evaporated years

Cal Sommers was huge in the 80s. After gaining his rise off Broadway, he shifted to tv and dominated as the leading man in three long-running, family sitcoms. With natural good looks, and everyman relatability, Cal graced the screen with easy charm. He was everyone’s Dad.

Offscreen, Cal struggled. His vices were many, and he never made space for solutions. One relationship after another crumbled, as Cal haphazardly tried to navigate the demands of celebrity, his career trajectory, and this nagging unquenched thirst to build some semblance of a family life for himself.

It was now 2020, somehow. From his peak in the late 80s until today, Cal flowed from one gig to another; a drifting has-been, and a butt of ‘where are they now’ jokes. 

Cal lamented these evaporated years. As he moved through the steps of sobering, a flood of inconsequential recent memories replaced those of his early ascent.

Cal looked at his phone—the world around him was on fire. Things were changing daily; from the ires of a pandemic, to the marches calling for change. 

Scrolling through the account fans used to email him, Cal arrived on a subject line that warranted a deeper review. The subject read, ‘Thank you, Dad.’

He opened the email.

Dear Mr. Sommers,

You may never know me, but I’ll always cherish our time together. My dad was not in the scene. And week after week, your characters helped me better digest the world I was facing, and helped me feel like we were together to work through these things.

I made it through college, and have a family of my own now—I find myself passing those lessons that you taught me on to my own kids.

I hope this note finds you well today, and just thank you for everything, Dad.

Alicia Hollins

He re-read the note at least ten times. He was moved, more so than he had been for thirty years. He actually felt something.

“Together.” Cal said.

-m

June 14, 2020

Photo Credit: Frank Okay