Technoblade, I Hardly Knew Ye

Fatherhood, Cancer, and the Generation Gap

Being a dad has always been everything to me. From the moment my son entered this world, he was my little buddy. Due to my schedule (I worked nights on my evening radio show while my wife-at-the-time worked “regular” business hours), I had tons of time to walk with him in his stroller, and I did so. When the weather was bearable, we’d find a park or a trail, frequenting Crane’s Roost in Seminole County. When the oppressive sun and sweltering humidity became too much, we’d head for a local shopping mall. We both preferred the Mall at Millenia, him for the giant (fake) butterflies on the escalator at Neiman Marcus, and me for the dazzling array of wealthy MILFS who frequented that particular mall. We both found joy in the candy section of Macy’s, and every visit featured a purchase of mini-dark chocolate M&Ms.

Through the years, we remained thick as thieves (as they say). The distance between us when I initially took the radio gig in Tampa (St. Pete, to be accurate) was brutal on us both. I’d drive home as much as I could bear, a few days a week, just to see him after school and put him to bed at night…reading “The Giving Tree” over and over until his little eyes closed and I could try to stay awake on I-4. We made it through that, somehow survived the teenage years (oof), and to this day…he’s still my little buddy even though he towers over me. I’m proud and happy to say that we talk about everything, from the political Hell we live in to social issues, regular every day stuff, and yes…my cancer.

I had to make a decision when I was diagnosed, just like virtually every cancer patient does: how much do I share with my family?

When I initially (and irresponsibly) looked at the results of my very first scan that was uploaded to my “portal” before my doctor had the chance to interpret it for me, I was certain that I had leukemia (that’s how the doctor who read the results viewed it) and would die sooner than later. I freaked the fuck out, as you can read in the very early entries to this here Substack. What to tell my son? How much do you share? A parent never wants to scare or hurt their kid (well, a good parent doesn’t), but is it responsible or fair to shield them from the truth? My struggles with my own parent, my mom, who would keep her medical situations from me until it was unavoidable really hurt and frustrated me. As a parent, I can understand the impulse to avoid frightening a kid…but I’m an adult, and to find out through my bro-in-law that she went to the hospital IMMEDIATELY AFTER we visited her at the house I grew up in…well, that was unacceptable and we had to have an honest and productive chat about it. She now (hopefully) tells me everything and gives me the opportunity to process it as an adult.

So, what to tell my teenage kid who is legally an adult now? I made the decision to tell him everything, once I had solid and consistent info from a doctor. In the past year, we’ve had a few somewhat-difficult but positive conversations about my diagnosis, the ensuing treatments and their effectiveness (or lack thereof in certain cases), the path to beating this thing, and life in general. He listens, asks good questions, and delivers words of pure love and support to me which obviously mean everything. I’m so grateful that we have the kind of relationship in which we foster honesty, love, and communication. It hasn’t always been easy, but putting the work in really made a difference that I can see, hear, and feel to this day. That leads me to what happened last night.

He frequently gets off work around 10, requiring me to plan a dinner that I can either whip up at that hour (or right before so it’s ready when he comes home) or cook something earlier that won’t be ruined by reheating it in the microwave. It’s a challenge that I embrace, as I truly love to prepare meals. It’s made easier when I get too tired because his mom is almost always there on the nights when he comes home (he stays at his partner’s house sometimes) to step in and cook him something. His job is pretty physically demanding, so it makes us happy to help him refuel after a shift. Last night, I had made chicken burritos earlier and his mom warmed them up for him to wolf down when he got home around 10:15. He always goes out of his way to compliment the chef, which is much appreciated.

I was sitting on the couch and watching a marathon of the “Press Your Luck” reboot. I loved that game show as a kid (“no Whammies!”), and the new version is definitely similar to what I grew up with. Plus, the dazzling Elizabeth Banks is a fantastic host. Her various outfits alone make it worth a watch. I hadn’t planned on watching three consecutive hour-long episodes, but for some reason…the network decided to air them right in a row and I was hooked. As the final episode entered the final round, Xander got out of his chair in the kitchen and joined me in the living room. He came over to me on the couch and gave me a longer-and-stronger-than-usual hug. I could tell that there was something on his mind. A parent knows.

Sure enough, as we ended our embrace, he delivered the news that one of his favorite content creators, a young man in his 20s, had suddenly and tragically lost his battle with stage 4 cancer. Now, Xan has handled the situation with his dad fighting this disease with strength and grace (at least in front of me). I’m sure that it weighs on him, but he knows the importance of maintaining a positive attitude about it all. Still, this streamer/content creator’s passing really affected him and he wanted to talk about it.

The generation gap is so interesting. My dad, a music/rock fan from the wayback, discovered REM through my enjoyment of them. He always played video games, well before Space Invaders even came out, due to his job as a computer software specialist when computers were the size of your house. We’d play Atari together and he STILL games to this day (he likes stuff like Assassin’s Creed which I wish that I could play with him online but I’m hopeless when it comes to controllers that require dexterity). We’ve never really had too much of a problem with a generation gap; in fact, he fell in love with Metallica on his own, well after I had abandoned them after “the Black Album” because their early thrash sound which I loved became something different.

