Believe To Become

Beatrice started the old stop-motion animated The Little Drummer Boy. 

"I've never watched this one," she said. "Did you used to watch this one?"

"It was one of my favorites growing up," I said. 

"Is that your origin story, Dad?" Bryce asked sarcastically, knowing how much I love playing the drums now.

"Yes, yes it is, Bryce," I answered emphatically with a big smile.

"Did you play your drums for the baby Jesus?" Bryce added.

"I wish I did."

"Did you cry when you watched The Little Drummer Boy?"

"Every year."

"Awe, that's sweet," Beatrice said. They both know Dad's always a hopeful crier.

Those were simpler times when my sister and I were kids. Every holiday getting together with the extended family, eating way too much food, singing Christmas carols, and celebrating the birth of Jesus. Plus, getting to watch all our favorites stop-motion and other animated classics, and of course, opening all the gifts. 

Sigh. I can hear the Peanuts gang singing "Christmas Time Is Here." 

"Christmastime is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of year..."

It wasn't all happy and carefree, though. The pleasant memories were bound to painful ones. Growing up with domestic violence and abuse sent my sister and I hurtling away from the innocence of childhood toward the concrete ceiling of adulthood at the speed of sound. The eventual sonic booms were deafening at times. 

And because my ears still sometimes pop from the pressurized past, my wife Amy and I were always all in for delivering supportive and loving parenting underscored with positive discipline. We don't always get it all right, but we do work hard to right the wrongs of our own pasts. 

Now our kids aren't kids any longer. Still years away, adulthood is coming faster for them. There are more questions about our specific rites of passages, the choices we made, and navigating friendships. There are questions about financial literacy, which we started having with them a few years ago. Beatrice has already had her first paying job and Bryce wishes they had one (besides the allowance they get for doing weekly household chores).

Their schoolwork gets harder every year and they have to focus more and more on time management and project management, which stresses both of them out. They realize how competitively ugly the world can be and how they'll have to navigate that throughout high school, college, and whatever they end up being and doing in their lives.

Yes, our kids have grown older and the simpler times have waned like a beautiful but brief winter sunset. Through this transitional time, the one thing we can't do for them, and really don't want to do, is to live their lives for them as they barrel toward adulthood. They have to go through it, with our guidance, of course. 

Now we hear them say, "I just don't have the time I need to get everything done -- and still be able to chill out!"

Which isn't true, but it's what it feels like sometimes. We can go from being on top of the world, to being flattened by it, especially when we hit that adulthood ceiling full force. But if there's one thing my origin story has taught me is that this ceiling can and does open like a magical observatory revealing a starlit universe of endless potential. 

Hard to see when you're scraping yourself off the ceiling, but all you need to do is believe to become, and then get to work. 

Blessings to you all however you celebrate this holiday season. Merry Christmas. 

Celebrate the Best of Us

Am I forever unredeemable?
Can I ever overcome all the wrongs I'm running from?
Can my worst be left behind
And do I deserve to find
There's a soul who could see any good in me?
Or will I only ever be
Unredeemable?

–Unredeemable, from Spirited

Spirited is one of my favorite Christmas movies today. Only two years old, it stars Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds and is an over-the-top A Christmas Carol twist of a musical comedy. I love it. Our kids like it. My wife Amy does not. At least, not all the singing and dancing parts. Actually, none of the singing and dancing parts. 

She's not a musical fan, but she kind of likes the story. That one along with many other holiday movies we watch this time of year: predictable campy comedies and melodramatic classics and heartfelt uplifters. For us anyway. The Holiday, Elf, Christmas Vacation, Just Friends, Four Christmases, Noelle, When Harry Met Sally, The Family Man (still my favorite), and It's a Wonderful Life (always a favorite). There are others as well, but these are the mainstays. And yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

However, A Christmas Carol isn't one of my favorites, whether the Charles Dickens' novel or any of the movie adaptations over the years. I get the story. I like the story. Just not a favorite.

But the theme of it -- that even the worst human is redeemable and can be inspired to find the good inside others and inspire others to do the same -- has always resonated with me. 

Too bad the worst humans today get the most media visibility and inspire too many others to do their worst as well, including our children and grandchildren. Our own children ask us all the time now why so many people celebrate and support those who embrace the worst qualities of humanity. That's always a super-tough one to answer, and it gets harder to answer as our kids get older. 

Because we're all a little unredeemable, aren't we? That's what makes us human (and why we watch all those campy holiday movies each year). No matter what religious or spiritual belief system and/or societal norms we choose to live by, or try to live by, or pretend to live by, most of us have made poor choices and done bad things we're not proud of. 

Some of those have seen the light of day and hopefully we've repented, while others are secrets buried deep inside the dark wells of our hearts. Mercy me, that seems to be the plot of nearly every contemporary dark novel and movie adaptation in recent memory. 

Our kids want to know about our poor choices and bad things we're not proud of; they want to understand who we were, those choices we've made in our lives, and why we became who we are today as they're becoming who they are tomorrow. Of course, we don't tell them everything, but we do want them to understand the why of our choices and what those repercussions were, and what they could be today or tomorrow if they made them.

When they ask, we also talk openly about the worst of humanity with our kids now that they're older, while emphasizing the best of humanity when they don't. We know we shouldn't be defined by the worst things we've done, as long as we've worked hard to be good people and do good things for ourselves and others. 

