Fully Embraced Adulting

"I'm going to host two parties while you're gone," said Beatrice.

It was funny, because it wasn't true. And we were comforted by that. Comforted because we'd come to the crossroads of whether it was time we could leave our teens at home alone for a night or two while Mom and Dad took a trip without them. 

Every time now when we leave them home alone I joke with them and say, "No parties." 

Both Beatrice and Bryce would laugh and say they would. But we knew they wouldn't. Unlike us when we were that age. Don't get me started. We definitely had parties. Threw a rager or two as the kids used to say. Our kids just aren't interested in that kind of social scene. I feel like fewer kids are. In fact, fewer are according to research. And fewer are sexually active as teens, too -- there's been a 54% drop since 1991. 

Goodness, were we just bored with too much alone time on our hands without adults around when my wife Amy and I were teens? Yep, we were. I mean, compared to us, we're glad our kids are good kids, without any unhealthy experimentation that we know of, and we do talk with our kids freely about most coming-of-age topics. Well, Mom does more than me because, although I do get in on the conversations when I'm not the grumpy "no" Dad. 

Since the pandemic, mental and physical health has been a big family priority for us all. Amy stopped drinking alcohol two and a half years ago, and although I still drink at most a few nights a week, it's a lot less than we did during COVID (I think many parents with school-age kids back then did as well -- call it the coping libations). 

Amy and I exercise regularly and encourage our kids to do the same. Both Beatrice and Bryce also self-regulate their device usage, especially Beatrice. They also have their friends they hang out sometimes, friends who also don't engage in risky behavior that we're aware of (like ours did back in the day).

That's why we're comfortable leaving them at home for a night or two now. They have our local friends to call in case of an emergency. And Beatrice, being the oldest, has fully embraced adulting, making sure her sibling Bryce is taken care of, our pets are taken care of, and the house is taken care of, all while taking care of herself, and now working all day five days a week at her summer camp job (this last trip we took was during two days that Bea had to work). Bryce helps and does their part as well, but Beatrice is still the responsible elder in charge while we're away.

Which is why when Beatrice said to us, "I'm going to host two parties while you're gone," we knew she was teasing us. Also, no teen who was really going to party it up ever says "I'm going to host two parties". Like ever. Unless it's a Tupperware party, and I don't think that's a thing anymore anyway. 

Schadenfreude Be Damned

I'm so done with schadenfreude, when people experience pleasure from other people's misfortune. I really am. Too many people spend too much time grounded in outrage, scarcity, and judgment, all of which allow unhappiness, loneliness, and hate to thrive. I know, I've had my share. That includes disparaging those with more money, popular entertainers, business and government leaders, those who have done us wrong in some way, and others of similar ilk. It's usually about people with power, in power, or holding power over us somehow.

And when we act that way, our children see it. Feel it. Model it. Our kids have called us out more than once about judging others while celebrating their misfortune. As parents, spouses, and friends, Amy and I have worked on this for many years; it's always a work in progress. It's also a time suck and a soul suck to live in negativity. Thankfully we've come to realize how much more energy it takes to judge and celebrate misfortune than to accept, empathize, and love -- and to let go of that which does not serve us. 

Back to the kids, though. Our children model who we are and what we do and say. And yes, there are life lessons, beliefs, morals, and more that we want our children to absorb and apply to their own lives that are never without their own bias. This becomes more evident when they are teenagers, which ours are now. We've loved watching them grow up and helping them grapple with this thing we call life. We're grateful that they reject our schadenfreude but remind them to do the same with their own. 

This doesn't mean we don't stand up, speak out, and push back on injustice and/or people we feel jeopardize our family's wellbeing and safety. Because we do. But we don't long for and celebrate the demise of those things and people we push back on. We want positive change, yes, but not to destroy that which we want to change for our betterment and the betterment of others. Just positive change, and again, through eyes of acceptance, empathy, gratitude, and love.

And it all starts at home. Recently, our family all had things about each other that bothered each other -- Bryce and Beatrice making each other feel bad about things they shouldn't have, Mom getting really mad about something she shouldn't have (and usually doesn't), and grumpy Dad getting super fussy about things he shouldn't have (and usually does). So, we spent time at dinner talking about these things, each of us sharing how we feel without judgment, really listening and hearing each other. That's no easy trick for any family with teens, including a family like ours that does work on our communication skills. 

That's why we practice communication and gratitude in our house. There's always something to be grateful for. Each other, for example. Even when we don't get along. Especially when we don't get along, because it reminds us of why acceptance, empathy, forgiveness, gratitude, and love are so important. This also applies to everything and everyone else in our lives, which is always the tricky part. Letting judgment go is grand. Schadenfreude be damned. Winston agrees (this time at least).

A Supernova Smile

"It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living." –F. Scott Fitzgerald 

It's been nearly 13 years since both my parents passed. My dad first followed by my mom four months later. My sister and I miss them every day. 

Today on Father's Day, I really miss my dad. He wasn't my biological father, but in many ways, he might as well have been, which is why we took his name when we were in high school. 

My dad and I did not agree politically, but we did share an affinity for empathy. I learned from him that men can be caring and loving, kind and forgiving. He listened to me and heard me, most of the time without judgement, and even if he didn't agree with me, we could have a conversation about everything. 

As I revisit something I wrote about him after he died, I'm struck again about how much I miss his loving smile and the laughter in his heart. It was always a sunny smile, my dad's. A master of levity, he injected humor and silliness into most everything he did. His infectious laughter brought smiles to anyone in the room, the scar above his lip gleaming under light like polished glass. For the life of me, I can't remember how he got the scar. All I know is that it added a richness to his character, like biscuits soaked in honey and butter – you could never get enough.

This from someone who served in the Air Force and who also was a law enforcement veteran of 32 years. Anyone who ever worked with him shared the same sentiment – from the criminals he put away (who he called his customers), to literal strangers he'd meet on the street, in the store, in the campground, in the post office, in the doctor's office – everyone experienced his sunny disposition, his goofy humor, and his viral smile.

My dad inspired me to do the same – to be silly, to embrace life and all the people in it, to always give life and everyone in it a second chance, to still have a smile on my face when facing adversity and my own shortcomings. To always be loving and empathetic with a lightness of being.

I remember when I carried him to the bathroom the week before he died, his frail body still buoyed by the lightness of being he had left. 

Our meditation this morning was about fathers and how we should be unconditionally loving and giving to everyone. My dad was all that, and the love and laughter in his heart left a supernova smile in mine. 

