Good TV To Me

How many movies have there been over the decades that pit rebellious teens against their cluelessly lame parents? 

A ton.

Sometimes the parents are loving yet misunderstood, and sometimes they're abusive and completely misguided. And sometimes there's redemption in the end for kids and adults alike.

Our family hasn't been one of those movies and we're grateful for that. 

For example, the plan was for my wife Amy to fly to Vegas and meet me for a weekend getaway. But after finding out our kids had a choir concert scheduled that same Thursday night, the pressure was on for Mom to stay and watch the concert. Our kids wanted me to attend, too, but they knew I was already going to be gone for a work conference. 

Now, we've gone to all our kids' events over the years, with me only missing a few due to work travel. But this time our oldest Beatrice was singing a brief solo in one of the songs, and both Beatrice and our youngest Bryce wanted us both there.

So, we changed the plan. I flew back from my work trip a little early to attend the choir concert with Amy, and then we flew back to Vegas the next morning for our fun weekend plans (that included going to Disneyland, which we love). Again, trusting our kids to take care of the house and our pets without worry.

Our kids were very appreciative that we went to the concert. And so were we. We didn't have to do it, but we did. Both Beatrice and Bryce already give me a bad time for traveling so much for work again, but I remind them that when I'm here, I'm here. Present and mindful about everything we do as a family. Plus, they love to get sassy with me when I get fussy with them, and the ribbing antics ensue.

Thankfully we're not cluelessly lame parents and our kids aren't rebellious teens. Well, Bryce kind of is, but we're okay with that. We're okay with all of who they are, both Beatrice and Bryce. 

And they're okay with who we are, their mom and dad. After we returned from our trip, we were talking with Bryce and they told us both of them were grateful that they've been able to communicate openly with us and that they feel we've loved them unconditionally, without shame and judgment. Both kids are also grateful that they've had a loving relationship with each other.

We're still mom and dad, and we've had our "rules of the childhood-to-teen road", but they feel like it's been loving and safe for them to be who they are, willing to listen and learn from us (just like we continue to do as adults). If we had gone the other way and forced them to carry our past adulting baggage because we can't and won't deal, while adding to their own teen angst, it would've sunk us all to rock bottom. 

That always makes for dramatic cinema and maybe why redemptive understanding becomes so much sweeter in those stories. And although we've had our own family drama over the years, we're well below the threshold of teens vs. parents mainstream movies. 

Thank goodness, and we're still good TV to me.

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. 

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.

Celebrate the Best of Us

Am I forever unredeemable?
Can I ever overcome all the wrongs I'm running from?
Can my worst be left behind
And do I deserve to find
There's a soul who could see any good in me?
Or will I only ever be
Unredeemable?

–Unredeemable, from Spirited

Spirited is one of my favorite Christmas movies today. Only two years old, it stars Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds and is an over-the-top A Christmas Carol twist of a musical comedy. I love it. Our kids like it. My wife Amy does not. At least, not all the singing and dancing parts. Actually, none of the singing and dancing parts. 

She's not a musical fan, but she kind of likes the story. That one along with many other holiday movies we watch this time of year: predictable campy comedies and melodramatic classics and heartfelt uplifters. For us anyway. The Holiday, Elf, Christmas Vacation, Just Friends, Four Christmases, Noelle, When Harry Met Sally, The Family Man (still my favorite), and It's a Wonderful Life (always a favorite). There are others as well, but these are the mainstays. And yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

However, A Christmas Carol isn't one of my favorites, whether the Charles Dickens' novel or any of the movie adaptations over the years. I get the story. I like the story. Just not a favorite.

But the theme of it -- that even the worst human is redeemable and can be inspired to find the good inside others and inspire others to do the same -- has always resonated with me. 

Too bad the worst humans today get the most media visibility and inspire too many others to do their worst as well, including our children and grandchildren. Our own children ask us all the time now why so many people celebrate and support those who embrace the worst qualities of humanity. That's always a super-tough one to answer, and it gets harder to answer as our kids get older. 

Because we're all a little unredeemable, aren't we? That's what makes us human (and why we watch all those campy holiday movies each year). No matter what religious or spiritual belief system and/or societal norms we choose to live by, or try to live by, or pretend to live by, most of us have made poor choices and done bad things we're not proud of. 

Some of those have seen the light of day and hopefully we've repented, while others are secrets buried deep inside the dark wells of our hearts. Mercy me, that seems to be the plot of nearly every contemporary dark novel and movie adaptation in recent memory. 

Our kids want to know about our poor choices and bad things we're not proud of; they want to understand who we were, those choices we've made in our lives, and why we became who we are today as they're becoming who they are tomorrow. Of course, we don't tell them everything, but we do want them to understand the why of our choices and what those repercussions were, and what they could be today or tomorrow if they made them.

When they ask, we also talk openly about the worst of humanity with our kids now that they're older, while emphasizing the best of humanity when they don't. We know we shouldn't be defined by the worst things we've done, as long as we've worked hard to be good people and do good things for ourselves and others. 

Are we ever unconditionally selfless, empathetic, and loving with others throughout our lifetimes, no matter what they've done? For most of us, no. It's more complicated and nuanced for most humans, and the worst-of-us recidivism is unfortunately up these days. But instead of wallowing in all that, something I struggled with in my youth, I only need to look at my wife and children to know that we work hard to celebrate the best of us. It's not a Dickens' novel, or a spirited modern day musical (of which Amy is thankful), but it is a story of redemption I continue to write with gratitude. 