Are we ever unconditionally selfless, empathetic, and loving with others throughout our lifetimes, no matter what they've done? For most of us, no. It's more complicated and nuanced for most humans, and the worst-of-us recidivism is unfortunately up these days. But instead of wallowing in all that, something I struggled with in my youth, I only need to look at my wife and children to know that we work hard to celebrate the best of us. It's not a Dickens' novel, or a spirited modern day musical (of which Amy is thankful), but it is a story of redemption I continue to write with gratitude. 

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.

There's Nothing To It

"If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Want to change the world?
There's nothing to it..."

–Pure Imagination, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory

It was magical. I cried. I always cry when something moves me, whether in movies or writing or music or art. Always crying. 

"I cried a little," I said to my wife Amy when the new movie Wonka was over. 

"I know, Sweetie," Amy said, "You always do. Love you."

Yes, I do. It was magical, transporting me back to the first time I saw Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory with Gene Wilder and Jack Albertson back in the early 1970's. I almost didn't want to see the newest movie about Willie Wonka, but we went, and I'm glad.

Our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, didn't go with us, though. They wanted to see another matinee, The Boy and the Heron, which they really liked. Bryce loved it, too, and cried. They're totally like me that way. 

It was the day before Christmas Eve. While Amy and I finished Wonka, our kids went shopping for last-minute Mom and Dad gifts. It's weird to write that our kids, now teens, are more autonomous than ever. That they're doing their own things more and more, and yet, we still always come back together and do things together as a family. Every parent reminisces when their kids were little, keeping them in tow, hand in hand, never letting them out of our sight. 

Beatrice and Bryce will always be our babies no matter what, but those days of being little are over, and that's okay. We're so proud and grateful of the young adults they're becoming. Of their future fiercely independent selves we're starting to see. Of their unique and creative styles and sensibilities. Of their kind and loving hearts. Of their caring inclusiveness that this world so desperately needs. 

Want to change the world? There's nothing to it. Our kids remind us of that nearly every day. We're grateful that the magic of Christmas is aglow in our hearts throughout the year, not just the end of it. The magic of love and light abounds in BhivePower.

However you celebrate this holiday season, blessings to you all. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

The Love And The Light

"So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you had fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young..."

–Happy Xmas (War Is Over), John & Yoko/Plastic Ono Band with the Harlem Community Choir

At first it was comical -- all of us trying to figure out the bike riding to a local state park for a holiday faire. Our oldest daughter Beatrice wanted to ride my e-bike that I never ride, which was fine. But then when our youngest daughter Bryce got on the new bike we bought for her, one she'd already ridden to school, she lost her balance and fell over. She scratched her knee and was okay otherwise, but she broke the basket for the front of the bike, the one she puts her backpack in to and from school. Fortunately it still attaches to the handlebars. 

I was going to concede to ride Amy's old Schwinn, but even after raising the seat, I still felt like a circus bear riding a tricycle. Then Bryce wanted to ride Amy's newer Huffy, which was broken recently until we got fixed, so Bryce rode that one, I rode the new bike that was supposed to be for Bryce (with handlebars that needed tightening and brakes that needed adjusting), Amy rode the old Schwinn, and Bea rode my e-bike. All that took about 20 minutes to sort out. 

No matter how many times we've tried over the years, we've just never been a bike family. But, we have had some lovely bike rides together, and this time was no exception. It was a lovely December early afternoon riding along the bike path, with hazy cloud streaks muting the blue sky that met the sea. It was cool out, but not cold, and the bike ride to Wilder Ranch State Park was pleasant. The old-fashioned holiday faire was smaller than it usually was pre-covid, with still many families making candles, wreaths, ornaments, potpourri bags, and drinking cider and hot chocolate. 

Riding back home I was grateful we were able to do this as a family, that the worst thing we had to worry about was who was riding what bike. That's when I thought about families who have a lot more to worry about. Poverty, illness, war, violence, and death. 

My family doesn't have to worry about those things, at least, not directly like the families living them today. Indirectly, anything can happen at any time, but I don't dwell on that like I used to. I'm grateful for the now. For being able to live comfortably today without illness, war, violence, or God forbid, death. 

And speaking of God, when I was a child, I really wanted to believe that little baby Jesus would save the world, especially during Christmastime. That's when I was always the most hopeful about the world. But then I came to learn that it was always on us to save the world from the dark things. 

And save the world we still can. At least I want to believe that for me and my family. And yours, too. I'm a hopelessly sentimental and hopeful human. Even in the darkest moments of my past, or the world's, I've been that way, always believing that ultimately there is only love and light, that we can see it that way, and make it that way.

As we neared home on our bikes, I looked at the sea one more time before we lost sight of it, and all I saw was the love and the light. 

However you celebrate the holidays, blessings to you and yours. You may never be as hopelessly sentimental as me, but believe it or not, being hopeful and making a daily difference is easier than you think. 

"So this is Christmas, and what have you done?"

The 2022 Top 10 Most Read from GOTG

Here we are again; another year flew past. Mercy me. I wrote 50 articles this year on Get Off The Ground (GOTG), and I've written 843 in total since I started writing in 2007. I went from silly posts in early fatherhood to more serious pieces over the years. 

Thank you for stopping by and reading. We're all works in progress, and my wife Amy and I continue to work at being better spouses, parents, and community members. which is the whole point of what I share here -- and to be the positive spread of growth, empathy, and love. 

Speaking of stopping by and reading, here were this year's top 10 most read from GOTG:

1. Coronavirus Sucks, But We Don't Have To
2. From the Loss and the Pride 
3. The Ultimate Quits
4. Not How They Will Wind Up 
5. Never Too Old 
6. Almost Gridless 
7. Those That Just Might Reconnect 
8. The Teen Brain Two-Step 
9. Thanks to Mom (and me) 
10. Stuck in the Middle with Me

Thank you again for reading, and now it's time for a Christmas break for me and my family. No matter how you celebrate this time of the year, and whatever your holiday traditions are, blessings to you all. Be safe and well. 

