Sustaining This Sustenance

It was five minutes until the lighting of the Boardwalk Christmas tree. Dusk settled into early evening and there were people everywhere: adults, teens, and families with little ones running around. Santa was spotted and kids rushed over to meet him. The weather was cool but mild with only the need for sweaters, sweatshirts, or light jackets. 

We had found a table right around the corner from the tree across from the pirate ship ride and listened to one of the local high school jazz combos play on the small stage next to the ride. They were amazing. Of course I focused on listening to the drummer who had some fabulous stand-alone jams. 

"It's like we're in a holiday jazz club," my wife Amy said. 

"I know. They're great," I said, and kissed her. We'd never been to a jazz club together, and even though it really wasn't one, it was still a pleasant first.

Our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, were off with their own friends enjoying the Boardwalk evening. It was two days after Thanksgiving and the upbeat crowds moved and sparkled like overlapping projection lights. That was great to see considering the current state of the U.S. and the world around us. Higher prices and fewer jobs weren't holding these folks back. Plus, the free hot chocolate and cookies were nice motivators. 

The countdown commenced, the tree lit up, the crowds cheered, and the kids screamed. No matter where all the people around us were socioeconomically or ideologically, the only thing that mattered were these moments of togetherness and holiday cheer. It sated our appetite for connection and community, of safety and wellbeing, and knowing there's always room to grow.

We moved onto the beach in anticipation of the holiday drone show, a faux fireworks spectacular. Hundreds of people poured onto the beach as well and the drone show commenced. Fireworks would've been prettier but the drones were cool. They morphed into various holiday shapes and words. We all shared our oooo's and ahhhh's, and after 15 minutes, it was over. 

After the Boardwalk holiday tree lighting and drone show, we packed up our chairs and blanket and headed to dinner. But first I again feasted on our community's love of family, friendship, and all the other ingredients for the American values revival we've longed for. Sustaining this sustenance beyond the holidays will be the key for a better future. 

My Algorithmic Stranglehold

Social media was fun at first. For me, way back in 2007 and 2008, I jumped into Facebook and Twitter, reconnecting with old friends on Facebook and making new friends on Twitter. Prior to that, I had joined LinkedIn in 2005. I wasn't a super early adopter, but it was early on.

Later would come Instagram where I loved to share photos I took. And it was fun. Mostly. Communication, connection, sharing, and of course sharing my parenting and personal leadership writing on the sites as well as my pictures. I've had an interesting run of writing online, too, almost quitting it all back in 2021. 

However, since the 2016 election, social media took a dark turn, and it's never turned around. And along the way too many folks got addicted to the clicks. The likes. The attention. And the algorithms' stranglehold continued to strengthen, shaping what we see and hear (and what we want to see and hear). That in turn amplifies the nastiness of human bias and the trolls that say and do horrible denigrating things online. 

More clicks. More likes. More attention. More rage. More hate. More misinformation. More bullying. More trolling. More of a crappy self-defeating mix.

And you may have heard about that Wall Street Journal investigation a few years ago referring to internal Facebook research about how Instagram causes increased levels of anxiety and depression and suicidal thoughts in teenage girls. 

Thankfully that hasn't impacted our kids (can't say 100%, but they've been okay), and we've never denied our daughters using social media. We've always monitored and asked about what they're watching and searching for and seeing and posting (YouTube is their preferred social). Now that they're teens, we also entrust them to use their own discretion and to stay away from inappropriate and dangerous content. In fact, we recently had the social media conversation when the Tik Tok ban was enforced and it was no longer available to download. Our kids didn't really use Tik Tok and were more depressed because another app, a video editing app called CapCut, was no longer available, also from the same parent company ByteDance. 

The good news is that we haven't see increased levels of anxiety or depression from our teen's social media use. The bad news is that I've seen my anxiety spike. Primarily due to the current state of the world and America, plus my addiction of clicks, likes, and attention. That social AI smack ain't playing, that's for sure. I've always struggled with wanting to be liked and social media hasn't helped.

Our kids are always telling us we spend too much time on our phones, that I spend too much time on my phone. I don't think I do, but I've definitely got my wife Amy beat there. Teens average 5+ hours a day online, and my average is 1.5 hours, so there, and even less soon. Our kids are lower than the teen average, too. 

During dinner recently, a time reserved for sharing our days and what we're all grateful for, they both scolded me for having my phone out. I wasn't looking at it, but it was out on the table because I had been looking at the news right before we started to eat (another algorithmic addiction). I literally had to turn it over and then remove it from the table. Both kids do a good job of keeping their phones away at dinner, so they've become the better role models for me. I should probably have a phone pocket at home to put mine in like the kids have at school. 

I'm taking a social break to weaken my algorithmic stranglehold. Kind of. There's still "work" social sharing I will do on LinkedIn, and there's the new BlueSky social network I've joined for those who need a mainstream social break and political refuge. Plus, there's my news and music algorithms to manage and balance (including my drumming channel). 

Ugh. I guess it's not a complete break; social addiction is real and so are the negative impacts. But, the break that I am taking and the positive time I'm getting back is time to reinvest in my family, my friends, my writing, my drumming, and more. Those are the "likes" to be liked every day. 

No Greater Companions

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you."

—Shakespeare, The Tempest

"Dad, no more steps!"

Our oldest daughter Beatrice wasn't happy. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station to a lunch spot, and then hauled them up stairs on the side of a small hill to the hotel. We'd been doing this between vacation stops the entire trip. Anything that is less than a mile is reasonable to us to walk to with all our stuff. Us, meaning the parents. Not the kids.

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

We're now halfway through our latest vacation adventure in the UK, and while the entire family is having fun and we're grateful to be here, moving from place to place can be a stressful grind. That's the way my wife Amy and I like to travel, though. Especially when we're in places we've mostly never been, at least not together with our children. We pack a lot in on our trips and it's why we save our money each year to go on them. We've been traveling together before the kids and since. They're always an investment well worth the spend for us to experience, learn, and grow as humans. 

This time so far we've seen really old rocks (Stonehenge), really old castles (Windsor, Edinburgh, Blair), really old churches (Canterbury Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, St. Giles' Cathedral), and so many really lovely people, old and young, along the way. 

