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

Finding Joy

I knew immediately she wasn't a conference attendee. Not so much based on what she wore, clothes I remember seeing at Grateful Dead shows in the late 1980's. Colorful, loose-fitting shirt and pants. A little dingy, but no body odor smell. She had a small, kind face, tan and leathered, but I assumed she was only in her forties. She also didn't have on a conference badge, so that was telling. 

She stopped in from our table in the exhibit space eyeing the LEGO figures we had on display. They were part of our fun giveaway; attendees could build their ideal job candidate with the Legos and then we'd talk with them about optimizing their candidate and experience. Our company, Survale, helps companies improve their recruiting, hiring, and retention, through candidate and employee experience feedback. 

"How's the conference going for you so far?" I asked. I instantly felt bad asking her that, knowing that she wasn't attending.

"Great," she said. 

I wasn't surprised she said this. She was eating one of the tapioca deserts they had served at lunch. 

"The tapioca's good, isn't it," I said.

"Yes. Can I build one?" she said, referring to the LEGO people. 

"Of course," I said. 

My co-workers engaged with her as well as she built her first LEGO person. We all knew she wasn't attending the conference.

One of them asked her about the conference, and she said, "Oh, I'm not attending. I was just walking down the beach and saw this event. I came over and had some lunch and now I'm building a Lego person."

As she built her person, her face awakened with determined joy. There weren't a lot of parts to build these Lego people, but she methodically took her time, selecting and re-selecting the legs, body, head, hair, and accessory the figure would hold. 

She finished and I told her it looked great. Then she asked, "Can I build another one?"

"Sure, please do," I said. 

More determined joy. The exhibiting part of the conference was almost over, so we gave her the space and the time to build. 

One of our team asked to take her picture putting the Legos together. Her joy drained away and she looked concerned. "No, I don't think so," she said. But she ultimately agreed when she didn't have to look directly at the phone camera, that it was just for our marketing team.

When she was done with her second figure, she started to walk away, paused, her eyes fixated on the Legos still, and then turned to face us again.

"Can I just do one more?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. 

After the stranger left our table, I realized I never asked what her name was, nor did I share mine. I knew nothing else about her -- whether she was unemployed and/or unhoused; whether she had a criminal past or not; whether she was alone or had her own family; whether she had physical and/or mental health issues. 

What I did know is that for a few moments, she found intentional joy in putting together the LEGO people, and we encouraged her to do it, without shame or judgement. A simple moment of empathic humanity.

I also knew she was someone's daughter, and that made me think about our own daughters, and their adult lives that have yet to unfold. Supposedly humans make over 35,000 decisions each day equating to nearly a billion decisions in a lifetime. Because adulting is hard, we've encouraged our kids to consciously manifest a happy and healthy life. But there will unforeseen circumstances to deal with and poor decisions will be made along the way. Hopefully fewer and farther in between than we experienced, especially me. 

If there's one thing I believe we've imparted on them to date, it's finding joy in everything they do. Always. Intentionally. Unequivocally. Joy.

For the Rest of My Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Empathic Parenting Outperforms the Punitive

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

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

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

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

WTH?

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

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

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

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

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

Schadenfreude Be Damned

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Supernova Smile

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Right To Exist

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

–James Baldwin, American writer and civil rights activist

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

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

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

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

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

And this is only just the beginning. 

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

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

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

Happy Easter. Blessings to us all. 

A Longing for Loving Connection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

According to another article specifically on male loneliness: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Endless Possibilities Actually
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984
• Men of An Unremarkable Age
• Being What Happens Next
• Daddy Day in Monterey

Our Children Are Counting On Us

"Half the world hates

What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway..."

––Rush, Half the World 

The hopeful yet trite saying that most people are good must still be somewhat true, otherwise half of us would always be hating the other half. 

