On Happily Doing Their Own Fancy Dances

“All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain…”

—Blind Melon, No Rain

We went out into the rain three times over three hours. Each time wearing our rain jackets and our rain boots, Bryce and me with socks on and Bea without. They bounded up and down our one-way street flooded gutter while I watched and called out when cars approached. They jumped and splashed and smiled and laughed. I jumped and splashed and smiled and laughed.

All of us stir crazy, yes, and the fact that our girls just love playing outside in the rain, the first big rain of our ever warmer and drier California dreamin'-scape. The Mama was away doing a Kidpower workshop, so with Daddy daycare in full swing, and the living room floor already littered with nearly every toy in the house, playing outside on a rainy day was the only way to go. We also made milk carton boats to sail down the gutter and that was a big hit (and something fun I remember doing when I was their age).

And as I watched my girls bound and splash and float their boats, I smiled big over and over, because so far so good with them "dancing as if no one is watching." Plus, not caring even if someone was. Each girl differentiating further from one another every single day with the one common thematic thread of being who they are, of being comfortable in their own still pliable skin. As we all know, that is always a work in progress, and yet, they're already light years ahead of my struggles at the same age.

Proudly the Mama has also launched a Girl Scout troop recently, for both Daisies and Brownies based on the ages of our girls and their school friends. For those who don't know, the Girl Scout mission is all about building courage, confidence and character and to help make the world a better place (fun facts: the majority of the women in the U.S. Senate and the House of Representatives were Girl Scouts, and every female American astronaut to date has been a Girl Scout -- I did not know).

All these things weren't lost on me recently when work traveling, first going to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio, and then a quick trip to Las Vegas -- all full of people, women and men alike, making their own way while flying their own freak flags. Of course I'm not condoning the debauchery, just the spirit of individuality, entrepreneurial rebellion and celebrating inclusivity and teamwork (like my favorite band -- can you guess who that is?).

There's always an edge to finding your own way and becoming yourself, then being your best self and sustaining it. That's the edge we hope we're helping our girls with. I thought about that as I sat eating dinner overlooking the Vegas strip, watching the buzzing throngs of crazy fly by. As I ate and watched, some of my favorite rock songs played overhead and Blind Melon's "No Rain" came on, a big hit from 1992/93.

Not hearing that song for some time prompted me to later watch the music video online, because I vaguely remembered it tell a story of a "bee girl" doing her own dance and being made fun of. She wanders aimlessly alone until she finds a beautiful grassy knoll under blue sky where many other bee people are happily doing their own fancy dances -- and happily joins in their fun.

As I watched it I thought, Bring on the rain, baby. Bring on the rain. #BhivePower indeed.

The Part When Freedom Rings

“Alternating currents force a show of hands
Rational responses force a change of plans
Anything can happen…”

—Neil Peart (now an American Citizen, by the way)

The girls listened as we explained why we celebrate the 4th of July.

"Do you know what country we live in?" I asked.

"Santa Cruz," Beatrice answered.

"No, that's the city we live in. The country we live in is --"

"California!"

Not surprising coming from young kids who experience the literal "now" and frame their responses accordingly. Even with the traveling we've done to date, the answer a few weeks ago would've been New York.

We went on to give then a very brief, high-level overview of the United States of America, sans the Revolutionary War for now, but including the fact that it's 239 years old and July 4 is its birthday.

"Is that as old as the world?"

"No, the world is billions of years old."

"Wow," Bea said, not really getting the span of geological time. Bryce had already moved on to something else.

Beatrice will start 1st grade this year and soon will begin the standardized learning of American history and beyond. Thankfully they're both still too young to fully experience the institutionalized crazy American politics has become (and actually always has been), but they are old enough to have experienced community generosity here at home and elsewhere. They've met many decent Americans from diverse backgrounds who are personally responsible citizens. No matter how viscerally frayed, thankfully the fringe on either end doesn't affect the B-hive.

At least, not yet. For the Mama and I, we revel in the fact that we live in a country where we can still "turn the channel" from detrimental viewpoints and content (in our opinion). And we can freely share our own beliefs in live and virtual forums where others can nod in agreement, responsibly disagree, or turn the channel as well. This and voting can be important catalysts for change, although economists argue that our individual votes don't really make a difference, so why do we vote, but individually the aggregate can make for very powerful and inspiring motivation.

