Driving Straight

In the next year, our oldest child might be getting her driver's license. Mercy me. I have to believe every parent is excited about this prospect because the days and nights of being the family Uber driver will become fewer and farther in between. Every parent is also full of trepidation about their children driving around with all the craziness on the roads, higher insurance rates, and the fear of accidents and injuries. And God forbid they ever drive under the influence of anything and risk everything. 

Driving aside, which will definitely be the subject future articles once Beatrice does start driving, this is also about her getting an official California ID. Both our daughters already have passports, which we got for family travel, but soon she'll have driver's license, and at some point, Bryce will as well. And even if they don't drive, they'll have a California issued ID. 

Legitimate IDs are important for sure, and when we're adults we'll need them for getting jobs, to applying for loans, to voting, to buying alcohol and other legal drugs, to nearly everything. For buying alcohol and other legal drugs, you have to be of the legal age to do so. Unless you have a fake ID.

Back in my day, and my wife's day, fake IDs weren't easy to come by and weren't very good either, like all the cheesy 1980's teen movies we loved back then. I had friends in college who had fake IDs, but never in high school (that I was aware of). My dad could've spoken to this much better than I being a forgery and fraud detective in the 1980's. 

But today it's supposedly very easy to get a fake ID online. For $50-$150 you can get two to three fake IDs on sites such as this one. I don't really want to advertise these sites, but it's real and teens have access to them. 

In California, you still have to be 21 years old to purchase alcohol and marijuana products, but if fake IDs are that good, then it doesn't matter how young you look using one. For those who are 18-20 years old, marijuana is still illegal in California unless you have a current qualifying physician’s recommendation or a valid county-issued medical marijuana identification card. I've also read those are easier to get than you think. 

So, combine that with fake IDs and cannabis dispensary access within walking distance from high schools, and that's a potentially major health risk for our kids. The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has shared evidence of the mental health impacts of marijuana usage among teens that include harmful impacts on brain and cognitive development, addiction, higher risk for marijuana-induced psychosis, and suicidal ideation. Not to mention the detrimental effects of alcohol on teen brains. Plus, we need store owners and employees that are vigilant to identifying and reporting flake IDs.

As adults, our grown children may choose to drink alcohol and/or use marijuana, and that's fine, as long as it's legal and they do it safely and not drive under the influence. Or, they'll choose not to, which is probably even better. And yes, there are parents of teens who do consume both as adults, but hopefully aren't making it okay for their kids. 

Teen consumption is more complex and dangerous than ever, and as parents, we need to be aware of how easy it is to get fake IDs and what they can do with them. Access shouldn't as easy as walking to the corner store or dispensary with a fake ID. The legal ramifications and the physical and mental health damage for teens that occur when using and abusing alcohol and cannabis should inspire us to be better parents and talk to our kids about all of this. 

We want our children to drive someday. Of course, we do. With legal IDs. That will be super helpful to us, especially when they're driving straight, and not under the influence (of peer pressure, alcohol, marijuana, the list goes on and on). 

The Beat of BhivePowered Drums

After decades of thinking about playing the drums, and with only a few short-lived runs at starting to play but never following through, I finally picked up the drumsticks for good shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown started. That was nearly four years ago now, and since then, I’ve practiced for over 1,000 hours, averaging about 5 hours per week, usually playing after dinner. When I travel, I bring my practice pad with me and try to bang out some rudiments. 

In addition to practicing rudiments and taking various lessons, I’ve also had fun learning to play many songs I grew up with and loved (and still love), nearly 120 songs to date. I get to 80%-85%% proficiency, record myself playing, and then move on to another song, always learning two songs simultaneously. Early on I couldn’t always get the entire song down, but now I can. 

No, I’m not starting a band anytime soon, but the point of all this ongoing practice is to improve and sustain my drumming performance. Hitting 100% isn’t easy, but consistency in proficiency is key. I’m also always adding wrinkles to my rudiments, the lessons I’m learning, and periodically getting feedback and lessons from a professional session drummer. 