[Pause] 

Maybe that's not fair, to think that half of America, or half the world, hates the other half. That's an over-simplified view of the human experience, even in the realities of today. However, the history of humankind has shown us again and again how easily others are marginalized and trampled underfoot, usually by those in power and the way the wind blows. Plus, our biological human history has been a continuous struggle between the want of experiencing immediate and irrational gratification and self-preservation, and the painful emotional dissonance of rational evolution. 

In other words, we're mostly feeling beings who sometimes think, no matter the amazing human accomplishments throughout history. I certainly raise my hand in full admittance here. 

As a species, we have evolved rationally, ethically, and spiritually, and every generation tests this progress by demanding evidence and pointing out how fallible we are. My wife Amy and I are experiencing that right now with both our teen daughters. Two questioning kids on their own paths to independence and their own identities who grapple with the human-condition realities of today. 

Our oldest Beatrice currently has an honors World History course that we help quiz her on and we always get the tough ethical questions of why. They're studying World War II now, the Holocaust, and development of the atomic bombs the U.S. dropped on Japan to attempt to end the war. Why were over six million Jewish people exterminated? Why did we kill over 200,000 people with the atomic bombs?

And the list of questions goes on and on. Just like I remember doing when I was a teenager. All the hard questions, all the time, and never feeling satisfied with the answers I received. "Most people are good, and sometimes we do bad things, and God forgives us all." 

In my lifetime since, I've always wanted to believe that we've evolved ethically and spiritually, but over time, especially today, I don't think I've ever seen so many poor male and female role models in government leadership, business leadership, and everyday personal leadership who fully embrace, justify, and normalize misogyny, harassment, sexual assault, racism, xenophobia, homophobia, corruption, grift, hate, and violence. 

And I go back many decades now. These detrimental ideals are embraced, then denied, and then forgiven. But they never go away. The fragmented and biased media coverage hasn't helped. The constant misinformation hasn't helped (artificial intelligence and automation has fueled this, too). Finding God hasn't helped either and has perpetuated more hate than love. And the questions from our children pile up. 

Author James Baldwin wrote, "I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." That's why I recommend more study of inclusive empathy, understanding, and love, to be empathic allies, but that would mean folks would have to deal with their pain, the pain of why we hate and what we have to give up and give in to do that, and again, human biology fights that tooth and nail. 

Amy and I agree we've been judgmental about others and about current events we've discussed in front of our children, about how we see the world and the poor role models around us (and the good ones too), but it's never done out of malice. Anger and frustration sometimes, but never malice. This is why we've worked on as adults and parents is finding joy in the success of others, of those overcoming obstacles and improving their lives and mental health, and more, and how we can help or support their success. In other words, what it's like to have empathy and understanding where others are at, and why they are where they're at. Something our teens remind us of every single day with their adult commentaries. 

Blessings to all those poor role models out there in the world today. I hope some of them can turn it around, for the sake of all our children and grandchildren, and especially for the sake of their own children and grandchildren. 

Because think about what all the children and grandchildren see and hear and what it does to them, how it taints their perception of others and the world. We can choose to love and understand, or we can choose to hate and minimize. Of course it's not a simple dichotomy; human experience is definitely more complex than we acknowledge and the gradations of good and bad are gray at best sometimes. Again, we're mostly feeling beings who sometimes think, so let's "get on with it anyway" and think more about how we're feeling, why we're feeling, and what to do about it that's inclusive for everyone. 

Amy and I believe we can be better, and we can do better. All our children and grandchildren are counting on us. 

To Be Empathic Allies

“Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.”

―Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

“We must accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope." 

―Martin Luther King, Jr

My wife Amy and I have always loved "end of the world" stories. When we first met, we discovered we had both read Lucifer's Hammer, a 1977 novel about a comet breaking apart and striking earth and the survival story afterwards, and still talk about it to this day. Then there was The Stand by Stephen King and The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and television shows like The Walking Dead (based on graphic novels), Station Eleven (based on a novel), The Last of Us (based on a video game), and The Handmaid's Tale (based on Margaret Atwood's novel, and now a little too close to home). Plus, many more novels, movies, and TV shows in between. 

