SEASON 3 UPDATE... SORT OF

I know I'm thick into the season when I look at my blog and realize I haven't posted in weeks.  Twitter is spoiling me.  It's the lazy man's blog.  So I'd figure I'd drop an update.  

We just locked picture on 301 and everyone is very excited.  Directed by "Shield" alum, Stephen Kay, the network had very few notes -- which is a good sign.  The season picks up a few days after the season two finale and the episode is about Jax's emotional journey through the devastation of losing a child. 

It's so interesting for me as a writer to explore these emotional avenues now being a father myself.  I wrote a script years ago called Delivering Gen which was all about a man's inability to be a father.  I remember some parental watch group read the script and pointed out to me and my agent, Nicole Clemens, who was also single at the time, that the baby in the movie is in life-threatening peril more than a dozen times.  Our response was, "Really?"  We were a little detached.  But now that I'm a father, those scenes, those moments are much harder to write.  And hopefully, deeper.  

I watched Edge of Darkness over the weekend and while Mel was hunting down his daughter's killers, I was listening to Esme' coughing over the baby monitor.  She has a cold.  I kept pausing the movie, then running up to her room to make sure she was okay.  It was a weird interactive experience.  But now I know whenever I do write those father revenge scenes, they won't just be fantasy.  I know in my gut, that I'd cut someone's fucking heart out if they ever threatened my kids.  Truly, without pause.  I'd kill with a clear conscience.  

Wow.  As usual, I've taken a left turn down Dark Drive.  So about that update -- 302, directed by another "Shield" alum, Gwyneth Horder-Payton, came out great.  I will say there's a scene near the end that rivals the tattoo removal sequence in season one.  It makes me giggle.  I haven't seen 303 yet.  That too, directed by a "Shield" alum, Billy Gierhart.  Looking forward to seeing Stephen King in that one.  304 is being shot by one of my favorite directors, and another "Shield" director, Guy Ferland (do you see a pattern?).  305 is being prepped, Gwyneth is helming that one as well.  306 is written.  And I'm avoiding writing 307 at this very moment.  It's due a week from today.

I tweeted about the new line of merchandise that will be coming out very soon.  It's very hip.  I think folks are really gonna dig it.  We're in the process of putting together some kind of music tour with Bob Thiele and the Forest Rangers.  The iPhone app is moving forward, as is the game.  Oh, and we're gonna be auctioning off a custom SOA Harley for charity.  More on that in the next couple weeks.

I think that's it.  Back to Charming.

REDWOOD ORIGINAL AND BELFAST, SOME MYTHOLOGY

By now, most folks know we are doing an Irish storyline this season.  I won't spoil anything with details but I wanted to share some mythology with fans.  This is information that has either already come out through character or will be alluded to this season.  Again, it's nothing that will spoil your viewing but if you are reading my blog, or reaching out to me on Facebook or Twitter, it gives you some inside dope others won't have.  And I'm sure I don't have to say this, but just for the folks in legal -- the following mythology is not based on real events or facts.  It is all a machination of my disturbed little mind.  Any likeness or similarities to real events or people is purely fucking coincidental.

Gemma, Jackson and Thomas Teller were all born with the family flaw.  Varying degrees of congenital heart disease, CHD.  Jax's condition was very minor and he eventually outgrew his issue.  Although he needs to be aware of his genetic predisposition for heart disease, it's nothing that impacts his day-to-day life.  Such is the case with Gemma as well.  Thomas was not that lucky.  Jax's younger brother was born in distress, his CHD was much more serious.  (Abel was also born with CHD, but his condition, like Jax, is minor.  Abel's birth distress was due to the Gastroschisis - intestines are outside of the body - an unfortunately common occurrence of children born of drug-addicted mothers).

Thomas' childhood was a series of tests, treatments and hospital stays.  Not only did it have an emotional toll on John and Gemma, it created a huge financial burden as well.  Up until that point, the Redwood Original charter had been involved in some illegal enterprises, but not guns.  A member of the First Nine, McGee, was born and raised in Belfast.  He knew that the IRA was looking for distribution to the states.  Both McGee and Clay convinced John that assembling, customizing and selling guns could be a lucrative enterprise.  John, desperate and already slightly broken, agreed.  An Irish Catholic by birth, John Teller went to Belfast and made a deal with the Irish Republican Army.  And so the gun business was born.

