Celebrate the Safety of Everyone

Medieval Times reminded me of how we still like to be entertained by strong men and physical games. This was staged fighting, being a dinner show and faux tournament, and no one was purposely maimed or killed. But there was no mistaking physicality of the fighting and I'm sure the actors were exhausted after the show. 

After our high school choirs participated in a music festival, we went to Medieval Times for the dinner show. The huge auditorium was divided into sections supporting specific color-coded knights. In addition to our two high schools, dozens of other high schools from multiple states added to the raucous cheering for their knights. 

I know. It was only a show. Nobody died. The fighting was fake. We were very much entertained and the food was better than I thought it would be; we had to eat with our hands. Good times.

We always want to be entertained. Don't we? Today's professional sports feature both men and women battling it out with rabid fans cheering them on. The same with high school and college sports. I've loved sports in my life. Not so much now, but I still like to watch football now and again. 

We celebrate champions and shame the losers. And because we like winning so much (I use the collective "we" loosely here knowing it's not everyone), we forgive the transgressors of their greater sins. Time and again it's the men who fall into this category considering thousands of years of patriarchy and misogyny. 

Men in sports who harass, assault, rape, and perpetrate domestic violence on other women, usually girlfriends and spouses. Otherwise known as intimate partner violence. There have been many high-profile cases in the past two decades, and probably more so since the reporting of domestic violence, assault, and rape may be higher than it's ever been. And many of these athletes had little to no punishment and continued to play sports and receive paychecks for those who played professionally.

We want to be entertained regardless of who gets hurt. We want to win regardless. 

Even with reporting supposedly up, it's impossible to exactly know how many men in sports have committed harassment, assault, and/or rape across professional, collegiate, and youth levels across the globe since 2000.

However, data indicates the number is in the thousands, with reports showing that 96% of perpetrators in these cases were male.

It's not just athletes. Men across the socioeconomic spectrum continue to be entrenched in our ongoing culture of patriarchy and misogyny. According to Jackson Katz, Ph.D., "They’re all men who were socialized into a misogynous culture that dehumanizes women, turns them into sexual commodities and licenses men to mistreat them." He was specifically talking about the men in the Epstein files and the men who raped Gisèle Pelicot in France, but this applies to all men from every facet of life. 

Jackson Katz, Ph.D., is the co-founder of the Young Men Research Initiative and a prolific writer about violence against women. I've started his new book titled Every Man: Why Violence Against Women is a Men’s Issue, I've read and watched a lot of his work and can't wait to read his book. 

Only 2%-10% of reported harassment, assault, and rape turn out to be false. But again, that's based on the victims who actually come forward and report the crimes. And too many of us still blame the victims in the end. 

We celebrate the men and we shame the victims. Again, the collective "we" meaning society in general, but not everyone specifically. There are those of us who want to change the misogynous assault and rape culture that's so embedded in our lives from birth. Mr. Katz has also said, "If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to raise a rapist."

We can break the latter without sacrificing the former. And it all starts at the beginning. Only then can we celebrate the safety of everyone. 

Because it's all "fire", dude

I told our kids I really was in men's glee in junior high, and then in choir in high school. They wanted proof. High school was easy because, there I was, styling a tux in the yearbook pictures from freshmen through junior years. 

But when I looked in my junior high yearbook, I wasn't in the group picture. Why I don't remember. Maybe I was at a math competition that day. Something else that would've conflicted with the taking of the group picture. Not only I wasn't in the picture, my name wasn't listed either. That was an unfortunate oversight somewhere along the line. Mr. Hannah, our junior high choir teacher, surely would've included my name in the listing.

"Dad, you weren't in men's glee; you're not in the picture," our youngest Bryce.

"Yes, I was," I protested. Why wasn't I in there? I thought.

"You're not in there, Dad," our oldest Beatrice said. 

"C'mon, Dad," my wife Amy said.

"I thought you were an athlete, a brain, and in student government," Bryce said. "You were a nerd, Dad. Except when you were in detention. That was cool."

That's a story our kids love: the fact that when I was student body president, I received lunch detention for too many first period tardies. One of the other kids in detention has said to me, "Dude, aren't you the president?"

Yes. Yes, I was. The kids always laugh at that. 

I continued to defend myself about being in men's glee. Then I had an idea -- I had a cassette recording from men's glee in junior high that Mr. Hannah had recorded and made for all of us and our families. 

"I have proof," I said. "Listen to this."

I pushed play on the only working cassette player we have. Young teenage boys' voices sang an old standard like Erie Canal. 

I stopped the tape. "See?" I said. "I was in men's glee."

The kids laughed. "How do we know you were one of them?"

Sigh. They weren't wrong. I really was in men's glee. No, really. 

Today both our teens are in high school choir and love it -- and we love watching them sing! Bryce has been in choir since middle school and this is Beatrice's first year. Since last fall, they've been excited about their spring trip to a music festival in Anaheim, CA. And so have we. 

Because Disneyland. 

Don't get me wrong -- we really enjoy hearing all the kids sing. They are amazing. But c'mon, it's Disneyland. We've been taking our kids to Disneyland since they were three and five years old. So, we volunteered to be chaperones. Over 50 kids in total and 8 chaperones between two high schools. 

It was wonderful listening to all the high school choirs sing throughout the festival day, especially our two high schools (and especially our kids' choir). There were over 30 choirs from multiple states that participated. Brilliant song choices and inspired singing. These music directors are doing amazing things with these kids who sounded more like professional adult singers than teens. 

As a parent, it's been quite the bumpy joy ride living it all over again through our teens' experiences -- and all the kids on the choir festival trip. Their boisterous energy, anxieties, friendships, camaraderie, teasing, occasional indiscriminate F-bombs, and Gen Z slang flooded the bus on our way to the Anaheim music festival. Our high school choirs performed admirably and won all gold awards. 

Amy and I and all the chaperones powered through with the kids, eating dinner with our hands at Medieval Times, cheering for all the choirs at the awards ceremony (with Mickey, Minnie, Merlin, and friends), finishing off the 10+ mile hike throughout Disney until it closed, and staying up until midnight each night doing room checks. We were all exhausted but elated on the bus ride home. 

