Showing posts with label safety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label safety. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 12, 2025

An American Values Revival

Even after the largest peaceful protests to date in America (the No Kings protests), which were all about protecting our individual rights, saving our democratic republic, and so much more, my wife and I have never been more unsettled about living in this country. This because the party in power openly and unapologetically practices grift, greed, extortion, discrimination, deceit, retribution, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, harassment, and assault. Not to mention authoritarianism. 

American values have taken a dystopian turn for the worst for many across the political spectrum. Except those who openly and unapologetically support them all, whether they benefit from any of it or not. And it's clear that only a very small percentage of them (the wealthy) benefit. 

We're not only unsettled, we're scared for families everywhere. Scared because of the increased violent rhetoric and literal physical violence from both sides of the political and ideological spectrum happening throughout our country. 

To be clear, we're a privileged white family that has never been profiled, targeted, or forcibly removed from the very streets we assumed were always (mostly) safe. However, that's not exactly true anymore since this country has again become more dangerous for women and the LGBTQIA+ community in the past 10+ years. And that impacts our family directly, my wife and our daughters. (Thank you goodness that the Supreme Court rejected a long-shot effort to overturn same-sex marriage ruling.)

Just check out the recent article titled America Is an Increasingly Dangerous Place for Women and Girls by Carrie N. Baker, J.D., Ph.D., who is the Sylvia Dlugasch Bauman professor of American Studies and the chair of the Program for the Study of Women and Gender at Smith College.

Here are some excerpts:

Approximately 41 percent of women in the U.S. have experienced sexual violence, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Everytown Research and Policy reports, “Guns amplify the inherent power and control dynamics characteristic of abusive intimate relationships, whether as lethal weapons to injure and kill or as a tool to inflict emotional abuse without ever firing a bullet.”

One in five women will be raped in their lifetime. One in four girls is sexually abused before age 18, with more than one third abused by family members. 

Male-dominated legislatures in 18 states have passed abortion bans that endanger women’s lives. In states banning abortion, intimate partner violence has risen across the board, with the sharpest increases among women ages 25 to 34. 

I'm sure there are those who feel we're overreacting. Maybe we can undo some of the anti-democratic damage already done. Maybe this is just another ideological swing within a history of swinging in this grand old democratic republic of ours. Maybe we can prevent the final fall into third-world civil war oblivion. But a double-downed patriarchy combined with no moral compass combined with too much crazy and too many guns equals more violence to come. 

Unfortunately, this is where we're at today in America. It's become more unstable and dangerous for too many individuals and families. For females especially. For LGBTQIA+. For Black and Brown people. For the working class. For the middle class. For everyone. 

My wife reminds me to not fall into "otherisms", though. To not generalize about people we don't agree with. To not make it about us versus them; we good, they bad. But when I think about the dystopian turn we've taken, where again grift, greed, extortion, discrimination, deceit, retribution, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, harassment, and assault are the values of the powerful few and their followers -- my skin crawls to think this is America today. 

However, we do still believe in the American values of individuality, personal responsibility, community, opportunity, freedom, and liberty, and that they are inextricably linked to love, empathy, compassion, truth, humility, inclusion, and integrity. These are also foundational for safety and wellbeing. Our daughters need an American values revival and that's what we intend to give them. 

Sunday, June 4, 2023

Endless Possibilities Actually

"Dad, those people are pointing at our car."

A car passed us and I could see some kids pointing at us. Right after our oldest Beatrice said that, a trucker passed us and honked. Then I saw the smoke. White smoke that billowed out from the front of our Santa Fe Hyundai. 

"Shit," I said. "We've got to pull over." I aways cuss a lot when I'm stressed out. 

It was Memorial Day weekend and we were less than two miles from our final exit and less than four miles from our final destination at the KOA campground in Visalia. My wife Amy and I had no idea what was wrong with our car, but I knew that we all needed to get out of it in case it caught fire. 

"Everybody get out of the car," I said, waving the family out. "Fuck," I then said under my breath. 

Once outside of the car, Amy said we should unhook our trailer camper in case there was a fire. Seconds passed that felt like hours. I called my sister, who we were going to see, and then I called for roadside assistance. Cars and trucks blurred past us on the highway. We told our kids to stay away from the highway and hold our dog Jenny. 

Twenty minutes later, as we waited to hear back about the roadside assistance, the white smoke finally subsided. Thankfully there was no car fire. We had put our dog back in the car so she wouldn't get more stressed and try to get away. 

"We have to get to the campsite," Amy said. I agreed and knew it would be a risk to drive again, but that's what we did. I started the Hyundai, pushed the flashing hazard lights button, waited for an opening in the highway, and pulled out. I drove white-knuckled all the way to the campground. We made it there without anymore white smoke, but the engine light did come on. Two weeks before all this we had just had the car serviced. Nothing was wrong then, although they did overfill our oil and not tighten our oil filter all the way, which was something we had to deal with before this trip. We didn't realize then how much foreshadowing that was. 

Of course it was Memorial Day weekend, so by the time we got to the campground, the Hyundai Dealer in town was already closed. We set up camp and my sister came and got us and took us back to her house for dinner. After that, she let us use one of her cars, which was actually my parents car before they had both passed away.

The next day a dear old high school friend who was a mechanic came out to take a look at my car and verified that transmission fluid was leaking from the car and that's what had sprayed onto the engine and smoked. We took our Santa Fe to a local lube and oil place and they ran a diagnostic that confirmed why the engine light went on: the might be an issue with the torque converter in the automatic transmission. And yes, the transmission fluid had leaked out. 

"Shit."

The service center at the Hyundai dealer in town wouldn't be open again until the Tuesday after Memorial Day, so we had to strategize on what to do next. The plan had always been to go home on Memorial Day Monday because we had to get back to work and our kids had appointments. But it was still only Sunday, and Amy and our daughters attended my niece's bridal shower while I hung out with Jenny and worked and wrote. After that, we hung out again at my sister's. 

We still had a nice visit overall, but the whole time I kept worrying about what was wrong with our car and what we were going to have to do about it. 

[More cussing in my head.]