Ultimately for us both it was less about the why of the end, no matter how horrible the aftermath, and more about the how of human perseverance and survival laced with empathy and love. As long as there was a thread of hope and love in the story with empathic protagonists, then it reaffirmed our own hopefulness and love for humankind. Of course, that was just as true for us in everyday nonfiction stories, too. 

Including reelecting a convicted authoritarian president (and a congress majority) who only leads with misogyny, racism, anger, and fear, reaffirmed again and again by constant misinformation and lies for the past decade. Over half the U.S. who supported him may disagree with that, and/or overlook it, and/or not care.

The world may or may not end with a cataclysmic bang because of this; maybe it'll only end in a whimper and we'll survive this real-life dystopian future that's coming. In the meantime, it's still soul-crushing to believe that so many of us are driven by that much grievance, anger, and fear. Because ultimately it was never about the price of eggs. That was simply an unfortunate by-product of supply-and-demand economics that most of us don't even understand or care to. 

We're all fallible, feeling beings who sometimes think, not the other way around. It's always been easier to have scapegoats, others to blame for our misgivings and misfortunes, but history has shown again and again how this all ends. That's what worries me the most. Not the end of America or World War III, but the more immediate danger of a newly empowered harassment and violence escalation against women, the LGBTQ+ community, people of color, immigrants, neurodivergent people, people of different religions, and empathic allies like my wife, our children, and me (and many of you). The targets on our backs have never been bigger. And it's not just coming -- it's already here. 

Thankfully a dear friend reminded me that we do need to continue to fight the good fight on the ground in the communities where we live. To be empathic allies who lead with love, hope, and understanding and help ensure basic human rights and safety equity for all. And that's exactly what we're going to do. Blessings to us all. 

Making a Dent

Watching the wedding was wonderful. We listened to the bride and groom read their vows to each other and held hands the entire time. It was the daughter of a dear old friend getting married and I'm so grateful my wife Amy and I attended. Two other old friends were there with their wives as well, friends that go back over 40 years. As always, it was great to catch up on our lives, since we only get together a couple of times each year. We continue to invest in our relationships and reap the benefits of friendship, and I'd argue, more loving relationships with our spouses and significant others. 

However, research has always shown that men struggle more than women with sound friendships, love, and intimacy. And now they're lonelier than ever. An article I found referenced a recent study showing nearly one in five Americans reported having no close social connections. And men are faring the worst: More than one in four men (28 percent) under age 30 reported having no close social connections. The percentage worsens as men age.

The pandemic didn't help us here either – women, children, and especially men – all struggled with social interactions and relationships. We're grateful that we had a "pod" group of families that helped with each other's children and still ensured multiple opportunities to socialize. 

But for men in general, it's gotten more and more difficult to maintain long-term intimate relationships and/or friendships. It's gotten worse because for decades, toxic masculinity has defaulted to giving up on these relationships and has fueled a larger global antidemocracy movement that's an unhealthy and destructive reaction to changes in society that make many men feel lost, marginalized and searching for meaning and community in their lives.

Women have always been more of the connective tissue in the social and relationship fabric of today and past generations. Plus, more women are going to college than men today, and more women today are the primary financial breadwinners (even though women still make less than men on average). Unfortunately, it's been easier for disenfranchised men to aggregate to social and political movements that encourage patriarchal dominance through violence, celebrating misogyny, sexism, and racism, while severely discounting and diminishing inclusivity, love, and empathy. 

I've tried to understand the why of this, but I continue to struggle with it, and this is why I'm scared. Scared because of the willingness of so many men to bond indiscriminately in this rage and hate to feel empowered to be in power, jeopardizing the health and safety of women, children, those who are in the LGBTQIA+ community, immigrants, and people of color (except those who are part of the bro bonding above). Jeopardizing the health and safety of families of all flavors who continue to invest in loving empathic relationships across genders and generations. 