A Long-Term Well-Being Win

My best friend Robby of 45 years always likes to tell the story of how he almost wasn't part of our long-term friend group. The one that keeps getting together year after year, decades after high school. We first met in 7th grade, and while we became best friends later on in high school, my best friend in 7th grade at the time, Brad, saved Robby from being bullied in wood shop class. Back then I was a skinny, asthmatic, shy, and fearful kid, not a hero, and was relieved and grateful with Brad's intervention. I was also grateful that Robby and I befriended each other through goofy humor and the music of Cheap Trick, Kiss, and many other rock groups at that time.

Our long-time friend-group origin story birthed sometime between our sophomore and junior years in high school. That's when, Robby jokes, he was "included" in our group of friends. It wasn't like one day he got a pass, or any of us for that matter. We had already been amalgamating into this cohort for a few years, based on mutual affection, trust, support, shared interests, communication, respect, humor, and more. 

The thing with me was, I struggled to exclude others. Even when I probably should have. Beyond Robby, my other close friends back in high school, and family, I've had many acquaintances and friends from many differing backgrounds. From college to work to other parents of kids ours go to school with. What I know now, but did quite understand then, was that there was always something to learn from others, friends or not. Sharing knowledge and experiences with one another was how I grew as a person and how it's shaped my life awareness and belief systems over the years. Still is.

The hard part was and is the adulting. My nature was always to be liked, and to exclude others was to not be liked. That can get you in trouble when you're in middle and high school, always trying to please, with it only to backfire on you when you do and say the wrong thing to people about other people. Mercy me I had some failures there.  

But as I failed, grew,  and evolved, there were some difficult adulting decisions to make -- getting a divorce and ending an old friendship from our long-time friend group, just to name a couple. I had to learn boundary-setting and how to exclude others when it came to my own happiness and well-being, sanity and safety, and unfortunately not always empathically either. Conversely, I had to learn that I wouldn't always be included with others and their activities, even when hubris shoved my empathy and understanding to the ground like a bully and said, "What the hell?"

And now our teens are learning about inclusion and exclusion with their own friend groups, and like most normal teens, they want to be liked and included. They need their own space, too, and boundary-setting is new to them and a struggle, but we listen and provide parental and our own experiential feedback. We tell them they don't always have to include, and they will be excluded, and that's okay. 

Boundary-setting and exclusion for well-being and safety is one thing, but exclusion based on fear, ignorance, prejudice, and to purposely hurt can lead only to painful isolation, loneliness, or worse, for both perpetrator and victim. That's a lesson for us all. 

But if they have enduring friendships based on mutual affection, trust, support, shared interests, communication, respect, humor, and more, then it's a long-term well-being win for sure. As I've written before, I'm grateful for the dear inclusive and loving friendships I've had over 40 years now. Blessings to them. I wish the same for our teens as adults. 

To Understand the Differences

It's not badge of honor, that's for damn sure. No child who becomes an adult looks back fondly on growing up with divisive divorce, or domestic violence, or sexual assault, or abuse, neglect, or violence of any kind. And yet, too many of us have had those traumatic experiences early in our lives (and later, too). And many of us, like my wife and I, have pledged that nothing like that would ever happen to our children. 

Growing up Generation X in the 1970's, it eventually became a social media badge of honor decades later to be proud of the fact that we never wore helmets when riding our bikes. And the fact that we stayed out past dusk without any adult supervision. And the fact that we never talked about something bad that happened to us back in those days. I didn't talk about it until I was in my early 20's. 

Again, we've pledged that nothing like that would ever happen to our children, and while we don't have control over what happens to them outside of our house, we do inside our house. So, it's hard to hear from them when they talk about some of the things some their friends go through inside their own homes. 

We empathize and talk about it with our kids, that we don't always know exactly what's happening with people, but the fact is that divorce is real, and domestic violence is real, and abuse and neglect are real, and how the ensuing stress and mental health issues are quite real.

But when more kids are willing to share the trauma they're experiencing at a much early age, or attempt to share as best they can, the new normal perception is the experienced trauma, even if it's just a subset of friends. Our kids care about their friends, but what we don't want is for them to feel bad because they haven't had the same traumatic experiences. 

In fact, while they should listen and be empathetic with friends who have experienced trauma, or are experiencing it, we encourage them to be grateful for the fact that they are not. To be grateful that they have a supportive and loving family that communicates with each other, free from judgment and shame, which in turn can help them be better friends to those who do struggle.

Even a supportive and loving family won't negate the teen angst, heartbreak, and seemingly traumatic issues our kids have struggled with, and will continue to grapple with, into adulthood. But we do want them to understand the differences we work hard to ensure they do and don't experience, and how they can help others along the way.

No Matter What We Believe

It always feels easier when our kids don't ask about horrific world events. About why some people do something awkward or horrible to others; or denounce others because they don't like a specific group, how they live, what they believe in; or push their beliefs on others because they feel they're right and everyone else is wrong. We'd rather them stick to their normal day-to-day friend drama as is. 