But then my old friend had offered to tow our trailer camper back home and my sister offered to let us use the same car so Amy and our kids could get home. That's what we did on Memorial Day: my family made it home safely and I rode eight hours with my friend to drop off our trailer in Santa Cruz and return to Visalia. We were so grateful to my friend and my sister for all their help. 

What happened when I took our Santa Fe to the local dealer service the next day was completely anti-climatic to how the whole holiday weekend started. In the end, there was nothing wrong with our transmission or anything else. During our last car service back home just two weeks earlier, they had overfilled our transmission fluid by over two quarts. They had also overfilled our oil and not fully tightened the oil filter, which we already knew about. We'd been taking our car to that Hyundai dealer service for seven years and nothing like this had ever happened, until now. 

Two days after Amy and our girls went home, Amy drove my sister's care back to Visalia and we returned home in our car. The universe realigned.

When life goes sideways (in this case with car trouble), our first rule is always safety first for the family. Everything else is just time and money and transitory pains in the asses that will not always be recoverable, but because we're still here living and breathing, there's always the possibility of recovery. Endless possibilities actually. 

That's why the second rule is, we make the most of our moments, wherever they are and however they are. Stewing in uncertainty results in angst-filled inaction, which I'm certainly still guilty of, but endless possibilities make all the difference in the end. Reconnecting with an old friend and spending more time with my sister were moments I wouldn't have had otherwise. Again, we're so grateful for their help.

Sunday, January 29, 2023

For Us And For Them

It was the pickaxe over his shoulder that bothered me. He stood shirtless in faded jeans near the railroad tracks with his back to my wife Amy and I as we walked our dog Jenny on the other side of the tracks. There were mirrored tattoos below each shoulder blade that looked like wings, but I wasn't sure because my eyes kept going back to the pickaxe.

We were on one of our usual walks where we take Jenny not too far from where we live. Jenny was oblivious to the man standing there, and if Amy noticed him, she didn't say anything at first. He faced a vacant lot where there was a makeshift wooden shelter semi-covered with palm fronds, which I assumed was his. The camp had been there for a few months already. Nearby are various businesses and a combined middle and high school (not where our kids go). 

The shirtless man with the pickaxe moved and headed toward his encampment. As he moved, I heard him say:

"These children with wicked tongues..."

And then it trailed off. I heard him say the first part again and then we were moving away from him as we walked our dog.

I asked Amy if she heard what he said and she did. There were teens everywhere being picked up along the street in front of the vacant lot, and it made us both very uncomfortable. I told her I should call the police department. Not 911, because there was no emergency; he didn't threaten anyone as he walked back to his camp. I called the non-emergency line to ask for a mental health check. They said they'd send an officer to check it out and would call me back.

According to the 2022 Homeless Point-in-Time (PIT) Count in Santa Cruz, there was a 6% increase in the number of people living unhoused in Santa Cruz County since 2019. The survey data indicated dramatic changes in health outcomes compared to those reported in 2019. For example, numbers of people self-reporting alcohol and drug use increased from 30% to 67%; reports of physical disability increased from 26% to 57%; and reports of chronic health conditions increased from 21% to 49%. These are quite dramatic increases since before the pandemic. 

Plus, nearly 40% of people experiencing homelessness self-reported psychiatric or emotional problems. The key here being self-reported (imagine how many of us in homes suffer from increasing psychiatric or emotional problems who aren't self-reporting). And maybe the shirtless man with the pickaxe wasn't really a safety problem for us and the teens getting out of school that day. The fact is we didn't know. 

When the officer called me back later that day, he asked me again to share with him what happened. Then he told me he'd check it out (although I thought he would've already done that), but there wasn't much he could do since it was private property, unless the man exhibited being a threat to himself and/or others, which he didn't when we saw him. I thanked the officer and still worried about what if -- the homeless camp is still there housing the man with the pickaxe who said out loud "these children with wicked tongues" while dozens of teens were getting picked up from school.

We've always supported allocating more resources to house and heal those who need help. We're also seeing more people breaking down everywhere resulting in senseless violence. We certainly don't want to live in fear, which is why being safe is so important to our family, and why I called for a mental health check on the homeless man. Too many times people won't call because it's inconvenient and they feel like there's always somebody else around who will (i.e., the bystander effect). 

We just can't do that. Amy and I are all about Kidpower's founding principle: Our safety and well-being of ourselves and those in our care are more important than anyone's embarrassment, inconvenience, or offense. That includes our own. This is something we live by every day, because our ultimate safety is for us and for them.

Sunday, December 11, 2022

The Ride Home

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

"No, I'm going first!"

"No, I am!"

"Dad, who gets to go first?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, November 13, 2022

Our Family Safety Zen

The last thing I should've done was to get in their faces, but that's exactly the first thing I did. The reaction was swift and effortless, as if my hand was already ready to flip the switch when provoked.

"Dad, that boy just poked me and laughed at me," our oldest daughter Beatrice said to me. "He's bullying me and I'm not comfortable and want to go."

She definitely looked uncomfortable and that was all the provoking I needed. I turned and faced the two teen boys and took a step toward them. Both wore baseball caps and one wore sunglasses.

"Leave my daughters alone," I said.

They instantly read my look and tone and both of them tensed. The one without sunglasses took a half step back. They were big kids, but I was a bigger adult.

"What do you mean?" the one without sunglasses said defensively.

"Your daughters?" the one wearing sunglasses said. "We didn't do anything."

I wasn't sure if he was making fun of us or me, but it didn't matter. Thankfully, they didn't say another word. 

"Leave them alone," I simply said again. I could feel my anger seething. 

I turned around to check on Beatrice and her sister Bryce. Beatrice was uncomfortable but Bryce seemed fine.

"We're going to go back to the car," Beatrice said. 

"That's fine," I said. "Or, you can wait here with me until I get our food and we can go back together."

"I'm fine, Dad," Bryce said. Beatrice didn't say anything. "I saw him bug Beatrice but he didn't bug me."

The two teen boys at this point were ordering some food of their own and then they sat at a table away from us. I don't remember them looking our way again or saying another word.