Thank God my friends of 40+ years don't think this way, because if they did, we wouldn't really be friends. It's up to those of us who don't think this way in making a dent in this growing gender divide, starting with inclusive joy and love for all. And on that note, please make sure you vote. 

The Greatest Return on Fatherhood and the Future

It was one of those moments that perfectly represented family love, pride, empathy, and vulnerability in a very public way. It was also yet another polarizing moment that the haters immediately hated because it was from the other side, about the other side, glorifying the other side. Of course, I'm talking about the moment when Gus Walz, the Democratic VP nominee Tim Walz's son, stood and cheered on his dad, crying with pride and love, at the Democratic National Convention. "That's my dad!" he said.

Never mind the fact that Gus has a learning disorder, which does make the hate even more disgusting. Here is a moment representing a healthy love between a son and his father, and while seemingly celebrated by most, it's denigrated by too many others.

But it's not simply a Democrat versus Republican thing. It's a pervasive toxic masculinity thing. A powerful patriarchy kept in business for thousands of years (men in charge). One that continues to prevent empathy, respect, and unconditional love from blossoming between sons and daughters and their fathers and mothers. One that continues to marginalize and endanger women, people of color, and LGBTQIA+ communities. 

God, I'm tired of being outraged by extremist outrage of any ideology, especially those who embrace the diminishing hate of "men in power" that has turned people against each other and their own best interests for millennia. Unfortunately, I had two horrible male role models as "fathers" when I was younger. Two men who had been socialized in the above hate. They were my birth father and my first stepfather. Both were abusive, and one was an alcoholic, and the other mentally ill. It wasn't until my second stepfather, the one whose name my sister and I eventually took, did I experience an empathic and loving father. One who wasn't afraid to cry. He was clear about rules and boundaries when needed, especially with my sister and I in our teens, but he always led with love and empathy. These qualities are also what made him a respected police officer for 32 years.

When I was sworn in as a local school board member nearly two years ago, I was filled with pride and love when my daughters and wife cheered me on in the front row. Later, they all asked me if I cried, because they all know that Dad is a crier. An unabashed and unapologetic crier. However, I am clear about rules and boundaries when I need to be, especially now with teens in tow. I'm the gruff "no" and "don't do that" dad, and I'm constantly reminded of that.

But I'm also the empathic, loving, willing to be vulnerable dad. One who only cares about teaching and empowering our children to be healthy, resilient, empathetic, respectful, and grateful human beings. This is the greatest return on fatherhood and the future. It's not easy to sustain, though. Sometimes I still fall prey to judging others and the haters gonna hate trap, which both our kids call me out on. 

I've learned a lot over the years about being a "man", a husband, and a father -- not always getting it right, but always working on it -- and I hope our children will always be willing to proudly call out, "That's my dad!" 

That Safe Space

They were not looking forward to it, their first day back to school. That's not unusual for any teen pre- or post-covid, although there's been more collective angst since. Social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, homework, and more are all pile-ons for teens, and our youngest Bryce is now an 8th grader and our oldest Beatrice a sophomore in high school. 

It was an internal emotional hurricane for both our kids those first two days of school, but then came the eye of the storm in the first full week of school, and both settled in nicely. Ultimately they both do enjoy learning, and seeing their friends, and getting back into the atmospheric rivers of adolescent rhythms, always with storm-fronts in view. They got themselves organized, though, and are ready to go. Plus, we're super happy they're back in school!

Bryce attended a marine science camp and took guitar lessons over the summer and is ready to get back into choir and theater again. Beatrice had her first paid job as a camp counselor over the summer and volunteered as what's called Link Leader, sophomore, junior, and senior students willing to help incoming freshmen get acclimated to the big high school sea change prior to day one. She's also going to try out theater this fall for the high school production. 

Oh my goodness, they're both about to have birthdays, too! Bryce will turn 14 and Beatrice 16. Mercy me, the time does fly as we were told from the very beginning of this parenting journey. I told my wife Amy on our hike today that, while it does go fast, we are so grateful to have been mindfully present for most of the moments our children have spent on this earth since birth. Entrenched in our hearts and minds have been the moments of every physical action and reaction, and every multi-faceted emotional interaction. Some have more loving clarity than others, and there are those we would prefer not to recall, but we are grateful for them all.

