Never Be Remiss About Missing Out

I didn't realize it was national competition. I only thought it was a local choral festival we were going to. It's probably better that I didn't know, since I agreed to play the drums on one of the songs for the middle school advanced (gold) choir that our youngest Bryce is part of. The song was Nanuma, a traditional greeting song from Ghana. 

It's a fairly simple repetitive beat, a welcoming pattern, which made sense since it is a greeting song. I practiced it for over a month along with my usual drum regimen nearly every night I was at home and not traveling for work. 

Halfway through that month, the choir teacher sent me an email that she had another person to drum, someone who was going to do it in the first place, so I was off the hook. Now, I could've just let it be at that point, and walked away from it. I've had enough work stress of late, so why would I want to stress about performing in front of people for the first time, including both my children, Bryce and Beatrice. Both were supportive, although Bryce might have been kind of mixed about it in the first place. Supportive, but mixed. I mean, I am Dad, and they are teen, so there's that. 

But I didn't walk away. I wrote the choir teacher back and said I'd been practicing and really wanted to do it. She replied excitedly that I should still do it; she thought I'd want to back out. Both my wife Amy and I would also help chaperone the choir event, because after the performance all the kids were going to the Great America amusement park. 

The morning we left for the choir festival, I had to pick out an acoustic tom drum, stand, and sticks from the choir/band room at school to bring with me. I play an electronic kit at home and have never really played acoustic. Acoustics are much louder and the feel is different, even though I have mesh heads at home, which have a give feel like acoustics. 

We all rode the bus to the choral performance, then came the performance itself. I set up my drum and then stood poised sticks in had. The choir took to the risers. The choir teacher hit the piano key for pitch, started waving her hands in the beat count, looked at me, and I started the song. In retrospect, I wasn't actually nervous to perform, just more nervous about being too loud. As the choir sang the lovely greeting song Nanuma, I drummed lightly until the very end when I drove it home. 

And then it was over. Less than three minutes of song overall. It wasn't a big audience, but here were family and friends and another choir in the room waiting. After I was done I sat and listened to the other two songs Bryce's choir sang, which were wonderful. In fact, our middle school choir won gold in the top 10% of schools participating at the Forum Music Festival! 

Not because of my drumming, of course, but I was still proud to be a part of it (and couldn't wait to share with my drum teacher!). Nope, you're never too old to learn new things. Never. We encourage our teens to try new things, to overcome any anxiety about trying new things, and continue to develop the new things they end up enjoying, maybe even loving, like sports, theater, art, music, and more. Just like they're doing now, with theater winning the hearts and minds of both kids (more on that soon). We never want them to be remiss about missing out. 

Imagine That

"...You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one..."

–John Lennon, Imagine

At first, we couldn't find Strawberry Fields, a five-acre landscape in Central Park dedicated to the legacy of John Lennon. Our maps application guided us near it, but not to it directly. Finally after asking a nice woman walking her dog where it was, we found it. 

This chilly spring walk through Central Park was one of the last things we did in New York during our spring break family vacation. When we found the "Imagine" memorial, there was a group of people taking selfies with it, and many others sitting and milling about the memorial, listening to a man singing Beatles songs and playing a guitar. It was lovely really. Cold, but lovely. 

We were very grateful we could again take our family on a trip like this. Our teens, Beatrice and Bryce, really wanted to come to New York again, picking out our first Broadway show Wicked to see. We again visited the 9/11 Memorial, the American Museum of Natural History, the Met, the Empire State Building, and many other NYC sites. Beatrice also helped to pick out yummy places for us to eat. The weather turned cold, rainy, and windy while we were there, but that didn't slow us down. We took the bus in and out of the city from where we stayed across the Hudson River in New Jersey. We took the subway safely to many places throughout Manhattan, and we walked the streets of New York for over 35 miles over 5 days. All the people and the hustle and bustle of NYC did not disappoint. 

As we sat and listened to the musician play Beatles songs in front of the John Lennon memorial, I reflected on one major difference in this family trip than all the others we'd been on to date: we talked with our children about many adult things. They prompted the conversations, too. Ideological. Political. Spiritual. Current events and more. It wasn't the first time we've had these conversations when they're adulting with us, but it was the first time I truly saw them as the young adults they're becoming, with more clarity than ever. 

Everything that John Lennon represented (and still represents) -- peace, love, empathy, acceptance, and especially social activism -- I see in our children (and us), which was why our adulting conversations this time were so awakening for me. His ideology isn't for everyone, but it is for those of us who want a more loving and empathic world, and we look forward to our children helping to de-polarize the dark conduits of hate today. 