We had been on our way to go camping for the weekend and stopped to get food and gas. My wife stayed with our car and camper, and dog Jenny, and me and the girls went to McDonald's. As soon as we walked in the door I saw the two teen boys teasing each other and screwing around with the touch screen ordering system. A mountain bike lay on the floor near the bathrooms and I assumed it was theirs. The girls and I went ahead and ordered on the other side of the touchscreen system from where the teens were.

I was already on edge because of what had happened just prior to going to McDonald's, I was the one watching the car, camper, and our dog. Amy and the girls had gone to cookie store to get some treats. We were parked in a shopping center parking lot parallel to the main road, and coming up the sidewalk was a man pushing a shopping cart full of what I assumed where his belongings. In front of where we were parked was the shopping center security guard sitting in his car. As soon as the shopping cart man got close, he immediately pulled out his phone and start filming and cursing at the security guard. The security guard got out of his vehicle and confronted the filming man, which just made him angrier and he cursed continuously accusing the security guard of following him. 

I definitely felt like mental illness was in play here, and these days you just don't know who may pull out a knife or a gun, so I readied myself to roll up the windows and lock the doors. I had no where to go otherwise. The shopping cart man continued his way up the sidewalk past where we were parked. I told myself not to look him in the eyes, but I did, and thankfully he just glanced at me and then kept pushing his cart down the sidewalk. 

After the confrontation with the teen boys in McDonald's, we got our food and walked back to where we parked. Beatrice felt better because we left and Bryce kept saying the boys hadn't bothered her. I told Amy about what had happened and that I knew that I overreacted. Of course there's nothing wrong with protecting our children if they feel unsafe, but I did get too verbally aggressive with the teen boys. And, I didn't give Beatrice a chance to use her own Kidpower and tell the boys to stop herself.  

Again, nothing else happened and we went on our way down the highway to the campground. But from the shopping cart man to the teen boys, I felt rattled and angry, and instead, needed to channel our family safety Zen. The camping eventually did the trick. 

Then came the flat tire, which is another story for another time...

Sunday, May 22, 2022

Coronavirus Sucks, But We Don't Have To

I was at the airport ready to fly home from a speaking engagement when my wife Amy called. She was clearly upset, which isn't common for her, and what I heard her tell me was "she can't go." I had no idea what she was talking about, until she mentioned our youngest daughter Bryce. Then it became painfully clear.

Bryce had looked forward to 5th grade science camp for weeks, something that hadn't happened for three years since the pandemic started (something her big sister had to miss because of covid). Bryce had been slightly apprehensive about going, but more excited overall to experience it with her friends. Two days before science camp, the 5th graders were tested for COVID-19, and Bryce was negative.

But the morning she went to school to join her classmates on the bus to go to camp, her and a few others tested positive. At that moment, she could no longer go to science camp. It crushed her, and then it crushed Amy who had to go pick her up, and then it crushed me.

While I waited for my plane to board, I fumed about the situation and my heart ached for Bryce. Someone in line next to me started griping about having to wear masks at another airport, while the one we were in didn't require it any longer, or the airlines. Another person joined in on the griping and then they both went on yet another personal freedom diatribe that I've become so sick of -- I just wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. 

And then I wanted to tell them that over 1 million people in the U.S. had already died from covid or covid-related complications. I wanted to tell them that over 6 million have died globally. I wanted to tell them that millions are experiencing "long covid" with a myriad of debilitating and science-stumping respiratory symptoms. Instead, I just stared straight ahead and boarded the plane. We may all want covid to go away, but it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

I was obviously angry and sad for my daughter. All I could think about on the short flight home was the fact that I wasn't there to help them in that moment. I got there soon enough though and gave Bryce a big supportive hug and told her I loved her, that it wasn't her fault she got covid. We've been instilling resilience in both our daughters, and while Bryce was disappointed in missing science camp (and a whole other week of school, another fun event, all at the end of her 5th grade year), she dealt with it better than we thought. Better than me, that's for sure. Fortunately her symptoms were brief. 

After Bryce caught covid, I got it too, even after all this time of being double vaxxed and boosted. We all spent nearly two weeks masked and isolated from each other as much as possible. However, like most viruses, SARS-CoV-2 (which causes the infectious disease known as coronavirus or COVID-19) only wants to infect its hosts, evolve, and thrive; it doesn't care about anything or anyone else they infect or those it makes sick or kills. It doesn't care about vaccinations, or antivirals, or masks, or other healthcare safety measures put into place. It doesn't care about covid deniers or anti-mask advocates (although I'll bet it thanks them in its own surly viral way). 

It doesn't care how disruptive it's been to families and communities around the world. It doesn't care that it stopped our Bryce from going to science camp and missing another fun class event in her last year of grade school. But no matter what, we're thankfully still a resilient, mostly healthy, loving, and grateful family, so blessings for that. Coronavirus sucks, but we don't have to. 

Sunday, March 13, 2022

That's The Air That I Breathe

"Peace came upon me
And it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel
Go to sleep..."

—The Hollies, The Air That I Breathe

In the end, he befriended Godzilla, and then Kong got to go home again to the center of the earth. The song “The Air That I Breathe” by the Hollies played while the credits kicked in. 

And I cried a little. Yep, that’s me. 

I was flying home from a work event. My initial flight was canceled due to weather, and thankfully they rebooked me straight through to San Jose, but not without zig-zag stops along the way. At least I didn’t have to change planes. 

So, I decided to watch something light. Being a Saturday, I reviewed the flight movies and decided to on a little Saturday afternoon monster movie matinee. Just like I used to do a home as a kid. I chose the recent Godzilla vs. Kong for some mindless fun, after already seeing the preceding series of movies that led to this ultimate monster battle.

I actually cried two times during the movie. Once when Kong had learned sign language and signed that he wanted to go home, and again at the end when he finally got to go home and be at peace. 

For those who know me, I’m a crier. I cry about anything that moves me, no matter how cheesy the movie. In fact, anytime we watch a show or movie at home together, my oldest Beatrice looks over at me and asks, “Are you crying, Dad?”

