When my son was 10, he recognized that I was an older father and he was not happy about that, and I never considered that. I walked into his bedroom one night, I could tell he'd been crying, puffy eyes, tears stained cheek. And I go, what's going on, buddy? Because I don't know his name. I’m never home. My son said, I've just been thinking, I'm 10 now and you're 63. When I'm 20. You're gonna be 73. When I'm 30. You'll be 83. You won’t be around for a lot of my life. I said. Buddy buddy, buddy. What's his fucking name. I said I’ll be around for a long time. Don't you worry about that. I'll be around when you graduate. I'll be around when you get married, when you have kids, I’ll be around for all that stuff. You just gotta make it happen in the next four years. Otherwise, yeah, you're probably right. I won't be around. He said, no, I'm serious. Dad. Dad? he doesn't know my name either.