Tag: Children (Page 1 of 2)

Much More Than #24

January 28, 2020 / Tom

Kobe Bryant. A star athlete. A hero to many. A legend.

I don’t want to get into the minutia of hero worship or the frailties of a boy made rich and famous before manhood. There are many challenges we all face as we mature, but few of us have to do so under the spotlight. Even fewer of us have to do so under the intense pressure of performing for wealth and adoration. We make our mistakes and, hopefully, learn from them without much in the way of fanfare or notoriety.

Today, I just want to focus on a Dad and his daughter, a man with a girl he surely loved more than life. That is, after all, what truly matters.

I won’t pretend I can’t imagine what they went through. I believe I can. It makes me sad that such a loss had to happen in such a way. Yet, as I see grief on the faces of fans and athletes, this tragedy allows me to realize that great love exists. It exists even among the famous, the wealthy, the legends.

Because at the core of all the accolades, he was just a Dad with his little girl, a man with his legacy.

Tears

I have often felt waves of sadness roll over me as I contemplate my end. There is no fear of death in me but there is a sense of sadness. I want to experience all of life with those I love, and the thought of missing some of those things saddens me. I don’t want to miss a thing.

My children, if all goes according to plan, will carry on without me. Sometimes, as it so happened with #24, our plans as parents vanish in an instant. That’s the part I can’t, or won’t, imagine. It’s a horror needs to quickly vanish from my mind. I need to die before my children.

That is when the tears come. I think about Kobe, sitting next to his little girl on that helicopter, experiencing the horrible realization that nothing was going according to his plan. Not only was he going to die but so was his child. I can feel his impossible fear fighting his need to comfort his daughter. Waves of desperation poor over me as I sense his need for survival mixing with his desire to protect his baby girl. In my mind he fights his desire to tighten his restraints with his need to undo them just to hold her tightly.

I can hear screams mixing with “I love you”, fear mixing with love, and helplessness mixing with the desire to survive. It is quickly overwhelming.

So that’s where I stop. The intensity of pain mixed with the focus of a Dad’s need to protect his children proves too much. I can’t take it any further. It threatens the idea I have of my own plan, and leaves me realizing just how little control I have. I say a mantra, wipe the tears and shatter my shell, determined to live. I still don’t want to miss a thing and I know, deep inside, that fear does nothing but cause me to miss things.

The Legacy

I’m not a die hard basketball fan. I knew of Kobe because I grew up not far from where he grew up. I knew of him because of his childhood basketball exploits and the controversy he created locally by deciding to jump right from high school into the NBA.

It turns out he knew what he was doing and he trusted his instincts in doing it. Good man.

The death of Kobe Bryant and his daughter, as well as everyone on board that helicopter, comes with a legacy outside of sports legend. It offers us a moment where great numbers of people can reflect on who they are at the same time while mourning the loss of someone they cared about. Hopefully, it also gives us all a chance to reflect on the things we haven’t lost and the opportunities we still have to embrace those things in gratitude.

Kobe Bryant’s death is not just about the loss of a legend. It’s an opportunity for parents to contemplate their own mortality and their own relationship they have with their loved ones, particularly their children. We often miss those opportunities as we swirl in our life’s distractions, but they are vital to experiencing life fully in our moment. Our moment that is so unexpectedly fleeting.

The Love of a Parent

January 16, 2020 / Tom

I get sad sometimes.

I miss my oldest child. Memories flood my mind of her wild curly locks, her diaper swishing in hurried toddler steps. She once fit in the crux of my arm, and now she’s a woman nearly as tall as I am. She’s a powerhouse, and I’m a proud poppa even as I swelter in the wish of wanting her nearby.

I chat with my middle child on the way to school, her life a swirl of priorities I barely remember having. I marvel at her smile and her determination, but mostly I admire her courage in just being who she is. She makes no excuses, offers no apologies, and stands tall as a master of herself.

My youngest spends most of this morning trying to make us laugh. He knows success when his sister smiles. She is stingy with such things, and she makes us work for her reaction. He doesn’t care for her approval, but he does have a need to make the world a happier place. He’s been that way since the day he was born.

Time has been my best friend and my worst enemy.

