Because I'm Proud to be an American

When I look at our children, our daughters, our teens, I finally see who they'll be as young adults. Really see them. Never in a million years could my wife Amy and I imagined who they'd become. We do the best job we can of parenting them, and the rest, well, it's all them. 

It's enlightening and it's scary simultaneously. Literally to the bone. Enlightening because I couldn't be prouder of the strong, independent, no-nonsense, and empathetic humans they're becoming. Scary because of the world they're becoming all of this in. 

We live in a country that's always held the promise of equality, equity, liberty, and freedom for all, to live and be who we want, within the bounds of our constitution and bill of rights, regardless of our gender, our age, or our race and ethnicity. 

In practice, our history reveals again and again how beaten and bruised that promise has been. But we keep trying to get there, and there are those who keep trying to hold us back. I believe the majority is in the getting there, otherwise this grand democratic republic experiment would be over.

There have been those moments when the experiment teeters on the edge of authoritarianism, where ultimately unchecked power costs us our personal freedoms and works to require strict obedience to those in charge. I'm grateful to have been around the world with my wife and my children and not once have I thought, I do not want to live in a place without inclusive freedom. So, here we are today with our children/teenagers/soon-to-be adults (in a few years -- because time flies) in the middle of another divisive national election. 

What I've always loved about being an American is that, within our Constitution and Bill of Rights boundaries, we can all believe what we want and live the way we want. We may vehemently disagree on the current issues in front of us, but we still have the freedom to disagree, debate, and again, believe what we we want and live the way we want. Maybe along the way we learn to compromise and fully appreciate our shared experiences. At least that's always the aspirational goal and one we impart on our children. 

However, when the ultimate goal is to limit and even eliminate my family's personal freedoms and rights so that we must believe and live the way others want to us to, and compromise all that's afforded to us in the promise of America, then it's no longer an inclusive democratic republic. And here we are again, teetering on that razor's edge.

I have to believe that the majority of us, with or without children, will work together to keep our grand ol' democracy, with all its continuous contradictions, flaws, and historical scars, alive and well. I know my wife and I will. I hope our children will, too. 

Our youngest child, Bryce, a fiercely independent teen who's a little too cynical at this age, always asks why I keep our American flag out on our front porch. 

My response is aways the same (as was my parents), "Because I'm proud to be an American."

Freedom to Celebrate

The ride attendant called out over the loudspeaker if anyone wanted to get off the ride. I feebly raised my hand and the ride slowed to a stop. I'm sure my face was sickly white and drenched in sweat. The ride was called the Lobster and it was a multi-armed metallic monster that turned round and round, faster and faster, and the cars we were strapped into along each arm also turned round and round, faster and faster. 

We were at Magic Mountain in Southern California a couple of hours from where I grew up in the Central Valley. I was 11 years old at the time and my sister was 9. She also rode the Lobster ride with me but didn't get sick like I did. I realized then rides that went round and round would make me motion sick every time, and I would never be an astronaut. Ever. Sigh.

However, roller coasters were my jam, as the kids say. Not sure if the kids still say that, but still, roller coasters were and are my jam. At that same park in Southern California in the 1976, the Revolution was a new roller coaster at the time that had one full upside-down loop, and I loved it. After that, I always went on all the coasters. 

My wife Amy and I have lived in Santa Cruz for nearly 27 years now and we've loved having an amusement park in our own backyard -- the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Our kids have loved it, too. Now teens, we all go to the Boardwalk multiple times every spring and summer. Our youngest Bryce likes the rides that go round and round, faster and faster. Ugh. Our oldest Beatrice can handle some of those, but Amy's with me on those; she gets motion sickness and can't do them. Nor can she handle many roller coasters or faster virtual motion rides. The kids can, but only Bryce will ride the Giant Dipper with me. 