Sigh. Lots more moments to come to be present for, and now they're back to school again, amen. And the homework, especially in high school, is already piling on, just like all the social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, and more in teenage-land today. As parents, we do our best to help them balance all these stressors, but we can't do it for them, or go through it for them, no matter how much our empathy magnets polarize to pull them in to calm them, keep them safe, and to tell them everything's going to be okay. 

All we can do is give them the growing up strategies and tactics that we learned to adopt and implement over time. Some of that came from our own parents, but in the end we had to go through it all to make mistakes, learn, grow, and ultimately thrive. Just like our teens will have to do today, and the next day, and the next. As my mom always told me, you have to go through it, not around it. As parents, we can be that safe space for them when then do.

We Can Do It

The 2024 Wharf to Wharf 10K race had started and our group number finally was able to move. As we got closer to the Beach Boardwalk arcade building, I noticed two police officers on the roof. One of them had what looked like a high-powered sniper rifle (never in America; now in America). Both were scanning the diverse 16,000 participants from the Santa Cruz area and beyond, serious racers to friends and family enjoying this annual community event, all of whom would run and walk from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk to the Capitola Wharf. My wife Amy and I, and many others, saw the rifle clearly on its stand right above the roofline.

I scanned the roof of the restaurants across the street from the arcade, and there were two more officers, one with another sniper rifle on its stand. After all the Wharf to Wharf's we've done over the years, I don't remember ever seeing officers on the roofs above us. They might've been there and I just never looked up, but I don't think so. I mean, every year there is plenty of police presence along the over six miles of race route to ensure safety since we're walking and running along city streets. But it felt different this year. 

If there were other snipers along the race route, we didn't see them, and frankly, didn't want to see them. This was a depressing sign of the times, where the threat of potentially random violence feels like it's everywhere, even though violent crime is actually down. We live in a moderate-to-liberal community ideologically and politically, but there are still vocal extremes everywhere. 

So, whether or not local law enforcement had received threats to the race, we may never know, but it was unsettling nonetheless. The ideological and political extremists today thrive on divisiveness and hate that threatens to crater the middle of the road for us all. In fact, fringe violence has left more and more pot holes of fear faster than we can fill them, but fill them we must. What compounds this is that too many of us are too quick to fuel the fear and hate when we judge and tear each other down for being different, and when we don't see eye to eye on issues that affect us all. In front of our own children, God, and everyone. We revel in it, actually. Amy and I have been guilty of that ourselves, and our children called us out on it every time. 

Amy and I finished the race without incident and headed home, exhausted but exhilarated that we finished another Wharf to Wharf. Throughout the race I kept thinking about the police snipers keeping watch, and the majority of us walking and running in the race in the middle of the road, celebrating community and enjoying the live bands playing along the route. The race promotes the health and fitness of the youth of Santa Cruz (our schools). For those physically able to participate, it's also all about the joy of feeling alive and active, a vibrant mindfulness of empathy and love for oneself, and for the thousands of others across generations with a variety of backgrounds and beliefs. And along the entire route, locals cheered us on with "you can do it" signs.

That's a more relevant theme that extends beyond this fun annual race. Our family, and I'd argue the majority of families in communities big and small across ideologies, do not want to live in fear and loathing, or continue to enable the hateful disabling rhetoric, and will do everything we can to be stable, safe, and thrive. And to empower our children to do the same. 

We can do it. And we will do it. We have to do it. Our children are counting on us. 

A Grateful Dad

My dad was always so kind to everyone. Even after 32 years as a police officer and dealing with criminals and the dark side of life, he was always still a very kind person. We lost him and my mom in 2012, and we miss them both. Our kids were very young when they passed.