Imagine that. We most certainly can. 

Let's Dance!

In a world on fire full of crazy hate, it was fun to watch high school students and teachers dance like no one was watching. But there lots of people watching -- a high school gym full parents, students, teachers, and administrators who cheered on the dancers for the "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition. We never watched the Dancing with the Stars show on TV, but we used to love So You Think You Can Dance. 

I remember when I was in high school when some of us would do funny skits during assemblies that sometime involved other teachers and even parents. 

Like the time I stood in the gym in nothing but a towel wrapped around me (I had shorts on underneath) with a few more of my football team. We were blindfolded and we were supposed to guess which girl was giving us a kiss on the cheek (or something like that). I don't remember all the context during the assembly, but that's what we did. However, the twist was our mothers were the ones who kissed us on our cheeks, and a gym full of students, teachers, and administrators got quite a kick out of it. 

There were many other fun times like these when I was in high school, but this dance show at our daughter's high school was next level. Our daughter Beatrice wasn't dancing, but she was there with her friends cheering on the competitors, including her favorite math teacher. It was only the second year of this competition, and the dance teacher who organized was another favorite teacher of Beatrice's. 

My wife Amy and I hadn't had that much fun on a Friday night since our date nights of old, pre-kids. Watching the high school "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition filled me with pride and nostalgia. Teachers or another student were paired with dance students who choreographed the dances to movie soundtrack songs from Barbie, Mama Mia, Teen Beach, Singin' in the Rain, and many others, including Star Wars. Yes, Star Wars. I wanted to get up and dance with a lightsaber, too. A student, a school administrator (who won last year), a professional dancer and choreographer, and our city mayor made up the judges. 

What was the most inspiring for us, though, was all the dancers' willingness to be vulnerable for the sake of fun and entertainment, for trying something new. No one was making fun of anyone as far as we were concerned. The packed gym was cheering on all the dancers regardless of their skill level, and some of them were pretty darn good. Most of the dancing pairs only had a few days to pull together a routine, too. Amy and I used to take dance lessons and love to dust off our moves sometimes, so this got our boogie shoes tapping. In the immortal words of Kevin Bacon's character in Footloose, "Let's Dance!"

Adulting With Us

When they were kids, we could do no wrong. We knew that wasn't true, but our kids didn't call us out on our mistakes and those poor parenting moments. 

Like cursing at other people doing dumb things in their cars while we drove near them, next to them, across from them, anywhere around them. That's me. One time in particular that has since become a family inside joke was when we were turning left on a green light. Before I could turn, I had to wait for the oncoming traffic to cross. Behind me was a guy obviously angry because he was stuck behind me until I could turn. He honked and then zoomed around us heading straight just as we were able to turn left. He mouthed something at us and that's when I flipped, cursing at him and flipping him off. He was driving a work car with some solar company name on the side. 

Mom and kids were a little taken aback. "Dad!" the kids called out. Thankfully my road-rage breakdown was short-lived, and the ongoing inside joke became "there's that 'solar guy' again following us." 

That was a couple of years ago. Now that both our kids are true teens, we find them pointing out our mistakes and shortcomings. All. The. Time. 

And that reminds me of when I used to do that with my own parents. My dad usually took it in stride, but my mom would sometimes tell me I was being disrespectful. But more often than not, she'd admit she'd made a mistake, especially as I got older and became a young adult. 

My wife Amy listened to a great podcast recently. An interview with Lisa Damour, PhD, author of The Emotional Lives of Teenagers. She shared it with me and I gobbled it up. As I listened, I could feel myself nodding and saying out loud, "Yes, and that, and that, and that." 

So many take aways for me, for us, and when Lisa said, "They have phenomenal acuity for the shortcomings of adults," I thought, Yes, I did then, and they do now. 

Just the other day I heard it over and over again about how triggered I get about other drivers when I'm driving and even more so when I'm not. How "judgey" I am on the road. They're not wrong either. 

However, it can hurt when we're called out by our teens about our own mistakes, mistakes we should do better owning, even when their feedback is as direct and unfiltered as it is. Thankfully they're not crossing the rubicon of intentionally trying to hurt us or sabotage us. If they were intentionally trying to hurt us, then that's a whole other ballgame of issues to deal with. 

Ours aren't, and most of the time we don't take it personally. Our teens are all up and down emotion while they individuate and find their own identities and voices, just like we did when we were their age. They model our good and call out our bad. This is also their way of adulting with us, adults they love and trust, and so their helping make us better people is a win in the raising teens column. 

