A Father’s Day Homage to My Children

June 17th, 2012

I love getting the presents. I love the corny cards chosen by my wife and only briefly customized by my children. It’s nice to not have to wash dishes after dinner. I love being a father on Father’s Day.  More importantly, though, I love being a father.

With a kid in Princeton and another in Stanford, it’s likely that I’ve done something right. My wife surely had more to do with it than me, but I can easily boast that, as dad’s go, I probably didn’t suck. I would imagine that my children would probably say that I gave them an appreciation for humor and laughter or that I taught them to love science.

When compared on the cosmic/karmic balance sheet, however, I readily admit to being a debtor; I have taken much more than I have given. What meager things I have given my children pale in value when compared to what I have received.

Their first gift to me, back before they were even born, was to cure me of self-indulgence. Sally and I had been married for 8 years when we realized that taking one more trip or buying one more toy was not going to make us any happier. We realized that the world was not just about bringing pleasure to ourselves. We decided to grow our family and our daughter was born a year later.

In the delivery room, I received two gifts. Not just a beautiful, healthy, girl, but something else, too; I learned to accept, tolerate, and even enjoy the messiness of life. For nine months, I’d been worried about dealing with the birth process. I hadn’t enjoyed the films and had always felt panicky when visiting hospitals.  Yet, there I was, in a room filled with bloody towels. I’d just cut my baby’s umbilical cord and was (at the OB’s suggestion) poking at the afterbirth to “note the incipient calcification” of which we’d been concerned. I was was thrilled to tears. Never again have I been bothered by bodily fluids. Pee, poop, vomit – no problem. Decomposing rat in the crawl space – er, okay, maybe not my favorite, but I can deal with it.

Kids are messy. Life is messy. Sometimes a mess involve fluids, other times it involves unpleasant arguments or difficult decisions. No matter, I can deal – my kids taught me how.

As my kids grew into toddler-hood they taught me patience. Teething, tantrums, and toilet incidents do not yield to reason, yelling or tears. You survive these only by learning to outlast them. The phrase, “it is what it is” finally makes sense. Years later, when I get stuck in long lines or have a flight cancelled or find myself talking to “Doug” in customer service, I can enter a Zen-state where nothing bothers me. So be it. This, too, will pass.

When I left Microsoft in 1998, my children were 5 and 7 years old – a wonderful age (no diapers!). I spent the next 6 years co-mothering my kids. I did a little work here and there but, mostly, Sally and I made lunches, drove the kids to school, drove back to school to bring forgotten items, picked them up, took them to soccer/piano/Gymboree, made dinner, read stories and put them to bed. On weekends, I taught them to ride bikes or drove them to the kids’ museum or science center.

I talk to a lot of parents who fret about the advantages and disadvantages of having a stay-at-home parent (usually, around here, a stay-at-home Mom). I reply that I’m all for it, but I think both parents should stay home. I loved the time that I got to spend with my kids.

Those years taught me how little everything else matters – I gained perspective. I track global, national and local politics. I give to charity and participate in a non-profit. I not only recycle, I compost, too. Frankly, however, none of that stuff matters in comparison to my family life. I would readily elect a Republican, steal from the poor and kill the whales if that’s what I had to do to protect my family. I participate in world events as a hobby. Being a good father and husband, however, is my duty.

My kids’ teenage years were easy. To friends, I explained my parenting philosophy regarding dealing with perils of the age. I would set unreasonably high standards so as to give the kids lofty goals (e.g. “don’t drink alcohol”). They would fail to meet these standards (as one would expect). I would then not overreact since this is what I anticipated anyway. To my kids, I asked that they use good judgement. Don’t do bad things but, if you do them, please love me enough and be smart enough that I don’t learn about them. It worked with me and my parents, could they please do the same?

We had no DUI’s, drug problems or surprise pregnancies. Both kids survived the hell of puberty/middle school and were well-grounded upon reaching high school.

The high-school years taught me grace and how to deal with pride. I remember my own father bragging incessantly about his children and vowed not to be such a blow-hard. It was difficult. We had friends whose kids were a constant source of headaches. No pregnancies, but plenty of drugs and academic issues. We had none of these problems; I was worried more that my kids were too cautious and not getting into enough trouble (although, I thought, maybe they just love me enough to not let me find out!). My kids got into great schools; it was hard to not brag. It is easy to bask in our children’s’ limelight. If they’re good, we must be good, too, no?

I remembered my own father and learned to be quiet and humble (most importantly, quiet.) Nothing ruins the buzz of Schadenfreude  like someone who’s not miserable.

Selflessness, resilience, patience, perspective and humility – these are but the major lessons. Every year of being a father has taught me something new. I am much better a person for having become one. So, on my 22nd Father’s Day, let me be the one that does the thanking: Danielle, Steven – I love you dearly. Now, please, is it so hard to call once a week?

The Alternate Universe of Australia

April 30th, 2012

Somewhere towards the end of the last century, my family and I visited London. We happened upon the “Millennium Dome” (apparently, we were among the few tourists who did) and watched a show, “Back and Forth”, while in the attraction. The stars of the show were the cast of the “Black Adder” series including Rowan Atkins, Tony Robinson, Hugh Laurie and Steven Fry. Robinson, the least known of the cast, plays “Baldrick” in the Black Series, one of my favorite characters of all time.