June Gloom Is Everywhere

School's out for the summer. And like many other families, ours longs for social and economic normalcy. Our oldest Beatrice has already been hanging out with her friends and started her job again as a camp counselor at a summer day camp. Our youngest Bryce is grateful for sleeping in, listening to music, watching movies, playing guitar, and waiting for their summer camps to start. We have no big summer vacation plans since Beatrice is working all summer, and so are Mom and Dad, but there are some fun things planned.

But the dark shadows of uncertainty are encroaching everywhere. Recession fears. AI taking our jobs. Global conflict escalations. Extreme weather (again) and fire danger (again). Splintered political and social ideologies that divide people everywhere. Authoritarianism on the rise. Misinformation and elusive variable truths. And I'm still mourning my dear friend. It's like the "June Gloom" as we call it in the Bay Area has blanketed everything. 

Now that our kids are teens and more aware of what's happening around them, the pressures of the adulting world combine with those dark shadows of uncertainty -- and Mom and Dad are stressing more than ever. 

Our kids a little more too, but they're still kids who know that Mom and Dad are taking care and worrying about most things for them still. Bryce wanted to organize a march supporting LGBTQIA+ rights, and did it, with a lot of help from Mom. It was peaceful and without incident, but what happens the next time if things escalate and flash-bang grenades are deployed by law enforcement and the National Guard is deployed, like what's happening in Los Angeles? We had a safety plan for Bryce's march and thankfully didn't have to use it. What happens next time is anyone's guess, but we'll be out there nonetheless. 

Plus, there are adulting worries less potentially violent but are still safety problems that we must worry about. Beatrice is stressing because she wants to get her driver's permit soon. We're excited about that, but we're not excited about our insurance rates. Ugh. But Mom and Dad are stressing because one of our cars has a transmission problem that can't be diagnosed and has become a safety problem for our family. So, that means it's time to shop for a new car after nine years, something we were not planning on doing in this frenetic tariff-driven, high-interest-rate economy. Ugh, again. 

No matter what, our family will invest in some summer normalcy without compromising our beliefs and principles. We will continue to peacefully protest to support the rights of everyone and to keep our country an inclusive democracy.

We'll also have to pay more for things, that's for damn sure, but we're grateful for what we can provide to our family. Blessings to those families who struggle to do the same.

June Gloom is everywhere. Be wary, safe, and well. 

Because There's Always A Promise

The past few weeks have been a lot. Work changes, tons of school board activities, Beatrice's High School Musical, Bryce's We Will Not Be Erased march, Bryce graduating 8th grade, and my best friend's memorial. And yet, I've never been on a sounder emotional footing.

Thank goodness, because the world around us continues to be a proverbial shit show. But none of that mattered, especially this past week. 

First, attending the elementary school promotion ceremony where both our children went to school from preschool to 5th grade was so very sweet. Our oldest Beatrice was with me because one of her longtime friend's sister was graduating 5th grade. Most of the 5th graders all looked so tiny and young. Now they were on their way to middle school. Beatrice's memories were bittersweet because it was the heart of pandemic when she graduated 5th grade and the school did a drive-through promotion certificate pick up.

When Bryce graduated 5th grade, I wasn't there because I had work travel that week. But, because the school streamed the ceremony via Zoom, I did get to watch Bryce speak along with a few other students from each 5th grade class. 

I was not going to miss their 8th grade graduations, however. Amy and I were there for Beatrice's two years ago and then Bryce's this past week. Being on the school board, I'm grateful that I got to hand both our children their promotion certificates on stage. Plus, there's nothing better when you're the school board president and your punk rock kid puts rabbit ears above your head for the photo. Love that kid!

8th grade was a lot for Bryce. They struggled with an introverted social battery that drained quickly and led to emotional changes and anxiety challenges. Beatrice experienced similar changes and challenges when she was in 8th grade, too, but who's now thriving in high school. Bryce is looking forward to joining her in high school where they'll both be in choir and theater together. Amy and I continue to provide a loving and supportive environment for them that helps them learn to adapt and thrive. 

All of Beatrice's and Bryce's recent school activities (and anxieties) have brought back many of my own bittersweet memories (and anxieties). And since my best friend Robby passed away earlier this year, my high school memories continue to unravel like multicolored streamers in high wind. They ripple, flap, and tangle, weaving and bleeding into each other – an unreliable blend of what happened then, what’s happened in the years since, and how I feel about it all now. Memories that tatter in my heart. Memories that reconcile and heal in my heart.

And it was the healing in my heart that radiated with love and gratitude at our friend's celebration of life memorial. My dearest friends and brothers as I call them helped me plan the memorial, and many other longtime friends helped to pull it off. Nearly 50 of us came together to celebrate Robby, including his sister and niece. There were many faces I hadn't seen in person in decades. There were lots of smiles and hugs, and of course tears, and while we're all certainly a lot older now, our past youthful spirits were aglow with the promise of our lives then and now. 

Because there's always a promise, one we owe to ourselves to fulfill every moment of every day. Blessings to Robby and blessings to us all. 

A Family Affair

When Reagan was elected in 1980, that's when I started pushing back on my parents' conservative political and societal ideologies. In fact, throughout high school in the early 1980's I always empathized with those undermined because of who they were and those who wanted equality and equity for all. Anyone whose civil rights were in jeopardy and who were subjected to the conservative politics of that engulfed the 1980's post President Carter. 

Looking back now, I'm still so very grateful that my parents let me push back and debate on their political and societal ideologies. I'm still so very grateful they pushed back and debated mine. They listened patiently as I argued why we needed to support marginalized people, from immigrants to LGBTQ to people of color to the homeless -- that they all had a right to exist. Sometimes I'd get so frustrated and angry when they'd give up and tell me they that "it's just the way things are". We sometimes agreed on things and sometimes agreed to disagree. And sometimes we'd just tell each other that the other was just plain wrong. But that was the extent of my protesting. 

Because I was also still a teenager who loved school, played sports, made messes, slept in until noon, liked girls, and just wanted to have fun, without degrading most others who weren't like me. Back then I never really cared about whether someone was gay or straight. We never really talked about it as a family, nor did I talk about it with my friends, at least until the AIDS epidemic began. Unfortunately, I was still guilty over the years of using "gay" and "faggot" as comedic but derogatory slurs and did so with my friends for many years after high school. It's something I finally stopped doing and encouraged my friends to do the same.