And most of the time, I am.

But this time it was more about The Hollies' song than the movie. The song became a rushing river that dislodged old memories from my memory banks and moved them quickly along frothing eddies and treacherous currents. It’s one of many songs that have haunted me since I was little. And although the song is literally about romantic love, I didn't understand that as a child, and so I associated it with everything going on around meany love and lack thereof. How it made me feel growing up with domestic violence and abusesimultaneously scared, sad, lonely, hopeful, and longing to be happy. Of other life events over the years that kept me bobbing in and out of the emotional rushing river. Of how I feel sometimes today missing my family when I travel. 

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you…

The rushing river slows and smooths out to still glass, and all the memories resettle. Again, I’m on my way home from another work trip, only one of a few since the pandemic started. I’m grateful for the work I do, and the work Amy does, and the fact that we can provide for our family. I like the travel and that I can get out there again, to see industry friends, to learn new things and grow professionally and personally. 

After mindlessly watching Kong and Godzilla fight and destroy cities on my plane ride home, I caught up with one of my news shows. The depressing stream of news, like The Hollies' song, got me thinking again about when I was little, and other times throughout my life, and the fact that we don't always choose the air that we breathedeadly viruses, pollution, toxic relationships, violence, war. 

More than 2.5 million Ukrainian refugees have fled their country looking for safety. I can't imagine, do not want to imagine, what that's been like for those families. Especially those who have to separate for who knows how long, or worse, for those who've been injured or killed. 

I just cannot imagine it, and yet, we continue to watch it in real time. I miss Amy and our daughters terribly when I’m away, even if it’s for only a couple of nights, especially after being together so much during the pandemic. But to be separated because of a war? No way. That thought brought even more tears than Kong (and me) wanting to go home did.

The night before I came home from this trip, I had a video call with my family, and our youngest Bryce kept messing with the FaceTime filters, which I didn’t even know you could do. 

“You goofs. I love you,” I said.

Then I thought, That’s the air that I breathe. That’s all that I need.

"So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep..."

How you can help the people of Ukraine

Sunday, March 6, 2022

Reusing the Usable

As I approached the tipped over chair, now covered in broken Cheez-Its, I realized that there was something else in it. Something wrapped in a blanket. Something small, like an animal. Or a child. Something I thought was dead.

That was my first thought because it didn't move. I touched the chair to shake it a bit, and that's when the wrapped up thing breathed. 

I jumped away and backed into the street. I thought to myself, What the hell is this? A child sleeping in our old chair?

Then it breathed again. I didn't know if I should try to wake up whoever it was or not; it could be a safety problem for me. So, I walked back across our street and into our house. I also had a work call in only a few minutes and wasn't sure what to do, but I knew we needed to call the police. I asked my wife Amy to call and she did. She'd also be leaving soon to take our daughters to school and we had know idea who was sleeping outside in our old chair that was scheduled to be picked up by our city's garbage service. 

I went into my office and had my call. Once Amy returned from dropping off the girls, she told me that she'd gone back outside after calling the police and talked to one of our neighbors about the whoever it was sleeping in our old chair. 

That's when the woman woke up and uncovered herself. She got up and brushed the Cheez-Its off herself and the chair. She then told my wife something about wanting our old chair for her apartment, and then she got tired, curled up in it, and fell asleep. Amy had seen her before around town; she was most likely experiencing homelessness. Maybe there was addiction and/or mental health issues; we just don't know. She took off down the street not wanting to deal with the cops, though. A few minutes later the police drove by our house slowly and our old chair but didn't stop. 

The Day Before

We had put our old burgundy cuddle chair across the street the night before like the city asked us to do. But because we placed it on the property in front of us, and not directly on the street, they would take it. It's one of those situations where you think, But it's still right there. Why didn't you just take it? 

Ugh. It would have to stay outside on the street one more night. Which was a bummer because we'd have to look at it again outside for one more night. Although the recliner part of the cuddle chair had been broken for years, we still used it in our living room, in no rush to replace it. We loved that chair and had purchased it about five years before we had our oldest daughter. It went from our apartment to our first home together, with lots of family pictures in it over the years.

But it was time to go because Amy found a free street loveseat. Amy loves finding free stuff on the street. If there's stuff on the street with a free sign on it, Amy wants to check it out. And if she doesn't check it out the first time she sees it, she'll double back to check it all out. The girls and I always tease her about it, and the girls also plead for her not to take free street stuff. There are bowls and plates she's found and the girls won't use no matter how many times we've washed them. Amy's motto is reduce, reuse, recycle. I know my grandpa would've been proud. He always prided himself in reusing the usable. 

That's why when the girls got home at the end of the day to find a new (used) recliner loveseat showered in Febreze freshener siting in the place where our cuddle chair used to be, and after they heard the story, they looked at me and said, "Dad, why did you let Mom get a street couch?"

"It's in great shape, girls. It really is," I said.

"But it smells," they said.

"No, it's just a little musty. It'll smell like us soon. We'll be on it. Jenny will be on it. Don't worry, it's really a nice recliner loveseat," Amy said.

The girls frowned. "No more street stuff, Mom."

But we were already using it. Our dog Jenny was already sleeping on it (although she hacked a few times the first time because of the Febreze). Just like it had always been there in our house. Like it was meant to be. 

The Day Before That

I had a busy day ahead with staff calls and work planning, and the last thing I wanted was a monkey wrench tossed my way to sabotage my day. When Amy got home from dropping the girls off at school, she was excited about something.

"There's a free loveseat that's perfect for our house!" 

She told me the story of driving by it, almost saying no way, and then circling back to check it out. 

"It's really in great shape and the both recliners work," she said.

It was in front of a house that was for sale. She wasn't sure if it was from the house, but mostly like it was. 

"We should go get it," she said. 

Now, I've never been a very spontaneous person throughout my life, although that's changed a lot since I've been with Amy and we've had kids. But my old resistance response of no was exactly what I did. 

"No, I just have too busy of a day today," I said.

"Okay, we can just look at it tomorrow maybe," she said, with a subtle hint of disappointment. 