But back to the travel schlog. Our youngest daughter Bryce doesn't mind it as much as Bea does, but like me, she gets hot easily, which makes her uncomfortable and cranky. While I never experienced backpacking-on-the-super-cheap like Amy did before I met her, hauling all our crap in between multiple locations I'll still do. The payoff is always worth it. 

"Dad, no more steps!"

The last stretch to our latest hotel was supposed to be only 39 steps according to a sign up a small hill. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station -- total time was only about 15 minutes to haul it all less than a mile. Our kids can get grumpy and beat us up when we push them, but we know someday they'll thank us for all these travel experiences. 

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

"Just a little bit farther," I said, huffing and puffing up the hill. 

"You can do it," Amy said. "We're also there."

It wasn't 39 steps, though. It was 44. A sign taunted us at the top of the stairs with that bit of information. A measly tease of five more steps and then another 100 feet to walk to the hotel entrance. 

"Why did you make us do that, again?" Bea pressed me one time.

"I'm so hot and tired," said Bryce. 

"Good God, just go to the hotel," I said, wiping sweat out of my eyes, more than ready to rest and cool off.

We can all get a little cranky on these trips together, not just the kids. I'll tell you what, though -- I'll take the sweaty backpack and suitcase schlogging anywhere in the world as long as I'm with my wife and girls. There are no greater companions in the world. 

Almost Gridless

As we hiked up to the falls, I imagined what it would be like to live off the grid in our trailer camper. Away from most people, politics, and all the polarization of today. Away from all things work and day-to-day responsibilities. Away from most everything. Except when we needed gas, food, and other staples. 

By choice of course, not because we had to if we were experiencing homelessness, or if we were running from the law. Then I thought of the Paul Theroux novel The Mosquito Coast where the main character takes his family to the Honduran jungle to try to live a purer utopian lifestyle with this family, which didn’t happen. But I'm also not a crazy inventor who would put his family in such danger. 

And then I thought of Roger Water’s album The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, about a man dreaming about his midlife crisis and his crazy attempt of saving his family by moving to the wilderness, but that was another Conrad Heart of Darkness journey that wasn’t what I had in mind. 

I like the idea of it, though. Of living off the grid. A more positive living experience than the examples above. To travel to places we’ve never been, to see wonderful new sights and hike and have amazing (and safe) new adventures. I’d write my great American novel, practice drumming on my practice pad, and read all the time. We’d still need the internet so our children could distance learn. My wife Amy could still work if she wanted and/or just read to her heart’s content and meditate. Maybe she could write her own self-help mindful presence parenting guide. 

However, like the examples above, it may take an unhappy turn (or two) along the way. Our daughters especially would miss all their friends, their devices, their school, and the all the other creature comforts of where we live now. Plus, the reality that Amy and I aren’t ready for retirement yet would also keep my dream of living off the grid just a dream. 

I’m not even sure I’d want to do it full-time either, no matter how much I liked the idea of it, as steep hike up to the falls continued. Our kids weren’t happy about the hike anyway. They never are when it comes to hiking. Thankfully we were with some dear family who live near Clearwater Falls in Oregon where we were hiking to and that kept them motivated. 

It’s Nature’s ride as I wrote recently, the off-the-grid payoff that keeps us all coming back, though, no matter how much the kids dislike hiking. We made it to the end of the trail where the final fenced off observation area was and we stood there in awe watching the water spill over the cliff’s edge. It raced to the rocky river below and the waterfall spray washed over us like a light rain. 

When the rest of our group headed back down the trail, our oldest daughter Beatrice and I wanted to stay for a bit longer. Together we watched the water dance as it fell, and in that moment, there was no other place on earth I wanted to be. And if these are the moments that are almost gridless, peacefully away from most everything, I’ll embrace them every time. 

Swept Away

"This land is your land and this land is my land
From California to the New York island
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me..."

–Woody Guthrie, This Land Is Your Land

She almost didn't fly over Fremont Street. We had booked the zip line ride weeks in advance, with our oldest daughter Beatrice agreeing to do the ride with me, her dad. Thirty minutes before our scheduled time, Bea grappled with and stressed out over the reality of flying 114 feet above all the people below walking along the famous downtown Las Vegas Fremont Street.

I on the other hand, grappled with and stressed out over the reality of taking our daughters to Vegas in the first place, the beginning of our two-week summer road trip. Since the first time I remember going to Las Vegas, I never really understood why parents brought their young children and babies there. The many times my wife Amy and I have gone, we've wondered out loud the same thing. Two days in Vegas as adults, and we swear we'll never go again.

But there are things for families to do together, especially for pre-teens and teens. And with that older kid awareness also comes the questions about all the less-than-kid-friendly things they see around them, which we readily answered since we talk openly about the world with our children. 

There was still plenty to do: we played carnival games at Circus Circus, went to the Coca-Cola store and sample sodas from around the world, went to the Hershey store, watched the Bellagio fountain show, ate yummy food, went shopping, went swimming back at the RV campground, and then Bea and I were swept away on the zip line. It was awesome!

For months we planned this summer road trip in our camper, one that we’re very grateful we were able to take. One that echoed the arc of a trip Amy and I took 14 years ago in May of 2007. A trip where the idea of the girls was born. Or, the idea of children for us was born. A two-week trip through the Southwest starting in Vegas and continuing through many gorgeous National Parks, including Bryce's namesake (Bryce Canyon National Park). A trip where our dog Jenny would this time have to stay home and be taken care of since we'd be doing too many non-dog things. A trip where I again take care of the poop.

After Vegas and Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, we headed to Bryce Canyon National Park. And it was again just as emotional for Amy and me as it was 14 years ago. We went into the park at sunset the first night we were there, and all of us were awestruck. This wondrous span of geological time reminded us again of our family journey we embarked on in 2008 with Beatrice, followed by 2010 with Bryce. 

Bryce was thrilled to meet her namesake, and even more thrilled to complete another Junior Ranger program. Kids who do these programs take an oath to protect parks, continue to learn about parks, and share their own Junior Ranger story with friends and family. Each park has its own Junior Ranger booklet to work through with fun learning exercises -- and you earn cool badges in the end! She had already done many of these during other trips we’ve taken and can now wear all of them on her Junior Ranger vest. Beatrice completed some of these too in the past, but now she's a little old for them, although she does help Bryce complete them, as do me and Amy.