"You're all I need

Underneath the tree…”

May This Force Be With You

The first time I saw it from afar was 2018. Construction was well underway during our last trip to Disneyland at the time, just beyond Frontierland, and we could see the top of the far away galaxy to come. During the summer of 2019, we were fortunate to take our family to Disney World, but were too early to see Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge; it had opened in Anaheim but not in Orlando at that point. I remember standing in front of the gate where it would open only a few months later. Yes, we love Disneyland.

If you've read my writings over the years, you also know that I love Star Wars and that it had a profound affect on me ever since the first time I saw it in 1977. That summer I was nearly 12 years old and the world was a dark and surreal place. We were in a long and steep recession, political apathy had spiked due to Watergate, and Middle East tensions ran high. Our family also experienced domestic violence and sexual and emotional abuse during the 1970's. Thankfully we had a mother who emphasized love and empathy over fear and hate, even after everything she'd been through, and we'd been through. 

At that time, Star Wars was a hopeful escapism for me with a greater theme of a positive power that could transform the universe: The Force. At the time I had become disillusioned with many things including religion, so science fiction and fantasy became my savior of sorts. 

I've been a fan ever since. When I heard Disney was building a land dedicated to Star Wars, I was out-my-mind excited. I couldn't wait. My wife and children knew I couldn't wait. But then the COVID-19 pandemic struck, and the world again became a dark and surreal place. 

We've lived through the past two years and have remained a strong, supportive, and loving family unit. My wife and I have worked hard and have been grateful to be able to provide for our family and do some fun things along the way. One of those things was planning another trip to Disneyland at the beginning of the holiday season this year (and the fact that it was safer to do so).

I finally got to see Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge for the first time. I got to see the Millennium Falcon up close, for goodness sake, and fly it. Yes, I knew it wasn't real, trust me, no matter how much I wanted it to be, but to stand in front of it and have a picture of my family letting the "Force" flow through us all was a super-thrilling and proud moment.  

Yes, proud. Because there's a real force that's empowered our family year after year, from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve. A force nurtured from practicing Kidpower physical and emotional safety skills, positive communication and relationship skills, and clear boundary-setting skills. Of course our family doesn't get these things right all the time, which is why we work on it week after week. The key is sustaining and growing; a Christmas magic that never ends. 

Even now with our girls being a teen and tween, rolling their eyes when we want them to practice these skills, they still embody them in their daily lives whether they realize it or not. And all of this force is grounded in mindfulness, love, and empathy, without ever compromising our boundaries, wellbeing, or safety, especially when others around us do. 

So, no matter how you celebrate this holiday season, may this force be with you. 

The GOTG Top 10 2020 Days of Coronavirus Posts

This is the part where we reflect on a year like no other. The part where we're trying to stay safe and healthy. The part where we miss our family and friends. The part where, whomever we're with this holiday season, we hold onto them with all our might. 

The part where we're grateful no matter what's transpired and no matter what's ahead. 

I asked my lovely wife Amy to pick her favorite 2020 "Days of Coronavirus" Get Off The Ground posts. If you've read any of my pieces, and I thank you if you have, then I hope one of the takeaways for you is how we work hard to see everyone and everything through eyes of love.

Especially under the weight of this year, we hope you continue to effect positive change with each other through empathy and eyes of love. 

Because that's the part where we find common ground, where we heal some of our hurts, and where maybe we find a little peace on earth.

Blessings to you all this holiday season.

Here are the top 10 2020 "Days of Coronavirus" posts as chosen by my lovely wife:

10. Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To 

The part where we adopt a dog.

9. When There's Nowhere to Go

The part where we need to take care of each other. 

8. The Newest Normal

The part where we need to check in and support each other.

7. About All The Things

The part where it's okay to grieve.

6. This Bad History

The part where we live good and bad history every day.

5. The Haunted Garden

The part where you want a little normalcy in an abnormal world. 

4. The Teacher Parade

The part where you're grateful for your teachers. 

3. Our Learning Quests

The part where we keep our synapses firing and brains rewiring.

2. A Grateful Tree

The part where you write a poem every once and awhile. 

1. Choose Eyes of Love

The part where, well, you get it. 

The Little Wooden Reindeer

 "Well I'm not the kind to live in the past
The years run too short and the days too fast
The things you lean on are the things that don't last
Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these
Time passages..."

–Al Stewart, Time Passages

After we went downtown, the song crept out from the shadows. I couldn't help but sing some of it while our family played Apples to Apples. Then I listened to it while fixing dinner. It's one of many older songs from my childhood that always takes me back decades. 

Or, just one year ago to 2019. One year pre-pandemic, when we were downtown with much of our community celebrating the season with our annual holiday parade. Our oldest Beatrice played flute in the school band, marching down Pacific Avenue, our Main Street, playing Jingle Bells, over and over again. 

I walked along with the band with other parents, and my wife Amy and our youngest Bryce waved to us from the side of the street towards the end of the parade route. There was finally a break in the rain, and all us parents who traveled along with the band took tons of pictures and videos. The community clapped and waved, we clapped and waved, some danced in the street like Bryce and even the chief of police, and for a couple of hours the local social spectrum shone like a rainy day rainbow -- with Santa riding in at the end on a city fire truck.

We were all so looking forward to 2020. It was going to be a year like no other.