To Make The Shine Glow On

"I just got lost

Every river that I tried to cross

Every door I ever tried was locked

Oh, and I'm just waitin' 'til the shine wears off..."

–Coldplay, Lost!

At first, her painting felt sad and lonely. But she actually painted it at a time when she felt good about her young life, all that was happening in it, and what might happen next.

She was very proud of her work. Is proud of it. Our oldest Beatrice is quite the talented artist and we're proud of her and her work. 

Both our kids are quite the artists actually. Are quite the intuitive feelers. This is evident as they grapple with new life and learning and frontal lobes developing in front of their very eyes. Or, more correctly, in back of their very eyes.

Whether Bea intended it or not, there is a melancholy feel in the painting. The dark forest behind her. The shadow of herself in the pond that's not a true reflection, only dark shadow. It's reminds me of the line from a Coldplay song: "Oh, and I'm just waitin' 'til the shine wears off." Waiting for the good things to fade away, leaving only darkness it it's wake.

But that's me projecting my own life experience into my interpretation of my 15-year-old's painting. It doesn't mean that teens don't have ups and downs and dark deep thoughts -- they do. Not the same life experiences as us their parents, but we're also not dismissive of their angst and encourage them to talk about all their feelings. 

What I love is that the question in her painting was actually a statement: What NOW. With NOW being all caps. Like it's a challenge to what will happen next, what life will bring. Again, I'm projecting my own interpretation here, but I feel it's close.

That's a bold statement as far as I'm concerned, but demanding the "what" to manifest itself this very second is normal instant gratification longing that both teens and adults feel. Making something positive happen is another story altogether. Too many of us wait for the "shine to wear off", because that's what we expect to happen ultimately, if we feel we've been let down before by others and/or circumstances; it's always someone else's or something else's fault. This is all emotionally hard for developing teens to comprehend, but it's especially difficult for adults who never knew how to deal with adversity in the first place. 

Encouraging our kids to experience and feel all the feels, to be able to express them verbally and non-verbally (like through art), and then to work on manifesting what's next will serve them well throughout their lives. We don't want them to wait for the next bad thing to happen. We want them to make the next good thing happen for themselves today -- to make the shine glow on. 

Getting It All Done

I sat at my desk working on algebra homework after school. I was in junior high at the time and loved math, did very well in math, but didn't always love all the homework (of any subject). What teenager does? True, I always felt like I had accomplished something important in finishing the homework and studying for quizzes and tests when I had them, no matter how long it took. And the reward was in understanding what I was learning, and of course, good grades. 

What made it all more palatable during the homework time was the music I'd listen to. I put in an 8-track tape of Aerosmith, Kansas, Journey, or another rock band of the time (this was a few years before I became the Rush fan I still am today). Yes, 8-track tapes. I had those along with cassettes and record albums. 

Not really the best study music, and definitely not reading music (I did turn off the music when I was just reading), I still enjoyed my rock and roll with math, history, science, and other subjects throughout junior and high school. 

Yes, my parents would ask me every day if I had homework, and remind me to do said homework, and I got it done, with or without my music. The deeper into high school I got the later I would stay up, although that wasn't always the best time to study and finish homework. I had to because playing sports and other extracurricular activities ate up my after school time, especially in the fall when I played football. But I got it done. It's always a beautiful mess in progress. 

For our own children today, we've impressed upon them good study habits and the autonomy to get their homework done and study for tests. We do ask them if they have homework every day, and they can get stressed about getting their work done, but most of the time their own developing work ethic keeps them on task. Also, they both love their own music sometimes when they're doing their homework. Our middle schooler Bryce is a night owl and will work after dinner and late sometimes, and our high schooler Beatrice likes to be fresh in the morning before school, or to do if before dinner if there's time. No matter when and where, they're doing the work. 

We help our kids when they have questions about their schoolwork, or at least try to help them. Some of these subjects we haven't studied for decades, and the curriculums have certainly evolved over time. We've found that, if we can't help them, even if we look up the subjects online for refreshers, having them attempt to explain to us what they're trying to learn actually helps them find the answers we can't help them with. And in their explaining, we follow along a little bit better and learn something ourselves. My goodness, I had AP calculus in high school, and I have no idea about the math they're doing today. Mom is also more patient than me, and the usual go-to; I'm like the substitute teacher that way. 

In the end, our kids are getting it all done with their unique strengths and struggles, and in their own unique autonomous ways, with great grades to show for it and we couldn't be prouder. Even with a little teen whining along the way. Or a lot. 

