I wrote poems then plays then novels then screenplays for 30 years with minimal commercial success – but always heard what a great writer I was and that I had great potential and I kept on writing and writing and writing more scripts, imagining and dreaming that one day a script might get financed and cast and produced, dreaming I would see my words coming out of actor’s mouths on the screen to get adulated enough to get into an international film festival, dreaming that day would happen - and I got close, so close to having one great movie made that had the right dream director and dream actor and well…it never got out of dream ‘development’ and ended up in eternal nightmare mode – so in harsh or gratitude reality (depending how I look at it) the closest I got to accolades at an international film festival was the thanks I received from my son last week, who flew me and S up to Toronto with him for a film he produced that was accepted up there– for us to be nanny grandpa and grandma to our wild 9 month old DZ: taking care of him in the hotel and nearby vicinities while my kid went to the premier screening of his movie and after dinner parties and next day meetings while we juggled, wake up time and feeding time and naps and moods that changed in a second from baby joy to baby misery and simultaneously eating take out Thai while changing poop filled diapers - and taking local walks with the stroller to a nearby park that had multifarious dog statues with streams of water coming out of their mouths into a fountain and the underground shopping malls and the Toronto Aquarium and following DZ throughout the fancy hotel lobby while he crawled at top speed past movie stars, producers, writers, agents and all those successful c- suckers hanging around schmoozing – that triggered my inner FOMO to the hilt, while all DZ wanted to do was crawl and sit and grin at me behind him, knowing he was safe with old grandpops to have a baby blast cruise around on the rug.
I’m a dad to a 15 month old - this was so real and beautiful to read. You’re a great dad, man.