A Brighter Fiscal Future

Our annual property taxes arrived. I hesitated to open the envelope because I didn't want to see the total. Yes, it's a beautiful area where we live, but it's also one of the most expensive places to live in the U.S., for four years running, primarily due to housing costs (whether you purchase or rent). However, property taxes fund essential community services and public infrastructure, just like taxes at all levels of government are supposed to do.

When I opened the envelope, Beatrice stood near me and asked me what it was. So, I told her and showed her. She literally gasped. "That's a lot of money," she said.

"It is," I said. "But we're grateful to have this house." Because there was a time when we almost let it go. We haven't told them that story yet. 

She understands the value of money and finances better than she ever has for a young adult and even has a required personal finance course in her high school this semester (now required in California). We've started an investment account for her and her sibling Bryce. Beatrice has added to it with her own summer camp money she's earned the past few years. Bryce will to when they get a part-time job next year, we hope. 

Bryce has a much different relationship with money than Beatrice has, even though we've tried to instill a savings and a live-within-your-means mentality in both. Beatrice saves more while Bryce likes to spend more. We'll have to keep working on that one. 

The reality is that both kids are moving into the adulting zone. Bryce still has two and half more years of high school, but Beatrice is graduating high school this year and then will be off to college. Which will mean leaving on her own, with roommates, buying and cooking her own food (because going out will break the bank), and paying more of her own bills. Yes, we'll help both kids in college, but there are still financial responsibilities they'll have to manage. Financial aid and student loans, for example. If they open up their own credit card, they'll have to learn to not run a monthly balance, to pay it off each month. 

In college, I started a bad habit of running up credit cards and paying only the minimum payments, which barely touched the principal. That culminated in a disastrous financial reset 10 years later. Lots of lessons learned then that we want to impart on our kids when they're out doing their adulting. And even if they were to come back and live with us for a period of time, something that's quite common for young people these days in the current job market and economic uncertainty. 

It wasn't until I met Amy that I got myself back on track financially. We've both worked hard to save for retirement and for college as many families do. Yes, the markets have been crazy high with returns, but, with the backdrop of high inflation, high healthcare, high everything, combined with so much grift and corruption around us in big business and government, and the U.S. debt hitting 40 trillion and a debt-to-GDP ratio of 126%, I'm not sure what the future holds for our children. Or, their children if they choose to have them. 

We'll keep plugging away and instilling financial responsibility in our kids no matter what because we still believe in endless possibilities and manifesting a brighter fiscal future. The scarcity alternative just won't pay the bills. 

Dinner and a Show

It was the best anniversary yet. On the eve of 29 years from one day at the beach when we met, both of us still recovering from the flu, Amy and I had dinner at one of our favorite local taquerias and then went to a show.

Not just any show -- our kids' closing performance of This Murder Was Staged, a hilarious whodunnit with over-the-top characters and plot twists throughout.

Our oldest Beatrice directed from the balcony during the show. Our youngest Bryce co-starred and delivered some funny and acerbic lines. 

And there was nowhere else on Earth we'd rather be. 

Early on in our relationship, Amy and her mother surprised me with dinner and a show in Half Moon Bay. We saw It's a Wonderful Life, one of my favorites. It's about a man reminded how loved and supported he is by his family and friends, and why he's the "richest" man in town. Makes me cry every time.

That's something I've more than related to over the years, thankfully having many more highs than lows, especially after I met Amy. Early on in our relationship, I was far from soul-centered, but I knew I was on the right path with Amy. Like in Dante's The Divine Comedy, I traveled through hell and purgatory to find my muse at the beach during El Niño '97. She's been guiding me through paradise ever since.

Our vows include why we celebrate the miracle of our choices (a version of which was from the cover of a journal Amy had given to me early on) and the fact that we always choose "us". Us now including our children, part of our choice miracles of the past 18 years. 

I've written many times about the fact that each night at dinner we all share what we're grateful for. It doesn't matter what it is. And even if one of us is not feeling grateful in that moment for whatever reason, we give them the grace to find something. Because there's always something. Always. 

Again, on the eve of our anniversary, and before our kids' last performance, Amy and I went to one of our favorite local taquerias. During dinner we shared how grateful we were for all of "us". After the performance concluded, we waited for our kids to come out into the auditorium lobby so we could celebrate them. 

We're grateful for 29 years of dinner and a show. Our show. Encore!