Thankfully our teens don't listen to or watch the news regularly like my wife Amy and I do, but they still hear about local and world events through friends, social media, school, and us. They can also experience them directly, and that's when we need to talk with them about it. 

For example, recently a group of men from Gideons International, a Christian Business and Professional Men’s Association, came to the middle school unannounced where our youngest daughter Bryce attends, and distributed Bibles to students while on the public sidewalk, which was their right. The Bibles however had a table of contents pointing to verses about abortion, sexual temptation, adultery, and many other topics, which I wasn't happy about. I remembered when I was in high school and a Christian group distributed a pamphlet denouncing the music I listened to and why it was evil. My favorite band Rush was supposed to mean "Rangers Under Satan's House." Good God, please. 

Bryce thought it was funny though and brought the Bible home. We ultimately weren't that upset and were happy about how the school responded. The school staff was respectful to the missionaries as were the middle schoolers themselves. The principal sent a note to all parents letting them know what happened and that the bible distribution was not a school sponsored event. Even better, social studies teachers made time to discuss the First Amendment, which is under attack on all fronts more and more. We also don't practice Christianity, but still had a discussion with our teens about both. 

When our teens do want to talk about something significant and/or traumatic that's happened globally or locally, we listen to them first, without judgment (which isn't easy when you're fighting with your own world-view parental demons), and then have a dialogue about it. We help them understand as much as we can the greater context as to the why of the something that happened.

We also talk all the time about verifying something we've heard about or read about with multiple "objective" credible sources if at all possible. Because if not, that's when the adulting complexity of biases and -isms of all stripes can also be dangerously impactful on our kids, directly and indirectly. We've seen enough destruction of late of what it can do to grownups and children alike. 

Talking to our teens about why people believe what they believe and do what they do is still really hard. It's hard because everyone sees what they want to see, which we have to be okay with, even in the face of sometimes unsurmountable evidence to the contrary (which we're not quite okay with), but we remind them we will always lead with love and empathy. 

The difference, we also remind them, is that when beliefs intentionally cause harm to others socially, emotionally, and/or physically, that's where we draw the line. That's when there must be accountability for that harm, no matter what we believe.

The Ride Home

As soon as they get into the car, both girls shout, "I'm going to talk about my day first!"

"No, I'm going first!"

"No, I am!"

"Dad, who gets to go first?"

Sometimes I tell them it's whoever said it first. Other times one of them will concede and let the other go first. The other day I actually had them pick a number between 1 and 10, and whoever was the closest got to go first. Haven't done that in years.

Our daughters have always felt safe and comfortable sharing their experiences with us, something we've fostered and have been quite grateful for. But now that they're both in middle school together, 6th and 8th grade, it's become a race to tell us about their "work" days. Good, bad, or indifferent. Sometimes in mind-numbing descriptive teen detail. About lunch drama with friends, that to me didn't seem all that dramatic, but to them was. Or, classroom drama about group projects where others in the group didn't do very much of the work. Or, more classroom drama about teachers who stress them out. More of these dramas from our oldest Beatrice than her younger sister Bryce, but both of their days are shared with us, drama or not.

My wife Amy takes them to school in the mornings, and unless I'm traveling for work, I pick them up most of the time after school (if they're not riding their bikes or walking, which they're doing sometimes). I love that time with our kids, just listening to them, asking further explanatory questions. That can lead to either further clarifications, or sassy retorts, depending on the context and their mood. It's only a 10-minute ride home, but for me it feels like hours listening to my children grow up. 

The fact that our teens are comfortable talking with us is so important. They tell their mother more than they tell me, but they're still comfortable sharing with me. One of the things that's made a difference is that we listen and let them talk. That doesn't take the parenting out of the equation, because there are situations that call for parental oversight and insight, and for me, judgmental interjections. I try to not to do that, but still do. And both girls call me out on that -- "Dad, I'm not done talking, so please don't interrupt."

The loving bonds of trust are there with our daughters because we listen to them without judgment (again, Mom more than Dad) and without directly trying to solve any of their problems they may have (school, friends, etc.). We help them, of course, but we also want them to learn how to figure things out, how to help themselves, work with others, and self-advocate. 

If there are issues that involve emotional, social, or physical safety, including things that we weren't aware of because they didn't want us to be aware, then there are definitely parental interventions and controls. Hiding things from us are rare, and when it happens, we deal with them immediately.

So, after arguing who tells Dad about their day first when I pick up our girls from school, they tell me about their days, and then argue who's going to tell Mom first when they get home. It's a gift of grace that they both are willing to share their days with us, every day. That's why the ride home is a highlight of my day, every day. 

Their Daily Melodies

I remember holding our daughters after they were born. And every time I held them after that, I was in awe of their breathing, and then eventually their babbling. Listening to them was like a daily mindful meditation. Their peaceful sleep with eyes shut tight and their alert awareness with eyes wide open. These tiny creatures were completely dependent on us to keep them safe and alive. I held them and loved them more than I ever could've imagined. 

Because for many years prior to that, I never imagined holding my own babies. Neither did my wife Amy. We just didn't want to have children. After we each grew up in our own unstable environments, bringing a child into the world just wasn't something we wanted to do. We just wanted to enjoy our lives together and see the world. 

