At 43 years old, married and a national cable-TV anchor, I still call my dad every evening to say good night — and that’s after having talked a few times during the day. It’s because my dad is my best and was for a long time only friend. When I was diagnosed in elementary school with what we now know to be autism, my father quit his job and became a full-time parent/coach/friend. It was, as he describes it, my only hope. He felt hopeless and helpless, with good reason. The psychologist who