I wasn't necessarily resistant to the idea of a free couch that was in good shape, but it was the time involved of going to see it, trying to get it home, etc., that was the monkey wrench throwing me. My day was busy and I just didn't want any unplanned pivoting to happen. 

But pivot I did. We were thinking of buy a new cuddle chair soon anyway and I know Amy was thinking about saving a thousand bucks, which I liked, so I made room in my schedule and we went to look at it. 

I agreed it was in good shape, but it was heavy and I didn't think it would fit in our SUV. We got it halfway into the car, but that's as far as it would go. We were less than two miles from home and she convinced me it was wedged enough for her to sit behind it and hold it while I drove us home. 

And that's exactly what we did. We got it home and into the garage safely. Later when my neighbors were home I asked for their help and we moved the old cuddle chair out to the street and the put the found loveseat in its place. 

I'm sitting on the new (old) loveseat now as I write this, our dog Jenny sleeping next to me on one of the old crocheted blankets my grandmother made so long ago. But this story is more than just finding this free piece of furniture we were looking to buy and how that all worked out for us. 

No, if Amy hadn't circled back to check out the free loveseat; if I hadn't changed my mind to go look at it with her; if we hadn't driven it home hanging halfway out of our car; if our neighbors weren't available to help me move both cuddle chair and loveseat; if the city had actually picked up our old memory-filled cuddle chair off the street the first night we put it outside -- then it wouldn't have given that homeless woman a few hours of somewhat safe sleeping the second night it was outside. 

Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe not. Whatever it was, reusing the usable was meant to be. 

Sunday, November 28, 2021

The Positive Spread

Our first-born loved dandelions. When she was nearly two years old she loved to pick them and run with them and blow the parachuting seeds into the wind and watch them float away. She'd giggle and do it again and again until the dandelions were all gone. 

When I think about those seeds now, and how many took root where they landed for other children to pick them and blow the seeds away, I think about both our daughters and how they've taken root and grown into positive, loving, empathic, and resilient little humans. 

Our children have become what I'll call the positive spread -- sharing freely a part of their empowered positive souls wherever they go and with whoever they meet. Something it took me decades to be comfortable with. Something I still work on every day. Something we should all work on every day.

Now a tween and a teen, both of our children have grown up with positive discipline and Kidpower. They've learned a lot about natural consequences of their actions; about being calm, confident and aware wherever they go -- to be able to set healthy boundaries and always be emotionally and physically safe while inspiring others in kind. It doesn't mean they always like it when we reference these life skills they've grown up with, but even when they push back on their influence, they embody them each and every day.

I thought I was done with writing in this space, of sharing my family's journey and my own thoughts and feelings about parenting and personal leadership, and I thanked you all for reading

But I'm not done. Life is a work in progress and the past two months have been a deep reflection for me of what I thought I'd let go of, but instead what I've held onto. I allowed resentment and anger to reboot inside me after decades of damaged trust with myself and others I thought I had reconciled, but instead, only shuffled around inside my always hopeful heart. 

A heart full of love and optimism ever since I had picked dandelions as a child and blew seeds of hope into the wind. 

We all deserve to be loved and to be safe, and to be given the chance to learn and practice the skills that make it all reciprocally so. This is why I'm rebooting this blog to continue the positive spread that my children and my wife embody every day. I am so grateful for them. 

Blessings to you all. 


Protect kids from harm this #GivingTuesday and donate to Kidpower!

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Sunday, September 19, 2021

Thank You For Reading

"I don't regret it  I'll never forget it
I wouldn't trade tomorrow for today..."


When I first jumped into social media in 2007, I joined Myspace. Within 30 minutes of setting up my profile, I was "propositioned." 

That was almost the end right at the beginning. I didn't stay on Myspace, but I did get convinced by old high school friends to give Facebook a try. That was December of 2007, nearly 14 years ago. That was also the year I launched this blog, Get Off The Ground, a year before our first daughter Beatrice was born. 

I had already been on the professional network LinkedIn since January 2005, connecting with others in my industry sharing work-related content. That hasn't really changed since, although unfortunately some LinkedIn users have taken a toxic turn of sharing the same toxic crap we see on Facebook and Twitter (which I had joined in May of 2008). 

Social media has been valuable for many to share positive stories and to inspire others around the world. It's helped family and friends stay in touch with photos and videos. It's also been used to market products and services across industries, as well as to promote jobs and and employer brands (the HR and recruiting space I'm in). 

It also divides and destroys. It fueled COVID-19 and vaccination information, and still does. It fueled election lies and the insurrection on January 6, and still does. It fueled racial hate, and still does. For both adults and teens, bullying also thrives on social media.

You may have watched The Social Dilemma, the documentary from early 2020 that shares the dangerous and addictive destruction that social media has unleashed.

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

Because our girls are practically teens now, I want to be more attentive to what I share on social channels. It's usually always positive, what I write and the pictures I share, but now it's time to close this Get Off The Ground chapter and start a new one elsewhere. I will also continue to limit my personal time on the social media, as I've been doing for weeks now, except when it's work-related, or when I'm promoting safety skills with Kidpower

Our daughters know that they can come to us any time they see offensive or disturbing stuff online (they play Roblox primarily and watch TikTok and YouTube shows they like). While we'll hold off as long as we can from them having their own social media accounts, we'll want them to be responsible, safe and empathetic when we do so. Just like they are now, and just like we're practicing as adults now, finally, after all these years. 

From my first post on Get Off The Ground to this last post (for now), I've enjoyed sharing my parenting and personal leadership journey with you all.  I'm certainly no expert. I'm just trying to navigate it all like you are. I wouldn't change a thing; I would never trade tomorrow for today. Thank you for reading.

Be safe and well. Blessings to you all. 

Sunday, September 12, 2021

In Balanced Measure

I felt horrible that day. My asthma was killing me and it literally felt that way. The math problems in front of me blurred and shifted on the pages. Every moment felt like forever; each problem I solved felt like forever.

Somehow I made it through the day and still helped our 7th grade math team do very well in the local competition. 

