The Truth of Consent Is the Universal Truth

One of the men in the audience said, "Well, I appreciate what you're saying, but you must remember that your truth isn't my truth, and what's true for everyone isn't true for everyone else."

Then he started a misinformed diatribe about transgender students in locker rooms, as if that would lead to more sexual assault and rape. That then led to an uproar from the audience calling him ignorant and defending the student speaker, who was only sharing her experience with being sexually assaulted when she was 14. Most of us in the room were grateful for her message of better sexual education classes in middle school and high school, as well as starting lessons around consent and boundary setting earlier in elementary school.

This was one of the sessions I attended at this year's California School Board Association (CSBA) Conference. I've attended it annually for the past three years since I've been a school board trustee. Each year it's been a powerful learning and networking opportunity for me and the over 5,000 other trustees across California who attend.

I went to the high school student's session, who's now 18 years old, because I wanted to hear a young person's perspective about the dangers of sexual assault and lack of consent and boundary setting skills. Her sexual assault at age 14 nearly destroyed her, but she survived and persevered and is now a powerful young advocate with an Instagram movement called Respect4Consent and a petition to introduce policy to protect students against sexual assault: The Safe & Documented: Survivor Rights and Protection Policy.

Instead of staying and hearing everyone's response to his statement, the misinformed man left in a hurry, blaming us all for his need to flee. That was followed by a couple of well-meaning men still steeped in patriarchy claiming that men need to protect women. That's something I was brought up to believe as well, but today I have a much improved anti-misogynistic perspective about social, emotional, and physical safety skills for everyone thanks to my wife, my children, and important organizations like Kidpower (in full transparency, my wife works there). 

The high school speaker at the conference shared important school health policy considerations that go a lot farther than "abstinence-only" school programs that always fall short. Abstinence may be a path to prevent sexual mishaps and misconduct, but it omits consent entirely. She posited that early consent education normalizes respect and body autonomy for all students, and my wife and I couldn't agree more.

We've been talking with our own children about these things since they were in elementary school. Thankfully they've had solid sex education courses provided by our school district along with school-based values programs from Second Step. 

And of course, they've been immersed in Kidpower since they were little. They may deny they use what they've learned over the years, but we see them put it into practice when necessary. Thank goodness. This is important because my wife and I didn't have the same curriculum that our kids have today, nor any safety skills training back in our day. 

Here's a simple boundaries and consent safety checklist from Kidpower (applicable to kids, teens, and adults).

Touch, attention, and games for play, affection, and fun should be:

• Okay with each person
• Safe for feelings and for bodies
• Allowed by the adults in charge (if they're kids and teens)

And they should never be a secret. So, when it comes to our teens being equipped to identify coercion or assault to protect themselves, the truth of consent is the universal truth. No means no. Please stop means please stop. The end. 

Sustaining This Sustenance

It was five minutes until the lighting of the Boardwalk Christmas tree. Dusk settled into early evening and there were people everywhere: adults, teens, and families with little ones running around. Santa was spotted and kids rushed over to meet him. The weather was cool but mild with only the need for sweaters, sweatshirts, or light jackets. 

We had found a table right around the corner from the tree across from the pirate ship ride and listened to one of the local high school jazz combos play on the small stage next to the ride. They were amazing. Of course I focused on listening to the drummer who had some fabulous stand-alone jams. 

"It's like we're in a holiday jazz club," my wife Amy said. 

"I know. They're great," I said, and kissed her. We'd never been to a jazz club together, and even though it really wasn't one, it was still a pleasant first.

Our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, were off with their own friends enjoying the Boardwalk evening. It was two days after Thanksgiving and the upbeat crowds moved and sparkled like overlapping projection lights. That was great to see considering the current state of the U.S. and the world around us. Higher prices and fewer jobs weren't holding these folks back. Plus, the free hot chocolate and cookies were nice motivators. 

The countdown commenced, the tree lit up, the crowds cheered, and the kids screamed. No matter where all the people around us were socioeconomically or ideologically, the only thing that mattered were these moments of togetherness and holiday cheer. It sated our appetite for connection and community, of safety and wellbeing, and knowing there's always room to grow.