Well, it was and has been, that's for sure. But not even close to what our expectations were -- coronavirus, economic downturn, millions out of work, social and racial injustice and inequity, political upheaval, fires, missing family and friends, and much, much, more. A year later and there's no downtown holiday parade, no school marching bands, and the Bay Area is again on the cusp of locking down further due to surges of COVID-19. It's been tough on local businesses everywhere and our in our own local community many businesses have closed forever. 

The shop local campaign has never been more important, and we've tried to do our part, ordering goods locally whenever possible. The Downtown Association of Santa Cruz has worked with local downtown merchants to make it easier to buy online and in store. That doesn't mean we haven't defaulted to ordering stuff online from Amazon, because we have, but we do try to strike a better balance when and where we can.

This year the Downtown Association of Santa Cruz launched a Reindeer Round-Up hunt (which runs through December 23), where kids (and adults) visit participating businesses displaying a small wooden reindeer, and then when enough reindeers are spotted, fun prizes are given away. Our girls loved it. We got some treats to eat, did some window shopping and then bought some downtown dollars for gifts to give away that can be used later at participating businesses.

Amy went to get the car and I walked the girls to the downtown information kiosk to turn in their reindeer forms. The woman working the kiosk wore a sweet candy cane elf hat and was thrilled that the girls did the reindeer round-up.

"You know, there's one more in here that you girls could find and add to your list," she said.

The three of us circled the kiosk but couldn't find it.

The kiosk employee exited and said, "I'll let you know when you get warmer. Try again."

We circled again.

"Ah -- you're getting warmer!" she said.

Then I looked up, and there on a little white shelf was the little wooden reindeer. And then the girls saw it, too. 

They both pointed and said, "There it is!"

The kiosk employee literally jumped in the air, her candy cane elf hat bouncing on her head. 

"Yeah! Great job!" she said.

The girls got to pick out a little gift, and they chose a small stuffed elephant and zebra. We got in the car and they told Mom all about it as we headed home. On the way home we drove along the ocean and as I looked out across water, I thought about how much we all looked forward to 2021, on how it could be a year like no other, how maybe we might be able to put this pandemic behind us, and much, much, more. 

We should all look up more often. 

"Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these time passages..."

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

A Well-Being Worth Practicing

A Grateful Tree

It's This Moment That Matters

The Bank of Mom and Dad

Something to Celebrate

The Haunted Garden

Mapping the Way

Mask Up First For Your Families

All Because of One Day on the Beach

Awash in Love and Hope

The Building Blocks of Healthy Lives

The Part Where All Lives Matter

The Clarity Bridge for Homelessness

Stars to Shine

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

A Foundation Worth Saving

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To 

Like Pinches of Empathic Cinnamon

She touched Angel Cakes and cried out. She had tried not to touch her by pulling her sleeve down over her hand, but her hand slipped out as she grabbed the elf named Angel Cakes from a shelf to move her to a chair.

"Oh no!"

Beatrice froze after she said it.

"What's wrong?" asked Bryce.

"I touched Angel Cakes!"

"Are you sure you did?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Dad, I need cinnamon!"

"Why?" I said.

Now, at this point I was in the middle of something semi-important on my computer and not really paying attention.

"Because I touched Angel Cakes. She'll lose her magical powers if I don't sprinkle cinnamon around her!"

Again Bryce tried to make her feel better. "Are you sure you touched her? Maybe you didn't."

"I did, Bryce! I did!"

"Beatrice, look up where the other spices are for the cinnamon," I said.

She looked. "Dad, I don't see it. We have to hurry!"

"Bea, the elf will be okay, just keep looking."

Of course, Mom had to be the one to come downstairs and find the cinnamon, which was actually in a place neither of us would've looked, which I realized afterwards was where we always kept it and I should've known. But again, I was doing something semi-important on my computer (making a new Christmas music playlist actually -- hey, that's important).

We had just gotten back from Thanksgiving at my sister's house and the shelf elves had appeared again in our house, coming out of elven hibernation at the North Pole since last Christmas. According to shelf-elf lore, or our daughters' version of the lore, you can't touch the red shelf elves with your hands or they'll lose their magical power. The others you can touch with bare hands, just not the red ones. Which is why you have to sprinkle cinnamon around the red elves, so they can get their magical powers back. The cinnamon is like a super-vitamin. After a little research, though, I didn't tell the girls that they must also write an apology letter to Santa Claus if they touch one of the elves. It's stressful and creepy enough that the elves move around every night with all our shelf-elfing shenanigans. No need to stress out the girls about being in hot water with Santa.

Even after that semi-traumatic shelf elf event, what I'm the most happy about are two things. The first is the fact that my family loves the holidays and we're all in with decorating and the festive and loving sentiments of the seasons. Even Bryce who fights it a little here and there when she'd rather be playing Minecraft, Roblox or watching silly YouTube videos. And I even broke our decorating tradition this year by hanging lights outside before Thanksgiving. Mercy me. That nearly caused a rift in the space-time continuum, but then we sealed the deal, or unsealed the universe, by listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving in addition to decorating early. Also, Beatrice just calls out to Alexa, "Alexa, play classic Christmas music!" Right on, Bea. In my defense, however, we're having a string of winter storms now, which we need, and I wouldn't have been able to decorate outside right after Thanksgiving like we usually do. They both also helped pick out gifts for a family experiencing domestic violence that we're again adopting this year.