I’ve been beating a similar drum for our teens recently, getting them to understand that it's never too late to try something new and see if it lands on the right heartbeat for them. Especially now, this is the time for them to explore what moves them the most (and they should do this throughout life). Both my wife Amy and I tell them that they should never be afraid to give something new a go. Our youngest Bryce gave theater a go and loves it. But even if Bryce hadn't liked it, they really put themselves out there during the very first audition, which is always a super-big deal. Our oldest Beatrice has given lacrosse, track, and now theater a go, and we'll see what she really enjoys and wants to continue the most. Although art is her true love and that is definitely something she continues to invest in.

The key is the heartfelt enjoyment our kids get from whatever those endeavors, hobbies, activities are that they try. The world is cutthroat competitive enough, and while our teens will still need to put in the work to learn and grow in whatever they aspire to do, they've got to have fun, too. When I coached both our kids in soccer for years, that was always my mantra. Learn new skills, embrace teamwork when applicable, and have fun. Always. Have. Fun. That's the beat of BhivePowered Drums. 

To Never Forget The Kids

We were almost home when I realized I'd forgotten our oldest daughter Beatrice. In my defense, she had been hanging out with friends after school of late, so I didn't think about her. Not even our youngest daughter Bryce asked about Beatrice, assuming the same.

But it was Bea's short day in high school, when she gets out about the same time Bryce does in middle school. That's when Beatrice will walk over to the middle school and I get them both, unless they have other after school activities (theater and sports now), or they're seeing friends, or they want to walk, or their riding bikes, or whatever. That part I'd forgotten, that I'd get them together on Mondays after school. 

Why I'd forgotten, I don't know, because our pattern doesn't vary much. Most of the time, my wife Amy takes the girls to school, and I pick them up after school, again, depending on their plans (except when I'm traveling for work). Always the back and forth everywhere, all the time, until Beatrice starts to drive, but that's still probably two years away.

Maybe I had a lot on my mind, who knows. So, that Monday when Bryce and I were nearly home, we get a text from Beatrice: "When do you want me to go to the car?"

Bryce read it out loud. "We forgot Bea."

Crap, I thought. "Subpar," I said. "We're nearly home. Let me drop you and then I'll go back to get her."

"No, let's just go get her," Bryce said, texting her back that we were on our way now.

The good news is that both schools are only about two miles from where we live. I backtracked to get her, thinking she was at the middle school where she would usually go on Mondays. The part I had forgotten. But, part of her text was that she was still in a teacher's room at school, and both Bryce and I thought that meant at the high school. 

We were nearly to the middle school and that's when we turned around and went to the high school. Not realizing until after further texts from Bea that was actually at the middle school, where she was supposed to go in the first place. So, after reaching the high school, we turned around again and headed to the middle School.

It became a "who's on first" Abbott and Costello comedy routine, as well as a Home Alone parody. I'd forgotten to get Beatrice when I picked up Bryce, and then it became a comedic puzzle for Bryce and me to figure out exactly where Beatrice was. Thankfully she forgave us and got a kick out of it when I slapped the palms of my hands to my cheeks and yelled "Kevin!" (Home Alone is one of her favorites). I have more sympathy for the McCallister family now, considering I had always sworn to never forget the kids, no matter how much is on my mind. And this time I did. Mercy me.

We Can Curb the Egg Slinging

We egged his house and he wasn't even home. His parents weren't home either. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway, caught up in the stupidity of teenage groupthink. One night at dusk when I was 16 years old, I drove my El Camino with friends in the back, while another friend drove his truck with other friends in the back, and we raced by another supposed friend's house and threw two dozen eggs at his house. As we drove by, the neighbors across the street, people who knew who we were because their daughter went to school with us, said to each other, "Wow, there goes Kevin and his friends."

When my egged friend's parents got home, they called the police and the neighbor witnesses gave us up. When I got home later that night, a police officer was waiting outside our house to question me about the egging. My parents and sister were most likely asleep, and so I denied the egging. The officer, who already had eye-witness testimony, pressed me further, even threatening to wake up my father to get me to confess. My father at the time was a long-time police officer himself, so I definitely confessed after that. 

