Another Majestic Moment

"...You move me

You move me
With your buildings and your eyes
Autumn woods and winter skies
You move me
You move me
Open sea and city lights
Busy streets and dizzy heights
You call me
You call me..."

–Rush, Analog Kid

We sat in stillness watching the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the Pacific. The only sounds were the strong sea winds whipping through the grassy hills around us and the far-off yipping cries of coyotes. Just below us were a group of Tule Elk bulls grazing, which was something we weren't sure we'd see. Their silhouettes in the distance were soothing. I rolled down the window and took a picture. 

Earlier in the day, a park docent told us that the Tule Elk were primarily from the Central Valley and were nearly wiped out. Two pair of mates were brought to the Point Reyes National Seashore where we were on this trip. Those two pairs eventually because over 600 elk in the area. But he told us that we may not see any unless we hiked a few miles up to the north end of the park. 

What my wife Amy wanted to see was the sunset and it was coming fast. We decided we wouldn't make it in time doing a hike to the water, so instead, drove back along the road to the top of the highest hill, turned around, and parked on the side of the road. That's when we saw the Tule Elk grazing. One of them looking up, watching us intently, but then continued to graze. 

It was the last hoorah before school year started. Our kids Beatrice and Bryce stayed home to hang out with their friends, and Amy and I took off for some together, just the two of us. Now that the kids are older, and not like we were when we were young (thank goodness), we've been taking more trips without them. It's great, especially now that Beatrice is driving. They take care of the house and our pets. Of course, we miss them, and they miss us, but adulting is here to stay. Yeah! That continues to be an interesting new phase in our family's lives and one we embrace fully! 

Point Reyes and Inverness where we stayed were spectacular. Only three hours from us, it's a place we'd never been to before. Another highlight was hiking down to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. And then back up again. A very steep 313 stairs plus another 50+ feet of pathed path with guardrail fencing on either side due to the sheer drops of hundreds of feet down the cliffs into the ocean. It's also the windiest and foggiest location on the west coast, and although it was very windy, it was clear and beautiful. The "caution" sign at the top of the stairs started with the warning "The 313 stairs are wicked hard."

The stairs weren't that hard for us, but the vertigo was. We dubbed it our Angels Landing, because we actually finished it. If you’re not familiar with Angels Landing, it’s an iconic rock formation in Zion 1,500 feet tall with a hiking trail that does not have any guardrails, just heavy iron chains bolted directly into the red rock for hand support. That's it. Amy and I attempted it in 2007, nearly making it to the end (or midway, we were never sure). The fear of falling kicked our butts back down to ground level.

I have a fear of heights, and yet I always challenge myself to do activities that include heights. Why? Because I don't want to miss out -- and it always freaks me out -- and I still do it. Same with Amy. Neither of us could finish Angels Landing, but we finished the Point Reyes Lighthouse climb. I stayed focused on the stairs, held onto the guardrails, and never looked down the cliff side. 

It was worth it. In the nearly 30 years I've been with Amy, I've learned that everything we do together is worth it, strengthening our bond exponentially. Even if I balk at first. I didn't think we should park on the side of the road to watch the sunset because I was afraid we'd startle the Tule Elk bulls and they'd rush our car, which they can do during mating season. 

We didn't startle them, though. We stopped and sat in stillness watching the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the Pacific. The Tule Elk silhouettes in the distance soothed us. One of them looked up toward us and then continued to graze. We smiled and touched hands, feeling blessed by another majestic moment together, one of millions stored forever in our hearts. We missed our kids, but we know we've instilled in them the same love of moments like these, receiving hearts from them when I texted them our pictures. 

Fully Embraced Adulting

"I'm going to host two parties while you're gone," said Beatrice.

It was funny, because it wasn't true. And we were comforted by that. Comforted because we'd come to the crossroads of whether it was time we could leave our teens at home alone for a night or two while Mom and Dad took a trip without them. 

Every time now when we leave them home alone I joke with them and say, "No parties." 

Both Beatrice and Bryce would laugh and say they would. But we knew they wouldn't. Unlike us when we were that age. Don't get me started. We definitely had parties. Threw a rager or two as the kids used to say. Our kids just aren't interested in that kind of social scene. I feel like fewer kids are. In fact, fewer are according to research. And fewer are sexually active as teens, too -- there's been a 54% drop since 1991. 

Goodness, were we just bored with too much alone time on our hands without adults around when my wife Amy and I were teens? Yep, we were. I mean, compared to us, we're glad our kids are good kids, without any unhealthy experimentation that we know of, and we do talk with our kids freely about most coming-of-age topics. Well, Mom does more than me because, although I do get in on the conversations when I'm not the grumpy "no" Dad. 

Since the pandemic, mental and physical health has been a big family priority for us all. Amy stopped drinking alcohol two and a half years ago, and although I still drink at most a few nights a week, it's a lot less than we did during COVID (I think many parents with school-age kids back then did as well -- call it the coping libations). 

Amy and I exercise regularly and encourage our kids to do the same. Both Beatrice and Bryce also self-regulate their device usage, especially Beatrice. They also have their friends they hang out sometimes, friends who also don't engage in risky behavior that we're aware of (like ours did back in the day).

That's why we're comfortable leaving them at home for a night or two now. They have our local friends to call in case of an emergency. And Beatrice, being the oldest, has fully embraced adulting, making sure her sibling Bryce is taken care of, our pets are taken care of, and the house is taken care of, all while taking care of herself, and now working all day five days a week at her summer camp job (this last trip we took was during two days that Bea had to work). Bryce helps and does their part as well, but Beatrice is still the responsible elder in charge while we're away.