I was a super shy kid in grade school and early junior high with severe allergies and asthma that continued until high school, but I still participated in organized academic and sports activities. I'm so glad I did. I have so many fond memories of these activities over the years, so many friends I made, so many things learned. Memories that continued to be made through college. The social interactions and experiences were invaluable. 

However, my wife Amy and I didn't have to grow up in a pandemic that affected every facet of our lives, and continues to do so. One that has infected over 225 million people and killed nearly 5 million globally. We had the AIDS crisis growing up, which was horrible, but it didn't effect us or our families directly (that I'm aware of). There have been different strains of flu and the H1N1 virus since, but nothing like what we're dealing with in COVID-19. 

2020 sucked. Many of us will probably agree on that one. Sheltering at home, distance learning, social distancing (or not), wearing masks (or not), hospitalizations and deaths. Limited or no extracurricular  activities for our kids. Divisive polarization in nearly every community on every issue, especially COVID-19. 

Finally vaccinations are here! Infection rates are lower! Woo-hoo! The rest of 2021 is gonna rock!

Nope. But at least our daughters are back to in-person school, and are able to participate in school and other activities with their friends. Where we live, if there's a positive covid case in one of their classrooms, then they'll have to forgo activities for 8-10 days, but at least it's not forever, like it felt in 2020. 

Nope, it won't be forever. It still sucks, but not forever. Our youngest Bryce will hopefully be vaccinated before the end of the year, and until then, she'll play soccer. I'm coaching her team and her sister Beatrice is my assistant coach -- we're the Flamingos! Bryce will also play percussion in the school band (my drumming girl!), Bea is a junior guide for an outdoor after-school program, and both are getting involved in clubs and other school activities. They love being in school again with their friends and we want to keep them there. Of course, all of this activity will be in balanced measure with family time and staying healthy and safe. Amen.

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Just Another Part That Pierces My Heart

Within a few days, it was infected. I remember it well, because at first it became inflamed and itchy. Then came the gross discharge; obviously I didn't take care of it at first. After it got infected, I had to keep cleaning it every day with hydrogen peroxide while keeping it bandaged for nearly the first month until it finally healed up. After that, I only really kept it in for about one year. 

So much for my fashion fad of wearing an earring.  When I told Beatrice I had an earring years before I met her mom, she wanted to know more. She wasn't the one interested in getting earrings, though. Her younger sister, Bryce, was. 

Beatrice had run an errand with me one night after dinner and that's when we got to talking about it. Bryce was all ready to get her earrings on her birthday, and so I told Bea about my experience. She told me she would probably never have earrings, and not just because of my story. 

Bryce definitely wanted them for her 11th birthday, though, and my wife Amy and I agreed to it. The plan was to go to Claire's in the mall to get them pierced. Claire's is a jewelry & accessories store for girls, teens and tweens that also does ear piercings onsite. And that's actually where I had my done in my late twenties. No judgement, please. The earring looked cool once the ear healed up. 

Months earlier, though, Amy and another friend of ours were talking about buying piercing kits and doing our daughters' piercings together at home, which didn't happen. Visions of using ice cubes to numb the lobes and then using sewing needles to puncture the ears came to mind for me. That's not how it's done anymore at home (I hope), but I definitely wasn't supportive of the home direction either way. I teased Amy about this, telling her she wasn't certified to pierce ears. She countered by asking how do we know those people in the mall were? 

We didn't, but I thought they had to be somehow, right? I mean, they've pierced millions of ears over the years without litigious problems that I'm aware of, so there has to be some level of training and safety. After Bryce's ears were pierced, not before, I went to Claire's website to check. According to their website, their associates are trained in local piercing policy, practice and procedures in order to deliver clean, hygienic and safe piercing environments. It went on in more detail about their training process as well. That made me feel better. 

When we went to Claire's to get Bryce's ears pierced, all went well. Bryce was nervous, but only felt a quick pinch when the piercing device made the hole and inserted the earring on each ear with one clean action. The piercer had a wiggle a bit on one ear, like the piercing device was stuck, but then it came out clean. Both ears now had lovely 14K gold peridot August birthstone stud earrings inserted, which weren't cheap. The piercing was free with the purchase of earrings, of course. You pay for it in the marked up earrings. Although when I checked online later, these earrings can run a lot more than even we paid. 

"I could've bought a home kit for 10 bucks. C'mon," Amy said as we left the mall.

"Again, you're not a certified ear piercer," I said.

"Again, how do we know she was?"

"Fair point." 

Again, I did check the website after we got home and their piercers are trained and seemingly certified, in a sense. Good to know. Now, to keep her ear lobes clean so she doesn't have to bandage them up like mine had to be. But in fact, the bigger deal is the fact that both of our girls are growing up, and are now a tween and a teen; just another part that pierces my heart. Sigh. 

Sunday, June 20, 2021

Always Safety First

I pushed back on the face shields. I didn't want our daughters to have to wear them while we were traveling during our summer road trip. My wife Amy had been given a pair of face shields prior to us leaving, and they were to be worn if we were eating inside a crowded restaurant. 

Again, I didn't want them to have to wear them; we were already having them wear face masks inside everywhere we went. I struggled with stigma over safety. I worried about being confronted in public, our children shamed, us as parents shamed, and me shouting back in anger. I was caught up in the fear of the political and irrational fringe that refuses to wear any masks and to not be vaccinated. 

Amy reminded me of what I already knew and agreed with -- safety first. Always safety first, regardless of anyone's feelings, even my own. We all still wore our face masks in many places indoors during our vacation due to COVID-19, mostly in solidarity with our daughters, with only our oldest Beatrice being half-vaccinated. Our youngest Bryce won't be able to be vaccinated until it's approved for children under 12. The good news was that many other families wore their masks inside as well while we traveled (and not always required indoors depending on where we were). 

Amy and I are always grounded in the best science of our time, and this time was no exception. According the the CDC, fewer children have been sick with COVID-19 compared to adults, children can be infected with the virus that causes COVID-19, can get sick from COVID-19, and can spread the virus that causes COVID-19 to others. Children, like adults, who have COVID-19 but have no symptoms (“asymptomatic”) can still spread the virus to others.