"Are you 'locked in', Dad?" Bryce said to me when we left, leveraging some Gen Z slang.

"It's 'fire', dude," I answered. It means something is really good, impressive, or exciting. That always makes our kids smile. 

Because it's all "fire", dude. And that always makes us smile. 

Our Family Bonding Present

I could see her there. Studying. Socializing. Working. It wasn't literally about the specific colleges we visited during spring break, just the fact that in less than two years she'd be going to college. Maybe it'll be a four-year college, or it will be two years of local junior college first. That's a decision yet to be made, although she's very interested in going away.

Exciting and bittersweet all at the same time. Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school and wants to be a teacher someday, elementary and/or middle school, so she's eyeing a credential program along with the four-year degree, maybe even an MA in education. We're looking at the California CSU and UC systems since we live here.

Visiting campuses brought back a lot of memories for both my wife Amy and me. Neither of us had a traditional four-year college experience. Amy went to a junior college for one year and then transferred to the University of North Carolina Wilmington. I started at my local community college, dropped out, then went to San Jose State University a year later. After a rocky first two and half years, I took a break, was already working full time, and then returned to finish with honors while working full time taking a full load of classes. Neither of us work directly in the fields our degrees represent, which is common for many college grads. We're grateful we still have them.

Both of us still have friends from those days. One of my best friends from college, Troy, has been my Rush (the band) touring buddy for decades. We're super excited to see Rush again this summer together. We were in the TKE fraternity together at SJSU and have many fun and fond memories from our college days, and the years since. We even ran into his ex and two of his kids on one of the college tours! Also, during our college trip we stopped at a deli called Grossman's (my last name but no relation as far as I knew) and the manager noticed my Rush t-shirt and said his head chef played drums in a Rush cover band. Synchronicity indeed. 

That's something both Amy and I are grateful for from our college experiences besides the education and our respective degrees. The fact that we found lifelong friendships. As we toured the college campuses with Beatrice, I pictured her walking to the student union with her friends, to class, to the dorms, to all the college haunts I remember from my time. 

Of course, college isn't for everyone and not the only options for future careers, and the world of work is changing in exciting and scary ways (AI is one of those ways and our kids aren't happy about it). But the careers that both our kids want to pursue -- teaching for Beatrice and marine science for Bryce -- will involve college and eventually embracing AI tools and systems.

Although those are life experiences yet to come, I can still see her there. This trip provided us with a glimpse of Bea's college future while staying grounded in our family bonding present. And that's always the greatest gift of all. 

We All Have A Problem

"You both have a problem."

We sat in our living room listening to our youngest Bryce explain to my wife Amy and I that we spend too much time on social media. Not only that, they told me I joke too much about artificial intelligence (AI) and use it too much as well. And the fact that AI is destroying the future for them, their sibling Beatrice, and all their friends. AI is altering education, the job market, and the energy required to power AI is destroying the environment. Both our kids are worried about it all.

And they're not wrong. But first, social media. Amy and I aren't on social media as much as we used to be and my weekly iPhone usage totals validate that (even though Bryce says we are). True, we both scroll for entertainment, but we aren't viewing individual pages much at all anymore, and while I post these articles I write here weekly, and a fun photo or drumming video now and again, our time online is minimal. 

The irony here is that we've allowed our kids to have their own social accounts since they were 13. Since then, there's been enough research that shows how addictive and destructive social media can be for kids, teens, and yes, adults. We monitored what they view online when they were younger and check in periodically now that they're older. They're mostly on YouTube and we're not fans of some of their content, but we've approved and they've also done a good job of limiting their screen time.

If we could go back and have them wait until they were 16, 17, even 18? Maybe. That might've been a better move, but they're both managing to limit their time, get their schoolwork done, socialize with their friends (and us), and engage in activities that have nothing to do with screens. Also, any emotional and psychological struggles they've had as teens wasn't directly related to social media as far as we're concerned. 

However, for many other kids and families it has been a big problem. Both Meta and Google lost a major social media addiction lawsuit recently because of this big problem. And there's more than likely a lot more to come. Will it change the way these platforms are run? Skeptics don't think so; parents hope so. Maybe it's just easier to not let kids start in the first place and for the parents to stay off. What was always billed as a way to stay connected has done more to isolate and disconnect. Amy and I are definitely considering staying off and going back to phone calls and letter writing to stay in touch with family and friends. 

Then there are the Chromebooks our kids have been using since middle school. The pandemic led to more tech use due to distance learning (Google Classroom). Big Tech companies -- primarily Google, Microsoft, and Apple -- have invested billions of dollars in cash, free software, training, and heavily discounted hardware to secure their position in the K-12 education market, a sector where tech spending reached $30 billion in 2024 alone. 

There are software safeguards, but too many kids have figured out how to circumvent and access YouTube and lots of inappropriate content. School districts across the country and now reducing their dependence on tech and the use of it in the classroom. Our own school district is looking at all this now. Thankfully our children have limited their usage of their school laptops to schoolwork.

AI is a tougher one for me as an employed parent. I work for a software company and we do provide AI features in our platform. Plus, I use AI every day to help me with work productivity. Like many new technologies I've had access to in the workplace since before public internet, I've always been an early adopter. That also included social media in the mid to late 2000's. 

AI is different. Will be different. At first, I wanted AI to be banned in schools because of the fear of plagiarism and the impact on critical thinking (which is happening), but then we went the other way with seeing value in some AI tools for kids to study with and learn from, especially high schoolers. 

The jury's still out on this one, though. Plus, lots of folks -- economists, tech pundits, naysayers, people struggling to find work -- all have different opinions on how much displacement it will have on the future job market for our kids, and what jobs it will literally destroy and possibly create.

Like every technology disruption before mainstream AI, we've always found a way to adjust in the workplace. For example, when my wife and I first dated in the late 1990's, we traveled as much as we could. Everywhere we went, we used paper maps and road atlases. We never really thought much about it; we grew up using paper maps and that was how we navigated travel.

Then came MapQuest, a free online mapping service, and navigating the world changed forever. However, many people early on printed the maps out from MapQuest to use, including us. Then came Google Maps and GPS and navigating the world changed yet again, forever.