Which is why when Beatrice said to us, "I'm going to host two parties while you're gone," we knew she was teasing us. Also, no teen who was really going to party it up ever says "I'm going to host two parties". Like ever. Unless it's a Tupperware party, and I don't think that's a thing anymore anyway. 

Relationships That Travel Well

"You get annoyed so easily," Bryce said. "You both do."

Our youngest was talking to us, her mom and dad. She said this because we got snippy with our oldest Beatrice for always taking too long to choose something to eat and drink while we were on vacation (and just in general). Bea always needs more time to choose since she's a vegetarian, and we understand that. 

Bryce doesn't need more time to choose, because she's not a vegetarian, but she can be really picky about what she eats and how she eats it. Sometimes when she orders food she's like Sally from When Harry Met Sally -- "And I'd like it all on the side, please." She also gets really "hangry" when she's hungry and picky, which did annoy us a few times on this vacation. 

Both kids were actually pretty good the entire trip and the family grump level was low overall considering how much we make the kids go, go, go and do, do, do. This after traveling over 13,000 miles, most of which was the long flights to London and back. Overall, it was a two-week trip of planes, trains, automobiles, buses, and taxis to and throughout the UK and Ireland. This trip also included about 90 miles of walking over two weeks, an average of seven miles per day. Our kids didn't walk all 90 miles, but they did do most of it. 

As I mentioned in my last piece, there are no greater companions in the world than my family. No more how great, though, the snippy grumps happen between all of us, including between mom and dad, my wife Amy and me. It all comes with the travel territory when vacationing together as a family. Or when we're just living together 24/7. Which is all the time. 24/7.

After over 25 years together and many destinations under our belts, Amy and I can definitely get snippy with each other when traveling, especially when it comes to:

1. How early to get to the airport, which for Amy is never early. She'd prefer to get there at not necessarily the last minute, but without a lot of sitting around time. I prefer earlier than later, just to have wiggle room if something goes wrong. (We compromise nicely on this one now.)
2. Directions, which in full transparency, I'm not the greatest at, even with the Maps app and GPS. We can walk or drive somewhere, and then if we did it again, I would still second-guess which way to go, even with GPS.

In regards to number 2, during the last leg of our trip in Ireland, we decided to rent a car and drive ourselves around. Before this trip, the one and only time we drove on the other side of the car and road was in Australia back in 2018, and we ended up doing okay with the driving. So, we did it again in Ireland. 

This time there were a lot more roundabouts than in Australia (at least it seemed that way), which actually are quite efficient compared to stoplights. The problem (for me) was which exit to take. The Maps app would tell us specifically which exit to take, but when Amy drove I told her to take wrong one a few times. In my defense, the Maps exit number didn't always match the exits on the roundabouts we took, but I was still wrong most of the time. That frustrated her to no end and I finally stopped commentating. Kind of.

I did the same thing when we used Maps while walking around, and it took me over a week to figure out that the little flashlight-like directional glow coming off the blue dot was like a compass reminding us to keep following the right blue-line directions. Again, in my defense, Maps and GPS can freak out and give incorrect directions, but most of the time they were correct. And I was not. Amy and I are still a good team and we get to where we're going. 

Yes, we all get grumpy traveling together (and living together). However, there's a nuance to the mom and dad travel and everyday life grumpies that sometimes our kids mistake for fighting. Amy and I have been together for over 25 years now and we know each other very well. Of course we've had our share of disagreements, even a few serious fights, but we also like to tease each other where it sounds like we're grumpy, but we're really not. They're just one part of our long-term relationship terms of endearment and this came up with our kids during vacation.

"You guys get annoyed so easy," Bryce again reminded us. "Are you fighting now?"

"No, Bryce, we're teasing each other this time, but we can get snippy with each other as you've already seen on this trip," Amy said. "The difference is we always work it out no matter what."

"We don't always agree, but we know how to compromise," I added. "And of course we love each other very much."

That was my queue to give Amy a kiss. 

"Ugh, stop it!" both girls cried out. 

Then I kissed her again.

We hope someday they'll have their own loving and elastic relationships based on trust and compromise. Those are the relationships that travel well. 

No Greater Companions

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

—Shakespeare, The Tempest

"Dad, no more steps!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Dad, no more steps!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm so hot and tired," said Bryce. 

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

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

Holding Space In Our Hearts

The airline text read "flight canceled." I stared at it for a few seconds before I opened the entire text to read it and click through. Sure enough, our flight was canceled. 

I told my wife Amy. "Call the airline," she said.

The airline confirmed that due to extreme weather in the midwest, we wouldn't be able to get out there until Sunday. It was Friday morning and the celebration of life memorial we were going to was on Saturday. Unfortunately that travel math didn't work for us. 

We had been looking forward to seeing family and celebrate Aunt Julie's life. Aunt Julie had been married to Amy's Uncle Brian and sadly passed away last year. She was a joyous loving soul who loved travel, dancing, cooking, playing games, was quite the artist, and generally loved to have fun. We enjoyed our visits and travels with her and Brian over the years and really wanted to be there. It also wasn't lost on us that years ago when we traveled with her and Uncle Brian to Boston was the year before we were pregnant with our daughter Beatrice. 

But again, the travel math wasn't going to work for us. It was the beginning of our kids' spring break, so we quickly brainstormed what we should do, if anything. Do we just do a stay-cation and stay home? Or, do we go somewhere else and spend way too much money? The latter won out. 

Amy wondered out loud what Julie would want us to do. "Maybe we should go down south and go to Disney and/or Universal and have some fun. What do you think?" she asked me.