The part that was the most devastating for me was when we all agreed to meet with my egged friend's parents and both my parents came. My egged friend wasn't there because his parents wanted to know why we did what we did, especially since we'd all been supposed friends for years. They were visibly hurt, especially his mom, and I could barely look her in the eyes. I could barely look my own parents in the eyes because their disappointment and hurt were unbearable as well. 

Not all the guys who participated in the egging agreed to come to the meeting, but what was even more uncomfortable for me were some of the guys whose toxic fathers came. They mocked the meeting and laughed at the vulnerability of my egged friend's parents, just saying basically that boys will be boys and it wasn't that big of a deal. That we were just teasing. 

But we weren't just teasing, and I knew it even before the first egg was thrown. I knew it even more painfully when I was one of two of us who agreed to scrub the eggs off his house, and it was excruciating when I faced the friend I'd egged and apologized to him. I knew what we did wasn't teasing. Teasing is supposed to be playful, friendly, and even sometimes affectionate, without intending to harm or demean. It's a way of socializing and bonding within a group. This wasn't that. 

And even if I didn't intend to bully, I participated in the bullying. Bullying is deliberately attempting to hurt, harm, or humiliate others. The impact of bullying is well-documented and can cause physical, emotional, or psychological distress. The targets of bullying often feel threatened, frightened, and/or humiliated. 

Today, with the reach and impact of social media and the dark side of artificial intelligence, cyberbullying is even more prevalent and can be way more devastating than egging someone's house. It's even worse because the reach is greater, the perpetrators are usually anonymous, and the algorithms themselves are smarter than ever, serving up more and more relevant crap -- throwing more and more literally rotten eggs -- that can make us feel like the very crap it's serving up, especially to our children and teens. Plus, we worry because more teen girls are the targets of fake nudes and fake pornography today, which is horrific. 

Thankfully, our teen girls haven't been bullies themselves, nor have they been bullied to date, online or in person. We monitor their social media usage as much as we can, talking with them about what they're watching, the impacts of all that, and encouraging them to limit their time online. We've empowered them to make good decisions, which we know they'll miss making sometimes, but they're doing pretty good overall so far, and we're never afraid to talk about anything and everything with them. My wife Amy always channels Kidpower by living these words: "The safety and well-being of ourselves and those in our care are more important than anyone's embarrassment, inconvenience, or offense."

Congress recently grilled social media leaders about the negative impacts of their platforms, with many families in the audience holding up pictures of the children they've lost because of those negative impacts. While we wait for actual federal legislative action that could make help difference, and sadly may never come, it's up to parents and families everywhere to make the difference. In fact, it's always been up to us. Virtually and organically, there will be bullying, and yet we can work on bullying prevention from a very early age into adulthood with our own kids, and then they can do the same for their kids. We can curb the egg slinging. 

Like Kids All Over Again

It's like we have little kids all over again. I mean, we've already had many different dog toys upstairs and downstairs for our dog Jenny since we adopted her four years ago. But now with our new cat, Winston, there's crap everywhere. 

Literally crap. Because one of the big differences between cats and dogs is that with cats, you don't have to buy a bunch of expensive cat toys. You can simply give them paper bags, ripped paper, twisty ties, water bottle caps, strings, and so much more, and they will go bananas playing with them all. In fact, Winston is especially fond of twisty ties. Jenny, not so much. She sticks to her favorite stuffy toys like squirrel, turkey, red bone, blue bone, clam, and candy cane. 

Jenny won't play with Winston's trash toys, but Winston will play with Jenny's stuffys, and that sometimes doesn't play well with Jenny. It's like watching an old Warner Brothers cartoon with Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog clocking in for work, with Ralph trying to capture sheep, and Sam thwarting Ralph at every turn. 

Jenny will chase Winston and bark at him when she wants to put him in his place, but most of the time they get along. And like a little kid, Winston is all over the place -- he's up on shelves, the table, the counters, the kitchen sink. Everywhere; literally the kitchen sink. I just caught him trying to climb one of our window screens again, too. 

