A Series of Fortunate Events

At first, it felt like a series of unfortunate events...

When my wife Amy came back a few minutes after she had just left, I knew something was wrong with the car. 

She came back inside the house and said, "There's a bolt in the front tire."

"F-ck," I said. 

"Can you contact the Hyundai roadside assistance?" Amy asked me. 

"Yes, I will. We have the worst frickin' tire luck in the world," I said.

"I know, but at least the car maintenance is fully covered," she said. 

"We'll still have to have it towed to the dealer, though. F-ck."

This was only three months into having our new car. It's like every six months we're dealing with a screw or bolt or nail in our tires. 

Like everything that happens in adulting world that we can't put off and have to take care of, it can be a life-drag momentary buzzkill. "It's only time and money" Amy and I joke when these things happen. Time and money. And sometimes the money might not always be there, but there's sure as hell always time. Time you can never get back.

Then came the news of my sister in ICU battling recurring health problems. So, the day after the tire was fixed, we drove four hours to see how we could help my niece and nephew and their mom. 

While we were gone, we got a call from our oldest Beatrice that there were ants all over our kitchen. We coached her on cleanup and she did the best she could. There wasn't anything else we could do until we were home again. 

After returning home, we assessed ant situation and saw that our neighbors had an exterminator over because they also had an ant infestation. So, Amy called the exterminator and they came over to our house to spray. This was during our morning workout, which was frustrating to me, because that's important time for me, both physically and mentally, but I knew we had to take care of it. Blessings to my wife for managing that. 

Then we had our handyman come over to replace the faucet mixer valves on our shower and bath. We didn't have all the right parts at first, so that delayed the fixing. Once we did have all the parts, the shower went fine, but the bathtub faucet did not. No matter what he did, there was no hot water, and it wouldn't stop leaking out of the faucet. He finally got the hot water adjusted, but it still wouldn't stop leaking, and now we have to call a plumber. Amy had been researching it to see if we could fix it ourselves, but I knew if I touched it, there would've been a horizontal geyser drenching us both.

During this week of continuous un-fun things, I attended a work conference in Las Vegas for a few days. I enjoyed the time with my team, seeing old industry friends, and some yummy meals, but it was a lonely drag being away from my wife and kids. I felt overwhelmed by it all because I was also woefully behind on work research reports, and the conference time increased that distance further. I kept checking in on my sister who was stable and out of ICU but still not well. Plus, the wifi in my room didn't work well, and the hotspot on my phone didn't work at all, so I had to sit in the food court of the casino hotel with pop music playing too loudly around me to get some work done. All the while the divided world outside burned.

Used to be that when life got overwhelming for me, my anxiety would bind my mind with barbed wire, and my heart would sink to the bottom of the sea. I'd get depressed and completely check out from everyone around me. But over the years I've learned to better adapt, stay centered (somewhat) no matter how askew, and keep going. That doesn't stop me from being grump-fussy; I rail at the universe and let it know I will persevere. Amy helps me with that along the way as well (even when I'm grump-fussy with her). Our meditation practice has helped a lot, too. And if the universe is God, and God is the universe, blessings to us all.

What felt like a string of unfortunate things ultimately became a series of fortunate events. Ones that included seeing family we don't see that often. Ones that included seeing colleagues I don't see that often. Ones that included hearing our youngest Bryce's solo audition video for choir while I was away at the conference. Ones that included talking about what colleges to attend with Beatrice after I got back. Ones that include petting our purring cat first thing in the morning then walking our dog. Ones that included a wonderful mountain hike with Amy to reflect and decompress from the bumpy week we had just had. 

Ones that included having a celebratory dinner for your daughter's 17th birthday. Time and money got nothing on these things. Fortunate indeed. 

For the Rest of My Life

There's only one person I've ever wished would die. I'm not sure if that's something I should be proud of, or admit to, or to write down here, but it's true. Not only wishing him to die, but wanting to kill him.

Why? Because he was a horribly abusive man who terrorized my mother, emotionally abused my sister, and sexually abused me. Two and half years of our lives that felt like forever every day. This was our first stepfather after our mother divorced our birth father, another broken man who was an alcoholic, abused our mother, and neglected my sister and me, who I eventually forgave decades later.