She waited for me to respond no, my usual default reaction, but I didn't say no this time. 

"Sure, but we need to make sure we can get tickets since it is the beginning of spring break," I said. 

"Beatrice and Bryce, do you want to go to Universal and maybe Disney?" Amy said.

Multiple cheers confirmed the affirmative -- they definitely wanted to go. So, that's when we pretty quickly pivoted and rebooked our trip to LA, grateful that we could actually do that. Fortunately there were hotel rooms and park tickets available. 

Beatrice and Bryce thoroughly enjoyed our last-minute spring break trip pivot and every ride we went on at Disneyland and Universal, even with the long line wait times and the crush of people. Amy and I enjoyed as well, and throughout the entire trip, held space in our hearts to celebrate Aunt Julie's life and the fun she definitely would've wanted us to have, and would've had with us had she been there. 

Holding space in our hearts for the best of us makes the most of every moment wherever we are. 

Our Mobile Happy At Home

When the power went out in the camper, it was the worst. In the middle of the night, everything quiet because the fan noise stopped. And then to find out our home alarm went off, too, and the cops had come to the door (which they friggin' charged us money for, too). These things weren't connected at all, just a faulty motion detector at home that we eventually got fixed, versus RV park's power going out. 

But the power going out in the camper while we were out doing activities where we couldn't bring our dog Jenny became too stressful for all of us, especially me. And especially Jenny, because we have to crate her inside the camper. If we were gone for a few hours and the power went out...I didn't want to think about that.

We tried to let her roam free inside the camper while we were away, but that turned into tearing the screen right off the door. We tried hemp chews to relax her, and that didn't really work either. Many of the places we've been to with our trailer camper we've been able to take Jenny with us outside with us, but there are times we cannot. 

RV travelers take their dogs with them all the time. As I write this, many people have already passed our campsite with their pups and I hear them barking near and far. When my parents had their motorhome, they brought their squirrelly little Chihuahua mix Lucky with them everywhere. My mom, who had an auto-immune disorder and chronic pain, was working on getting Lucky certified as a service dog, which meant she could technically take him anywhere with her. 

Our Jenny isn't a service dog, though, and changing environments for many dogs can be very stressful. When we first adopted Jenny, and tried to leave her alone at home, she peed everywhere and scratched at the front door leaving deep gouges. 

She eventually relaxed and realized this was her home, and we were her providers. Jenny actually is a good travel dog, until we have to leave her alone, and then it's as stressful as the day we brought her home. That's why we decided this time for our longer summer road trip adventure to get a house and pet sitter while we were away. Someone who used to babysit our daughters. Not just a dog sitter, but a rabbit sitter too -- our rabbit Dragonlily. He's easy, though. Hay and veges and he's good. 

We love our trailer camper. Our dog, not so much, although she likes being with us, but this time she'll be more happy at home. Our kids like being with us as well, thankfully, and traveling with us, but they too get homesick like Jenny does. 

We'll all make do for now and enjoy. At some point when they're older teens, our girls can take care of Jenny while Mom and Dad hitch up the little love trailer and hit the road alone; our mobile happy at home.

But then we'll have to have the "no parties" talk with the girls, which of course will be another post for another time in the future. Mercy me, another time. 

Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Thank you to those who have sacrificed for our freedom to have our mobile happy at home!

Memories Now and to Come

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit. 

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

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

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

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

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

“You're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting,

So... get on your way!”

―Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go!

I swore I would never drive one. Never in a million years. Nearly two decades ago, when my parents owned a motorhome, and way before we had the girls, I remember my wife Amy saying, "I'd love to have one of those someday and see the rest of America."

"I'm not driving that bus," I said. "You are."

"We'll both drive it," she said.

"Nope. Let's just go tent camping," I said.

"Nope," she said. 

And for good reason for her. The year after we met, Amy and one of her best friends took a safari trip to Africa and camped in tents. It was an amazing trip until they all got dysentery for days. And that was the end of tent camping for Amy. 

However, my sister's kids had a blast traveling with Nana and Poppa,  my parents, in that motorhome. I mean, I always thought it was cool that they had one, but no, ain't never gonna drive one. 

But with Amy, the love of my life I've traveled the world with, I've learned to expand my horizons, and be more open to doing. I've always been that "no" guy. Where my pragmatic cynicism (oh, ego) kicks in when a new idea is kicked around, or when the reality of the moment kicks me in the groin. Yep, the "no" guy. Both our daughters know that if they want a "yes" then don't ask Dad.

Before we had the girls, when we were fortunate enough to go to Belize back in 2006, we had rented a little jeep, a Suzuki Sidekick, not really thinking about whether or not it would have automatic transmission. We just assumed it would. So, as we stood in the little rental kiosk off the airport getting the jeep checked out to us, we had no idea it had a standard transmission.

Until we loaded our stuff and sat in the seats, with me in the driver seat. 

"Wait a minute. This is a stick," I said.

"It's all right," Amy said. "You can do it."

"But neither of us have driven a stick in years," I said.

"It'll come back. Muscle memory," she said. 

"No way. I can't do it," I said.

"Yes, you can. Now just drive. You can do it."

The "no" guy stalled out a few times, and so did Amy when she drove it, but it all came back up pretty quickly.

Then there was the "no" time when we were prepping to travel to Australia with our daughters, neither of us sure we wanted to brave driving in Australia, where everything is on the "wrong" side of the car and the road. It wasn't just me this time, and ironically Amy had trained me well, because I convinced her we should rent cars and drive during parts of the trip. 

