True Life: The Day I Met My Dad (on MTV)
Fifteen years ago I met my Dad for the first time.
Fifteen years, minus one day, ago is the last time I saw him.
(If you want to watch before I spoil it for you — you can either watch it here or on Amazon Prime — 2007 Ep. 11)
—
Most people meet their dads once — on the day they were born. My route was a little different.
To celebrate the 15-year anniversary of that meeting — I thought now would be a good time to reflect on the experience.
Why? How? Good? Bad?
The best thing it did for me was give me an unbeatable, “Never have I ever” prompt.
“Never have I ever met my dad for the first time ever at age 20 on (inter)national television,” which is always nice to have.
And, honestly, that was the #1 reason I did it: novelty.
When people would ask, “why?” I would make up bullshit excuses about how, “everyone is curious about where they come from” (I wasn’t) or about how I was hopeful of a potential relationship (I wasn’t).
It was 100% motivated from, “I’m bored in life — what’s a weird fucking thing to do?”
Not exactly a sappy emotional fairytale — but my truth.
I decided it was a good idea while dozing off in my documentary filmmaking class at the end of my first year of college.
At this point in my life — my undiagnosed ADHD, along with my complete lack of guidance and coping skills would give me about 20 seconds of focus at max. I’d never cracked a text book open in my life. It was still rare to bring laptops to class and batteries lasted about an hour or two max. Despite this, I spent one particular documentary class applying to potential documentaries of all sorts — because in my mind, I could learn documentary filmmaking much faster by DOING it with a famous big-budget company than I could by discussing Werner Herzog & Errol Morris theory ad nauseam— or watching Nanook of the North in slow motion while dissecting every frame. (Probably utility there — but not my preferred style of learning.) I so badly want to honor and respect the liberal arts technique of learning — but again — that 20-second attention span won’t allow me to fully appreciate, respect, and learn from…anything. 😬)
So…that’s why I chose to “approach” this experience. So…how was it?!?
Well…the interviews with MTV are fuzzy at this point — now 15+ years later — but I remember them being comical. And I did my best to say what they wanted to hear. Again — not because I actually wanted to meet by dad — but because I was falling in love with the prospect of, “seeing behind the curtain” to my actual father: television.
This is all related, in a weird way.
I was raised by television.
It was not only my only cultural lens & getaway from Sheboygan, Wisconsin — but being raised by a single mom who worked a lot meant TV was my babysitter, sibling, parent, and best friend.
Looking back — we were pretty poor but my mom splurged for cable (something none of my friends had) — probably because it was cheaper than more babysitting or travel. In the end: very economical.
I’d estimate I watched 10–14 hours of TV a day. Shows I never missed include:
Ren & Stimpy, SNL, Salute Your Shorts, The Drew Carey Show, Clarissa Explains it All (saw this one LIVE), Late Night with Conan O’Brien, Beavis & Butthead, Nick Arcade, Chip n’ Dale Rescue Rangers, Double Dare, Nickelodeon Guts, What Would You Do, Doug, Rocko’s Modern Life, Another World (because Lisa Bonet), Saved by the Bell, Who Wants to be a Millionaire, The Price is Right, MTV Real World (not so much Road Rules), American Gladiators, Legends of the Hidden Temple, Hey Dude, Pop Up Video, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, That creepy live action Mario show even though I hated it, Boy Meets World, The Tom Green Show (important culturally imo), The Norm Show, The Simpsons (underground cartoon show), WMAC Masters (some strange Saturday morning martial arts show), AND most importantly: when my grandma would babysit me we would watch Antiques Roadshow together and bet 10 cents per item to see who could get closer to the appraised value — to this day my all-time fav tradition from childhood and probably great training for my eventual appearance on The Price is Right.
Point is: I watched a lot of TV. Probably because I didn’t have parents or anyone else in my house.
Now…I was going to use television to find my missing parent. Life is a circle.
I wanted this experience with TV — not watching, but actually being involved — to last forever.
Although I was a very sporadic person up to this point in my life — and honestly never really tried at anything sincerely (aside from winning a Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater tournament at age 17 @ Lollapalooza that allowed me to hang with Jane’s Addiction, Audioslave, and Incubus — story incoming some day) I never gave anything (or anyone, sadly) more than a day’s effort of time.