Driving Straight

In the next year, our oldest child might be getting her driver's license. Mercy me. I have to believe every parent is excited about this prospect because the days and nights of being the family Uber driver will become fewer and farther in between. Every parent is also full of trepidation about their children driving around with all the craziness on the roads, higher insurance rates, and the fear of accidents and injuries. And God forbid they ever drive under the influence of anything and risk everything. 

Driving aside, which will definitely be the subject future articles once Beatrice does start driving, this is also about her getting an official California ID. Both our daughters already have passports, which we got for family travel, but soon she'll have driver's license, and at some point, Bryce will as well. And even if they don't drive, they'll have a California issued ID. 

Legitimate IDs are important for sure, and when we're adults we'll need them for getting jobs, to applying for loans, to voting, to buying alcohol and other legal drugs, to nearly everything. For buying alcohol and other legal drugs, you have to be of the legal age to do so. Unless you have a fake ID.

Back in my day, and my wife's day, fake IDs weren't easy to come by and weren't very good either, like all the cheesy 1980's teen movies we loved back then. I had friends in college who had fake IDs, but never in high school (that I was aware of). My dad could've spoken to this much better than I being a forgery and fraud detective in the 1980's. 

But today it's supposedly very easy to get a fake ID online. For $50-$150 you can get two to three fake IDs on sites such as this one. I don't really want to advertise these sites, but it's real and teens have access to them. 

In California, you still have to be 21 years old to purchase alcohol and marijuana products, but if fake IDs are that good, then it doesn't matter how young you look using one. For those who are 18-20 years old, marijuana is still illegal in California unless you have a current qualifying physician’s recommendation or a valid county-issued medical marijuana identification card. I've also read those are easier to get than you think. 

So, combine that with fake IDs and cannabis dispensary access within walking distance from high schools, and that's a potentially major health risk for our kids. The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has shared evidence of the mental health impacts of marijuana usage among teens that include harmful impacts on brain and cognitive development, addiction, higher risk for marijuana-induced psychosis, and suicidal ideation. Not to mention the detrimental effects of alcohol on teen brains. Plus, we need store owners and employees that are vigilant to identifying and reporting flake IDs.

As adults, our grown children may choose to drink alcohol and/or use marijuana, and that's fine, as long as it's legal and they do it safely and not drive under the influence. Or, they'll choose not to, which is probably even better. And yes, there are parents of teens who do consume both as adults, but hopefully aren't making it okay for their kids. 

Teen consumption is more complex and dangerous than ever, and as parents, we need to be aware of how easy it is to get fake IDs and what they can do with them. Access shouldn't as easy as walking to the corner store or dispensary with a fake ID. The legal ramifications and the physical and mental health damage for teens that occur when using and abusing alcohol and cannabis should inspire us to be better parents and talk to our kids about all of this. 

We want our children to drive someday. Of course, we do. With legal IDs. That will be super helpful to us, especially when they're driving straight, and not under the influence (of peer pressure, alcohol, marijuana, the list goes on and on). 

The Beat of BhivePowered Drums

After decades of thinking about playing the drums, and with only a few short-lived runs at starting to play but never following through, I finally picked up the drumsticks for good shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown started. That was nearly four years ago now, and since then, I’ve practiced for over 1,000 hours, averaging about 5 hours per week, usually playing after dinner. When I travel, I bring my practice pad with me and try to bang out some rudiments. 

In addition to practicing rudiments and taking various lessons, I’ve also had fun learning to play many songs I grew up with and loved (and still love), nearly 120 songs to date. I get to 80%-85%% proficiency, record myself playing, and then move on to another song, always learning two songs simultaneously. Early on I couldn’t always get the entire song down, but now I can. 

No, I’m not starting a band anytime soon, but the point of all this ongoing practice is to improve and sustain my drumming performance. Hitting 100% isn’t easy, but consistency in proficiency is key. I’m also always adding wrinkles to my rudiments, the lessons I’m learning, and periodically getting feedback and lessons from a professional session drummer. 

I’ve been beating a similar drum for our teens recently, getting them to understand that it's never too late to try something new and see if it lands on the right heartbeat for them. Especially now, this is the time for them to explore what moves them the most (and they should do this throughout life). Both my wife Amy and I tell them that they should never be afraid to give something new a go. Our youngest Bryce gave theater a go and loves it. But even if Bryce hadn't liked it, they really put themselves out there during the very first audition, which is always a super-big deal. Our oldest Beatrice has given lacrosse, track, and now theater a go, and we'll see what she really enjoys and wants to continue the most. Although art is her true love and that is definitely something she continues to invest in.

