To Be Empathic Allies

“Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.”

―Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

“We must accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope." 

―Martin Luther King, Jr

My wife Amy and I have always loved "end of the world" stories. When we first met, we discovered we had both read Lucifer's Hammer, a 1977 novel about a comet breaking apart and striking earth and the survival story afterwards, and still talk about it to this day. Then there was The Stand by Stephen King and The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and television shows like The Walking Dead (based on graphic novels), Station Eleven (based on a novel), The Last of Us (based on a video game), and The Handmaid's Tale (based on Margaret Atwood's novel, and now a little too close to home). Plus, many more novels, movies, and TV shows in between. 

Ultimately for us both it was less about the why of the end, no matter how horrible the aftermath, and more about the how of human perseverance and survival laced with empathy and love. As long as there was a thread of hope and love in the story with empathic protagonists, then it reaffirmed our own hopefulness and love for humankind. Of course, that was just as true for us in everyday nonfiction stories, too. 

Including reelecting a convicted authoritarian president (and a congress majority) who only leads with misogyny, racism, anger, and fear, reaffirmed again and again by constant misinformation and lies for the past decade. Over half the U.S. who supported him may disagree with that, and/or overlook it, and/or not care.

The world may or may not end with a cataclysmic bang because of this; maybe it'll only end in a whimper and we'll survive this real-life dystopian future that's coming. In the meantime, it's still soul-crushing to believe that so many of us are driven by that much grievance, anger, and fear. Because ultimately it was never about the price of eggs. That was simply an unfortunate by-product of supply-and-demand economics that most of us don't even understand or care to. 

We're all fallible, feeling beings who sometimes think, not the other way around. It's always been easier to have scapegoats, others to blame for our misgivings and misfortunes, but history has shown again and again how this all ends. That's what worries me the most. Not the end of America or World War III, but the more immediate danger of a newly empowered harassment and violence escalation against women, the LGBTQ+ community, people of color, immigrants, neurodivergent people, people of different religions, and empathic allies like my wife, our children, and me (and many of you). The targets on our backs have never been bigger. And it's not just coming -- it's already here. 

Thankfully a dear friend reminded me that we do need to continue to fight the good fight on the ground in the communities where we live. To be empathic allies who lead with love, hope, and understanding and help ensure basic human rights and safety equity for all. And that's exactly what we're going to do. Blessings to us all. 

We Can Do It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Across The Middle Spectrum

Ironically our family was at the amusement park called Great America when the assassination attempt happened. Someone had shot former President Trump in the ear at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania. Multiple rounds were fired, and the shooter also killed another bystander and critically wounded two others. 

We discussed briefly as a family about why violence like this is never okay, whether you support the candidate or not. Afterwards I worried about what might happen now. Just like when I watched the violent protests after George Floyd's murder and the January 6 insurrection unfold.

Will there be more violence after this assassination attempt? If so, when and where? I thought about all this as I watched the diverse group of families pass back and forth. Groups of teens also walked past us, laughing and teasing each other, not thinking about the adult world breaking down. If any of them had heard the news, no one seemed to be worried about it. 

I remember when I was a teen President Reagan was shot. I also remember how upset my parents got, too. But what I don't recall was the polarizing political hatred we have today. I mean, there's always been a liberal-conservative divide, but I wasn't paying as much attention back then because I was only 15 years old. Our teens are the same age now, and although I'd argue they're more aware than Amy and I were, they're still teens whose attention spans move on quickly. 

Letting our fear of extremism dictate our lives and where we go and what we do isn't the answer, because that's not living; that's not freedom. But I also can't imagine living in a country where my family must be wary about what we believe and who we support and what we share publicly for fear of being targeted, attacked verbally and/or physically, or even jailed or killed. Although, it does feel like we're on the messy fringe of that now in America. After the assassination attempt, we keep hearing from other leaders that there's no place for this kind of violence in America, and yet, here it is.

