The Full Oliver Friendships

"Bryce, you didn't ask me if get to see all my boyfriends this week," I said with a smirk. 

Our youngest child, Bryce, processed that statement and then smiled. 

"Dad, do you get to see all your boyfriends this week?"

"Yes, Bryce. Yes I do."

That's become a running joke with our family, especially with our kids, Beatrice and Bryce. The fact that I've had close male friends for 40+ years. Three from junior high to high school, one from post high school, and one from college. Sadly, my best friend from junior high passed away in 2025. 

I consider it a term of endearment because I've always loved these men. They've been the dearest of friends even though we only see each other a few times a year. We've traversed the chasm of decades together, through darkness and light, continuously building bridges of friendship, love, and empathy, and a whole lotta laughter along the way. 

There's a current societal narrative that says men are lonelier than ever. That they feel left out of bridge-building when compared to women. The percentage of men with six or more close friends dropped from 55% in 1990 to just 27% in 2021. Men account for nearly 80% of all suicide deaths and are over three times more likely to die by suicide than women.

The resurgence of toxic masculinity is an unfortunate direct response to feeling left out of the life equation. For the first time, there are more women employed than men, and there's a misinformed visceral backlash to this, movements like #MeToo, and more.

I'm grateful that there's hope in male friendships like ours. Men can have strong, positive connections and loving male friendships. Friendships that mentor and support each other. Those friendships reciprocally can and do make other relationships stronger, like those with our significant others and our children and grandchildren. 

So, Bryce and Beatrice, this was a good week with my boyfriends. First, my best friend from college, Troy, traveled with his oldest son and me to Los Angeles to see our favorite band Rush on their new aptly titled "50 Something Tour". A band we've seen many times together over the years, and one we never thought we'd see play live again after the beloved drummer, Neil Peart, passed away in January of 2020. (And speaking of friendships, the members of Rush were also friends for decades, and the two remaining members, Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee, have been best friends since junior high. We can gratefully relate.) 

Second, my dear friend from high school, Greg, invited us to his and his wife's 60th birthday party. My other two mutual friends, Rob and Craig (and Craig's wife), attended as well. We always know how to "bust each other's chops", laugh until we cry, and unabashedly hug each other tight.

After we returned home from Rush, my friend Troy texted me: The whole trip was a full Oliver. That's our new Rush "inside baseball" term for "it was everything". The same was true for Greg's birthday party and everything we've done together for decades. Our friendships are the "Full Oliver", forever building transcendent bridges.

More Full Oliver:

All the Friendship in Between, with Love

A Spirit Breaking Free

Because There's Always A Promise

A Longing for Loving Connection

What Happens Next

Superman's Love Letter

Men of An Influencer Age

Making a Dent

A Long-Term Well-Being Win

Men of a Stand-up Age

Men of a Vulnerable Age

Able-Bodied Grateful

Men of Our Present Age

The #MeToo Guys

Men of a Women's Age

Men of a Consequential Age

Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future

Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work

Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984

Men of An Unremarkable Age

Being What Happens Next

Retro K: A treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged

The Rainbow Parade

"You guys look like corporate Pride," our youngest Bryce said with a half-smile.

We all laughed. My wife Amy and I proudly wore our rainbow colors as straight allies.

"Corporate Pride?" I said with my own half-smile. And then I thought, That's quite the oxymoron today since DEI and inclusivity have been on the corporate rocks. Thankfully that's not true for all companies -- thank you Disney and many others. 

Still, it was funny coming from Bryce, who is proudly queer, has a quick sardonic wit, and loves to tease their parents (both our kids do). We were all at our local Pride parade in downtown Santa Cruz with thousands of others from our community. It was a wonderful celebration of joy and love. The first same-sex couple to be officially married in Santa Cruz County in June 2008 were the grand marshals, alongside California Assemblymember Gail Pellerin, who officiated their wedding.

Pride celebrations are annual global events honoring the culture, history, and resilience of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQIA+) community. It's primarily celebrated in June to commemorate the 1969 Stonewall Riots in New York City. During a routine police raid at the Stonewall Inn, patrons and local residents fought back against harassment, sparking days of protests that galvanized the modern gay liberation movement. Thank goodness you can still find this information on the Library of Congress website. 

When our kids were younger, we called it "The Rainbow Parade". Not because we didn't want to talk about the LGBTQIA+ community, but because it was such a sweet way to explain why "love is love" no matter who you are or how you identify, and why tolerance, acceptance, and inclusivity make for healthy and vibrant communities. 

Love is love. When Bryce told us they identify as they/them and were queer, we were grateful they felt safe enough to tell us. There was no shame or judgement; we've always wanted our children to be who they are. The same teen coming-of-age parenting happens whether straight or gay, and we engage in both with our kids. Bryce and I were on a local radio show back in January talking about these very things, from their perspective as a young person and from my perspective as their parent. 

"Beatrice, please take a picture of me and Mom," I said to our oldest. 

Beatrice took our picture and then both kids took off with their friends. Amy and I watched the parade and cheered for every organization that passed. Thousands of smiles surrounded us as "The Rainbow Parade" filled us with hope and love for this country and the world. 

Love is love. Straight Corporate Pride allies and all. 

Safe and Sound

Bryce's dot on the map app hadn't moved for 23 minutes. 

That usually wouldn't have worried us, knowing exactly where they were, but they weren't responding to our texts, which they usually did.

The day neared dusk and Bryce wasn't responding. They said they wanted to go take pictures in the "canyon" as we call it: a trail that cuts through the mountainside near where we live. They had a new vintage film camera purchased at a garage sale and wanted to put it to the nature test. 

The "canyon" is a weekly hike that Amy and I take and is only a few minutes from our house. There are homes that run along either side of the mountain about 100 feet above the trail. It starts off as a dirt trail that quickly turns into a paved trail weaving its way up the small canyon to a city park. It's lined with eucalyptus trees, wild blackberry brambles, and overgrown brush along the way. There's also a tree swing at the bottom of the canyon we constructed after the last one was cut down. Both our kids (and us) used to swing away on it when they were younger. On our hikes we've seen other hikers, runners, dog walkers, and sometimes deer, rabbits, squirrels, and coyotes. 

The coyotes have never been an issue, but we've never hiked at dusk or at night. It can also feel a little creepy sometimes in the canyon, where in the past there have been homeless camps hidden in the brush and trees, and who knows what else. 

"Stranger danger" is extremely rare, accounting for less than 1% of all reported missing children cases in the US. The vast majority of missing children and teens are runaways, or those taken by family members in custody disputes, or taken and/or hurt by other people they know (intimate partner violence). We live in a relatively safe and supportive community, but for those like Bryce who identify as LGBTQ+, they can be and are targeted with harassment, bullying, and worse. 