The key is the heartfelt enjoyment our kids get from whatever those endeavors, hobbies, activities are that they try. The world is cutthroat competitive enough, and while our teens will still need to put in the work to learn and grow in whatever they aspire to do, they've got to have fun, too. When I coached both our kids in soccer for years, that was always my mantra. Learn new skills, embrace teamwork when applicable, and have fun. Always. Have. Fun. That's the beat of BhivePowered Drums. 

To Never Forget The Kids

We were almost home when I realized I'd forgotten our oldest daughter Beatrice. In my defense, she had been hanging out with friends after school of late, so I didn't think about her. Not even our youngest daughter Bryce asked about Beatrice, assuming the same.

But it was Bea's short day in high school, when she gets out about the same time Bryce does in middle school. That's when Beatrice will walk over to the middle school and I get them both, unless they have other after school activities (theater and sports now), or they're seeing friends, or they want to walk, or their riding bikes, or whatever. That part I'd forgotten, that I'd get them together on Mondays after school. 

Why I'd forgotten, I don't know, because our pattern doesn't vary much. Most of the time, my wife Amy takes the girls to school, and I pick them up after school, again, depending on their plans (except when I'm traveling for work). Always the back and forth everywhere, all the time, until Beatrice starts to drive, but that's still probably two years away.

Maybe I had a lot on my mind, who knows. So, that Monday when Bryce and I were nearly home, we get a text from Beatrice: "When do you want me to go to the car?"

Bryce read it out loud. "We forgot Bea."

Crap, I thought. "Subpar," I said. "We're nearly home. Let me drop you and then I'll go back to get her."

"No, let's just go get her," Bryce said, texting her back that we were on our way now.

The good news is that both schools are only about two miles from where we live. I backtracked to get her, thinking she was at the middle school where she would usually go on Mondays. The part I had forgotten. But, part of her text was that she was still in a teacher's room at school, and both Bryce and I thought that meant at the high school. 

We were nearly to the middle school and that's when we turned around and went to the high school. Not realizing until after further texts from Bea that was actually at the middle school, where she was supposed to go in the first place. So, after reaching the high school, we turned around again and headed to the middle School.

It became a "who's on first" Abbott and Costello comedy routine, as well as a Home Alone parody. I'd forgotten to get Beatrice when I picked up Bryce, and then it became a comedic puzzle for Bryce and me to figure out exactly where Beatrice was. Thankfully she forgave us and got a kick out of it when I slapped the palms of my hands to my cheeks and yelled "Kevin!" (Home Alone is one of her favorites). I have more sympathy for the McCallister family now, considering I had always sworn to never forget the kids, no matter how much is on my mind. And this time I did. Mercy me.

We Can Curb the Egg Slinging

We egged his house and he wasn't even home. His parents weren't home either. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway, caught up in the stupidity of teenage groupthink. One night at dusk when I was 16 years old, I drove my El Camino with friends in the back, while another friend drove his truck with other friends in the back, and we raced by another supposed friend's house and threw two dozen eggs at his house. As we drove by, the neighbors across the street, people who knew who we were because their daughter went to school with us, said to each other, "Wow, there goes Kevin and his friends."

When my egged friend's parents got home, they called the police and the neighbor witnesses gave us up. When I got home later that night, a police officer was waiting outside our house to question me about the egging. My parents and sister were most likely asleep, and so I denied the egging. The officer, who already had eye-witness testimony, pressed me further, even threatening to wake up my father to get me to confess. My father at the time was a long-time police officer himself, so I definitely confessed after that. 

The part that was the most devastating for me was when we all agreed to meet with my egged friend's parents and both my parents came. My egged friend wasn't there because his parents wanted to know why we did what we did, especially since we'd all been supposed friends for years. They were visibly hurt, especially his mom, and I could barely look her in the eyes. I could barely look my own parents in the eyes because their disappointment and hurt were unbearable as well. 

Not all the guys who participated in the egging agreed to come to the meeting, but what was even more uncomfortable for me were some of the guys whose toxic fathers came. They mocked the meeting and laughed at the vulnerability of my egged friend's parents, just saying basically that boys will be boys and it wasn't that big of a deal. That we were just teasing. 

But we weren't just teasing, and I knew it even before the first egg was thrown. I knew it even more painfully when I was one of two of us who agreed to scrub the eggs off his house, and it was excruciating when I faced the friend I'd egged and apologized to him. I knew what we did wasn't teasing. Teasing is supposed to be playful, friendly, and even sometimes affectionate, without intending to harm or demean. It's a way of socializing and bonding within a group. This wasn't that. 