The second thing I'm most happy about is the fact that our girls long to be with extended family and friends, to share continuous friendship, love and gratitude without selfish agenda or emotional baggage. Well, sometimes there's a selfish agenda when gift-getting is involved, but hey, they are still kids. However, they don't have the purposeful and painful distancing that comes with time and experience, when relationships can and do go awry and forgiveness is conditional. And although we are those adults with those experiences, we continue to foster positive growth and compassion for all, to be aware of our own feelings and their fluid context, as well as those of others, and encourage our girls to do the same. Our daughters remind us to look at extended family and friends and see wonderful human beings, people doing their personal best or trying to (including us), even if we don't always see eye to eye (and we sure as hell don't always see eye to eye), and every day our hearts and souls are a little fuller with them in our lives.

Even if it's only in little dashes year after year, like pinches of empathic cinnamon to keep our magical powers intact.

Even the Road Well-Traveled

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

--Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

That's when we decided to head to the hills on Black Friday. The big mountains actually -- the Sierra Nevada. It had been over 10 years since I'd been to Sequoia National Park, up above where I grew up in Visalia, California. Back then the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) and I had driven up past Hospital Rock to Moro Rock and then hiked the harrowing two miles around the huge dome-shaped granite to the top.

So, what to do on Black Friday? Going to the movies the day after Thanksgiving was scrapped by our family, and the Mama didn't want us sitting around on our duffs all day, and I didn’t want to be hanging around in stores or malls (although we did make our annual post crazy-crush morning Walmart run -- no judging, please), so my idea this instead was to go to Grant Grove and the General Grant tree, named the "Nation's Christmas Tree" in the 1920s by President Calvin Coolidge. It’s also honored as a living national shrine in memory of Americans lost during wars by President Dwight D. Eisenhower. I hadn't been there for decades, the last time my sister and I going with our grandparents. At that time they lived in the very small mountain community of Dunlap, just west of Kings Canyon National Park where Grant Grove is located.

We had gone to my sister's house for Thanksgiving again, but the day after she had to work on Black Friday, so it was just going to be the four of us. I mapped the way to the mountains on the computer and then my phone; there were two ways to get there, one a little faster than the other.

"We should go the faster way, Sweetie," the Mama said. "It's still going to be almost an hour and a half to get there."

I shook my head. "No, I want to go the way I know. It won't take that much longer."

The Mama shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked out her window. I knew she wanted to go the shorter way; she always wants to go the shorter way.

"Okay," she said.

"Do we have enough gas?" I asked, now not sure about the drive. "There aren't any gas stations in the parks."

"The gauge says we've got enough miles left in the tank. Let's go for it."

"Right on, Mama."

“Are we there yet?” the girls asked.

Thirty minutes later we inched along the long line of cars to enter the park. Obviously, we weren't the only ones with the idea to head to the hills.

Our first stop was at Hospital Rock, a place I had been too many times over the years. But I was itching to get to the General Grant tree. I wanted to see the Nation’s Christmas tree. I had to see it. Be in its historic and emotive presence with my family by my side. But not in the snow. Because we’re not snow people. (Thankfully it was a balmy 65 degrees.) And then take a picture of it. Share the love on Instagram and Facebook. I felt like Clark Griswold on an obsessive mission to see America’s Merry friggin’ Christmas tree, and I wanted to get there now.

“Let’s hurry up, girls. Daddy wants to go see America’s Christmas tree.”

“No, we’re going to make stops along the way if we’re going this way,” the Mama said. “Especially now that the girls can get their Junior Ranger badges.”

“But I want to see America’s Christmas tree.”

“Yes, we get it, Sweetie. Do they even decorate the tree?”

I thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Although it’s really pretty in the snow. Which we’ll never see, because we don’t do the snow.”

“Right. So, relax.”

Sigh.

“We’ll get there,” the Mama added.

“Yep, it’ll be a fun family adventure,” I said.

And as long as we get to that friggin’ tree, I thought.

Onward and upward we went – into Giant Forest, the smells of the high sierra coming in through the open windows, then past Moro Rock (the girls and I weren’t up for the heights of the hike), the General Sherman tree, Lodgepole, and finally a late lunch at the Wusachi Lodge. The thing you forget when you don’t drive in the mountains a lot is that it takes a lot longer to go from point A to point B – and the winding road can take its toll, which is why the Mama always has to drive on winding roads because she gets carsick. The girls must have her genes on that one because they were getting a little carsick, so the Mama emptied two plastic shops for vomiting just in case during one of our stops.

Fortunately, that didn’t happen and we made it to lunch. By that time the girls had finished their Junior Ranger workbooks, but we had to get to the Kings Canyon Visitor Center at Grant Grove Village by 4:00 PM for them to get their badges, and it was already after 3:00.

“We don’t have much time,” I said, knowing it would be close.

“It’s all right,” the Mama said. “If we make it, we make it. If not, then the girls will be fine. Completing the workbooks was fun enough for them and everything they saw.”

“Yep, a fun family adventure.”

“Exactly. We would have never done this otherwise.”

I winked. “I know, I haven’t been this way for decades. Not since my grandparents took my sister and me. And I get to see America’s Christmas tree!”

And then we were there with miles and miles to spare – making it in time to get the girls’ Junior Ranger badges and traverse our final loop hike to the General Grant tree, right as the sun was going down behind the mountains to fall into the sea where we live.

“Worth every minute,” I said.

“Yes, it was,” the Mama said.

“Did you have fun girls?”

“Yes,” they each answered, and then continued keeping each other company in the backseat.

