Sorry Kids, Daddy Had to Follow His Bliss

Dad at age 18

**Read in the event that your father becomes a rock star**

Hi Girls,

Since you’re reading this, my dreams of rock stardom have come true.

I probably owe you apologies for missing your many field hockey games, piano recitals, your weddings, your graduation from the Stanford Md/PhD/MBA program and so forth.  Among the many sacrifices offered up for international celebrity, family is one.

I’m writing to you from the past because I want you to know that I wasn’t always a deaf, addlepated rock-n-roll icon.

You might not remember me as the doting stay-at-home dad who fulfilled your every need and desire the first two and a half years of your lives; but I hope you have some sense of that idyllic time.  Idyllic for you, I mean.  For me it was…whew…let’s just say you pooped and whined a LOT.

What you didn’t know about me back then was that I had always wanted to be a rock star.  Or more accurately: in my heart of hearts, I had always been a rock star.  From age thirteen to age twenty, I played in a different bands: new wave, metal, and punk.  After struggling for a couple years in a great band that never quite took off, I set those dreams aside and wen to college to learn how to be a responsible, productive member of society.

Decades after abandoning rock stardom, I became your dad.  Your mom was much better at being a productive member of society, so stayed home to take care of you.   The first years of your lives produced some of my fondest memories.  I wish I could remember them now.  Or anything that happened over a half hour ago.

The ember infused in my soul when I heard that first Elvis record re-ignited when you were about two-and-a-half.  In fact, you were there on stage with me when the mighty demon arose at your uncle’s wedding.  Our impromptu family band played a short set to a packed house of 200.

After that gig, I knew what I had to do.
Sure, the rock world was stunned that its brightest star was now 44-year old supernova, but, soon, it abandoned its notions of what rock-n-roll was.  As for the details of my ascendancy, there’s the Cameron Crowe biopic that does it justice.  You should go see it.

Dad now (in the future)

I hope that this brief missive has conveyed my love for you and that you know that my failure to recognize you on the rare occasions that I’m home from touring doesn’t mean I’m not the same Dad that used to wipe your butts and eat your leftovers.

Love,

Skull

Photo Credit