And even if I didn't intend to bully, I participated in the bullying. Bullying is deliberately attempting to hurt, harm, or humiliate others. The impact of bullying is well-documented and can cause physical, emotional, or psychological distress. The targets of bullying often feel threatened, frightened, and/or humiliated. 

Today, with the reach and impact of social media and the dark side of artificial intelligence, cyberbullying is even more prevalent and can be way more devastating than egging someone's house. It's even worse because the reach is greater, the perpetrators are usually anonymous, and the algorithms themselves are smarter than ever, serving up more and more relevant crap -- throwing more and more literally rotten eggs -- that can make us feel like the very crap it's serving up, especially to our children and teens. Plus, we worry because more teen girls are the targets of fake nudes and fake pornography today, which is horrific. 

Thankfully, our teen girls haven't been bullies themselves, nor have they been bullied to date, online or in person. We monitor their social media usage as much as we can, talking with them about what they're watching, the impacts of all that, and encouraging them to limit their time online. We've empowered them to make good decisions, which we know they'll miss making sometimes, but they're doing pretty good overall so far, and we're never afraid to talk about anything and everything with them. My wife Amy always channels Kidpower by living these words: "The safety and well-being of ourselves and those in our care are more important than anyone's embarrassment, inconvenience, or offense."

Congress recently grilled social media leaders about the negative impacts of their platforms, with many families in the audience holding up pictures of the children they've lost because of those negative impacts. While we wait for actual federal legislative action that could make help difference, and sadly may never come, it's up to parents and families everywhere to make the difference. In fact, it's always been up to us. Virtually and organically, there will be bullying, and yet we can work on bullying prevention from a very early age into adulthood with our own kids, and then they can do the same for their kids. We can curb the egg slinging. 

Like Kids All Over Again

It's like we have little kids all over again. I mean, we've already had many different dog toys upstairs and downstairs for our dog Jenny since we adopted her four years ago. But now with our new cat, Winston, there's crap everywhere. 

Literally crap. Because one of the big differences between cats and dogs is that with cats, you don't have to buy a bunch of expensive cat toys. You can simply give them paper bags, ripped paper, twisty ties, water bottle caps, strings, and so much more, and they will go bananas playing with them all. In fact, Winston is especially fond of twisty ties. Jenny, not so much. She sticks to her favorite stuffy toys like squirrel, turkey, red bone, blue bone, clam, and candy cane. 

Jenny won't play with Winston's trash toys, but Winston will play with Jenny's stuffys, and that sometimes doesn't play well with Jenny. It's like watching an old Warner Brothers cartoon with Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog clocking in for work, with Ralph trying to capture sheep, and Sam thwarting Ralph at every turn. 

Jenny will chase Winston and bark at him when she wants to put him in his place, but most of the time they get along. And like a little kid, Winston is all over the place -- he's up on shelves, the table, the counters, the kitchen sink. Everywhere; literally the kitchen sink. I just caught him trying to climb one of our window screens again, too. 

Sigh. The grand parenting positive irony here is that our teen kids, Beatrice and Bryce, are relatively neat, keeping their rooms clean, especially Bryce, which we're grateful for (we've taught them well). And Bryce is the one taking care of Winston, at least when they're not at school, cleaning his litter box and making sure he's fed. Part of her allowance comes from keeping both Winston and Jenny fed and ensuring they have fresh water. 

However, we warned Bryce that the cat would keep them up at night, and sure enough, that's what happened. So, now Bryce shoves him outside at night, along with his litter box into the upstairs hallway, and the cat is a free range roamer in the wee hours of the morning. Beatrice is relatively safe all around, because Jenny always sleeps with us, and she's easy, and we close the door to our sun room that leads to Bea's room, so Winston can't get in there and cause a ruckus. Another irony here: we wake up to relative calm and no destruction that we can see. It's only after we're with Winston when he bounces off the walls. 

Plus, when both our kids are at school, we work from home, and it's a battle of wits and wills to keep our friggin' cat as chilled out as possible so we can work. Which is impossible, because he's a cat, and he's everywhere all at once, until he naps. Not quite a kitten anymore, but definitely a young, curious, meddling cat. This morning while my wife Amy and I meditated, I could hear Winston in the kitchen sink rattling dishes looking for food, which he won't find since we now keep our kitchen cleaner than ever, and we always kept it clean pre-cat. 