As we drove back down into the foggy, smoggy Central Valley at sunset, I realized yet again what I’ve known for years: that even the road well-traveled, whether in our distant past or today's now, can make all the difference in this crazy-crush world. It's a matter of perspective, of seeing things again for the first time and with fresh nuance. These magical new experiences then imprint one after the other upon our cyclical consciousness. Many become lyrical and melodic, powerful memories that transcend time and stream on-demand like our favorite songs, anytime we want them, and anytime we need them.

As we drove deeper into the Great Valley dusk, my family holiday memories played all at once.

The New Old-Fashioned Way

“Rocking around the Christmas tree,
Have a happy holiday
Everyone dancing merrily
In the new old-fashioned way…”

—John D. Marks, American songwriter

The idea was to get in and out without any international incidents. With the Mama (my wife) out again for another Kidpower workshop, child relations were strained and still flammable. The opportunity to let the girls pick out one Christmas gift for each other separately just wasn't realistic based on our schedules, so I thought I'd take them to the toy store together, since we had all morning and early afternoon. The rain came down cold and steady outside, and I didn't have another plan at that point as to how I'd pull it off, but was confident we could brave the excursion. I'd frame it with a softer diplomacy than the sometimes hard line of Daddy Goat Gruff.

"Girls, how about we go to the toy store and we pick out Mommy's gift from the both of you. We know she wants a game, something we can all play together," I said.

"Yes!" they answered.

"Can we get something too?" Bryce asked.

Of course I knew this was coming, and right as I responded I noticed the purple canvas bag laying on the sofa table near the front door. "You can pick something out for each other, yes. Within reason. So while we are there, you each keep an eye out for one gift for each other. When you think you know, I'll put it in a bag so the other won't see it. Sound good?"

"Okay," they answered. I knew they didn't really get it.

"Why don't we bring this?" I said, holding up the toy store catalog that they'd already been through a dozen times, with 95 percent of the toys on every page circled over and over again with different colored pens.

"Yes!"

I knew they'd really get that.

We got ready and headed out into the rainy day. After we parked and entered the toy store, we passed a Toys for Tots donation booth. A nice woman working the booth handed me a small flyer and asked for any toy donations before we left the store.

"Girls, we're going to get an extra gift or two today for other children who may not get any gifts this Christmas season, okay?"

"Yeah!"

Maybe they got that, and/or they were thinking of only themselves, but I had them covered either way.

Once inside, the girls began their joyful journey. Bryce, the fearless exploder, began bouncing from one toy to the next, pointing and exclaiming how cool everything was. Beatrice, the reserved imploder, proceeded with gleeful caution, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of it all, like she was a toy in Al's Toy Barn from Toy Story 2.

"Now girls," I said, smiling big. "Take as much time as you need. I know daddy usually tries to hurry through the shopping experience, but this time take your time. Please."

"Okay, Daddy," Bryce said, not really listening.

Beatrice just smiled.

Aisle after aisle we trekked and talked and touched. Look at this! And look at that! Wow! Cool! At one point I got them to help me pick out their gift for the Mama, and then we continued on the glorious toy campaign.

Without one single tantraumatic meltdown the whole time. Yes, I just made that up.

After some gift options were identified by each girl for the other, I'd quickly misdirect and keep them huddled on one aisle oo-ing and ah-ing over various over-priced toys, while I scurried clandestine to one of the gifts they had picked out (with the $15-$20 cap, of course) and tucked it into my purple canvas bag next to the Mama's gift. After the second gift was tucked away, we roamed for another 10 minutes until I noticed a confused and pained look at Beatrice's face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You all done now? Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go home. I miss Mommy."

Yeah, I miss her too, Sweetie. Knowing we wouldn't see the Mama for another few hours, I misdirected again to the "Buy One Christmas Book Get One More Half Off" stand near the cash registers.

"Girls, each of you pick out one book for our Toys for Tots donation," I said, and then added, "Oh, and pick out one of those candy Troll toy things that you like."

Because I'm just a sucker dressed in Daddy Goat Gruff clothing.

As we checked out at one of the registers I told the toy store employee that I needed to keep the gifts in the bag so the girls wouldn't see what they had gotten each other. She smiled and told me no problem. It didn't seem to phase her and she rang everything up as if she dealt with this request all the time.

I had the girls give the books to the Toys for Tots volunteers when we left. They thanked us and I thanked them. As we drove home, I was happy that this little trip went as well as it did. I thought about running a few more errands on the way home, and realized that could've caused a global nuclear escalation, so decided against it. Amen for that.

We listened to Christmas music all the way home. I sang most of the lyrics and the girls bopped their heads along, chiming in when they knew the words. The girls were fascinated that I knew so many Christmas songs. Then one of the many iterations of "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree" came on the radio.

"Daddy, I like this song," said Beatrice.

"Yes, me too!" said Bryce.

"Yes, so do I, girls. Rocking around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday, everyone dancing merrily..."

It was a lovely time. Really. We rock-a-billied and sang and laughed all the way home. Fond memories of singing with my mother and family and friends during the holidays, decade after thankful decade going back to my childhood, wrapped themselves around my wary heart of late. I'd been so somber and insular, thinking only of myself and keeping my family safe and sound from what may or may not ever happen in the world around us. I hadn't been open to fully celebrating the joy of the holiday season, the joy and love of family and friends, a hopeful peace that's always meant so much to me not only at Christmastime, but each and every day -- everyone dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way.

