Flag Day

Your father,

he was released on bail, pending trial.

His arraignment hearing had been set for Monday.

He didn't show up.

The troopers made every effort.

Do you know what this is?

This is very high quality.

The ink color is perfect.

The paper is good.

The weight, watermark, plate work,

it's all meticulous.

There's even a metal strip embedded.

In six months, he had passed almost $50,000.

- He printed $50,000? - No, Ms. Vogel.

He passed $50,000. He printed $22 million.

He was facing a maximum of 75 years.

Um, may I hold it?

It's beautiful.

My father...

he died a hundred times

poking holes in his veins,

like so many rehearsals for our ultimate rejection.

We get pretty good at it, don't we?

- (sign creaking) - (kid chattering in distance)

It says, "Happy Highway Harry."

It says, "Only three miles to make a meal outta life."

(gentle guitar music playing)

My father came and went from our lives.

Showing up only when he hungered for affirmation.

I adored his attention,

and he accommodated that.

As wholeheartedly as he abandoned it.

Memory reckons itself in blurs and flashes.

The special moments of childhood are like fairy tales.

And in mine, my father was the prince.

Improved Captions by Sailor420 !!! Hope you enjoy the show !!!

There are plenty of ways to kill oneself.

The idea is that, given the range of options,

each suicide reflects the life that preceded it.

If this was true,

then Dad's end would be violent and spectacular.

(folk rock music playing on radio)

Everybody asleep around here?

I'm awake.

- You wanna come up here? - Yeah.

(music continues playing on radio)

Move right here. That's right.

That's the gas,

that's the brake, that's the shift.

Those are the basics.

I'll just be here if you need anything.

- No! - What's up, honey?

I can't... I can't reach the pedals!

Sure you can.

Look at how long those legs are.

That's it, just keep it right there.

No, Daddy, please don't leave me!

Snicklefritz, you gotta learn how to drive.

It's the only way you're gonna see the world.

Just take care because there's a bend up here

in about an hour.

An hour?

My mother sometimes called Dad Peter Pan,

for the kind of silly charm

that allowed him to make reckless, impulsive decisions

look like perfect plans of action.

In those times,

he always wanted to make things perfect for us.

Replace the humdrum of everyday life

with new places and unexpected moments.

He purchased the farm on a payment plan he couldn't afford.

It was a dilapidated old place,

but he filled it with classical music

and always kept things fun for Nick and me

while he and Mom fixed it up like a permanent family home.

But as more delivery trucks arrived, brimming with materials

purchased on IOUs that would never be met,

the light fluttering music of Dad

seemed to fade into a darkness.

And with each layer of darkness,

a new reason to disappear.

Give me my record! No!

Give me my goddamn Chopin...

I will fucking break it!

I'll punch your whore face, you goddamn witch!

Fuck you! You're a shitty-ass husband!

Dad explained his absences

by claiming to be working

on some mysterious business endeavor,

and left Mom to pick up the pieces.

She tried to find regular work,

but spent most of her time

staring at walls and worrying about unpaid bills.

(somber guitar music playing)

(kids laughing and screaming)

First pioneers would be in the Blue Ridge Mountains

and the Bluegrass

To the emptiness.

(somber guitar music continues)

Dad always seemed to call Nick and me

when Mom was sleeping.

His voice made me feel like part of a bigger world.

A bigger world I could only dream of.

(adventurous music playing)

- (door creaks) - (groans) Fuck.

Ugh.

What?

We're gonna go live with Dad.

- Okay. (laughs) - (drink pours)

You kids are like his hunting dogs.

He only runs you when he feels like it.

It'll be better than living with you.

Nick?

You, too?

There are things about your father that you don't know.

Like what?

- When you're older... - I am older!

Nick, we're leaving.

Fine, fine, fine! Go! Get outta here!

(John and Jennifer screaming joyfully)

Oh, there's gotta be some kind of mistake, Beck!

My kids are much smaller than these two.

Look at that little button nose.

Look at you two.

Now go and get your bags from Uncle Beck's truck.

I got it.

I really appreciate you bringing them down.

How's their mama?

How do you think she is, you bastard?

You left her with two kids and no dough.

That was bust, I had to make a move.

I see your moves, John.

Man, you had a good girl

and you steel-toe kicked her heart all over the street.

You know what?

She'll get back on her feet.

In the meantime, you just take good care of her babies, okay?

It's not like that. I mean, they are my babies, too.

- Yeah, yeah. - See ya.

I'd do anything for those kids.

Yeah. Prove it.

Dad! Oh, my God!

Oh, no! (exclaims)

Oh, my God. Dad, way too much lighter fluid!

He might light the tree on fire!

Boom!

- Oh, my... - (music continues)

- Good Lord! - Anybody?

- (kids) The "Nocturnes"! - What number?

- (kids) "Number 20"! - (Debbie laughing)

See, how many kids you know know their Chopin?

When can we eat?

I told you ten times, it's gotta marinate.

You asked for pepper steak, right?

If it doesn't marinate,

it's not pepper steak, it's just steak.

I'll take just steak.

- Too late, it's marinating. - (knock at door)

Hold the thought.

- It's all right. - (music continues)

Do you like music, Jennifer?

Um, yeah. I like ELO.

English rock, huh? - (door opens)

Have you heard Bob Seger?

I don't think so, no.

What? You have to hear Bob Seger!

Okay, fellas, I'll see you in a couple weeks.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! What are you doing?

- I'm changing the mood! The mood?