Both our birth father and first stepfather are long gone now. My vengeful hate is long gone. I'm grateful for the latter. Blessings to anyone struggling with past personal trauma, who can envision themselves striking back against those who have wronged them. Because if you act on it, you cross a Rubicon you can never return from, and it will never change what prompted the vengeful act in the first place. Decades later, forgiving and letting go were the only viable solutions for me. That was transformative for me and helped me to be a better human, husband, and father. 

But there are many kinds of personal and societal trauma today that need the positive support structures. mindsets, and skills to heal from them. Today, extreme political and socioeconomic polarization traumatize our world (again). Some are striking back and being celebrated for doing so. Killing or hurting, or attempting to kill or hurt, vilified CEOs, billionaires, Presidents, other elected officials, judges, political influencers, celebrities, and others. Those we blame for our personal woes, the woes of others, and/or those who we vehemently disagree with. 

For me, there are two problems going on simultaneously. Two problems that are impacting the lives of too many around the world. Those are the aggressive and violent overreactions to the extremism, and those who support the extremism (or selective parts of it) on either end of the spectrum. Both are dangerous to the rest of us. The rest of us who believe empathy and finding common ground are key to closing the disagreement gap, not destroying it. It's harder when things are batshit crazy and false, on either side of the spectrum. Because the rest of us in between don't revel in the demise of others we disagree with, or blame for our woes and/or the woes of others, or wish them to die, or to kill them. 

It's just as hard for me to accept the rhetoric of those who agree with selective parts of any extremist dialogue than it is to grapple directly with full-throated extremism itself. And it's dangerous that so many have demonized leading with love and empathy. I don't understand how anyone can say empathy is destroying our world, because I believe the very people who believe that are the ones leaving a path of destruction for the rest of us, especially for our children. How can the ability to understand and share the feelings of others be evil? It's this backwards alternative universe we find ourselves in that frightens me the most. 

This isn't a Stephen King novel where we can take out a supposed antagonist to prevent a cataclysmic event. But sadly we're devolving into our violent human past and the extremism is killing civility and compromise. And each other. I've always been supportive of free speech, but I disagree with "agreeing to disagree" when the "disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist" (thank you, James Baldwin). The difference is that I'm not going to counter by killing. Blessings to those lost and their families because of it.

I know I'm not without bias or incapable of consuming poisoned beliefs, but I'm going to do everything I can to counter them for the rest of my life by rising above and leading with love, mindfulness, and empathy, without shame, judgment, or retribution. Amen.

The Main Mom-and-Dad Thing

Every time I had an asthma attack, it felt like a ton of hot gravel had filled my lungs. My face would wash out white and I had to slump over to help me breathe better. And if I got a cold with my asthma, it became horrid no-sleep coughing jag for many nights, getting little to no sleep.

This was when I was little until I was a teen. The severe allergies and asthma I had as a child literally faded away in high school. But then they came back decades later in adulthood. Not as bad as then, but still bad, especially when I'd get a nasty cold combo.

When I was little, I suffered less because my mom did everything she could to comfort me and take care of me. My birth father and first father shared no love or support for me or my sister, but Mom never stopped caring for us. Never stopped caring for me when I was sick and felt like I could barely breathe.

When my wife Amy and I decided to have children, we went in fully invested in keeping them well. Or, as well as we could. From shared family throw-up bowls, to all-night comfort zones, to empathetically living their anguish when our kids were sick -- we were always there together. 

Especially Amy. I'm a loving, caring father, but I'm not the Mom. And that's okay. As an adult, Amy takes care of me and the kids when we're sick. I, of course, do the same, but I don't have the same softer empathic touch that she has. I'm just a little rougher around the edges when it comes to comfort. 

Regardless of our respective styles, we both care deeply when any of us don't feel good. Mentally or physically. When we dealt with our kids' middle school anxiety angst, we did it with patience, listening, and a lot of love. We were also grateful to provide them with whatever they needed to adapt and persevere. 

When our kids get physically sick, like with colds, it sucks all around for us all. It sucks for them because it simply sucks to be sick, and it sucks for us because Mom and I just want to make it all better, but we can't. It's got to run its course. We can comfort them and give them medicine if need be to treat the symptoms, like cold medicine and decongestant, which helped Bryce a few weeks ago. And after an urgent care visit for our oldest Beatrice recently, an inhaler. Such a bummer for both kids to get sick right after school started.