And that was the key -- can still spread the virus to others. Amy and I could still get sick being vaccinated. The probability was much lower, but it could happen. And anyone else we were around. With the Delta variant on the rise, a variant that spreads much faster than the first coronavirus, that's a reality we cannot deny.

Over 33 million people infected to date in the U.S., and over 600,000 people have died (most likely underreported). Covid still rages in places all over the world; nearly 4 million have died globally. Comparably, only 290,000 to 650,000 people die of flu-related causes every year worldwide. Also, only 45% of the total U.S. population is fully vaccinated against COVID-19. 53% have had at least one shot. We're still a ways from hitting 70% vaccinated rates, when we can truly move safely beyond the pandemic. It's pretty amazing when you think about it how fast these vaccines were developed, tested and distributed during a worldwide pandemic. 

So, there we were in a very crowded restaurant in Las Vegas, and when the food came, we had the girls wear the face shields. And no one gave us a second look, even with Beatrice getting food all over the inside of her shield (Bryce did not). No shaming or shaking of heads. Most of the time afterwards we either ate outside or were in less populated restaurants (or ate at our camper), but we still wore our face masks when required or needed. 

Now that we're back home we're very happy that our state has opened up, that Beatrice got her second dose, and that eventually Bryce will get vaccinated. I no longer struggle with safety stigma, and am sorry I did in the first place when we were on vacation. 

Unfortunately, too many people are still refusing to get vaccinated, and to wear masks if they're not, and many of those people are men, men who are fathers and grandfathers. I can't control the mass misinformation and conspiracy theories that continue to dissuade men from getting vaccinated, no matter how much free money, food and beer are being offered to them. I can only implore fathers everywhere to make safety a priority for their families and communities. Always safety first.

Happy Father's Day.

Saturday, March 27, 2021

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. 

Sunday, February 28, 2021

A Wonderful Thing To Witness

The ripped chip bag rested peacefully on the kitchen counter. Although its usefulness had come to an end, and the remaining potato chips now sat safely in a resealable bag, its demise was a violent one. There wasn't just one random rip down the side of the bag -- there were multiple shreds -- as if ripped apart by sharp talons of a hungry animal. 

"Beatrice, let me show you again how to open up the chip bags," I said to our oldest daughter. 

"It's really hard to open!" Bea exclaimed.

And so it goes. Not only about opening up chip and cereal bags, but also resealing them with clips. 

"Girls, let me show you again how to clip the bags shut," I said to both our girls, holding up a bag of cereal and a clip. "Fold the open end a couple of times and then clip it, like this. That way the stuff inside stays fresh."

"Okay, Dad. We'll do it," they both said.

Which then they don't, half-sealing or leaving open on the table. And so it goes. We keep practicing Positive Discipline, though, and now that our children are flying headlong into teenage-land, there will be constant reminders like these. Over and over and over again. 

The good news is that for the past few years they've received an allowance for doing specific chores each week around the house. And those things they do, with the occasional reminder or two. Sometimes with a serving or two of teen sass as well. 

We're okay with that because we're eons from the days of wiping buts and noses. We do miss those days of their childhood (but not really the wiping buts part), especially when our phones pop up photo memories from years past. But mercy me -- Beatrice is cooking now! And both our daughters are transforming into responsible and accountable human beings, finding their individuality and independence with eyes of love and empathy. 

Recently after the bitter freezing cold weather that stretched all the way down into Texas, Beatrice announced she wanted to do something. She announced this at the end of one of our weekly family meetings

"I want to give to Texas," said Beatrice.

"You do?" I said.

"Yes, because of the water and power problems. People need help," she said.

"Do you both want to donate your allowance 'give' money you saved?" said their mom, Amy.

"Yes," Bea and Bryce said. 

"Then we'll match it," said Amy.

Another big milestone arrived recently as well -- one that involves a developing independence. The girls have spent more and more time alone at home by themselves when Amy and I are going for a walk or a hike or running errands. However, this latest milestone was a different kind of alone, one involving venturing into the world without Mom and Dad. Every Saturday there is a farmers' market across the street from us. It's the beginning of a highway actually, but there is a four-way stoplight at the intersection with "walk - don't walk" signals. 

The girls really wanted to go by themselves and get some yummy treats. We agreed and then reviewed our safety plans about crossing the street. We also reviewed our Kidpower safety about being on their own and being calm, confident and aware about everything and every person around them as they walked to the farmers' market and back again. We gave them some money and reminded them to buy us carrots with the greens so our rabbit could eat the greens. 

Off they went. "Should we follow them?" I asked Amy. 

"No, let them go. They'll be okay," she said. 

The girls don't have phones yet, although that will change this year as they start doing more things on their own, and as they finally get to go back to in-person school (Bea will be in 7th grade and Bryce in 5th in the fall!). And while they struggle with opening and closing chip and cereal bags, among other things that we as adults take for granted (and can also still struggle with), their path to independence is a wonderful thing to witness and an honor to be a part of. 

Sunday, January 31, 2021

The Safetyists

"The snakes and arrows a child is heir to
Are enough to leave a thousand cuts
We build our defenses, a place of safety
And leave the darker places unexplored..."


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just the other night during dinner:

"You guys are safetyists," said Beatrice.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"You want us to be safe."

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

"Well, yeah." 

"And we want to be safe, too."

"Well, yeah." 

"So, we're the safetyists."

"Well, yeah." 

And so it goes. #BhivePower

Sunday, September 27, 2020

The Building Blocks of Healthy Lives

 

Beatrice opened the sliding glass door and stared at me. My eyes met hers.

"Dad, can we play Hedbanz now? Everyone's on their devices," she said over all the adults socializing outside. 

"Yes, we can," I answered. "Tell all the kids to come out now." 

"Bring the game out, too," Mom shouted at Beatrice. 

Hedbanz is a fun guessing game where you wear a plastic headband with a slot in the front where a card is then placed. Each card has a word on it like "lion". Then, teammates give you clues to guess what the word is. 