Brilliantly Staged

Moving the hands of the clock back and forth was a nice touch. There were multiple flashbacks and flash-forwards in the play, so this old-school entertainment time-travel mechanism worked well. Both my wife Amy and I were tickled each time one of the cast members moved the clock hands in between scenes.

This was the fall high school play that our oldest Beatrice directed and her sibling Bryce co-starred in. This one was accelerated, though. Usually, auditions and rehearsals start in late August and run until late October. But due to some scheduling conflicts with other school activities, the play had to open in early October, which was my birthday weekend.

The play is called This Murder Was Staged and is a murder-mystery comedy that was first published in 2024. Beatrice was on the high school theater committee that selected the play and then volunteered to direct, something she had never done before. Both our kids have been involved in theater for years, but this was something else to direct the play. Bryce was really stressed during auditions because they wanted a bigger role, which in turn put a lot of stress on Beatrice when it came to selecting the cast. There is a teacher theater advisor who helps with each semester's production, but these plays (in the fall) and the musicals (in the spring) are all student-run. Thankfully the cast selection worked out in the end.

So, when opening night came, we were all excited. And Beatrice, Amy, and I were all sick (not Bryce, though). The flu, covid, or a bad cold, we didn't know. We just knew we were sick.

[clock moving backward in time]

The week before opening night is called tech week when there are complete run-throughs of the play with lights, music, and more. Beatrice got sick the weekend before and it made for a miserable tech week. I had to leave on a work trip on that Tuesday of tech week and would be back midday Friday. 

She didn't miss one tech week rehearsal, though. She wasn't the only kid who got sick that week, but she was the director and needed to be there. 

On the Wednesday before, Beatrice and I had a call, and she shared something that true leaders live and breathe: "Dad, I need to be there for my team."

That was the day I started to feel sick. Amy was already feeling sick before I left on my trip. 

[clock moving forward in time]

The play's opening scene included a lot of Bryce's character and they were amazing! Yes, we're the parents and we love our kids no matter what and are proud of them no matter what. But mercy me, Bryce was so good. They were worried about not projecting loudly enough without yelling since there aren't stage mics. That wasn't an issue because Bryce (and the rest of the cast) projected loudly and clearly enough all the way through. 

Thank goodness Amy and I were hopped up on cold medicine, because the sick would've sucked the enjoyment right out of us. 

And enjoy it we did. Plus, there was a seemingly random segue to an all-Peanut's cast performing The Crucible (about the Salem witch trials) was super funny. Nicely done!

[clock moving backward in time]

I started feeling crappy on that Wednesday and then when I went to the event I was speaking at on Thursday, I definitely knew I was getting sick. I made it through the event without any outward symptoms, but your body remembers what it feels when it's sick, and those memories hit me hard that night. 

My flight back early Friday morning was on time, but I couldn't get home soon enough. That's when Amy and I loaded up on cold medicine. We also brought masks with us in case we started sneezing and/or coughing. 

We weren't going to miss this for the world. 

[clock moving forward in time]

The cold medicine kept Amy and I relaxed and focused so we could enjoy the play, a hilarious whodunnit with over-the-top characters and plot twists throughout. High school student directors don't make many friends during a production, usually being accused of favoritism, and/or being too stern, and/or worse. But Beatrice's leadership has been well-respected the entire time, something we beam proudly about. 

All the characters were delightful including our Bryce. So good! Afterwards we talked with both kids about how they thought it went and both were delighted with the performance, even though Beatrice was still pretty sick (as were we). I told Beatrice we loved it all and the moving of the clock hands backward and forward between scenes was an especially fun touch. She said it was her idea.

Of course it was. Well done. The play was brilliantly staged and we couldn't be prouder. 

Six Months to the Rest of My Life

I stood on the cliff overlooking the ocean. The same ocean I had looked at just a few years earlier, thinking to myself, I'm going to live here. And live here I did, with the love of my life Amy, whom I also met a few years earlier one day at the beach.

The wind pummeled me from the sea, cold and damp. I was drunk. Again. I smoked a cigarette. The burning smoke enhanced my dark euphoria. I cried and smoked another cigarette. 

This recurring pattern continued for a few months. I had been laid off from my startup tech job and was unemployed. Amy and I did take an amazing trip across Europe shortly after I was laid off, but when the travels were over, the perpetual hangover kicked in. I struggled with my blue genes, my addictions, my destructive past patterns of soul-crushing anxiety laced with depression. I didn't know what to do; this was post the dot-com bubble bursting into a tough job market. I felt like a failure unworthy of love or grace, even with my new found love.