Standing Up to Standing Down

One side wants the other to stand down. To acquiesce. To rollover. To not fight the good fight. History is full of the one-sided smack, usually a government, or a corporation, or a political party, or a cultural norm, or a religious or ideological movement, or some other form of precedented mob rule dominating over the masses, especially the disenfranchised. It's masked in the stance that, if we all come together on this, if you all just do as we say and wish, we'll all be the better for it. No one gets hurt. No harm, no foul. Normalize the rising tide so the rest of us can easily look away from the bodies buried in the sand, reasonable voices eventually drowned out. For a little while at least.

But for most of us, it takes a lot of focus and energy to keep our heads just above that waterline, fighting the everyday good fights for family and community. Those good fights being led by our own subjective voices of reason for a myriad of reasons, a hopeful array of daily disarray. There are so many movements to get behind and support, and yet I always come back to one -- domestic violence awareness and prevention.

Growing up, my sister and I witnessed my mother suffer continuous verbal and physical abuse. Her own parents (our grandparents) had told her repeatedly that she "made her own bed," that she married our birth father and needed to figure out how to make it work. That latter part we didn't know until years later, and while not out of the ordinary with the way families sometimes respond, it always hurt my heart that my loving, evangelical grandparents didn't give our mother more support early on. The domestic violence only escalated from that point on until she got us all out. A single mom with two little kids, no child support from our birth father, we were always one pay check from being homeless. Although I don't know what it was then, today according to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, domestic violence is the third leading cause of homelessness among families.

However, we did have help from families and friends, and our grandparents did eventually take a stand and help us as well. Not a moment too soon either because we went from one violent home to another before finally finding peace and love with the man I called dad from age 13 onward. Too many times my mom's life was in jeopardy. Too many times all our lives were in jeopardy. According to the National Network to End Domestic Violence, three women die everyday in the U.S. due to domestic violence.

United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon recently called on governments around the world to increase spending in areas that will empower women, help domestic violence victims, and prevent future abuse. This includes an expanded definition of violence against women and harsher consequences for non-physical violence such as stalking, harassment, emotional abuse, and verbal abuse -- something that the perpetrators of certainly want us to stand down from supporting.

Besides Kidpower, my wife (known as "The Mama" to my regular readers) has also gotten involved in women's rights issues of late due to the contentious election our country has endured. I call it "activate the Mama" in honor of her inspired activism and civic duty in support locally and nationally of the Women’s March on Washington. Their mission is to stand together in solidarity with our partners and children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our health, and our families -- recognizing that our vibrant and diverse communities are the strength of our country. 

Of course it's not without its critics, and the differences among the women involved are as diverse as the very nation they represent. However, they are standing up to standing down, and since we have two girls growing up in a world where civil rights may potentially be diminished, I couldn't ask for a better partner to help fight this good fight. We've even adopted a family from a local women's shelter this Christmas, a mother and her two young daughters, to give them gifts that they couldn't afford otherwise. It's a little something and every little something helps when you're struggling to live day to day.

Whatever positive movement you support locally and/or globally, get off the ground, activate your family and make a stand happen. Every little bit of positive change and sustenance can go a long, long way this holiday season and throughout the year, the special gifts that keep on giving.

The Blech with the Blessings Year Round

"I'm so excited for Christmas! I'm so excited for Christmas! I'm so excited for Christmas!"

Exclaimed Beatrice, excitedly.

"Me too!"

Echoed Bryce, excitedly.

And so it goes with our little girls at the holiday helm. The Christmastime magic is upon us, like a warm blanket on a cold winter's morn. We've actually had our share of frigid mornings recently here in Santa Cruz, with a cold snap leaving our cheeks and bums a chapped cherry red.

Just like ol' Kris Kringle, who the girls got to see this weekend at the downtown Christmas parade.  Santa rode by in his white carriage, pulled by two gorgeous steeds.

"Look, here comes Santa!" exclaimed the Mama and Daddy, excitedly. The girls bounced in place.

"Is that Santa's deer?" asked Beatrice as Santa approached.

"Reindeer? No, those are horses."

"Oh, yes," Bea said, and then laughed.

And there was 50% off giant candy! (See if you catch that one.)

Although, there is the little issue of not sleeping for Bryce, or more accurately, waking up at 3:00 am seemingly every other night, which we're told has more to do with neurological development than holiday magic. Bryce tip toes into our room and sits at the foot of the bed, talking just loud enough to herself for one of us to wake up and hear, and then she takes forever to get back to sleep. This happened with Bea, too.

Blech. Sleep deprivation just so happens to be an serial rite of parental passage from child to child. Bea wasn't so bad, but Bryce from 6-18 months about drove us both bonkers, awake nearly every hour and every night for months and months.

However, you take the belch with the blessings year round with kids. And there are certainly plenty of B's in our blessings around here.

This is why I'm thankful: my angelic muses carry with them a special kind of perpetual Christmastime magic.

And so does Daddy. Amen.

"I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite -- only a sense of existence." 

--Henry David Thoreau 

Thankful for My Muses and Christmastime Magic

This is why I'm thankful: my angelic muses carry with them a special kind of perpetual Christmastime magic. The kind that casts imperfections into unique heartmeld spells of empowered adaption and inspiration. The kind that lights the world around me like triple suns rising one after the other, helping me make life-lesson connections I never would've seen before. The kind that guide me to be a better father, a better husband, a better man.

Muse Bryce has a fire in her belly that dwarfs even the Mama Muse's daily motivation. Her first year of preschool has gone well so far, even with her aggressive edge of reactive smacking, something we're working on. We're also still dealing with her exotropia -- a vision problem where one eye migrates outward and binocular vision can be difficult. This includes putting an eye patch on her right eye for one hour per day, since her left eye is the problem child. Hopefully early next year we'll find out it's helped, but this doesn't seem to slow her down; her belly fire only burns brighter, a dissonant dragon of do.

