My Weird Quarantine Obsession: Dad House, by Jaime Fountaine
A BRIEF HISTORY OF DADHOUSE,
Probably 1994? I attend a “Young Authors Conference” at Pennbrook Middle School featuring children’s book author and illustrator Kevin O’Malley. My mom is annoyed she has to do something on a Saturday morning and I learn absolutely nothing about writing or conferences.
Summer 2017: Michael Tager asks me to be on a panel he’s pitching to the fall Conversations and Connections conference about writing and time management. I say “sure,” assuming no one in their right mind would allow me to do this. Dave Housley allows me to do this.
October 2017: Did you know that Pittsburgh is over 5 hours away from Philadelphia? I didn’t when I signed up for this. The fine folks of Barrelhouse let me crash on their Airbnb couch. Since I’m not an editor, and my panel isn’t until the afternoon, I have some time on my hands during the conference. I use it to invent “DadHouse,” a fictional reality challenge show about dads coming together for a long weekend to make friends, be positive male role models, and, in Housley’s case, briefly lock me in a running car to “appreciate” a Grateful Dead song while he buys more bourbon.
The rest of 2017 and well into 2018: Many DadHouse jokes are made on Twitter.
October 2018: By the grace of the poet Celeste Doaks, I’m once again on a panel at C&C Pittsburgh. I yell “let me be the Andy Cohen of dads!” in a hot dog restaurant, and come up with a network’s worth of spinoffs including “DadHouse After Dark: a grilling-centric recap show with house band The Walking Dad” “My Mom’s New Boyfriend,” for guys who might not be ready for the big leagues (co-hosted by Christopher Gonzales). A Chatham grad student approaches me as I’m de-boxing some wine bags and asks “Are you the Dad House lady?”
March 18, 2020: Five days after my job moves to remote work, I make the @Dad__House Twitter account, open up casting nominations for an evening without explaining (or knowing) what that could possibly mean.
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A different kind of person might give you a very philosophical explanation of DadHouse, some long-winded and flowery meditation on family or fatherhood, perhaps weaving in some self aggrandizement about the role fiction can play in uncertain times. Or maybe it would be an ornate origin story, a wonder of world building and in-jokes that set up everything for multiple, complex seasons calibrated to pull every heartstring.
But I’m tired, and I barely know what day it is, so let’s keep it short: Our reality is bad. Why not spend some time in an absurd, wholesome alternate universe?
DadHouse has expanded from its original form, a fake tv show where a group of dads spends long weekend in a house together, just hanging out and making friends, to an imaginary Twitter neighborhood spanning states and time zones where contestants respond to challenges and handle tough situations with the show's nebulously aged children on their own time, throw parties for our extended DadHouse family, and try to get Mr. Dan Exotic’s horse to Zoom us from the garage. It’s a strange, positive little corner of that hellsite, and I’m so grateful to everyone who’s jumped in and made it bigger and better and weirder.
DadHouse is here for you. DadHouse is proud of you. DadHouse loves you.