Once my wife Amy and I had children, we knew that we were all in for being empathic and caring parents who would love their children no matter who they were or what they'd become. So many of our generation, Gen X, were brought up to not challenge authority, especially after the societal counter-culture upheaval of the 1960's and early 1970's. It wasn't quite the old English proverb, dating from the 15th century, "Children should be seen and not heard," especially since many of our parents worked while we were in school and we had way too much time to kill without the adults around, so we weren't seen or heard a lot. But there were those of us who were encouraged not to speak out against things we were supposedly too young and immature to understand. 

And so many of us bit our tongues a lot over the decades and didn't speak out, even when the powers that be created policies that didn't serve our best interests and muted our rights. What I've realized is that many of my generation became supportive apologists for the conservative status quo that continued from the 1970's and 1980's, and into the 1990's and 2000's, even with two-term Democratic presidents being elected. And even if they never really agreed with policy decisions that disparately impacted already marginalized segments of the population that included them. 

Amy and I truly believed it was going to be different for our family. As our children grew older, we took them to peaceful protests and marches in support of women's rights and more. We discussed current events at home, and they would ask us questions. We encouraged them to find multiple verifiable sources for things they heard or read about. Although we're much more aligned ideologically than I was with my parents, they still push back on us, and us on them. 

But our teens are still teens doing the things teens do that can drive parents a little crazy -- sleeping in, making messes, the emotional roller coaster rides, and more. The difference for us is that we listen to them, and they listen to us (mostly), allowing for a reciprocal trusting and understanding dialogue about nearly anything they/we want to talk about. That's why when Bryce shared they wanted to organize a local march event to support the rights of LGBTQIA+ people that are in jeopardy (along with the rights of us all), we were more than proud and supportive. 

Bryce also wanted to do a school walkout, in which they get students to walk out of class and school, which we were not supportive of. For one, I'm on the local school board and I could not support that because our district supports the safety and well-being of all students with a strong policy against discrimination, harassment, and retaliation. 

The "We Will Not Be Erased" march that Bryce conceived and organized with help from Amy (Mom) and The Diversity Center, along with the support of many other organizations including the Santa Cruz County Office of Education and Santa Cruz City Schools, was an inspiring and peaceful event with student and adult speakers, chants, music, and hundreds in attendance with a whole lot of empathy, love, and support for not only LGBTQIA+ rights, but for the rights of us all. 

This was also a family affair, and to put a positive 21st century spin and the 15th century proverb I referenced earlier: "Children should be seen and heard and encouraged to take the chances and make the changes that we never made so that the world will be a better place for all people." 

Amen.

A Lighted Life to Live

"Chase the sun around the world
I want to look at life
In the available light..."

–Rush, Available Light

I wanted to get a family picture under the rainbow balloon arch before we headed into the awards ceremony, but that didn't happen. First we tabled with other local organizations supporting LGBTQIA+ student groups to promote Bryce's upcoming We Will Not Be Erased March coming up this week on May 13. Then I was recruited with a few of the other school board members who attended to help serve food, which we gladly did. Then we enjoyed the watching the Queer Youth Leadership Awards (QYLA), celebrating some amazing kids demonstrating empathic leadership sorely lacking in today's world.

Once the event was over, our kids and their friends were talking away while our youngest Bryce and their mom Amy worked on recruiting other students to speak at Bryce's march. I was tired but was still determined to get that dang family picture. 

I'm the family photographer. Always have been. That was one of the many positive attributes my mother instilled in me (pummeled me with sometimes, actually). I love Amy, but if it wasn't for me, there would only be a handful of family pictures. Every once in a while I take a journey through all our photos, most of which are now on my computer. It's always a wondrous journey, one where I can relive our family story over and over again. From the day I met Amy, to the birth of Beatrice, then Bryce, to all the things we've done in the nearly 17 years since. 

The pictures (and videos) I've taken over the years are the permanent representations of our love letters that last. They haven't all been love letters, mind you; there have been some bittersweet and painful moments that perusing our pictures remind me of. But those are few and far between. Looking at our family pictures just reminds me how much I love Amy and our children. 

Like I need reminding. I'm so grateful for them. This Mother's Day I awoke and again checked out our pictures before Amy or the kids were up. I was intent on picking some out for a last-minute collage, but I became overwhelmed and was happily lost in our memories. What struck me was something I was already aware of: my eye for light. I'm only a photo hobbyist, so no professional photographer careers in my future, but I do have an eye for light. 

Prior to meeting Amy I struggled with darkness and depression. I preferred emoting in the shadows because that's what I grew up with, what I knew. Too much stress and trauma that fueled anxiety that fueled fumbling through life -- until I started chasing the light. I wanted to finally be happy. To live in abundance and love, and not scarcity and sadness. Like my dear friend Robby who passed away earlier this year had said to me more than once over the years, "You know, sometimes I wish this would all end, but then I think, I still really want to see what happens next. You know what I mean?"

I do. And we did, my friend. After Amy came into my life, she reminded me every day -- and reminds me and our children every day -- with every word and action -- there is always a lighted life to live. There is abundance. There is love. There is grace. We don't always see it, but the light is always available, it's always there. 

And yes, I got my latest family picture -- a BhivePowered rainbow 🌈 by Mom.

Happy Mother's Day, Amy. We love you. 

To Save What We All Love

 “That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate — saving what we love.”

—Rose Tico, Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I know, I know. It's May 4th, Star Wars Day. The memes on "May the 4th be with you" will swarm around the world like endless X-wing and TIE fighter dogfights. Those who love Star Wars will embrace them all, and those who don't won't. 

I embrace them all. I've always celebrated all things Star Wars ever since I was 12 years old and saw Episode IV – A New Hope back in 1977 for the first of many times. Even our kids trained as Jedis at Disneyland more than once (even if they're still not the fans my wife and I are). The Star Wars universe has always lifted me up.

But today's realities aren't science fiction filled with the power of the force. They're stubborn realities threatening human rights, civil liberties, democratic freedoms, and the health and safety of everyone. That's why the themes of rebellion and resistance against authoritarian governments are all too real today. 

According to the Economist Intelligence Unit's 2023 Democracy Index (which assesses 167 countries), about 44% of the world’s countries are considered democratic in some form, when combining full and flawed democracies. However, these countries represent over 50% of the global population, due to large democracies like India and the United States.

Only 44% are considered democratic in some form. And that's going to only decrease if America continues its fall from democratic republic grace. I read recently that a vast majority of political scientists think the United States is moving swiftly from liberal democracy toward some form of authoritarianism.

We don't need hundreds of political scientists to tell us we're moving swiftly into authoritarianism. Just read the room, kids. Our rights are being taken away day by day, especially those for women, people of color, LGBTQIA+, and other marginalized people. 