But we never thought that the cold medicine and inhaler would make Beatrice sick. An inhaler was always my go-to when I had allergy and asthma attacks, especially when it got exacerbated by a cold and a rough cough. Just like what Beatrice got, but for Beatrice, they just made her feel worse. 

Bea's on the mend now and catching up on the school she missed. Bryce did the same before her. Thankfully none of us get sick that often, but when we do, it sucks. It's hard enough when Mom and Dad get sick, because we have to keep doing our Mom-and-Dad things, like taking care of the family, the pets, the house, the work, the everything. To be fair, our teens do have their chores and help us around the house. 

But when the kids are sick, the main Mom-and-Dad thing is loving and caring for them, whether they're 5 and 7, or 15 and 17. I'm sure that will continue to be true for our family, even when they're taking care of us someday. 

Getting the Part

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Manifesting The World We Want

The night our youngest raged on about the end of the world has stayed with me like the ghosts of a bad dream. One that sours in the moments before awakening. Except that when we're awake, the world sours even more in real time, becoming a nagging shadow that whispers bittersweet worries throughout the day.

It's not the first time it's felt like the "end of the world" as we know it (or the "end of the world" period). My wife Amy and I remember the 1980's fear of nuclear war with the former Soviet Union. The first Gulf War in the early 1990's. Then more genocides like Rwandan, Bosnia, and Darfur. September 11, 2001. Covid-19. The war in Ukraine. The Israel-Palestine Conflict. Ongoing climate change and horrific natural disasters. The insurrection of January 6, 2021, and America's slide into fascism, with truth, accountability, and the rule of law having literally gone over a cliff where the gravity of the fall could crush us all. Welcome to the Great American shakedown free-for-fall.

Our teens are now painfully aware of these current events. It weighs on their futures like a black hole's gravity. It weighs on all of us and steals our light. Doom-scrolling biased misinformation adds to this gravity, so we've all worked on moderating that behavior in our house, but it has prompted us to prepare. Amy is our disaster prepper, not in a fanatical way, but just enough so we have extra water and food and other emergency supplies "just in case". We also live with constant fire danger and earthquake danger that warrants being prepared.

Our children depend on us, the adults in the room, for safety, security, and sanity in an otherwise constantly changing world with natural disasters and manmade dumpster fires. Of course, there still are many good people trying to make a positive difference for their communities around the world. But the "powers that be" around the world seem to continually self-corrupt and suck all the light out of the room.

As parents, we do our best to talk about current events with our kids, especially when they ask about what's happening around us. We do our best to console them without compromising the truth (or as much of the truth that we can decipher) and encourage them to think positively about their lives and their futures. To live their lives and their futures. To fight for their lives, their rights, and their futures. And for everybody's else's, too. Because today, all our futures are at risk.

We've been here before and the gravity hasn't crushed us yet. I'm counting on the fact we can still make a difference, although this free-for-fall feels different somehow. Perception depends on how you feel in the moment, and I believe another moment will come. We know that worrying only helps to manifest the things we fear the most, so we'll keep manifesting the world we want, and take the actions needed to get there and stay there.

All for One Bag of Groceries

Right as I headed toward the exit, the guy next to me going through the other door was stopped by store security. I assume the security guard had asked to see the guy's receipt because the guy waved it in front of the security guard. The security guard was young and his face gave no indication of fear or hesitation. The guy who was stopped by the guard had a scruffy beard and wore a nondescript t-shirt, shorts, and a backwards baseball cap. With him was either his girlfriend or wife I assumed, also wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Seemingly just another summer shopping day at Safeway.

It was then the guy started yelling that he had paid for the groceries and he was going to leave. He held a big container of sour cream in one hand and something else in the other that I couldn't see. Maybe those were the items in question not on the receipt. He kept yelling and threw the sour cream to the ground. It exploded in a white splat. That's when a female store clerk rushed up and wrapped her arms around him in a big bear hug. I exited at that point.

