When I married Enrico Macias's daughter, I had no idea that thirty years later I would still be angry at him for turning our wedding into a huge show. Re-watching the film of the wedding, I realize that this is really when I began to 'start a family': two sons, a separation, three daughters, another separation, a bereavement. At my shrink's grave, I attempt a kind of inventory. What did our fathers and mothers leave us? And what will I leave to my children?