Love Life by Rob Lowe Page A

and his new pals. He nods in his solemn way.
    After dinner the gang plans on going to one of the local nightspots. “Dad, you gotta come!” He insists, and I know, like me, he is playing to delay the end of the evening. I leave before sunrise in the morning.
    Sheryl will stay later (I have to be back at Parks and Recreation by noon to shoot a full day) and she urges me to go. “Do it. He wants to be with you. I’ll drop you off.”
    But at the hot spot it is wall-to-wall kids, easily a couple hundred of them, raucous and spilling out into the street. I know I can’t wade into a group like that unnoticed. Matthew knows it too.
    “Honey, I can’t go in there,” I say as everyone piles out of our rental car.
    “I know, Dad.”
    We lock eyes for the tiniest beat. I want to see what, if anything, he will say. His new “bros” are already striding to the club and he doesn’t want to be left behind. This is the college good-bye I’ve heard so much about and dreaded so deeply.
    I close in to hug him, but he puts just one arm around me, a half hug.
    “Peace,” he says, a phrase I’d never heard him use until he said the same thing to his little brother in the driveway.
    Then he turns on his heel and strides away. From his body language I know he won’t turn to look back; I know why and I’m glad.
    I watch him until I can’t see him anymore, until he’s swallowed up by his new friends and his new life.
----
    Our house is not the same now. Sheryl and Johnowen and I, overnight, have a completely different dynamic. Quieter, gentler, deeper in some ways that I cannot understand. Matthew’s dog, Buster, has stopped eating, which is maybe not a bad thing considering his weight issues. I had a five thirty A.M. call on set the next day and I used it as an excuse to sleep in Matthew’s room. I told myself I did it to have some quiet to get to bed early.
    My children have always made me feel . They have always taught me, changed me, always for the better. I hope I have been the best dad I could be and that I have succeeded more than I failed. Having them in my life turned me into a man. Now, with my long-distance longing and worry, covered by electric excitement about the future for Matthew, I realize that saying good-bye to him has turned me into a boy.
    And now, we will both grow up.

With my favorite Patriots fan.

The 99 Percent
    I love acting. I love what I get to do for a living. It’s one of the greatest blessings of my life. I never lose sight of the fact that so many work at jobs that are merely that—jobs—that so many put in their efforts mainly so they can go home and do what they really want to do. It’s much easier for me to get up at four thirty A.M. to go to a job I’m passionate about than it is for some to go to a job they are indifferent to.
    However, as the British would say, I very much enjoy “taking the piss” out of my line of work. It’s not that I don’t value my industry, it’s that oftentimes we have it coming. I’m sure there are more than a few examples of tomfoolery in show business in these pages but it’s because I have such an affection for my fellows and the knowledge that sometimes we all could be better, both as performers and people. I’m never more aware of this than when I see one of my own performances or replay an interaction with my friends, family or coworkers and think, “I can be better than this.”
    I want to live up to my heroes. It’s well-known that there’s always someone better than you are: more talented, more famous, richer, smarter, better looking. Someone is always doing something better than you are and being better rewarded for it. There isn’t a person on earth who isn’t part of this 99 percent in some fashion. But I never feel envy; I’m not resentful or jealous. I don’t begrudge the elite. I worship at the altar of the elite. These are not folks to vilify or use as political fodder. For me, these are the North Stars to be used as guides to