I had crappy father role models, too. An abusive birth father who berated and beat my mother. An abusive first stepfather who terrorized my mother and sister and sexually assaulted me. But even when we found the father we never had in our second stepfather, the one who's name we took, the one who loved and cared for us as his own, it wasn't enough to convince me that I could do the same someday. Or, would want to do the same someday.

One of the many things my dad (second stepfather) instilled in me was listening. Just listening. Without judgment. And sometimes without even talking, because listening was more than verbal. This was especially important during our teenage years, which were the years shortly after our mom and him had gotten together and married. As teens, we didn't think anyone was listening, especially our parents, but Dad listened well. He still was dad, though, and every single time I'd lock my keys in my car as a teenager, which I did a lot, he'd shake his head and say, "Oh, son." And then curse a little and explain to me how and why I should better manage my keys.

When my mom couldn't help herself being reactive and judgmental about a situation, my dad usually could do the opposite. He would listen and was very thoughtful and measured in his response to whatever the situation was. What I didn't realize until over two decades later was how much his listening impacted me. 

Amy and I eventually changed our minds about having children and we're so grateful we did. Back then, we'd been listening to each other without really talking literally about having kids. Like my dad taught me, both verbal and non-verbal listening are key to quality committed relationships -- from spouses to children to friends to any relationship. Holding our newborns and then watching them grow and thrive as children and now to being practically teens has flown by, but we've also celebrated and lived within every moment, which slows time dramatically. 

We actually control life's tempo more than we think we do. It's like me finally learning how to play the drums. It's not just speed or complexity of the literal sequenced beats on the snare, toms, high-hat, and symbols that are important, it's also the empty spaces in between the beats, the rests that connect all the notes. Combined, these music measures are what tell the entire story. If you're listening that is. Our now practically teens may not think we're always listening to them, but we are, and listening to their daily melodies resonates with our deepest love. 

Thank you, Dad. And to grateful "listening" fathers everywhere, Happy Father's Day. 

Not How They Will Wind Up

They found me at the elementary school down the street from our house. We'd been at a senior event only weeks before high school graduation, and I had to leave. Another intense panic attack had come on quickly, and I had felt out-of-my mind stressed out -- scared, hot, sweaty, trapped, ashamed, not being able to breathe, needing to get out. Like that very second. 

And so I left. Said I had to go to the bathroom or something like that. I left and drove around and then went to the elementary school and sat on a bench. Still stressed out, scared, ashamed, full of guilt, and drenched in sweat. 

At the time I couldn't quite grasp the impact of years of perfectionism, of not wanting to disappoint family or friends, of not living up to expectations, of wanting to be the best in whatever I did and willing to lie about it if I wasn't, and of wanting to be liked no matter what. There was also the gulf of not dealing with childhood trauma I had experienced that added to my feelings of inadequacy and shame. It was like I'd wrapped myself in barbed wire and I couldn't break free without shredding myself -- and keeping others at bay. 

From junior high through high school, I armored up year after year with more and more barbed wire by not talking about any of it, of withdrawing more and more into my anxiety, which then triggered more and more frequent panic attacks. So, that day at the elementary school at the end of my senior year, I finally did my best to explain to my parents what had been happening to me, why I felt the way I did, and why I responded how I did. I couldn't articulate all the stress and shame I felt, or why, and it would be at least another 15 years before I truly began to free myself from it all and the shame of it, but I shared what I could.

According to researcher Brené Brown, shame causes people to feel trapped, powerless, and isolated,  and common shame triggers like appearance and body image, sexuality, family, motherhood, parenting, professional identity and work, mental and physical health, aging, religion, speaking out, and surviving trauma.

Trapped, powerless, and isolated. The good news was my parents listened, even if they didn't fully understand. They empathized, especially my mom, because she, like me, had experience a whole lot of screwed up shit in her own life. She was a perfectionist as well, survived trauma, and was full of a boatload of shame. 

My wife and I agreed that going into parenthood we were going to ensure a positive, loving, empathetic, and supportive environment. As we've learned with Kidpower, we want them to be socially, emotionally, and physically safe. We knew we weren't going to get it all right all the time, and we didn't, but we were committed to this journey. Are committed to this journey. 

And while there are physical and emotional changes our daughters are going through now being a tween and teen, the teen brain two-step for one, we also want them to be able to talk to us about anything. Of course there will be things they only feel comfortable talking with their mom about, but no matter what, we want them to feel like they can talk with either of us. 

Every week at our family meetings we discuss:

• Things we're grateful for and what positive things we've noticed about each other 
• Positive communication with each other and others
• Managing our emotions with each other and others
• Providing support to each other and others
• The awareness to understand and share the feelings of others (more empathy) 
• The willingness to be vulnerable with themselves and others and not armor up

The fact is, our girls will have many emotional and psychological adventures to come; the developmental tsunami has only just begun. We want to ensure they wrap themselves in actionable resiliency to mitigate perfectionism, poor self-image, shame, sadness, and anxiety. We want them to be able to talk with us about anything, which is why we're always checking in with them. To the point where we hear "why are you asking me so many questions!" again and again and again.

We'll continue to cover all this with them regularly. These days the weekly meetings do come with giggles, sighs, and eye rolls, but they do listen and participate. Thank goodness, because it took me decades to unravel those barbed-wired defenses learned so long ago. This is not how they will wind up. 