At that time, I hid how much I drank from Amy. She worked nights then and it was too easy to drink more than usual. By the time she got home, I was already asleep. Passed out more likely. But then one day she found out what I was hiding, and the reckoning was upon me.

I come from addiction genes; my birth father was an abusive alcoholic and my mother struggled with chronic pain and painkillers later in life. I didn't start drinking until the very end of high school, but the fact is that I did start. Same with smoking cigarettes. In fact, I smoked cigarettes for 14 years after high school. A pack a day on average for most of those years. 

After the above heavy drinking, I didn't quit drinking, but I didn't drink as much and I didn't hide it anymore. Amy and I both drank in moderation, until the pandemic, where we both upped our intake (like many others at the time). I remember our kids asking us why we drank nearly every night. I'll come back to that one.

In 2002, I quit smoking. Amy and I were to be married in 2003, but she didn't want to marry a smoker. I didn't blame her. But it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. 

Nicotine has been proven to be as addictive as cocaine and heroin and may even be more addictive. 70 percent of smokers report wanting to quit, but many wait until they develop a significant tobacco-related disease such as heart disease, cancer or stroke.

The first two years were rough, but thankfully I did it. My official quit date was September 22, 2002, the same date when our oldest Beatrice was born years later. 

Which brings me back to drinking. Post-pandemic, Amy decided there would be no more drinking for her; she wanted to be healthier; it was no longer "fun". It'll be four years for her in October. She didn't have a problem with me still drinking and I kept it low to moderate (except for work trips unfortunately). Our kids asked why I still drank. While I reminded them it was usually only 2-3 times per week, Bryce would say to me, "You have a beer every night, Dad."

Then came the death of my dear friend Robby. Paralyzed since his swimming accident in high school, he suffered from chronic pain and a body that degenerated over the decades. And like my mother, he struggled with painkillers.

After that, I really began to reflect on my relationship with drinking. Alcohol is detrimental and there's plenty of data now showing how toxic it is to the body, no matter the amount ingested. Without planning exactly when, I stopped on March 22 this year, six months to the anniversary date of my quitting smoking back in 2002.

When you're genetically dispositioned to addiction, ultimately the only choice you have is to not do the thing you might become highly addicted to. That was something I learned from attending Nicotine Anonymous (same program as AA) before I quit for good. Because if you choose to do it, you're right back in the heart of the destructive dark abyss. Overdramatic? Not really. Those who know, know. And mercy me, quitting smoking was a lot harder than quitting drinking, that's for sure. 

I'm glad I quit drinking. I'm glad my wife did four years before me. We also know our own kids may drink someday and that's their choice (but as far as we know they haven't yet). However, I know firsthand that addiction and purposeful sedation prevented me from overcoming fear, anxiety, and scarcity, instead of embracing love and the potential abundance of a brighter life. And better health. You can truly never be happy if you don’t let go of the things that make you sad. And in the end, alcohol always made me sad. 

So today, my life-affirming sentence is six months to the rest of my life. Blessings.

Big-Tent Friendships

The skinheads filmed us during the birthday party. Dozens of people in my parents’ house, partying it up, to celebrate our dear friend Robby's 21st birthday. Robby wanted them to film it, but that video is now gone forever.

I think. C'mon, give me a break; it was a long time ago and memories tend to morph into multiverses that may or may not exist. So, for this piece, I'm believe it did. 

They were skinheads, no doubt. That 1960's derivative of UK working-class pride that evolved into the 1970's and 1980's white power subcultures. They were always nice to me, and Robby of course because they were friends of his, but they did keep others we knew on edge (I just thought they were punk rock).

We all had a lot of fun over the years, these best friends of mine, with gravity's center being Robby. Robby who was a swimmer and water polo player in high school. Robby who broke his neck at a swim meet our senior year in high school, changing the trajectory of his life forever. Robby who became emotionally stuck in the spring of 1984. Robby who struggled with pain and day-to-day activities and his life-altering paralysis.

For decades we'd journey to Chico California to visit him. And not just my core group of friends -- Greg, Rob, and Craig -- but other longtime friend groups -- Charles, Donovan, another Greg, and another Craig. And many other men and women over the years. Robby had a pretty big circle of friends since high school; he connected with many flavors of humans over the years. There were those of us from our hometown of Visalia, and many others from Chico where he lived for over 35 years. There were old high school friends and water polo and swimmer friends and artist friends and rocker friends and plain Jane friends and even skinheads as mentioned above.

