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. 

The Autonomy Train

I slept restlessly for the first two hours with my cell phone near my head. My wife Amy was already long asleep, knowing I would be checking if they needed a ride home from the homecoming dance. I checked a few times to see if there were any messages from our teens but there were none. Before I finally fell back asleep for the final time that night, I thought I had heard them come home, and all was right with our world. 

We're at a point now where we want our kids to have more autonomy, independence, and more problem-solving skills to figure out what to do in life without our direct parental intervention. We've given them plenty of emotional, psychological, and physical safety skills over the years thanks to Kidpower, and we continue to reinforce those safety skills continuously, teen eye rolls and all. This includes always understanding what the "safety plan" is if help is needed when we're out together or when they're on their own, which is more and more these days being 15 and 17 years old. And to always let us know if the "plan" changes and why. 

So, when both our kids wanted to go to the high school homecoming dance that would go to 11 PM, and Mom and Dad like to be asleep by around 10 PM, we asked them to find a ride home. Neither of them drives yet; our oldest Beatrice hasn't been in a hurry to drive, and our youngest Bryce can't wait to drive, but still has to wait until the spring. That's okay. Even though Amy and I were driving back in high school, driving is a lot of work (and insuring a teen is a lot of money these days). Beatrice does have friends who drive now, but they're not supposed to drive with other kids the first 12 months they have their license, and we don't want them too either (right now). 

We have reciprocal friends who share in pick-ups and drop-offs, including us, when our friends' kids need rides. Our kids are also comfortable taking the city bus that drops off right down the street from our house and have done so many times in the past few years. While we wouldn't want our teens to ride home on their bikes from a school dance that late at night, only Beatrice uses our e-bike. Bryce uses no bikes. (We tried a long time ago to be a bike family, but that never worked out.)

Plus, the next night after the homecoming dance we were taking Beatrice and a friend to see a concert and knew we'd be coming home after midnight, way past our bedtime. Two nights in a row of late nights and disrupted sleep don't bode well for us, especially Amy. 

We enjoyed the homecoming football game and halftime show while our kids hung out with their friends and then went to dance. When we left the game, we texted them to ensure they had their house keys and to ensure they found a ride home, preferably together, and we let them know the buses still ran that late. They responded that they had their keys and would find a ride. Of course, we'd get them if they had no other ride no matter how late it was, which is why I was restless with the phone near my head. The Mom-and-Dad Uber service is always available, but we agreed that it's time for them to adult more often and figure out (safe) alternatives. We're grateful that they hang out with good kids.

They had fun and made it home safely from the dance that night, getting a ride from another friend's parent. In a few years they'll be doing a lot more adulting on their own without Mom and Dad's help. Blessings to them. The autonomy train has left the station and it ain't coming back. Toot-toot.

These Dry Kids Today

What could go wrong with having 14 teenagers over unsupervised for a few hours?

Actually, nothing. Everything went quite right. 

While my wife Amy and I were out celebrating my birthday and our anniversary with dear friends, our oldest Beatrice had thrown herself a belated Halloween birthday party with her good friends (some of whom were the kids of our friends). Bea planned it all, from the decor to the food to the activities. It was quite the production. Amy helped her out with the food before we went out, and I helped a little as well, including decorating for Halloween outside prior to the party because Beatrice loves Halloween. Our youngest Bryce loves their sister but wanted nothing to do with all the teens in our house, so instead spent the night at her best friend's house.

What's great is that Beatrice is taking a culinary class this semester in high school and is learning a lot about food, cooking, and presentation. From a cemetery spinach dip to mummy dogs to ghost pizza and strawberries to spider Oreos, she really had quite the spread for her friends. 

What was missing thankfully were the alcohol and drugs. That's not a joke either. Zero interest from our kids and their friends as far as we know. No vaping either. Nothing. However, when Amy and I were 16 and 17, we had many friends who drank, smoked, and did various drugs. We did as well, although I didn't try alcohol until I was 18 during my senior year. And shortly after high school I started smoking cigarettes. I smoked a pack a day for much of that time until I quit on September 22, 2002. 

But the drinking was common during our teenage years and early adulthood. My sister and I threw many parties at house when our parents were away (which they always knew). We were literally like all the 1980's teen coming of age movies personified. Amy had similar party times as a teenager, too. I was also in a fraternity in college and there was always lots of drinking going on.