Surfing the Toxic Afterglow

We agreed that Facebook is too much a cesspool of toxic aggression. A place where it’s all too easy to say whatever the hell you want because you want to, share whatever the hell you want because you want to, fact-based or not. Usually not unfortunately. This includes political aggression, religious aggression, racist aggression, sexist aggression – so much aggression. 

You are wrong and I am right; the posted toxicity leads to an escalated pile-on of aggression on one either side, or both usually. Too many individuals, groups and organizations also use the platform to misinform and divide for whatever nefarious ulterior motives they have.

We also marginalize those we don’t agree with online, those who we think are ignorant and uninformed, those we don’t know very well or want to take the time to understand, those who we thought we knew well and didn't. This all leads to shock, disgust, frustration and further aggression. Or blocking or unfriending (which I’ve done). Or just quitting Facebook altogether (which I’ve been tempted to do more than once). 

Even when we’re trying to change the hearts and minds of others we feel are out of their friggin’ minds with well-measured rational and positive affirmations, that can still lead to aggressive pile-ons that change no hearts and no minds. 

And even when we try to counter all of the above with family-and-friend friendly pictures and posts, and/or socially safe memes, and/or neutral work-related promotional posts, they may only help to diffuse the toxic aggression temporarily. Because there’s also another dumpster fire ready to start somewhere (I'm guilty as charged for starting some of those). 

This was a conversation I had with a dear old friend I hadn’t seen since pre-covid. We were in person for the first time in a long time, visiting with some of my family we also hadn't seen since pre-covid. The added stress of separation, no matter how differently we all see the world, was further poisoned by one of the very platforms that was supposed to help keep us all connected during this pandemic. 

None of this is new either; the nasty social network rhetoric has only escalated since I was first on Facebook back in 2008. And these are people we all know in some capacity – no anonymity here. With anonymity, it's so much worse and such an extreme health and safety problem with bullying and threats of rape and death. 

We keep hearing our daughter’s voices in our heads, “Why don’t you just get off this Facebook thing, Mom and Dad. It just makes you mad.”

And they're right. We don’t want either of our daughters to be on any of these kinds of social networks where they have to trudge through the radioactive waste of everybody else’s nuclear thought bombs. That’s another problem as well, the glow of this nasty sludge never goes away. Others can find it and see it – prospective employers, for example. Or, places where you might want to volunteer at. Or, where you might want to go to college. And the list goes on. 

My wife Amy doesn't spend a lot of time on Facebook anymore. She mostly just likes to numb her mind and surf through it, looking for positive posts and funnies that make her laugh, and now mostly steers clear of the fires. She tells me she doesn't want me to quit Facebook because of these GOTG posts I share, and I'm the family photo Dad posting pics she can share and comment on! 

We didn't grow up with any mobile devices or online social networks. Thank God for that. However, both our girls have grown up with devices and the internet and are quite comfortable playing innocuous and cute kid apps and games for now (which we monitor and check-in on often). 

But we don't really monitor and check-in often on ourselves when online. What was supposed to be the positive aspect of the internet and platforms like Facebook – the ability to connect with anyone, anywhere, at any time and to share positive life stories, important (and true) news that affects us all, pictures and videos to loved ones we can't see in person and other important life events, has really just gone to hell.

We've learned things about each other that we never really wanted to know, complicating further the tenuous relationships we may have already had. Thankfully many of us walk away before escalation, but too many of us still don't. Instead, we release our inner Kraken and don't check ourselves, or each other, repeatedly marginalizing each other with nuclear slight bombs. And then afterwards, we're caught happily surfing the toxic afterglow, awash in wave after wave of negative biases and -isms. 

Our kids are right – we really should get off this Facebook thing. Ugh. 

The Safetyists

"The snakes and arrows a child is heir to

Are enough to leave a thousand cuts

We build our defenses, a place of safety

And leave the darker places unexplored..."

–Rush, Armor and Sword

They found me at park near our house. I saw them drive up on the street, park and get out of their car. They stood there for a moment, probably collecting themselves on what to say to me, what to ask me. My behavior had been more and more emotionally erratic during my senior year in high school. They had no idea as to why. Not many people did, not even my closest friends at the time. 

And it's not that they wouldn't have listened if I tried to explain what was happening. They would've, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't articulate it. Not until that moment at the park. Earlier we'd been at some event inside an auditorium, which I believe it was another in a series of high school graduation events. Before the event had started, I had fled.

My parents came and sat across from me. I talked and cried. They listened and cried. I told them how alone I felt. How I didn't want to be here anymore. How crushing the stress and the anxiety was that I felt. How uncomfortable I'd get in groups and how I needed to get out and go far away. I didn't tell them everything then, but I told them enough. They had no idea this was how I had been feeling or why. 

Decades later, and my wife Amy and I have our own children. Two girls, now 10 and 12. Since October of 2018, we have a family meeting each week where everyone is encouraged to speak freely. After we share something about each other we've noticed over the past week, giving each other compliments and sharing what we're grateful for about each other. Then we move on to discussing managing our emotions, providing support, positive communication -- and safety plans. After that, it's share time, where the girls can discuss anything they want. 

We practice Kidpower every single day, empowering each other with emotional and physical safety skills, boundary setting and more. Amy and I are now taking a Positive Discipline course together, which is designed to teach young people to become responsible, respectful and resourceful members of their communities. Amy had taken a class two years ago, which is where she got the idea of the family meetings. These are all things that we can do. 