The list went on and on. When we held Robby's memorial in Visalia, many friends of the past joined us in celebrating Robby's life. Fast forward over a year later and a little bigger circle of friends got together in the Sierras and spent the weekend celebrating Robby, our friendships, our lives, and getting to know others we never really knew that well. And of course, teasing each other relentlessly, which has been our way for 45+ years. Our friend Donovan had made t-shirts for us that said "Robby Day Day" on the front with his birthdate and passing date on the back.

However, it's not all ribbing and guy talk; we're vulnerable with each other, too. Willing to share our highlights and hopes, and our funkiness and fears. Two of us have stopped drinking alcohol. One never drank. Two are retired. One's had open-heart surgery. We talked and laughed and talked and laughed a lot more. I grilled the meats all weekend and Rob and I drove the pontoon boat on the lake. 

We've been brothers to each other for decades, more so now than ever, and miss our brother Robby. We love each other and tell each other. I can't remember the countless phone calls with Robby where he'd end with "I love you, man", like the Paul Rudd and Jason Segel movie of the same name. They're friends who bond over their mutual adoration of the rock band Rush. Not too far off the mark for us either (especially for my friend Troy and me). 

Robby was an empathic big-tent friend sharing big-tent friendships with many. That's one of the many things that made him special. That's why I love watching our own children becoming big-tent friends with others in their social circles in high school with the hope that they'll have similar life-long friendships. And not just in high school either. In college, the workplace, and wherever they go and whatever they do. I do and my wife Amy does, too.

So, here's to big-tent friendships and the toast I made with my friends when we were together in the Sierras (or something like this): 

"Here’s to our torrid pasts, our playful presents (and presence), our bright futures — and to our friendships."

I love you guys. Blessings. 

• The Full Oliver Friendships
• All the Friendship in Between, with Love
• A Spirit Breaking Free
• Because There's Always A Promise
• A Longing for Loving Connection
• What Happens Next
• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• A Long-Term Well-Being Win
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984
• Men of An Unremarkable Age
• Being What Happens Next
• Retro K: A treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged

What I'm Grateful For

It's less often these days when we all want to do the same thing. Each of us is their own unique person with separate interests. And that's okay. 

My wife Amy and I are doing more things together without our kids. Our interests have overlapped for nearly 30 years since we met and we're revisiting some of them now that our kids are older. 

We're not empty nesters yet; our kids are still in high school. It's the precursor to that: they are old enough and responsible enough to stay by themselves for a few days here and there and we can venture out on our own.

Our oldest Beatrice goes to bed earlier like Mom and Dad do, but our youngest Bryce is a night owl. Both are busy with school, choir, theater, volunteering, and babysitting. We're busy with work, Amy with PTA, and me with the school board. They have their friends and we have ours.

However, one very important "same thing" we do together is dinner. With the exceptions of Amy and I having an evening meeting, or if I'm traveling for work, dinner is and has always been a sacred time for us. Sacred because it's an opportunity for all of us to share our day's happenings, the highlights (and sometimes lowlights), to discuss current events, to plan family events, and most importantly, share what each of us are grateful for. 

Ever since they were little, we've been sharing gratitude at dinner. Now that they're teens, sharing gratitude on a feeling-funky-off day isn't easy. Same goes for Mom and Dad. We have our own feeling-funky-off days, too. But it's non-negotiable; each one of us is required to share what they're grateful for, because there's always something to be grateful for. And because there's always something to be grateful for, it grounds us in the happy now, and what to look forward to in the potential of tomorrow. 

There are times when our kids say they have nothing to share. But we're patient and they eventually share. Again, it's non-negotiable for a reason. It's helps us all to reset to the now again, that we're all together sharing a meal, sharing our days, sharing our love, and it makes no never mind on what happens next. 

And what happens next after dinner can vary. After I do the dishes, I usually go play my drums in the garage. Amy and Bryce might what some TV together. Beatrice goes into her room to do homework. 

Occasionally, we all do something together. After dinner last night, Bryce asked us all to go for a walk. We all concurred. It was a warm September late summer night; the kind we get a lot of this time of the year. Not only did all four of us want to go for a walk, our dog Jenny did, too. Dogs are always up for going for a walk. 