We've always talked about what's happened and what's happening in America and around the world with our children. We've taken them to protests and marches and we've always encouraged them to stand up to tyranny and hate. Our youngest Bryce has even organized a peaceful march called "We Will Not Be Erased" about supporting and protecting the rights of LGBTQIA+ students and adults, because we all have a right to exist. 

I know, I know. The real world isn't Star Wars and can't be realistically represented in a series of hopeful rebellion and resistance memes and quotes on "May the 4th be with you" day. However, our family protests and marches against authoritarianism for the same reasons. We march and protest for everyone because everyone's rights is at risk today. Including those who disagree with those of us who march and protest what's happening in America today. Even those who hate what we represent. 

We're fighting to save our democratic republic, our inalienable rights, our due process, our free speech, our equity and inclusivity, our families, and so much more, again for everyone. 

We're fighting for our children, and now they're fighting for us, to save what we all love.

The Love Letters That Last

"...Don't you shy away (ah)

Manifest a ceiling when you shy away
Searching for that feeling
Just like an "I love you" (ooh, ooh)
That isn't words (ah, ah, ah)
Like a song he wrote (ah)
That's never heard..."

–Twenty One Pilots, Shy Away

We should all write more love letters and songs. Write them every day. And I'm not just talking about literal love songs to our spouses or lovers. I'm talking about love songs of living. Writing the moments that bring us joy, and even better, making those same moments that bring others joy. These moments are words and actions of an infinite ilk, a positive passion that no one can deny, but everyone can be inspired by. 

There are those of us who write these love songs in our heads, but then they're never shared or heard by others, and that's sad. God knows we really need to hear them today. Need to see them today. Need to feel them today. 

Our oldest Beatrice has worked hard in her latest high school musical based on Disney's High School Musical. It's only her second time participating in the theater program, and this time she's in the ensemble as a cheerleader and a jock. The past two weeks of rehearsals were a lot on top of an already tough class schedule. 

But we were all blown away on opening night. The entire cast was not only amazing, they also riffed love letters of joy one scene after another. You could hear it. You could see it. You could feel it. And of course, every time Beatrice was on stage, I took pictures and videos, and her joy inspired me. All that work channeled into love letters of dancing and singing and acting. And smiles. Lots and lots of smiles.

It's infectious when this happens and is more than simply theater entertainment. The audience had perpetual smiles including our youngest Bryce. That infectious joy spilled over after the musical was over, too. Proud parents, family, and friends talking and waiting for the theater kids to come out from the dressing rooms. Teens running back and forth in the hall outside the theater auditorium talking and laughing. Bryce jumped right in looking forward to high school, theater, and choir next year. 

We all need to embody more joy today and encourage our children to do the same. We all need to write more love letters and songs about living, what we're grateful for, and what brings us joy and joy to others, and to not be afraid to share them, to let them be heard, to let them shine. 

It's not a one and done either. Embodying joy for yourself and others in every action and reaction you experience are the love letters that last. 

A Right To Exist

"We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist."

–James Baldwin, American writer and civil rights activist

They tried to erase Jesus. They being those in power. If you don't know the story, Jesus was ordered to be crucified by Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea at the time. Jesus had been accused of blasphemy, but Pilate initially found no reason to charge him. However, under pressure from the crowd and religious authorities, he eventually authorized the crucifixion to maintain public order. The Christian faithful know the rest of the story. Happy Easter. He is risen. 

For those who believe, that's their truth, and blessings to them, but my truth today is that "God has left the building" in this country we call America. I thought about this (and many other things that constantly swirl in my mind) as my wife Amy and I joined another local protest this weekend protesting all the blasphemous and destructive things the current administration is doing. I thought about erasure and the lack of due process sending non-criminal immigrants to an El Salvadoran prison. Even America citizens are at risk now.

As we walked around during the protest holding our signs up high, I worried that we're all candidates for erasure, especially women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. If you think that's an overreaction, then maybe you missed the following:

The current administration has undertaken extensive efforts to remove or alter historical references across federal websites, monuments, and educational materials, particularly those highlighting the contributions of marginalized groups. These actions are largely driven by Executive Order 14253, titled "Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History," which mandates the elimination of content deemed as promoting "divisive race-centered ideology".

And who are those marginalized groups? Women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. What does "restoring truth and sanity to American history" even mean? It actually means erasing the truth and rewriting it by scrubbing out the violent discriminatory stains of our history. 

And this is only just the beginning. 

I understand that there are those who feel like empathy and inclusion have been forced upon them, and that diversity and equity are bad things, which they're not. However, discrimination, division, and erasure are now being forced on many more. 

In the Bible, Jesus challenged the powerful, embraced those outcast, welcomed strangers, and condemned hypocrisy. He spoke of a kingdom defined not by worldly power or national identity, but by justice, mercy, and humility. Those in power tried to erase him, but they didn't succeed.

For those of us who stand up and speak truth to power today, they will try to erase us, too. But we all have a right to exist, so the time is now to do, to speak up. It really is. For our sake, our children's sake, and grandchildren's sake. We will not be erased. 

Happy Easter. Blessings to us all. 

To Do Or Not To Do

The first time it happened I opted to not do it, to not deal with it. So, I called for roadside assistance via our car insurance. In our own driveway.

The second time it happened, less than six months later, I was at a crossroads: do I attempt to do it myself or call again for roadside service. In our own driveway.  

Fortunately for me, I have an amazing and versatile wife who keeps her head cool under these circumstances. I, however, do not. My wife Amy came in the front door and said, "The back tire isn't holding air, and I found a screw in it."

I sat in the living room working as I listened to her words. I cursed multiple times, something I always do when I escalate into being stressed out. 

"Do you want to call roadside assistance again?" she asked.

I thought about it, continuing to curse in my head about the whole thing. 

"No, let's put the spare on. Please help me."

"Okay, let's do it," she said.

As we moved outside to the car I kept thinking about the life-hack lists that parents are supposed to share with their kids, the ones that include learning how to change your tire. Something I hadn't done since I owned my first car in high school. But how can I tell my kids to learn something that I haven't even done?

Amy and I did it together. Our youngest Bryce helped a little with the jack, and our oldest Beatrice came in and out of the house to watch us.

Now we know how to do it. I know how to do it. Later that night I joked with our kids, "Let's go change a tire."

They of course said, "No thank you."