Being able to speak freely without judgement isn't easy to do today in our society. The isolating impact of COVID-19, along with the social upheaval of the past year and continued polarized shaming and blaming, it can really suck being an adult or a child these days.

Which is why we make it so safe to talk to each other about all these things. One positive thing about this past year is that we've become closer as a family. We speak freely without judgement, respecting each other's boundaries and keeping each other safe. We do get eye-rolls and sighs sometimes when we review being emotionally and physically safe with the girls, but we know it will pay dividends for them living a healthy life as adults with healthy relationships.

And just the other night during dinner:

"You guys are safetyists," said Beatrice.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"You want us to be safe."

"Well, yeah. We do. That's okay, right?"

"Well, yeah." 

"And we want to be safe, too."

"Well, yeah." 

"So, we're the safetyists."

"Well, yeah." 

And so it goes. #BhivePower

Our Fairy Daughter-Mother

"If we go down then we go down together
We'll get away with everything
Let's show them we are better..."

-The Chainsmokers, Paris

We couldn't wait to fly to Paris. No kids, no jobs, no other responsibilities other than our pets that would be taken care of by both our parents. We'd be gone for nearly two months, traveling through Europe, stopping along the way in Internet cafes to email our families about our trip.

At the time, we were never going to have children, and our families, especially mine, didn't understand why. We were seen as selfish for not wanting children, causing a low-level reciprocal resentment between us and my family.

And we were selfish about our lives -- because they were our lives -- and we lived them exactly how we wanted to live them. Unapologetically. Although, my familial guilt nagged at me a lot more than my wife, Amy.

It would be years and a lot of other interrelated family drama later before we changed our minds about having children. Our choice. Our terms. Our love evolving into our own blossoming family, with Beatrice first, followed by Bryce nearly two years later. Some of our past family frozen tundra thawed, and life moved on with various family gatherings here and there, holidays and other days throughout the year.

Even more interrelated family drama later we've made a concerted effort to see and speak with much of our families throughout the year whenever we can. And the "we" in this equation is really singular, the fact that families tend to have specific individuals, usually female, the moms in my experience, who stay connected with extended family, wherever they are in the world. My mom prided herself in doing that until she died, always ensuring loving communication with even the most distant members on birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries -- the endless mesh of life events from childhood to the elder years.

My sister continues to carry some of this responsibility, as does my wife, much more so than me. In fact, I've never really been very good at keeping in touch with extended family over time. It's not that I don't care, I do. It's just that I default to the moms in my life, especially my wife who keeps our extended family fires burning. It's been easier that way. Sadly I am that lazy gender stereotype at times who, in his head, claims to be too busy to do the outreach work.

And yet, there's a new champion in our family for family, one that came on unexpectedly, especially since she doesn't see our families that much, but is always asking about them, always wanting to see them and/or talk with them via iPad, phone, text or in person when possible. That's our oldest, Beatrice. Bryce loves to see family too, but she's too much like her dad, the occasional grumpster who doesn't always want to see or talk with folks, who's too "busy", and who defaults to the Mama to manage all that stuff.

Beatrice -- a caring, compassionate child. An empathic old soul. Our fairy daughter-mother who wants us to be better as a family for our family.

Happy Mother's Day to you, my child.

Their Ultimate Wellbeing

The doctor was wrong.

"These areas here," the doctor said, tracing a few white streaks on youngest daughter Bryce's x-rays of her lungs, "are the beginning stages of pneumonia."

But we didn't know then he was wrong. Not until our primary doctor in Santa Cruz told us the radiologist's reading of the x-rays were that she didn't have pneumonia. Thank goodness, because Bryce just threw up the liquid antibiotic that he had prescribed. Over and over again. The four different times we tried to give it to her.

Bryce was the last to get the bad gunky hacking flu/cold (whatever it was) bug. And she had the worst of the symptoms out of the four of us. All while we were away from home visiting family. I'd been patient zero, bringing back the bug from my last work trip the week before. It came on fast; it felt like my body was being beat up from the inside out. Within 24 hours, Amy and our oldest daughter Beatrice went down in hacking flames. Then Bryce got it.

Then a few days later, I got on a plane for back-to-back work trips, first to Houston and then to Washington DC. Most likely infecting everyone in my breath's wake. No shaming, please. Then I flew to Reno to be with Amy and the girls in Carson City, where Amy's sister's family lives, her mom lives and her dad and step-mom live.

Infecting everyone in my wake along the way. And I'm sure my family did the same, too.

The last night we were in Carson City, of which to that point they/we were having a great time, Bryce had been coughing nonstop for most of the day. Our worry escalated with every cough. We shouldn't have kept dragging her around, going to a pizza party and then playing at a park where the cold Sierra high desert wind pierced all our already compromised lungs. She should've been resting in a warm bed instead.

So, that night, we weren't sure what to do. Go to urgent care? Call a family member for advice? We'd already given her enough doses of child's ibuprofen and my wife Amy had run to the store for cough syrup, which in the end helped Bryce stop coughing and she fell asleep around nine that night.