Squirt bottles and cat treats help, but mercy me, Winston's a handful. A lovingly sweet handful, like a young grandson climbing up the counter to get into the cookie jar. Thankfully his big sister, Jenny, keeps him in line sometimes, but most of the time is entertained (and annoyed) like the rest of us. And she's especially excited when Winston spills his food bowl on the floor so she can get her share of cat eats. Or, cat poop if we don't keep the litter box clean. Gross!

Reminds me of the quote from Ghostbusters, “Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!” Yep, just like kids all over again.

Produce Better Humans And Fewer Bullies

Even though I was a skinny, asthmatic kid, I was damn good at the game. I was always one of the last to go out, and along the way I'd take out many on the other side. I wasn't a bully (but relished taking the bullies out), but enjoyed the game, which I aways thought about as solely a survival-of-the-fittest game, because ultimately only one could remain standing in the end. 

And because I was a skinny, asthmatic kid, I was targeted a lot in the game, but I became pretty good at surviving, being agile enough to hop around my zone. We also played a variant of the game we called nation ball where it was double the targeting action. What I didn't realize then in my childhood mind was that dodgeball, and nation ball, were nothing more than sanctioned bullying where even bystanders could be hurt. 

In fact, in the decades since grade school for me and all the times we played dodgeball, I never really thought much about it, until our youngest Bryce got hit in the head with a ball and ended up with a mild concussion. And she wasn't even playing. Just sitting off to the side talking with friends. Most likely it was an accident, but we'll never know if she was hit on purpose or not. 

This was during middle school physical education class and both our kids had mentioned that sometimes they play dodgeball when there's time to fill during a class. Until we asked our school principal and superintendent about it, we didn't know it had thankfully already been banned from our school district (and many school districts across the country) and was no longer sanctioned to be played. Our district’s comprehensive school safety plan includes a policy consistent with the prohibition against discrimination, harassment, intimidation, and bullying pursuant to Education Code 200-262.4, and that includes not playing dodgeball. There have been multiple lawsuits about this game, too. 

Dodgeball was just something our middle school PE teachers let the kids play sometimes, unsupervised mostly. That's dangerous and thankfully that will end now. If you're not familiar, here are the rules of dodgeball according to USA Dodgeball: 

GAME OBJECTIVE/POINT SCORING

• In order to win a game, a team must eliminate the entire opposing team within the time limit.
• Each team forms an Attack Line
• Each person eliminated is called a Kill

Eliminate. Attack Line. Kill. Think about that -- those are the literal words used in the dodgeball rules. The reality is that the human is the target in dodgeball. It is solely about the strong targeting the weak to take them out. It might be fun for adults who are good at it, and those who watched the comedy from 2004 called Dodgeball, but for kids in grade school, middle school, and even high school, there are no redeeming qualities of the game. Again, I never thought about it until our daughter was hit in the head with the ball and received a mild concussion, and she wasn't even playing, just sitting off to the side. 

Being a Gen Xer, I've laughed at my share of social media memes that say things like "we never wore bike helmets in our day, and we turned out okay." Ha. We subscribed to Friedrich Nietzsche's quote, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger." But when we played games like dodgeball in school, and when we were good at it like I was, we didn't think about the impact on weaker players who never wanted to play and were always targeted. Talk with anyone who was pummeled with those red rubber balls, sometimes mercilessly, and the negative memories are painful. 

I never considered myself a bully, but I definitely know now that there was never any team building or character building in dodgeball, only enabled systemic bullying that instilled fear and anxiety in those being pummeled. Survival of the bulliest. Thank goodness our school district had already banned it from sanctioned play, and now unsanctioned play. There are plenty of other positive team-building sports and physical activities that schools engage in today, activities that can help produce better humans and fewer bullies. 

Men of a Stand-up Age

When my lovely wife texted me some pictures from the disco party she was at, I smiled. Not just because they included her, who I missed, but because of the picture of our oldest daughter Beatrice and one of her best friends for many years since grade school. Now high school teens, the picture was cute and fun, a refreshing sweetness to see while I was away. This being just one friendship of many she maintains.

Our younger daughter, Bryce, is officially a teen herself, and like her sister, has her own established close friendships. Both girls hang out more with their friends after school and on weekends, spending less time at home than ever before. 

While these changes are bittersweet, our kids no longer kids, it brings an even bigger smile to my face when I see them with their friends. Their relationships are new, honest, and fragile; a multiverse of emotion and inside jokes and laughter, each of them grappling with the overwhelming adolescent changes that become the DNA of their adulthood. Only time will tell if they remain friends over the decades, but there's always that chance. 

