In Twilight Zone reruns, I search for my father in the man on the screen, but I can"t always find him there. Instead, he appears in unexpected ways. Memory summoned by a certain light, a color, a smell and I see him again on the porch of our old red lakeside cottage, where I danced on the steps as a child. To Anne Serling, the imposing figure the public saw hosting The Twilight Zone each week, i...