And that's exactly what we did. To say it was awkward at first would be quite the understatement, but after getting lost shortly after leaving the Sydney airport, we got plenty of driving practice in. After the first day, we both were driving in Australia without a hitch. 

But no motorhomes! Ever! And while that is true, COVID-19 struck. Everything ground to a halt, including leisure travel. With coronavirus now surging again, especially in America, even if we wanted to go on a trip (which we did and it had to be canceled), our choices are pretty limited in order to be as safe as possible. 

We had already thought about renting a camper pre-coronavirus, to try it out, but never did. Then we had friends who bought a trailer camper and hit the road. In fact, RV sales are soaring now! I was conflicted, because while it's not a motorhome, we still have to learn all the things -- all the hoses and the hookups and how to tow and drive the frickin' thing. And back the frickin' thing up into tight places. Again, all the things. Of course, we're grateful that can actually consider getting one in the first place, but to know all the things and drive it safely -- no!

But hey, a camper is a self-contained mini-hotel room where only we'll be, so there's that. Thankfully we both now embody the Yoda philosophy of "do or do not -- there is no try." A long time coming for me, we're both open to all the doing, failing, learning and doing again and again. And if this is the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, then dammit, we're going to be ready to go!

Yes, we like Star Wars and end-of-world stories.

But that's not the point. Self-doubt and fear diminish the do, and even with the vestige of my pragmatic cynicism hanging on, this old "no" guy Jedi is a doer. We researched, we shopped and we did it! The girls are super excited, as are we. We've been getting such valuable advice from friends and family, and I've also been up at night working out the physics of all the things in my head. So much to learn including how to back the frickin' thing up! That's why we're going to a parking lot first and placing orange cones down to navigate around. 

And then after the practice -- oh, the places we’ll go...

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

The Last Release

Absence may make the heart grow fonder, and according to science it does. But for me, it's in the last release where the bond strengthens even more.

That's all I could think about as I traveled back from my latest work trip, a conference in Austin. It had been a great trip, full of seeing industry friends, meeting new people and talking recruiting and candidate experience shop, but in between the work moments there was an influx of goodbye nostalgia.

When the conference was over and many attendees were at the after party, I took a break from talking to people to listen to the live karaoke band that played. They were good, too, playing a variety of hits with some of the attendees singing their hearts out (it was Austin, and music is everywhere, especially this time of the year at SXSW). Then they played a cover of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," one of many songs special to my wife and me. I recorded a bit of it and texted it to her.

ME: For you baby. Love you!

MY WIFE: Love it! Love you!

I miss your magic the most, I thought.

Shortly after that I headed back to my room for a video call with her and our girls, hearing all about their day, and reveling in a moment of focused family love.

The morning I left for home started like most return trips: I got up early enough to workout, then cleaned up, packed up and checked out. I then requested my Lyft ride and waited. And waited. And waited.

Now, that was only a few minutes, but watching the little animated car in the Lyft application on my phone turn around and head in the opposite direction.

WTH?

I wasn't pressed for time, and the airport wasn't very far away, but it still made me mad. Then the driver disappeared from the screen and the app went on to locate another driver.

WTH?

Ugh. So frustrating, but first-world problems and all that. The next driver headed my way.

I got in the car and the driver was a nice, older man, wearing thick glasses and a baseball cap. But within minutes, something was wrong. His driving app didn't update and it was still telling him to loop back to the hotel where I had stayed.

"You know, I don't know this area at all. I'm from San Antonio and just came up here for an earlier ride this morning and thought I'd take a few more rides," he said with a friendly Texan drawl. "It's telling me to turn around."

I opened up my map application and entered the airport. "Nope, just keep going straight. You're good."

"Are you sure? It says I need to turn around."

Good God. "No, we're going the right way."

Now time was ticking away and I hate cutting it close at the airport because you never know what other obstacles are ahead.

My hands on her waist, then we pull apart...

I waited in line to check my bag. And I waited. And I waited. A group of female friends traveling together didn't get their bag tags when they self-checked, so the attendant had to reprint them all. Another attendant chatted it up with someone who had also forgotten to print their bag tag, and then the attendant manually wrote it out. Manually, slowly and painfully wrote it out. Then another passenger waiting had to have their passport checked. The line behind me got longer and longer.

WTH?

Strands of our hair intertwine...

Time was still on my side, and ironically there was no line in the TSA PreCheck line. When I had checked my bag the attendant told me gate 4 and my airline application said gate 4. So, to gate 4 I went.

What was odd, along the way, was that none of the gate monitors had any information on them. Just the airport logo. I kept walking because I always like getting a little extra airport workout when I have the time. I got to gate 4 and there was no one waiting at the gate. Only a couple of people wandering around. I checked my phone app and it still said gate 4.

I walked back to find the nearest departures and arrivals screen. There was my flight, on time, but at gate 22 instead.

WTH?

We share one more kiss so warm...

So to gate 22 I went. And at gate 22, there was nothing on the gate monitor and no one at the desk to ask a question. I still had about 20 minutes before my flight would board, so I headed back to gate 4. Along the way I called the airline, but I must've called the wrong customer service line, because when I explained my situation, the customer service person said I had to call another number.

"I can't write anything down right now because I'm walking to the gate my flight is supposed to be at," I said.

"Sorry, sir, you have to call this other number."

WTH?

It lingers over time and distance...

After another hike back to gate 22, I heard a distant voice over the PA system:

"...the San Francisco flight is now at gate 22, and the San Jose flight is gate 34. We're sorry for any inconvenience..."

Gate 34 was the other end of the terminal. That was fine, because it wasn't that big of an airport, but time was ticking. I could also sense a greater confusion in the airport; what I didn't know was that the airport systems were down, which was why the monitors weren't working and the flight boards weren't updating.

