Years ago, while backpacking solo, I happened upon a tattered copy of Kent Nerburn’s Letters To My Son. As someone who has had a difficult relationship with their dad – a good provider but stoic and insular – I gravitated towards the openness, compassion and wisdom in those pages.

Even at 21, I wondered … how might I try to close the distance if I were to have a child? What would I say about where we/they came from and why walking towards vulnerability will help them feel more accepting of who they are.

Why passions fire the soul and curiosity sustains it. What love might feel like and how appearances can be deceiving. How they might deal with disappointment or loss. And why life is forgiveness school.

Well, Marc is showing us one way to do it. He is now my Substack daddy. There is so much tenderness and care in his reflections and evocative turns of phrase.

He’s there to bolster little Myles’ sense of self (‘Tell them you’re from catfish and grits, and Soup Joumou on the first day of the year”), offer precious skincare advice (“Rubbed down in coconut oil, grapeseed, and rosehip too”) and give it up to Mommy time and again (“I'm the sidekick who awkwardly rides in the sidecar, complaining they're tired but isn't the one driving”).

Through his long-form letters and spoken poetic notes, Marc does more than share his parenthood journey or amass an archive for his child to sift through in later years. We get a sense of a father opening up to their son here and now. These are imperfect offerings, expressions of love they can build on as Myles finds his voice and the world turns.

Start with this meet-cute, which is also a message to the singles on the station platforms.