This was part of Bea's birthday party plans, her agenda, she had set up prior to getting together with our pod. "Pod" being that pandemic term referring to a small group of families we feel covid-safe around, promising to limit interaction with others as much as possible to reduce the spread risk. 

Bea's birthday agenda had clear and specific activities -- and boundaries. The activities were inclusive for her and her friends, and for all the adults in the room. The boundaries included limiting the time spent on devices like computers, iPads, phones, etc. Which is great with us, since we're constantly setting boundaries how much time spent on devices at home. Which is super tough day to day due to the fact that the girls' school is all distance learning right now with lots of device time. 

Boundary setting is also so important in life, and for kids to learn especially. To be very clear as to what's okay to them, what they agree to do, what they don't want to do, how adults talk to them and how they talk to each other, what's safe for all involved, and what's okay with the adults in charge.

Boundaries are a critically healthy part of anyone's life and help keep us all emotionally and physically safe. They go beyond requesting friends to limit their device play. They also keep us safe when feelings are compromised, when physical touch is involved, and when there are those crossing boundaries who say "don't tell; this is a secret." Kidpower has some great boundary and consent checklist posters you can download and that we live by. My wife works for Kidpower and we've both been involved with the organization for many years. The organization is a global nonprofit dedicated to working together to build cultures of caring, respect, and safety for everyone, everywhere.

During Hedbanz, it was the kids versus adults and the competition was fierce. The final score was close -- the kids won by a point or two, but who was counting? Shortly after that and all the other Bea agenda items, Dad was all done. Tired from the previous week's workload, I was ready to go home and get ready for night-night, and so I was clear with my "all done" boundary. We said our goodbyes and were on our way. 

For both our girls to be able to be specific and clear about their boundaries is an important rite of passage for the coming teenage years and adulthood. Boundaries are the building blocks of healthy lives, inclusive and caring, and another way to keep our #BhivePower safely energized.


Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Sunday, August 30, 2020

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

The beep woke me. The camper kitchen fan remained on, but everything else was still and dark, inside and outside. I knew then that the power had gone out in our camper and the campground. No one else in my family stirred. 

I reached for my phone. It lit up when I touched the screen, revealing the time of 3:30 AM, and a text and a missed call. The text was the fact that our home motion alarm had gone off at 10:30 PM, five hours earlier. The missed called was the alarm company. That meant that, since we didn't cancel the alarm, they would've called 911. 

My first thought was to check our doorbell video camera, but since the wifi was out at the campground, and we had no cell service where our site was in the campground, that wasn't going to happen. Maybe I should walk to the front of the campground where I'll get service, I thought. 

My mind raced. Did someone break into our house? Our neighbors who were home were looking out for those who weren't, but that thought brought the sick feeling of being violated, of things trashed and lost. Burglary and looting were top of mind for those evacuated and those just getting out of the smoke due to the CZU August Lightning Complex fires burning in our areas. We've all been so stressed of late due to the fires, coronavirus and civil unrest. 

"What's wrong?" my wife Amy asked. She was awake. Good.

"Our house alarm went off last night at 10:30," I said. 

The power went back on in the campground, and a few minutes later wifi was back up. I checked our video camera footage, and sure enough, two police officers had rung our doorbell shortly after our alarm went off. That sick feeling throbbed again. 

"I need to go check the house," I said. 

"Yes, you should," Amy said.

We were only about 25 minutes from home, but it was far enough for us to get out of the smoke for a couple of nights. Smoke that still permeated much of the Westside of Santa Cruz where we live. We had been prepped to evacuate, but were fortunate that we didn't have to. Going to the campground with our camper was our choice. For nearly 80,000 people in our area, it was not a choice. We were grateful to be able to donate some bedding and other items for evacuees the day before, volunteering at one of the donation centers for evacuees and helping to sort donations.  

As I drove back to our house at 4 AM, that sick feeling grew. I thought about the time in college when I rented a house with three other guys. It was near the holidays and we had a house party. There were people there we didn't know, but hey, we were partying and all was well. The next day after we had all gone off to classes and jobs, our house was broken into. Our rooms ransacked. All the Christmas presents I had bought for my family were gone, along with other valuables, never to be recovered.

As I got closer to home, the feeling of being violated fed my fear and anger. Earlier in the week in our neighborhood, there had been a shirtless guy wearing shorts, a baseball cap and a scarf covering his mouth and nose, riding his bike around and calling out, "Here kitty kitty." He claimed to be an evacuee from the mountains and was looking for his cat he had brought with him, but his story changed after talking with other neighbors of ours. We were all convinced he was casing our houses, seeing who was house and who wasn't. There were others as well going down our street. Plus, we already had an RV homeless camp across the highway from our neighborhood that had been growing for weeks. And there had already been looters arrested in the mountain community above us, and one who had stolen from a firefighter. 

I pulled into the driveway and everything looked fine. My wife had texted if everything was okay. Beatrice was up too and texted she loved me. I texted back I was home. We had left the porch light on even though we have motion-activated lights. There was a package on our porch that had been delivered the day before. I was surprised it was still there. I picked it up and held it like a weapon. Later when I opened it, it was cookies from the RV dealer we had bought our camper from, so I was going to bludgeon the intruder with chocolate chip cookies. 

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I turned off the alarm, the package held tightly in my other hand. Nothing askew inside. Everything was how we left it. Our rabbit was in his cage in the living room staring at me and chewing hay quietly. I checked the rest of the house -- all was well. Relief washed away the sick feeling. I fed our rabbit some vegetables, locked up and headed back to the campground with the cookies. 

I let our neighbors know what had happened with our alarm and that I had come home to check on things. Everyone who was home continued to keep an eye out for each other, just as the greater community where we live -- civilians, law enforcement and firefighters alike -- all doing their best to keep each other safe and to help each other. There has been an outpouring of donations and volunteers -- donations that are still needed for the 40,000 who still remain evacuated

In the midst of so much fear and loathing today, driven by singular events, short sensational clips and soundbites, loving community wide shots abound. Like those continuing to mobilize and help one another because of fires, hurricanes, COVID-19, racial injustice and more. 

Bless you all and your communities. 


Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts: