An Open Heart to My Father

That's one of the first pictures ever taken of me. I'm on the left. My dad's on the right.

I think he's wearing boxers AND briefs. It might be time for us to bring that look back.
I bet you thought my hair sticks up because of hair products.
Nope, it's because of the shape of my head.

Monday is my father's birthday. 

If you know me, you know that my biggest fear is that I'll lose someone before that person knows how much he or she means to me. In my recent years, I've made it my goal to communicate more effectively, to write more and to cherish more the people who have contributed to my life. It hasn't been easy. It's vulnerable to put yourself out there but it's always a win despite that initial difficulty.

This writing is a tribute to the original DJB, my father, Darren Jay Bein.

If my years have taught me anything, life can be complicated and, as such, empathy is crucial to navigate it with any sort of connection to people. My parents divorced before my earliest memory.

They were children. There was a short period of time after I was born where they were considering putting me up for adoption. As fate would have it, they kept me and instead of giving me away they gave marriage a shot so that I could be promoted from my position of bastard son. 

Roughly two years later, another child arrived (my sister Erin) and they were divorced. They were still teens. If I had children at the age my parents did, I'd be responsible for a high school senior and a sophomore in college. That's a hell of a perspective to take on. Given the time I've been doing comedy, it represents my high school senior. When I write that I get teary eyed because as a comedian I do a lot of joking but the fact that I'm here and doing great is a testament to my parents not killing me or giving me up during their fiery late teens and early twenties. Not only did they not give me up but I'm here to tell you, they did a great job with what they had. If I had kids right now, even RIGHT NOW at 36, they'd be missing, starving or dead. 

The hardest part about talking about my Dad is that I get the sense that he doesn't hear or believe how much I love him, how much he has positively impacted my life or how proud I am to be his son. All of those statements are indelibly true. Our history, our relationship and our communication has been so complicated by emotions. Whether it be his relationship with my mom, his relationship with my other siblings or the ever present judgment of what our relationship might look like to the rest of our family. People say actions speak louder than words, but I think with my Dad words speak louder than actions especially when they're on paper and they're out in the open to be read over and over and over again. I want my feelings to echo in my Dad's heart and in his head. I want them to echo so loudly and frequently that they eventually knock down that wall that was created by contractors who missed the intended vision laid out by the architects. That metaphor came out of nowhere. My point is I want my love, my pride and his positive impact on me to to be the echo and the chamber rather than get lost in an echo chamber. 

For those who wonder if you've met my Dad, you have. 

Every time I make you laugh, that's my Dad.

Man, my Dad's silliness is contagious. I always felt important when I made him laugh because it's how he communicated effectively. He is so quick witted, it's like he's got a joke gun that doesn't run out of ammo. (Where do they sell those?) I'd argue that he's the reason I want to make everyone laugh. One of my favorite comedy memories of all time is when I opened for Bob Nelson at Tekoa Country Club in Westfield, MA. Bob Nelson's football routine is one of Dad's all time favorites and here I was not only opening for one of my Dad's favorite comedians but also giving him a chance to meet him. 

My Dad, Bob Nelson, Me

Every time I do something athletic, that's my Dad. My Dad's natural athleticism still holds a record or two at Westfield High School. His name shares a book with the likes of John Elway and Jim Kelly. My late Uncle Joe, another major influence on my life and my Dad's rival for who I look like the most, used to tell passionate stories about how athletic and competitive my father was. On the weekends at Dad's house, we'd play football, basketball, soccer or baseball and goddammit I'm convinced that if I practiced more when I was a kid I would have been an incredible athlete. My natural athleticism bit me in the ass. I thought I was too good but the reality was that I was too small and too lazy. Practice? But Mr Wizard is on!!! When I was conceived my Dad was getting heat from minor league baseball affiliates and I may very well be the reason my Dad didn't go pro. That said, I'm a result of him hitting a home run and the reason he didn't hit another one. HIGH FIVE! He spent time with me trying to teach me to bat lefty and he hit balls to me in left field to help me improve my defense. In the driveway, he schooled me in games of Horse with trick shots. 

Every time I watch sports with you, that's my Dad. 

My Dad is a passionate sports fan. 

