WIL WHEATON dot NET

50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

come and knock on heaven’s door

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Note: I wrote this earlier this morning, but decided not to post it. It was really written for my dad, anyway.
I sent it to my him, and he called me a few minutes ago and said, “You should really put that on your website.” My mom shouted her agreement (from the kitchen, if I recognized the echo correctly.)
Since I spent most of my teenage years telling my parents off, I try to listen to them now, so I’m behaving myself, and publishing this, at their request.
Jeebus.
I just heard that Johnny Cash and John Ritter have died.
When I was 13, my parents took me and my siblings in their RV up to Yellowstone, through Nevada and Utah. It took three weeks, and we stopped at just about every national park along the way. On this trip, my dad brought a Johnny Cash tape, and he played it like crazy. One of the songs on that tape was Ring of Fire. That Johnny Cash tape was the only thing he played that I’d remove my walkman (and Iron Maiden) to hear.
The thing was, just from the sound of his voice, I knew Johnny Cash was the kind of guy who didn’t take shit from anyone. If you saw him, and you knew what was good for you, you just didn’t fuck with Johnny Cash. My friend Mykal met him a few years ago, though, and said that he just overflowed with kindness and appreciation for his fans.
While I was reading about Johnny Cash, an e-mail arrived that told me John Ritter had died, too. He was only 54.
My dad is only 54. 54 just doesn’t seem that old to me. It’s certainly not an age when we start thinking about people dying, I can tell you that.
My dad used to play little league with John Ritter.
I haven’t seen John Ritter in person in over ten years, but I felt like I had a sort of connection to him, because he knew my dad, and we’d done some charity things together back when I was a celebrity and did those sort of things.
But I have to be honest here. When I heard about these two men passing, the first thing I thought was, “Oh shit. My dad’s gonna die someday,” and of course all the thoughts that go along with that.
It seems like we always take time to say hi to our moms, and we always take time to tell our moms we love them.
I’m taking this time right now to tell my dad that I love him. I don’t say it enough.
I love you, dad.

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12 September, 2003 Wil

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