With my son, it’s more challenging. I exposed him to rap very early in his life, finding edited versions of some of my favorite songs. As soon as the horns from “Brass Monkey” would kick in, he’d dance in his car seat and sing along as best he could. We’d both nod our heads to Jurassic 5, The Roots, Wu-Tang (very hard to find edited stuff from the Shaolin Boys), Dr. Dre (surprisingly easy to find clean versions of his jams) and more. As he grew up and developed his own tastes, I loved it…but the rappers of today aren’t the rappers we grew up with. They’re more in touch with their emotions, which is nice, but they definitely brag about their consumption of pills and other drugs (which is not uncommon for some of the rap I grew up with, but it’s far more present in today’s emo rap game). My son is a huge Tyler the Creator fan, and I tried listening to and developing an appreciation for him…but it evaded me. I’m old. He would play me different tracks from the rappers he enjoyed, and I’d try so hard to relate but couldn’t. HUGE generation gap there, but I appreciate and respect how it’s different for our kids. When “XXXTentacion” died, my initial reaction was a sarcastic “what a loss for the music world” until I saw how it affected my son and his friends. We sat and talked about this departed young man and his complicated legacy. He did shitty things to people but left behind songs that resonated with this younger generation. I learned a lot by talking with and listening to my son.

I’m so glad we had those talks, because they better prepared me for last night’s moment. Apparently, this creator of content known as “Technoblade” hadn’t gone public with his diagnosis. Everyone handles their cancer journey differently and I respect each individual’s choices and path. Some, like the late Norm MacDonald, keep their cancer diagnosis hidden from everyone in their life because they want to continue working without being known as “that comedian with cancer.” Not only do I respect this, but I completely understand it. While I have been forthright and very open (one might say too open?) with every step of the way, it does kind of suck to know that I’m “Cancer Guy” first and everything else comes after. Every single social media post, even ones that have nothing at all to do with this disease, will elicit comments like “I’m praying for you” or “keep fighting,” which are certainly well-intended but JESUS HOLY CHRIST CAN I NOT MAKE A POST ABOUT BIRDS without being reminded (not that I need the reminder) that a potentially-fatal disease is in me? I know, I know, it’s ever-present and unavoidable. I rarely if ever let it leave my brain. Still, I totally understand why Norm and others would keep this news to themselves, even though they had to know the shock and intense sorrow that it would inflict upon the people who knew them as well as the people who “knew” them through their fame. This Technoblade kid (twenties is still a kid to me) probably wanted to keep streaming Minecraft and giving his commentary to his loyal followers without having to bum them out with his stage 4 cancer. Completely respectable and relatable.

Minecraft itself was one of those generation gap moments, as well as the popularity and financial prosperity of those who stream games and offer their insight online. It’s an incredible world to me, one with which I’m barely familiar, but to these kids…it is everything. Early in his life, my son developed a penchant for and extreme enjoyment of Minecraft. He attempted to explain it to his hapless father, to no avail. I tried to “play” it and craft things and found it daunting and nearly-impossible. Still, it seemed like a rare game that didn’t feature a ton of shooting and killing, so I encouraged young Xander to stick with it. He did, and to this day he still plays it and enjoys watching the masters and their online streaming of this seemingly-productive video “game.” I never heard him speak of this Technoblade fellow, but his words last night let me know just how much he meant to my son.

Xander told me how he felt about the sudden passing, discovering too late that one of his favorite content creators had been battling stage 4 cancer. He then told me how glad and grateful he was that I had a much more curable and treatable form of cancer, and how much he appreciated me keeping him informed about every step of the way. It moved me so deeply and I managed to choke back the tears and tell him that I made the early decision to share everything with him and let him process and deal with it as best he could. He said that he appreciated that a lot. I told him that it definitely isn’t easy as a dad, as we never want to bring anything sad or scary to our kids’ awareness, but I would be doing both of us a great disservice by keeping him in the dark. We talked further about my road to a cure, what lies in front of me, what I’ve already been through, and how important it is to stay positive. He said that was something that he really admired in me, which again made the tears very difficult to restrain. He said that he was proud of me and I reciprocated that, telling him that he had handled this like a champ.

What. A. Moment. I hope that you never have to experience anything like that with your own kids, but it was something that meant the world to me. It’s truly making the best of a shitty situation, which is what life is all about (sometimes). To have a son who can handle a situation like this with aplomb, strength, and great resolve is all I could ask for. He hugged me again and said “hell yeah” when I told him that we would beat this thing together and that my recent scan showed progress when it came to the shrinkage (shout out to those of you who love that word) of my affected tumors and lymph nodes. Then, he went to his room to undoubtedly talk to his friends online as they unpacked their emotions regarding the sudden passing of a young man they respected, appreciated, and admired.

I was left to watch the intense final round of the last episode of Press Your Luck and the dude on there left with nothing. The Whammies got him. I felt bad for him and his family, who thought they were getting matching Toyotas but instead had to watch the hilarious (to me) graphics of a Whammie taking away their beloved contestant’s prizes and money. It was a good palate cleanser from the emotionally-intense but rewarding conversation with my son about cancer and how it affects the people who surround the patient/warrior. I have some great and supportive people in my corner, you included, but few mean as much to me as the young man that I brought into this world and helped nurture through communication, unwavering support, and unconditional love. Rest In Power, Technoblade, and thank you for bringing joy to my son and his friends.