Bryce still didn't answer our texts. We called multiple times. No answer. Their dot on the map didn't move.

"Should we go look for them?" I asked my wife Amy. 

"Yes, I'll drive around," she said. "You walk up there."

Both our kids are teenagers, Bryce and their sibling Beatrice, and have been immersed in Kidpower safety skills since they were children. They understand to always be calm, confident, and award of their surroundings, to always move away from danger, and to defend themselves and fight back only if there is no other recourse. 

I took our dog Jenny and headed to the canyon. Still no response from Bryce. Amy drove around the neighborhood, parked near the canyon trail, and walked in ahead of me. Nightfall was coming fast. Walking along the trail at dusk creeped me out. Jenny was all too happy to go for another walk, oblivious to her owners' trepidation. 

Amy was maybe five minutes ahead of me on the trail. I checked in twice, but both times she hadn't found Bryce yet. It's a horrible feeling thinking that something happened to your child. Your heart rate speeds up. Your gut cramps. Disturbing images you don't want to imagine swarm your sanity and you move faster towards where you'd hoped they'd be -- to that static dot on the map app. I pulled Jenny along by her leash and she reluctantly sped up unable to stop at prime sniffing spots.

Amy called me, relieved. "They're fine. They're up here at the first small pond taking pictures and trying to catch frogs."

"Good God," I said. "Frogs? At least they're safe."

Amy and Bryce walked back to me and Jenny and then to the car, and I drove us all home in the early darkness. Bryce apologized that they didn't check their phone, but we still reiterated our safety rules and the fact that they should've checked in when it started getting dark. 

We're light years from the days when Amy and I grew up staying out until dusk. No cell phones. No GPS. No way to check in. Just showing up on our doorsteps before it was completely dark. 

We trust our kids to follow our safety rules, most of the time, and they're grateful we have them, most of the time. Your heart rate returns to normal. Your gut relaxes. And the disturbing images are banished by the sanity of being safe and sound. 

Let's take it from the top

The first and only time we watched the musical Hamilton was when it streamed through the Disney+ app on Apple TV in July of 2020. That was during the heart of the pandemic summer. The only one in our family at the time who liked watching it was me. Hamilton was created by Lin-Manuel Miranda and it blends hip-hop, jazz, R&B, and traditional show tunes to tell the story of America's first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton. 

It was fascinating to watch and the music catchy, but it was difficult to understand at times when the fast-paced music and scenes blurred by across the screen. Thank goodness for closed captioning. Now, both our kids love the music from Hamilton, especially our youngest Bryce, literally singing the lyrics for every song (and Hamilton was all songs).

My wife Amy and I haven't been the big musical fans throughout our lives, though, at least not until our kids became interested in the theater, so that's changing now. Otherwise, the movie Grease with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John was always our only go-to musical. Because John and Olivia. C'mon. But we did take the kids to see a Broadway production of Wicked a few years ago in New York and that blew us all away.

Pre-pandemic both our 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 private theater program after that, and then Beatrice got involved in the student-run high school theater. Bryce joined the high school theater as well their freshman year. There is a teacher-advisor for theater who helps guide each production, but it's still mostly student run. 

The high school productions that both our kids have been in to date were fantastic. Such talented kids (including our own!). The last musical they were in was Little Shop of Horrors, which was something neither of us had ever seen. Not even the 1986 movie with Rick Moranis, Steve Martin, and many others. I've known what it was about since the movie came out back then, but it wasn't until we saw it in its entirety that we realized what we'd been missing. The doo-wap 1950's music kept our feet tapping and dark comedy kept us laughing. 

We did end up watching the movie the day after we saw the high school production, and while it had its moments (Bill Murray's character was hilarious), we preferred watching the kids sing, dance, and act. Beatrice even got to be one of three puppeteers, working the smaller plant puppet during the "Grow for Me" song. 

Bryce has three years of high school theater left and Beatrice has one year left. Both kids have had minor roles and been in all the ensemble scenes, and the more confident they get, the more they'd love a bigger part. They'll keep working at their craft and keep auditioning.

After every high school production, there's a tradition where the kids give a "theater robe" to a student who they feel went above and beyond during the show. The robe has memorabilia from past productions sewn onto it, and the student they pick then sews something onto the robe from the last production they did. After Little Shop of Horrors, the kids gave Beatrice the robe. 

Not only that, Beatrice is also on the theater committee for her senior year and gets to help decide the next play and musical. And the murder mystery play she recommended was picked for the fall! And she's going to be the director, too! We're so proud!

Both our kids have found their people in theater (and choir), as the saying goes, and we're so grateful. And next semester, Beatrice gets to call out, "Let's take it from the top".

We can't wait!

All of You

It was a trick question not in the form of a question. I knew I couldn't answer "all of you" because our youngest Bryce would scold me like they always do. 

"You can't say all of us, Dad," Bryce would say to me. "You have to pick one."

What led to the trick question not a question was playing a fun game friends of ours had shared a few years ago. Fun in its simplicity. Fun because it tested how well we knew each other. I don't remember exactly what the game's called, but it goes something like this.

One person starts and picks a number from 1 to 10 in their head and doesn't share it with the others. Then, the other players -- in this case me, my wife Amy, our oldest Beatrice, and Bryce -- proceed to offer categories like food, clothes, music, and more. The person with the number in their head gives an answer for every category asked of them (question not a question). Lastly, the other players try to guess the number.

Again, fun in its simplicity. Which was great, because Bryce wanted to play when we were out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants on the wharf. At first our kids didn't want to go with us; the plan was to go out to dinner and then watch the drone show at the Beach Boardwalk. But then they changed their minds. We were glad, although we told them no "whining after dining" since we'd be sitting on the beach to watch the show. 

"Dad's getting fussy," Beatrice said. 

"Dad always gets fussy," Bryce said.

"I just don't want you both whining after dinner wanting to go home," I said.

"So fussy."

Yep, Dad always gets fussy. With our teens, it's become regular comedic banter about Dad's fussies. It's fire, dude.

At dinner we played the "number" game, or the "favorites or not" game. Whatever the name, the game brought joy to all of us as we sat and waited for our dinner. During the last round when it was my turn to pick a number (in my head), I picked "10", which meant my favorites.

The categories were then presented to me one by one. Amy's was "favorite family member". 

Both kids sighed aloud. "You know who he's going to pick."

All of you, I thought. I imagined the kids' response, You can't say all of us, Dad.

"Mom," I said.