The Giant Dipper at the Boardwalk is the 5th oldest working roller coaster in the U.S. today. It's fast and fun and just turned 100 years old. We were at the 100th birthday celebration last weekend that included a big fireworks spectacular. Bryce would've ridden it with me, but instead was off with friends riding a round-and-round ride called the Fireball (blech), Bea was on the beach with her friends running around, and Amy sat with some of our friends on the beach waiting for the fireworks. I wanted to ride the coaster, so I waited in line for the Giant Dipper with another friend of ours and one of her kids.

The fireworks started while we waited in line, only two train loads away from riding, and we worried we'd miss them. But we didn't! The fireworks exploded above us when it was our turn to ride the old wooden roller coaster. It was fantastic!

I even had time to run back to the beach and give Amy a big kiss during the fireworks finale. So grateful to live where we live and not think twice about going to an amusement park and hanging out with family and friends. The freedom to celebrate our community. Especially when there are so many places around the world that don't have the same freedoms. 

Blessings to those who sacrificed their lives for our freedoms this Memorial Day Weekend. Amen. 

Deeply Rooted

We always wanted to do things our own way when we first got together. We wanted to travel. We wanted to get married and do our own wedding. My wife Amy wanted to keep her own name and not take mine. We didn't want to have children (until we did). Our families didn't really understand or agree with some our choices, but we were accepted nonetheless. (And that went the other way, too.) 

We were also always more progressive with our politics, especially on social issues. We were (and are) always more supportive of programs that help those marginalized in our society -- people experiencing homelessness, people experiencing poverty, women, children, people of color, LGBTQ people, neurodivergent people, and others. We believe that everyone has the right to be emotionally, psychologically, and physically safe, sound, and supported. Our families didn't always understand or agree with this either, but empathy remained (in reverse as well). Before Amy and I even knew each other, she loved the themes of individuality and tolerance in Marlo Thomas's Free to Be...You and Me and I loved the empathy and inclusivity of Sesame Street. 

Of course we've raised our children with these same values, because we can in America. We live in a country that's supposed to celebrate and protect these values, as well as those counter to ours. We live in a country that's supposed to protect our individual liberties, guaranteed by the 14th amendment. An amendment that was ratified on July 9, 1868, and that was supposed to extend liberties and rights granted by the Bill of Rights to formerly enslaved people. But it was also historically a time when those marginalized in our society didn't have the same supportive programs, and laws, that exist today.

Although we're saddened by the Supreme Court's decision to overturn Roe v. Wade and give the states the authority to regulate abortion and taking away the constitutional right for women to choose, this post isn't about that specifically. It's about the broader progressive theme outlined above and this:

The Constitution protects some rights that are not specifically mentioned in the Constitution, but only rights that are “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition.”

This is part of Supreme Court Justice Alito's rationale of why some liberties should be protected while others shouldn't be. When you think about that phrase, "deeply rooted in this Nation's history and tradition," and then imagine living in America in 1868, right after the Civil War, none of the marginalized people listed above were deeply rooted. Many had no rights whatsoever and were considered unlawful, regardless of the Bill of Rights and the 14th amendment.

Today, instead of ensuring our promised citizen liberties for all, what's still "deeply rooted in this Nation's history and tradition" is patriarchy, white supremacy, racism, discrimination, misogyny, sexism, and inequality. We were supposed to be better than this; were supposed to make progress; were supposed to find compromise in our differences; were supposed to figure out a more perfect union. 

There are those of us who feel like any progress we've made is slipping away. Voter turnout was lower than ever in many of the primaries this year. If the majority really feel that this country is no longer "we the people," then all liberties and freedoms are potentially lost to those who only care about power and control. 

Amy and I may be a long way from Free to Be...You and Me and Sesame Street, but our liberties and freedoms don't have to be lost -- we vote, we volunteer, we speak out, we get involved, we fight for positive change, we work together regardless of our differences. Our hope is that more of us, including our own children, become our best future prevention offensive to ensure that everyone has the right to be emotionally, psychologically, and physically safe, sound, supported, and are afforded the opportunities to grow and thrive. These are the liberties and freedoms we want to be "deeply rooted" in America today and tomorrow and will continue to strive for.