From there we went to Zion National Park, another park replete with rugged splendor. And way too many people – the park was already packed early when we arrived. We still got to do everything we wanted to included hiking into The Narrows and the Virgin River. What we didn’t do is hike Angels Landing.

If you’re not familiar with Angels Landing, it’s an iconic rock formation in Zion 1,500 feet tall with a hiking trail that includes a series of chains, guard-rails and carved steps along the way. Amy and I did it 14 years earlier, nearly making it to the end, but in the end we couldn’t finish it. The last half mile or so, the trail is only a few feet wide, and that’s where we stopped. At one point as we held onto the chain, a family with young kids scrambled around us and encouraged us to keep going. We did not. Looking up at Angels Landing again 14 years later, I could not believe we ever friggin’ did it in the first place considering my fear of heights (even though I did do the zip line referenced above and continue to do things that face this fear). 

While in the Zion area, we went to Pipe Spring National Monument, which is managed by both the National Park Service and the Kaibab Band of Paiute Indians. This is the only water source between the Virgin River and the Colorado River, and its history is a familiar and sad one in America. One where white settlers displaced the indigenous Paiute Indians so they could own the water, and then they brought in their cattle and destroyed the expansive grasslands the Indians had lived symbiotically with for generations. Women and girls from the local tribes were also sold into the slave trade by Spanish settlers. This happened again and again to the indigenous people in America. That combined with systemic racism and what happened to people of color over the past 400 years in this country are realities we want our children to understand -- and to not stand for them happening again. 

The last part of our trip took us to Williams Arizona, the legendary Route 66 and the Grand Canyon. It was really fun being on Route 66 again and talking to the girls about it. How it used to be the main traveling road from Chicago to Los Angeles, and how many parts of it were what inspired the original Cars movie. When Amy and I went on our Southwest trip 14 years ago, we stopped and visited Seligman Arizona, another famous Route 66 destination. This time we didn’t stop after we left Williams area to head home, but we did drive through to show our daughters. 

But before we left Williams, and before we visited the Grand Canyon, we went to Sedona Arizona. One of Amy’s best friends lives near there and met us for lunch. After lunch, our family went on a Pink Jeep Tour, off road nearly 600 feet up in elevation, jostling us up and down and sideways like an intense Disney ride (think the Indiana Jones ride). That was super fun with super views!

I'd be remiss not to mention Bearizona, a drive-thru animal park in Williams with lots of sleepy animals. Keep your windows up and doors locked at all times, because seriously, sleepy wolves, bears and bison can wake up and charge (and 2 of the 3 will eat you)! After the drive-thru, there was another part of the the animal park that we walked through. It was fun for the kids and we even had a toddler grizzly bear waving at us.

One of the last big things we did was visit the Grand Canyon, the grandest of all canyons (that we’ve seen to date). We also got to see some family for the first time in a long time who live in Arizona, and so they met us in Williams and joined us in the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon (really a series of canyons carved by time and the Colorado River) holds such immense grandeur. It can also really make you feel so small and insignificant compared to the billions of years of geological time. I continue to push myself to face my fear of heights, and so walking out onto some of the railed ledges definitely fired up my vertigo. 

The views were breathtaking and the experiences unforgettable; we were all swept away. Again and again on this trip, we were all swept away and reminded of how grateful we are. Of why we started our family in the first place. Of why we love to travel. Of why we love to learn. Of why we love America – with all its wonder, imperfections and tragic history – and its unwritten future where we hope our children and yours will help each other, work together and thrive. 

“…this land was made for you and me..."

One Volley After Another

"Every day we're standing
In a time capsule
Racing down a river from the past
Every day we're standing
In a wind tunnel
Facing down the future coming fast..."

–Rush, Turn the Page

I wasn't surprised that the sight brought a tear. That's not unusual for me, to experience a moving momentary emotional surge. Like, all the time. 

I had been taking our dog Jenny for a walk. It was a beautiful spring day. Cool and sunny. On the cusp of what my wife Amy and I called a hot-cold day; too warm in the sun to wear a sweatshirt and too cold in the shade not to. I was headed to one of two walks we've been doing during the past year of the pandemic. This one would take us through the lower facilities campus of UC Santa Cruz, and then around Antonelli Pond, back along the railroad tracks to home again. 

As I walked through the always empty parking of the lower campus, I looked up and noticed something I hadn't seen for nearly one year: the tennis court nets were back up. Now, that may like seem like much of anything, but to us, it was everything just a year earlier. 

There are two tennis courts on the lower university campus that used to be open to the public. First come, first serve courts, each one self-contained by tall fencing and fenced doors that shut. This is where we found a fun family activity shortly after the lock-down last year, the newest normal for us then. By no means are we tennis players, but it was a physical activity we are really enjoyed together. Otherwise known as chase the balls for those of you, who like us, can't play very well. This included our youngest Bryce whining a little about chasing the balls, even refusing to chase the balls, with an occasional strong volley between us all. Bryce was actually pretty good with her volleys, and her older sister Beatrice is not too far behind. Plus, our dog Jenny could be with us, enclosed in the court with us, and either find a patch of shade to lay down in, or bark at other dogs passing by with their owners. 

But those days were short-lived, when even these courts were locked up due to covid, nets removed. Amy kept telling me that she was going to break into the courts so we could play, which we never did. There were other courts elsewhere near us that were open, but they weren't the same as the self-contained courts where we could hammer the balls back and forth without fear of hitting innocent bystanders. That never prevented our girls from hitting the balls over the tall perimeter fencing into the weeds, some lost forever. 

So, when I saw the tennis court nets up again, and the fenced doors were unlocked with "social distancing" signs on them, I teared up. It wasn't just because we could play again together as a family; it was because the world was finally opening up again. Incrementally and inconsistently, but still opening up. The pandemic isn't over either, and millions and millions more people still need to be vaccinated (and I hope those who refuse to change their minds), while the newest normal continues to evolve. 

The future keeps whacking us away from the past, one volley after another, sending our present time capsules over the fence and into the weeds. I'm just glad we get to keep playing. 