"See, we knew it!"

I smiled and gave Amy a kiss. 

"Ew, stop!"

"I thought he'd say Jenny," Beatrice said. (That's our dog and another long-time family joke that Jenny's my favorite.)

After dinner, which we all agreed wasn't as tasty as it had been previously, the sun was setting and it was cold and windy. Bryce decided they were too cold and wanted to wait in the car for us. Beatrice, Amy, and I walked from the wharf where we were parked, to the main beach in front of the Boardwalk. Ten minutes later the drone show started. Ten minutes later the drone show ended. I took a few pictures, one of which came out artsy due to the night exposure and the drone light trailing off. I showed Amy and she agreed.

"That was it?" Beatrice said.

"I guess so," I said. "It was still fun, don't you think, Mom?"

"Yes," Amy said. "It was short but cool."

I don't think Beatrice was convinced. We packed our chairs and blankets away and made the trek back to our car. That's when we saw the line of cars exiting the wharf was long and slow. Thirty minutes later we finally exited the wharf and headed home. 

It didn't matter that the food at one of favorite places wasn't that flavorful this time. It didn't matter that Bryce wanted to wait in the car. It didn't matter that it was cold and windy. It didn't matter that the drone show was shorter than what we expected. 

All that mattered was that my favorite family members were with me and we enjoyed each other's company. Because the answer to who's my favorite will always be "all of you".

To Take Their Mother's Lead

One of the best things we've done for our kids, besides the positive discipline parenting, the Kidpower parenting, the empathic parenting, is to let them be and become.

Meaning, to let them become who they already were, are, and will be. 

Of course, we've had our own thoughts on what we've wanted them to become, but never at the expense of their own decision making. Their own mistakes. Their own regrets. They own successes. 

A teen's prefrontal cortex is still in its infancy, and it has until later in the 20's to fully develop. This means that teens often rely on the amygdala, which is the emotional center, and that leads to heightened emotions, risk-taking, and impulsive behavior.

But that doesn't mean they can't learn the coping mechanisms they'll need to deal with the adulting stressors of life that have only just begun. Because it begins in childhood today, no matter how loving and supportive you are as parents.

Kids can be more resilient than most parents think they can. We struggled and stressed about our own kids' struggles and stresses about their own social anxieties and mental health. At some point, both have had their own breakthroughs; they've adapted, overcome, and are thriving. These are great personal leadership skills to develop and practice whatever those "anxieties" are. That includes us the parents getting them whatever supports and resources they may need at the time they need. 

Kids can also know more about who they are and how they identify than most parents want to believe. That makes it hard for adults who have specific beliefs and ideologies about who their children are and who they should be. Sexual orientation and gender identity, for example. Our youngest was clear when they told us they were queer and identified as they/them. We've been nothing but supportive parents, and staunch allies, ever since. They were even nominated for a youth leadership award this year for the march they organized last year. 

Before we wanted to have children, it was my wife Amy who opened me up to endless possibilities with our lives. To always look at life through eyes of love without judgement or shame. To learn and adapt as best I could. That was hard at first, but I got there. 

When we changed our minds about children, then we were all in on being the best parents we could be. That they would learn to embrace and manifest endless possibilities that we believe in. That we would guide them and teach them as best we could. Again, they have to develop their own decision making. Make their own mistakes. Own their own successes. And hopefully learn to limit regrets. 

That's a constant work in progress, and no matter what, one of the best things we've done for our kids is to let them be and become. 

One of the best things I've done for myself and our kids is to take their mother's lead. For that, we are all grateful. 

Happy Mother's Day.

Curbing the Bluto-Bloat

Beatrice said I sounded like Popeye. The Sailor Man. The old cartoon from the 1930's that I watched in syndication growing up in the 1970's. Popeye the pipe-smoking protagonist who loved his sweetheart Olive Oyl and protected her against his nemesis Bluto, the bully who was constantly trying to take her away. Popeye was always the underdog until he ate his supercharged superhero food: a can of spinach. 

Yes, kids. Eat your spinach so you can grow up to be big and strong...I didn't think either of our kids had ever watched Popeye. 

"Do you know who Popeye is, Beatrice?" I asked her. 

"He's a pirate," she said. "You sounded like a pirate."

I got so tickled I nearly spit up. I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever heard. Both our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, laughed because they realized why I laughed.

I caught my breath and said, "Nope, not a pirate. A sailor. Literally, 'Popeye the Sailor Man'. Toot-toot. That was the theme of the old cartoon." I say it for them. 

"They both sailed the seas, Dad," Bryce said.

I snorted laughter. "True, but Popeye was a sailor, not a pirate. Now, do you know what made Popeye big a strong?"

I waited. It was now clear they didn't really know the Popeye cartoon, but I wouldn't stop this comedy train.

"Fish?" Beatrice said.

"And beans," Bryce added.

Another round of laughter between the three of us.

"What? Sailors eat fish," Beatrice said.

"And wouldn't you have cans of beans on a boat?" Bryce said.

I couldn't stop laughing. It was just so funny to me. So sweet and honest. 

"Oh my, kids. That's so funny. No, Popeye would eat a can of spinach, get big and strong, handle the bad guy, Bluto, and save the girl, Olive Oyl."

"Spinach?" Beatrice said.

"Are you mansplaining Popeye, Dad?" Bryce said.

More laughter. The whole thing just kept cracking us up. I love these kids! It's since become an ongoing joke for us, what Popeye eats to get super-powered strong and fight the bully Bluto, instead of spinach. For example, I'll ask what everyone wants for dinner, and I'll hear the kids call out:

"Fish and beans!"

Goodness, we need more of this levity today. In a world filled with bullies and worse, sometimes I don't think there's enough supercharged spinach, fish, or beans in the world to curb the Bluto-bloat. 

But our kids give us hope that there is. And laughter, too. Toot-toot. 

Celebrate the Safety of Everyone

Medieval Times reminded me of how we still like to be entertained by strong men and physical games. This was staged fighting, being a dinner show and faux tournament, and no one was purposely maimed or killed. But there was no mistaking physicality of the fighting and I'm sure the actors were exhausted after the show. 

After our high school choirs participated in a music festival, we went to Medieval Times for the dinner show. The huge auditorium was divided into sections supporting specific color-coded knights. In addition to our two high schools, dozens of other high schools from multiple states added to the raucous cheering for their knights. 

I know. It was only a show. Nobody died. The fighting was fake. We were very much entertained and the food was better than I thought it would be; we had to eat with our hands. Good times.