Only 15 minutes earlier my wife Amy and our oldest Beatrice went into the store for a few groceries, and I was to exchange a propane tank. Safeway's not a favorite place to shop but it is down the street from us and convenient for items we can't get at Trader Joe's. Amy and Beatrice started shopping and I approached another store clerk who ran the self-checkout area. That's when I first saw the guy and his girlfriend scanning their items. I asked the clerk about exchanging the propane tank and she told me to wait in a one of the regular checkout aisles to purchase the refill. 

After I finished the propane tank exchange, I went back into the store to find Amy and Beatrice. I saw them and Amy waved me over to them. Even before I headed their way, I could hear the commotion to the left of me where the female store clerk continued to bear hug the guy and the security guard was trying to hold on to his right arm. The guy kept yelling he had paid for the other groceries and he just wanted to leave. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. But they weren't letting him go and it looked like the store clerk holding him was on her phone, I assumed calling the police. Another store clerk confirmed that, otherwise we would've called.

We were worried about whether or not the guy had a weapon, but if he did, he hadn't tried to go for it since the female store held on to him with all her might. No other store clerks came forward to help and we didn't see any other security guards. 

We completed our self-checkout and headed to another exit on the other side of the store with our one bag of groceries, away from the scuffle, which showed no signs of letting up. They wrestled with the guy and knocked over a few displays in the process and he kept yelling he paid for the one bag groceries that now sat on the ground near the customer service counter. But no cops had showed yet. One shopper called out to let him go. Everyone just stared. 

It had already been over 20 minutes since the confrontation started. No matter how much I wanted to help, I just would've put myself in harm's way. As Amy has trained our family for many years, channeling Kidpower safety skills, always move away from danger, not toward it. Beatrice definitely concurred and kept reminding us of that as we left. 

The whole incident was sad, though, representative of modern-day haves and have nots, the greater socioeconomic divide that widens daily. We didn't know anything about the guy or his girlfriend who fled. Did they have warrants out for their arrest? Obviously he had paid for some of his groceries, so was he just down on his luck trying to steal a few extra items? Was he mentally ill? An addict? Recently laid off? Homeless? Did he have any weapons on him? Had he done this at Safeway before? Growing up in law enforcement, I would've assumed the store employees would've let him go, with or without the groceries he supposedly paid for, especially after they took a picture of him, waiting for the police to arrive. 

Again, we had no idea what this guy's story was. The store clerk and security guard were still fighting with him when we left, and the police hadn't arrived yet. All for one bag of groceries. 

Empathic Parenting Outperforms the Punitive

Even as I got upset about the article I read, I couldn't help but think about that time with our youngest Bryce. The time when they were five years old and I had to carry them thrashing and kicking out of CVS. I was on a mission to get last minute cheap and fun little Christmas gifts for my wife Amy (yes, I'm one of those guys). Bryce had a meltdown because they wanted a toy they weren't going to get. Our oldest Beatrice tried to help, but as a seven-year-old, that's not easy to do when your sibling is out of control in a store and you're trying to get them out safely. 

It wasn't the first or last time Bryce had melted down growing up. But I never thought of punishing them to attempt to extinguish the behavior. That never would've worked because it would've fueled the melt down further. Instead, we always did our best to secure them safely and let the tantrum burn out, which it always did. Yelling at them and/or shaming them would've exacerbated the problem and just create fear, distrust, and resentment.

A recent Wall Street Journal article titled "Goodbye Gentle Parenting, Hello ‘F—Around and Find Out’" (paywall) is what got me upset and thinking about all of this. Even before I read the article the title alone made me mad. "Goodby Gentle Parenting" -- as if parenting with love, empathy, positive discipline, and of course, Kidpower, was feeble and weak and not conducive to deterring poor behavior.  

The article went on to share "tough love" parenting examples like throwing your child into a pond because they were "acting up" and not listening or biting your child back if they bit you.

WTH?

I don't care if it worked or not in the short term, that's nuts and will not help you raise respectful and responsible kids. Instead, it will help you raise bullies. And if your kids have any kind of mental health issues, it's potentially worse for the kids' mental health if they've been treated punitively (which was the way it was for a long, long time). 

Punitive discipline can have a lasting negative impact on your children. When my sister and I were growing up, we were spanked for misbehaving and our mouths washed out with a bar of soap for cursing. That did not necessarily get me to stop the behaviors, but it certainly made me fearful and angry. Fortunately, our mom moved on from that discipline style in our late childhood -- and thank goodness! But the lasting impact for me is that I continually fight against my punitive-mode origins. 