A week later we discovered the Yoda fountain in front of the Industrial Light & Magic offices in the Presidio in San Francisco. This was after visiting the Walt Disney Family Museum, which was a true gem for any Disney fan, learning all about Walt's life from birth to death. Walt was a doer who transformed animation and imaginations around the world, and when we found the Yoda fountain, Yoda's famous quote of from Star Wars The Empire Strikes Back popped into my head: “Do or do not. There is no try.”

I was 14 years old when I saw The Empire Strikes Back for the first time. My sister, an old friend, and I rode our bikes to the theater to see it. I loved it. I've loved everything Star Wars since, too. George Lucas was another doer who transformed storytelling and imaginations everywhere (and now Disney keeps the magic alive). 

But doers don't have to be the most famous or transformative or successful; we all have a choice every day to do or not to do (sorry, Shakespeare). To try is a nice sentiment on the path to doing, but it's also a cop out to not commit fully in doing (thank you, Yoda).

The only way to know is to do, even if doing means failing. We couldn't know the difference otherwise and we couldn't recalibrate otherwise. When we finally changed a tire after decades of not doing (and calling roadside assistance), which again was a choice, through all the angst of the act for me, we did it. And now we can do it again. I don't want to friggin' deal with a flat tire again, but we can do it now. 

This an important distinction and one I hope our teens get. They must, because otherwise they wouldn't have tried out for theater, sang solos in choir, learned guitar, organized a student march, and so many other things, some of which we encouraged, but they ultimately chose and did. The same with me and Amy, too. It's okay not to do, that's always a choice, but to do is to know something new, and who knows where that could go.

The Comfort of Gratitude

Every night at dinner we ask each other the same question. Well, Mom and Dad ask each other and our children the same question. 

We ask the question: "What are you grateful for today?"

Rain or shine, happy or funky, at home or traveling -- the same question every time. All four of us pause, reflect, and share something we're grateful for. It doesn't matter what it is, just that we're grateful for something. Sometimes with teens, the answer is, "Nothing." But that would be the wrong answer, because there is always something. So, sometimes in those cases, either kid may answer that it's the food they eat, or the shirt they're wearing, or something seemingly benign and unimportant. 

But it's all important, whatever it is. Just the act of being grateful about something, anything, is good for the brain, the heart, and the soul. There are many studies that have been done that correlate gratitude with wellbeing -- gratitude was most strongly correlated with personality attributes related to wellbeing, and the researchers concluded that gratitude has a unique relationship with life satisfaction.

We've embedded gratitude into our relationship since the beginning, between my wife Amy and myself, long before we had children. When our kids were old enough to understand and answer the question, we included them in the gratitude sharing and have made it a best family practice ever since.

For us, we're so grateful for our children. If you've ever read anything I've written here, you figure that out pretty quickly. Not one dinnertime sharing goes by without us sharing something about our children we're grateful for. 

Today, their level of self-awareness, with teen flaws and all, are light years ahead of where me and Amy were at their age. We're so grateful for Bryce for being who they are and organizing an upcoming LGBTQIA+ march. We're so grateful for Beatrice who is also a leader in the making, who volunteered to show 8th graders the high school campus recently, including her sibling, and who will again be a lead camp counselor at a local day camp this summer.

Recently we all went to a high school event called "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Stars: Battle of the Bands" where students and teachers alike danced in teams to supergroup music and compete for the fun of it. We went last year and it was so much fun! The gym was again packed!

This year, Beatrice is in a high school production of High School Musical, and some of her theater mates and her did a flash mob routine during one of the dance routines at the Dancing with the Santa Cruz Stars. Even more fun!

After the dance competition, I loved seeing both our kids talking and laughing with their friends. My heart danced and sang watching Bryce embrace the evening with a rare joy; they're so done with 8th grade and excited to be in high school next year. Both kids will be in choir together next year, and the high school choir teacher, known as Mr. T, won the dancing competition this year, dancing impressively with another student to a medley of Wham songs. We can't wait to see what Beatrice and Bryce do in choir next year, especially after Bryce's inspirational solos the 8th talent show.

We're grateful that both of our kids push themselves out of their own comfort zones, which is easier for Beatrice, but not so much for Bryce. They both do it nonetheless, and whether they want to admit it or not, are both grateful for improving their own wellbeing and embracing life. 

Blessings to us all. We are all but fragile beings and the comfort of gratitude strengthens our resolve to live and to thrive in the face of anything. 

#BhivePower works.

We Will Not Be Erased

When Bryce shared their vision statement about organizing a local march event to support the rights of LGBTQIA+ people, we were more than proud and supportive.

Hello! My name is Bryce Grossman, I’m a 14 year old living in Santa Cruz and I identify as nonbinary. I’m inviting you to participate in an event I’m hosting, “WE WILL NOT BE ERASED”. I’ve always had activist ideals and I finally felt compelled enough to make something happen. I’m quite tired of waking up everyday fearing for mine and other’s safety and wellbeing. I want this event to help people feel empowered to live their truth, to not hide themselves away. 

I hope this event will build a stronger community around a shared goal of respect for LGBTQIA+, and in solidarity of all marginalized groups.

Amen. "In solidarity of all marginalized groups".

My wife Amy and I have always wanted our children to understand the historical systemic problems that continue to negatively impact and diminish the lives of women, LGBTQIA+ people, people of color, people in poverty, immigrants, people with mental health problems, people with special needs and disabilities, and other marginalized groups. 

And not just to understand all this systemic discrimination and why we need equitable rights. To also think critically about what's really happening today and how to make the world a better place for all, instead of a dark dystopian place for all. A more empathetic and inclusive place for everyone. Including the very people and governments that perpetuate this systemic discrimination and division.

I guess that means we're "woke", something that too many around the world misunderstand and use against the very people who want to be better informed, educated, and conscious of social injustice and racial inequality. That's literally what woke means. But that's not necessarily appropriate for us, since it comes from the Black community and is in reference to the racism they've experienced and how they need to be aware of it all to survive.

Regardless, we want to be better informed, educated, and conscious of social injustice and racial inequality. Today when I hear things like "the woke radical left ideology endangers our children", it makes me angry and frustrated. Because it's these very anti-woke policies that minimize the marginalized, sustain systemic discrimination, and only make the world safer and fair for the conservative-right in power.