This was it. I finally wanted something — and I was going to get it!
MTV eventually stated they were flying a “film crew” to Sheboygan from NYC. Part of me thought it was still a scam, or a friend messing with me, until proven otherwise — with a knock on my door.
But knock they did! Apparently the first few days were a trial run — just getting some intro and b-roll footage to see if I was worthy of recording. Am I boring? Was I full of shit? Can I “perform” under the pressure? (I loved eavesdropping when the camera lady would call and talk to her producers in NY and discuss my worthiness and the status of the “story arc”. It felt like I was living inside a movie — the exact experience I was looking for…
But…eventually it wore on me.
I didn’t know then what I know now — namely two major things: in 2007, at age 20, I had a ton of unresolved trauma and was a scared, angry, guarded, and deeply-broken person. Also — those were some of the worst years of my life — where my trust was (justifiably, looking back) at an all-time low.
So, trusting some Hollywood producers to accurately portray my life — as much as I tried to fake it — was not in the cards.
Most days, the camera would be on me about an hour or two after I woke up to about 3–4 hours before I went to sleep for two-weeks straight.
One odd evening we took a break while the camera stayed with my mom to film some interviews with her while I went off with friends.
When I returned later in the evening to my family home, the camera person said, “wait, stop, go back out and come back in — we didn’t have the camera rolling”.
I FUCKING FLIPPED OUT.
I was livid. “This isn’t your perfect little fucking production — this is my actual life — and I’m not gonna let you script it and make it a picture perfect fucking ending because that’s not life. Fuck all of you!”
I locked myself away in my room and refused to film for the remainder of the night.
I was disappointed with the fakeness of TV (and this was one of the better, more “real” shows). Despite the irony of applying to this show in the midst of a documentary filmmaking course — where I learned about how Herzog staged 50% of this movies.
(For the record and the good name of “MTV True Life” — this was the only time I was told to be a phony — it never happened again. Lesson is: it pays to be a D-I-V-A.)
But…that’s not nearly the sketchiest thing that happened.
At age 16, four years prior to filming, I worked as a Cashier at Wal-Mart (don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my badass anarchist reputation — but for the record: I got fired TWICE) and someone who worked in the back claimed to be my cousin. One day, she slipped me a letter. In this letter, she expressed that my dad lived in Dallas, had been attempting to contact me my entire life, misses me, and wanted to have a relationship…along with his phone number.
Now, as a 16-year-old — the furthest thing on my mind was meeting my dad. I was too busy playing Grand Theft Auto and filming Jackass stunts with my friends. I barely saw the family members I currently had and wasn’t in the market for new ones (there were shopping carts to push off jumps and Green Day concerts to go to).
So, after receiving the letter — I glanced at it for maybe 2–3 minutes, shrugged, and put it away deep in storage.
In the midst of filming — I dove into storage and found it, and handed it over to production. I thought it might be an interesting tidbit in the narrative arc!
At first — production acted excited (potentially cool plot device!) but once they saw the phone number — they grew concerned. I was too innocent in the moment, but yeah, obviously looking back if that phone number is still active this story isn’t going to be able to stretch into a feature-length episode — more of a TikTok story (or should I say Vine — more honorable to the era).
So, smartly, they asked, “is it okay if we take this letter back to our hotel so we can film it better?”
Sounded like a stupid and awkward request — but why the hell not? I was used to working around morons so I didn’t question it to the degree that I should’ve. I had nothing to hide.
The next day the team showed up in a somber mood and told me they had news.
They had, somehow, trying to get the perfect lighting while shooting the letter accidentally dumped a drink on the letter — utterly destroying it to the point of it being incomprehensible.
In my youthful ignorance, I still had enough faith in humanity to take them at face value with only slight-skepticism, “oh boy…what a strange coincidence. Well…can I have the remaining letter back?”
“Sadly…no. It was too bad. We had to throw it away.”
Again…my 20-second attention span came into play and although this was worth fighting for, researching, and exposing — it soon floated to the back of my brain.