So, in today's America, we live in a polarized ideological nightmare. You're either with us or against us. Of God or against. Republican or Democrat. Independent or apathetic. Too conservative or too liberal. Too old or too young. Too black or too white. Too straight or too gay. Too rich or too poor. Very right or very wrong.

And it all feels very wrong when we have to worry about the safety for all of us, adults and kids, across the middle spectrum. Instead of blaming the other side, are we willing talk with one another and work together to figure out how to empathize, compromise, co-exist, and ultimately govern in a way that underscores how our very nation was established on the premise that all of us are created equal? That as American citizens we can all celebrate the rights of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness"? Can we convince the polarized extremes to do the same after discounting others deemed not worthy?

Can we? That's an aspirational wish I wish we all could reengage and reinvest in, because for me, that was always the idea for the great United States of America experiment, and one we try to impart on our children. That "we hold these truths to be self-evident," which evidently, many do not. Blessings to us all anyway. 

All These Things Can Lead to Grace

We had watched Serpico together, the real-life story of a NYPD office who went undercover to expose corruption in the police force from 1960 to 1972. Our family always watched police dramas together, nonfiction and fiction alike. My sister and I were in high school, and at that time, our father was a police detective responsible for forgery and fraud, and our mother was the police dispatch supervisor. 

After watching Serpico, I remember asking my dad if there were any bad cops in our hometown police department. He paused, then gave me this answer:

"Well, son, there are good cops, and there are bad cops, just like there are good bakers and bad bakers. Unfortunately there are always some who don't play by the rules and hurt others. But for us, yes, there are mostly good cops."

I responded, "But bad bakers don't kill other good bakers, or other people."

My dad smiled and nodded. "You are correct, son. You are correct. They do not. Not usually."

They never do. They just go out of business, I thought.

Our dad wasn't without his own biases, or our entire family for that matter, but time and again while he was alive and after he passed away, and after 32 years on the force, good guys and bad guys alike couldn't help but like him. He taught us a lot empathy, inclusion and forgiveness, even when it wasn't intentional. Our mom did the same. They both loved their families and God. 

And then in the summer of 2012 he was gone, and four months later she was gone. It's hard to imagine them here today, in the middle of pandemic with all the health issues they used to have, of what we'd have to do to care for them. 

But I do want them both here today -- I know my sister does as well. I want my dad to be here and to tell me why there are still bad cops doing the wrong things in our communities. Why they hate so much and keep using such excessive force killing black and brown men and women. Why supposedly good cops stand by and do nothing. Why so many of them are never arrested or prosecuted. Why so many police reforms are never sustained. Why the normalcy of racism in this country continues.

The recent killing of George Floyd by a white police officer who kneeled on his neck until he stopped breathing, has incited protests and violence across the U.S. This because George Floyd, an unarmed African American had supposedly tried to use a counterfeit bill at a convenience store. George Floyd, one more name in a sea of names that, when I think about, I couldn't name, other than Ahmaud Arbery. He was another unarmed black man who was jogging and then chased by two white men and gunned down because they said they were trying to make a citizen's arrest, when there is no such thing. 

Thankfully there are those who help us remember, like the daughter of an old friend from high school who created a poster with all the names. 

I want my dad (and mom) here today to help answer the why questions, because I struggle to answer them for my own daughters. My wife and I have be teaching our girls about slavery and how people of color have been treated poorly throughout American history since they were little. 

Both girls listened and ask legitimate questions like "why would people do that" over and over, questions that aren't hard for us to discuss, but hard for us to answer being a white family who have not experienced systemic discrimination like non-whites have in this country for hundreds of years. Which is why, at the end of the day, my dad probably wouldn't be able to answer them either, no matter how hard he tried. White supremacy is the legacy of the modern day police force and it needs a bigger condemnation than "good cops and bad cops," and more serious reforms than have fizzled out to date. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, I just wish we would've gone deeper on this subject together. 

The other day I told my daughters about George Floyd and what's been happening in our country. They didn't know because we don't watch the news with them. 

"I don't understand why skin color matters!" said Beatrice, after I finished.

"I know," I said. 

"They just need to get over it!" said Bryce.