When I was a sophomore in high school, we were all watching the varsity football game. Me with my friends, and my parents were watching elsewhere in the stands. They had been there since the junior varsity game to watch me play. 

At some point my parents left the game. Fifteen minutes later, one of my friends rushed to where we sat in the stands to tell me my dad had been stabbed. A high and troubled teenager had been taunting one of the high school administrators working the football game and my dad had tried to talk the teen down. The teen wasn't having it, though, and he lunged at my dad with a knife, stabbing him in the upper thigh. Soon after that, my mom, sister, and I were at the hospital with him. Thankfully he was going to be okay. 

What I didn't know until years later is that my dad kept checking in on the teen and visit him to see how he was doing. First the teen was in juvenile hall for a while, and then after other arrests as an adult, went to prison. My dad had wanted to help him, but sadly, he was killed in prison.

Not only was my dad kind, he was empathic and forgiving. So many of his "clients" as he called them, the people he arrested throughout his police career, really liked my dad. And my dad tried to help people turn their lives around, although he knew first hand in his job just how hard it was for people to do that. 

At home, he was such a great father for my sister and me. He didn't come into our lives until we were 10 and 12, when he and our mom married, but it was as if he was always "dad" to us, which is why just a few years later we took his name. He listened to us, he cared for us, and he loved us no matter what we did or said (and we did and said some wowzers, that's for sure). He was always fair, even when we weren't. And when I was going through some of the most difficult years of my life, he did his best to understand, counsel, and console. He was also a goofball and a master of levity, effortlessly injecting humor and silliness into our daily lives. His infectious laughter brought perpetual smiles to us all. 

Dad, you helped me become a grateful dad. A kind, empathic, loving, and grateful dad. Thank you and blessings to you. You are missed.

I See All Their Shine

It was explained that his friend would read his speech for him during the 8th grade graduation because he was anxious about it. They stood together in front of the podium as she read his poignant words. 

One phrase in particular struck me. She read, "I finally found myself, my shine, my person."

Blessings to him for even standing up on that stage. I remember my own anxiety at that age, how crippling it became late in high school, and how I didn't really overcome it until my 30's. Mostly overcame it; I finally found my shine. I felt blessed to witness this young man's accomplishment at his age, and it reminded me all over again how we can overcome.

I attended three different graduations as a school board member -- one elementary, one middle school, and one high school -- and listening to what the student speakers had to say about making it through the pandemic and the isolation of distance learning and ultimately thriving due to family, friend, and of course, teacher support. 

Every student has a story and their stories are exponentially important to all of us today about resiliency, support, and love. I talked to my wife Amy about this recently as it related to our own two teens, one in middle school and one in high school now. With all the love and support we've given our children over the years, it's hard to watch them struggle with their own anxieties at times. Amy reminded me that they are teens; it's normal developmentally. That they struggled with isolation throughout the pandemic. That even though they have healthy friendships, their brains and bodies are developing rapidly, and the stress of feeling liked and included is excruciating at times (duh, I do remember). That they are more aware than ever of the world's volatility around us and how social media scrolling demons can haunt them day after day.

We always talk about all these things with our kids, and it's like Amy and me are living it all again, but this time we feel like we're giving them more grounded guidance, love, and support than we got growing up. Our oldest Beatrice will graduate high school in three years and our youngest Bryce will graduate 8th grade next year.

Sigh. And even though our kids weren't graduating this year, I relived the bittersweet moments of each grade as I witnessed the elementary, middle school, and high school graduation ceremonies as a school board member (all schools where our kids have attended and currently attend). 

The last graduation I went to was the Santa Cruz High School ceremony, and one by one the seniors were called up to receive their diplomas. I shook their hands, said congratulations, handed them their diploma case, and reveled in the diverse supernova of potential lighting up each face. When the last diploma case was handed out, I got to speak to the students and state that they were now certified high school graduates -- congratulations to the class of 2024! They cheered and clapped and I was just as proud of all of them as their families and friends were. 