This sadness is not a typical sadness. It’s a joyful sadness. I am so grateful and happy for what time has given. I’ve held three wonderful children in my arms, watched them grow from seeds to saplings, and marveled as they’ve bloomed in every season. I don’t hold onto their youth as much as I wish it was longer, that I had more time to marvel, to appreciate and to soak it all in. I want more time.

But the sunrise is fleeting and the dawn but a passing moment. I still have the day to enjoy in the appreciation of both.

So my children walk away and I smile, feeling both joy and sadness at the same time. I let them go even as I hold them close and watch them bloom even as I wish they’d stay saplings for just a little while longer. This is the love of a parent.

The Fragility of My Mortality

November 4, 2019 / Tom

It was bedtime and, as often the case, I went in to sit with my 13-year old son to end the day. Being a parent can be hard and sometimes the lessons we need to teach our children can be tough, but at the end of the day I like to reinforce to my kids the truth that I love them and that I am their Dad. That means that I am not just a teacher, but a role model and a man who will always do the best I can. For me, being a Dad isn’t just about teaching hard life lessons and preaching a certain kind of virtue. It is also about being vulnerable and exhibiting strength in that vulnerability.

After our talk, I ended with a “Good night, my son. I love you. You are my favorite boy in the entire Universe.” That had been my agreement with my son since he was born, and I’ve stated it so many times I could not hope to count the recitations. Despite our familiarity with that mantra, it never seems old to me. Each time I say it brings a certain amount of truth, newness and commitment into the space we share. I know soon, if he still allows me, the word boy will change to “man”. The one thing that won’t change is that he is my favorite man ever born.

The conversation used to go like this:

“I love you, bud. You are my favorite boy in the entire Universe.”

“And you are my favorite Daddy in the entire Universe.”

“I’m your only Daddy.”

“And I’m your only son.”

He has an advantage over his sisters. My middle child is currently my favorite 15-year old in the Universe, and my oldest is currently my favorite 25-year old. My son is simply my favorite boy, young man, male, whatever. He need share that favoritism with no other in his gender. He is the only one of his kind, the “man” of the house when I’m not around although his sisters have no need for a “man” of the house. They’re quite easily the strongest, most able and most independent people I know.

“Dad, give me a big hug.”

I certainly don’t say “no” to those opportunities. I assume, with some wisdom gained through the experiences I’ve had with his sisters, that those hug requests will diminish in time. This was the first year I wasn’t invited to walk with him on Halloween, that privilege being extended to his friends alone. My middle daughter didn’t even dress up this year, deciding to attend a high school haunted house with her friends instead. My oldest gave up doing those things that remind parents that they have children. Now, I have adults, and with them nothing but memories of smiles coming through princess makeup and GI Joe camouflage. I can still see each of my kids in my memory, their bags and plastic pumpkins in hand, running in dresses and scary costumes, enjoying that holiday as only kids can.

I used to be Daddy. Now, I am Dad. I used carry them on my shoulders, now I can barely lift them. They used to rely on me for so much, now I am barely tolerated (even when they rely on me). So I will never say “no” to a hug request, and I will put all my energy into that hug while it lasts.

Last night’s hug filled me with great joy, but also with great sadness. I could feel the fragility of my mortality looking over my shoulder. I could feel the moments fading. I could sense my end, although with that sense came an intense focus on the moment I was in with my favorite boy in the entire Universe.

I realized in that split second that I would not be around to see much of my son’s triumphs, or be there to help him in his tribulations. I would not be there to hug him when he needed one, or talk him through a question that entered his mind. I would not see so much of this young man’s life. I could feel a tear being born in my soul, but he would not see it. For now he would just be hugging his Dad, oblivious to the fragility of mortality that plagues us all. I could give him the gift of presence, knowing full well that one day he would fully understand the burden that mortality brings all of us who love someone deeply. The way I love my son, and my daughters, who will one day need me only to find I am gone.

That is where my “fuck” comes from. That fuck I give in this life, that fuck that says I want to be there for them, see their lives unfold, experience their joys and help shoulder their sadness. Mostly though, I know the sadness they will feel in my passing and I want to spare them from that burden. I know, however, that is a wish that will never be granted.

I woke up this morning understanding what this experience means. It means that I can’t be wasting time on the mundane, the meaningless drivel that often permeates our lives. Instead, I need to focus on the remarkable, and sharing that remarkable with those I share a love with. I need to leave a legacy of love, of words, of lessons and of memories because one day those things are all that will be left of me. I have spent a lot of my life focused on nonsense and I’ve wasted my energy on plenty of endeavors that have little meaning to those parts of me I will leave behind. I cannot build my memorial on fiction, I must build it in truth.

Perhaps that is what being a parent teaches us. Perhaps it need not be so much about “raising” our children but more about leaving them a legacy. Not a legacy of wealth and comfort, but a legacy that they can lean on when times get tough. Perhaps our role is not just to warm them, but teach them how to warm themselves and not leaving them to wander on their own, but to share with them a compass of morality, of character, and of love. That way, when they call for me and I can’t come they can still hear my voice, feel my hug, and know that I have never, ever, left them.

And I will always be their Dad.

A Pure and Holy Selfishness (An Introduction)

November 13, 2013 / Tom

“Selfishness is one of the qualities apt to inspire love.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

I wander, in this windswept world of ideas and thoughts, and wish I could escape it all. Yet, the wish is yet another idea, part of the mind, and it seems as if there is no liberation from the voices in my head.

My soul, my essence, my spirit, has apparently decided it wants to play in the land of the Great Known. Here, everything is judged, defined, and falls under certain rules we must all live by. Judgment is a part of the breath of our physical form, for even the very act of being non-judgmental is an act of judging itself. Beneath the conscious parts of ourselves lies an undercurrent of patterned behaviors, of instilled thoughts and ideas that can only be vetted by the amount of suffering they cause. It seems as if the world around me is devoted to the act of suffering to the point where even the practice of detachment is devoted to it. We suffer in the fact that we must become detached from those things that make us suffer, never realizing that it is the suffering itself that is an arrow pointing toward places of pure joy. Yes, Eve, it is possible to revisit the Garden of Eden, but first you need to wake up from your nightmare.

I am fortunate. I live in a society where, traditionally, being white and having a penis is an immediate advantage. Yet I feel distinctly disadvantaged as I observe the suffering around me. I see men forgetting who they are, struggling daily to act like their fathers and the men who taught their fathers. I see the glorious power of women being trampled on by the fear and insecurity of men taught such things by their ancestors. I see children being victimized by those who love them the most as the shackles of ideology and culture are placed upon them, and see the wonderful wings of a child’s imagination clipped as they are taught they cannot be who they want to be, and they cannot do what they find great joy in doing.

Of course I generalize here, describing the things I see pejoratively in the largest part of the whole I have lived my entire life in. My memory brings back a time when I was a conservative white male and saw the world through those eyes. My, how the victims I see now were the victimizers then. My, how those with the least were trampled under the weight of my idea that they deserved to be. I remember how the poor were unworthy of my help, and how my white, male self was being victimized by the poor simply because I was forced to help them.

Today, of course, I have evolved and see things much differently. I’ve been wealthy and have lived the life of a wealthy, white man. I’ve had a gorgeous wife, a big house, fancy cars and money to spare. Yet, like a short-necked giraffe I could not reach the sustenance I needed even as I stood on the summit of the American dream. The fruit I needed to live was on a much higher place than I could reach, so something needed to change.

So, as is the case for most of us, something much more powerful than I took over. I lost my financial wealth and was forced to downsize a life that had gotten out of control, a process that continues even now. I lost the gorgeous wife, the fancy cars, and now live in relative simplicity. The talents that helped me accumulate wealth are still there, but my focus is now on what brings me joy. I write, I think, I protest, I work and I live to love my children. My children are not an aside to my workday, my workday is an aside to them. I have discovered the love of people I would have never known in my “past life”. I’ve taken charity, I’ve received and I have learned. I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned to tolerate. Most of all, I’ve learned to forgive and accept while always realizing that my choices are my power. There, I’ve learned much about responsibility that goes well beyond the type my ancestors taught me.

I may not die the millionaire I once sought to be, but I will die a wealthy man. I will die a liberated man no longer a slave to the story I once saw as “my truth”. Today, I see my truth in the fact that I am a perfectly fallible man, full of judgments and opinions and thoughts and ideas. I accept the fact that there are times when I will judge you harshly for your actions, but I also accept the fact that the gaps between such judgment and my forgiveness of it is narrowing quickly. Perhaps that is the role of judgment, to make us examine the gaps between the lower vibrations within us and the higher ones we seek to feel and how quickly those gaps close.

Right now I look to compassion and love for solutions that used to come in dollars and cents (no, not sense). I’m talking about real compassion and love, not the kind that says “I’m beating you with this stick because I love you,” or “starving people is compassion because it teaches them they need to fish.” Compassion, to me, is defined by what makes me smile in service of others, and love is defined by what raises those tiny little bumps on my skin. That’s all. It’s not about you as much as it is about me.

This is a new kind of selfishness that I define as a “pure and holy selfishness.” Here, my neck must lengthen not for the good of the herd, but so I can reach that fruit at the top of the tree that will keep me alive so that I may do some good for the herd. Here, my arms must widen so that I can hug you tighter. Here, I must be happy so that I can make you smile. It has to be about “me first” so that I can put YOU first. It’s a simple equation that goes something like this:

Ok, I’m just kidding. Actually, it is more like this:

I(x) = U(x)

If “x” is happy, well then I am happy and you are happy. But I have to be happy first. I can also make you upset if x= upset. See how easy that is?

I can even change your x simply by being a different x first and choosing to stay there. Yes, I now love math when it’s taught like this.

I can attest to the fact that this is not an easy road to travel. It’s rife with the pain and anguish many spend their time avoiding. I can understand the avoidance, and I know that when the Universe says it is time you will have no choice. It may not happen in this lifetime or even the next, but it will happen when your soul is ready to experience something new we profoundly call, “the truth.” One day you will wake up, swallow the red pill, and the pathway will change. Enjoy the journey, it is nothing but wonderful once the fog lifts and the sunlight warms your heart.

Peace.

It is the Sunrise

June 12, 2013 / Tom

There is a vile moment in your experience when you realize, for the first time, that she is not the woman you thought she was. The antidote for that poison is the awesome realization that you are not the man she thinks you are. The smile that crests your lips is the Sunrise.

There is that sickening moment when you realize that the one you’ve trusted most knows your every weakness, and is suddenly allied with those parts of you. There is relief in that beautiful moment when you realize that your weakness has always been your greatest strength. The tear that trails down your face is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you miss the ones you love and you’d give anything for one more hug, one more kiss, one more “I love you.” There is comfort found when the ones who love you hug you tightly, kiss you with joy, and scream to the listening world “I love you!” That comfort is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you look back at certain times in your life filled with sadness and despair and begin to feel them again. There is joy when you return to this moment and find it was all worth it. That joy is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you are filled with anger and your thoughts are focused on vengeance and retribution. You find strength when your breath returns and the gates of your heart open widely to let the love return. That strength is the Sunrise.

There are moments when you feel so lost that you are not certain you will ever find your way again. Find peace in the moment you realize just how found you are. That peace is the Sunrise.

Before every Sunrise comes the darkest part of night. Don’t wake up for the Sunrise, wake up for the darkest part that makes the Sunrise explode into your soul. Feel the coldest part of night before the warm light touches your skin. Know the dead silence of night before you hear the songbirds of the brand new day. There is so much beauty in those places we think are oh so ugly.

And the beauty we find? Well, that is the Sunrise.

Peace.

I Once Believed

May 21, 2013 / Tom

There was a time when I believed in something.

I believed that they were my family. I believed that I was their son. I believed that I meant something to them. I believed their words. I believed who I was to them. I was more than just some guy brought into their family. I believed I was loved. I found importance there, and I found meaning.

I believed that they were my friends. I believed that they liked me. I believed that they laughed with me and at my jokes. I believed they saw something in me even if I had not yet seen it in myself. I believed they had faith, that their smiles were genuine, and that their friendship was based on who I was. I found peace there, and I found importance.

I believed that she was forever. I believed that the scars would heal, that I would be “fixed” and she would forever be there. I believed in the power of love even if I had no real idea of what love was, and I believed in the imminence of forgiveness even if I was uncertain of how to forgive. I believed she could make the pieces whole, and that the power I had found in the beauty of her smile would make the dream real and the nightmare over.

I believed that I was broken. I believed that I needed them to fix me. I believed in the guilt that I felt with every breath, and the surety of failure that was my constant companion. I believed I needed them to show me strength, to prove my value, and to make me something more than I felt I was.

Yes, I believed. I believed I was nothing. I believe I was something the ground would tread on. I believed in the darkness and I only dreamed of the light. I repeated the mantra of weakness as I gave others power over me. I abdicated the throne given to me at birth, and I let others control the kingdom of my life.

I believed in them because I did not believe in myself. I needed them because I did not know who I was. I feared being alone because I did not know the awesome company I keep in myself.

Now, in their absence, in their denial, in their outright rejection I find a beautiful sunrise. I find health. I find peace. I find a strength unimaginable yesterday. I realize they are not gods, and that it is patently unfair to expect others to give me what I cannot give to myself.

Most of all, I find a love for me. I find a joy in being with me, and I find those things make me able to love those in my life without need for definitions, of roles, and of a commitment that neither feels right nor feels necessary. I find the power to be honest not only with those in my life, but with myself. I find a great acceptance of my flaws, of my strengths and of my humanness. I find my center easily because my focus is not diverted out there.

And I am happy. For the first time in my life I feel truly happy.

So, in some respects I am grateful their words were meaningless and their devotion unreal. I am grateful for the tremendous loss that has brought me here. “For I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.” I am happy to have sunk to the bedrock of my life so that I could find the truth there. I am grateful for the climb out of the pit, and for the fact that she was nothing more than a hollow promise that did not exist outside of a fantasy. I needed the loss, and I needed the pain in order to discover something far greater than I have ever known in my life.

So, in letting go I have found nothing to hold on to. I have found surety in the bedrock on which I once stood that showed me the beauty around me. The hug of my children. The truth in their words that come in the hallowed words “Daddy, I love you.” The ability to stand up for my truth regardless of what others would say or do. The indescribable feeling of sitting with my children in a “family sandwich” telling silly jokes until we simply can’t think of another word to say. Then we are still, as if on cue, the three of us simply listening to whatever direction the Universe sends us in. We can find great joy in our sandwich, and we can find great joy in our aloneness because we are not defined by any of it.

I have discovered that I am whole, and that I am a perfect being even in my imperfectness. I need not be fixed for there is nothing broken. Yes, I laugh out loud at the thought that I needed anyone to be fixed. Now my choices are mine and mine alone. I no longer need have faith in anyone even though I have found faith in many. I no longer need pretend and fake a smile in the storm of false accusations and innuendo. Let them throw their stones, for my choice is to smile purely into the heart of their anger and speak my own truth regardless of what they do.

There is love here…much love, and it is now directed in the right place. Yes, there is great promise here.

Gun Control is an Act of Love

December 15, 2012 / Tom

Remorse. Sadness. Grief. Disbelief.

And anger. I can’t forget about the anger regardless of how much I want to.

Those are just some of the very human emotions that overwhelmed me as listened to the news about the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut. Just some of them. To list them all would create something unreadable.

As I sat on I-95 near Philadelphia heading home from a long day at the office, I wept openly. Visions of my own children danced in my head. Visions of children everywhere flooded my mind. Those smiling faces, those wondering minds, those innocent souls. I could hear the banter flowing through those classrooms on what should have been just another Friday as children transformed into students eagerly anticipating a holiday season. I could imagine parents not unlike myself rushing around that morning, trying to get their children ready for a school day while trying to get themselves ready for a busy day at work. I could imagine parents who, had they known this would be the last time they would see their babies, may have forsaken all worldly endeavors for those final few moments of complete presence in lives they had a large part in creating.

Yes, our worldly endeavors seem a bit silly in those moments when we are faced with the loss of innocence and the finality of death. The Eagles losing yet another game is forgotten. The need to make end-of-year sales numbers seems meaningless when the idea of a tiny casket flashes across your mind. The arguments between lovers becomes very unimportant when the knowledge that one day you will not be with her and that one day physical and intellectual separation will be permanent. In truth, very little seems important when faced with mortality, particularly when it is the mortality of our children, our innocence, our posterity.