Back To School We Go

It was like the first day of school again. But it wasn't. It was the first day back after a year and change distance learning from home. My wife Amy took our youngest Bryce to school and then our whole family picked her up after. Bryce was nervous going back, and also really looking forward to it. After her second day back, I picked her up after school.

"How did it go today?" I asked her. 

"Good," she said.

"What did you do today?"

"Lots of math."

"Really. Was that a bummer?"

"No, it was fine. Just a lot. I'm glad I'm back in school."

"Us too, Bryce. Us too. Was your teacher glad to see you in person?"

"Yes, she was. I was glad to see her, too."

Us too, Bryce. Bryce remembers all too well that the last day of in-person school last year was March 13. Now we're finally back to hybrid in-person school two days per week for Bryce -- soon to be five days per week even before the end of the school year. Our oldest Beatrice will go back two days per week after spring break. She's missed nearly her entire first year of in-person middle school. 

Yep, it's been a lot for too many of us. Pandemic fatigue is real. As a family, though, we did okay this past year working and schooling from home; we're closer than ever. We helped the girls keep up with the schoolwork and they continue to get it done. We're also grateful that we've been safe and well for the past year. We've had our regular weekly family meetings, we have our safety plans we review, we've worn our masks and social distanced (and continue to), and now the girls have phones since they'll be on their own more and more going forward. And soon Amy and I will be vaccinated for COVID-19 as availability opens up soon.

The parental pressure on our school district to reopen is something that played out repeatedly across America since last fall. Teachers pushed back wanting to be vaccinated with other safety protocols in place. We weren't those parents, and we didn't fault teachers for wanting to be safe, only because we didn't have to work outside the home and/or struggle with balancing our work and helping the girls with school. We all missed school, don't get me wrong, but we were okay. Plus, our girls are older now, and we can't imagine what it was like with kindergartners, 1st, 2nd or even 3rd graders. Too many women left the workforce in the past year due to the impact of coronavirus, various inequities and family caregiving falling to them again and again -- nearly 3 million actually. So, we understand the why of the pressure. 

Amy works, and combined with home and childcare, its more than full-time. I continue to work and run a research firm remotely (which I've been doing for years now, pre-covid and now post). And yes, I help with home and childcare as well. 

We are grateful for so many who have worked so hard to get our children back to school. One year ago the infectious disease and medical communities didn't know a whole heckuva lot about what we were dealing with. Although misinformation abounds, and covid cases are rising again, science and facts are thankfully stubborn things keeping many of us alive and well. 

Thank you to all those who have believed in science, medicine, safety and pandemic facts.

Thank you to the pharmaceutical companies that developed the vaccines so quickly.

Thank you to the CDC and its guidelines and to all the doctors and nurses everywhere.

Thank you to all the first responders who risked their lives to keep us all safe. 

Thank you to all the essential workers who risked their lives to keep food on grocery shelves, to cook and deliver food, and so much more.

Thank you to all the government leaders and public officials who believed in science, medicine, safety and pandemic facts.

Thank you to our county health department and our county board of education and our school district administers .

Thank you to our girls' school leadership and all our wonderful school teachers, librarians and custodians.

Thank you to all the parents who kept their sanity after a year of distance learning (or for any length of time).

Thank you to all the kids whose resiliency was unprecedented and who also kept their sanity after a year of distance learning. 

Thank you to everyone who practiced all the safety protocols all the time.

Blessings to the many adults and kids who will continue to need emotional and psychological support in the months and even years ahead. Blessings to those who are food deprived, who are experiencing homelessness and the glaring inequity gaps that covid has shone new light on. For those who are able, please donate money, time and resources when and where you can. We're not out of the covid woods yet.

And yet, through all these covid woods, back to school we go. Maybe this fall we'll be back full-time, whatever this new normal looks like by then. Back-to-school blessings to us all. 

Our Little BhivePower Bistro

The second time she tried, she nailed it. We told her to lay off the salt and add more marinara sauce this time. She wanted to do it all, too. Make the salad for us, heat up the meatballs, set the table. Everything. 

But it was what she called pizza bowls that were so yummy -- marinara sauce, cheese, cut up meatballs and chunks of sourdough bread mixed together. 

And yes, it was a gut bomb. A super yummy gut bomb. 

Our 12-year-old daughter, Beatrice, has been wanting to learn how to cook for awhile now. Both her and her younger sister, Bryce, have helped us make cookies, muffins and pancakes for a couple of years. More recently though Beatrice has been wanting to cook meals. During the school week sometimes, Bea helps to fix her and Bryce's lunches, especially if Mom and I are on work calls. 

Bea's been wanting to fix us dinner, too, so her mom Amy helped her plan her menu. Then Bea went to the store with Amy for the weekly grocery shopping and to get her ingredients she needed. Once Beatrice started fixing dinner, we told her we were there to help if she needed any, or even if she just had questions. Earlier in the day before she fixed dinner she made what she called peanut butter crumbles -- shortbread-like drop cookies with peanut butter and crumbled chocolate chip cookies. More super yum. 

I don't remember exactly what the first meal was that I fixed growing up (besides bologna boats for lunch with cheese and mustard). However, I do remember attempting to fix my mom sugar cookies for Mother's Day when I was about 9 years old. Because I didn't have all the right ingredients, and couldn't find the rolling pin, what I made turned into some kind of sweet sponge cake. Mom was so grateful and actually ate some of it with me, too. 

I do remember one of the first dinners my sister made when she was around Beatrice's age. She called them vita-burgers. It was supposed to be a healthier alternative (to what I wasn't sure) -- hamburger patties slathered in some kind of thick gravy with other things in the gravy (not sure what the other things were either). Yes, it was a gut bomb. A super yummy gut bomb. 

Beatrice worked hard making her pizza bowls, making the salad and putting everything else together. There were only a couple of times she needed cooking counsel. Otherwise, it was all her. I watched her moved back and forth deftly in the kitchen like a semi-pro in training. 

Then came the moment of truth.

"Come on, everyone. Dinner's ready," she said.

We were so proud. She was so proud. 

"I really wanted fix dinner for you Mom and Dad," Bea said. 

"And we're grateful for that, Beatrice," we said.