I thought about the 8th grade graduate from the day before and the speech he wrote about finding himself and thought: I see all their shine, burning bright with hope, empathy, and love. And for that, I am grateful. 

Imagine That

"...You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one..."

–John Lennon, Imagine

At first, we couldn't find Strawberry Fields, a five-acre landscape in Central Park dedicated to the legacy of John Lennon. Our maps application guided us near it, but not to it directly. Finally after asking a nice woman walking her dog where it was, we found it. 

This chilly spring walk through Central Park was one of the last things we did in New York during our spring break family vacation. When we found the "Imagine" memorial, there was a group of people taking selfies with it, and many others sitting and milling about the memorial, listening to a man singing Beatles songs and playing a guitar. It was lovely really. Cold, but lovely. 

We were very grateful we could again take our family on a trip like this. Our teens, Beatrice and Bryce, really wanted to come to New York again, picking out our first Broadway show Wicked to see. We again visited the 9/11 Memorial, the American Museum of Natural History, the Met, the Empire State Building, and many other NYC sites. Beatrice also helped to pick out yummy places for us to eat. The weather turned cold, rainy, and windy while we were there, but that didn't slow us down. We took the bus in and out of the city from where we stayed across the Hudson River in New Jersey. We took the subway safely to many places throughout Manhattan, and we walked the streets of New York for over 35 miles over 5 days. All the people and the hustle and bustle of NYC did not disappoint. 

As we sat and listened to the musician play Beatles songs in front of the John Lennon memorial, I reflected on one major difference in this family trip than all the others we'd been on to date: we talked with our children about many adult things. They prompted the conversations, too. Ideological. Political. Spiritual. Current events and more. It wasn't the first time we've had these conversations when they're adulting with us, but it was the first time I truly saw them as the young adults they're becoming, with more clarity than ever. 

Everything that John Lennon represented (and still represents) -- peace, love, empathy, acceptance, and especially social activism -- I see in our children (and us), which was why our adulting conversations this time were so awakening for me. His ideology isn't for everyone, but it is for those of us who want a more loving and empathic world, and we look forward to our children helping to de-polarize the dark conduits of hate today. 

Imagine that. We most certainly can. 

Grateful For Being Human

 "...one day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back on..."

–Rush, Far Cry

Sometimes I wish I was an algorithm. One that would quickly learn from its mistakes, adapt, and improve, all without monsoon emotional swings. Without attaching conspiratorial outcomes to change. Without second-guessing its decisions. Without feeling buried under the weight of circumstance. Without feeling momentarily hopeless because things break. 

But I'm not an artificially intelligent "it". I'm a sometimes intelligent human being whose synapses fire, and misfire, as regularly as the sun and moon rise. One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. 

Everybody can feel that way, I know. But when it's you in that moment, especially when it's falling in on you, you feel like you're the only one in the world, the one you were once on top of. This complicates things being a parent of older kids, teen daughters who are more self-aware than there were as kids. They struggle even more because their brains and bodies are developing rapidly and their synaptic firing is like a rollercoaster ride the dives from the upper atmosphere to the center of the earth, then back again. 

And when things are fairly smooth for us the parents, it's easier to help them with the relationship struggles. their study struggles, their body development struggles (especially being females), and all the other things we remember from our own teen worlds. 

When things aren't very smooth, we still have to figure out how to deal and adapt ourselves in order to help them. We're supposed to be the adults in the room, and when things are seemingly rapid-fire change and circumstance, it can be a momentarily overwhelming ordeal just dealing with the ordinary and things that break. 

Our daughter Bryce's bike broke (which was my wife Amy's), which is a bummer because she's the only one willing to ride her bike to school at least once per week, which helps us with the transportation. It was under warranty and we got most of the money back for it, but now have to find a new bike that will definitely be more expensive. 

We had new flooring put in last year that included our staircase. But the very top one started to break and my wife Amy slipped and fell straight down the second one breaking it. She was bruised and sore but thankfully okay otherwise. That's when I checked the other stairs and noticed a few more were loose. That overwhelmed me as a safety problem for our family, although I know we'll get it all fixed.