"Who?"

"White people." 

Wow, Bryce. Sadly, that's the argument made by too many whites today, that they have nothing to do with racism, that black and brown people have more rights than they do, that they need to get over it, especially if all they're going to do is burn everything down. This continues to be the dividing sentiment of the day. 

Thankfully my wife works for Kidpower and I'm so glad that Kidpower community reminded me of their commitment to safety and justice for all: 

At Kidpower, we believe that everyone has the right to safety, respect, peace, and justice. We are heartbroken about the suffering and tragedy caused by racist attacks and discrimination against people of color in our communities, at our borders, and around the world. We will continue to speak out and take action to protect and empower all people. 

Yes, continue to speak out and take action to protect and empower all people. Always.

But then I also keep thinking about the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. quote someone posted on my Facebook wall that ended: 

Riot is the language of the unheard.

I am privileged. I am biased. I am white. I am male.

I empathize. I sympathize. I fight the good fight. 

Everyone has the right to safety, respect, peace, and justice. 

I hope that Minneapolis police officer is prosecuted and locked up for the rest of his life, and that the officers who were with him are arrested as well. 

I'm tired of the commentary that includes, "Well, I don't like what happened to that black man, but I don't agree with violent protests."

I don't agree with them either; our family has been a part of many peaceful protests. Those committing the current violence in our communities and looting and destroying businesses should also be held accountable. So many business were already on the brink of bankruptcy because of COVID-19. And one of my employees and his wife and family live not more than a mile from the violence in Minneapolis. 

My sister was also a police officer for many years, and we both still have friends and family who are in law enforcement, good people who's lives are now in danger.  

But, imagine being subjected to 400+ years of institutionalized systemic racism and violence. Of being afraid of walking down the street and being harassed by the police because you're a black or brown male. 

Then imagine bringing a bazooka or an assault rifle into a sandwich shop or a state's capital building. Of law enforcement not doing a thing about it because you can, and because you're white. 

I want to be part of positive change. I don't want my city burned down.

I empathize. I sympathize. I fight the good fight. 

And I miss my mom and dad. I miss talking with them about life and current events that affect us all, even if we didn't always agree on them. Our girls didn't get a chance to know them like I wanted them too, since they were so young when my parents passed away. 

What we did agree on was the fact that positive change starts with our children and grandchildren. That we should teach them compassion, empathy, forgiveness, inclusion and understanding. All these things can lead to grace, a new normalcy desperately needed today. 

Let's Go All In on Them Instead of Hate

“Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway…”

—Rush, Half the World

It was simple, to just have some fun. That's all I wanted us to do that night at soccer practice, including me. I'm the coach, yes, but we needed to play and run around and be a little chaotic. Not hurtful chaotic, just playful chaotic. We raced during dribbling drills. I set up a defensive exercise that turned into a wild scatter-ball chase. Then we scrimmaged and cheered each other on until twilight forced us to wrap it all up, everyone sweaty, tired and full of beaming smiles. It was cathartic for us all, even their parents nervously watching and waiting on the sidelines, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

The girls didn't talk about it, although one did ask who I voted for. I told her it was a personal decision, and then told her who it was anyway, and she frowned and ran back to play. I never asked for clarity as to why.

Half our world felt marginalized and left behind; half our world feels marginalized and left behind; half our world blames the other. The anger and resentment is real and we've made it okay to hate and hurt again.

Although that's not exactly true, the last part, because the hate and the hurt of scapegoating have never really left us...

Through all the laughter and running around, that's all I could think about during practice, like basking in the sunshine of a clear blue sky 10 feet from a neglected landfill. Regardless of who you voted for in this presidential election, we've again opened an angry wound America has struggled to heal for a long, long time. Too many of us during this campaign accepted bullying behavior and hateful rhetoric, especially from a candidate where half our world went all in on and who is now our national leader.

Sadly, the violent reactions to either side played out before the election and continue to play out now. Hostile acts and protests are rearing their ugly heads across this nation, and even though we're hopers and doers, the Mama and I feel it's only going to get worse before it (hopefully) gets better.

