I’m having a Hank Moody morning

27 May 2011 Leave a Comment

One thing about being a first time dad. You don’t know what you’re doing. But you try your best. This week one of mine has been crying at breakfast. Is it a sore mouth? Sore belly? Over tired? Weetbix too crunchy? The start of the terrible toddler years? WTF! So this morning I stay home a little longer to help out… he sits in my lap and eats whilst soggy Weetbix falls on my leg.

Now I’m on a later train now so I have a seat. I bring up the latest filler TV series on my iPad. I’m starting to hate the commute and TV shows are the best distraction. Somebody recently suggested I watch Californication. I found the idea of watching raunchy TV in a public place kinda naughty and a bit anti-social and it fits my relationship to “fuck you” public transport.

I’m up to episode 8 in season 1, and Hank’s father has just died. He doesn’t want to go to the funeral. He never liked his dad. Towards the end of the episode his ex opens a letter from his dad and reads it too him:

Oh my fuckin’ goodness…

Why was this show suggested to me!? I thought it was all sex and frivolity. My own dad’s death is all too raw still.

Something I never said too you much – I love you. My father never said it much either, and I thought I’d be different, but I guess I’m not. I’ve tried, but somewhere along the line you slip back into what you know and I’m sorry about that. And I am sorry we haven’t talked in a while because I miss you, you’re a good kid and a funny kid, and you’re my only son. I said I never read your books but I lied, I read ‘em all, I just didn’t know how to talk about them with ‘ya. I didn’t like the fathers in them. I know you writers take liberties but I was afraid that maybe you didn’t take any at all. But that’s the thing; boys become men and men become husbands and fathers and we do the best we can. You’re doing the best you can, you’ve done good, your books will be in libraries long after we are both gone and this is important. More important is how you treat your family. I wasn’t a perfect husband but I loved your mother, and I’m glad we spent our lives together and I am here if you need me. That is all I wanted to say. Love your old man. P.S. I saw a preview of your movie the other night, it looks like a piece of shit – maybe you were right.

The girl opposite me on the train has big pretty green eyes. We made eye contact a while back and I got a smile. Now she looks uncomfortable; like she can’t wait for her stop. Probably because the guy opposite her is crying…

I wish there was a secret letter from my father hiding somewhere, so I could know these things, but I doubt it. Only Americans rabbit on like that.

In any case, I forgive him for not telling me these things that I yearned for.

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