The Beginning of the Rest of My Life

We've gazed into the open sea tank dozens of times over the years. Watching all the tuna, sardines, sharks, stingrays, and sea turtles swim back and forth and up and down has always been relaxing. Our family stands there in awe every time we visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium. 

But this time was different for me. Profoundly different. While all the fish, stingrays, and sharks swirled and swam at differing speeds and directions, it was one of the two female green sea turtles that stood out. I stood mesmerized watching her glide effortlessly through the water in the front of the tank, slowly but deliberately, as if she knew exactly where she was in the universe in each and every second, free from the chaos around her. As an animal, she still has to survive the chaos and the predators eyeing her or her eggs as their next meal, especially in the wild.

If she survives, she'll live as long as most humans do. Her seemingly confident and methodical movement soothed me. So many things have been breaking for me recently, feeling out of synch, hitting walls, things going wrong, being full of judgement, worried about my health, worried about others' health, worried about my work, taking care of my family, the state of the world, as if I'm in this mercury in retrograde free fall. 

The sea turtle's mindful freedom calmed me. I couldn't stop staring at her. My wife Amy has that mindful freedom, something she's been working on for years. I have as well but I'm still behind, although our daily meditation has helped. And our children, they continue to have their own mindful freedom, at least until the weight of the adult world starts dragging them into the deep.

The sea turtle brought it all into focus for me. While all the people swirled and swam at differing speeds and directions around me at the aquarium, I glided effortlessly in place, slowly but deliberately, as if I knew exactly where I was in the universe right that very second, then the next, then the next, free from the chaos around me. I felt like everything just wasn't going to be alright, that is was already alright. That it was always alright. That it just was, and my response to it was the true measure of spiritual enlightenment.

With my wife and two daughters near me, I felt the profound loving warmth I always feel with them, but it expanded beyond them to all the others around me. It didn't matter that I didn't know any of them. My own newfound mindful freedom expelled all my worries and all my judgement; I watched them sink to the sea floor and melt away like snow on a spring day. 

I looked up and there she was, the sea turtle swimming peacefully above me. Maybe she was God, maybe she was me, but she's why this holy weekend became the beginning of the rest of my life. 

The Future of Freedom

I remember my childhood on the 4th of July: running around with my cousins in my grandparents' backyard, the summer heat beating down on us while we ate hamburgers and hot dogs, homemade ice cream and watermelon. I felt free without a care in the world. Even with the personal troubles we had at home growing up, those moments with the bigger family represented freedom and safety to me. 

Over the years I got to know this idea, America, more and more. Land of the free and home of the brave, where all men were created equal, endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

At least, that's what we were taught. In school, we were taught the sanitized version of America, and at the time I didn't know any better. However, growing up with Schoolhouse Rock did help cement the why of America and gave me a civics background in song that was more memorable than any civics class I had from grade school to high school. How I loved the Constitution Preamble episode (those of you from our generation can sing along!).

When I was in college, and then after college, I started studying history, the real history of this country, and how we weren't all created or treated equal. Not by a long shot. Indigenous people, people of color, women, gay people, and so many more segments of our country's population were marginalized, discriminated against and worse. It took nearly 200 years after the Declaration of Independence for the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to be passed, which prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion, sex or national origin. 

There's a great new show on Netflix called We the People. It's kind of like Schoolhouse Rock meets 2021, with today's musical artists composing and singing the songs. So far there have been two episodes: the first one is about how we the people can affect positive change in our country, and the second is about the Bill of Rights. We can't wait to watch the rest with our girls!

As I was thinking about this 4th of July and how my wife Amy and I continue to feel about learning America's history, the real history, and how we want our daughters to do the same, I scanned old July 4th photos on my phone. I found a cute one from six years ago with Beatrice and Bryce holding flags and dressed in old-timey clothes from 100 years ago. 

Pre-covid, Amy and I loved taking the girls Wilder Ranch State Park and celebrate an old-fashioned 4th of July. The park staff and other volunteers would also reenact a women's suffrage parade, complete with signs calling for the right of women to vote in elections. That's an important part of history for our girls to understand and to ensure it doesn't disappear. 