I did try to inject a little levity between us by telling her we read and watch way too many end-of-world stories. She laughed. A little. But we're still worried about what's to come. We admit we feel hoodwinked, gut punched, even assaulted by where our country is now. We don't all have to like where we're at and can voice our opinions about it without violence or hate, because it is still America after all. Half our world tells us that's extreme, that we should get over it, but in all transparency, we won't sit silent for any bullying or violence from either half.

Our girls only gleaned a cursory insight as to what's happened so far and we've done our best to explain what's going on without sharing too much of the violent acts while telling them we'll keep them safe. Thankfully the wisdom and skills we've gained from Kidpower, the global nonprofit leader in personal safety and violence prevention education, have emboldened our empathy, positive strength and safety in our lives.

The founder and executive director of Kidpower, Irene van der Zande, again shared Kidpower's values statement about Inclusion this week (and not a moment too soon):

"We welcome people of any age, culture, religion, race, gender, political belief, nationality, sexual orientation or gender identity, marital status, any kind of disability, or level of income who share our commitment to integrity and safety for everyone and who can join us in upholding our values."

The angry wound forever festers, but we have to get on with it now to make a difference. The Mama and I know it's not all rainbows and unicorns and never has been, but we're not pushovers either -- we will protect our family no matter what. We will also wear the safety pins that say, "If you feel that you're in danger, you're safe with us, no matter what." This is is clear tenet of the Kidpower Protection Promise, that we can and should make to the kids and adults in our lives.

This is on us all now. Let’s do what we can to transform our fear of bullying, violence and abuse into a future of lifelong safety and success. Our children are the most precious resource that we have today, so let's go all in on them instead of hate.

Learning How to Take the Lead and Play Forward

Photo courtesy of Paul Turner

And then she asked me again. "Can I play goalie?"

I took a mental beat and said, "Listen, everybody plays every position on our team. I promise you'll play goalie, but not today. You'll play other positions today."

She wasn't done. "I can't play forward. I not very good at. Please don't make me play forward."

"You're going to play forward."

She gazed out over the soccer field. The game was to start in a few minutes. "I tried to play it last year and I was just too slow. Please don't make me play it."

I took another beat. "Again, everybody rotates on our team so we can learn all the positions. You'll only have to play forward for a few minutes and then I'll move you to defense."

"How long is a few minutes?"

"A few minutes."

"But how long is a few minutes exactly?"

"How about at least six minutes?"

"How about three?"

"No, at least six or seven minutes."

"Ugh. Okay."

"Thank you. Now let's play some soccer."

And so it went with one of my players. And she did a much better job than what she'd give herself credit for. She really did. As did all the girls on our team -- The Blue Flames. Yes, I'm coaching soccer again this year. U10 recreational soccer this time, my team made up of 12 eight and nine-year-old girls including my oldest, Beatrice. We played our first game, and while I'm not really supposed to keep score (again), I do, of course ('cause we won).

But my first priorities coaching are otherwise. I look forward to practicing soccer fundamentals and teamwork and having fun, fun, fun no matter what level their girls are at. That's why everyone will always get a chance to play every game and rotate positions throughout the season. A big plus is that we have really involved parents that feel the same way.

I have such fond memories of playing sports as a child and throughout junior high and high school with many a great coach in my past. Coaches who wanted me to learn new skills and to safe play and teamwork and leadership and to aspire to greatness, no matter my level of play. My own daughter has improved dramatically since last year and is no longer timid in the heat of the moment, kicking and dribbling the ball like it's nobody's business.

The fact that we're free to do this safely on a Saturday morning isn't lost on me, especially on a day later like today in America, the 15th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. And it's not just because of attacks themselves, which were horrific enough for us all then and now, but also the fact that imperfect but necessary democracies like our own are constantly under siege abroad and at home.

Why am I segueing to this dark day in our nation's history? Because I can't get the children out of my head. The children here in America and those around the world whose very lives have been irrevocably changed and those whose very lives are in constant jeopardy every day due to violence, terrorism, war and genocide.