Paper maps are still available, but for those displaced who worked in the printed map-making world, what happened to them? Were they displaced forever? Absorbed into the online map/GPS world? Into other industries? This may seem like an inconsequential example, but every disruption is consequential. 

These are similar questions HR/TA leader Jan Tegze asked with unsettling clarity. The difference being, earlier technology disruptions took decades to transform, displace, and reabsorb those impacted. Hundreds of years in fact moving from paper maps to smart phones, GPS, and apps. What happens to all the workers when AI transforms in a fraction of the time?

If you haven't read Anthropic's Labor market impacts of AI research (makers of Claude), you should. Some of the highlights include "workers in the most exposed professions are more likely to be older, female, more educated, and higher-paid" and "there's suggestive evidence that hiring of younger workers has slowed in exposed occupations".

So again, what happens to all the workers when AI transforms and displaces in a fraction of the time? Will they be reabsorbed, or not? There's a lot of uncertainty ahead for our kids.

When Bryce told us, "You both have a problem", it turned into a much bigger conversation. It's clear that we all have a problem with where we're at today with social media, technology, AI, and our children's futures. Not to mention a changing job market, inflation, rising energy costs, climate change, limited affordable housing, geopolitical instability, authoritarianism, diminished rights, extreme polarization, bigotry -- I could go on, but I think we're all painfully aware of what's happening around the world today. And what's happening down the street. 

When our family marched in protest with millions of others this weekend, it was about all of the things above for us. Our kids just want a better world. Blessings for our freedom to fight for it and make real impactful and positive change. 

Unconditionally

The words "unconditional love" dislodged wonderful multiple memories from my brain. They fell into my heart like happy kids into an inviting pool. As each memory hit my heart's waterline, my breathing hitched and the tears came. I sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes.

"Are you crying" my wife Amy asked.

I nodded and sobbed. She took my hand.

I didn't expect this reaction, sitting at a celebration of life for the father of one of my wife's good friends. Her friend was sharing some memories about her father and then she told us all that her dad loved her and her brother unconditionally. That he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported them through good times and bad. 

And that made me remember my father and his unconditional love for me and my sister. He passed away in 2012. 

I couldn't stop the tears; he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good and bad times as well. It's not that our mom didn't do some of the same, but it was more complicated with her and us. She passed away four months after our dad, shortly after I took her home to Oregon.

I couldn't stop the tears. Amy squeezed my hand. I then thought about the day before when we were at another memorial for one of my dear friend's mother who had recently passed. She loved life and lived it to its fullest. She found and embraced as much joy as possible throughout her life and encouraged her family to do the same. 

And that's Amy to us, me and our children. I squeezed her hand.

Amy's friend finished her eulogy. My tears continued. I remember at the end of high school when I finally broke down and told my parents about my past, my current emotional state, and my crippling anxieties, anxieties that I was not equipped to talk about in any rational way prior to that moment. Prior to that moment I had become cynical about unconditional love, not believing there was such a thing. But in that moment, both parents held me and told me they loved me and that they'd help me figure it out. I'll never forget that. 

Our kids have had some of their own emotional struggles as teens, and we're grateful they've been able to share with us. Each time we listen and hold them and tell them we love them and we'll help them figure it out by empowering them to do so.

My tears kept coming as the celebration of life for Amy's dear friend's father continued. Those in attendance were given party hats because he wanted it to be a celebration. But losing someone dear brings sadness, and Amy's friend told us all, "The tears are worth it."

I wondered what my children would say about me someday after I was gone. I know that's morbid, but after reliving my own's father love as I sat there, I already knew the answer before I even asked myself the question: they would say he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good times and bad.

Unconditionally. 

The Freedom to Thrive

When I first wrote about the high school incident in Visalia last month where a small group of eight ASB students made the shirts they wore spell out “2 FAG6OTS”, there were those who warned me not to read the online comments. Not comments about my article; they were the comments on one of the original news postings about the incident. 

I didn't read them, because most of the time these days online comments are horrible and offensive, but someone did share with me that many of the comments supported the students' free speech.

Free speech to use an offensive slur toward 8th graders who were at high school orientation. Welcome to high school, kids. 

This prompted me to research more about the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which guarantees fundamental freedoms of religion, speech, press, assembly, and petition, primarily restricting government interference. 

It was adopted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights and protects against state-imposed religion and allows for free expression, though these rights are not absolute, excluding obscenity, true threats, and incitement.

The First Amendment broadly protects freedom of speech, even speech that is offensive, hateful, or deeply disturbing. The U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the government generally cannot prohibit speech just because it is hateful or offensive.

And that sucks, doesn't it? I think it does. Even with the authoritarian movement in this country, we still have the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. I can speak my mind as I do here in this forum and not be jailed for it. Not yet anyway.

But that also means we can say some pretty offensive and intimidating things to each other without fear of legal reprisal. Again, that sucks.

There are limits, however. Important exceptions include:

• Speech — including hate speech — is not protected if it falls into certain unprotected categories, such as:
• True threats (serious expressions of intent to commit violence)
• Incitement to imminent lawless action (encouraging immediate violence or illegal acts — Brandenburg v. Ohio)
• Harassment (especially in workplace or school settings under civil rights laws)
• Fighting words (direct, face-to-face insults likely to provoke immediate violence — though this doctrine is narrow and rarely applied today)
• Defamation

Something interesting to note is that the U.S. does not have a general “hate speech exception” to the First Amendment. Many other democracies (like Germany, Canada, and the UK) do restrict hate speech more broadly, but the U.S. typically does not.

But schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

Let that sink in — schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

I'm on my local school board in Santa Cruz and my district shared some important background about when the speech crosses the line. Under California Education Code 48900.4, a student may be disciplined for harassment, threats, or intimidation directed toward a student or staff member that is sufficiently severe or pervasive that it disrupts classwork, creates substantial disorder, or creates an intimidating or hostile educational environment. It’s important to clarify that a racial slur, though it may not be pervasive, is severe. 