For anyone who's had friends for decades, it certainly is a blessing, especially for men who tend to not fare as well as women in the long-term friendship department. In 7th grade I met Robby, a tall and thin boy who befriended me and gave me a cassette tape of two Cheap Trick albums (Heaven Tonight and Live at Budokan), recorded on a discount-bin Thrifty Drug Store cassette mind you, and our rock and roll best friendship was born. I'd love to say I still have that cassette tape, but alas, I don't, just the wonderful memory of when our friendship began.

Then in high school came many new (mutual) friendships, including Jeff, Rob, Greg, Charles, Craig, and many others. And then after right high school came Craig (connected to Robby and other high school friends) and Troy (meet in college). Not all the friendships I've had over the years have withstood the test that time and circumstance bring, but thankfully there are those that have. 

We do get together when we can each year, sometimes together and sometimes one-on-one, and this last time was a wonderful visit, complete with decades of inside jokes and comedy clips (SNL, etc.), lots of laughter, and yes, even serious banter about our lives. It's been decades of friendship. The stereotype of straight male friends isn't lost on us, which is why we thought the Saturday Night Live Straight Male Friend commercial skit was so funny (but a little edgy, so beware if you watch it). Thankfully we're not exactly that (and yet, sometimes we are). 

As I wrote last year in Men of a Vulnerable Age, men can go longer periods of time without talking or seeing each other, and don't necessarily thrive on intimacy and emotional connection as much as women do. But my friends and I have shared quite a bit of our lives (intimately and emotionally) with each other over the years. The good, the bad, the ugly, the meh -- and a whole lot of comedy and tears of laughter. 

Our relationships are a multiverse of life experience, love, and inside jokes. None of us are safe from each other. We relentlessly tease and "bust each other's chops" as the saying goes, and we bust our own chops as well. We're like veteran stand-up comedians heckling an audience of us. It may be perceived as a little harsh and over-the-top at times, and it's especially awkward when we're in mixed company and we see the reaction of others. But for us, it's at times raw, real, retrospective, and always full of love. We're men of a stand-up age, and we've stood by one another for 40+ years. I hope my daughters are as blessed today with their teen friends as I have been. 

Other past posts about and related to these friends of mine:

• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Endless Possibilities Actually
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984
• Men of An Unremarkable Age
• Being What Happens Next
• Daddy Day in Monterey

Like Night And Day

It was probably the last time for who knows how long, but it doesn't mean we won't ever go again. Oh, we'll go again, either just my wife Amy and I, or our kids will join us again, but the annual family treks may be over (for now at least). 

We love Disney. When Amy and I went to Disneyland as part of our honeymoon back in 2003, we had a fabulous time. I remember all the families around us with babies and very young children, and we said out loud, "Why would you bring such young ones there?"

But that was four years before we changed our own minds about having our own kids, and five years before we actually had our first daughter Beatrice in 2008. Less than two years later, our other daughter Bryce was born. 

After our kids turned three and five years old, we ate our own words and decided to take them to Disneyland in January of 2014. And we had a blast. Thank goodness for single-rider rides so Mom and me could ride the big-kid rides. Ever since, we've gone nearly every year, except for 2020 and early 2021 due to the pandemic, having many family adventures with related reflections along the way in 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2021, 2023, and now this year in 2024. If we lived closer to LA, then we would've had season passes, but alas, it's a six-hour drive for us. 

It's always a super-fun marathon for us. This year in the last few days of the kids' school winter break, we trekked in and around the Disneyland and California Adventure parks over eight miles a day for four days, staying up late (for us) for the fireworks and the water light show, traversing the crowds (there are always crowds), and having to listen to Christmas/holiday music over and over again two weeks after Christmas (ugh). The walking and standing were brutal on Mom and Dad's legs, hips, backs, and butts, but we still made it farther and longer than our own kids, who took the late afternoons off to hang out in hotel room. 

Our teens still enjoyed Disneyland this year, but because they wanted to take afternoon breaks, it was clear that the Disney magic had rusted over a bit for them, more for Beatrice than Bryce. Both their interests have changed and they're on their way to young adulthood now. Bittersweet for us; they'll always be our little ones ready to embrace Mickey, Minnie, and friends. We're so grateful we've been able to take them for all these years. 

But they're not our little ones anymore, something I'm obviously grappling with. When I look at this year's castle picture compared to the first one in 2014, it's like night and day, with the common horizon line being our family love of togetherness and fun. Will we ever go together again? Of course we will. The magic may be rusty, but it will always shine.