We always want to be entertained. Don't we? Today's professional sports feature both men and women battling it out with rabid fans cheering them on. The same with high school and college sports. I've loved sports in my life. Not so much now, but I still like to watch football now and again. 

We celebrate champions and shame the losers. And because we like winning so much (I use the collective "we" loosely here knowing it's not everyone), we forgive the transgressors of their greater sins. Time and again it's the men who fall into this category considering thousands of years of patriarchy and misogyny. 

Men in sports who harass, assault, rape, and perpetrate domestic violence on other women, usually girlfriends and spouses. Otherwise known as intimate partner violence. There have been many high-profile cases in the past two decades, and probably more so since the reporting of domestic violence, assault, and rape may be higher than it's ever been. And many of these athletes had little to no punishment and continued to play sports and receive paychecks for those who played professionally.

We want to be entertained regardless of who gets hurt. We want to win regardless. 

Even with reporting supposedly up, it's impossible to exactly know how many men in sports have committed harassment, assault, and/or rape across professional, collegiate, and youth levels across the globe since 2000.

However, data indicates the number is in the thousands, with reports showing that 96% of perpetrators in these cases were male.

It's not just athletes. Men across the socioeconomic spectrum continue to be entrenched in our ongoing culture of patriarchy and misogyny. According to Jackson Katz, Ph.D., "They’re all men who were socialized into a misogynous culture that dehumanizes women, turns them into sexual commodities and licenses men to mistreat them." He was specifically talking about the men in the Epstein files and the men who raped Gisèle Pelicot in France, but this applies to all men from every facet of life. 

Jackson Katz, Ph.D., is the co-founder of the Young Men Research Initiative and a prolific writer about violence against women. I've started his new book titled Every Man: Why Violence Against Women is a Men’s Issue, I've read and watched a lot of his work and can't wait to read his book. 

Only 2%-10% of reported harassment, assault, and rape turn out to be false. But again, that's based on the victims who actually come forward and report the crimes. And too many of us still blame the victims in the end. 

We celebrate the men and we shame the victims. Again, the collective "we" meaning society in general, but not everyone specifically. There are those of us who want to change the misogynous assault and rape culture that's so embedded in our lives from birth. Mr. Katz has also said, "If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to raise a rapist."

We can break the latter without sacrificing the former. And it all starts at the beginning. Only then can we celebrate the safety of everyone. 

Because it's all "fire", dude

I told our kids I really was in men's glee in junior high, and then in choir in high school. They wanted proof. High school was easy because, there I was, styling a tux in the yearbook pictures from freshmen through junior years. 

But when I looked in my junior high yearbook, I wasn't in the group picture. Why I don't remember. Maybe I was at a math competition that day. Something else that would've conflicted with the taking of the group picture. Not only I wasn't in the picture, my name wasn't listed either. That was an unfortunate oversight somewhere along the line. Mr. Hannah, our junior high choir teacher, surely would've included my name in the listing.

"Dad, you weren't in men's glee; you're not in the picture," our youngest Bryce.

"Yes, I was," I protested. Why wasn't I in there? I thought.

"You're not in there, Dad," our oldest Beatrice said. 

"C'mon, Dad," my wife Amy said.

"I thought you were an athlete, a brain, and in student government," Bryce said. "You were a nerd, Dad. Except when you were in detention. That was cool."

That's a story our kids love: the fact that when I was student body president, I received lunch detention for too many first period tardies. One of the other kids in detention has said to me, "Dude, aren't you the president?"

Yes. Yes, I was. The kids always laugh at that. 

I continued to defend myself about being in men's glee. Then I had an idea -- I had a cassette recording from men's glee in junior high that Mr. Hannah had recorded and made for all of us and our families. 

"I have proof," I said. "Listen to this."

I pushed play on the only working cassette player we have. Young teenage boys' voices sang an old standard like Erie Canal. 

I stopped the tape. "See?" I said. "I was in men's glee."

The kids laughed. "How do we know you were one of them?"

Sigh. They weren't wrong. I really was in men's glee. No, really. 

Today both our teens are in high school choir and love it -- and we love watching them sing! Bryce has been in choir since middle school and this is Beatrice's first year. Since last fall, they've been excited about their spring trip to a music festival in Anaheim, CA. And so have we. 

Because Disneyland. 

Don't get me wrong -- we really enjoy hearing all the kids sing. They are amazing. But c'mon, it's Disneyland. We've been taking our kids to Disneyland since they were three and five years old. So, we volunteered to be chaperones. Over 50 kids in total and 8 chaperones between two high schools. 

It was wonderful listening to all the high school choirs sing throughout the festival day, especially our two high schools (and especially our kids' choir). There were over 30 choirs from multiple states that participated. Brilliant song choices and inspired singing. These music directors are doing amazing things with these kids who sounded more like professional adult singers than teens. 

As a parent, it's been quite the bumpy joy ride living it all over again through our teens' experiences -- and all the kids on the choir festival trip. Their boisterous energy, anxieties, friendships, camaraderie, teasing, occasional indiscriminate F-bombs, and Gen Z slang flooded the bus on our way to the Anaheim music festival. Our high school choirs performed admirably and won all gold awards. 

Amy and I and all the chaperones powered through with the kids, eating dinner with our hands at Medieval Times, cheering for all the choirs at the awards ceremony (with Mickey, Minnie, Merlin, and friends), finishing off the 10+ mile hike throughout Disney until it closed, and staying up until midnight each night doing room checks. We were all exhausted but elated on the bus ride home. 

"Are you 'locked in', Dad?" Bryce said to me when we left, leveraging some Gen Z slang.

"It's 'fire', dude," I answered. It means something is really good, impressive, or exciting. That always makes our kids smile. 

Because it's all "fire", dude. And that always makes us smile. 

Our Family Bonding Present

I could see her there. Studying. Socializing. Working. It wasn't literally about the specific colleges we visited during spring break, just the fact that in less than two years she'd be going to college. Maybe it'll be a four-year college, or it will be two years of local junior college first. That's a decision yet to be made, although she's very interested in going away.

Exciting and bittersweet all at the same time. Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school and wants to be a teacher someday, elementary and/or middle school, so she's eyeing a credential program along with the four-year degree, maybe even an MA in education. We're looking at the California CSU and UC systems since we live here.

Visiting campuses brought back a lot of memories for both my wife Amy and me. Neither of us had a traditional four-year college experience. Amy went to a junior college for one year and then transferred to the University of North Carolina Wilmington. I started at my local community college, dropped out, then went to San Jose State University a year later. After a rocky first two and half years, I took a break, was already working full time, and then returned to finish with honors while working full time taking a full load of classes. Neither of us work directly in the fields our degrees represent, which is common for many college grads. We're grateful we still have them.