Onto the next day of filming…
I guess I expected being part of a WORLD FAMOUS MTV production — that we would have a giant budget and would be able to hire a private investigator or get Dog the Bounty Hunter or Robert Stack (the Unsolved Mysteries guy) — but nope. Production would not be assisting me whatsoever in my endeavor…aside from the attempts to sabotage.
So, for the first time in my life, I genuinely started to become somewhat curious about where I came from and who my family that I’m missing out on was.
My technique for finding them was ingenious, sophisticated, and I cannot believe I’m giving it away for free: I cracked open the “phone book”.
My last name (Wiroll) is shared by like 13 people in the country. All of them must be related to me (due to someone obviously fucking up the spelling of Worrell in the not-so distant past).
And so, I called the top name in the phone book: Henry Wiroll.
Never heard that name in my life — but odds were good that if he wasn’t my dad — he probably knew the guy. My middle name is my dad’s name (Charles) so I had a good feeling it wasn’t him. (Charles isn’t the same as Henry for those who need me to explain it further)
Again — MTV was probably pissed when Henry picked up the phone…
Henry: Hello?
Me: Hey what’s up — I’m just chillin.
Henry: Who’s this (custard-thick midwestern accent)
Me: Craig.
Henry: Big?
Me: Craig.
Henry: What’s your last name?
Me: Wiroll. Anyway — What are you doing?
(I’m not great at phone calls normally — but this is probably one of my worst performances)
Henry: Oh — just sitting around. I just got out of the shower. (TMI Henry)
Me: Huh. Okay. Well do you know Chuck Wiroll?
Henry: Oh, yeah — I sure do. Want to come over?
Me: Oh. Okay. See ya soon.
This was so sudden. It was almost two weeks into filming — and the first week and a half was spent dilly-dallying around with friends and arguing with my mom and sister about why I wanted to meet my dad (my excuse: I’m half him — it’s natural and normal to be curious about where you “come from” — which was bullshit).
The truth is — a part of me felt like I was betraying my mom for doing this. She worked her ass off for the previous 20 years to make sure I had food and wasn’t getting arrested and now I was going to go hang out with her ex-husband. Despite my inherent loyalty — I still had a natural urge to see this through, because never meeting someone who shares your last name does something to your psyche that I can’t quite explain.
My mom & sister weren’t actually worried though. They said after 10 minutes of talking to him I’d realize what a “macho shithead” he was and I’d naturally be uninterested. That reassured me but made me even more curious as to what this mythological creature could be like.
So — I jumped in the car (along with MTV) off to meet Uncle Henry.
I stepped out of the car and walked toward a house that was just a few blocks from the house I was raised in from age 0–18 near Lake Michigan. Henry approached me at I neared the house — with a handful of people curiously careening their necks behind him.
“So…what’s this all about?” was justifiably his first response after quick hello — referring to the camera. I assured him that I genuinely wanted to meet my dad and that the camera was documenting it because…I needed motivation or because I was a film student or something (I forgot the made-up excuse I used).
Henry asked me, “So…you want to be part of the family?” and I responded about how I thought it was “about time”. But my real honest truth was that I already had a family. A tiny, awkward, unconventional, eccentric, and oftentimes toxic family — but they were my one and only. The thought of considering other people I was meeting at age 20 anything but intriguing acquaintances was unlikely. But after some quick small talk, calming their fears of the camera, attempting my best to translate everyone’s extremely thick Sheboygan accent, Henry came out with a bombshell:
“Wanna go see your dad?”
Me: What do you mean?
Henry: Well…your dad just moved back from Texas last week. So, if you wanna go head over to see him — we can go over der now? (over there)
Me: ……..
Me: ……..alright.
Two weeks of blabbing about where my dad could be, how I could meet him, how I’d feel when I met him, what the past 20 years without him have been like and now…he was minutes away. His brother, my uncle, was about to escort me to my Dad’s house to meet him, *really* meet him, for the first time in my life.
The moment was too big and too much. I wasn’t as in-tune with my feelings then as I am now — and in that moment — I left my body.
I’m not entirely sure where I went…but about 20 minutes later I was pulling up to my Dad’s driveway. I got out, feeling self-conscious about how this random guy who contributed 50% of my DNA would perceive me.
