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My dad was a workaholic. I saw him work seven days a week.

My father was out of my life when I was pretty young - when I was 7 years old, he was gone. I didn't see him for the rest of my childhood.

I missed my father so much when he died that writing about his life and mine was a way of bringing him back to life and getting me to sort of understand more about him and what made him the father, the husband and the man that he was, and how that made me the man, husband and father that I am.

When you grow up around it, I just watched my father work really hard. He wasn't around as much as I would have liked. And when I grew up, I understood why.

My dad and mom divorced when I was around ten, and I didn't live with him after that, though he was close by and we saw each other weekly. I wasn't really aware that he was a writer; I didn't start reading his writing until I was about fifteen. It occurred to me then that my dad was kind of special; he's still one of my favorite writers.

I lost my dad way too early and it was agonisingly awful. I missed him so much and I hated knowing that I could never again pick up the phone to tell him about my day.

I worked so much when my first son was born that I missed a lot.

My dad never missed a day of work, and he was always smiling when he came home.

I miss my dad, yes. But I try to honor his memory, as well as all the victims of Hurricane Katrina, through the love I have for all humanity, a love I try to express through my music.

My parents divorced when I was 3 years old. They had a lounge act in Las Vegas, where I was born. The band broke up and the marriage dissolved, and my mother, my sister and I moved to Southern California. And I didn't see my dad a lot growing up; he was on the road a lot. I'd see him every couple years.