Even with my default "no" setting, Amy and I were going to attempt to fix our trailer hitch connection on our SUV, and while we got a better understanding of how things work and connect on our car, with discovered that the main brake lights didn't work. The upper third brake light still worked and all the other lights worked, but not the main brake lights. We had no idea how long they'd been out, and immediately we ruled out the fuses and then narrowed it down to the light bulbs and the brake lock switch. But since the latter was above our pay grade, I was banking on the fact it was the bulbs. It was. Thank goodness.

All of these things – our daughter's bike breaking, the stairs breaking under Amy's poor butt, our car's brake lights breaking – combined with the fact that the work year's been tough and now my business has merged with another company (ultimately a great thing) – and all my synaptic misfiring commenced. "One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. I can get back on, I can get back on."

And I do get back on. In the end, I really don't wish I was an algorithm. I wouldn't trade my ability to feel emotions and experience all that life brings for being artificially intelligent in a million years. No, this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for being human – a fallible human who can feel buried under the weight of transitory circumstances. I'm grateful for a loving wife and partner, and two amazing daughters. I'm grateful for all my family and friends, my current employees and my new colleagues. I'm grateful for our health and our home. I'm grateful for my community, my state, my country, my world (no matter where it's burning). I'm even grateful that things break (sometimes). 

I'm also grateful for empathy, and this Thanksgiving, blessings to those living in war zones, in poverty, on the streets, with mental illness, with physical illness, with anything that compromises health and safety.

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.

Men of a Vulnerable Age

I stood in the shade of the awning with others, away from the creep of morning valley heat. A slight breeze ebbed and flowed around us as the service began. Soon after, my friend Craig shared reverent words about his mother who had passed. With the exceptions of my long-time dear friends Rob and Greg, Greg's wife Jody, and Craig's wife Noriko, I didn't know Craig's family. I never even knew his mother. 

But I did know about her through him. And for the nearly 35 years I've known Craig, he has always talked fondly of his mother. For nearly 35 years, we've been getting together with our core group of long-time friends (45+ years for those of us who went to junior high and high school together). The last time all of us were together as a group was January 2020. Then COVID hit. 

Since then we haven't seen each much. There was Rob's retirement party, and then some of us individually going to see the other mutual friend from our core group, my best friend since junior high, Robby. Pre-pandemic we've gone to Robby's as a group at least 1-2+ times a year for decades. Robby, who had broken his neck at a swim meet in high school, has been paralyzed ever since. While still living somewhat independently with home healthcare, his travel mobility has decreased dramatically over the decades, and today he doesn't venture beyond his own city limits. Also, outside of this core group, there's Troy, my best friend from college, and we've only seen each other once in the past few years. 

When Craig's mom passed away, he posted when her service and reception would be, and I knew I had to be there for him, as did our friends Rob and Greg. Listening to him talk about his mother at the graveside service reminded me of when my own parents passed back in 2012, only four months apart, and all the emotional upheaval experienced during that time. At his mom's memorial reception, Craig, Rob, Greg and I hugged, talked, and laughed freely, realizing how much we've missed our time together.  

While it may be true that men can go longer periods of time without talking or seeing each other, and don't necessarily thrive on intimacy and emotional connection as much as women do, my friends and I have shared quite a bit of our lives with each other over the years. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the meh. The stormy rainbow yak of life. 

In fact, what I've found is that the intimacy and emotional connections have increased over the years, even without seeing each other or talking to each other that often. Maybe it's simply maturity and nurturing empathy, although we still know how to give each other quite the inappropriate regular ribbing; we are a diverse group, that's for sure. Now in our mid to late 50's, most of us have our own families and children (and grandchildren!), and all of us have lots of life lived behind us, and hopefully lots more ahead. We are now men of a vulnerable age, making peace with our present, and embracing the presence of each other's love. 

Other past posts about these friends of mine:

• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Men of An Unremarkable Age