We all slept on it, but it was really stressful because of a pattern my wife and I have -- I defer many parenting decisions to her, even though we've been a team for most of our relationship. Of course she knows this, and so she doesn't expect me to insist on decision making most of the time. But when I do insist, I'm overbearing and aggressive about it; there's no middle ground for me.

I wanted to go to urgent care. She wanted to call a family member for advice. And then Bryce fell asleep.

We discussed it the next morning, because although I have this long-term regressive emotional latency problem, we communicate openly and honestly with each other and really strive to find common ground. I'd argue this has contributed to us being together for 22 years and further cementing our relationship, not driving us apart.

On the way home Bryce started coughing incessantly again and this time I called the Kaiser advice nurse as we drove home. I had to call more than once because of the off-and-on cell reception coming down out of the Sierra Nevadas, but we've had a good run with Kaiser to date and need some definitive advice and action.

We ended up scheduling a doctor appointment in Sacramento, three hours from home, but it was the right move. Bryce was just so sick and pale and coughing nonstop again. The timing was perfect and we got there only a few minutes late. It was also the last primary doctor appointment on a Sunday, so we were so thankful we took it.

But again, the doctor was wrong, and again thank goodness. We did make it home intact and knew that no matter the adult relationship issues we have to work on to improve our relationship as husband and wife, we're parents as well, and that priority superceded any fallibility we have. We will do whatever we have to do to keep our daughters healthy and safe, making mistakes along the way, but always with their ultimate wellbeing in mind. Amen.

Real Friends Transcendent

"Oh, if I could hear myself when I say

Oh, love is bigger than anything in it's way..."

- U2, Love Is Bigger Than Anything in Its Way

It was like every teen friendship movie we've ever seen, except played out in grade school. The part where mutual friend X stops hanging out with group Y and starts hanging out more with group Z, based on whatever reasons friend X has.

Such is the circle of the modern free-society life. And that's fine, because the Mama (what I affectionately call my wife) and I have been through it; many of us have. But we also don't want our girls to sacrifice one friendship for another, especially during these preteen years when overlapping relationships can sour and lines are drawn, and all regardless of what we think as the parents and who they should be friends with (as long as it's not destructive relationship). Where the peer pressure overwhelms many of us and forces us to choose -- or unfortunately we're selected out by the very friends we thought we had and the groups we thought we belonged to -- or we self-select altogether. 

In this case, friend X is Beatrice, our oldest, who like me her father has an empathic heart and friendly disposition that makes her accessible to girls and boys of many backgrounds. Again, it's easier as a kid to have multiple friendships, learning to trust and respect others based on shared likes versus dividing each other based on gender, race or varied interests and beliefs. It's bad enough how some men end up treating women later in life (i.e., devaluing them, harassing them, bullying each other, assaulting them, etc.), as well as how women end up treating women (and/or all of the above). It becomes a complex destructive mess leaving painful scars and potentially years of therapy in its wake depending on the severity. (Read this article and this article for painful reminders of our adult realities.)

So friend X is Beatrice and let's call group Y the puppy club and group Z the kitten club (the names aren't really the important part, although it is important to note that they were clubs they formed and they're all girls except for one boy in the puppy club). Beatrice played everyday during recess and lunch with her friends in the puppy club, and then one day the kitten club was formed, but not everyone from the puppy club was invited to join the kitten club. Not for any particular articulated reason except for just because that's who they wanted.

Beatrice loved playing in both clubs, but started spending more time with the kitten club. Then the puppy club's feelings were hurt.

Sound familiar?

That's when the puppy club wrote Beatrice a note. A very heartwarming note saying they missed her and wanted her to play again in their club, but not at the expense of the other club. They didn't ask her to be exclusive, just to play with them again sometimes.

So we encouraged Beatrice to think about it and respond to the puppy club, thoughtfully. And that's what she did. She told them she missed them as well and wanted to play, but that she also wanted to play with the kitten club. 

The puppy club recommended having a movie night to rekindle their friendship. And that's just what they did. Plus, no puppies or kittens were harmed in the making of this reconciliation and the playing continues. They don't all agree all the time on what they want to do and talk about. Their friendship transcends the differences and these are important life lessons to learn. We're also so proud that Beatrice received an empathy award from school recently.

That's why it's always a good reminder to review some powerful Kidpower lessons, ones that are all about better communication with those important to us. Here are three keys ones from a list of five:

1. Think Before You Speak

Staying mindful about what you say and do can prevent a host of communication problems. If you are feeling so upset that you lash out at someone in a disrespectful way, this can cause damage to the relationship – in the same way that a rock will cause damage if it is thrown through a window. A clean apology with no explanations or justifications will often repair the damage – but it causes less stress and hurt for everyone if you can avoid the damage in the first place.

2. Respect the Other Person’s Point of View

People are different, and seeing things differently is normal. Communicating respect for another person’s point of view does not mean that you are agreeing with it.  For example, you might say, “I really respect your point of view, but this is an area where we are going to need to agree to disagree, because I believe differently than you do.” When people feel that you respect their perspectives and feelings, they are more likely to treat your feelings and perspective with respect.

3. Keep Your Heart Connection

When you are important to someone, you have a lot of power and need to use that power wisely. This means that, no matter how much someone’s behavior has frustrated or upset you, you need to separate the behavior from your caring and compassion. None of us are perfect, and all of us make mistakes of different kinds.