We love this country. Its ideals have empowered many a positive change for all kinds people, here and abroad, and we're grateful for those who have fought for those ideals. It's taken hundreds of years to get here, and we've still got a lot long ways to go in America, and go the distance we will. Because the future of freedom is always at stake. 

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

"If I could wave my magic wand
I'd set everybody free..."

–Rush, Presto

She used to be a certified diver. Even worked at a marine science camp for a couple of years, which was years before I met her. After we started dating, we traveled all over the world, including many places with warm water where we did plenty of snorkeling. I always wanted to get certified to scuba dive, but it just never happened. I thought about doing it in the Monterey Bay where we live, where the water is a chilly 55-65 degrees Fahrenheit year round. But that never happened either.

Of course, I'm talking about me and my wife, Amy, mother of our two daughters, Beatrice and Bryce. Ever since we met almost 23 years ago one day on the beach, Amy never went into the water where we live, only the year we met when it was an El Niño year and the water was warmer than usual and October was really hot.

Over the years since our daughters were born, they both have loved playing in the ocean. Still love playing in the ocean. So much so that we got them wetsuits and have gone from inflatable boogie boards to regular boogie boards. No surfing lessons yet, but lots boogie boarding and splashing around. I got a wetsuit and bigger boogie board last year and now join the girls in the ocean.

Finally, Amy caved in and joined us this year, with a new wetsuit on and boogie board in hand. It only took the current COVID-19 pandemic to drive her into the water, since we're not going anywhere anytime soon, even with more states opening up now that the summer is upon us. She's glad she did, too! So much fun!

This weekend is Memorial Day Weekend, an American holiday where we honor and mourn military personnel who have died while serving in the United States Armed Forces -- over 1.1 million men and women killed in all U.S. wars to date. It's also the official kick-off to summertime and the countdown to school being over again for another year. We're planning even more boogie boarding time!

Except this time, everything's different. We still have shelter-in-place orders upon us. School has been distance learning for our kids and millions of others. Our kids (and millions of others) are more stressed than they've ever been. We've only had mostly virtual contact with friends and family. Our beaches where we live are closed from 11 am to 5 pm, unless you're in the ocean and/or exercising on the beach (which we do!). Meaning to keep it moving and not camping out on the beach under the wonderful Santa Cruz sun like so many people love to do on a holiday weekend like this.

We also need to keep social distancing and wear masks in public and in stores in order to keep flattening the curve and mitigating the spread of coronavirus. Nearly 100,000 people have died in the U.S. from this virus and we're closing in on 2 million confirmed cases. The economy has also been rocked by this pandemic, with over 40 million people now out of work. The Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk remains closed, with 1,100 workers being laid off and furloughed just last week, so there's no summertime amusement park for our area to enjoy.

Through everything we've all experienced during this time of COVID-19, I keep thinking about the importance of Memorial Day, probably now more than ever. Why? That's a great question. My dad was in the Air Force, but never served during wartime, and we've had other friends and family in the armed services, but no one we knew who ever died serving. Plus, we don't agree with the reasons for many of the wars post WWII. However, we understand we're a democratic republic with many civil liberties and personal freedoms so many other parts of the world have never known.

I'm threading a needle here, and it's an important one, one that has kept our nation's fabric and flag mostly intact for almost 250 years, regardless of where we stand on any issue and all the cultural divisions and societal inequities of today. We should never forget the sacrifice military men and women have given our country since the Revolutionary War. It doesn't matter if some of them struggled with what they were asked to do, they still sacrificed themselves for this country and for our constitutional freedoms.

Which is why it's really not much to ask citizens today to sacrifice some our own personal freedoms for the greater good of saving lives and livelihoods in curbing this pandemic as quickly as we can. Or, at least, it shouldn't be that much to ask. And because my family can still go to the beach and boogie board in the ocean, we can continue to make the sacrifices needed today for tomorrow.

We thank you all for your service and sacrifice. Our freedom is always welcome.