We fear permanence even more than we fear impermanence. The only thing that is permanent in our human experience is death, and we seem to fear that more than we fear anything else. It rattles us, not only because we don’t know what is coming afterward, but because it is so final. We not only fear our own deaths, we fear the death of our loved ones. Yet, it wasn’t death that found me weeping on a busy highway during rush hour, it was the death of innocence and of promise. It was knowing that each and every one of those children senselessly killed likely had no idea of what death was. It was knowing that each and every one of those sweet angels was left relatively unprotected despite deserving our fiercest shelter. It was knowing the fear they must have felt, and it was in feeling the ultimate betrayal as the shooter did the Devil’s work. How utterly devoid of compassion he must have been; how much hatred he must have held on to. It is quite unimaginable to, fortunately, the vast majority of us.

Now, I’d rather not focus on the man who destroyed so much in such a small period of time. Instead, I want to focus on the reaction many of us had to his horrifying actions. Many of us found love overflowing from our eyes. We found compassion pouring out of us. We found empathy, sympathy, and new-found purpose in each tiny droplet of salty water that made its way into air. We found that piece of ourselves that sometimes gets lost in the hustle and bustle of the illusion in which we “live”. We discovered a piece of truth in the lie, and will hold on to that truth at least for a little while. We will hug our lovers tighter tonight. We will be more present with our children. We will be more present with ourselves.

So, when I am asked “why?” I know what to say. I have no idea why a 20-year old man would lose his grip on his own humanity and divinity. Yet, those children did not die in vain if we, even for one second, pause to be more present in our lives and in our loves. Those children did not die in vain if the final words I say to my own loves is “I love you”. This understanding gives the very thing I can’t understand some understanding. It gives the senseless some meaning. It gives those of us who are doubting some sense of hope. That’s “why” my friends. So, get to it and don’t let those beautiful souls leave our consciousness while we have a chance to make good on the very thing that makes us who we are.

Make love like you have never made love before. Embrace each other like it is the last time you will feel those arms around you. Absorb the “daddy” and “mommy” moments fully as if they will be the last. Don’t live in fear of the end, embrace it and make it meaningful in your daily experience. Don’t go to bed angry with those you love. Don’t do anything that will sour your epithet. Don’t hug anger, hug love and don’t let go. Fight for it. Feel it. And cherish every moment you get to share it.

Love, laugh and live fully. Help others love, laugh and live fully. Let’s get rid of the need for instruments of death in our lives. Let’s cherish life and the living more than we cherish material things. Start saying “no” to your boss and “yes” to your family. Get high if you want. Whatever. Just start fucking living.

This is not an admonition to you. This is an admonition to me that I simply want to share with you. You are free to do as you please. Me, I want to have no regrets at the end of the last day I share with someone. I want to know I lived it all fully, even the bitter moments, and that in the end I’ve loved more fully than I’ve feared.

I am sure that soon enough we will see the smiling faces of those beautiful babies flashing across our televisions and computer screens. We will hear wonderful stories of victims, their families, and their own unique promise. We will cry again at the sight of young, smiling faces and we will make resolutions to end lunacy and seek love as our shelter. We will live, even for an instant, in the warm and loving embrace of knowing ourselves as more than money, more than ideology, and more than nationality. We will find our own promise and potential before settling back into our very human roles of forgetful man as the memory of those smiling faces fades.

I will also remember that the killer himself was once one of those smiling faces, and I will wonder what drove him to such darkness. I will wonder because I don’t want any other child to lose that part of himself that makes him both human and loving divinity. We all deserve our own sense of innocence, and it is time we start treating our children like they remind us of our own innocence and freedom. Children are not afterthoughts, they are not nuisances that keep us from work or our favorite reality shows. They are not weapons, and they are not punching bags. They are wonderful creations that we had some part in, and as such deserve not just the best of who we are as individuals, but also the best of who we are as a society. We owe it to them to pass laws that ensure that it is far less likely that they will be staring down the barrel of a firearm as they cry for a mommy and daddy who aren’t there to protect them.