I stopped at gate 30 to ask the attendant standing there where the San Jose flight was going out of.

"I don't know," she said.

"You don't know? Can't you check your terminal there?" I said and pointed.

"No, we're a different airline and the systems are down anyway."

"Wow," was all I could say.

Plus, it didn't help that I was hungry, but every line was way too long to wait with less than 10 minutes before my flight was supposed to board. Again, first-world problems, but still.

Ugh, I'm so hungry.

The breath of your being...

I overhead other passengers saying "but it says gate 4" and knew they were on our flight, but they were moving too fast to warn them. I kept moving to gate 34, and when I got there, I asked the gate attendants and they confirmed that, yes, this was the San Jose flight. That they were waiting for the Seattle flight to leave and then they'd tow in the San Jose plane for the gate change.

Thank goodness. Towing in the plane and all. Boarding had been delayed because of the situation, but not by much, and yet it wasn't enough time to wait for food, so I quickly bought a banana and a blueberry muffin where there was no line (thankfully).

The flight ended up not being too delayed after all and soon we were in the air. And all the passengers on our flight found our gate, many of whom like me had walked back and forth between gates multiple times. But we were now in the air, and after giving up on catching up on work because the airplane wi-fi only worked for 10 minutes, I thought about how much I missed home and my family.

However, none of my longing for home matched the moment of last release, when I had said goodbye to both girls, and especially my wife. We're mindful of each other during day-to-day family operations, but it's in that moment of separation where the details distill like a photo burst on a camera -- one fully focused rapid frame after another -- seconds apart that feel like millennia.

It's always in the last release 
when I miss your magic the most
My hands slip from your waist
As air fills in our last embrace
And strands of our hair intertwine
Then unravel us as we pull apart
We share one more kiss so warm
It lingers over time and distance
As does the breath of your being 
And not even my longing for home
Can match the moment of last release

Manifest the Goods

"Out of sync
With the rhythm of my own reactions
With the things that last
And the things that come apart..."

–Rush, Secret Touch

I just wanted to get ahead of the growing mediocrity in my head and get home to my family. That old nagging voice of self-doubt and mistakes made that had already tainted my confidence going in to the recent work travel and the events I helped organize. The Transforming Together triggered ghosts of the past. The CandE Awards event triggered pressures of the present. And the unknown of the future was, well, unknown. I was tired, fighting the remnants of a cold, still afraid of the infections I had the year before, repeatedly second-guessing myself and feeling the catatonic shadows of a light depression. Even after a great family wedding in between, I still felt overwhelmingly blah and meh.

All I could hear was my wife, the Mama (what I lovingly call her), telling me we manifest the moment; we manifest the good.

However, I only manifested the blah and meh.

And then on the six-hour flight home, I watched Dead Pool 2, and Ryan Reynolds made it all better. Really, I was laugh-crying at highly inappropriate joke after highly inappropriate joke and horrific comic-book violence. Sometimes you need a little of this to fix a little of that. This is a no-judgement zone, so no judging.

When I finally got home, I couldn’t wait to peek in at our girls, give my wife a kiss and go to bed. It was late, nearly midnight, and as I put the key in the lock and unlocked the deadbolt, I felt the mediocrity fall away like old skin. I sighed and opened the front door.

But it wouldn’t open. What the hell? I thought.

Then it hit me – we have a bolt on the other side of the door that was also locked. One that I couldn’t get to from this side of the door. The Mama knew I was coming home, and she had left on the porch light, and knew not to set our alarm or push the other bolt in. But she must’ve forgotten the bolt. And if the alarm was on the nighttime setting, the whole friggin’ neighborhood was going to wake up.

Dammit, Sweetie.

Okay, now what? I could get in the garage, but the door from the garage to my office was locked and for the life of me I couldn’t remember where the key was.

Now what? I could break the bolt and risk damaging the front door and still setting the alarm off if it was set.

I stood for a few minutes and realized I just have to wake up the Mama. Hopefully not the girls either, but I needed to get in the house.

So, I rang the doorbell. Once, twice and then a third time.

Nothing. I could only hear our bunny Dragonlily rattling his cage inside from hearing the doorbell. We have one of those Ring.com surveillance video doorbells, so I hoped that the Mama woke up and checked to see that it was me.

Nothing. I tried to ring it a fourth time, but it didn’t light up and ring like it’s supposed to do.

What the hell?

I pushed the doorbell multiple times and nothing. You’ve got to be kidding me, it’s broken? Now?

I went into the garage to put my bags in there and then tried to find the other key I needed to get in through my office, but had no such luck. I closed the garage and went back to the front door. The night outside was cool and quiet and freaked me out a little, adding to my uneasy feeling of being strung out already. I knew the worst-case scenario was that I could sleep in the garage, but dammit, I wanted to sleep in my bed!

I started knocking on the door, increasing the volume a little with each knock. I waited. And nothing. I did this for another few minutes, knocking and waiting – and nothing. If the girls had heard, then they were minding our safety rule of not going to the front door, especially this late at night.

However, I actually did have another alternative besides sleeping in the garage. That was going around the other side of our house and through our back gate into our backyard. I didn’t want to go that way because the gate was locked (I had that friggin' key least) and we have a big swing chair in front of it.

That was my last shot to get in, though. I walked around to the side gate and was immediately blinded by our motion detector lights. I tried to unlock the gate, but I couldn’t get the right angle, so I stacked up our side yard flagstone to stand on. That worked, and I unlocked the gate, but then had a hard time pushing swing chair out of the way to the get the gate open far enough for me to get through. Plus, we have these makeshift boards set up at the bottom of the gate to prevent our rabbit from getting out.