Both of us still have friends from those days. One of my best friends from college, Troy, has been my Rush (the band) touring buddy for decades. We're super excited to see Rush again this summer together. We were in the TKE fraternity together at SJSU and have many fun and fond memories from our college days, and the years since. We even ran into his ex and two of his kids on one of the college tours! Also, during our college trip we stopped at a deli called Grossman's (my last name but no relation as far as I knew) and the manager noticed my Rush t-shirt and said his head chef played drums in a Rush cover band. Synchronicity indeed. 

That's something both Amy and I are grateful for from our college experiences besides the education and our respective degrees. The fact that we found lifelong friendships. As we toured the college campuses with Beatrice, I pictured her walking to the student union with her friends, to class, to the dorms, to all the college haunts I remember from my time. 

Of course, college isn't for everyone and not the only options for future careers, and the world of work is changing in exciting and scary ways (AI is one of those ways and our kids aren't happy about it). But the careers that both our kids want to pursue -- teaching for Beatrice and marine science for Bryce -- will involve college and eventually embracing AI tools and systems.

Although those are life experiences yet to come, I can still see her there. This trip provided us with a glimpse of Bea's college future while staying grounded in our family bonding present. And that's always the greatest gift of all. 

We All Have A Problem

"You both have a problem."

We sat in our living room listening to our youngest Bryce explain to my wife Amy and I that we spend too much time on social media. Not only that, they told me I joke too much about artificial intelligence (AI) and use it too much as well. And the fact that AI is destroying the future for them, their sibling Beatrice, and all their friends. AI is altering education, the job market, and the energy required to power AI is destroying the environment. Both our kids are worried about it all.

And they're not wrong. But first, social media. Amy and I aren't on social media as much as we used to be and my weekly iPhone usage totals validate that (even though Bryce says we are). True, we both scroll for entertainment, but we aren't viewing individual pages much at all anymore, and while I post these articles I write here weekly, and a fun photo or drumming video now and again, our time online is minimal. 

The irony here is that we've allowed our kids to have their own social accounts since they were 13. Since then, there's been enough research that shows how addictive and destructive social media can be for kids, teens, and yes, adults. We monitored what they view online when they were younger and check in periodically now that they're older. They're mostly on YouTube and we're not fans of some of their content, but we've approved and they've also done a good job of limiting their screen time.

If we could go back and have them wait until they were 16, 17, even 18? Maybe. That might've been a better move, but they're both managing to limit their time, get their schoolwork done, socialize with their friends (and us), and engage in activities that have nothing to do with screens. Also, any emotional and psychological struggles they've had as teens wasn't directly related to social media as far as we're concerned. 

However, for many other kids and families it has been a big problem. Both Meta and Google lost a major social media addiction lawsuit recently because of this big problem. And there's more than likely a lot more to come. Will it change the way these platforms are run? Skeptics don't think so; parents hope so. Maybe it's just easier to not let kids start in the first place and for the parents to stay off. What was always billed as a way to stay connected has done more to isolate and disconnect. Amy and I are definitely considering staying off and going back to phone calls and letter writing to stay in touch with family and friends. 

Then there are the Chromebooks our kids have been using since middle school. The pandemic led to more tech use due to distance learning (Google Classroom). Big Tech companies -- primarily Google, Microsoft, and Apple -- have invested billions of dollars in cash, free software, training, and heavily discounted hardware to secure their position in the K-12 education market, a sector where tech spending reached $30 billion in 2024 alone. 

There are software safeguards, but too many kids have figured out how to circumvent and access YouTube and lots of inappropriate content. School districts across the country and now reducing their dependence on tech and the use of it in the classroom. Our own school district is looking at all this now. Thankfully our children have limited their usage of their school laptops to schoolwork.

AI is a tougher one for me as an employed parent. I work for a software company and we do provide AI features in our platform. Plus, I use AI every day to help me with work productivity. Like many new technologies I've had access to in the workplace since before public internet, I've always been an early adopter. That also included social media in the mid to late 2000's. 

AI is different. Will be different. At first, I wanted AI to be banned in schools because of the fear of plagiarism and the impact on critical thinking (which is happening), but then we went the other way with seeing value in some AI tools for kids to study with and learn from, especially high schoolers. 

The jury's still out on this one, though. Plus, lots of folks -- economists, tech pundits, naysayers, people struggling to find work -- all have different opinions on how much displacement it will have on the future job market for our kids, and what jobs it will literally destroy and possibly create.

Like every technology disruption before mainstream AI, we've always found a way to adjust in the workplace. For example, when my wife and I first dated in the late 1990's, we traveled as much as we could. Everywhere we went, we used paper maps and road atlases. We never really thought much about it; we grew up using paper maps and that was how we navigated travel.

Then came MapQuest, a free online mapping service, and navigating the world changed forever. However, many people early on printed the maps out from MapQuest to use, including us. Then came Google Maps and GPS and navigating the world changed yet again, forever.

Paper maps are still available, but for those displaced who worked in the printed map-making world, what happened to them? Were they displaced forever? Absorbed into the online map/GPS world? Into other industries? This may seem like an inconsequential example, but every disruption is consequential. 

These are similar questions HR/TA leader Jan Tegze asked with unsettling clarity. The difference being, earlier technology disruptions took decades to transform, displace, and reabsorb those impacted. Hundreds of years in fact moving from paper maps to smart phones, GPS, and apps. What happens to all the workers when AI transforms in a fraction of the time?

If you haven't read Anthropic's Labor market impacts of AI research (makers of Claude), you should. Some of the highlights include "workers in the most exposed professions are more likely to be older, female, more educated, and higher-paid" and "there's suggestive evidence that hiring of younger workers has slowed in exposed occupations".

So again, what happens to all the workers when AI transforms and displaces in a fraction of the time? Will they be reabsorbed, or not? There's a lot of uncertainty ahead for our kids.

When Bryce told us, "You both have a problem", it turned into a much bigger conversation. It's clear that we all have a problem with where we're at today with social media, technology, AI, and our children's futures. Not to mention a changing job market, inflation, rising energy costs, climate change, limited affordable housing, geopolitical instability, authoritarianism, diminished rights, extreme polarization, bigotry -- I could go on, but I think we're all painfully aware of what's happening around the world today. And what's happening down the street. 

When our family marched in protest with millions of others this weekend, it was about all of the things above for us. Our kids just want a better world. Blessings for our freedom to fight for it and make real impactful and positive change. 

Unconditionally

The words "unconditional love" dislodged wonderful multiple memories from my brain. They fell into my heart like happy kids into an inviting pool. As each memory hit my heart's waterline, my breathing hitched and the tears came. I sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes.

