The Greatest Return on Fatherhood and the Future

It was one of those moments that perfectly represented family love, pride, empathy, and vulnerability in a very public way. It was also yet another polarizing moment that the haters immediately hated because it was from the other side, about the other side, glorifying the other side. Of course, I'm talking about the moment when Gus Walz, the Democratic VP nominee Tim Walz's son, stood and cheered on his dad, crying with pride and love, at the Democratic National Convention. "That's my dad!" he said.

Never mind the fact that Gus has a learning disorder, which does make the hate even more disgusting. Here is a moment representing a healthy love between a son and his father, and while seemingly celebrated by most, it's denigrated by too many others.

But it's not simply a Democrat versus Republican thing. It's a pervasive toxic masculinity thing. A powerful patriarchy kept in business for thousands of years (men in charge). One that continues to prevent empathy, respect, and unconditional love from blossoming between sons and daughters and their fathers and mothers. One that continues to marginalize and endanger women, people of color, and LGBTQIA+ communities. 

God, I'm tired of being outraged by extremist outrage of any ideology, especially those who embrace the diminishing hate of "men in power" that has turned people against each other and their own best interests for millennia. Unfortunately, I had two horrible male role models as "fathers" when I was younger. Two men who had been socialized in the above hate. They were my birth father and my first stepfather. Both were abusive, and one was an alcoholic, and the other mentally ill. It wasn't until my second stepfather, the one whose name my sister and I eventually took, did I experience an empathic and loving father. One who wasn't afraid to cry. He was clear about rules and boundaries when needed, especially with my sister and I in our teens, but he always led with love and empathy. These qualities are also what made him a respected police officer for 32 years.

When I was sworn in as a local school board member nearly two years ago, I was filled with pride and love when my daughters and wife cheered me on in the front row. Later, they all asked me if I cried, because they all know that Dad is a crier. An unabashed and unapologetic crier. However, I am clear about rules and boundaries when I need to be, especially now with teens in tow. I'm the gruff "no" and "don't do that" dad, and I'm constantly reminded of that.

But I'm also the empathic, loving, willing to be vulnerable dad. One who only cares about teaching and empowering our children to be healthy, resilient, empathetic, respectful, and grateful human beings. This is the greatest return on fatherhood and the future. It's not easy to sustain, though. Sometimes I still fall prey to judging others and the haters gonna hate trap, which both our kids call me out on. 

I've learned a lot over the years about being a "man", a husband, and a father -- not always getting it right, but always working on it -- and I hope our children will always be willing to proudly call out, "That's my dad!" 

That Safe Space

They were not looking forward to it, their first day back to school. That's not unusual for any teen pre- or post-covid, although there's been more collective angst since. Social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, homework, and more are all pile-ons for teens, and our youngest Bryce is now an 8th grader and our oldest Beatrice a sophomore in high school. 

It was an internal emotional hurricane for both our kids those first two days of school, but then came the eye of the storm in the first full week of school, and both settled in nicely. Ultimately they both do enjoy learning, and seeing their friends, and getting back into the atmospheric rivers of adolescent rhythms, always with storm-fronts in view. They got themselves organized, though, and are ready to go. Plus, we're super happy they're back in school!

Bryce attended a marine science camp and took guitar lessons over the summer and is ready to get back into choir and theater again. Beatrice had her first paid job as a camp counselor over the summer and volunteered as what's called Link Leader, sophomore, junior, and senior students willing to help incoming freshmen get acclimated to the big high school sea change prior to day one. She's also going to try out theater this fall for the high school production. 

Oh my goodness, they're both about to have birthdays, too! Bryce will turn 14 and Beatrice 16. Mercy me, the time does fly as we were told from the very beginning of this parenting journey. I told my wife Amy on our hike today that, while it does go fast, we are so grateful to have been mindfully present for most of the moments our children have spent on this earth since birth. Entrenched in our hearts and minds have been the moments of every physical action and reaction, and every multi-faceted emotional interaction. Some have more loving clarity than others, and there are those we would prefer not to recall, but we are grateful for them all.

Sigh. Lots more moments to come to be present for, and now they're back to school again, amen. And the homework, especially in high school, is already piling on, just like all the social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, and more in teenage-land today. As parents, we do our best to help them balance all these stressors, but we can't do it for them, or go through it for them, no matter how much our empathy magnets polarize to pull them in to calm them, keep them safe, and to tell them everything's going to be okay. 

All we can do is give them the growing up strategies and tactics that we learned to adopt and implement over time. Some of that came from our own parents, but in the end we had to go through it all to make mistakes, learn, grow, and ultimately thrive. Just like our teens will have to do today, and the next day, and the next. As my mom always told me, you have to go through it, not around it. As parents, we can be that safe space for them when then do.

We Can Do It

The 2024 Wharf to Wharf 10K race had started and our group number finally was able to move. As we got closer to the Beach Boardwalk arcade building, I noticed two police officers on the roof. One of them had what looked like a high-powered sniper rifle (never in America; now in America). Both were scanning the diverse 16,000 participants from the Santa Cruz area and beyond, serious racers to friends and family enjoying this annual community event, all of whom would run and walk from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk to the Capitola Wharf. My wife Amy and I, and many others, saw the rifle clearly on its stand right above the roofline.

I scanned the roof of the restaurants across the street from the arcade, and there were two more officers, one with another sniper rifle on its stand. After all the Wharf to Wharf's we've done over the years, I don't remember ever seeing officers on the roofs above us. They might've been there and I just never looked up, but I don't think so. I mean, every year there is plenty of police presence along the over six miles of race route to ensure safety since we're walking and running along city streets. But it felt different this year. 

If there were other snipers along the race route, we didn't see them, and frankly, didn't want to see them. This was a depressing sign of the times, where the threat of potentially random violence feels like it's everywhere, even though violent crime is actually down. We live in a moderate-to-liberal community ideologically and politically, but there are still vocal extremes everywhere. 

So, whether or not local law enforcement had received threats to the race, we may never know, but it was unsettling nonetheless. The ideological and political extremists today thrive on divisiveness and hate that threatens to crater the middle of the road for us all. In fact, fringe violence has left more and more pot holes of fear faster than we can fill them, but fill them we must. What compounds this is that too many of us are too quick to fuel the fear and hate when we judge and tear each other down for being different, and when we don't see eye to eye on issues that affect us all. In front of our own children, God, and everyone. We revel in it, actually. Amy and I have been guilty of that ourselves, and our children called us out on it every time. 

Amy and I finished the race without incident and headed home, exhausted but exhilarated that we finished another Wharf to Wharf. Throughout the race I kept thinking about the police snipers keeping watch, and the majority of us walking and running in the race in the middle of the road, celebrating community and enjoying the live bands playing along the route. The race promotes the health and fitness of the youth of Santa Cruz (our schools). For those physically able to participate, it's also all about the joy of feeling alive and active, a vibrant mindfulness of empathy and love for oneself, and for the thousands of others across generations with a variety of backgrounds and beliefs. And along the entire route, locals cheered us on with "you can do it" signs.

That's a more relevant theme that extends beyond this fun annual race. Our family, and I'd argue the majority of families in communities big and small across ideologies, do not want to live in fear and loathing, or continue to enable the hateful disabling rhetoric, and will do everything we can to be stable, safe, and thrive. And to empower our children to do the same. 

We can do it. And we will do it. We have to do it. Our children are counting on us.