Education Code 48900 allows schools to discipline students for bullying, which includes verbal acts, written communication, or electronic communication directed at one or more students that is severe or pervasive and that causes emotional harm, fear for personal safety, or substantial interference with a student’s participation in school. The law specifically recognizes bullying based on actual or perceived characteristics such as race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics.

It is important to note that the legal standard used in harassment and bullying cases is “severe or pervasive.” This means the conduct does not need to be repeated over time if the behavior is serious enough. In some cases, a single incident may meet the standard if it is sufficiently severe. Racial slurs directed at a student can fall into this category, particularly when the language targets a student’s identity and creates humiliation, intimidation, or a hostile learning environment.

It's true that schools cannot discipline students solely for speech that would be protected by the First Amendment if expressed off campus. But the incident referenced above happened on campus, during school hours, and during an orientation assembly for 8th graders.

Really. Harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

That's why I'm grateful of our Superintendent’s Student Advisory on Race & Equity in Santa Cruz that was formed in 2020 to elevate student voices around issues of race, equity, and school climate. The Advisory provides recommendations to ensure schools are safe, inclusive, and supportive for all students.

Our school board recently adopted updated Board Policy and approved a new resolution drafted by the Student Advisory on Race & Equity that called for eliminating the use of the N-word and all hate speech. Yes, the N-word. Today. Over 60 years after the Civil Rights Act and all the important anti-racist work since. 

Back to the Visalia Unified School District, the one I grew up in decades ago. Do you think those 8th graders the slur was directed at will feel safe at their new high school now? Based on the latest news I've read about this, the involved students have faced “disciplinary action,” according to the district, but officials said specifics of the investigation — including how many students were involved and how they were disciplined — won’t be made public. Being on my local school board, I get that. 

Whatever the disciplinary action, I hope the students who were involved reflect on what they did and understand how it created a humiliating, intimidating, and hostile learning environment for those students they targeted. Even if they grew up being taught that being LGBTQ+ is "wrong" due to religious beliefs, etc., it's not okay to harass, intimidate, or bully because they don't like it.

Same goes for me and my family — we can speak out against those who discriminate against any race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics. We don't like it, but we're not going to harass, intimidate, or bully them to change their minds. We'll do our best to educate and create a mutual understanding of what the hate speech does to the children and adults on the receiving end. 

So, yes, you're free to be hateful and offensive in this country. And when you lead with "hey, it's free speech", that you can say whatever you want whenever you want, without denouncing demeaning and destructive language directed at specific groups of people for whatever reason, then you're making the world less safe for families everywhere. 

Thank you for letting me speak my truth. Let's reinvest in the freedom to thrive, not destroy.

How We're Teaching It

"...The road unwinds towards me
What was there is gone
The road unwinds before me
And I go riding on..."

–Rush, Driven

It's our tone. Our inflection. The way we emphasize "no, don't do that" or "no, you can't stop now" or "what are you doing!?!".

And in the defense of our oldest Beatrice who's been driving with her permit now for a couple of months, with nearly 30 hours of driving total, she's not wrong. 

As parents, my wife Amy and I haven't forgotten how hard it is when you're learning to drive. Operating a 4,000+ pound machine at any miles per hour can still be rough sometimes for adults, like us who have driven one million miles (based on the current driving average of 60 minutes a day). We haven't had to commute to work for any significant distance for many years either. 

It's a lot to remember, all the rules of the road, while also trying to anticipate what all the other drivers around you may do. We don't have fully autonomous driving vehicles 100% on the road yet, which may in the future reduce accidents, but don't tell that to Waymo today if you'd seen the bizarre self-driving behavior in San Francisco and other cities.

Beatrice has been driving herself and sibling Bryce to and from school and other places, with Amy or me or both of us in the car with her. We grab her permit, slap on the "PLEASE BE PATIENCE -- STUDENT DRIVER" magnets on the car, and off we go. Unfortunately, Beatrice gets double the adult trouble when Mom and Dad engage in crosstalk driving tips. Which don't always align and adds to the inflection frustration. 

"Beatrice stop! You're really close to that parked truck."

"No, she's not, Amy. Plenty of room. Beatrice, keep going. You can't stop here."

We don't crosstalk every time thankfully (whether that's contradicting each other or literally sounding cross). But again, no matter how we say it, our tone can sometimes feel like we said, "Good God kid, what were you thinking stopping when turning right on a green light and no one else is around! Go now!" 

We really try to not to do that, but it's harder for me because I'm the gruffly direct Dad while Amy is usually the warm empathic Mom. And yet, Beatrice reminds us again and again to not crosstalk when we're together and to not be angry, judgy, or shaming with our words when we think we're helping her. 

We don't think we are, but I'm sure it might sound that way when we're stressed about driving with a student driver. We also have to remind ourselves she's a teen and is stressed learning to drive and more subject to feeling like we're disappointed when we point out something to her. If we speak up, it feels like to her we're freaking out, which freaks her out. 

And now Bryce is right behind and cannot wait to learn to drive. Sigh. 

We'll help Beatrice with her driving skills as much as we can (and eventually Bryce). The more hours she gets in pre and post driver's license the better (and hopefully safer) driver she'll be. The best way to know is to do; experience is the greatest driver of "doing" mastery. She's doing great.

For Mom and Dad, we'll keep reminding to not turn left into oncoming traffic even when the light is green, and many other important driving tips. We also need to keep reminding ourselves that it's not what we're teaching, it's how we're teaching it, whether together or one-on-one. Watch the crosstalk, kids. 

From Now Until Forever

"...(Forever) Got a feeling that forever
(Together) We are gonna stay together
(Forever) From now until forever
You're the biggest part of me
You're the life that breathes in me
You're the biggest part
Of me..."

–Ambrosia, Biggest Part of Me

The summer before I started high school, I typed the song lyrics out on a single sheet of paper for my girlfriend at the time. The song was "Biggest Part of Me" and had just been released in April of 1980 and became one of Ambrosia's biggest hits. Music had become a defining part of who I was and how I saw the world. 

I was an avid reader then (and now), and that same year I read Lucifer's Hammer, an end-of-world story set Central Valley of California near where I grew up, and that book started my love of reading about how humanity survives a natural or manmade catastrophe.