On the Field in Front of Me

Photo courtesy of Paul Turner

I couldn't believe it; we'd been scouted. Just minutes before our game, during warm up, one of my player's parents approached me to relay that information.

"Guess what."

"What?"

"One of the hyper-competitive parents from the other team scouted us last week."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. Supposedly they're undefeated and they wanted to find out who our strongest players are."

"Wow. We're in a recreational league. What the heck? They scouted us?"

"I know, right? Well, we haven't lost one yet either, so let's give them a run for their money, coach."

Let's give them a run for their money. As I called out our starting players to take the field, I realized I wasn't that surprised. I never would've scouted another team prior to playing them, not at this level, but I've always been pretty competitive myself. Every week we played I kept the running score of our games on my clipboard, and every week we chalked one up in the win column, except for one tie and no losses. That was something I was very proud of, but tried to temper during each game so as not to get the girls to caught up in the gut-wrenching angst of pure unadulterated competition -- some of them would there in a few years anyway. So, except for posting in our team website after the games for the parents benefit, I kept my coaching cool.

The game started and immediately we were schooled. Their team had crisper passing, better dribbling, tighter shooting and a stronger defense. Obviously they were drilled over and over again on these soccer fundamentals, and they obviously played a starter roster and only subbed in when needed. They quickly went up 2 goals to none well before the first half was done.

And that gut-wrenching competitive angst blew up inside me. I kept it contained, thankfully, but I second guessed my entire approach to coaching this scrappy yet talented U10 recreational soccer team. Yes, we drilled the basics during practice, and we scrimmaged together every single week. And yet, my focus has been teamwork and having fun, fun, fun no matter what level their girls are at. That's why everyone got a chance to play every game and rotated positions throughout the season. I subbed the girls in constantly through each half, sometimes because the forwards needed a break, but also to ensure everybody played as much as possible. There are 12 girls on the team and only eight players can play at any given time.

Momentum is a malleable thing, however. At some point late in the first half, we took it in our hands -- and our feet -- and made it our own.

Something changed on the field. Something I'd seen already occasionally during the season but only now recognized it for what it really was: pure, unadulterated teamwork. The girls settled down and it was like their individual identities were blotted out. They dribbled, passed, shot and defended like the other team, except more effortlessly, as if each girl were connected to the other, elementals on fire that scorched the earth beneath their tireless feet.

And they were having a blast doing it all.

Once inside the second half, the score became 2-1, and then 2-2. The entire second half we dominated the field and kept the ball dangerously near our opponents goal over and over and over again. The other team was getting tired. We were just getting started.

Blink. Another score! 2-3! We took the lead with only minutes left!

Wait, what? Offsides? Noooooooooo!!!

No. No. No. No. No. Crap! Keep it together, Coach. Mercy me.

Minutes later the referees blew their whistles and the game was over. It might as well been the end of every underdog sports movie I'd ever seen in my lifetime. In that moment everything I had intended to instill in my team had come to be on the field in front of me. And it gave me hope in an ever-changing world, a world going darker by the day. It gave me hope that our children may someday help this crazy friggin' world figure out how to play like a true team and celebrate together all the fragile freedoms we've fought so hard to secure and keep, that now seem to be slipping away.

Yes, I really did get all that from this game and I know what I'll be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Thank you, girls. You are the future looking bright.

Learning How to Take the Lead and Play Forward

Photo courtesy of Paul Turner

And then she asked me again. "Can I play goalie?"

I took a mental beat and said, "Listen, everybody plays every position on our team. I promise you'll play goalie, but not today. You'll play other positions today."

She wasn't done. "I can't play forward. I not very good at. Please don't make me play forward."

"You're going to play forward."

She gazed out over the soccer field. The game was to start in a few minutes. "I tried to play it last year and I was just too slow. Please don't make me play it."

I took another beat. "Again, everybody rotates on our team so we can learn all the positions. You'll only have to play forward for a few minutes and then I'll move you to defense."

"How long is a few minutes?"

"A few minutes."

"But how long is a few minutes exactly?"