My neighbors are going to call the friggin’ police on me if they hear and/or see this, I thought.

No one did thankfully, and I finally got into the backyard and into the house through the back door. The alarm wasn’t on either. Thank God.

Amen. I was home. I peeked in at girls. I gave the Mama a kiss. And I went to bed. While I dozed off into an exhausted sleep, I realized I left the growing mediocrity at the door and basked in the presence of my family to move forward – that there was no other way to grapple with the past, the present and the future. That we do manifest our moments and we manifest the goods. And that's treasure worth fighting the ghosts over.

A Perfect Day, Right Here

"You're the best thing that I've ever found
Handle me with care..."

–Traveling Wilburys, Handle with Care

It would’ve been the perfect day. The winds were calmer than they’d been all week. The clouds were minimal and the temperature was going to hit over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The sea visibility was up to 12 feet, plenty of depth to see the coral and marine wildlife in the Outer Great Barrier Reef.

Earlier in the week we’d all gone to Green Island where the wind was up to 25 knots, and that pretty much reduced the sea’s visibility to nothing but murky water. Plus, there were really no coral beds to be found from where we snorkeled. But we did still see some tropical fish and a big sea turtle (from the island dock), and had okay beach time on the side of the island blocked from the wind, so there was that. No matter what, we still had yet another great family day during our Australian vacation adventure. 

The Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) and Bryce didn’t want to deal with another boat ride out to the reef, but Beatrice did, so her and I planned on heading out on what seemed the most perfect of our days in Cairns. It was also the last full day of our amazing vacation and Beatrice and I were ready to brave the reef.

Shortly after we arrived at the dock and got on the boat, I needed to complete health forms for both of us, which I did.

“Remember your safety numbers,” one of the crew members told me after reviewing the forms.

“Got it,” I said. “I’m 25 and Beatrice is 26. And my daughter will get the wetsuit. I won’t need one.”

He looked up from our health forms. “No, you should wear one.”

I nodded. “Okay, is the stinger level high right now?” I was referring to the highly poisonous jellyfish that populated the ocean here.

“No, it’s low, but you should still wear a wetsuit.”

“Got it.”

“Use these wristbands when you pick up your wetsuits,” he said, handing me two thin yellow wristbands.

“Thank you,” I said, and returned to sit with Beatrice.

We were going out into the open ocean where there would be no islands or not even a pontoon to dock to on this particular snorkel trip, so I understood there were dangers.

However, when I went to retrieve the wetsuits and snorkel equipment, the crew members handing out the equipment had no idea what the yellow wristbands were for. Had never seen them before. Had no idea why I was given them. I found that odd, but just shrugged and returned to Beatrice with our gear.

We were supposed to leave at 8:00 am, but right before 8, two of the crew members, a young man and woman, ran onto the boat and up the stairs to the upper deck, and then immediately fled back out onto the dock, emergency kits in hand.

The rest of the crew members were calm, so I didn’t think much about it. Beatrice was watching something on her iPad to pass the time, so I took a selfie with her and we waited.

“Are we going to go soon?” Bea asked.

“Yes, very soon.”

When it was nearly 8:30 am, and we still hadn’t left, I felt like something was wrong. That’s when I looked out the front boat window to the upper dock and witnessed someone, I couldn’t see who, who was receiving CPR.

“Jesus,” I said aloud.

“What?” Bea noticed the alarm in my voice.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Hopefully we’ll leave soon.”

But we didn’t leave soon, and the CPR didn’t stop. I kept looking through the widow and after about 15 minutes, there were emergency vehicles near where the sick person lay on the dock.

Another female crew member was walking around and checking people in again – the same one who had checked us in before we got on the boat.

“Is everything okay up there?” I asked, hoping to find out more information.

“There’s a man with diabetes who had a seizure, maybe even a heart attack, and they’re trying to resuscitate him,” she said freely, here demeanor calm.

“I hope they succeed,” I said. “But’s it’s been almost 20 minutes, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has,” she said giving me a meek smile, and moved on to check in others.

“What’s diabetes?” Beatrice asked me.

I explained it to her the best I could.

“Will the man die?”

“I hope not. That’s why they’re up there helping him.”

“Will I catch diabetes?”

I explained further that it’s not really something you catch like other colds or diseases because of a virus, but there are those who are genetically disposed to get it, and that if you don’t take care of yourself with exercise and the right diet, you could get diabetes.

“I hope the man doesn’t die. And I hope I don’t catch it,” she said.

By then it was after 9:00 am, and I got the feeling we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Beatrice was antsy and although the crew’s demeanor had gotten perceptibly agitated, they kept it together pretty damn well. More of them kept coming and going from the boat to the lower and upper docks and back again.

When I looked out the lower dock window again, I saw an EMT talking with the boat captain and a huddled portion of the crew. Based on the fact that some of the crew members were crying, including the young woman who checked us in, I knew what had happened even before the captain called all the passengers together on the lower deck to explain the situation to us.

The man on the upper dock had died. They tried to revive him and kept up CPR and other medical treatments for over 25 minutes, but unfortunately, they couldn’t save him. The man’s family was still up on the dock with the emergency and police personnel. Due to the fact that the crew was quite shaken by the entire ordeal, the captain decided to cancel the reef trip.

Nobody said a word. The sad and disappointed faces of the passengers and the crew said enough. We couldn’t exit the boat either, as the top of the dock ramp was where it all happened, so the captain moved the boat to another part of the dock so we could depart. I’d been texting the Mama and her and Bryce met us where we eventually re-docked.

Right before that, as the boat slowly moved past where the man had died, I saw his family sitting on the dock rail talking with an officer, I assume the wife and son. The female crew member who had checked us in was the first one to witness it, and she told me the man was on vacation with his family from Melbourne – and one minute he was fine and then the next – he just swayed, passed out and fell onto his side, hitting his head on the dock. He stopped breathing and she held his head while some passersby started CPR.

We decided that it was best to move on with our day together as a family, enjoying the first day of NAIDOC Week, where all the indigenous people of Australia celebrate their culture, their history and their tribal families. Ironically one of the booths at the NAIDOC cultural fair was the local Cairns emergency and ambulance services personnel, and when we explained to them what had happened, and that the girls had questions about CPR, they gave the girls a little demonstration and explained how it helps save lives.

When they can save them, of course. It doesn’t always work out that way sadly, because the family that Beatrice and I would never meet on a Great Barrier Reef trip we would never make would now grieve for a father and husband they lost. I can’t imagine and didn’t want to imagine if that had been our family. Every memory of our trip fossilized within. My heart ached for his family.

That's the thing, though – anything can happen, anytime, anywhere.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” the Mama said at the end of the day. “What a way to finish and what a tragedy. It would’ve been a perfect day out there today, too.”

“It was a perfect day, right here,” I said.

She smiled. A minute later she said, “You know, this morning when we dropped you both off, Bryce said she felt like she’d never see guys again.”

I cringed and then shook my head. “She was just missing us.”

“I know, but still.”

I nodded and smiled at her and the girls. I then turned my gaze out over the still ocean beyond. I knew I’d be wearing that nondescript yellow wristband for some time to come.

A Grateful Man

Seven thousand miles away from home, the left lens of my reading glasses fell out of their frame and onto the empty seat next to me. It’s the one side where the screw always comes loose over time opening and closing them after wearing and storing back in their case.

When I’m home, we have a tiny eyeglass screwdriver that does the trick every time to tighten them back up again. To date in all my work and family travels the past few years, I’ve never needed the tiny screwdriver away from home. Ever. Until this time.

Although I usually check them before I travel and tighten accordingly, I must've forgotten this time. There I was, on a flight back home to the United States from Istanbul, Turkey, and I take my reading glasses out of their case, and – flop. There goes the lens out of the frames onto the seat.

I mentally thanked the travel gods first and foremost since no one was sitting next to me. Who knows what would’ve happened if there was someone sitting there. Maybe the lens would have bounced off the person’s leg and onto the floor, tumbling into the aisle to then be crushed underfoot by an unaware passerby. Or, what if it fell to the ground and rolled under the seats behind me, or fell between the person’s legs next to me while they slept? Then what?

Well, thankfully all the other "whats" didn’t happen. Then I worried that the tiny screw that came loose had fallen out and been lost forever, but no, it was still intact in its chamber ready to be tightened yet again.

Phew.

However, there was one thing I was painfully aware of – I didn’t have the tiny screwdriver with me. Crap. Probably couldn't have taken it on the plane with me anyway.

What to do, what to do.

I had been on a business trip to Istanbul and also Sofia, Bulgaria. Such an amazing trip and I was quite thankful to have been invited to go so far away to speak at an event and run one of the candidate experience workshops I’m so passionate about doing. I always say that, while I don’t like being away from my family for too long, I do love to travel with them when we can, and for work, to see new places and meet new people. I thank the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) for giving me that little bug.

And so, if it can’t be family travel, then work travel it is. While away on this trip, I learned more about St. Sofia, the Christian widow of Italian ancestry who lived in Rome during the Roman empire, and whose name means wisdom. She had three daughters whom she named after the three great virtues: Faith, Hope and Love. All of the things that remind me of my wife and our two girls, Beatrice and Bryce. The story of Sofia and her daughters is prominent in the history of both places I visited.

What I needed now was some inventive wisdom – how to fix my glasses so I didn’t lose the lens and/or the tiny screw – so it was time to channel my three great virtues. The Mama’s like Mcguyver, the 1980’s action hero who could defuse a bomb with a paper clip, a rubber band and a plastic butter knife; she can do all that and more with her eyes closed.

Our girls are also quite imaginative and resourceful when it comes to utilitarian creativity. Give them an empty cardboard box and shortly thereafter you’ll have a combination luxury leprechaun trap and condominium apartment (Bryce wanted to ensure creature comforts for the leprechaun), or a shelf elf candy extravaganza entertainment center (the latest of many #BhivePower shenanigans around the house).

Me, not as much. I mean, I can get the things done, and I can be creative, but I can also take the long way around to get there.

Not this time, though; I set my mind to solving the problem with what I had. I didn’t think that asking the flight crew for a tiny screwdriver would’ve been fruitful, or smart actually, so I first tore a piece of the flight menu made of thicker card stock, but thin enough to fit into the screw slot. It didn’t work, though – too flimsy to stay in the slot and turn the screw.

Then I started digging through my electronics bag in my backpack to see what I could come up with. There was nothing small and thin enough to do the trick.

Think, think, think.

Then I saw all the USB flash drives. I picked one up and turned it over and over. The metal that made up the plug portion could be pried open and bent, so I went to work. I broke some the plastic insides and got the outside metal sheath detached. There were small outcroppings of thin metal like tabs that could potentially be used like a flathead screwdriver, but unfortunately they were too big.

There was a second sheath of metal underneath the first and it had smaller and thinner tab outcroppings. I separated that from the plastic part of the flash drive. But then I noticed the four gold conductive filaments that ran parallel to each other over the end of the inner plastic plug portion that were also small enough and thin enough. Victory, I thought. I folded back the two inner rectangular filaments and tried to use the outside ones as makeshift screwdrivers, but alas, they were too flimsy and just kept bending when I tried to insert them.

Back to the mangled inner second metal sheath – magic time!

This piece had even smaller and thinner metal tabs that weren’t flimsy like the gold filaments. I carefully bent the piece without cutting myself to single out only one of the tabs that could be used as a tiny screwdriver. I worried that the flight crew might think I was making a tiny shiv, but no one paid any attention to me (which also worried me).

I was ready to test it out. I fitted the lens back into its frame, closed it tight and held on firmly. Then I fit I homemade screwdriver into the tiny screw slot and turned. Success. Then I turned again. And again. And again. Until once again the frame was tightened with the lens safely intact. It worked!

Right on!

I put everything away and settled into my seat to watch A Man Called Ove, the movie based on the wonderful heart-wrenching novel I read last year about a man reminded of how precious life truly is.

Then somewhere over the Northern Atlantic, a grateful man with tears in his eyes longs for his family and drifts off into fitful sleep. 

Where The Real Magic Happens

“Magic happens—but it often requires some planning.” —Neil Peart

I sat less than two feet from the TV. Fixated. My butt glued to the floor. Nothing else mattered except for the singing and dancing monsters, children and adults on the screen. The chill of foggy frosted winter mornings or the scorching summer Central Valley heat made no difference. My mom would vacuum all around me and I still wouldn’t budge. I didn’t hear or see anything else except for my special show brought to me by the letters A-Z.

“…can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street…”

That blessed little Children’s Television Workshop creation (now Sesame Workshop) that launched learning and imaginations not only for the Mama’s and my generation, but also for the subsequent generations since – including our girls. Over 45 years of Jim Henson furry Muppet fun on an imaginary inner-city street in New York City.

The Big Apple idea that shared big yet safe, sometimes socially and culturally sensitive, accessible information for toddlers and children (and their parents) about learning and life. So it was only appropriate that when we planned our big family vacation adventure to New York City and beyond, that we’d end where it all began for us as children – Sesame Place – the amusement park that celebrates all that’s huggable Muppet and more. To sit on that beloved corner of 123 Sesame Street with my girls

We’re West Coast folk for sure, but we decided that for this adventure we wanted to go east, to do something different and give the girls some travel sea "land" legs for a future of continuous discovery. We’ve traveled many different places with them prior to this, but this was the longest duration we’ve done “on the road again” since before they were born. The Mama architected the journey and I helped with a few finishing touches and then we were off…no step-by-step planning, just enough of an outline to guide us on our journey and make some magic.

Because that’s what travel is for us, experiencing new locales and their locals who light up synapses we never knew we had like exotic fireflies on a sweet summer night. That includes those across town or across the state or across the country or around the globe. As much as our budget bandwidth allows, and even then the Mama is quite creative with a dollar.

It’s important to us that our girls eventually find it important to them that there’s a whole world of adventure and experience out there, easy and hard lessons alike, spacious views and painful realities, that will give them a rich tapestry of perspectives and worldviews. We can only hope that these experiences, along with the mindful presence we try to impart on them over the years and the spirituality they may find, will help them hewn the strongest of life staffs for their journeys far and wide.

Oh, and there’s the fun. Tons and tons of fun.

So now after over 6,300 miles of planes, trains and automobile through three states, five cities, a cave and visits with family and friends in less than two weeks, we’re home.

And that’s where the real magic happens anyway, when the blur of what we've experienced pools in our busy heads and hopeful hearts like summer rain in Central Park.

Why the Wheels on the Bus Are Empathic

Let's take the city bus!

Granted, it's not glamorous global travel, to see the world through the eyes of locals from other cultures, but then again...

The Mama and Beatrice have already taken the Santa Cruz city bus around town, but have not as a family. I know, I know -- we drive all over town and don't usually use alternate forms of transportation, including walking, all of which are better for the environment (and the pocketbook, even with gas prices dipping like they've done).

We actually do walk a lot in and around our neighborhoods, especially back and forth to Natural Bridges State Park, and even sometimes to the girls' school. We're not a bicycling family, but we are a walking and hiking family, and we proudly push the girls to partake wherever and whenever we go.

The caveat to the "push" is that we literally have to push them in the sit-and-stand stroller still once in a while, Bryce especially, and the second year at Disney was no exception. But hey, we're still getting out and going, going, going!

We've been doing that with the girls since a very early age -- planes, trains and automobiles -- to various locales near and far in the states. No where international yet, but definitely on our travel radar.

The Mama shared a great Atlantic article titled Traveling Teaches Students in a Way Schools Can't and this quote really sticks with me:

It’s a very powerful Eureka! moment when you’re traveling: to realize that people don’t have the American dream. They’ve got their own dream. And that’s not a bad thing. That’s a good thing.

Indeed it is. The Mama introduced this good thing to me when we met and we've never looked back. But this quote's just as applicable inside America than out, which is why we want the girls to be comfortable and confident going anywhere, meeting new people, embracing new experiences across the spectrum of life (good and bad, but preferably not life-threatening), and learning a humane cultural awareness, empathy and perseverance to carry them through the good times and the bad (thank you, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.).

So we took the city bus downtown to eat breakfast, riding along with locals, hipsters and UCSC students, and then we walked (and pushed) back home nearly three miles. A bit much, but worth the extra "umph" for me and the Mama. Plus, we stopped at parks along the way home for the girls to play, play, play.

Right on. The wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town!