A Spirit Breaking Free

"...the measure of the moment
in a difference of degree
just one little victory
A spirit breaking free..."

–Rush, One Little Victory

In less than two weeks he would've turned 60. We talked about that a lot in the last few years of his life. He looked forward to it, because although living each year beyond 50 was harder, it was a win, nonetheless. For decades he told me he always said he wanted to see what happened next, wanted to be a part of what happened next. And for the most part he did. And was. 

The last time we were all together was right after he turned 59, way back in January. The four of us and Robby, celebrating our over four decades of friendship, and what now feels like a lifetime ago. Because at our age, another year of life can be a lifetime when it's lived well and full. The cosmic joke is that you blink and life races by; your little kids are now teens; your teen friends are now 60. But I'd argue that my dear friends and I, including Robby, have always lived well and full, even when it didn't feel that way. And I've had plenty of feeling that way, especially in my younger years. 

Those younger years are but bittersweet memories now. Bittersweet, building-block years of lessons learned and of letting go. Of embracing each moment since and living it as if it was my last. Of being grateful for my life, my wife, my children, my family, and my friends. 

Last January was a lifetime ago. Since Robby passed away in February, the four of us -- Rob, Greg, Craig, and me -- have seen each other more than in previous years, including Robby's celebration of life, and we're grateful for every visit. Two of us turned 60 and we all celebrated together. Robby would've wanted it that way. He loved having us all together, even when he'd obsessively complain about our past transgressions when we were all together. 

I miss our laughter. I miss our catch phrases and jokes. I miss our high school reminiscing. I even miss his obsessive complaining about our past transgressions. We talked regularly on the phone over the years since we only saw each other once or twice a year. His heart broke for me when my first marriage ended. It broke for me when I had a falling out with another longtime friend of ours. He was happy for me when I finished college. When I finally overcame my darkness. When I met my wife Amy and when we had our two children. And he loved the fact that I learned how to drum when I was 55. 

Paralyzed from a swimming accident our senior year in high school, he became a talented artist over the years. But it got harder for him to draw and paint as his body atrophied, his strength dissipated, and his chronic neurological pain increased. He also struggled with meds. The last two years of his life were difficult for him, and he was in and out of the hospital with broken bones and infections. We're grateful that his sister Diana kept us informed of his health. 

My heart broke for Robby every time we talked. He would've given anything to be able to walk again, to live an able-bodied life like the rest of us. But Robby lived as full of a life he that he could -- happily, and full of warmth, humor, sincerity, and love. His sister was right: "He lived the biggest life anyone in his situation could have. Robby had a golden glow that I’m sure still radiates from him wherever he is."

He talked a lot about getting back to his art. The last five years of his life he'd bring it up in nearly every phone call and I encouraged him to get back to it. Both our children are artists, and when we all visited Robby a few years ago, they were blown away by his artwork (and all his comics and his amazing superhero figurine collection).

After Robby died, his sister shared a picture with us that he had drawn the day before he passed. To me, it expressed the physical pain he'd experienced over the years. But it also embodied a spirit breaking free.

Blessings to you, my friend. We'll celebrate your 60th and your spirit come 2026. 

The Abundance Mindset

The Alice in Wonderland ride at Disneyland is one of our favorites. When our kids were little, though, it was a little scary for them, but eventually they came to love it. Our oldest Beatrice especially. 

Although Disney has a reputation of sanitizing classic stories, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland included, the silliness and absurdity of Wonderland is still captured in the Disney animated movie and the ride. The novel by Lewis Carroll was about the transition from the innocence of childhood to the confusing complexities and contradictions of adulthood. It explored an absurd dream world that often mirrored anxieties about growing up and societal rules. Alice ultimately represents the sensible individual navigating absurdity. 

Funny how that works. That's how I felt growing up. That's how I feel now. Yes, I created my own anxious absurdity over the years from young adulthood to my early 30's that I struggled to overcome at times. I always thought the universe conspired against me; that God conspired against me. I grew up in scarcity, believing that everything was limited and out of my reach.

But thanks to my own mindful awakening, and my wife Amy's spiritual guidance, I realized the universe is nothing but abundance. That there's nothing but endless potential, resources, love, and opportunities that exist for everyone. That even with the chaotic and dangerous societal absurdity everywhere today, we can navigate it, push back on it, thrive in it, let it go, and express gratitude for the choices we make every day. 