"How about at least six minutes?"

"How about three?"

"No, at least six or seven minutes."

"Ugh. Okay."

"Thank you. Now let's play some soccer."

And so it went with one of my players. And she did a much better job than what she'd give herself credit for. She really did. As did all the girls on our team -- The Blue Flames. Yes, I'm coaching soccer again this year. U10 recreational soccer this time, my team made up of 12 eight and nine-year-old girls including my oldest, Beatrice. We played our first game, and while I'm not really supposed to keep score (again), I do, of course ('cause we won).

But my first priorities coaching are otherwise. I look forward to practicing soccer fundamentals and teamwork and having fun, fun, fun no matter what level their girls are at. That's why everyone will always get a chance to play every game and rotate positions throughout the season. A big plus is that we have really involved parents that feel the same way.

I have such fond memories of playing sports as a child and throughout junior high and high school with many a great coach in my past. Coaches who wanted me to learn new skills and to safe play and teamwork and leadership and to aspire to greatness, no matter my level of play. My own daughter has improved dramatically since last year and is no longer timid in the heat of the moment, kicking and dribbling the ball like it's nobody's business.

The fact that we're free to do this safely on a Saturday morning isn't lost on me, especially on a day later like today in America, the 15th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. And it's not just because of attacks themselves, which were horrific enough for us all then and now, but also the fact that imperfect but necessary democracies like our own are constantly under siege abroad and at home.

Why am I segueing to this dark day in our nation's history? Because I can't get the children out of my head. The children here in America and those around the world whose very lives have been irrevocably changed and those whose very lives are in constant jeopardy every day due to violence, terrorism, war and genocide.

Like the children of those lost on 9/11, where over 3,000 killed and 6,000 injured on that day. Like the children in Allepo, a city in Syria, the epicenter of the worst humanitarian crisis in recent history and a civil war that's killed hundreds of thousands of people over the past five years. Unfortunately this list goes on and on.

God bless them all -- those children lost to violence and those who lost their families to violence and those young and old who live with the memories of it all. Like many of you out there, I'm a hoper and a doer, I really believe we can and do make a positive difference in our children's lives and those around the world. This is again why I support Kidpower, the global nonprofit leader in personal safety and violence prevention education, and September is International Child Protection Month.

It still starts with us, in countries like ours, where we're relatively free to live our own lives and speak our own minds, to challenge the status quo when necessary and to compromise when we need to unify and show true leadership. Where we're able to talk about what happened and why, and where we can still rise above and make a difference for our friends and family, our neighbors down the street and across this great country. We can create the incremental improvements that truly are the catalysts of positive change and progress for our own children, and for others around this fragile world.

Because I want to be able to coach a recreational soccer team of eight and nine-year-old girls who play on Saturday mornings with family and friends cheering us on. Where the only comfort zone the players need to push themselves out of is learning how to take the lead and play forward, not fearing for their very lives.

A New Reason to Give Thanks

"And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there..." —The Star-Spangled Banner

The first boom came at 5:28 am. Then a second boom. Followed by a third. I put my laptop to the side and sat up, torn to move in two directions at once: go to the living room window to see what I could see, or go to our phone and call 911.

Being an early bird I had already been up since 5:00 am tinkering away on my MacBook. A fourth boom and I grabbed my phone and went to the window. I could hear the girls talking upstairs; obviously the booms woke them. A fifth boom and then I saw it: the spectacular flower of an exploding firework. Then multiple booms with more reds and whites and blues and a myriad of other colors. 

I aimed the camera to try and capture a firework mid-flower, instead of calling the police, but the booms stopped. I waited, the girls came downstairs (which was around the time they wake up anyway), and the fireworks stopped. 

These weren't just a box of illegal jumbo fireworks bought in Nevada or Mexico. No, these were pretty cool fireworks. Disneyland pretty. The stadium-quality variety. Shot off at 5:28 in the morning for over five minutes down the street in the vacant lot where the local weekly farmer's market is held.