Yes, I can be a fussy dad, but I've worked on it every day since we first had Beatrice and then Bryce. Amy and I intentionally parent with respect, empathy, and positive discipline. Positive discipline's goal is to teach, guide, and encourage better behavior in the future. This includes using respect, clear expectations, natural/logical consequences, and encouraging our kids to foster self-control, which is what we've done since they were little. 

Removing Bryce from the meltdown's crater all those years ago was a natural consequence. They weren't getting the toy they wanted and so we were no longer going to be around the toys they wanted. Once Bryce cooled down, then we had a discussion about why they couldn't have the toy. Not a super in-depth conversation when your child is five, but you've got to start somewhere. Now that both Beatrice and Bryce are teens, the positive discipline payoff has been the strength of our parent/child relationships, their relationships with others, and their value of self.

Do we do it right every time? Nope, but we're pretty damn consistent otherwise. Do our kids get where we're coming from all the time? Nope, but they listen and learn much better than if we focused on "toughening" them up by literally biting back. Empathic parenting outperforms the punitive every time in our lesson plan. 

Careful to Not Be Careless

My dad used to call it "being all stoved up", meaning he felt stiff and sore. He'd stand after sitting for a while and moved stiffly around until his body complied with where he wanted to go. That was usually after working in out in the yard or in the garage or whatever the physical activity was, including walking the dogs and/or walking with my mom. He didn't really exercise otherwise, but after the stroke he had right after he retired from the police department in 1994, he did the best he could to take care of himself and stay active until he passed in 2012. 

I'm thinking of him because his birthday is right around the corner. He'd be 93 if he was still alive. Mercy me. I'm also thinking of him because I've got a big birthday coming up later this year and it includes the numbers 6 and 0. Mercy me, again.

My wife Amy and I are gratefully healthy and exercise regularly, and yet are both north of 50 years old. Amy, who's almost six years younger than me, is much more flexible than I am, but gets just as "stoved up" after sitting down to work for any length of time. Since we both work from home, we'll both be sitting and working away after our morning workouts, and then when my watch reminds me that it's time to stand, I can feel and hear my bones creak and pop as I do so. Same with Amy. We'll both moan and laugh, but we feel it all. 

Which is why we're careful not to overdo it when working out and careful not to trip and fall when walking or hiking. Our two teens don't play sports anymore, but they are both active. Our oldest Beatrice uses our home gym a few times a week and our youngest Bryce, well, doesn't -- but sometimes walks the dog with us at the end of the day. They'll be starting high school this year and both will be in theater and choir, so there will be some physical activity within those activities.

Our teens are still young and spry, as they should be. Amy and I are not. Healthy, though, and grateful to be so, both of us with positive and balanced body images. Balanced as in "a little fit / a little fat". In fact, Amy saw a t-shirt with that on it, and we promised we'd get one for each of us. Stay tuned for that.

Now that I'm almost 60, I want to ensure that I'll always be active and able to do the beach workouts that I do each week, or to just be able to take walks with Amy along the water or in the redwoods when I'm 90+ (and she's 84+). And to stay healthy and active for our kids and grandkids someday. Of course, you never know what could happen in life, when you're going to go, or what you might break, even just working around the house, which is why we're careful to not to be careless no matter what we're doing. 

Blessings to the old-ish folks. Stay as healthy as you can, kids. 

A Fussy Grateful Hybrid

"Goodness, this car is fussier than anyone in our family," Amy said.

"You mean fussier than Dad?" I said.

Amy laughed. "I didn't say that."

"But it's true," I said. 

Amy laughed again. 

"At least it'll keep us safe with all the warning pings, beeps, and buzzes," I said.

"Sure, but we've got to be able to turn them down," Amy said, fiddling with the new touchscreen dashboard.

Is she talking about the new car or me? I thought.

We hadn't had a new car for nine years. Didn't think we needed a new car after nine years. But our last car of nine years was having transmission issues after hitting over 100K miles. Transmission issues that two dealer trips and three AAMCO trips later gleaned no answers for us. 

