My Blog Public Post

She was born on June 9, 1967, in a hospital in Chico, California. I was born July 23, 1946, so I was still a couple of months away from turning 21. At the time, I was living in Paradise, California, where I grew up and went to high school.

I met her mother, Jenny Arcuri, there. Jenny was from Iowa, and our relationship was young, reckless, and real. Becky came into the world from that time in my life, and I was there at the hospital the night she was born.

I won’t make excuses. It was the middle of the sixties, and I was doing just about any drug I could find. Life was chaotic, and I was nowhere near the man or father I should have been.

Eventually, Jenny and I ended up in Oakland. She was on welfare, I was listed as Becky’s father, and I was offered an education at Merritt College. I accepted that chance and went on the welfare rolls myself.

Jenny eventually disappeared from my life, and I never saw her again. May that poor girl rest in peace.

From there, I became Becky’s main provider. For the next couple of years, I went to school and learned computers. That education launched me into a career that lasted for decades. All the while, I was also Becky’s dad.

We did alright in some ways. But I need to say this plainly: I was not a good dad. She went to school, and so did I, but I was still selfish, unstable, and unprepared for what fatherhood really required.

At one point, we moved to Santa Rosa, or somewhere across the Golden Gate Bridge. I had been offered a high-paying job with a startup that would go on to make millions. I got Becky enrolled in the local school. We rented a great house. I even offered my longtime buddy Dave Sherrod a place to live with us while he was moving across the country from the East with all his possessions packed in a trailer.

Everything was set up. Becky had a school. Dave was on his way. I had a job opportunity and a house.

And then, for some reason, I bailed.

I have had many years to think about that moment. I have asked myself why I did it. I still don’t have a good answer.

I wrote notes to both of them saying I was sorry, and then I drove to Southern California. I went off chasing another computer opportunity, or another version of myself, or maybe just running from responsibility again.

The house fell apart. Dave was furious and said if he ever saw me again, he would beat the hell out of me.

And Becky became homeless.

That was the moment I failed my daughter.

That was the moment I failed myself.

I went on to do bigger things in my career. I built a life. I had other relationships, other chapters, other chances. But none of that erases what happened. None of it changes the fact that I left Becky behind when she needed me.

She did not deserve that.

I am so sorry.

And as I write this, I am crying.

If I could give up all the other lives, all the women, all the chasing, all the so-called success, and somehow go back and spend that time with my daughter as she discovered life, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Becky, you deserved better from me.

I know that now. I wish I had known it then.