If you know anything about history, you know where this all could go because of where it has gone before:

• Tulsa Race Massacre (1921)
• Apartheid in South Africa (1948–1994)
• Japanese American Internment (1942–1945)
• The Pulse Nightclub Shooting (2016)
• Stonewall Riots (1969)
• Chechnya Anti-Gay Purge (2017–present)
• Holocaust (1941–1945)
• Cambodian Genocide (1975–1979)
• Rwandan Genocide (1994)

Just do an online search for any of these to learn more. One horrific act of violence after another. The slippery slope to all this continues to be greased in America today, with shifting societal scapegoat norms, and co-opted racism, sexism, misogyny, and more at the highest levels of government, all leading to discriminatory government policies against specific groups. Deporting immigrants. Dismantling DEI. Deleting LGBTQIA+ and women's rights. And the list goes on and on in today's America (and around the world).

Which is again why when Bryce told us they wanted to organize a student march for the rights of LGBTQIA+ people in partnership with The Diversity Center, we were more than enthusiastic. They have been paying attention to what's happening around them and do not want to be erased. 

As the adults and parents in the room, we've been involved in protests and marches when it comes to protecting the civil rights of others, contacted our elected officials, written articles, have fought the good fight on the ground where we live, and have encouraged the activism of our children. But I've felt exhausted and hopeless the past few months, not sure what to do, if anything. 

Bryce decided to step up and speak out. They are braver than me and have given us hope that we can and should continue to speak out and protest where this country is headed. 

Supporting the rights of one group never has to come at the expense of others, not when it supports all our rights as humans and citizens. And yet, that's exactly what America is doing. 

We will not be erased, Bryce. We will do everything we can to ensure that. 

A Longing for Loving Connection

We were on our way back hiking down the mountain when I shared something with my friends that I hadn't ever shared with them before. The fact that I was molested as a child by my first stepfather. 

They were quiet for a moment, then apologetic and comforting. Even though I had written about it here in this space, it wasn't something I had ever told them directly. I had told Robby a long time ago, my best friend who passed away recently, but I guess it was easier to write about it over the years, and discuss during therapy, than talk about it with my friends. 

We've told each other a lot of things over the years, just not this, but I trusted my friends and felt it was time to be vulnerable and share this traumatic life experience with them. We continued to walk down the hill in silence after I shared this experience, and then one of them said:

"So, I guess you really can point to the place on the doll where he touched you."

Awkward laughter. Relief. Release. And yet another inappropriate exchange between dear friends of 45+ years. But we do care for each other and share a close brotherly love, through all the years of relentless teasing and non-family friendly humor. We shared a lot over the years, warts and all (but not genital warts -- that's a joke, kids). 

This hike we took was part of a recent weekend spent grieving and celebrating our friendships and relationships with each other and our dear friend, Robby. We started planning a memorial for him and put a long playlist together in his honor (which we're targeting for May 31 in Visalia, CA). Music has always been a big part of our lives and each of his adding songs that impacted our lives and his was a lot of fun and cathartic. Thank goodness we've invested in these connective-tissue times together over the years that has deepened our bonds. 

Because unfortunately, too many of us are lonely and depressed these days. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), about 1 in 3 adults in the U.S. report feeling lonely. And about 1 in 4 U.S. adults report not having social and emotional support. 

According to another article specifically on male loneliness: 

Research conducted in 2021 by the American Survey Center reported that 15% of men claim they have no close friends, a 12% increase since 1990. Additionally, Equimundo published a study in 2023 that found a majority of men from Millennials to Gen Z agree with the statement, “No one really knows me well.” In the same publication, a majority of the men said they only have one or two close friends they feel comfortable confiding in outside their family.

And the research goes on and on and it impacts all generations and backgrounds. Unfortunately, too many men turn to toxic masculinity, deriding women and other marginalized groups as a way to deflect from the turmoil and loneliness inside that desperately longs empathic love and support. As I wrote in one of my recent articles, I grew up with an abusive birth father and stepfather and swore that I would never be that way. 

I've struggled with my own loneliness and depression over the years, unable to express how I feel and ask for what I need, but eventually I become an empathic advocate and an ally for men and women alike. My wife has been my greatest advocate and whose friendship I'm deeply grateful for. She's helped me normalize love and empathy in my life, and in turn, I've done the same with our children and my friends. 

But it's these recent times I've spent with my friends, including before Robby passed, that reminded me of how grateful I've been to have these and many other positive male friendships. Even when we don't talk see each other very often, we check in with texts and occasional calls. Each of us talked with Robby at least once a week in recent years.

I hope our children find these types of positive and supportive friendships that are meaningful and nonjudgmental, that make space for vulnerability and understanding, especially when loneliness and depression blinds the heart's optimism and a longing for loving connection. 

Other past posts about and related to these friends of mine:

• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Endless Possibilities Actually
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• 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
• Daddy Day in Monterey

The Meddling Mentors

It's an awe-inspiring thing, watching your children grow up. And not just for the bigger milestones of age and physical growth and going from elementary school to middle school to high school. It's also for the subtle, incremental maturity moments of their emotional and psychological growth. 

Being a teenager in any generation isn't easy. It's full of hormonal changes, front cortex development, indecision, anxiety, anger, depression, streaming opinions, self-awareness, emotional swings and sass, introversion and extroversion, and yes, radiating moments of pure joy. Like the Inside Out movies on steroids. 

All these changes and experiences are coming at them constantly and they're woven together like a patchwork quilt they wrap around themselves and wear with pride. With disdain. With uncertainty. 

Our youngest Bryce wore their quilt with disdain. They had felt disconnected from people, including us, and extremely introverted and anxious. But we never stopped caring for Bryce, loving them, ensuring we invested in whatever support they needed, encouraging them to develop their passion through music -- singing in the school choir and learning to play guitar.

Bryce never wanted to sing a solo. Like ever. Their choir teacher encouraged them the past two years, but it was always a no-go. Bryce never wanted to even sing in front of us or play their guitar for us (except for when one of us takes them to their guitar lessons).

But then something changed. Bryce's patchwork quilt brightened in the sunlight over the past year with their belief that they could do it (and more). And not just their belief either -- the actual doing of the things with a celebratory heart. Every year Bryce's choir runs a talent show where the kids are encouraged to sing their favorite songs with solos, duets, quartets, or other combos.

Bryce just didn't take on one solo -- they took on four solos total -- radiating with moments of pure joy. 

Our oldest Beatrice had also worn her quilt with cocooned anxiety. Always second-guessing her decisions and her learning ability, she's struggled with feeling confident in her activities and experiences, especially about her classes. It always taken her a little longer than her peers to process what she's learning.

But she's learned to adapt and how to approach learning that works for her and has thrived in school. It's not without a lot of ongoing work, and we've never stopped helping her whenever we can, getting the support she needs when she's needed it. 