We moved onto the beach in anticipation of the holiday drone show, a faux fireworks spectacular. Hundreds of people poured onto the beach as well and the drone show commenced. Fireworks would've been prettier but the drones were cool. They morphed into various holiday shapes and words. We all shared our oooo's and ahhhh's, and after 15 minutes, it was over. 

After the Boardwalk holiday tree lighting and drone show, we packed up our chairs and blanket and headed to dinner. But first I again feasted on our community's love of family, friendship, and all the other ingredients for the American values revival we've longed for. Sustaining this sustenance beyond the holidays will be the key for a better future. 

The Sun's Love

Hearing them sing The Rose made me teary and it had been years since I'd heard it. When the joint choirs sang a mashup of Amanda McBrooms's The Rose with the Praetorius Lo, How a Rose, arranged by Craig Hella Johnson (which I had never heard of), I had forgotten how much I used to love The Rose.

The Rose was the theme song to the 1979 movie by the same name, loosely based on Janis Joplin's life and starring Bette Midler. She also sang the song The Rose. I was in 8th grade at the time, and I remember hanging out at a friend's house with other friends where we practiced singing different songs, one of which was The Rose. I don't remember why we were practicing (maybe for 8th grade choir?), but that song has always made me teary, even before I fully understood the lyrics.

It was such a wonderful way to end the joint community college and our kids' high school choir performance. Both our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, are in choir and theater and loving both. They've found "their tribes" who have embraced them and vice-versa. 

One of my tribes back in the day was also choir. Both in junior high and high school. Music has always been important to me (and my wife Amy and our kids). Music fills me with reverence. Singing elevates my spirit. (And so does drumming!)

We're so very grateful watching our teens grow, thrive, and become who they are. It hasn't all been a bed of roses, though; in their short lives they've had their own share of thorny trials. Each of us has to experience our own journeys, to meet head on our moments of highs and lows, and our children are no exceptions. 

As parents, we are their guardians and their guides, supportive and loving, but we can't live their lives for them. Don't want to live their lives for them. We've already grown up once and that was bittersweet enough. Instead, we continue to impart the wisdom learned from our own lives. Because we're always learning how to keep growing and thriving. Easier in the best of times. Not so much in the worst. But even winter hearts can birth springtime souls. 

"Is Dad crying again?" our kids ask regularly. 

Yes, yes he is. Let's listen to The Rose again, kids. This Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the sun's love.

"...When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose..."

Always Room to Grow

There once was a man who thought not living was life. Who believed not making choices or taking chances could help him bank time for the end of his. To exchange the risk of pleasure and pain for longevity and a lonely but safe obscurity. To extend safe obscurity beyond his ceiling's expiration date. 

He always had a hard time with happy. But everyday not lived wouldn't stop his ceiling from caving into oblivion someday. Because that can happen at any time. 

That was me decades ago. For over the first half of my 60 years in this bittersweet world. Thankfully I was never buried by oblivion because I decide to live and take chances. To live as fully as possible in every moment that I breathe in and out, heart pumping, soul singing, grateful for my wife and my children. Grateful for even when I'm fussy, angry, or frustrated, since I will always be called back by my enlightened soul's siren song to safe harbor, not wrecked on the rocky shore of failure and regret. 

Nearly 30 years ago I met my wife Amy one day at the beach. Early on in our relationship she had bought me a journal with a cover that read "Celebrating the miracle of your choices." That still epitomizes my life lived ever since; Amy always celebrated her choices and helped me do the same. It's part of our wedding vows that we read to each other on our anniversary. Our children are extensions of these celebrations and this blog is a testament to that celebration. 

Speaking of celebrations, some of my dearest friends of over 40 years from high school and college have turned 60 this year, including me. Although we lost a dear friend earlier this year who made it to 59, we're all still bound by decades of shared friendship, values, love, and lessons learned, of surviving failure and regret, of forgiving ourselves and celebrating the miracle of our choices. 

One of those birthday celebrations was for our friend Rob. The evening was filled with reminiscing about the past, celebrating the present, and manifesting our hopeful futures' promise. When the party wound down and we all started to say our goodbyes, Rob asked me how it felt to be 60. Before I answered I asked him how he felt. He said he felt great, that it was crazy we were actually here now. 

I said, "I feel great, too, but I am feeling the ceiling."

Rob's girlfriend asked me what I meant by that, and I responded that maybe there was another 20+ years left, if I stayed healthy. 