Decades later, after my wife Amy and I first met, we discovered we both loved mostly the same music, including Ambrosia's "Biggest Part of Me", and that we both loved end-of-the-world stories. Hopeful romantics who felt humanity was hopelessly doomed. 

In 1999, the night before we moved in together, Amy took me to see Ambrosia at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. And we danced to our song. Four years later we were married and we danced to our song (it's been the wedding for many folks over the decades). Every time we hear the song we dance to it and sing it to each other.

Ambrosia played locally again this weekend and we went to see the show, while . Before the show started, we met a lovely couple named Jim and Nancy while we were eating dinner across the street. Nancy's cousin was one of the keyboardists for Ambrosia, Mary, and the wife of the drummer and one of the original band founders, Burleigh Drummond. We told them it was our wedding song, and they smiled and said that was wonderful and that it's been many couple's wedding song. We smiled and said we couldn't wait for the show. I was so grateful for such synchronicity! 

The Ambrosia show was wonderful. They played their hits and some covers and songs we had never heard before. They played "our" song and we danced to it just like we always do. 

Here we are in our 29th year with two teens, a cat, and a dog. We're still hopeful romantics trying to make a positive difference. We also still love our end-of-world stories; we still feel that humanity is doomed. But not as hopelessly anymore. It's not quite cynicism -- it's pragmatic realism now laced with mindful hope. 

The doomsday fiction we've read and watched over the decades usually ended with some form mindful hope, of the people wanting to be better, rebuild, and make the best of what was left. Understandably our kids do not like this about us. They're very aware of the world they're inheriting now and want to do something more directly active to improving it. We hope they do.

Trust me, we really don't want the world to end. We want a better world for our children. We're working on a better world for our children. Our children are working on a better world for our children. But if the end of the world comes, we'll go out with a love-filled bang dancing to "Biggest Part of Me" and salvaging as much of the best of us we can along the way -- from now until forever -- amen.

Excavate With Love and Care

"...The world weighs on my shoulders
But what am I to do?
You sometimes drive me crazy
But I worry about you

I know it makes no difference
To what you're going through
But I see the tip of the iceberg
And I worry about you..."

–Rush, Distant Early Warning

Even with a lot of friends in high school and a close family, there were times when I was lonely. Extremely lonely. The kind where I didn't know how to articulate how lonely I was and periodic depression set in. It got worse toward the end of high school when I started having panic attacks and extreme anxiety, which at the time I understood nothing about. 

I tried to talk about it with friends and family, but it sounded trite to me. I had everything in the world going for me, so why did I feel this way? Why did I feel so alone? Why was I falling apart? No one treated me that way, but no one knew exactly how I felt, and when your self-perception is skewed to dark extremes, it's hard to accept help of any kind. The spiraling feeds on itself, propelling you into isolated oblivion where no one can reach you.

Fortunately, I worked through all that after high school, with help from dear friends, family, and therapy. Decades later I'm married with two teens and haven't felt severely lonely, anxious, or depressed for a long time. There are small fires here and there from time to time, but those are easily managed and put out. 

But today, according to a recent AARP study, 40% of U.S. adults now report being lonely, a significant increase from 35% in both 2010 and 2018. Besides us "old" folks, it's also a greater problem for Gen Z, Millennials, and the LGBTQ+ community. 

Also, according to the article, nearly half of lonely adults have limited social resources and wish for stronger connections, compared to about a third of adults overall. Community engagement is also declining: fewer people are attending religious services, volunteering, or joining local groups. 

While technology can help a helpful connector, too many adult dive into social media rabbit holes and stay too long. Even our own kids tease my wife and I about spending too much time on our devices, flipping through Facebook and Instagram. My usage is down 50% from a few years ago, but they still think I'm on too much. Social It's no wonder that more lonely adults are turning to artificially intelligent (AI) companionship. 

Loneliness is a strong predictor of poor health outcomes, including a higher risk of cognitive decline, depression, and stroke. It's linked to approximately 871,000 loneliness-related deaths annually, with significant health impacts. I read it's equated to the damage smoking a pack of cigarettes can do to the body. Thank goodness I'm an ex-smoker with limited anxiety these days. 

As a close family that does our best to fill our lives with daily joy, we're very open and empathic communicators, ready to listen to each other and provide counsel if and when needed. Or, just simply listen. Well, our teens aren't always the best listeners, and sometimes it's clear when all they hear come out of our mouths is, "Blah, blah, blah..." Because we are still the parents and the adults in charge. 

Both our kids have their own friend groups and close friends, but like many teens today, have struggled with loneliness sometimes since middle school. We've found that having the open communication with them, without shame or judgement, is the key to healthy family relationships and curbing isolation and loneliness. The more adulting they do, the more it translates into healthy relationships with others in their lives. Same goes for Mom and Dad. 

Also, get your whole family involved where you live. Volunteer your time. Join a church and/or a club. Play recreational sports. Take a class. Organize a march. Make new and lasting social connections. And if you see the tip of a loneliness iceberg, excavate with love and care to find the heart that's always there.

No Harmless Joke

We used the f-word all the time. We threw it at each other like teasing darts, meant to sting and leave a mark. We also knew other people who used the f-word to make others feel less than human, a filthy sub-species that wasn't worthy to bask in the same circles or sunlight as them. 

That may seem dramatic, but it was more than true, going all the way back to grade school for me and my friends. The usage became especially prevalent in junior high and high school. It continued for years after high school as well. It was about men minimizing other men, to demasculinize each other. When we used it against each other, we never thought about its origin or why it was ultimately offensive. And when it was between us, we were only joking with each other. 

It was only a harmless joke. C'mon.

The f-word I'm talking about is faggot. Including any derivative or tangential equivalent like "you're so gay".

Let's go back in time. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the morpheme comes from the French fagot, which means a small bundle of bound-together sticks to be used as kindling. 

By the mid-16th century, the word had become associated with the burning alive of heretics and was used in callous phrases such as "fry a faggot." 

By the 1800s, the term was also being used to refer derogatorily to women. The modern term may have come from these origins, but the etymology is in dispute.