Then I saw a shadowy figure approaching from the garage. He was exactly my height but with 25% added “padding”. As we embraced, he went in for a bearhug. The only thing I really remember was feeling his sandpaper stubble as it cut into my neck as we embraced.
As he and I both took a step back — we took a moment to stare at each other. Sizing each other up in a this-is-the-closest-I-will-ever-get-to-seeing-my-clone-unexpectedly-in-public kinda way.
This went on for a few minutes before he suggested we go into the back yard to sit on the deck and chat.
Exactly how long does it take to “catch up” with your child/father after never seeing them — and then connecting for the first time in 20 years? Obviously I had plenty on my mind and am an extremely opinionated person — but I was still floating and not completely present in the moment. Maybe it was some sort of protective mode — but I was mostly taking it in. I could tell a topic he really wanted to discuss was defending his decision to not be in my life.
He talked about the attempts he made over the years to contact me. He said my mom would thwart all of those. He said not a day went by where he didn’t think about me. It was touching and I believed him. He was really saying exactly what I wanted to hear but what I didn’t think was possible: that my dad didn’t abandon me. He actually DID want to be in my life but wasn’t allowed to due to circumstance and relationships outside of my control.
But, quickly, the conversation turned. He began pining over my mom — his “lost love” and the one that got away. He talked about how hard he tried to get her to stay around — but that nothing he could do would change her mind. He expressed extreme disappointment in screwing it up and letting her go. It was clear how much regret he had. But, to be honest, I didn’t even expect him to mention my mom at all when I was meeting him. She just doesn’t think about him whatsoever outside of recalling how he was an abusive angry toxic drunk — so for him to talk endearingly about her was very surprising. And when he wouldn’t shut up about her (with his new wife inside the house we were sitting outside of) I just started to feel sad and awkward.
To me, it seemed like the story of my mom and dad was one of a woman who wanted a second child (me) but not a husband — and a guy who wanted a wife and would do anything to keep her around (including making me).
In the end, I think my mom got everything she wanted and my dad got nothing. Seeing me was probably a reminder of how terribly he had failed in his quest to be with my mom forever. He then continued to ask me questions about my life, like: “Why aren’t you in the Marines?”
“I don’t know — I guess I’m just more a college type.” He seemed quite disappointed by that response. Apparently he faked his own ID to drop out of high school and fight in Vietnam before turning 18. I, on the other hand, was building GeoCities websites and chatting on AOL Instant Messenger for 15 hours a day around the same time in my life — so I can understand how we had little in common.
I had also heard growing up that my dad’s side of the family was part Native American. Coming from a family with absolutely no heritage/traditions/religion, from a place where all the land was stolen from native people, and all the cities were named after tribes (Waukesha / Ashwaubenon / Chippewa / Menominee /etc.) I had a natural curiosity about this potential lineage. When I asked my dad, “So, I heard I may be part Native American — is that true?” he responded swiftly, “Why? Do you want a handout from the government?”
I can understand maybe he thought my intention for seeking him out was a hidden agenda to get a government subsidy due to my hidden Native lineage…but that was the furthest thing from my mind. I was more interested in the existential, “Who the hell am I, really?” — but we quickly dropped that topic with no further examination.
(I should note that our difference in politics at this point were apparent: he was wearing American eagle/flag embroidered military propaganda and I was wearing a thrifted shirt that said “Proud Pompom Girl”)
While we were meeting — my dad (Chuck) had about 12 beers. I personally did not drink yet at the time — a rarity in Wisconsin — but mostly because I saw how unpredictable and angry people consuming alcohol could be. Seeing how big of a part of his life alcohol was made me draw a pretty swift conclusion that this (he) is probably not something I want or need in my life.
At the end of the night we exchanged phone numbers. As I walked out his front door — he called to me: “I love you, buddy.”
Those words are heavy. There’s no doubt they are something I had been lacking my entire life. Has a man, any man, ever told me they loved me up to that point in my entire life? I don’t think so. I cannot imagine today what my brain was feeling in that moment — but I do remember how I responded on instinct:
“Love you too!”
Did I mean it? Did I actually love this man?