It was a 2017 Santa Fe Hyundai. We loved that car. Took our whole family a lot of miles safely for most of those nine years and had really low maintenance overall. At least until the transmission started acting up. For a few years we towed a trailer camper, and while our Santa Fe was technically able to tow the trailer, it probably put excessive strain on the transmission. 

So, it was time to get a new car. After a couple of test drives, we really liked the new Hyundai IONIQ 5 electronic vehicle (EV). The EV hi-tech world we're just now experiencing is a story for another time, and in the meantime, we love it. But it pings, beeps, and buzzes a lot of warnings, all the time.

Watch out for the things in front of you!

Watch out for the things to the sides of you!

Watch out for the things behind you!

Don't forget the passengers in the back seats!

Don't forget the passengers in the front seats!

Don't forget to live your life to the fullest and be grateful for every moment!

Okay, that last one isn't a real car warning, but it is how we roll as the kids say. Not sure the kids say that anymore, though. Our kids don't, but I certainly do.

Amy's fussy new car joke fits me perfectly, however. I'm the "no" dad. The dad who fills up quickly with fussy angst and says:

No, we're not doing that. 

No, I'm not doing that.

No, we aren't going there.

And then more pings, beeps, and buzzes like the new car:

Watch out for the things in front of you!

Watch out for the things to the sides of you!

Watch out for the things behind you!

"Dad's getting fussy again," I can hear my kids say as I write this.

Maybe I am fussier than our new EV. Dang. Well, at least I'm a fussy grateful hybrid. A used one with a lot of miles, but always grateful for every moment. 

Financial Literacy Is Required Reading

I remember riding my bike to work at 5:40 in the morning for my new summer job. I got hired at 15 and a half to work in the produce department of a local grocery store. It was close to where we lived so the bike ride wasn't too bad. Plus, early summertime mornings growing up in Visalia, California, were quite warm, but still the coolest part of the day. I worked a split shift -- I'd work from 6:00 to 10:00 AM and then come back and work from 3:00 to 7:00 PM. Each week that summer I worked 35+ hours, ultimately saving enough for my first car. I worked part-time during school and then again nearly full-time the following summer. 

This is the second summer that our oldest Beatrice has worked nearly full-time as a camp counselor at a summer day camp. Like I did way back then, she rides a bike to work early, around 7:10 each morning, although one big difference is that she rides an electric bike. The electric bike I bought a few years ago that I thought I'd use a lot more but ultimately did not. At least Beatrice is ensuring we're getting our money's worth. She doesn't work a split shift like I did, working straight through to 3:00 PM.

Beatrice is "making bank" as the saying goes and she's saving money, not spending it all. She even has a savings CD for goodness' sake. Her mom Amy and I never did that growing up. We spent it all! Yes, I saved and bought my first car, but that was about it back then. 

Beatrice isn't buying a car anytime soon, but she is going for her driver's permit later this year. When that happens, that'll open a whole new world of car insurance calculus for us. Our insurance will go up at least 30% once she starts driving. Thankfully she's not in a rush to drive, and neither are we, at least until she starts college.

Since Beatrice has been working and making bank, Bryce wants some of that action now, too. But they're only turning 15 this year, and there aren't many jobs they can legally work at that age. The Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk offers jobs for 14+ years old, but neither Beatrice nor Bryce have been interested in that. Bryce loves going thrifting with Amy, so that's of interested once they hit 15 and a half, to work at a thrift store. 

The adulting is here. Financial literacy and fiscal responsibility are practices we've worked to instill in both Beatrice and her sibling Bryce. It started when the bank of Mom and Dad set up payment plans for iPads they purchased, taking part of their allowance each week until the devices were paid off. Allowances that they have actual chores to do to earn. And they do them. Not without parental reminders and cajoling at times, but they get them all done. We also occasionally negotiate the current set of chores for each, which we don't have a problem doing, as long as the sets don't decrease in activities. 

Both kids have mutual fund accounts we started for them, and again, Beatrice has a savings CD. Having their own money to spend is exciting and freeing, especially for Bryce, which is why we're emphasizing savings more emphatically. Something that Mom and Dad didn't do very well at that age. We also don't want them to spend more than they have and get overextended on credit (something that I screwed up in adulting). And now that the world of work is being transformed by continuous economic upheaval, artificial intelligence, and more, financial literacy is required reading in our house. 

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.