The Oxford English Dictionary cites a 1914 reference in a book of criminal slang as the first modern American use of faggot as a slur for a homosexual male.

Today the term is listed in most every dictionary as derogatory or offensive.

When I read about the high school incident in Visalia where I grew up, I was disappointed and angered. It was my rival high school when I was a teenager, but that was decades ago and nothing like this happened then that I remember. 

A group of senior students, some who were part of the ASB student leadership, spelled out a homophobic slur with the t-shirts they were wearing. 

According to the news reporting, the picture of them doing this was taken during school hours, immediately following a senior class photo shoot. In the senior photo, the shirts spelled out "Class of 2026 Always Legit," before they rearranged the letters to say the derogatory word.

It seems to have been prompted by the fact that the seniors were leading an eight-grade orientation on when some ASB leaders reacted to two middle-school boys holding hands. Then later in the day, a small group of eight ASB students – male and female, made shirts to spell out “2 FAG6OTS” while seating next to each other on the bleachers.

Student leadership did this. During school hours. In front of the entire student body, teachers, and administration. 

The Visalia Unified Superintendent said, "This is unacceptable behavior and this matter is being thoroughly investigated and appropriate action will be taken."

He added, "Every student deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued on our campuses. We will continue working to ensure our schools are places where dignity, belonging, and accountability guide our actions."

I also read that one of the students' parents was quoted anonymously that "we will deal with them; they didn't mean any harm".

I ask the parents of these kids -- then why did they do it in the first place? Why did they think it was okay? The problem with privileged circular logic is that some of them probably do believe it was a harmless joke. 

When some of my friends in high school egged another friend's house, him and his parents were very hurt. My parents were very upset and disappointed in us. I was upset and disappointed in us. But some of the other fathers didn't care and chalked it up as harmless teen fun. 

Back in the day, my friends and I also rationalized it as harmless joking amongst ourselves. We thought we were pretty good guys who just teased each other relentlessly. It took many years after high school for us to understand how cruel and offensive it was using gay slurs, ethnic slurs, female slurs, etc., and we finally changed our behavior. We never spelled out a slur with our t-shirts at a school function, but that didn't make our behavior any less hurtful if others knew what we said.

Many of us went on to have families of our own. My wife and I have two daughters, both in high school now, and our youngest identifies as non-binary and is gay. Something they knew since they were in the 4th grade. Something we've accepted fully because we love our children and fully support them in being who they are and becoming happy and healthy adults. I believe that's true with most parents. 

We now live in a country whose leadership openly and unapologetically practices discrimination, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, and harassment of historically marginalized populations. Masked in the guise of equality and unity. Thankfully most of us pushing back against the offensive and dehumanizing rhetoric and actions.

So again, I ask the parents of the students who spelled out the homophobic slur at the school function, and the students themselves who did it (some of whom were ASB leaders): Why did they/you do it in the first place? Why did they/you think it was okay? What should the consequences be? What's the learning opportunity here, the empathic growth opportunity for all involved? 

It's no harmless joke, kids. Everyone deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued. Even those we don't like and disagree with. No one deserves their humanity and rights minimized based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or religion. As the parents and the adults in the room, we can and should do better for our kids. For all the kids. 

Finding Joy

I knew immediately she wasn't a conference attendee. Not so much based on what she wore, clothes I remember seeing at Grateful Dead shows in the late 1980's. Colorful, loose-fitting shirt and pants. A little dingy, but no body odor smell. She had a small, kind face, tan and leathered, but I assumed she was only in her forties. She also didn't have on a conference badge, so that was telling. 

She stopped in from our table in the exhibit space eyeing the LEGO figures we had on display. They were part of our fun giveaway; attendees could build their ideal job candidate with the Legos and then we'd talk with them about optimizing their candidate and experience. Our company, Survale, helps companies improve their recruiting, hiring, and retention, through candidate and employee experience feedback. 

"How's the conference going for you so far?" I asked. I instantly felt bad asking her that, knowing that she wasn't attending.

"Great," she said. 

I wasn't surprised she said this. She was eating one of the tapioca deserts they had served at lunch. 

"The tapioca's good, isn't it," I said.

"Yes. Can I build one?" she said, referring to the LEGO people. 

"Of course," I said. 

My co-workers engaged with her as well as she built her first LEGO person. We all knew she wasn't attending the conference.

One of them asked her about the conference, and she said, "Oh, I'm not attending. I was just walking down the beach and saw this event. I came over and had some lunch and now I'm building a Lego person."

As she built her person, her face awakened with determined joy. There weren't a lot of parts to build these Lego people, but she methodically took her time, selecting and re-selecting the legs, body, head, hair, and accessory the figure would hold. 

She finished and I told her it looked great. Then she asked, "Can I build another one?"

"Sure, please do," I said. 

More determined joy. The exhibiting part of the conference was almost over, so we gave her the space and the time to build. 

One of our team asked to take her picture putting the Legos together. Her joy drained away and she looked concerned. "No, I don't think so," she said. But she ultimately agreed when she didn't have to look directly at the phone camera, that it was just for our marketing team.

When she was done with her second figure, she started to walk away, paused, her eyes fixated on the Legos still, and then turned to face us again.

"Can I just do one more?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. 

After the stranger left our table, I realized I never asked what her name was, nor did I share mine. I knew nothing else about her -- whether she was unemployed and/or unhoused; whether she had a criminal past or not; whether she was alone or had her own family; whether she had physical and/or mental health issues. 

What I did know is that for a few moments, she found intentional joy in putting together the LEGO people, and we encouraged her to do it, without shame or judgement. A simple moment of empathic humanity.

I also knew she was someone's daughter, and that made me think about our own daughters, and their adult lives that have yet to unfold. Supposedly humans make over 35,000 decisions each day equating to nearly a billion decisions in a lifetime. Because adulting is hard, we've encouraged our kids to consciously manifest a happy and healthy life. But there will unforeseen circumstances to deal with and poor decisions will be made along the way. Hopefully fewer and farther in between than we experienced, especially me. 

If there's one thing I believe we've imparted on them to date, it's finding joy in everything they do. Always. Intentionally. Unequivocally. Joy.