Now, she's taking honors classes and will take some AP classes, planning for college and career, stretching herself constantly to learn, adapt, and thrive. She's in theater -- acting, singing, and dancing. She's joining choir next year (and her sister will be in high school choir, too). 

Those incremental, maturity moments of our teens emotional and psychological growth aren't without setbacks and a need to reset; that's just how it works growing up (and growing old). But the key for any of us is how we respond to these setbacks, and what then we do in the shadows of uncertainty and despair. For us as parents to watch them both learn, adapt, and thrive more and more on their own has again been awe-inspiring.

In fact, for me, they've become the meddling mentors, hungry to understand what's made us tick since we were their age, what makes us tick today, and what makes them tick today (and what's coming tomorrow). They're not afraid of asking the hard questions, not afraid of pressing for answers, not afraid of who they are and who they're becoming, while constantly reminding us of why we became parents in the first place. Of why we are who we are today. Of why we want a better world for them and all of us, and the fact they want the same.

Normalize Love and Empathy

I've always been a hopeful and empathic male. Read any of my posts since 2007 and that's clear. I grew up mostly as a lower middle-class white male, yes, and still very privileged in an inequitable world, but I never had any issues with supporting gender or racial equality and equity.

As I reflect now on where the world is today, half the world does have a problem with equality and equity. But half the world also conflates equality with equity repeatedly, something those who decry DEI do regularly (which I don't), misrepresenting much of what the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and related programs intended for inclusivity, equity, and fairness. Even the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), first proposed in 1923, has never been fully ratified as the 28th amendment to the U.S. Constitution. 

Equality means treating everyone the same by giving them the same resources or opportunities, regardless of individual differences or disadvantages.

Equity means providing resources or opportunities based on individual needs to ensure fair outcomes. It recognizes that people start from different positions and may require different levels of support.

Although both are important, it's the later example that is the most meaningful to me, as well as the most accurate of what underrepresented and underserved segments of the population experience day to day -- starting from different positions and requiring different levels of support -- i.e., women, people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, immigrants, etc.

But discussing equity is more polarizing than ever because too many people don't take the time to understand what it really means. Too many people also get their news and information from fragmented sources that sustain their biases and continue to negatively impact their perceptions of the world around them. 

I didn't grow up with that kind of fragmented news and information (social media, podcasts, etc.), but Gen Z more than any other generation to date has. That includes our two teens, which is why we discuss these issues openly as a family, leaving space for questions and disagreements. 

Siloed information and an erosion of shared experiences have both impacted the younger generation, especially men, to become resentful of both gender equality and equity. Hyper-masculine anti-woke content and podcasts abound, contributing to bullying and the discounting of women, people of color, and the LGBTQ+ community.

According to Jackson Katz, researcher and activist about issues of gender, race, and violence: "We’re witnessing a global backlash against women’s progress, since the past 50 years have seen unbelievable challenges to patriarchal norms. Trumpism and rightwing populism isn’t a revolt against the ‘elites’; it’s a reaction to men being de-centered and a backlash against feminism."

Sadly, we're seeing many wealthy male elites and leaders of today fueling this backlash in the guise of meritocracy and return-to-office mandates. I don't understand and can't relate to them or the younger (and older) generation of men who feel they've been displaced by women and feminism. By Black and Brown people. By LGBTQ+ people. By misunderstanding and misrepresenting diversity, equity, and inclusion. 

I grew up with an abusive birth father and stepfather, and swore that I would never be that way. I have struggled with my own faults and prejudices over the years, but I knew I'd always be an advocate and an ally, and my wife the same.

We must once and for all change this systemic and abusive patriarchal leadership, for us, our children, and the world, or we will all suffer a degrading, dangerous fate of being bullied, beaten, and erased. I did not choose to grow up in a patriarchal society then, and neither did our children today, so our entire family will do everything we can to loudly oppose this growing surge of toxic masculinity and normalize love and empathy. 

What Happens Next

"...You may be right

It's all a waste of time

I guess that's just a chance I'm prepared to take

A danger I'm prepared to face

Cut to the chase

What kind of difference can one person make?

Cut to the chase..."

–Rush, Cut to the Chase 

I needed a distraction. Something fun with the family that could shield me temporarily from work stress, from America slipping away, from grieving my best friend's passing, and from existential exhaustion. Feeling helpless and overwhelmed by it all, I just needed a break from how my brain has been reacting of late. 

The Santa Cruz Clam Chowder Cook-Off was upon us and never disappoints. It's a weekend full of yummy local chowders cooked up by both amateurs and professionals and held at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. And this year our oldest Beatrice worked the event, selling tasting kits and merchandise. 

Beatrice finished her shift and joined my wife Amy, her sibling Bryce, and me to start tasting the chowders. It's always a busy event, rain or shine, and this year the weather was fabulous. Within the first hour of tasting there was wall-to-wall people walking around, waiting in chowder tasting lines, or waiting to ride the amusement park rides. But mercy me the chowder is always a treat with dozens of chowder booths to choose from. After a few samples I'm always full. 

It was fun, and momentarily distracting, but my life nagged at me like a child pulling on my shirt on the verge of a tantrum. I looked up to watch the 100-year-old Giant Dipper roller coaster train race down the first precipitous drop. That's the trope, I thought. That the world is just a big, scary roller coaster without safety bars or straps, and we've got to hold on with all our might for fear of flying out and plunging to our deaths. 

Yikes, Kevin. What the hell?

There were so many people at the Boardwalk, that it was a little overwhelming at times, but we were still so glad that we went. Families and friends alike who all just wanted a break from whatever daily stress they face to have a little fun, ride some rides, play some arcade games, and eat some chowder (and a variety of amusement park junk food). 

But after the chowder cook-off, I was still full of existential exhaustion. Since my dear friend Robby passed, I've struggled more than I thought I would with his death, my own mortality, and what I've done with my life. Over the years, he'd always say to me, "You know, sometimes I wish this would all end, but then I think, I still really want to see what happens next. You know what I mean?"

I know, Robby. I do. And even at our lowest points, we still wanted to see what happened next. The difference you made in my life, and so many others, was indelible. 

Because of that, I just can't feel this way today. I'm still here and I can't feel like I don't and won't make a difference. You would tell me I have much work to do, just as my inspirational wife and children do. They are working hard to make a difference in the world around them. They proudly speak actionable truths that took decades for me to articulate and live. They not only want to see what happens next; they want to be the positive change of what happens next. 

And dammit, so do I. 