Disruptive? Yes. Annoying? Yes. Pretty? Yes. Dangerous? Maybe, but since they exploded over a vacant lot, probably not. Illegal? Well, yes, considering that fireworks of any kind are illegal in Santa Cruz County. 

The Mama got up shortly after the girls did ask asked what the booms were. I told her and the first thing she said was, "Did they girls get to see them?"

I told her no, that they didn't get to see them. The booms woke them, though. But after we were all up and sunrise yawned and stretched her lavender hands skyward, I reflected and gave thanks with a silent reverent prayer that I had my family with me, safe and sound and healthy, with sustenance and shelter, fairly secure in a seaside community at the South end of the greater Bay Area in the Golden State of one of the greatest nations ever to be created and sustained in the history of the world. A nation of immigrants wanting a better life for themselves, the "huddled masses," to have the freedoms they didn't have in their homelands, whether driven out because of religious and/or political persecution, disease, famine and/or especially war. 

Granted, it was at the expense of those who had already lived her for thousands of years, but that's a story for another time, and not one to be told in any form fully sanitized to validate America's Thanksgiving folklore. 

No, I was just thankful in the moment as I try to do daily reflecting on who I am and what I have, taking little for granted when I'm mindfully present. 

But then the sentiment of a family member interrupted my prayer with an important question, one she posted the day before when referencing a video about the harsh reality of Syrian refugees clamoring for safety in Greece (or insert your Western country of choice here). It was right after my weekly beach run, the one where I share a picture of the remaining natural bridge at Natural Bridges State Park and some creative and cutesy phrase. Of course it was "This week on God Bless everyone beach run."

She had posted:

Imagine this is your family, fleeing for your lives, trying to provide your children with a safe and decent childhood. 

My response was: Amen. But most of us don't want to imagine, so we don't.

Wherever you fall on the ideological and political spectrum, and whatever you believe we should be doing or not doing to address this latest global crisis, most of you will go through your lives unscathed, just as hopefully many of your children and children's children will as well, but as I wrote last week, together the aggregate power of your safety plans may just change the world.

Maybe. But with the rockets' red glare from this morning, to those from this afternoon when my daddy time with the girls turned into a battle of #BhivePower wills (that I lost), the only proof I need is that my home and family are still here with me, and I with them. 

Plus the proof that we still live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. The brave who shouldn't fear but be aware, who shouldn't blame but be responsible, who shouldn't resent but be empathic, who shouldn't hate but still be wary and vigilant to protect country, community and family. The brave who, if they can truly provide their children with a safe and decent childhood, should do just that. 

And maybe, just maybe, we'll give ourselves a new reason to give thanks by helping those fighting for their lives abroad because of war and terrorism, and those fighting for their lives at home because of economic hardship and prolonged hunger.

Happy Thanksgiving America. We know you can do this.

The many themes of Independence are flying high

"Um, um, um, red!"

"Okay, let's play with red."

"No -- um, um, um, white!"

"Okay, white."

"No -- um, um, um, blue!"

"Blue it is."

"Um, um, um, make french fries."

"Let's do it, sweetie."

That's us playing with Beatrice and her Cookie Monster Play-Doh food thingie-ma-bob yesterday. She was choosing the Play-Doh colors she preferred to play with, and while I manipulated the colors a little, because we don't really have white, it's been fascinating to witness Bea's word and sentence explosion these past few months as well as her daily awareness of the world around her and her path to independence.

Toddler independence that is. No, she's not driving and she won't be getting her own apartment anytime soon because's she's started grad school, but she is crossing that final length of Baby Bridge to Toddlerville and three years old.

Again, fascinating to be a witness to, to be parents of, to be mentors of, to be students of. (Yikes, and Bryce isn't too far behind not that she's a stumble or two away from walking.)

Play-Doh is a genius maker. Plus, it smells good. (What? You don't think so?) It fires the imagination and is cathartic, for those of stable homes filled with love and security, and for those without, like the kids of domestic violence I've worked with at the Walnut Avenue Women's Center (which is where I made my Picasso-esque Play-Doh face you see here).