Our Children's Future

Our oldest Beatrice loves history. Our youngest Bryce loves science. Both have been rewritten and rolled back by the current U.S. government. Our rights continue to be trampled on, and citizens are being harassed, injured, and killed. These are scary times for all Americans. Even those who support it all.

But they're especially scary for our children. My wife Amy and I hopefully have many more years of living ahead, but our children's futures are in jeopardy. We know. Our friends with kids know it. Our kids know it. 

Which was why we were okay with them both participating in the "Stop ICE Day of Action" school walk out and protest. Over 1,000 high school and middle school students in our district exercised their 1st amendment rights to gather peacefully and protest what's happening in our country. 

That wasn't without some reservations from us, however. First, being a parent and a school board member, I was torn letting our kids miss school for this event. Our district issued a statement for parents that read, "On Friday, schools will offer optional structured opportunities for reflection, discussion, writing, and creative expression so students can exercise their first amendment rights while safely remaining on campus. Because school attendance is state law, we cannot endorse or provide resources for any walk-out of school. This is true regardless of the nature of the protest." 

Our school district added, "Our highest priority is student safety, well-being, and belonging." For every single student. Another board member also reminded me that "through existing school board policy, we have a shared responsibility to uphold student rights, maintain safe learning environments, and support staff in their professional roles." 

Absolutely. And Amy reminded our two teens about our family safety plans going to a protest or any event (concert, sporting event, etc.). Always be aware of what's happening around you. Stay away from the cars driving on the streets. If confrontations happen, move away from them as quickly and safely as possible. Do not go towards them and engage. Listen to and let local law enforcement do their job. Go into a store or any place of business to find refuge. Call 911 if need be. Call us as well.

I've never pretended to ignore what's been happening in America. As citizens and parents, we will speak our truth more frequently because this will not stand. Our democratic republic is being transformed daily and we could spiral into authoritarianism for decades if we don't act. This includes contacting our elected officials, peacefully protesting, voting, and empowering our local communities. Beatrice will be voting for the first time in November and she's excited to exercise that right. So are we. 

Because if we don't act, it does not bode well for our children's future. Hit the streets (and the books), kids. No cap (as the kids would say, or maybe not anymore now that I've said it). 

Keep America Free and Just

What's happening in America has weighed on my heart and my family's, so I wrote an open letter to our federally elected officials that I plan on sending to as many as I can, even to those who don't represent our region and my state. 

There are those Representatives and Senators who do oppose the authoritarian overreach happening in Minneapolis and elsewhere, but it still feels like no one is stopping it. 

And for the safety of all American citizens, stop it we must. Let's keep America free and just. 

***

Dear Representative/Senator [Last Name],

It's with a heavy heart that I'm contacting you. The DHS federal enforcement of immigration policies in the United States of America has become extremely dangerous to undocumented immigrants, legally documented immigrants, and every American citizen. 

Most Americans would agree that we should arrest and prosecute criminals, but it's clear what the federal government is doing goes far beyond that mandate. U.S. citizens are being harassed, pepper sprayed, beaten, and arrested as if they were criminals. It has become a literal fear and shakedown campaign to suppress our 1st amendment rights to gather and protest peacefully. Calling state elected officials and protestors alike domestic terrorists allows the federal government to escalate, arrest U.S. citizens, and unfortunately hurt and/or kill them. Witness accounts (and video proof) of the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti contradict that of federal law enforcement, border patrol, and ICE agents. But it's the federal government continues to insist they are enforcing the law and those protesting are violating it. 

This isn't the first time federal law enforcement overreach has jeopardized the safety of American citizens. There's been: The Whiskey Rebellion (1794), Enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act (1850s), The Pullman Strike (1894), The Bonus Army (1932), Civil Rights & Antiwar Protests (1960s–70s), and Post-9/11 Policing. 

And now this. Throughout our history, there have been times when local communities and local law enforcement have needed the assistance of federal law enforcement, but not today, at least not in the way it's being deployed. We don't need thousands of masked ICE agents terrorizing the streets of America. Families like ours fear that what is happening in Minneapolis is spreading into everyone's neighborhoods, and then none of us will be safe, especially those of us who speak up and out against this authoritarian abuse of power. No more due process for anyone. Just cruelty, fear, and oppression.

Millions of Americans want you to do everything you can to stop these violent actions against our citizens, legal immigrants, and undocumented immigrants, who most are doing what they can to make a better life for themselves and their families. These actions are not making us safer as a nation, just more fearful and unstable.

The United States of America has become unrecognizable. It's time our elected officials recognize this, work together regardless of political ideology, and do something about it. As a U.S. citizen, a husband, and a father of two, I implore you to help end this dystopian madness.

Sincerely,

Kevin Grossman

Another Mile Marker

 "...Wind

In my hair

Shifting and drifting

Mechanical music

Adrenaline surge..."

–Rush, Red Barchetta

When I turned 16, I couldn't wait to drive. The freedom of it. Driving to and from school. Cruising the main strip. Cranking up the rock and roll and speeding down a country road. I knew it was a much different mode of transportation than riding a bike or walking, always being a passenger up until then, but there was something transformative about driving myself and others around.

I didn't understand the full responsibility of driving until many years after I got my driver's license. That makes sense; most kids don't fully grasp the potential dangers of driving around a 4,000-pound machine moving at 60+ mph. Or even 10 mph. 

I couldn't wait. Back when I was in high school, driver's training was still offered as a class, complete with all the bloody accident videos explaining the dangers of driving under the influence. A scared-straight approach, which at the time, worked for me. At least until after high school. 

But not every kid is excited to drive when they turn 16. And that's okay. Our oldest Beatrice was like that, thinking about driving, but not ready to do it just yet. Instead, taking the city bus sometimes or riding my e-bike that I never ride. She went from no interest in driving to some interest to studying and studying for her driver's permit.

And then after one speed bump:

"Dad, I passed! I got my permit!"

That call I received on Beatrice's way home from the DMV with Mom. Since then, we've scheduled her driver's training, which is not offered through high school today, and we have to pay for. We've also been taking her driving so she can get her permit hours in so she can take her driver's license test this summer.