Amy and I take turns most nights fixing dinner, so it was a pleasure to have Beatrice want to cook for us. Learning throughout life is important, and the only way to know is to do -- and did she do. Of course, the dishes always fall on Dad most nights, but I'm fine with that (because I get to drum afterwards). Dinnertime is also good family time for us, a time to discuss the day and to share what we're grateful for. 

Now, if we could get Bryce to cook dinner for us someday, we'd be set with our little #BhivePower bistro. 

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

"Accidents will happen

They only hit and run

You used to be a victim now you're not the only one

Accidents will happen

They only hit and run

I don't want to hear it cause I know what I've done..."

 

–Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Accidents Will Happen

As we straddled part of the two-lane highway with our trailer in tow, all I could see in that moment was the car that rammed into the back end of my Fiat X-19 at 65 miles per hour. 

That was nearly three decades ago. My ex-wife had been in that little car, her seatbelt on, and I was standing behind it trying to flag down traffic to help. We had broken down, had no power, the wheels had locked up and there was a light rain falling at dusk. We had broken down in the lane next to the fast lane on a multi-lane highway. Some cars had started to slow and pull over, and a trucker lit a flare, but it was too late. One car barreled down on us. I jumped clear. It struck the back of the Fiat and drove it over 100 yards down the highway. Amazingly my ex ended up with only minor injuries. One of the passengers in the other car had serious injuries. 

That's what I kept seeing as we tried to turn around on the two-lane highway with our new camper rig. I knew in the moment my reaction was as irrational as reliving the memory from the past, but it was too late. 

"What are you doing?" I yelled. "You cannot turn around here!"

"Yes, I can. There's plenty of room," my wife Amy said. I could tell she wasn't happy with my tone.

We had recently purchased our new trailer camper and this was only our second trip. Amy drove this leg of the trip and our two daughters were playing on their devices in the back seat. We had missed the turnoff to the campground and were now in a precarious place to try and turn around. Without the camper it would've been a quick flip around to head back the other way. 

I kept seeing another vehicle hitting us, over and over again. I pounded violently on on the plastic molding between the front window and my passenger door. 

"Stop now! We cannot turn around here! This is is a safety problem and we will get hit!"

I could feel Amy and the girls flinch at my actions and words. Again, I knew as it happened that I was overreacting. Sure, it was definitely a safety problem and we didn't have much room and there was a blind curve behind us. We ended up driving a little further to find a safer turn-around space, and shortly after that we were at the campground. We would've figured it out and we did. 

I apologized to my family and we talked through it. Amy understand why I felt how I felt, just not my aggressive response, a recurring response for me at times (the blue genes strike back). We've been spending so much quality time together as a family during this pandemic, choosing eyes of love (most of the time) in the face of any adversity. We have so much to be grateful for -- a loving family, employment, being safe and healthy. 

Accidents will happen, though. We both have gotten frustrated with our kids and snapped at them. We've gotten frustrated with each other and snapped back. The girls even asked if everything was okay between us when this happens, not understanding the difference between simple disagreements and the need for deeper dialogue. And now I realize that after these past six months of COVID-19, the deaths, the lockdowns, the economic devastation, the racial injustice, the protests, the cultural divide, the leadership failures and so much more around us that feels like it's all going to hell, that the road-straddle response referenced above was the beginning of my hitting a wall.

Again, I'm super grateful for everything in my life. But with us all home together all the time through work and play, the girls starting school from home again and us being bummed out for them, and then feeling like I don't have enough quality time with my wife even though we're together all the time, I hit a wall hard. Depressed. Lethargic. Hopeless, which is unusual for me of late. Everything feeling and looking like complete shit. The world going to hell in a big community handbasket. 

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) latest Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report (MMWR), 40 percent of adults said they struggled with mental health challenges and substance abuse. Ugh. I haven't hit a wall like this in a long time, and thankfully Amy and I always talk through it all, walk through it all, love through it all. It's so important during weight of today that keeps bearing down on so many of us, too many of others disproportionately actually, that we talk about how we feel. Get help about why we feel this way. Don't be afraid to ask for help about when we feel this way. 

We had severe thunderstorms last night that we usually don't get in Santa Cruz. Amy and the girls slept through most of it, although the thunder kept waking me and the lightning kept flashing and waking me (and Jenny our dog who barked at it a few times during the night). The past six months have felt like this hit-and-run thunderstorm that never seems to pass, leaving me exhausted for tomorrow. 

So, I think I'll just be thankful for today instead by talking, walking and loving through it all.

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

Memories Now and to Come

The turpentine burned as it hit the bites that covered my head. That much I remember. And all my crying. At that time, we had no other options as there wasn't anything else available at the small store. 

This all because of sand fleas. Although at the time, my mom called them sand lice. Whatever the heck they were, they got on my head and bit, bit, bit. Small welts all over my head. I do remember itching the bites and that's when Mom discovered what was crawling and biting my head. 

This was one of many memorable times when we camped growing up. Most being much more fun than the sand fleas. For a few years when we were younger, and before my mom and Jerry got divorced, we'd go tent camping in Huntington Lake in the Sierra Nevada mountains. I remember eating breakfast on cool and crisp mornings, exploring and climbing rocks with my sister, swimming in the cool lake and fishing for trout. 

After that, there was no more camping. A decade later, Mom and Dad had a boat, and then after that a motorhome, but we never went camping. My sister's kids when with them, though, and dad and I did go fishing a few times together on the boat, and I treasure those times. 

We've never gone camping with our girls. It's just never been a thing we've done. We've gone hiking in the mountains and swam in lakes and rivers with them, but no tent camping at all. And probably for good reason for my wife Amy as I've written before. The year after we met, Amy and one of her best friends took a safari trip to Africa and camped in tents. It was an amazing trip until they all got dysentery for days. And that was the end of tent camping for her. 

Although I've sworn in the past I would never own, much less drive, a motorhome and/or pull any kind of trailer camper, that's exactly what this old "no" guy Jedi has gone and done. We're super grateful that we were in a position to do this for our family, especially in these dire times with a pandemic surging around us that's leaving economic devastation in its wake. Neither has hit us yet. Either one still could at some point, but it hasn't, and our hearts go out to those who have lost loved ones and livelihoods. 