We impart the abundance mindset on our two teens regularly, at least Amy does more consistently, and that's helped them with their own anxieties about growing up. I still trip periodically over my scarcity past and revert, causing me undue angst and stress. I recognize it even as I'm doing it, which is why I can thankfully rebound quickly. Both Amy and I grew up with very little and we're grateful today for what we have today and what we can provide to our children. We also recognize our privilege, too, knowing there are many marginalized families that struggle to make ends meet in our community. 

Which was why we were happy to attend the Mad Hatters Ball — Raíces y Cariño Gala, a fundraiser for the organization that helps local lower-income families experience health, safety, and joy in our community. It was fun dressing up in the "Alice in Wonderland" theme, play silly games, and listen to some amazing young people sing, all for a great local cause. 

This holiday season, avoid the rabbit holes, embody the abundance mindset, and pay it forward however you can. Blessings to you and yours this holiday season. 

Digging Those Christmas Beats

Five years ago, I started playing the drums. Something I had wanted to do for decades I finally did. It's been amazing. It's been challenging. It's fired synapses in my brain I never knew I had. And most importantly, it's been fun. 

Since then, I usually play for at least one hour five to six days a week, before or after dinner, when I'm not traveling for work. I've had lessons, used online programs, and have a regular practice regimen. I've also learned over 180 songs I've loved over the years. Mostly ground in rock and roll but also including pop, rhythm and blues, soul, and even contemporary country. I get to channel amazing drummers that I aspire to play as proficiently as they do someday. 

The first two years I was lucky to get through and learn one to two minutes of a song, but then I finally improved enough to get through entire songs. Not note for note; I do my best to hit 80%+ of a song and record it. On average it takes two to three hours for me to learn a song, and once I record it, I move on to another one.

The past three Christmases I've learned various holiday songs, but this Christmas, I asked my wife Amy and our kids Beatrice and Bryce if there was a song they wanted me to learn to play. 

Beatrice didn't have to think about it, she just immediately said, "You know the song 'Do They Know It's Christmas?' -- that's the one I want. Who's it by again?"

"Band Aid," I said. "It was one of the super-group awareness and fundraiser songs like 'We Are The World'. Lots of MTV 'first wave' and rock and pop artists of the 1980's."

"Cool," she said. 

It's great because Beatrice is a big retro-80's-sound fan and likes bands like Duran Duran and others. I recently learned Hungry Like the Wolf and she loved it. 

The Band Aid song was a perfect choice for our caring, empathic kid who loves Christmastime and can't wait for us to decorate every year.

"...And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time..."

And oh my, Phil Collins played the drums on this. I had totally forgotten about that. So much fun to play Do They Know It's Christmas?. 

Bryce was also quick to select and said, "Play The Waitresses song 'Christmas Wrappings'. That's one of my favorite ones."

"You got it," I said.

What a perfect choice for Bryce, our sometimes aloof, and always "punk rock", yet super sweet and loving kid who also loves Christmastime, even when they play it down. 

"...Bah Humbug, now that's too strong!
'Cause it is my favorite holiday..."

Billy Ficca was the original drummer on the song. So much fun to play Christmas Wrappings.

For Amy, it was a little harder, just because there are so many holiday songs we both love. One of her favorite bands is Train, and so last year one of the songs I learned was their rendition of This Christmas. 

Instead, she went more traditional, "How about, 'We Need a Little Christmas'?" 

"Which one?" I asked. I looked up some of the versions. "Johnny Mathis?"

"Yes," said. "That one."

What a perfect choice for Amy, always encouraging smiles and cheer throughout the year. Beatrice also likes all the old-school traditional singers and Christmas songs. There's no drummer credited to this song that I could find, but I just started learning We Need a Little Christmas and the big band sound is also fun to play. 

"...For we need a little music, need a little laughter
Need a little singing ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy, happy ever after
We need a little Christmas now..."

And there you have it. I'm fulfilling our family Christmas song requests, I keep learning from fantastic drummers, and we're all digging those Christmas beats. I hope you are, too. 

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.