"There's much more life to live," she said, smiling. "Don't dwell on the ceiling."

She's right. I may be feeling the ceiling but there's always room to grow.

An American Values Revival

Even after the largest peaceful protests to date in America (the No Kings protests), which were all about protecting our individual rights, saving our democratic republic, and so much more, my wife and I have never been more unsettled about living in this country. This because the party in power openly and unapologetically practices grift, greed, extortion, discrimination, deceit, retribution, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, harassment, and assault. Not to mention authoritarianism. 

American values have taken a dystopian turn for the worst for many across the political spectrum. Except those who openly and unapologetically support them all, whether they benefit from any of it or not. And it's clear that only a very small percentage of them (the wealthy) benefit. 

We're not only unsettled, we're scared for families everywhere. Scared because of the increased violent rhetoric and literal physical violence from both sides of the political and ideological spectrum happening throughout our country. 

To be clear, we're a privileged white family that has never been profiled, targeted, or forcibly removed from the very streets we assumed were always (mostly) safe. However, that's not exactly true anymore since this country has again become more dangerous for women and the LGBTQIA+ community in the past 10+ years. And that impacts our family directly, my wife and our daughters. (Thank you goodness that the Supreme Court rejected a long-shot effort to overturn same-sex marriage ruling.)

Just check out the recent article titled America Is an Increasingly Dangerous Place for Women and Girls by Carrie N. Baker, J.D., Ph.D., who is the Sylvia Dlugasch Bauman professor of American Studies and the chair of the Program for the Study of Women and Gender at Smith College.

Here are some excerpts:

Approximately 41 percent of women in the U.S. have experienced sexual violence, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 

Everytown Research and Policy reports, “Guns amplify the inherent power and control dynamics characteristic of abusive intimate relationships, whether as lethal weapons to injure and kill or as a tool to inflict emotional abuse without ever firing a bullet.”

One in five women will be raped in their lifetime. One in four girls is sexually abused before age 18, with more than one third abused by family members. 

Male-dominated legislatures in 18 states have passed abortion bans that endanger women’s lives. In states banning abortion, intimate partner violence has risen across the board, with the sharpest increases among women ages 25 to 34. 

I'm sure there are those who feel we're overreacting. Maybe we can undo some of the anti-democratic damage already done. Maybe this is just another ideological swing within a history of swinging in this grand old democratic republic of ours. Maybe we can prevent the final fall into third-world civil war oblivion. But a double-downed patriarchy combined with no moral compass combined with too much crazy and too many guns equals more violence to come. 

Unfortunately, this is where we're at today in America. It's become more unstable and dangerous for too many individuals and families. For females especially. For LGBTQIA+. For Black and Brown people. For the working class. For the middle class. For everyone. 

My wife reminds me to not fall into "otherisms", though. To not generalize about people we don't agree with. To not make it about us versus them; we good, they bad. But when I think about the dystopian turn we've taken, where again grift, greed, extortion, discrimination, deceit, retribution, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, harassment, and assault are the values of the powerful few and their followers -- my skin crawls to think this is America today. 

However, we do still believe in the American values of individuality, personal responsibility, community, opportunity, freedom, and liberty, and that they are inextricably linked to love, empathy, compassion, truth, humility, inclusion, and integrity. These are also foundational for safety and wellbeing. Our daughters need an American values revival and that's what we intend to give them. 

Light Up to the Music

Bryce expected me to say no. I'm known as the fussy dad who always says no. But I didn't. Not this time anyway. They wanted to go to a youth Halloween concert and fundraiser being put on by a local music school called Be Natural Music at an amazing local venue called Felton Music Hall, and one of Bryce's good friends was singing in one of the bands. Bryce asked me if we could go. And I said yes.

To be fair, Bryce knew I loved music as much as they did, and because the concert was local, I said yes. Our whole family loves music. My wife Amy and I are six years apart in age but love most of the same music from the 1970's, 1980's, and beyond. Both Bryce and our oldest Beatrice are in the high school choir, and their love of popular music as kids has morphed into a love of alternative, punk, rock, and more as teens. 