Each drive Beatrice gets a little more comfortable and confident, but it's still overwhelming when you're learning. As parents, we live our past coming of age over and over again, from childhood to teen-land, offering guidance and advice along the way based on our own lessons learned. Learning to drive is one of those we remember well. 

The morning my mom took me to get to take my driving test for my license, I had a butterfly convention rocking my stomach. In the blink of an eye, it was over, and I had passed. My mom proceeded to drive us back home again. I asked her why, since I thought she was going to drop me off at school, and she answered, "Because you're going to drive yourself to school today." That was something I'll never forget.

We're helping Beatrice learn to drive now that she has her permit, and soon her sibling Bryce will be ready to go (and who wants to drive yesterday). Driving with "fussy" Dad is more stressful than "calm" Mom, but we know that Beatrice appreciates all the help from both of us. We look forward to both Beatrice and Bryce driving themselves around, and us, but we don't look forward to our insurance rates increasing dramatically. 

Another mile marker in our lives is here, and there's no looking back, except when checking your mirrors, kids. Don't ever forget that part.

All the Friendship in Between, with Love

The last two times I heard from Robby were phone-tag voicemails. There were a lot of those over the decades of our friendship. I'd call him. He'd call me back. He'd call me. I'd call him back. Back and forth until we'd connect, usually every two weeks. 

I saved the last two voicemails from him. I didn't intend to, but every time I wanted to delete them, I just couldn't. I know I'm not the only person to do that, wanting to hear the voice of someone you loved who's no longer there. 

The last time I talked with Robby was right after he turned 59, and it was the last weekend our mutual longtime friends hung out with him. After than we played phone tag until two days before he passed. 

"Hey, my brother, it's Robby. I don't know what time it is but I am calling to catch up I feel like I cut you off the other day when we were talking because Mary called and I was expecting her call and blah blah blah blah blah. Anyway, I would like to talk to you, so when you get a chance if you could call me back that be great. Love you. Bye-bye."

Robby always had old friends calling him, playing phone tag with him, so it was no wonder he wanted to take her call, with "her" being the operative word. No offense taken here. Robby loved the ladies. 

"Hey, man, it's Robby trying to get back to you. We're playing some phone tag so I'll be around. Love you, man. Bye-bye."

That was the last voicemail, just like the thousands before it. Always ending in "love you", something we never had a problem sharing with each other. Who says men can't be close friends and say that they love each other. Not me and my friends, that's for sure. 

I've written about parenting, my wife, my children, growing up, and my life perspectives here since 2007. Another big part of my writing has been about my friends and friendship and the impact they've had on my life. All the posts linked below are a testament to those friends, those friendships, and all that love (and laughter), forever anchored to our friend Robby. The friendships and love that helped shape me as a man, a husband, a father, and being a better human. 

Robby would've turned 60 today. I'm so grateful we had him in our lives. Here's to the first and the last voicemail, and all the friendship in between, with love. Happy Birthday, Brother. 

• A Spirit Breaking Free
• Because There's Always A Promise
• A Longing for Loving Connection
• What Happens Next
• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• A Long-Term Well-Being Win
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• 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
• Retro K: A treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged

My Now Is Never Going Back Again

 "...Been down one time
Been down two time
Mmm

I'm never going back again..."

–Fleetwood Mac, Never Going Back Again

"Dad, this is my new favorite Fleetwood Mac song," Bryce said. Both our kids love music, especially our youngest, Bryce. In 2025, they started listening to Fleetwood Mac and fell in love with the Rumors album, an album that's now over 48 years old.  

We listened to it the other night while my family played a game and I fixed dinner, and I just couldn't get it out of my head. My wife Amy hates when that happens, but I don't mind it as much because certain lyrics will rattle around in my brain dislodging memories and helping me reframe personal insights. Song lyrics, poems, favorite prose passages -- all are my soul's food for thought.

This time of year there are those who make New Year's resolutions. Goals for the year. Life changes to make. Behaviors to modify. Bad habits to end and better ones to begin. I remember when my mom used to ask us to share our new year resolutions and to try and articulate the why of them. But I don't remember us ever checking in on our progress throughout the year, or reviewing the old resolutions when we made new ones in yet another new year.

We like to think of a new year as a fresh start, but the reality is, the only fresh start that matters is the now. There's a Rush song called Ceiling Unlimited with the lyrics "changes never end, never end, winding like an endless river, the time is now again" (written by one of my favorite writers, Neal Peart). Time is always now again. The past has happened and the future holds endless potential, but it's the now again where impactful change can be made, should be made, is only made. No matter if that's January 1 or June 30. 

How many times in my life did I make resolutions I never kept? Too many to count. Past trauma, addiction, selfishness, laziness, being biologically hardwired to make self-destructive decisions, feeling like I can do whatever I want when I want -- all things that can fill us with uncomfortable past reflections as we long for better futures. 

That doesn't mean there weren't good times and that real positive changes didn't occur. For me, there were and they did. In all my learning and healing over the years, and my recent years of regular meditation, personal discovery and growth is contingent on understanding and pivoting on past failure. But if you've acquiesced to the hardwiring of making self-destructive decisions with very little redemptive qualities, then you've lost the positive possibility of now. Something that's celebrated in mainstream literature, cinema, and television today. We've stopped letting go. Instead, we keep letting it rot and say we didn't have a choice.

However, we always have a choice. Even those with addiction problems know there's always a choice, a choice to not choose the destructive thing -- the drinking, smoking, gambling, etc. And that can lead to more choices of finding the support needed to sustain the healing. 

Making positive, mindful choices and letting go of what no longer serves us in the now benefits our own personal growth, and the wellbeing of others, and it isn't new. It's the spiritual backbone of religions and faiths going back thousands of years. 

For me, life used to be one step forward and two steps back. It seemed easier that way, like my fate was a weight of conflicting circumstances I had no control over, so damn the consequences of choice. Now, no matter what happens, it will always be one step forward, an ongoing resolution of living wellness. I especially thank my wife for instilling this in me and our children. My now is never going back again. 

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.