U must have some amazing stories about your dad u can share! 🤩
I’ve sat on this one for a bit, sorry Anon. Wasn’t intentional but I… just didn’t know how to answer it.
I mean, I get it. He’s Jeff Tracy, right? The Jeff Tracy. I can remember being just a little kid, and going to meet him off coming home from his latest mission. All these huge crowds cheering for him, those amazing rockets, and little me thinking this was equal parts insane, but also incredible.
The thing is, everybody has their own stories about him. It’s fascinating, because you’ll hear all these other stories about him that exist only thanks to other people. Colonel Casey, Captain Taylor, hell even Kip Harris knew him. All these huge figures have got larger than life tales of the incredible things Jeff Tracy did, and was, and inspired. There’s statues to him, and libraries have got plaques, and you can take a tour at the space centre about his missions, and there’s books and movies and documentaries…
There are five incredible machines he dreamt up, sitting by waiting to help achieve this fantastical goal of his to help in the world. I guess in a way, you get to snatch a little glimpse of who Jeff Tracy was, and what he believed in, every time one of them appears to save the day. Every time some kid points an excited finger up at Thunderbird Two or squints after a contrail that was Thunderbird One, there he is. That magic, that excitement, that kind of imposing extraordinary that he did so well.
People come bounding up to us, to me, and they ask this sort of question, and that’s the thing about being JEFFTRACYSSON (said in one breath at rapid pace, because that’s the way people greet you). I get the curiosity, I really do. I don’t say it with any malice intended, and it’s comforting to know he still has that kind of impact. I’m always happy to talk about him, I promise!
It’s easy to be JEFFTRACYSSON when you pull on an International Rescue uniform too. It took a little practice to ease into at first, but it’s perfected now. It’s really easy to talk about how we believe in his dream, how we’ve all taken on that duty in our individual and collective ways. In the importance of iR, in what it means to us as family. Shiny uniform, perfect hair, smile and wave and save some lives 💪🏻
Don’t misread this, by the way - I’m very proud to be Jeff Tracy’s son. It’s actually quite difficult to really put across how strongly I feel about the weight of that title, because it’s pretty sacred (and also a little intimidating at times). Everywhere we go, it’s “oh, you must be Jeff’s boy” or “oh, you’re a Tracy”, and that means there’s instantly an expectation to live up to, both publicly and privately. It’s a privilege, it really is, and I think it’s a kind of sacrosanct commitment that has really been at the centre of my thinking as I’ve gotten older - how to try and be the sort of man that deserves that kind of birthright.
Not just because of all these spectacular things he achieved, though, and everything that our family name now means - and this is the part that catches people out.
See, behind the scenes, to me, to us as a family, he was every bit human in a very ordinary way.
He made the best Sunday pancakes.
He cheered far too loudly at swim competitions (and teenage me was perpetually mortified by it) and was every bit as encouraging and supportive as you might guess.
He told these excellent, awful dad jokes, always at just the wrong (or right, I suppose) moments that made you groan.
He used to let me drive his old truck up the drive when he came home from a long mission, playing country songs with the window rolled down.
We loved pranking Mom together by hiding in the laundry bin and jumping out like idiots.
He told the most spectacular, far fetched bedtime stories he swore were real, and my brothers and I could never get enough of them.
He was also away for months on end in space, or training, or lost in his plans and ideas and dreams, and sometimes that meant he wasn’t really here with us, even if he was.
He couldn’t do laundry for shit, and he was absolutely useless at trying to run a house with five young sons on his own, and only a military background to lean on for ideas (thanks Grandma and Scott for saving that one).
Being Jeff Tracy’s son is a little more complex than just the uniform, I guess, and because of that I don’t always recognise the Jeff Tracy in the books and the movies that people are so desperate to hear more about.
I think that’s why I find answering questions like this so difficult, and why maybe my answers never land particularly well. Because the expectation is an entire reel of grand tales that haven’t been heard yet out of me. Some heroic, unbelievable stories that read like the plaques - and then they are always a little disappointed that it turns out all I can say is that he was a real person. Somebody who was very human and very brilliant and very flawed, and who I loved very much. Because to me, he’s my dad.
And ultimately, nobody wants to hear about that. It doesn’t fit their two dimensional, mythical image of him, or me or my brothers for that matter. Us being a fairly regular family doesn’t really inspire the kind of tales that perhaps lend themselves to be told.
(This is the biggest reason I don’t do interviews, because I’d be like you wanna hear about the time he took us on a hiking trip, got us lost in a storm and Mom nearly divorced him because she thought we’d all been eaten by coyotes? No? It’s hilarious, honestly!)
That’s alright, though. Like I said, the movies and the books are there to tell those stories, and Lee Taylor will happily yap your ear off for an hour about their exploits if you want. Dad’s legacy, in that form, is more than secure.
They’re not going to ever be able to tell you about his favourite pancake toppings though, or his favourite song to dance to in the kitchen or his favourite swear word, and there’s the real privilege in getting to be Jeff Tracy’s son. In getting to carry him forward, not just the stories.
This got a lot deeper than I intended it to go. I’ve had a beer and I rambled. Sorry Anon.
Ahem. Good question! I guess I’m just not the best person to answer it, ironically enough ;)
I guess the best that I can offer is that if you are ever in trouble and call us, just know that there was a really great human being behind the face that made it all possible, who told the worst jokes, but who cared a whole f-ing lot.
*insert generic story here about Dad and a rocket*