Our cat Winston went with us, too. Not by choice, though. Bryce had wanted a cat backpack this year for their birthday and that's what they got. The first time Winston when in the backpack, he peed inside it. We didn't get upset because it was obviously stressful. He's an indoor cat and we rarely let him outside. 

Since that first time, he's gotten used to it, and just sits and smells and looks around at the big outside world he's never really known. So, Bryce loaded him up, I connected the leash to Jenny's collar, and off we went for a post-dinner walk around the block. 

As we walked and talked, the love for my family swelled my heart to the size of the setting sun. The setting sun we walked towards in the warm, pre-dusk evening. I didn't even want to take a picture, which I usually do (instead, I picked another sunset photo I've taken). 

No, I just wanted to stay in this moment with my family. We made these two amazing humans, I thought, and now they're making their own amazing ways. And we all still love doing things together. 

That's why I already know what I'm going to share tonight about what I'm grateful for. 

Healthier Options Help Make the Grade

I used to love cowboy bread. Except when it tasted like soap. 

To be fair, most of the time it tasted great. I remember it was a basic sweet cake with a crumbly cinnamon-sugar topping. When I ate hot lunches in grade school, it was a treat to eat. But sometimes, when the cake pans weren't rinsed completely (or I assumed that was why), there was a soapy aftertaste to the bread. 

Besides the cowboy bread, I loved eating hot lunches in grade school. Except for the peanut butter filled celery stalks. Celery stalks? Really? For me, it tasted of crispy tasteless blech. The peanut butter, though? I scraped that right out and ate it up!

I loved hot lunches so much that in sixth grade I volunteered to work in the cafeteria. Sixth graders could sign up to work in the cafeteria for two weeks. We helped serve food and we helped clean up. And the best part? We got seconds. I was a skinny, asthmatic kid back then, but I did gain a few pounds those two weeks. 

All those TV-dinner-kind-of meals were mostly yummy to me back in the day. Salisbury steak, meatloaf smothered in brown gravy or ketchup glaze, rectangular pizza with ground beef and melted cheese, fish sticks served with a side of tartar sauce, sloppy joes on soft white hamburger buns, tuna noodle casserole or macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwiches, all served with comfort food sides. 

Although I'm sure we would've qualified back in 1970s for free school meals, my mom sent my sister and I to school each week with our lunch money, sometimes all in change. Mom also made us lunches to take to school, too. But once we started junior high and then high school, we were eating more fried foods and less healthy options. In high school, being able to go off campus to buy lunch was the way to go. I have fond memories of Frito boats (a small bag of Fritos cut open with chili, cheese, and onions dumped atop the crunchy corn chips) and Del Taco burritos, among other fast foods.

Eating healthy food for breakfast and lunch improves students' grades, boosts brain function, and increases school attendance. There's a ton of research that validates this. Since 2022, California has funded free breakfast and lunch in all public schools to all students through a state mandate backed by state funding and federal nutrition programs. Free to all students regardless of income level. No more stigmatizing low-income families whose kids would otherwise go hungry. 

These free meals aren't guaranteed forever, but thankfully our state continues to make these investments in health and wellness for our children, even when the federal government continues to gut overall education. Only 9 states currently offer free meals for all public school students. Our kids have always enjoyed having healthier and yummy choices for breakfast, brunch, and lunch. They don't eat the school food every day, but it's there when they're hungry to keep their brains firing.

Besides being a parent, I'm also a school board trustee, and very proud of our award-winning food services team in our Santa Cruz City Schools district (and we get to eat the food, too!). They've also made the list of America's Healthiest Schools for four years in a row now. They source a lot of our food locally, focusing on local organic farms, local bakeries, and local meat vendors. 

Also known as the SCCS Surf City Cafe, their staff ensures that breakfast, brunch, lunch, and even supper and after school snack programs throughout the district meet the needs of students and staff. They also run a farmers' market periodically at the high schools featuring local fruits and vegetables. And now there's a SCCS-led Central Coast Cooperative that helps more than 20 school districts combine their purchasing power to get better local ingredients and products for their schools. No more ultra-processed-only foods! 

Now, I don't see cowboy bread on our school menus, but mercy me, there are lots of super yummies for all our students at all grade levels to choose from, K-12. True, our kids do still hit the gas station mini-mart for junkie snacks after school just like we did in high school. We're grateful they have healthier options at school, though. Healthier options that help make the grade!