Yes, for now their friendship transcends the differences and hopefully will continue to do so. But as the puppy and kitten clubs turn into dogs and cats, transcending the differences gets a lot harder. Our views changes, our beliefs change, our lives change and our friends change, too. Sometimes we just can't come back from friendship setbacks, no matter the reasons. 

However, for some of us, there are those friends we hold onto for life. I can only hope that our girls hold onto some of their friends today and tomorrow as we have done. Where some of our best friends are the real friends transcendent.

The Differences that Are Sure to Come

He couldn’t stand Cesar Chavez. Every time he was in the newspaper or on TV news, rallying Mexican immigrant farm workers to unite, my dad would curse under his breath. He called Chavez a troublemaker.

I didn’t get it at first, especially in the late 1970’s. I had just turned 12 when my mother married my second step-dad, the man I would always celebrate as my dad from that point on. But I didn’t quite get why my dad felt the way he felt, at least early on. I didn’t know a lot about the world at that age, and why adults did the things they did, why the felt the things they felt. With the unfortunate exception of experiencing domestic violence and sexual abuse prior to that.

My dad had been a police officer and detective for 32 years when he retired in 1994. He was a tough, bourbon drinking, cigarette smoking (which he quit in 1984), very personable and pleasant matter-of-fact pragmatic cop who always lived in the conservative right, but was tethered to centrist sensibilities, like a padlocked box of assault rifles bound tightly atop a slow-moving station wagon.

We grew up in the Central Valley of California, the one that still “feeds the world.” The one that mostly embraces conservative Christian ideals. The one that battles over building a wall between the U.S. and Mexico. The one battles over whether or not we’re in a drought. The one that wants to own guns of any size and caliber because the 2nd amendment of the U.S. Constitution says we can. The one that still needs immigrant Mexican farm workers to work the fields because no one else will do that back-breaking work.

Throughout high school and college as I began to understand my world better, I would challenge my dad and my mom, who also shared much of his world view and prejudices. My parents wanted order in the world, so any person who disrupted order, the status quo, no matter the reasons why, were nut jobs, troublemakers and criminals. It especially didn’t help if they were non-whites and not Christian, but even then, my parents were equal-opportunity and orderly conservative Christians (which they became more of over time together). Any social upheaval was one upheaval too many, no matter who the rabble rouser was. My dad simply didn’t like bad guys or girls, those who broke the law. He was a cop for goodness sake.

But I always took them to task and took the alternative perspective on various issues, my more liberal education channeling a different social perspective on the world than they were familiar with. I was also more liberal than my sister, who eventually became a cop herself, something my dad fought, then supported fully. He knew how tough it was going to be on her as a woman. And it was. Plus, he had three daughters from a previous marriage, our step-sisters, and I’ve always believed that this is what birthed his moderate heart.

What my family didn’t realize throughout my formative years, at least consciously, was that they helped me find my voice. My value. My world view. My ability to listen, to comprehend, to analyze and to make somewhat informed decisions, both good and bad. They helped shaped the inquisitive mind I have today. We were like TV’s The Goldbergs, except we were a Christian cop family growing up the Central Valley of California.

My parents took the time to listen to us, were patient with us, although my dad wasn’t shy about calling foul when I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I was able to do the same with him. Any social more, politics, economics, race, gender, sexual orientation, AIDS, the environment, terrorism, crime, gun control – you name it – we could talk about almost anything and agree or agree to disagree. It didn’t mean we were always civil, or without some name calling, but we worked through it nonetheless. And yes, there were some big bumps in our relationship road that took time to fix, but fix them we did.

My parents were loving people and good Christians in the end who did care about those victimized and those less fortunate than most. But they had their prejudices, that’s for sure. (Don’t we all?) I don’t recall my dad ever coming to terms with Chavez’s important and highly disruptive social and economic impact. Until the end of his life, he still didn’t like liberal “troublemakers” no matter what. That would never change. I would never agree with this take either, and that was okay with him.

My parents cared enough to let us think for ourselves. To encourage us think for ourselves even when that was at odds with their beliefs. To encourage discourse and accept the differences. This is why with a heavy heart I’m so disappointed with too many of my peers I grew up with who are parents today, some of whom are old friends or professional acquaintances I’ve met over the years.

Those who are blatantly spewing hatred on all sides of the political and social divide. Those who without pause go for the jugular and cut it wide open. Those who get nasty personal without regard for the other person’s values or viewpoint, who even go as far as threatening and doing bodily harm to one another. Those who don’t do any of this anonymously either, who just fill up their Facebook feeds and Twitter streams with uninformed idiocy and hatred and who just don’t want to hear an alternative perspective no matter what. No room for productive discourse or compromise.

We’re either all libtards or facists. And all the while their children and ours absorb it all. That's what perpetuates a country and a world divided. That's why solutions escape us.

Sure I can use my Kidpower throw-away and walk-away powers, and I do. And thanks to the Mama, who is amazing, we’re instilling the same in our girls, who have yet to experience the hateful rhetoric poisoning the wells of collective wisdom around the world.

We will still work hard to help our children find their voices, their values and their world views, while accepting the differences that are sure to come. We can only hope that other parents will continue to do the same.

Miss you Mom and Pop. Everyday should be Mother's and Father's Day for those who make a positive difference in this spiteful and complicated world, regardless of the difference or divide.