"Are you crying" my wife Amy asked.

I nodded and sobbed. She took my hand.

I didn't expect this reaction, sitting at a celebration of life for the father of one of my wife's good friends. Her friend was sharing some memories about her father and then she told us all that her dad loved her and her brother unconditionally. That he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported them through good times and bad. 

And that made me remember my father and his unconditional love for me and my sister. He passed away in 2012. 

I couldn't stop the tears; he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good and bad times as well. It's not that our mom didn't do some of the same, but it was more complicated with her and us. She passed away four months after our dad, shortly after I took her home to Oregon.

I couldn't stop the tears. Amy squeezed my hand. I then thought about the day before when we were at another memorial for one of my dear friend's mother who had recently passed. She loved life and lived it to its fullest. She found and embraced as much joy as possible throughout her life and encouraged her family to do the same. 

And that's Amy to us, me and our children. I squeezed her hand.

Amy's friend finished her eulogy. My tears continued. I remember at the end of high school when I finally broke down and told my parents about my past, my current emotional state, and my crippling anxieties, anxieties that I was not equipped to talk about in any rational way prior to that moment. Prior to that moment I had become cynical about unconditional love, not believing there was such a thing. But in that moment, both parents held me and told me they loved me and that they'd help me figure it out. I'll never forget that. 

Our kids have had some of their own emotional struggles as teens, and we're grateful they've been able to share with us. Each time we listen and hold them and tell them we love them and we'll help them figure it out by empowering them to do so.

My tears kept coming as the celebration of life for Amy's dear friend's father continued. Those in attendance were given party hats because he wanted it to be a celebration. But losing someone dear brings sadness, and Amy's friend told us all, "The tears are worth it."

I wondered what my children would say about me someday after I was gone. I know that's morbid, but after reliving my own's father love as I sat there, I already knew the answer before I even asked myself the question: they would say he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good times and bad.

Unconditionally. 

The Freedom to Thrive

When I first wrote about the high school incident in Visalia last month where a small group of eight ASB students made the shirts they wore spell out “2 FAG6OTS”, there were those who warned me not to read the online comments. Not comments about my article; they were the comments on one of the original news postings about the incident. 

I didn't read them, because most of the time these days online comments are horrible and offensive, but someone did share with me that many of the comments supported the students' free speech.

Free speech to use an offensive slur toward 8th graders who were at high school orientation. Welcome to high school, kids. 

This prompted me to research more about the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which guarantees fundamental freedoms of religion, speech, press, assembly, and petition, primarily restricting government interference. 

It was adopted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights and protects against state-imposed religion and allows for free expression, though these rights are not absolute, excluding obscenity, true threats, and incitement.

The First Amendment broadly protects freedom of speech, even speech that is offensive, hateful, or deeply disturbing. The U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the government generally cannot prohibit speech just because it is hateful or offensive.

And that sucks, doesn't it? I think it does. Even with the authoritarian movement in this country, we still have the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. I can speak my mind as I do here in this forum and not be jailed for it. Not yet anyway.

But that also means we can say some pretty offensive and intimidating things to each other without fear of legal reprisal. Again, that sucks.

There are limits, however. Important exceptions include:

• Speech — including hate speech — is not protected if it falls into certain unprotected categories, such as:
• True threats (serious expressions of intent to commit violence)
• Incitement to imminent lawless action (encouraging immediate violence or illegal acts — Brandenburg v. Ohio)
• Harassment (especially in workplace or school settings under civil rights laws)
• Fighting words (direct, face-to-face insults likely to provoke immediate violence — though this doctrine is narrow and rarely applied today)
• Defamation

Something interesting to note is that the U.S. does not have a general “hate speech exception” to the First Amendment. Many other democracies (like Germany, Canada, and the UK) do restrict hate speech more broadly, but the U.S. typically does not.

But schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

Let that sink in — schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

I'm on my local school board in Santa Cruz and my district shared some important background about when the speech crosses the line. Under California Education Code 48900.4, a student may be disciplined for harassment, threats, or intimidation directed toward a student or staff member that is sufficiently severe or pervasive that it disrupts classwork, creates substantial disorder, or creates an intimidating or hostile educational environment. It’s important to clarify that a racial slur, though it may not be pervasive, is severe. 

Education Code 48900 allows schools to discipline students for bullying, which includes verbal acts, written communication, or electronic communication directed at one or more students that is severe or pervasive and that causes emotional harm, fear for personal safety, or substantial interference with a student’s participation in school. The law specifically recognizes bullying based on actual or perceived characteristics such as race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics.

It is important to note that the legal standard used in harassment and bullying cases is “severe or pervasive.” This means the conduct does not need to be repeated over time if the behavior is serious enough. In some cases, a single incident may meet the standard if it is sufficiently severe. Racial slurs directed at a student can fall into this category, particularly when the language targets a student’s identity and creates humiliation, intimidation, or a hostile learning environment.

It's true that schools cannot discipline students solely for speech that would be protected by the First Amendment if expressed off campus. But the incident referenced above happened on campus, during school hours, and during an orientation assembly for 8th graders.

Really. Harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

That's why I'm grateful of our Superintendent’s Student Advisory on Race & Equity in Santa Cruz that was formed in 2020 to elevate student voices around issues of race, equity, and school climate. The Advisory provides recommendations to ensure schools are safe, inclusive, and supportive for all students.

Our school board recently adopted updated Board Policy and approved a new resolution drafted by the Student Advisory on Race & Equity that called for eliminating the use of the N-word and all hate speech. Yes, the N-word. Today. Over 60 years after the Civil Rights Act and all the important anti-racist work since. 

Back to the Visalia Unified School District, the one I grew up in decades ago. Do you think those 8th graders the slur was directed at will feel safe at their new high school now? Based on the latest news I've read about this, the involved students have faced “disciplinary action,” according to the district, but officials said specifics of the investigation — including how many students were involved and how they were disciplined — won’t be made public. Being on my local school board, I get that. 

Whatever the disciplinary action, I hope the students who were involved reflect on what they did and understand how it created a humiliating, intimidating, and hostile learning environment for those students they targeted. Even if they grew up being taught that being LGBTQ+ is "wrong" due to religious beliefs, etc., it's not okay to harass, intimidate, or bully because they don't like it.

Same goes for me and my family — we can speak out against those who discriminate against any race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics. We don't like it, but we're not going to harass, intimidate, or bully them to change their minds. We'll do our best to educate and create a mutual understanding of what the hate speech does to the children and adults on the receiving end. 