So for now, this is the only travel we'll be doing for the next few years. A way to see the great American outdoors and still be able to social distance, wear our masks and be safe. We researched the camper, we shopped for it, and we bought it, knowing we were in this for years to come. We then joined a wonderful online RV community that has been very helpful and supportive. 

Sure, some call it glamping, because we're camping in a tiny traveling hotel room, and not really roughing it. We're okay with that, because it's still time with our family and we can go anywhere we can drive to. The first day of our inaugural trip it only took about 6-7 minutes to back it into our camping spot correctly -- well, almost correctly -- when we thought it would take 20-30. We actually set it all up in our first campsite without hitting anything or breaking anything. I told one of our camping neighbors that and he said, "That's great, but you're not home yet."

Dammit. 

We barbecued hamburgers on our tiny camping grill (thank you, Mom and Dad!), and then on the first morning, we played card games and then fixed a yummy breakfast outside in the cool coastal air (we stayed close to home for our first trip). The girls rented banana bikes and we walked around the camp with our dog Jenny while the girls rode. On the way we made mental notes of everyone else's rigs and and all the camping stuff they brought with them.

We need this and we need that and we need that and we need this. We may never be ready for the zombie apocalypse, but we'll be pretty damn close. The true test after we have a few trips under our belts will be the dry camping, without all the hookups, especially if we have to stop somewhere to sleep, otherwise known as boondocking. We're going to make mistakes, hopefully not costly ones, and yet the only way to know is to do. 

We also made s'mores around our own tiny campfire, although they didn't quite look like they do on T.V.  We were then s'more shamed by family because we didn't use Hershey chocolate bars for our s'mores, and our chocolate looked like baby poo. That's love, baby. What they didn't know is that we used generic marshmallows that just didn't work the same either, so that's what we get. Still tasted good, though!

With so many new adventures ahead, all I could think about as we walked through the campground were my childhood memories and our own children's memories now and to come. I hope I've made you proud, mom and dad. Love and miss you both!

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

A Well of Strength

"Right to the heart of the matter
Right to the beautiful part
Illusions are painfully shattered
Right where discovery starts
In the secret wells of emotion
Buried deep in our hearts..."

–Rush, Emotion Detector

In the good ol' days, we never wore helmets while riding our bikes down the street, to the oak grove we called Little Forest, to school, to anywhere for that matter. We even rode our bikes to a convenience store nearly a mile away and back, which included crossing a couple of major intersections and going under a highway overpass. Not only that, we had more freedom than we knew what to do with. We'd play for hours outside until dusk, rain or shine, riding our bikes forever.

Decades later, and now hundreds of Gen X memes on social media later, we proudly reminisce how tough we were back then and how whiny and weak the Millennials and Gen Z are today. Back then, we'd fall off our bikes and get right back up on them again and ride off into the sunset with blood, guts and glory threading the needles of life before us.

And yet, for many of us, we could never talk about our feelings. Weren't encouraged to talk about our feelings. Were afraid to talk about our feelings. And if we did talk about them, we were told abruptly we were okay and to toughen up. To just deal with them and get a move on.

My sister and I were fortunate that we had a mother who did her best to listen to us, to give us permission to feel and express those feelings, to try and heal and grow from their acknowledgement. We grew up with domestic violence and sexual abuse and there were many dark moments in our lives back then. However, with the exception of a few good friends and even fewer accessible adults, it took decades for me to express all the feelings I had growing up. Feelings that manifested into anxiety, addiction, anger and depression.

Today, there's so much loss everywhere because of the coronavirus impact. Our youngest daughter Bryce calls it the bad history. Our oldest daughter Beatrice struggles to go to sleep nearly every night. My wife Amy and I encourage our two daughters to talk about their feelings. Not just at our weekly family meetings where we share compliments, gratitude, appreciation and talk about managing our emotions -- we check in with each other every single day. Amy and I empathize and share our feelings as well and talk about different ideas on how to deal with them. How do we get past them and thrive. Drawing, painting, outdoor activities and exercise, breathing exercises, meditation and even yoga have also been helpful coping strategies for our family. And I loved the recent Brené Brown podcast with Dr. Marc Brackett on "Permission to Feel"!

Who the hell plans for a pandemic anyway? Not everyday people, that's for sure. The stress that COVID-19 has wrought on society is unlike anything any of us have experienced in our lifetimes. Millions are out of work, out of school, out of all sorts, while hundreds of thousands continue to die from a deadly mutating virus that is still over a year away from having a vaccine.

This is why we have to be emotionally available to each other, especially our children. According to Kidpower, emotional safety for our kids and ourselves include the following recommendations:

Talk with family members and check in often. This is important for yourself and also for your kids. Provide many opportunities to listen to children no matter how small their concerns may seem.

Kids may need your help to actually find the names for feelings they are experiencing. There are many helpful, printable charts that you can find online of people’s faces matched up with emotions to help young children identify feelings. Drawing, painting, writing, and music can all be excellent ways to express feelings.

When big feelings come up, try to respond to kids in a calm, consistent, and nurturing way. Kids are emotionally safest if they believe their adults are calm and in control.

I'm tired of the tough. Of people thinking need to go it alone. Of doing it themselves. Of not letting themselves cry. Of the toxic masculinity that continues to surge again and again. Physical toughness may help in some situations, but not at the expense of emotional safety and a lifetime of anger and despair. That's not resilience. Resilience is the ability to recover more quickly when things go awry in our lives, and the capacity to identify and express our feelings is what builds our resilience. Acknowledging vulnerability and the fact that we're fallible beings who should be accessible to each other with empathy and love, and how resilient we are in dealing with it all, are all key to balanced life.

We're now letting our girls spend more time alone and venture off a little more on their own, and that includes riding their bikes without us. Our oldest Beatrice rode home ahead of us on one occasion recently. She opened the garage door, put the bike away, and went inside the house, where her sister had been waiting for us, alone. We were only a minutes behind, and not without safety plans for all, of course, with us as the calm and controlled adults "inside and outside" the room. We're working on a healthy independence dependent on the interdependence of our family. (Say that five times fast and put it into practice!)

We all deserve to be physically and emotionally safe, to be able to express how we feel and why we feel. That's not weakness either. That's a well of strength buried deep in our hearts we fill with love.