McGee stayed in his homeland and began the Belfast charter of the Sons of Anarchy.  Sons of Anarchy Belfast (Sam Bell) became a mercenary arm of the IRA.

AL

My dad died tonight.  

Albert Sutter.  Not exactly sure how old he was, late 80's.  After my mother died four years ago, he never really recovered.  Al had nothing that stirred his heart, mind or soul.  He was terribly unhappy.  Suffering from the onset of dementia, he simply lost the will to live.  He died of pneumonia complications a few hours ago in New Jersey. 

I know this will sound callous, but I'm not sad.  Part of me wishes I was.  I wish his death were a gut-wrenching experience that flooded me with memories and cracked my heart open.  But alas, no. 

My lack of grief is not that complicated.  I'm sure a few years on a couch could figure out the specifics, but the truth is, I never felt close to my father.  Something happened a long time ago, way before I was responsible for my actions -- for some reason, I severed the bond.  It was clear to me at an early age that Al wasn't the place I went to feel good about myself.  

My dad was raised in Port Elizabeth, NJ.  He was a popular, street kid who boxed Golden Gloves, built cars, served two tours in WWII and Korea.  He was a bad ass.  Not a prick, just incredibly cool.  I was not cool.  I was a troubled kid.  Morbidly obese, hyper-sensitive, a loner, a chronic dreamer.  I was a huge embarrassment to my dad.  Without the sensitivity or people skills to reach out to me, his frustration with who I wasn't was difficult for him to conceal.  The more embarrassed he got, the more of an embarrassment I became.  It was painful for both of us to be around each other.  The divide grew, the damage was done and neither of us knew how to fix it.  I split at 19, moved 3000 miles away and never looked back.

Katey had an interesting take on parents passing.  She said that we don't mourn who they were as much as who we wish they were.  I guess that's true.  I began that mourning process years ago.  After I got sober in 1993, I had to look at all my family wreckage.  I made amends to my parents and did my best to maintain a loving, albeit superficial relationship with both of them.  

It was at that point I had the clarity to understand that my dad was basically an unhappy guy.  I'm sure at one time he was a young man full of dreams and enthusiasm.  He only had a high school education, but he was incredibly bright and charismatic.  I know he had greater ambitions than being middle-management at GM for 35 years.  My mother was not an adventurous soul.  She was like me, she hated people and didn't like to leave the house.  My dad loved people and loved to travel.  He always deferred to my mother.  Al felt trapped. He was George Bailey without the wonderful life.  And he could never see past his own dissatisfaction.  That innate misery shaped who he was as a man.  I admit, I longed for Mike Brady.  I wanted a father who was present.  Who would sit me down and give me advice -- about sex, girls, life.  I wanted a father who could make me laugh.  More than love, I wanted a dad whom I respected and who respected me.  

Al and me, we could never deliver those things.  

I accepted that reality a long time ago.  That's why I'm not saddened by his death.  Because the truth is I mourned my father's passing thirty years ago when the bond got severed.  All that acting out in my youth -- the obsessive behavior, the eating, the booze and drugs, the anger, the violence -- that was my mourning.  That was me letting go of my father.  So now, I feel a bit empty, nostalgic maybe, but not sad. 

I loved Al as best I could.  Al loved me as best he could.  

What I try to do is learn from my experience with my dad and stop the cycle of self-obsessive disconnect.  I want to be a father who is present for his children.  I go out of my way to talk to my teenage son about all those uncomfortable subjects my father could never broach -- sex, drugs, girls, masturbation, relationships.  I'm strict with my kids, but I praise them more than I correct them.  And I make them laugh.  Constantly.  I fucking make them laugh.  I guess that's how I honor my dad.  That's how I preserve his memory, by taking all the things I wish he was and placing that responsibility on myself, so I pay it forward. 

I don't know where we go when we pass, but I hope Al goes to a happier place.  And I hope he knows, that I am happy with the man I have become.  So despite our disconnect, his path shaped my path and I'm glad he was my father.