Though never one to be green with envy, I am often jealous of some of my Hollywood gal pals like Jessica Simpson and Beyoncé -- not for the glamorous gowns, sexy romances or all their money, awards and fame.
It's for the simplest things. The comfort of having their families so involved in the day-to-day of their careers as they help them navigate the slippery slopes of stardom. Even Sandy Bullock's father runs her production company Fortis Films with her sisters. How tedious yet reassuring, soothing and calming that must be to know there is someone behind you in this fickle and often phony Hollywood game who is really looking out for your best interests, not their own.
As an adult, I am surrounded by the finest things in life, although I am often haunted by a sense of loneliness because today as I sign my mortgage for my new loft and begin to pack for a trip to Africa as a Youth AIDS ambassador I realize all the dreams I had as a child are coming true, but I would never have realized those dreams without the sacrifices of my father. It has been two years since Richard Bloch left me and this planet. However, every day through all the ups and downs of my "glamorous life," his spirit, advice and even some of his best and worst traits live within his son. Far too often I find my life to be reminiscent of a cheesy TV movie complete with a soundtrack that plays in my mind. This week's theme is "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics. When this song was a hit and I was a child I couldn't begin to fathom the poignancy and prominence the lyrics would hold for me as an adult.
"For every generation blames the one before and all their frustrations come beating on your door. I know that I am a prisoner to all my father held so dear. I know that I am a hostage to all his hopes and fears … say it loud, and say it clear, you can listen as well as you can hear. It's too late when we die to admit we don't see eye to eye. I wish I would've told him in the living years." Fortunately, for many of my friends and me, our proud fathers got to see and experience many of our successes, basically that's the payoff for all their sacrifices. As they moved to the suburbs, to a house they couldn't afford to commute for an hour to work their butts off for us to live the American Dream.
As kids we adore them and as teens we abhor them. My adolescence was a state of constant defiance. Despite that fact, I am so glad I stopped fighting the future and took advantage of the time as an adult to share my life with my father.
One commonality we all have is a father. Some raise us, some leave us, some help us and some scar us, but everyone I know has a story about theirs even if it is that he wasn't there … genetically he was, and that DNA imprint alone can never disappear. They make us crazy and impose all kinds of stupid rules that seem totally uncool but they fund our lives with cash and experiences. So let's face it, the money part is a lot easier to accept especially as a kid, though as I got older it's the long drawn out stories that seem to have had the greatest value.