Decades later during the pandemic, many parents we knew who drank moderately prior to covid upped their ante on drinking. We were no exceptions. But then Amy stopped drinking just over three years ago, and I drink less frequently overall, even periodically debating about stopping drinking all together myself.

According to a new survey released by Gallup in the summer, only 54 percent of Americans now say they drink alcohol. That’s the lowest share since Gallup began tracking the question way back in 1939, six years after Prohibition was repealed.

Wow. That's down quite a bit, but humans have been drinking alcoholic drinks in some capacity for thousands of years, brewing beer, fermenting wine, and creating other distilled concoctions. The more recent conventional wisdom that moderate drinking is okay and can be good for you, like red wine, just isn't correct. It turns out that the World Health Organization reported "no level of alcohol consumption is safe for our health". Then there are the devastating effects of addiction and alcoholism on the addict directly and their family and friends. 

The good news is that, besides the dip in overall alcohol consumption, it's even more dramatic for teens, with some recent data suggesting that alcohol, tobacco, and other drug usage has been declining significantly since the late 1990s.

That's why it's funny when our kids joke with us and say things like "I'm going to host two parties while you're gone", which Beatrice really said but no other teen ever said (unless it was a Tupperware party). Or, "We're going to find our stoner friends and tell them we'd like to buy one drug, please", which was funny coming from sardonic Bryce when I asked what they were going to do with their best friend when they spent the night. But no, no stoner friends, and no drugs or alcohol. And we check in regularly with them, too. 

Beatrice's Halloween "adulting" birthday bash was a big hit without the bad stuff. Maybe in the future they'll try something, but today they don't. These dry kids today with their culinary skills and safer and stronger social bonds. Mercy me, maybe we should be modeling them instead. 

Our Quality-of-Life Difference

In that moment, I exploded. 

It wasn't their fault. I was late picking them up from school knowing that I had a work call I had to get back to. I had sat in the car, getting more anxious with every second that passed, texting them to hurry up.

I called our oldest Beatrice. "C'mon, I have to get back," I said. "We're coming," she said. Seconds passed. Then a minute. The rubicon of me not making it back in time for my call was coming.

It was a busy time at work for me. Still is. The weight of things I had to do combined with my perception of the state of world and our country became an avalanche of glacial darkness. I could feel the impotent rage not far behind. 

I texted both Beatrice and our youngest Bryce. They said they were coming. Finally, I could see them approaching the car. It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like a span of geological time. 

They got in the car. Bryce said hi. Beatrice said she was really tired. I don't even remember what I said at first, just that my voice escalated with rage as I pulled into the street to drive home. I yelled and pounded on the steering wheel. I vaguely remember babbling about how hard I work for our family to support them, and how I have so many things to do, and how they didn't seem to care about that.

Then it was over. Neither of them said a word. I'm not even sure they breathed for a minute after that. I know I didn't. I felt horrible, but I was still mad. We drove in silence for a few minutes. I kept my gaze forward watching the road ahead. 

My anger drained away and I felt empty and ashamed. I knew I had scared them. "I'm sorry I yelled at you both," I said. "I'm just really busy and frustrated about work right now." I sounded muted, like I was on the other side of a room from them speaking quietly. No one spoke the rest of the way home.

Once we got home, I told my wife Amy that I had "flipped my lid" and yelled at the kids. I then went straight upstairs for my work call. I struggled to stay focused during the call, but I got through it. 

Afterwards I got the opportunity to apologize again to both of them. Bryce seemed aloof about what had happened (such a teen) but appreciated my apology. Beatrice and I had a positive, reflective conversation about what had happened. She appreciated my apology, too, and apologized for not hurrying to the car. I told her it wasn't their fault, because it really wasn't. We told each other we loved each other and reconciled. 

It's rare that Amy and I blow up at the kids, or at each other, but it's happened over the years. We're human, but usually centered, empathic, respectful, and mindful in how we treat each other and communicate with each other, and with our kids. I'm still the grumpy dad sometimes, yes, and we're still the parents and they are the teens. We are all sometimes overwhelmed by our own ancient limbic system and biological breakdowns. We know they're learning to adult, and we want them to model loving and resilient humans who understand life can feel overwhelming at times, but how we react to it makes all the difference in our quality of life. 

So, for my birthday today, I will celebrate my family and our quality-of-life difference.