Sigh. The grand parenting positive irony here is that our teen kids, Beatrice and Bryce, are relatively neat, keeping their rooms clean, especially Bryce, which we're grateful for (we've taught them well). And Bryce is the one taking care of Winston, at least when they're not at school, cleaning his litter box and making sure he's fed. Part of her allowance comes from keeping both Winston and Jenny fed and ensuring they have fresh water. 

However, we warned Bryce that the cat would keep them up at night, and sure enough, that's what happened. So, now Bryce shoves him outside at night, along with his litter box into the upstairs hallway, and the cat is a free range roamer in the wee hours of the morning. Beatrice is relatively safe all around, because Jenny always sleeps with us, and she's easy, and we close the door to our sun room that leads to Bea's room, so Winston can't get in there and cause a ruckus. Another irony here: we wake up to relative calm and no destruction that we can see. It's only after we're with Winston when he bounces off the walls. 

Plus, when both our kids are at school, we work from home, and it's a battle of wits and wills to keep our friggin' cat as chilled out as possible so we can work. Which is impossible, because he's a cat, and he's everywhere all at once, until he naps. Not quite a kitten anymore, but definitely a young, curious, meddling cat. This morning while my wife Amy and I meditated, I could hear Winston in the kitchen sink rattling dishes looking for food, which he won't find since we now keep our kitchen cleaner than ever, and we always kept it clean pre-cat. 

Squirt bottles and cat treats help, but mercy me, Winston's a handful. A lovingly sweet handful, like a young grandson climbing up the counter to get into the cookie jar. Thankfully his big sister, Jenny, keeps him in line sometimes, but most of the time is entertained (and annoyed) like the rest of us. And she's especially excited when Winston spills his food bowl on the floor so she can get her share of cat eats. Or, cat poop if we don't keep the litter box clean. Gross!

Reminds me of the quote from Ghostbusters, “Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!” Yep, just like kids all over again.

Produce Better Humans And Fewer Bullies

Even though I was a skinny, asthmatic kid, I was damn good at the game. I was always one of the last to go out, and along the way I'd take out many on the other side. I wasn't a bully (but relished taking the bullies out), but enjoyed the game, which I aways thought about as solely a survival-of-the-fittest game, because ultimately only one could remain standing in the end. 

And because I was a skinny, asthmatic kid, I was targeted a lot in the game, but I became pretty good at surviving, being agile enough to hop around my zone. We also played a variant of the game we called nation ball where it was double the targeting action. What I didn't realize then in my childhood mind was that dodgeball, and nation ball, were nothing more than sanctioned bullying where even bystanders could be hurt. 

In fact, in the decades since grade school for me and all the times we played dodgeball, I never really thought much about it, until our youngest Bryce got hit in the head with a ball and ended up with a mild concussion. And she wasn't even playing. Just sitting off to the side talking with friends. Most likely it was an accident, but we'll never know if she was hit on purpose or not. 

This was during middle school physical education class and both our kids had mentioned that sometimes they play dodgeball when there's time to fill during a class. Until we asked our school principal and superintendent about it, we didn't know it had thankfully already been banned from our school district (and many school districts across the country) and was no longer sanctioned to be played. Our district’s comprehensive school safety plan includes a policy consistent with the prohibition against discrimination, harassment, intimidation, and bullying pursuant to Education Code 200-262.4, and that includes not playing dodgeball. There have been multiple lawsuits about this game, too. 

Dodgeball was just something our middle school PE teachers let the kids play sometimes, unsupervised mostly. That's dangerous and thankfully that will end now. If you're not familiar, here are the rules of dodgeball according to USA Dodgeball: 

GAME OBJECTIVE/POINT SCORING

• In order to win a game, a team must eliminate the entire opposing team within the time limit.
• Each team forms an Attack Line
• Each person eliminated is called a Kill

Eliminate. Attack Line. Kill. Think about that -- those are the literal words used in the dodgeball rules. The reality is that the human is the target in dodgeball. It is solely about the strong targeting the weak to take them out. It might be fun for adults who are good at it, and those who watched the comedy from 2004 called Dodgeball, but for kids in grade school, middle school, and even high school, there are no redeeming qualities of the game. Again, I never thought about it until our daughter was hit in the head with the ball and received a mild concussion, and she wasn't even playing, just sitting off to the side. 