Superman's Love Letter

The last time I talked with Robby, he sounded good, but he had never been frailer. We talked about the visit we had just had together a week earlier with the five of us -- Robby, Greg, Craig, Rob, and me -- friends of over 45 years. He told me he was grateful for our visit and our friendship. 

He also wanted to again explain why he dug into Greg about our transgressions of the past. The times decades earlier when we'd come visit him and selfishly party it up like we were fraternity brothers on spring break, which we were all complicit in doing, including him. 

He was always the past re-hasher of things and that was okay. It was always his way of working through the continuous trauma of being paralyzed since his swimming accident in 1984. Going to visit him was our annual pilgrimage of doing the same.

During that last conversation, he asked me, "Did you watch the video I made yet?"

I hadn't. "No, not yet. I've been off Facebook for over a month now."

"Oh, I get it, but you should login and watch it," he said.

"I will."

But I didn't. I did remember the last night we were at his house, though. I had already been asleep for a couple of hours, but then I woke up hearing Robby and Greg talking in living room. I went to see what they were doing. Robby sat on the couch with sunglasses on and the big glowing grin he was known for, and Greg sat across from him in a chair. 

"What are you guys doing?" I asked.

"I'm filming Robby," Greg said.

"Yeah man, you're going to want to check it out. It's been about a year and half since the last time I did this," Robby said. 

"Night," I said, and returned to the bedroom and my air mattress. I smiled at them, but I was tired and had to head out early the next morning. 

After we talked that last time on the phone, I still hadn't watched the video. Three days later I got a call from Robby's sister, Diana. Usually, she texts us if something's up with Robby's health, but a phone call meant something entirely different. I knew even before she said the words -- Robby was gone. 

He'd been quite fragile the past few years, his long-term paralysis taking its toll on his body. He'd been in and out of the hospital with brittle broken bones and various infections. He also struggled with chronic neurological pain. His traveling anywhere beyond the city of Chico where he lived had been over for many years. When we last visited him, he had turned 59. 

After our last visit two weeks ago, I wrote (again) about how Robby, broke his neck our senior year in high school. It was spring break, April 18, 1984, and he was a swimmer at a local swim meet. During one of the races, he false started three times in a row, which disqualified him from that race. On the third false start, instead following through on the dive, he went straight down on the back of his neck. 

Some of our other friends, including me, were at the coast for the day (which for us was a 2.5-hour drive). We tried to get him to skip the swim meet, but he really wanted to compete. There were no cell phones back then, so we didn't know what happened until my friend Charles dropped me off in front of my house where dozens of high school friends stood, many crying. After we learned what had happened, we fled to the hospital. 

He relived his accident every day since it happened. We relived it every time we were there with him or when we talked with him on the phone. His accident was a shared trauma for all of us, his friends. It was a shared trauma for our entire high school and our community. 

We were friends before Robby's accident, but our friendships were bound together forever because of it, and our pilgrimages to see him over the decades have been our collective catharsis of healing. He would've given anything to walk again. We would've given anything. Decades of love, laughter (lots of it), and tears were what willed our healing into being.

After I got off the phone with his sister and learned of his passing, I finally watched the video he'd made the last time we were all together, less than two weeks before. I cried. I watched it multiple times and cried again. It was a love letter to our friendships. He was grateful that we remained friends after all these years and that we kept coming to see him. It was classic Robby -- extroverted warmth, humor, sincerity, and of course, soundtracked to music. His sister was right: "He lived the biggest life anyone in his situation could have. Robby had a golden glow that I’m sure still radiates from him wherever he is."

Halloween of our senior year, six months before his accident, Robby dressed up as Superman. It was iconic because he was iconic. After his accident, he was trapped in 1984 forever while he lived the biggest life he could in the decades that followed. He'll always be Superman to us, and the last video he made for us was Superman's love letter to friendship.

Our hearts ache, but we see you standing there now, my friend and brother, and we love you.

Other past posts about and related to these friends of mine:

• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Endless Possibilities Actually
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• 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
• Daddy Day in Monterey

Hope Is Always "Here"

We watched it together as a family. That wasn't unusual, as we do watch various shows together, but there's not too many movies that we all agree on.

And this one wasn't necessarily agreed upon at first; our youngest Bryce usually doesn't like the movies that Mom and Dad pick out. Our oldest Beatrice doesn't feel the same way, but it's still harder to align likability for all of us. 

Everyone seemed interested in this one, though. The movie was Here starring Tom Hanks and Robin Wright and the reviews were not very good. There was still something intriguing about it with the primary movie scene set in the same place over time: a living room with a big window to the world beyond. There was also something Wes Anderson-esque about that, which is why Bryce and me really liked the way it was filmed. It was also based on a graphic novel by Richard McGuire, something both our artist teens like, especially Beatrice. 

The story itself focused more on one family over time, but the movie didn't always work. What did work was the theme and it resonated with all of us. The theme for us, of loving where you live and who you live it with -- "here". Bryce and I cried; we are the family criers, that's for sure. Amy (Mom) and Beatrice are feelers, just not criers. 

While we watched together, Beatrice laid on Amy and Bryce laid on me. This "here" for me has always been special. We've lived here for nearly 19 years and are grateful for every moment that we've had in this house. We lived here before we decided to have children. Bryce was born in this house. Beatrice was supposed to be. Our kids have grown up in this house (and continue to). They shared a room until middle school, and after some renovating, now each has their own. 

We've lived in every inch of this house. We've loved, laughed, cried, screamed, brooded, and laughed and loved some more. There's no other place we'd rather be than here while the world keeps spinning outside our front window. That spinning "here" includes the community we live in, the state we live in, the country we live in, the world we live in. We're Americans who love our "here".

But our "here" is in danger; we've never lived in fear until now. American democracy has certainly had its challenges and setbacks, but today it's being transformed from the inside-out by a fast-moving coup that's doing everything it can to take away our civil rights, our education, our livelihoods, and our safety, all for the sake of oppressive power and control. Even those who supported it all and who think these changes will benefit them will lose it all in the end, too. 

That's the point -- that we all lose in the end except for a wealthy few. And in the meantime, these dismantling actions are supposed to make your head spin. To make you scared. To paralyze you. To make you give up. But we stand tall where you are and stay vigilant. Fight the good fights about human rights when and where you can. Speak up, speak out, and speak truth for a better bigger picture. 

Today, our morning meditation mantra was this: Hope is my source of strength. It provides the endurance needed for positive and sustained change. As I look around our house and out our window, I know that hope is always "here", and our family is all in.