About All The Things

"The worst loss is always your loss. Only you know your loss and the meaning. Meaning takes time." 

-David Kessler, author, public speaker, and death and grieving expert

I knew it was coming. I told my wife only two weeks that it was coming. First, they blocked off the parking lots along the ocean and all the city and state park parking lots. Then came the county-wide order to shut down all the parks, the beaches, the ocean beyond the beaches that meant no surfing as well, and the walk path along West Cliff Drive that goes from Natural Bridges State Park to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk.

The order is only in place through the Easter holiday, for about one week, but that could change (and there are rumors that it might be extended). If you violate these orders, including loitering in groups in any public areas, you'll be fined $1,000. Seven people visiting Santa Cruz from another Bay Area city were loitering in a 7-11 parking lot and got just that: seven $1,000 dollar tickets.

All in the wake of preventing the further spread of coronavirus (COVID-19). Limiting where we can go locally over a holiday weekend sucks, so we had to get creative. And bold. And break the rules. Maybe. During the weeks of shelter-in-place orders, we've been going outside daily as a family to get exercise and air and take our dog Jenny for a walk and a run. That's included going to a park or a beach or down the street to play tennis, ensuring our social distancing no matter where we go.

And now it's all locked down. However, no one said we couldn't go play on the playground at our girls' school. Sure, we're taking a chance, but there have only been a rare person or two cruising through. Each time we've gone I sign the Judas Priest song Breaking the Law in my head and out loud. My wife laughed but the girls don't recognize Dad's old school rock. When we go we play games like 2-touch, 4 square, shoot baskets and play the game HORSE. All while letting Jenny run around the open field.

The other day I fixed my gaze upon the playground structures beyond the black top -- the monkey bars, the zip line, the balance beams, the slides and a myriad of other high-energy activity contraptions set safely on a bed of bark. There was no one else around.

Out of all the things we've lost to date -- over 113,000 lives globally and counting and all those lives affected by the lives lost -- and all the personal freedoms, millions of jobs, and the millions of little things we did collectively every day around the world, I continued to stare at the playground and thought, This is the most loss our children have every experienced. Many of the things precious to them are gone. Some for now. Some for good. 

They've never experienced anything like this to date. There won't be any more recesses for the rest of the year, no more kids running and jumping and yelling and laughing. No more band for Bea. No more science camp that she'll never experience now as a 5th grader. No more after school kids in nature program for Bryce. No more sports or run for fun, a weekly running club they were both in. No more after school musical theater that they've both loved so much. No more playdates with friends, except virtually.

There's so much loss everywhere. So many divides have widened. Prior to this, everyone's lost something in their lives, and now it's compounded exponentially by this health care crisis. My wife and I have been listening to Brené Brown's latest podcast called Unlocking Us. We listened to the episode with David Kessler, a death and grieving expert, someone who's lost a child, which I cannot imagine. What struck me during the podcast was when David talked about why we shouldn't be comparing loss because, "The worst loss is always your loss." And that we need to grieve and have our grief acknowledged. Not for problems to be solved or silver linings to be pointed out, just listened to and acknowledged.

I just kept rolling that one around in my head and heart over the past few days, the worst loss is always your loss. And then when we went to play at the girls' school, we just ran around, and played, and laughed, and we were all okay, for those moments. Yes, our kids are grieving the loss of daily friend contact, the loss of school, the loss of nostalgic normal that already feels like decades ago. But we're also grateful that our kids are resilient, and the ultimate meaning of all this may never be needed. God knows us adults may struggle with the meaning of all this for decades to come.

We're all grieving now. We're grieving of a world lost. We're grieving about all the things. It's okay to grieve. Bless you and yours this holiday weekend and beyond.

The Newest Normal

Again, she couldn't fall asleep. Stressed about all the coronavirus disruption and missing school and maybe one of us getting sick, our oldest daughter Beatrice wrestles with her anxious thoughts at night because of all the changes (just like me her father when I was her age into my 20's). We still read with both our girls every night, and that normalcy helps, and if needed my wife Amy, Mom with a capital M, will have us all do relaxation, meditation, breathing exercises, and in case Beatrice needs it, we have a little Melatonin at the ready for her to take to help regulate her sleep-wake cycle. Amy and I take it every night as well to help sleep, because sometimes even our own anxious thoughts wrestle within.

We're now two weeks into virtual school and shelter-in-place and like millions of families everywhere today, it's taking different stressful tolls on our entire family, while at the same time, bonding us all closer than ever before. Yes, we can get on each other's nerves, but for the most part, we're doing really well and all getting along and our family love has never been stronger. We're keeping our minds and bodies active: doing science projects, cooking meals, playing games, reading and drawing, with plenty of downtime and nothing as well, and getting out for walks with our new dog Jenny, all the while ensuring the proper social distance between us and others to keep mitigating the virus spread (although, that's getting more awkward and stressful, not less). Heck, my wife and I are Gen Xers and we're actually okay with the social isolation and the downtime (to other Gen Xers, I recommend you read this great piece titled It Took a Global Pandemic, But Generation X is Finally Getting Love by Courtney Dabney -- it's super funny and true!)

We're also playing tennis, otherwise known as chase the balls for those of you like us who can't play very well. This includes Bryce whining a little about chasing the balls, even refusing to chase the balls, with an occasional strong volley between us all. Amy and I used to play randomly at courts that are down the street from us, which still haven't been locked up like many other similar outdoor venues. There's also a public exercise park next to the tennis courts and others have been using it and playing tennis like us, never with any crowds though, just a handful of people at any given time. Even before the lockdown started we'd take the girls to play tennis, using two tennis rackets and two racquet ball rackets. We just bought two inexpensive tennis rackets for the girls (via online order, not in person), so our game of ball chasing should improve the more we play.

However, both girls really miss school and their friends. They've had a few phone calls and video calls with their friends and also playing interactive multiplayer games like Roblox, something they were doing before the lockdown. But there's no more band for Bea. No more science camp that she'll never experience now. No more after school kids in nature program for Bryce. No more sports or run for fun, a weekly running club they were both in. No more after school musical theater that they've both loved so much. No more playdates with friends, except virtually. We've also been checking in with family too and that helps since we won't see them in person for who knows how long. 