Like the children of those lost on 9/11, where over 3,000 killed and 6,000 injured on that day. Like the children in Allepo, a city in Syria, the epicenter of the worst humanitarian crisis in recent history and a civil war that's killed hundreds of thousands of people over the past five years. Unfortunately this list goes on and on.

God bless them all -- those children lost to violence and those who lost their families to violence and those young and old who live with the memories of it all. Like many of you out there, I'm a hoper and a doer, I really believe we can and do make a positive difference in our children's lives and those around the world. This is again why I support Kidpower, the global nonprofit leader in personal safety and violence prevention education, and September is International Child Protection Month.

It still starts with us, in countries like ours, where we're relatively free to live our own lives and speak our own minds, to challenge the status quo when necessary and to compromise when we need to unify and show true leadership. Where we're able to talk about what happened and why, and where we can still rise above and make a difference for our friends and family, our neighbors down the street and across this great country. We can create the incremental improvements that truly are the catalysts of positive change and progress for our own children, and for others around this fragile world.

Because I want to be able to coach a recreational soccer team of eight and nine-year-old girls who play on Saturday mornings with family and friends cheering us on. Where the only comfort zone the players need to push themselves out of is learning how to take the lead and play forward, not fearing for their very lives.

Back on the Bull Like They Own the Beast

"Are those the good people?"

I don't even remember what Beatrice and I were watching, but it was age-appropriate and her question was a good one.

"Yes, they are."

"Why are they doing that to the other people?"

I opened my mouth and hesitated. Because they're the bad guys, I thought. But was that really the right answer? The bad guys actually included some girls, too. Plus, the word bad is so subjectively loaded that, even for a six-year-old, I would end up simply over-simplifying it and stereotyping it. 

For example, the world is much more complicated than that: Was it bad that if I had no other affinity or closeness with other family or friends, homeless and starving, and only a terrorist faction comforted me, providing food, a safe haven and security while systematically convincing me, a young girl, that those people over there were the real bad ones? And then shortly thereafter shooting those people right on the street, or even in their own homes? Or strapping wired explosives to my body to blow myself up in the local bazaar, or the neighborhood church, or an abortion clinic, or whatever. 

Well, was it bad? It's not good or right, but bad?

But I said it anyway, because she is only six. "Because they're the bad guys, and the good ones are stopping them."

"Stopping them why?"

From doing bad things. "From hurting the good people. Most people are good in this world, Beatrice. But there are some people who just want to take things from others and hurt them because they're really unhappy or angry or believe they're doing the right thing, and will do whatever they have to do to get what they want."

Wait, what? I didn't expect this impromptu and dichotomous sociological questioning in that moment watching a children's show, although I shouldn't have been surprised either, since Beatrice's awareness and insight have been expanding dramatically. 

I quickly added, "Sometimes good people do bad things when they're angry or sad or believe in something that's not quite right, and then sometimes are very sorry about it."

Silence. Then, "Oh, okay." And we were back to watching the show.

Not sure where all my babbling went with her. Of course we've had and continue to have the stranger-danger talks with both girls, and it's not okay to bully or be bullied talks, and the stay where I can see you talks, and the who can be in the bathroom with you talks, and the who can help you get dressed talks, and the how do you dial 9-1-1 talks, and the what is your address and phone number talks, and what to do if you get separated from us talks. All of the above and more.

However, the world is becoming more peaceful, believe it or not. Unfortunately media messiahs prey on our fears daily, skewing our world views. I've read multiple accounts the past few years of parents today remembering yesterday when they were children and ran around outside, without parental supervision, and walked, rode bikes or took city transit to school and back again. My sister and I did. Now many of us no longer let our children do the same, especially if we don't have to.

I'm not suggesting there aren't bullies, bad guys and girls out there still, because there are. Even with tethers intact, the Mama and I are teaching our girls to be bold yet aware, to protect themselves but not live in fear, to keep getting back on the bull like they own the beast, horns held tightly in hands.