The music we loved growing up throughout adolescence became the permanent coming-of-age soundtracks of our lives, from positive heart thumpers to bittersweet soul crushers and throughout the spectrum in between. Our kids are experiencing the same thing now with their music, with an added plus: enjoying some of the same music we grew up on. And some of their new music we're digging, too.

A few weeks before the youth concert, I celebrated my 60th birthday. We had a wonderful celebration with family and friends and Bryce wanted to play the guitar and sing. They were nervous and we weren't sure they'd do it, but do it they did. And it was wonderful. 

They also wore a Rush t-shirt, too. In fact, they've taken many of my Rush t-shirts and wear them proudly. Beatrice still has one of my old Rush sweatshirts she wears once in a while, too. Neither of them like Rush's music, but even without knowing their music as intimately as I do, they do understand the spirit of individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, empathy, and love. The kids are in luck, because I'll be buying more merch at the Rush Fifty Something tour happening next year. Never say never. 

Bryce and I had a rockin' good time at the youth concert. Each band played three songs, but what I wasn't expecting was the quality of the musicianship and the singing. Bryce's friend belted out The Weight by The Band and two other songs, including Fire on the Mountain by The Grateful Dead. Cover after cover, these kids rocked The Police, Ozzy Osbourne, Fleetwood Mac, and so much more. 

What's old is new again. Watching Bryce light up to the music and their friend singing lit me up (naturally, of course); I know they want to be on stage someday. They actually already have sang solos via choir, but now the goal is to play the guitar and sing on stage. I've also asked Bryce if they wanted to jam in the garage with me and my drums -- still working on that one. 

It was nice to see and feel all the musicians at the youth concert light up to the music they were playing. I lit up. The audience lit up. The place was rocking. Our kids need the music more than ever these days. Oh, blessed rock and roll. Thank you for always coming through.

A Future That Works

Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school this year and college discussions have become a priority. When I started writing about our family, before Beatrice was born, I never really envisioned this moment. Talking about college, I mean. The same is true for our youngest Bryce, but they're a freshman and have a few years yet. The public high school they go to has what's called the Excel Block Schedule. This means students take 90-minute classes each day, which are equivalent to year-long classes in the more traditional two-semester system. Talk about nice prep for the college talks.

And both kids have their eyes on college, too. Beatrice primarily wants to be a teacher and Bryce wants to be a marine biologist. What we think we aspire to be and what really happens are always initially parallel lines that may diverge at some point and head in directions they never imagined. That happened to both their mom and me. Amy wanted to be a marine biologist and I wanted to be an architect and then a psychologist -- and we're nowhere near those professions. 

And that's okay, because both Amy and I lived our lives and figured out who we were and what we wanted to do professionally. We've been together for 28 years now, which is over half of Amy's life since we met. There is truth to feeling motivated and passionate about the work you do, but the reality is that you still try to balance that with making enough of a living to provide for your family and then some. 

And then some to be able to help send them to college, with or without financial aid, and/or help them explore other career opportunities. Beatrice could also be an artist someday and Bryce a musician, both things they love to do. Or maybe a trade could be a choice since a lot of private equity investment has been poured into plumbing, HVAC, and many other trades. 

So, I took Beatrice to college night at our local community college. Not only was the community college highlighting their programs and the value of starting there and then transferring to another university, there were dozens of other universities represented from California and other states. Beatrice felt like she wasn't asking the right questions, but she did just fine. I coached her a little and asked my own questions of the college representatives on site. 

It's been quite the journey watching them both grow up into early adulthood. College night was a kick because it was just me and Beatrice talking about life today and where it was headed tomorrow. I shared my bumpy college experience with her, how I went from nearly not finishing to finishing with honors, and talked about how Mom went to a junior college first and then transferred to a university. Beatrice and I shared yummy food truck gyros and falafels onsite and then made the rounds in the gym talking to the different colleges represented. I thought, this is the beginning of talking with our children like the adults they're becoming, and I felt blessed and super grateful. 

More so since in an ever-increasing dystopian world where the abnormal continues to polarize and is normalized, where artificial intelligence is fundamentally changing everything around us, and the greater rest of us long for more peaceful middle-of-the-road days swirling past. Today, our children look tentatively hopeful at a very scary future. But one where they control their narrative as much as they can that will hopefully have a positive impact on their lives and the lives around them. As we drove home, I wished for a future that works for them. For us all.