Morgan & Me: A Tale of Two Dads

For Morgan Spurlock on Father's Day 2024

Relationships define us. They shape our experience of the world and determine if our lives are meaningful or empty, productive or not, happy, satisfactory, painful, and joyful.

At a dinner party in the fall of 2011 I met the woman who would become my wife, and a foundational part of my life. Like all humans she came with a history; Alex’s included a child and a famous ex-husband.

On our first date I found out that Alex was the vegan girlfriend from, and co-creator of, the documentary "Super Size Me." That she'd traveled the world, been to the Oscars and on Oprah — and that she had recently divorced Morgan Spurlock.

It was a bit surreal and exciting. I remembered Alex vividly from the documentary, and from an episode of the reality show "30 Days” where she and Morgan had lived on minimum wage for a month. I’d found her so attractive and cool on screen. And now here we were eating vegan Korean food in midtown then spontaneously visiting the near-empty observation deck of the Empire State Building where we kissed in the fog.

I fell in love with Alex. And not long after we decided to build a life together. This was a conscious decision based on both reason and passion. We knew we were a good match; we liked each other and our life goals were similar. We also loved each other; and love comes from somewhere beyond reason.

Once we love someone, and decide to let them into our lives, I don't believe we then get to pick and choose which parts of them to care about. People are not sub-dividable. And because humans are defined by relationships, loving someone means loving the relationships that define them.

So when I fell in love with Alex, and we decided to merge lives, I also fell in love with her son. And falling in love with Laken meant falling in love with the relationships that defined him. So I fell in love with his Morgan too.

I realize most of this in retrospect. Life rarely feels so clear looking forward. But now I see the delicate, beautiful, and complex structure we formed. Alex and me; Alex and Laken; Laken and me; Laken and Morgan; Morgan and me.

I write this today because I loved Morgan and am grateful to have had him in my life.

The relationship between biological father and step father is full of tripwires and vulnerabilities. The relationship between ex-partner and current partner too is delicate and potentially volatile. Popular lore tells us that this relationship should be competitive and fraught. That there is, or should be, a good guy and a bad guy.

But love is not a competition. It is not clean or clearly delineated. Love is a journey, or rather companionship we find along our individual journeys. My relationship with Morgan shaped my life as profoundly as any relationship I have had. We both cared deeply for Laken, so we were cared for each other.

The first time I met Morgan was at an ice skating outing for Laken’s kindergarten. I felt out of place, like a usurper, a parent who had not yet become a parent — a potential tangent. As we skated around the rink in Queens I watched Morgan skate with his son and could see (and was a bit jealous of) the bond they shared. Alex and I skated behind them for a time, then Morgan turned to Laken and said “go skate with mom and Bob.”

It was a small gesture of inclusion, of welcome. But it was powerful and set the tone for the rest of our relationship.

I never once questioned Morgan’s love for Laken or his respect for me and the role that I played in Laken’s life. A role that became more substantial over time.

A few years after we we first met our roles shifted. Morgan suffered professional and then personal loss. He struggled (with things that few people know and that I will not share) and my love for him increased. I think his love for me did too.

Morgan and I were never friends in the traditional sense, our texts never got more intimate than movie recommendations and pictures of Laken. But when we were together, usually for a kid-centric gathering like trick-or-treating or a school play, he always had a moment of genuine presence for me — and I for him. At first these were handshakes and eye contact, accompanied by Morgan’s signature crooked and wry smile. Later we turned to hugs and small verbal expressions of appreciation and care.

Not only did I love Morgan. I respected him.

As his career constricted I watched as he turned the substantial energy he once spent on filmmaking and courting public attention towards the very small circle of his sons. The three of them baking, gardening, and going on adventures.

Morgan and I had our differences, but they were (mostly) complementary. And for me our relationship was healing. He gave me Laken. He gave me family. So he gave my life a deeper sense of purpose and meaning.

I don’t want to overstate things or claim things that are not mine to claim. But it’s impossible for me to think of my relationship with Morgan without also thinking of how fraught it is to be a man today. We were raising one after all.

What Morgan and I were able to do together is something I wish I could hear more men talk about. About how we can collaborate to co-parent; and the tensions and joys these strange relationships can offer.

Our son will graduate high school next week and it breaks my heart that Morgan and I won't get to celebrate this together. He passed away in May after a devastating year-long struggle with cancer.

I’m beyond grateful to Morgan, not just for bringing Laken into this world but for the grace and thoughtfulness with which he approached our relationship. It could have been contentious. It could have seeded a triangulated conflict. Instead it was a foundational part of my life.

I miss him terribly and am grateful to have known him.