Dad Talks #13 Michael Ian Black

In conversation with the comedian, writer, actor, and dad

I’ve been a huge fan of

Michael Ian Black

’s since I was probably twelve-years-old, when my best friend Jay and I discovered the genius of his sketch comedy troupe, The State. Since then, Michael’s built a long comedy career which has been highlighted by shows, performances, and collaborations with his group Stella, the movie Run, Fat Boy, Run, the criminally underrated Viva Variety, and far too many other things to list here.

He’s also from Jersey, so I’m legally obligated to love him wholeheartedly and sans reservations.

Michael’s written several books, all of them hilarious. But the one that made me reach out to him for this newsletter is a 2020 memoir called A Better Man: A (Mostly) Serious Letter to My Son, in which he explores not just fatherhood, but masculinity as a whole, asking the question not only of how we can become better men, but how we can raise better men. It’s a tremendous read and I can’t recommend it enough.

(he also writes a most excellent Substack, which you should check out post haste.)

Michael was gracious enough to take time out of his life to answer a few questions about his experiences with fatherhood and share some perspective that comes with having two fully grown kids.

“Being a good dad is way more important to me than being a good actor or writer or anything else.” - Michael Ian Black

I'm curious how you balanced your work and fatherhood in your kids' earliest years. What were the major sacrifices you had to make on either or both sides of that equation? How have those sacrifices and focuses evolved now that your kids are older?

In some ways, being an actor/comedian/writer/whatever else I do was a great way to raise kids because there were long stretches when I could be home with my family. One of the advantages of non-traditional employment is that schedules tend to be fluid. On the other hand, one of the disadvantages of non-traditional employment is that schedules tend to be fluid.

There were many, many times when I had to cancel plans or adjust things because of a last-minute job or shooting schedule change. It drove my wife crazy because she was left holding the diaper bag. Now that they’re older, my schedule obviously matters a lot less to them but I’m also older, so the schedule is starting to drive ME crazy.

You've written very publicly about fatherhood. Was there a line drawn somewhere about what was and what wasn't okay to discuss or explore? Or was everything on the table? What role did/does your wife play in what you decide to examine in regards to fatherhood?

This is a problem a lot of non-fiction writers have; how much to share? I’ve always been both very aggressive in terms of the kinds of things I’m willing to discuss while also trying to respect the privacy of the people I discuss.

Personally, I have no shame when it comes to personal revelation but it’s not self-exposure for the sake of self-exposure. Instead, I find that people tend to relate more to material the more specific it is, which is a bit of a paradox since the individual circumstances of one’s life vary so much from person to person that you would think my personal experiences wouldn’t resonate with others, but the opposite seems to be true.

There are only so many types of human experience. The more we drill down into our own, the more relatable they are for others. I do ask my wife to look over stuff that involves her, but she can rarely be bothered to read it. I think after all this time together she trusts me that if I’m going to make anybody look like an asshole, it’s going to be me.

What ages/stages of your kids were most challenging for you as a father? What was most rewarding?

I don’t know that there’s one stage or age that stands out. Any parent obsesses over their kids. It doesn’t matter if they’re three months old or 3000 months. We worry about them just the same, celebrate with them just the same, feel their triumphs and pains just as acutely. It’s hard to put into words the father/child relationship, but it’s the most profound love I've ever known. I’m not one of those people who thinks parenthood is a necessary component of a fulfilling life, but my own experience with it has fulfilled mine. Being a good dad is way more important to me than being a good actor or writer or anything else.

I imagine any parent would tell you the same. What’s most rewarding to me as a father has nothing to do with me and everything to do with them; seeing them now, as adults, working on their own lives, figuring things out. That stuff's very rewarding. If my wife and I gave them the tools they need to succeed and the love to know they’re supported, that’s all that can be asked of any parent, I think. Unless you can give your kids a trust fund, which I cannot. (Also, I’m kidding. I think a trust fund is generally a bad idea.)

How has your role as a dad changed and evolved as your kids have gotten older and started making their own way in the world? What do you miss most about the past in regards to fatherhood?

In terms of missing the past as a father, I miss the hugs. Kids always want to give hugs. Adult children? Not so much. Now, any physical affection is initiated by me and usually ends with them being annoyed. Even so, it’s a small price to pay. They’re smart and capable adults now (23 and 21) and I’m happy to accept the occasional hug but more happy that they don’t need me to wipe their butts.

What kind of father was your father? What about his parenting style have you taken on as your own and what have you consciously tried to avoid?

My own dad didn’t know how to be a particularly attentive father. He and my mom divorced when I was young and so my siblings and I would visit him every other weekend. He worked long hours for AT&T and often just wasn’t around very much. My dad was a sweet guy but emotionally unavailable.

One of the lessons I took from him was to simply be there for your kids. Listen to them, talk to them, be present. My dad had a hard time with all of that. Unfortunately, he died when I was still quite young (12), so we never developed the kind of relationship I think we would have had he lived long enough to see us into adulthood. It’s not a knock on him - he didn’t have a great role model for a father, either. He did his best and I loved him.