So, yes, you're free to be hateful and offensive in this country. And when you lead with "hey, it's free speech", that you can say whatever you want whenever you want, without denouncing demeaning and destructive language directed at specific groups of people for whatever reason, then you're making the world less safe for families everywhere. 

Thank you for letting me speak my truth. Let's reinvest in the freedom to thrive, not destroy.

How We're Teaching It

"...The road unwinds towards me
What was there is gone
The road unwinds before me
And I go riding on..."

–Rush, Driven

It's our tone. Our inflection. The way we emphasize "no, don't do that" or "no, you can't stop now" or "what are you doing!?!".

And in the defense of our oldest Beatrice who's been driving with her permit now for a couple of months, with nearly 30 hours of driving total, she's not wrong. 

As parents, my wife Amy and I haven't forgotten how hard it is when you're learning to drive. Operating a 4,000+ pound machine at any miles per hour can still be rough sometimes for adults, like us who have driven one million miles (based on the current driving average of 60 minutes a day). We haven't had to commute to work for any significant distance for many years either. 

It's a lot to remember, all the rules of the road, while also trying to anticipate what all the other drivers around you may do. We don't have fully autonomous driving vehicles 100% on the road yet, which may in the future reduce accidents, but don't tell that to Waymo today if you'd seen the bizarre self-driving behavior in San Francisco and other cities.

Beatrice has been driving herself and sibling Bryce to and from school and other places, with Amy or me or both of us in the car with her. We grab her permit, slap on the "PLEASE BE PATIENCE -- STUDENT DRIVER" magnets on the car, and off we go. Unfortunately, Beatrice gets double the adult trouble when Mom and Dad engage in crosstalk driving tips. Which don't always align and adds to the inflection frustration. 

"Beatrice stop! You're really close to that parked truck."

"No, she's not, Amy. Plenty of room. Beatrice, keep going. You can't stop here."

We don't crosstalk every time thankfully (whether that's contradicting each other or literally sounding cross). But again, no matter how we say it, our tone can sometimes feel like we said, "Good God kid, what were you thinking stopping when turning right on a green light and no one else is around! Go now!" 

We really try to not to do that, but it's harder for me because I'm the gruffly direct Dad while Amy is usually the warm empathic Mom. And yet, Beatrice reminds us again and again to not crosstalk when we're together and to not be angry, judgy, or shaming with our words when we think we're helping her. 

We don't think we are, but I'm sure it might sound that way when we're stressed about driving with a student driver. We also have to remind ourselves she's a teen and is stressed learning to drive and more subject to feeling like we're disappointed when we point out something to her. If we speak up, it feels like to her we're freaking out, which freaks her out. 

And now Bryce is right behind and cannot wait to learn to drive. Sigh. 

We'll help Beatrice with her driving skills as much as we can (and eventually Bryce). The more hours she gets in pre and post driver's license the better (and hopefully safer) driver she'll be. The best way to know is to do; experience is the greatest driver of "doing" mastery. She's doing great.

For Mom and Dad, we'll keep reminding to not turn left into oncoming traffic even when the light is green, and many other important driving tips. We also need to keep reminding ourselves that it's not what we're teaching, it's how we're teaching it, whether together or one-on-one. Watch the crosstalk, kids. 

From Now Until Forever

"...(Forever) Got a feeling that forever
(Together) We are gonna stay together
(Forever) From now until forever
You're the biggest part of me
You're the life that breathes in me
You're the biggest part
Of me..."

–Ambrosia, Biggest Part of Me

The summer before I started high school, I typed the song lyrics out on a single sheet of paper for my girlfriend at the time. The song was "Biggest Part of Me" and had just been released in April of 1980 and became one of Ambrosia's biggest hits. Music had become a defining part of who I was and how I saw the world. 

I was an avid reader then (and now), and that same year I read Lucifer's Hammer, an end-of-world story set Central Valley of California near where I grew up, and that book started my love of reading about how humanity survives a natural or manmade catastrophe.

Decades later, after my wife Amy and I first met, we discovered we both loved mostly the same music, including Ambrosia's "Biggest Part of Me", and that we both loved end-of-the-world stories. Hopeful romantics who felt humanity was hopelessly doomed. 

In 1999, the night before we moved in together, Amy took me to see Ambrosia at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. And we danced to our song. Four years later we were married and we danced to our song (it's been the wedding for many folks over the decades). Every time we hear the song we dance to it and sing it to each other.

Ambrosia played locally again this weekend and we went to see the show, while . Before the show started, we met a lovely couple named Jim and Nancy while we were eating dinner across the street. Nancy's cousin was one of the keyboardists for Ambrosia, Mary, and the wife of the drummer and one of the original band founders, Burleigh Drummond. We told them it was our wedding song, and they smiled and said that was wonderful and that it's been many couple's wedding song. We smiled and said we couldn't wait for the show. I was so grateful for such synchronicity! 

The Ambrosia show was wonderful. They played their hits and some covers and songs we had never heard before. They played "our" song and we danced to it just like we always do. 

Here we are in our 29th year with two teens, a cat, and a dog. We're still hopeful romantics trying to make a positive difference. We also still love our end-of-world stories; we still feel that humanity is doomed. But not as hopelessly anymore. It's not quite cynicism -- it's pragmatic realism now laced with mindful hope. 

The doomsday fiction we've read and watched over the decades usually ended with some form mindful hope, of the people wanting to be better, rebuild, and make the best of what was left. Understandably our kids do not like this about us. They're very aware of the world they're inheriting now and want to do something more directly active to improving it. We hope they do.

Trust me, we really don't want the world to end. We want a better world for our children. We're working on a better world for our children. Our children are working on a better world for our children. But if the end of the world comes, we'll go out with a love-filled bang dancing to "Biggest Part of Me" and salvaging as much of the best of us we can along the way -- from now until forever -- amen.

Excavate With Love and Care

"...The world weighs on my shoulders
But what am I to do?
You sometimes drive me crazy
But I worry about you

I know it makes no difference
To what you're going through
But I see the tip of the iceberg
And I worry about you..."

–Rush, Distant Early Warning

Even with a lot of friends in high school and a close family, there were times when I was lonely. Extremely lonely. The kind where I didn't know how to articulate how lonely I was and periodic depression set in. It got worse toward the end of high school when I started having panic attacks and extreme anxiety, which at the time I understood nothing about. 

I tried to talk about it with friends and family, but it sounded trite to me. I had everything in the world going for me, so why did I feel this way? Why did I feel so alone? Why was I falling apart? No one treated me that way, but no one knew exactly how I felt, and when your self-perception is skewed to dark extremes, it's hard to accept help of any kind. The spiraling feeds on itself, propelling you into isolated oblivion where no one can reach you.