In “Back and Forth”, Blackadder and Baldrick travel back in the past and accidentally kill the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo. They also meet Shakespeare and ask him for his autograph. When they return to the present, everything is similar but not quite: the world speaks French and Shakespeare is remembered as “that clever fellow that invented the ball point pen” (they’d left theirs behind).

This is what Australia is to the US: a parallel universe where things are almost the same but not quite. We both speak English (differently than the English), we both have dollars and we both play a game called “football” that differs from the game that everyone else calls “football”. Both countries are large and sparsely occupied. Both are isolated from the rest of the world (well, we have Canada and Mexico; they have New Zealand and Antarctica). Both were colonized by outcasts and refugees from Europe. There are many other similarities. It is sometimes easy to forget that one is in Australia instead of California.

Other times, however, I forget that I’m in Australia and I think I’m in Sweden or Denmark. The cities have grand architecture. There is great public transportation and the pedestrian boulevards are large and numerous. Cafes and pubs are everywhere.

There is no tobacco advertising anywhere. At 7-11, the cigarettes are hidden behind white cabinet doors with signs urging smokers to quit. A pack of Marlboroughs can set you back $15.

The drinking age is 18.

This is a young population. You see many families with 3 kids. On Fridays and Saturdays, the night clubs are jam packed with what seem to be 15 year olds (probably, 20, but it’s a matter of perspective; from mine, the look like they’re 15).

There are not a lot of people of color here. Most cities have large Asian populations and many businesses that cater to Asian tourists but you see very few blacks and browns in the street.

People are extremely friendly (even by Washington state standards).

You have to drive on the left side of the street.

It is my premise that Americans are fundamentally optimistic because the country was populated by people fleeing repressive societies or ones with limited economic prospects. We came here because we believed that this place would be better and that we would enjoy more freedom and opportunity. Frequently, we risked our lives and all our belongings to pursue this conviction.

I think Australia is much the same. The early convicts certainly had prospects for a better life! The subsequent settlers were driven by many of the same dreams as their American counterparts.

Alas, when comparing things, one tends to notice the differences in addition to the similarities. Australia’s youth, both historically and demographically, manifests itself as a society that still sees itself on the rise. Much of Australia is still undeveloped and sparsely populated. China is their largest trade partner and a frequent investor in the country. For the most part, Australia weathered the recent economic storms with little damage.

I suspect few Americans would voice the same optimism. I am hopeful that the economy will improve and that, eventually, we will solve our debt problems, but I am doubtful that we’ll ever see the growth and hubris of the early 90’s. I am doubtful that we can overcome the reality of increasingly properous countries (China, India, Brazil) that will diminish our influence in the world. I am not surprised to see young people here leaving for other countries in the hopes of finding better opportunities. After all, those “nomad genes” are a fundamental part of our American identity.

Less suck, more awesome

March 15th, 2012

A couple of years ago, a friend posted a video on You Tube that I thought was great (you can find it here). It’s basic message was that there are two ways to make the world better: reduce the suck or increase the awesome. Normally, we focus on the former; we strive to reduce poverty, eliminate diseases, prevent wars, etc.. Occasionally, however, it is important to “foolishly” focus on the latter. The video talks about the awesomeness of the Webb Space Telescope, but it could be equally referring to the funding of artists, climbing Everest or blowing up the carcass of a dead whale (in case you missed it, here’s that video).  It’s worthwhile to do awesome things because the awesome feeds our collective souls just like food stamps.

I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s been so difficult for me to write during the last year and partly it’s because I’ve been working on a really awesome project. Mind you, not awesome as in exploding whale carcasses, but awesome as in reaching lots of people and enabling many cool things. Even if I could write about it (I can’t), I wouldn’t. The point is not the project but rather the enjoyment and dedication that working on something you love implies. It’s not that I haven’t had time to write – as a contractor, my schedule is more flexible – it’s that all my inspiration has been monopolized by my work. I’ve probably not done a single creative thing during the last year that was not associated with my project. (Not completely true, I did file a pretty clever patent, but that was pretty awesome, too).

The weird thing is that I’m not even supposed to be working. I retired from Likewise about a year ago and figured I’d get into a different business in a few months or a year. Instead, three months later, I  was starting my new gig. I would not be doing it if it had not involved something truly cool.

As it happens, I’m writing this from 30,000′, flying back from a business trip. On the plane I got to watch a corny movie with a sappy ending that, nonetheless, made me tear up as I realized how much of the joy of being human comes from those moments of awesomeness. Holding my newborn children in the hospital, motorcycling the volcanic desert in Iceland, smoking a cigar with a best friend that I’ve known for 38 years, everyday realizing the treasure that is my wife – these are sublime moments. I suspect that dogs and cats and apes have primitive feelings, but I’m pretty sure that none of them understand how a mathematical function, a hug from your senile 91 year old mother and a song by Nine Inch Nails can all be the same thing. Awesome comes in many different forms.

So my advice is to heed the video.  Yes, a good portion of our lives, be it at work, home or elsewhere, is about reducing the suck.  We all need food, clothing and shelter. Certainly, do your best to reduce the suck in your life. But don’t forget about the awesome.  If you can find one awesome thing every day in your life, I’m pretty sure you’ll be better off for it.