And again, there's no more in-person school. They both really miss it, too. Their teachers having worked hard getting distance learning and video calls off the ground for their classes, to give us as parents some semblance of a structured school day. It helps, but mercy me do we appreciate our teachers more than ever. We've always been invested in helping both girls with their schoolwork, and Amy's done more of the heavy lifting here historically do to my work and travel schedule. But now travel is no more for me, so I can now help more during the school days. It's a lot, it really is, helping them with their work, checking it before they submit it, with both of us still working jobs virtually. My organization Talent Board is doing a lot more virtual events and Amy's organization Kidpower is doing the same. We are thankful we're currently employed as millions of people have already been laid off and many small businesses have closed. 

The Triple P– Positive Parenting Program in Santa Cruz County held a virtual parent check-in this last week and we talked about why it was so important to provide as much consistency and normalcy for our kids (and the parents, too) as possible during these stressful, changing times. To make sure that every family can access the internet and has a computer to access classes and schoolwork, at least for kids in grades 3 and higher, although they're working on plans for even younger kids. Our school district has been providing Chromebooks to families and donated wifi hotspots to those who have limited to no internet access. Plus, those families who depend on school meals for their children will continue to get them during the shelter-in-place while the schools are closed, which now will go through early May, and probably the rest of this school year into June. 

My best friend from college was just diagnosed with coronavirus, and while thankfully he's not in the hospital, he told me on the phone, "We can't live a normal life right now; we have to stay home." He's right. And that sucks. It's hard for our children and for the adults in the room, but again, when there's nowhere to go, the reality is that every day brings the newest normal, one that will never be the same as we pine nostalgic for the old. To continually adapt, we still have our weekly family meetings and we check in with each other and talk about all the things every day. The newest normal is the only life our families will know for now, so keep helping and supporting each other. Be safe and bless you. 

More Mindful, Less Social

"Now you swear and kick and beg us that you're not a gamblin' man,
Then you find you're back in Vegas with a handle in your hand..."

–Steely Dan, Do It Again

It really is like being compelled to pull the handle again and again on a slot machine, this new world order of tech smart devices and social media.

Because I can be a winner this time. Every time, in fact. No gambler's fallacy here. I'll jump from writing this to the Facebook tab in my browser, to LinkedIn, and then to Twitter. When I'm on my phone or my iPad, Instagram is the other handle I'll pull.

Because I want to see what my friends and connections are posting, what my latest post likes and comments are, what's going on anywhere and everywhere at any given time.

And there I go again -- checking the social media channels.

This is highly disruptive and in 2020 I have to make a behavioral correction stat. Sure, I've been drinking the social media Kool-Aid since 2007ish, and I can still pull off writing in longer stretches without getting completely consumed by all the pops, buzzes and whirs. Although at times it is a struggle, I can pull off the deeper focused thinking that needs to happen with running a research business (called Talent Board and the Candidate Experience Awards), managing staff, all the project and planning work, and of course all the professional and personal writing I do. However, research has shown that every time we're interrupted from trying to focus on a deep-thinking task, self-inflicted or not, it can take up to 25 minutes to focus again --

Ha! Almost jumped to the social medias again -- but I didn't this time! Take that, you wicked slot machines!

Because there's also the focal time needed for my family. I'm a husband and father to two young daughters, and it's critical that I put the computer away, the phone down and close the iPad. Especially when my daughters remind me that I'm on these devices all -- the -- time. Which I'm not. I swear.

Thankfully we have lots of quality family time with non-tech activities (for a family that does spend their own ample time on their devices) and we continue to have our weekly family meetings, sharing with each other compliments, gratitude, appreciation and "noticing" -- something nice we notice about each other and/or ourselves that we share as a family, among other family-related agenda items (safety skills, managing emotions, what's on tap for the next week's calendar, etc.)

And then -- You go back, Jack, do it again, wheels turinin' 'round and 'round! Damn those social slot machines!

My wife and I mindfully meditate at least once a day, even if it's only for a minute or three. With so much daily disruption of 24/7 news, constant change everywhere and related repetitive stresses, it's surprising that we just don't go completely bonkers sometimes. Empowering ourselves with daily quiet, calm and thoughtful (and even thoughtless) stillness, somehow wrinkled into the non-stop go-go-go, is so vital for our minds, bodies, hearts and souls. We're very grateful that we can make mindful presence a priority.

The good news (I think) is that my device screen time is on average only 1-1.5 hours per day (it was down 15% last week -- thank you Christmas!). The average American screen time is 3+ hours per day. You should read this article by Kevin Roose, a columnist for Business and a writer-at-large for The New York Times Magazine. He was spending over 5 hours on his phone per day!

While there are positive outcomes of connecting with others down the street and around the world via your devices and social media, the addictive qualities of "always on" and the increased anxiety and depression for fear of not getting enough likes (and not being liked), as well as being bullied online no matter what you post, especially among our children and teens, really needs greater scrutiny by us as parents and the supposed adults in the room. Not to mention our compromised privacy, our personal information being sold to advertisers by the minute, and the now infamous continuous glut of fake news clogging our social arteries.

Ugh, I really do need to push away from my devices and social media slot machines much more often starting now -- and turn off all the constant notifications on all devices. It truly has rewired my brain more than I realized and pulling the slot machine handle again and again and again is affecting everything I do. I'm not going to call it a New Year's resolution, because only the act of doing and changing my behavior daily will make a difference to my psyche, my family, my team and my work in the long run. I do still need to use the socials everyday for work and my personal writing, but I will increase the frequency of other activities sans the tech.

So, let's go on a hike. Check. Did that with my wife this weekend. Let's play a game with the kids like Clue and Monopoly. Check. Did that with the kids over the holidays. Let's put a puzzle together. Check. Doing that with my wife since we got her new puzzles for Christmas (the one at the bottom of this piece is called "The Quest For Knowledge" -- so there you go). Let's close all the social tabs on my browser and turn my phone off so I can get my next research projects done. Check. Will do that starting tomorrow! More mindful, less social. I can dig that.

Wait a minute [checking the socials]. Damn you Facebook! Triple 7's! You go back, Jack, do it again...