My dad got a job in a factory in Philadelphia, so I was raised in Germantown in a sort of a barracks for soldiers. They had housing for temporary housing. And then my parents saved money and bought a little house in South Jersey, built on a swamp.
I met my grandfather just before he died, and it was the first time that I had seen Dad with a relative of his. It was interesting to see my own father as a son and the body language and alteration in attitude that comes with that, and it sort of changed our relationship for the better.
My dad, who is a screenwriter, showed me all these great movies. He showed me ‘E.T.’ when I was 2-years-old, and I just kind of progressed from there. It was also my brother. We’d always watch movies together, and he’d do these voices and he’d always want to do skits and he’d come up with stuff with me.
It was Labor Day weekend in 1983, and Dad hired me to run Mick’s Lounge, a bar he co-owned, for $200 a week. The business was nearly bankrupt. But I said, ‘Dad, I can fix it.’ It was the most natural thing I’d ever done. It just made sense to me.
I was really lucky to have been raised in this really powerful matriarchy where my dad was around, but I was with my mom and my grandma most of the time. They were heavy influences on me. My mother has a career in technology; my grandma sold real estate.
A lot of people don’t realize this, but probably the one person that gets made fun of in ‘South Park’ more than anybody is my dad. Stan’s father, Randy – my dad’s name is Randy – that’s my drawing of my dad; that’s me doing my dad’s voice. That is just my dad. Even Stan’s last name, Marsh, was my dad’s stepfather’s name.
My mom and dad were ‘helicopter parents,’ literally. Meaning, I didn’t have a nanny, so I went up in the helicopter. My entire early childhood education consisted of tagging along while they reported on car accidents, multiple-alarm fires, and shootouts.
I was very fortunate to grow up with parents who love to travel, so I traveled from a young age. My dad’s a heart surgeon and goes to conferences all over the world. By the time I was seven, I traveled outside the country for the first time. We went to Paris. The next year, we went to London, and then Brussels.
The only big things I’ve purchased are my dad’s heart valve and a Rolls-Royce for my parents, for their anniversary. And that was only because my dad had a Lady Gaga license plate on our old car and it was making me crazy because he was getting followed everywhere, so I bought him a new car.
I grew up in a household that was a labor household. My dad was a Teamster and a milk truck driver. My mother was a secretary. Neither of them got through high school. But they worked hard and they gave me very, very important opportunities to go to school, get a good education.
At times I’ve got a really big ego. But I’ll tell you the best thing about me. I’m some guy’s dad; I’m some little gal’s dad. When I die, if they say I was Annie’s husband and Zachary John and Anna Kate’s father, boy, that’s enough for me to be remembered by. That’s more than enough.
I write about love, but it’s me wanting to be in love. I’ve never been in love. I love my mom, my dad. I want to be in love. I think I have to allow myself to get there. I’m just so in love with music. It’s weird. I’m at a crossroads because I want to be in love.
I did Jools Holland, which was bonkers because it’s an institution, and as a family, we’ve all been into it our whole lives, and then I did Hootenanny. I took my mum and dad along, and they were sat there next to Gregory Porter and Chaka Khan. My dad was just laughing, like he couldn’t believe it was real.
‘m just going to be a good friend to my kid. One thing I definitely want to change is that whole ’I don’t want you to make the same mistakes’ mentality. My dad didn’t have much money growing up; he didn’t have much of an education. He forced that on me, and I didn’t want it.
Wear what you want to wear. Do what you want to do. Be who you are. Pick out your own clothes. Be a man. And if that’s too much to ask, as it almost always is for me, think of someone you consider to be a man and pretend to be like him. I pretend to be like my dad.
So many use dad’s name, saying ‘Johnny Cash would not like this’ or ‘Johnny Cash would do this’ or ‘Johnny Cash would vote for… ’ Please, let his actions speak for who he was: A simple, loving man who never supported hate or bigotry. He was non-political, and a patriot with no public political party affiliation.
My dad had premature gray. I was always the one with the most energy, the one who continued to practice longer. I ran up and down the stairs of different stadiums. I didn’t feel the need to cover up the fact that I was losing my hair or it was graying. When you’re on a team, age is only a factor when you’re talking in the locker room.
There’s something different about growing up black and Muslim, especially in New Jersey. It’s like when I left the mosque and I left my dad, I felt unprotected, but I also felt a weird sense of pride, like I was involved in this other way of living that was cool to me.
I was who I was in high school in accordance with the rules of conduct for a normal person, like obeying your mom and dad. Then I got out of high school and moved out of the house, and I just started, for lack of a better term, running free.
I don’t think my dad really knew what to do with me, as a daughter. He treated me like a boy; my brother and I were treated the same. He didn’t do kid stuff. There were no kid’s menus; you weren’t allowed to order off the kid’s menu at dinner – we had to try something from the adult menu.
I was always cycling for my dad. Then the coaches got bigger, and my results got better. Suddenly, the responsibility grows, and I’m doing it for somebody else, I’m doing it for a programme; I’m doing it for the country. I’m doing it for, like, everybody.
I don’t really look at stats or whatever. You see them on the big screen. But other than that, I don’t pay too much attention to it. I did know about my dad’s home run total. Other than that, I don’t like to know. It’s pointless. Whether you know or don’t know, you don’t want to think about it. You just want to go out and play the game.
That’s my father’s theme. Get up in the morning, ‘hello, Dad.’ ‘Get a job, leave the food alone… Who took my car?’ America, you young kids, get a job. All that sagging, the clothes hanging behind, that ain’t nothing. Get a job. You want to be somebody, get a job.
My humanitarian work evolved from being with my family. My mom, my dad, they really set a great example for giving back. My mom was a nurse, my dad was a school teacher. But my mom did a lot of things for geriatrics and elderly people. She would do home visits for free.
My dad was somewhat of a naturalist and used to teach us about different birds and trees. So did a fifth grade teacher who made a lasting impact on me; to this day, I remember his lessons about counting the needles on pine trees, seeing if they are twisted or straight, and about checking the tips of oak leaves to see if they are pointed or lobed.