He loves the Celtics, Yankees, Bruins and the Texas Longhorns. We bonded over Larry Bird. Somewhere out there is a #33 customized Celtics home jersey with Bein on the back and it's one of the best gifts I've ever received. (and for so many reasons...it was my Dad's first, it was Larry's #, it said Bein on it and that represented me and my Dad) 

Dad is one of the rare 'good' Yankees fans. He helped me appreciate the greatness and necessity of sports rivalries. I'll never forget my one and only trip to the old Yankees Stadium was on a bus trip with Dad. We sat in the right field upper deck and the Sox won. Come to think of it, that may have been my first trip to NYC. Thurman Munson was a catcher for, and the heart of, the Yankees. He was also my Dad's favorite player. If you're an old school baseball fan, you know that Munson's life ended way too soon when he died after he crash landed his plane in Ohio at 32 years old. When Reggie Lewis died, I was able to connect with my Dad over losing a sports hero. 

Dad taught me to respect the players who gave it their all even if they were on rival teams. He built my respect for Kareem, Mattingly, Dr J., Gretzky, Marino, Magic, Jeter, Elway, Jordan, etc., etc., etc. He taught me the rules to football and the angles in baseball. For much of my childhood, my bedroom was lined with the college pennants he had acquired growing up. 

Whenever you say Dana Jay Bein, that's my Dad. Yup, I proudly brandish our shared middle name. 

Yeah, I guess it makes me sound a little more Hollywood too but it's unoriginal because Dad had it first.

Someday when I'm a good father, that's my Dad. 

When you're outside of a situation, it's really easy to simplify it. Growing up in a broken home (so to speak), you have to manage a lot of emotions that aren't your own when you're too young and immature to do so effectively. I had so many of my own emotions triggered by hanging out with, talk of and relating to my Dad. Fear, sadness, anger, joy, excitement, confusion, vulnerability and shame were always nearby when it came to my Dad. That said, those emotions were not his fault. Many of them were situational and an aggregate of all of the difficulties of raising children in separate households with separate lives. While he may not have been perceived as a consistent presence in my life, let me assure you that my love, admiration and pride for that man is and has always been as consistent as the days of the week. My pride as a son grows every single day. In the past 30 years, I watched my Dad rebuild his life after the divorce and raise 3 incredible people. Shannon, Adam and Michael are intelligent, responsible, independent and passionate human beings and I see my Dad and Sally in every step they take. It's magical. 

My siblings Adam, Erin, Mike and Shannon

I have infinite stories and joyous memories of my Dad that light me up when I'm down and remind me of where I came from. I'm extremely proud to be part of the Bein family. (Have I told you that means leg in German - my full name translates to A Danish Man's leg; a forever ZING!) 

From the getaway in the Adirondacks with the Van Voorhis family to summers in Plum Island to fishing the Little River and learning that pickerel have really really REALLY sharp teeth to Jen Coat company parties at High Meadows to hearing him talk about being there when his first granddaughter Grace was born while tearing up about the miracle of life and being a Grandfather.

If you wonder how I find such empathy for people, I think it's because as a child of divorce, I was lucky enough to begin to observe and process several perspectives for everything that happens early on. My Mom has a perspective. My Dad has a different perspective. My Mom's parents had a different perspective. My Dad's parents had a different perspective. My Mom's friends had perspectives. My Dad's friends had perspectives. More often than not, these perspectives were at odds with each other. I knew then and I can articulate it now that just because perspectives are different doesn't mean there can't be love. In fact, it means that if the love is consistent - the perspectives will make more sense more often. 

Writing this, I feel like I'm writing the SNL40 special. How the hell can I get everything into one piece? I just can't do every awesome thing about my Dad justice. 

Here's what I can do (with your help):

Dad isn't on social media. He doesn't email. He uses a landline almost exclusively. Sometimes, he drives without his shirt on. (That last bit is irrelevant.) For my Dad's birthday - show him this piece, remind him of this writing, tell him I love him. I'm not asking you to do my emoting for me. I just know that for my Dad, sometimes it's easier with a middleman, or several.  Also, I'm gonna make sure it gets in front of him by snail mail, via my siblings, via my wonderful step mom Sally and via my family's Facebook group. I want everyone to see this because I want to make indisputably clear who my father is, how I feel about him and that I am proud to be his oldest son. 

Dad. I love you. I miss you. You are my Dad. I wouldn't change that for anything. 

On your birthday and whenever you else you might need to, take some time to live in that truth. Thank you for everything. Happy Birthday. I hope I make you proud. 

Your son,

Dana Jay Bein (DJB Jr)

DJB and DJB