Muse Beatrice has a wonderful shy sensibility and sensitivity to those around her. Even with her processing delays, which she continues to work on and overcome, her intellect and grasp of concepts greater than her current age at normal development speeds is exciting -- especially since kindergarten is starting next year. In fact, her storytelling ability is more creative and rich than ever had at her age, and I was certainly an imaginative introvert as a child. She also has an eye for flexible patterns and design, something conveyed in her storytelling, as if she's working through problems unseen even by us. And of course, there's her Daddy love of Christmas, one that warms my heart and soul, us both longing for the holiday.

The Mama Muse has always been my primary sun burning bright who's prescient flares caress my surface daily, reminding me that no matter how harsh and cold things can get, it's the warming reaction of sunrise that makes all the difference. I've known that for 16 years since the day we met that one special day at the beach, the same date when we married six years later (this year being the diamond 10 celebration). Plus, falling in love again and again doesn't hurt.

And then there's the Nonna Muse, my mother-in-law, the Mama's mom, who lives with us and is a blessing to the girls. And then there are the other  muses I celebrate -- my sister, my sister-in-law, my niece, my Aunt Karen and Aunt Margene, and the much missed spirt of my own mother, whom I lost this time last year. And then there's the countless other female family and friends from then to now who I've learned much from. (Gentlemen, I'm still digging your influence, no worries.)

I'm blessed to have so much inspirational light from girl power and am thankful for muses and everyday Christmastime magic that feel like the warm sand from one day at the beach.

Us men need mucho more musing. Amen.

Now and forever

We told Bea about heaven. In the simplest of definitions, with loving language and expository words used sparingly if at all.

The Mama had finally made it home from Oregon, but I was still here with my sister taking care of what had to be cared for. There I was, watching my family on FaceTime in front of our fireplace adorned with stockings and lit Christmas moon lights.

"What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down..."

Bryce babbled and ran back and forth across the camera's field of vision, calling for Nonna, and Nonna answered back softly. Beatrice stood in front of the couch while the Mama kneeled next to her. Bea held the little figurine of two mice that she fell in love with when we were up visiting my parents in June, Nana and Papa as all the grandkids knew them.

"Beatrice," the Mama said, "we want to tell you that Nana isn't sick anymore, that she's with Papa in a better place."

"Yes," I said.

The Mama continued. "Nana and Papa are now together in heaven where they will be forever."

"Nana and Papa are together," Bea echoed. "In heaven."

"Yes, sweetie. They love you very much and will always be with you."

As I said those words, I ached to believe them, as if my very presence in that moment depended on everything I learned as a child in the Nazarene Church -- the many pictures of smiling Christs, arms always draped lovingly around children of all colors and nations, set in a meadows on warm spring days.

"They will always be with you, Bea."

I watched as Bea's mind swirled and ticked, trying to understand what it all meant. She held the mouse figurine tightly and smiled. I took that as my answer.

For two people who've always questioned the edicts and redeeming value of conservative Christianity, the Mama and me were quite comfortable telling Bea about the coloring book version of heaven.

Because we believe we'll be together someday in a better place. Because we already are -- the Mama, me, the B-hive and our family and friends.

Heaven is being with those you love. To hell with everything else. Heaven is now; heaven is forever.

We love you, Mom and Dad. Now and forever. Merry Christmas.

So this holiday be a warm light to those who have little

"A very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Let's hope it's a good one without any fear." --John Lennon

 

We do our best to not map disturbing statistics onto ourselves, especially during the holidays. Instead we wish them back to the page or the mouths that spoke them, trying to forget them like speeding past dead things on icy dark roads.

But there are 4 women who live with me -- two adults and two girls (Mama, Nonna and the B-hive) -- and according to the CDC's National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS), 1 in 4 women have been the victim of severe physical violence by an intimate partner.

1 in 4.

In fact, on average, 24 people per minute are victims of rape, physical violence, or stalking by an intimate partner in the United States, according to new findings released by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

Over the course of a year, that equals more than 12 million women and men. Those numbers only tell part of the story – more than 1 million women are raped in a year, and over 6 million women and men are victims of stalking. These findings emphasize that sexual violence, stalking, and intimate partner violence are major public health problems in the United States. In addition, they underscore the heavy toll that violence takes on Americans, particularly women.

This violence affects women much more disproportionately than men, but is still equal opportunity. 1 in 7 men experienced severe physical violence by an intimate partner.

Nobody wants to live in fear; both men and women who experience this violence report­ more health problems. Female victims, in particular, have significantly higher rates of irritable bowel syndrome, asthma, frequent headaches and difficulty sleeping.

So this holiday be a warm light to those who have little and help generate awareness and prevention, donate money or gifts/toys to your local domestic violence shelters and women's centers, or volunteer your time.

Or, pamper yourself and your friends and loved ones while doing some good this holiday season without breaking the bank.

Spa Fundraiser has teamed up with The Pixel Project to bring you the Purple Pamper Package annual holiday-gift program. Each Purple Pamper Package spa certificate buys you a mini face-and-hand spa pampering session worth $150.00 for just $25.00 per certificate.

You can even double the charitable impact of the Purple Pamper Package spa certificate by donating a certificate to any of the thirty (30) women's shelters across the country so they can get pampered.

That's a warm light deal just in time for the holidays.

The Pixel Project is an innovative virtual volunteer-led non profit organization using social media and online strategies to turbo-charge global awareness about violence against women while raising funds and volunteer power for the cause.