We also pride ourselves in staying informed as much as possible, reading reputable "in the middle and a little to the left" mostly objective media outlets and listening to and/or watching the like (for me, that's NPR, hands down), and not simply overreacting when misinformation floods the social channels as it so often does (and I've gotten swept away in more than once).

Being an informed citizen free to agree or disagree, and/or participate or not in the divisive social and political rhetoric, but always participating in the betterment of society through responsible personal leadership, family, community and country and of course inspired action -- that's the part we want to live everyday.

The part when freedom rings and the independence and individuality empowers the rights of others who feel the same. The part we'll continue to celebrate and instill in our girls while negating hate, prejudice and oppression. The part when we acknowledge equality, regardless of sexual preference.

And then there's the reality that, while they may not be able be able to be whatever they want when they grow up, we do still live in a country where opportunity aspires to these ends and there's resiliency in that American economic magic.

Heck, there still may be gold in them thar hills...

The Truth About Manning Up

“Love is born with solar flares
From two magnetic poles
It moves towards a higher plane
Where two halves make two wholes…”

–Neil Peart

Early in 1998, she left a clear directive: I want to be with you, but take care of your business, or I'm out.

It was more heartfelt and elegant than that of course, but I remember distinctly how they made me feel as I read her letter while overlooking the Pacific: like a matter-of-fact slap, one that was a long time coming, one that left a chilling burn. The wind cold, the sea cold, my heart a cold rock released from its cliff mooring to sink below the unsettled surface.

I stood in the same place that more than a half a year earlier I'd stood when I realized this was the place I'd live, only months later to meet the Mama on the beach in October 1997.

Then on to early '98 again and slipping below the surface, when the reality of my unfinished past life haunted us both. Separated, but not yet divorced, still tethered to a unhappy life I no longer wanted (and would still take a few years to unravel from), it was time to reconcile my life at that point, to man up and take care of business so the future Mama and me could have a happy life.

And we did; and we do. But I have always had time with happy, and I still sometimes allow myself to be released from my cliff mooring, the unforgiving gravity skewed by my misunderstanding of what manning up really means. 

In the above context it just means taking responsibility of one's life, of the things we have control over and can change for the better. When we do, it's freeing, uplifting, Zen-like, slowing the natural erosion of things to an imperceptible crawl.

Then there's the context of social mores and traditional, gender-specific roles that we've grown up with. Unfortunately it's the old-fashioned "manning up" ones that I get caught up in much more so than the pragmagical Mama. We're pretty together people overall, but we're still fallible and breakdown once and a while, and I for one am haunted by self-inflicted emasculation.

Take for example when our friggin' dishwasher broke recently. At least, we thought it was broken. Water wasn't spraying inside. We had no idea why. We did have it serviced a couple of years ago and decided that now that it was almost 10 years old, we'd buy a new one. But then the Mama thought we should just have it fixed again. I still thought we should buy one. Then I thought we should get it fixed, and then she thought we should buy a new one. Then we were both on board with buying a new one, the Mama researching new ones and delivery and installation costs.

I thought that was that, but that wasn't it. The Mama watched a YouTube video about what might be wrong with the dishwasher and then proceeded to fix it. And fix it she did. It worked like a champ. Too bad I couldn't say the same for myself. 

Instead of celebrating the fact that she saved us hundreds of dollars, I got frustrated, Daddy Goat Gruff style. I gave her a hard time the whole time by suggesting we should just buy the new one, and what happens if it breaks again, and what happens if it leaks water all over the kitchen. I was basically a dick, true to my gentrified chromosomal heritage.

This wasn't the first time I've acted this way when the Mama enlists her economical pragmatic magic. The struggle for me is the fact that I feel like I'm "manning down" when I don't get to the fix first, when I'm not taking care of business for her and the family. It makes no never mind to the Mama as long as somebody does. Not because I'm a man and she's a woman. Just because it gets done. 

There are things I've never cared to know about and don't ever care to learn about today. Things I don't care ever to invest the time to understand how they work and how I might fix them. I'd rather find someone who knows how to do it and pay them to do it. The Mama on the other hand prides herself in saving a dollar by trying to learn how to do it herself.

And that's okay either way when you "man up" to make it work. Since our beginning we strived to embrace each other with open arms, while arming each other with life skills to thrive together. We wrote our own vows based on mutual respect, but we were never about two becoming one, we were all about two halves that make two wholes, reveling in our individuality and differences just as much as our shared values.

As it was. As it is. As it always should B.