While we played with Bea yesterday, I made a snowman witch hybrid out of brown Play-Doh (gross, I know) and Bea looked at it and exclaimed:

"Penguin!"

Right on. The power of imagination.

Tomorrow we're going to Wilder Ranch State Park for an old-fashioned Independence Day and the many themes of independence will be flying high in the sky for me and my family.

The obvious celebration of America's birth and the reveling in individual freedoms, the democratic due process, and beloved expressions like my grandfather's blast from the past, "Hotter than a firecracker on the 4th of July!" [insert what here]

Financial independence, which unfortunately too many of us have taken a backseat to in this post-apocalyptic economic ice age.

Mindful presence and emotional intelligence independence, which takes a lot more work than lip service, but the positive benefits are limitless.

Toddler, teenage and adulthood independence, which share enough collective fireworks to light up the dark corners of the universe.

But Independence Day takes on a whole new meaning when you're dependent on a broken body. Love you, Mom. We'll see you very soon.

Happy 4th of July, Family America. Give yourself a hug, would you? And break out the Play-Doh, too.

The letter B: Our dichotomous democracy and the alien shore

Dear Baby B,

Yesterday was our country's birthday – Independence Day – the 4^th of July. Mama A and I had a great day together kicking it all off with a mind-clearing and life-affirming hike in Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park.

We're proud Americans, B, and although we've been labeled Gen Xers and the "me" generation (are we really any more selfish than other generations?), we embrace our rights, freedoms and civil liberties as personally responsible Americans and are grateful.

Sadly those civil liberties have been put to the test in the 21^st century in the endless wake of 9/11 (and as can only be explained in cartoons). It's important to understand how America came to be, where it's gone and where we're going.

I'm in the middle of reading 1776 and I hope someday for you to read it, to understand the origins of our country without Disneyfication or censorship. Some of the same tyrannous elements our founding fathers (and mothers and children) declared independence from the British, we've dealt with of late from our own government.

However, that's why will live in democracy; this is a presidential election year and we have the power to elect one another president. I hope the next administration can put the "we" back in we the people. And that as "we the people" – we have a responsibility as well to ensure we remain thriving and free democracy. We may not always get along, and we don't, but we are the power behind the curtain; we can be the unifiers and the healers. No matter who reviles us around the world, there are just as many who look to America with hope and clamor for our alien shore.

Along those lines I read a great piece in our local Santa Cruz Sentinel yesterday by Wallace Baine about the importance Independence Day and the values of our founding fathers:

Still, as far as 18th-century elites go, these were pretty enlightened dudes. And that means all of us "from the treasurer of the Daughters of the American Revolution to the newly green-carded Korean business owner" benefit every day from the audacious gamble these cats made back in 1776. By throwing off monarchy, declaring religious freedom and enshrining that phrase "All men are created equal" in the new nation's first charter, these dead white guys on your money set in motion a dynamic that would, in time, destroy their own privilege. And they knew that's what they were doing.

Though the Founders were united in their determination for independence, that was about all that united them. They were a volatile lot, those Founders. They all nursed their resentments of each other. Hamilton and Jefferson detested each other. The priggish Adams looked down on the licentious Ben Franklin. They were not diverse in a demographic sense, but as personalities and ideologues, they were as different as they could be. They brawled and argued and pursued political dirty tricks against each other with zest. They were bound by their American-ness, and almost nothing more.

That presents the rest of us with a pretty good model on how to live together, don't you think? We too often lament how divided this country is, but the Founders showed us the paradoxical nature of a functioning democracy, united and divided at the same time.

Good advice, don't you think, B?

You and I, we reject these narrow attitudes

We add to each other, like a coral reef

Building bridges on the ocean floor

Reaching for the alien shore

For you and me -- We hold these truths to be self-evident

For you and me -- We'd elect each other president

For you and me -- We might agree

But that's just us

Reaching for the alien shore…

Just wanted to leave you with a little Rush ditty written by Neil. You'll understand the importance of that influence soon enough!

Love you,

Daddy K