Being a Gen Xer, I've laughed at my share of social media memes that say things like "we never wore bike helmets in our day, and we turned out okay." Ha. We subscribed to Friedrich Nietzsche's quote, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger." But when we played games like dodgeball in school, and when we were good at it like I was, we didn't think about the impact on weaker players who never wanted to play and were always targeted. Talk with anyone who was pummeled with those red rubber balls, sometimes mercilessly, and the negative memories are painful. 

I never considered myself a bully, but I definitely know now that there was never any team building or character building in dodgeball, only enabled systemic bullying that instilled fear and anxiety in those being pummeled. Survival of the bulliest. Thank goodness our school district had already banned it from sanctioned play, and now unsanctioned play. There are plenty of other positive team-building sports and physical activities that schools engage in today, activities that can help produce better humans and fewer bullies. 

Men of a Stand-up Age

When my lovely wife texted me some pictures from the disco party she was at, I smiled. Not just because they included her, who I missed, but because of the picture of our oldest daughter Beatrice and one of her best friends for many years since grade school. Now high school teens, the picture was cute and fun, a refreshing sweetness to see while I was away. This being just one friendship of many she maintains.

Our younger daughter, Bryce, is officially a teen herself, and like her sister, has her own established close friendships. Both girls hang out more with their friends after school and on weekends, spending less time at home than ever before. 

While these changes are bittersweet, our kids no longer kids, it brings an even bigger smile to my face when I see them with their friends. Their relationships are new, honest, and fragile; a multiverse of emotion and inside jokes and laughter, each of them grappling with the overwhelming adolescent changes that become the DNA of their adulthood. Only time will tell if they remain friends over the decades, but there's always that chance. 

For anyone who's had friends for decades, it certainly is a blessing, especially for men who tend to not fare as well as women in the long-term friendship department. In 7th grade I met Robby, a tall and thin boy who befriended me and gave me a cassette tape of two Cheap Trick albums (Heaven Tonight and Live at Budokan), recorded on a discount-bin Thrifty Drug Store cassette mind you, and our rock and roll best friendship was born. I'd love to say I still have that cassette tape, but alas, I don't, just the wonderful memory of when our friendship began.

Then in high school came many new (mutual) friendships, including Jeff, Rob, Greg, Charles, Craig, and many others. And then after right high school came Craig (connected to Robby and other high school friends) and Troy (meet in college). Not all the friendships I've had over the years have withstood the test that time and circumstance bring, but thankfully there are those that have. 

We do get together when we can each year, sometimes together and sometimes one-on-one, and this last time was a wonderful visit, complete with decades of inside jokes and comedy clips (SNL, etc.), lots of laughter, and yes, even serious banter about our lives. It's been decades of friendship. The stereotype of straight male friends isn't lost on us, which is why we thought the Saturday Night Live Straight Male Friend commercial skit was so funny (but a little edgy, so beware if you watch it). Thankfully we're not exactly that (and yet, sometimes we are). 

As I wrote last year in Men of a Vulnerable Age, men can go longer periods of time without talking or seeing each other, and don't necessarily thrive on intimacy and emotional connection as much as women do. But my friends and I have shared quite a bit of our lives (intimately and emotionally) with each other over the years. The good, the bad, the ugly, the meh -- and a whole lot of comedy and tears of laughter. 

Our relationships are a multiverse of life experience, love, and inside jokes. None of us are safe from each other. We relentlessly tease and "bust each other's chops" as the saying goes, and we bust our own chops as well. We're like veteran stand-up comedians heckling an audience of us. It may be perceived as a little harsh and over-the-top at times, and it's especially awkward when we're in mixed company and we see the reaction of others. But for us, it's at times raw, real, retrospective, and always full of love. We're men of a stand-up age, and we've stood by one another for 40+ years. I hope my daughters are as blessed today with their teen friends as I have been. 

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

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