Getting the Part

Disappointment can feel like a tragic fall from sky-high expectations. The realization impact is what hurts the most and it guts us -- that the person you like doesn't like you back, or trying out for the sports team and not making the cut, or the part in the play you auditioned for that you don't get, or the job you really felt you were qualified for that you don't get, or the promotion you really felt you were qualified for that you don't get. 

The one about not getting the job you want is something that our teens haven't experienced yet. Only our oldest Beatrice has had a paying job the past two years, and was also promoted in year two, as a paid summer camp counselor. Our youngest Bryce can't wait to get a part-time job next summer. 

Both our kids played recreation soccer for years (with me as their coach for many of them), and then in middle school they tried out for and made the team. Both were solid players with good fundamental skills. The clique competitiveness wasn't for them, though, which outweighed the joy they derived from playing. That's when music and theater became their go-to participatory "sports".

Pre-covid both kids participated in a sweet theater troupe called Musical Mondays. They got to play a variety of roles, which was so much fun to watch their fun. Bryce participated in another theater program after that, but like in soccer, the clique competitiveness was too much. But choir was different in middle school for Bryce, who got to perform solos with a tentative but growing confidence. 

Now both our teens are in high school choir and theater and loving them because. The environment is still competitive, but much more inclusive and supportive. However, the disappointment of auditioning and not getting the roles they want is painfully real. It sucks, especially when they have experience and they practiced the roles beforehand. 

Some would say, "Well, that's life, and it's only going to get more competitive, and there will always be winners and losers." And that's true. There will be those who are stellar at what they do because of their abilities. There can also be bias, favoritism, nepotism, and privilege that help propel them. 

A certain amount of "putting yourself out there" and competitiveness is helpful character building. It can incrementally improve confidence and fuel the passion and the willingness to take a chance for something we want to do or be and like to do or be. Liking and wanting are important fulfillment companions, but wanting without liking can be just frustrating and self-loathing as never taking a shot in the first place. Thank you Rick Hanson and your Foundations of Wellbeing course.

We must be able to process and learn from not getting what we want (the part, the job, the position, etc.), from the disappointment that can gut us. Training or no training, practice or no practice, innate talent or aspirational talent, favoritism or fairness, it still all sucks when it doesn't work out for us. How we grapple with this disappointment, reassess what we liked and wanted and what we want to do now, understand what ultimately generates joy for us, and how we move forward without fear of judgment or self-judgment, are the only things we have control over.

Our hearts ache when our children ache with disappointment. We can't protect them from that; they have to go through it. However, getting to the other side of it and feeling grounded and confident to keep going is what's critical and what we've worked to impart on them. 

As parents, we’re proud of them and grateful they continue to explore their passions. The good news is that they're both getting the part where, no matter what happens, they hold their heads high and are proud of who they are and what they're capable of. They prioritize the joy in what they do while empathizing with others who don't. 

The Greatest Return on Fatherhood and the Future

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

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

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

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

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

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

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