The simple answer is: no. Not at all. I had no reason to love this guy. I had a biological deterministic predisposition to feeling admiration for the guy — but beyond that he was nothing to me. My response was strictly a reactionary response filled with hope rather than truth.
I’ve since looked back on that scene. I can tell how forced my response was. But 15 years ago, I so badly wanted it to be true. If upon meeting my dad, he was someone who was jazzed about all the things I was doing with my life and wanted to help me explore my interests. If he didn’t nervously chug down beer. If he didn’t whine about how wonderful my mom was and how he let her get away and how it pained him constantly. Then, maybe, I could sit here today and tell you that I have a great relationship with my dad.
But I don’t. I have no dad. I never did.
Although we exchanged phone numbers — he never rang. I also didn’t bother to call him. I guess it was a mutual lack of interest.
Unlike the uncertainty I had as a child…when my mom said no phone calls were coming in (to which my dad refuted — classic game of he said/she said)…this was without doubt.
A dissolving end to fit my dissolving origin.
I can’t really say I’m disappointed by the whole experience. Meeting a man who loved me, respected me, wanted to help me grow, and be a regular part of my life would’ve been the equivalent to winning the lottery. I didn’t expect it by any means.
Instead, I allowed myself to be abandoned by Chuck for a second time. But, this time, I didn’t need him. And, this time, I actually had some say in the matter.
The thing I always get most excited about when I realize I have a TV show of me meeting my dad is that someday I might be able to share it with my own kids.
Ever since I was about 5 years old I’ve wanted my own kids. I still don’t have any — but I have been mentoring youth for the past 17 years through different programs. I’ve also wanted a younger sibling my entire life. I guess it stems from the lack of mentorship and guidance I received, but so desperately craved, in my own life. Maybe someday this weird-ass TV show will help my eventual kids understand both why their dad is so strange and also why they don’t have a grandpa.
All I know is that if my kids call a TV show to help them find their Dad, it’ll be a pretty boring episode — “oh he was just hiding in the bathroom, playing games on his phone for three hours on the toilet”.
I would love to be a part of that show.
—
Some reflections now that I have hindsight:
Am I glad I did it?
I guess — but I wasn’t mature enough to handle the situation. I wish I would’ve waited until I was older and somewhat-actualized to meet my dad.
Did you like the way MTV portrayed you/your story/your family?
Yeah I think they did a really good job for a genre that’s known for extremism and drama. The most common feedback I received was, “you mom seems like an asshole” which…wasn’t that true anymore by the time of this filming. I think she went into a stoic place and it came off as cold. I also feel like I came off as pretty boring and wasn’t allowed to be my wacky/zany self — but they didn’t use a lot of the footage of me being a total weirdo.
You really never talked to your dad again?
I really never talked to my dad again.
Any regrets?
The only thing I regret is being young and immature. I wish I would’ve been nicer to the staff/crew and the other “co-stars”. I definitely had a love/hate relationship with the producer/camera lady. I respected her and her job — but part of her job was to be up in my face and getting me to talk about things I didn’t want to. I was in an angry and impatient time in my life and I think the whole experience brought out a lot of negative energy for me. A year after filming wrapped, MTV called me back up and asked to fly me to NYC to do a reunion show — where I would star alongside fellow True Life stars — From “True Life: I work in the Sex Industry” & “True Life: I’m Happy to be Fat”. I’d never been to New York at that point in my life and it would’ve been a dream come true — but I turned them down to spend Spring Break with my friends instead. Seems like wanting to be a good friend rather than taking a free trip was my priority back then…but oof what a missed opportunity.
Any interest in meeting your dad again if he’s still alive?
Nah.
Craig Wiroll is a frozen custard aficionado from the Midwest. He is the author of 26 unpublished books that mysteriously burned in a barn fire in 2014. He is a has-been a reality television “star”, game show failure, Asian elephant rehabilitator, waterfall repairman, two-time garlic eating champion, and also worked at Pizza Hut and The White House.
He lives with his cat Dr. Dentist — oftentimes out of the back of his Subaru.
Wiroll.com
Wiroll.medium.com
Linkedin.com/in/wiroll
twitter.com/wiroll
instagram.com/wiroll