Fortunately, I worked through all that after high school, with help from dear friends, family, and therapy. Decades later I'm married with two teens and haven't felt severely lonely, anxious, or depressed for a long time. There are small fires here and there from time to time, but those are easily managed and put out. 

But today, according to a recent AARP study, 40% of U.S. adults now report being lonely, a significant increase from 35% in both 2010 and 2018. Besides us "old" folks, it's also a greater problem for Gen Z, Millennials, and the LGBTQ+ community. 

Also, according to the article, nearly half of lonely adults have limited social resources and wish for stronger connections, compared to about a third of adults overall. Community engagement is also declining: fewer people are attending religious services, volunteering, or joining local groups. 

While technology can help a helpful connector, too many adult dive into social media rabbit holes and stay too long. Even our own kids tease my wife and I about spending too much time on our devices, flipping through Facebook and Instagram. My usage is down 50% from a few years ago, but they still think I'm on too much. Social It's no wonder that more lonely adults are turning to artificially intelligent (AI) companionship. 

Loneliness is a strong predictor of poor health outcomes, including a higher risk of cognitive decline, depression, and stroke. It's linked to approximately 871,000 loneliness-related deaths annually, with significant health impacts. I read it's equated to the damage smoking a pack of cigarettes can do to the body. Thank goodness I'm an ex-smoker with limited anxiety these days. 

As a close family that does our best to fill our lives with daily joy, we're very open and empathic communicators, ready to listen to each other and provide counsel if and when needed. Or, just simply listen. Well, our teens aren't always the best listeners, and sometimes it's clear when all they hear come out of our mouths is, "Blah, blah, blah..." Because we are still the parents and the adults in charge. 

Both our kids have their own friend groups and close friends, but like many teens today, have struggled with loneliness sometimes since middle school. We've found that having the open communication with them, without shame or judgement, is the key to healthy family relationships and curbing isolation and loneliness. The more adulting they do, the more it translates into healthy relationships with others in their lives. Same goes for Mom and Dad. 

Also, get your whole family involved where you live. Volunteer your time. Join a church and/or a club. Play recreational sports. Take a class. Organize a march. Make new and lasting social connections. And if you see the tip of a loneliness iceberg, excavate with love and care to find the heart that's always there.

No Harmless Joke

We used the f-word all the time. We threw it at each other like teasing darts, meant to sting and leave a mark. We also knew other people who used the f-word to make others feel less than human, a filthy sub-species that wasn't worthy to bask in the same circles or sunlight as them. 

That may seem dramatic, but it was more than true, going all the way back to grade school for me and my friends. The usage became especially prevalent in junior high and high school. It continued for years after high school as well. It was about men minimizing other men, to demasculinize each other. When we used it against each other, we never thought about its origin or why it was ultimately offensive. And when it was between us, we were only joking with each other. 

It was only a harmless joke. C'mon.

The f-word I'm talking about is faggot. Including any derivative or tangential equivalent like "you're so gay".

Let's go back in time. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the morpheme comes from the French fagot, which means a small bundle of bound-together sticks to be used as kindling. 

By the mid-16th century, the word had become associated with the burning alive of heretics and was used in callous phrases such as "fry a faggot." 

By the 1800s, the term was also being used to refer derogatorily to women. The modern term may have come from these origins, but the etymology is in dispute.

The Oxford English Dictionary cites a 1914 reference in a book of criminal slang as the first modern American use of faggot as a slur for a homosexual male.

Today the term is listed in most every dictionary as derogatory or offensive.

When I read about the high school incident in Visalia where I grew up, I was disappointed and angered. It was my rival high school when I was a teenager, but that was decades ago and nothing like this happened then that I remember. 

A group of senior students, some who were part of the ASB student leadership, spelled out a homophobic slur with the t-shirts they were wearing. 

According to the news reporting, the picture of them doing this was taken during school hours, immediately following a senior class photo shoot. In the senior photo, the shirts spelled out "Class of 2026 Always Legit," before they rearranged the letters to say the derogatory word.

It seems to have been prompted by the fact that the seniors were leading an eight-grade orientation on when some ASB leaders reacted to two middle-school boys holding hands. Then later in the day, a small group of eight ASB students – male and female, made shirts to spell out “2 FAG6OTS” while seating next to each other on the bleachers.

Student leadership did this. During school hours. In front of the entire student body, teachers, and administration. 

The Visalia Unified Superintendent said, "This is unacceptable behavior and this matter is being thoroughly investigated and appropriate action will be taken."

He added, "Every student deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued on our campuses. We will continue working to ensure our schools are places where dignity, belonging, and accountability guide our actions."

I also read that one of the students' parents was quoted anonymously that "we will deal with them; they didn't mean any harm".

I ask the parents of these kids -- then why did they do it in the first place? Why did they think it was okay? The problem with privileged circular logic is that some of them probably do believe it was a harmless joke. 

When some of my friends in high school egged another friend's house, him and his parents were very hurt. My parents were very upset and disappointed in us. I was upset and disappointed in us. But some of the other fathers didn't care and chalked it up as harmless teen fun. 

Back in the day, my friends and I also rationalized it as harmless joking amongst ourselves. We thought we were pretty good guys who just teased each other relentlessly. It took many years after high school for us to understand how cruel and offensive it was using gay slurs, ethnic slurs, female slurs, etc., and we finally changed our behavior. We never spelled out a slur with our t-shirts at a school function, but that didn't make our behavior any less hurtful if others knew what we said.

Many of us went on to have families of our own. My wife and I have two daughters, both in high school now, and our youngest identifies as non-binary and is gay. Something they knew since they were in the 4th grade. Something we've accepted fully because we love our children and fully support them in being who they are and becoming happy and healthy adults. I believe that's true with most parents. 

We now live in a country whose leadership openly and unapologetically practices discrimination, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, and harassment of historically marginalized populations. Masked in the guise of equality and unity. Thankfully most of us pushing back against the offensive and dehumanizing rhetoric and actions.

So again, I ask the parents of the students who spelled out the homophobic slur at the school function, and the students themselves who did it (some of whom were ASB leaders): Why did they/you do it in the first place? Why did they/you think it was okay? What should the consequences be? What's the learning opportunity here, the empathic growth opportunity for all involved? 

It's no harmless joke, kids. Everyone deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued. Even those we don't like and disagree with. No one deserves their humanity and rights minimized based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or religion. As the parents and the adults in the room, we can and should do better for our kids. For all the kids.