Yes, I am done being on the fence about gun control. I’m done seeing the “right to bear arms” as equally important to the right of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Those children lost their rights to life. They lost their rights to liberty. They lost their rights to happiness as a madman pulled the trigger over and over again of a weapon he had the right to own. Gun control is not about the erosion of American rights, it is about the guarantee of them. So, fuck you, fuck your need to own a semi-automatic rifle and multiple handguns. You only have two hands, and I doubt Nancy Lanza could have shot both handguns while handling a semi-automatic rifle in the process.

Face it, 27 people, including 20 innocent school children, could have been alive today if our government and We the People had the balls to get rid of guns as a “right” and, instead, made it impossible to get them. End the War on Drugs, that failed social experiment that only ensures more of us spend time in jail than ever before, and begin the War on Guns. Empty our prisons of drug users and fill them with gun owners who fail to see that they have absolutely no reason to own firearms if no one else does.

See, Nancy Lanza was not going to go hunting. She obviously did not find protection in the guns she owned as her son gunned her down. In fact, the guns she owned ended up killing her, so I’m sure if given a Mulligan she’d probably take them back even without a refund. I’m sure she loved the children in her class, so I doubt she felt the Second Amendment worth the lives of 20 of them as well as 6 of her colleagues. I doubt as she faced her end she thought of Charlton Heston and his famous “out of my cold, dead fingers” pronouncement.

I will not use the term “rest in peace” for those children and brave adults who died on December 14^th in Connecticut. That’s offensive to the very nature of the crime committed against them. Rather, we should have been blessing them with a “live in peace” on December 13^th. We should have ensured their safety then, not given it lips service now. Prayers and love and compassion are meaningless to them now, but how much could it have meant to them Thursday? Yeah, that’s what I mean. Tomorrow is too late. Now is what matters.

And for Pete’s sake let’s stop being married to an ideal written 250 years ago in a document that was meant to be changed when necessary. It is necessary now, more than ever, to rid ourselves of the scourge of firearms in this nation. Our children deserve it, and we, as loving, caring, and intelligent adults need to ensure we protect them within a society that demands change. Yes, our society is demanding change. That is evident in the gun violence that is destroying us from within.

It is so evident that all we need to is review the gun violence over the last 10 years and ask, “how is that Second Amendment working out for you?” I’d say not at all. It’s time to move beyond the ideas that violence is the answer (that isn’t really working out for us either) and toward something a little harder to do but much more rewarding (as Gandhi and the independent India he helped give birth to without firing ONE SINGLE SHOT proved). I love Gandhi and his example because he was a tiny, diminutive man who successfully rebelled against a world superpower without ever owning a gun. It’s time we follow that example and bury Charlton Heston’s somewhere far away where we never need look at it again.

For now, I will follow other people who are crying, praying and empathizing with those victims of gun violence who decided to follow the pursuit of happiness rather than the right to bear arms and were shot in the process. Yet I will not let this fire within me be buried with those victims. Instead, I will use it to work toward ensuring that we create no other victims for the stupidity of a few who love the power of shooting something so dearly. It’s time to end the lunacy, and never forget those who died for nothing more than an ideal.

Parenthood

August 11, 2011 / tomgrasso

“The torture of parenthood is in knowing that at some moment our children will start doing what we once believed was right.

The joy of parenthood is in knowing that at some moment our children will start doing what we found was right.”~Tom Grasso

The Joy of Family

Is Feeding Kids Fast “Food” Child Abuse?

June 27, 2011 / tomgrasso

I was recently blessed by a friend who shared with me an article on the ingredients found in the very popular McDonald’s chicken nugget. Now I am not one who desires to

Nope, no foam here!! (Source: NaturalNews.com)

stop anyone from doing anything to themselves, that is not my intention at all. I love freedom, and believe in my heart that we should all have the right to do to ourselves as we wish. It’s the “do unto others” thing that has me drawing the line.

You can read the article titled Anti-foaming agent found in Chicken McNuggets here. It’s informative and sheds some light on the hidden chemicals that we are calling “food” nowadays. As an Indian guru just told us at a seminar, “your body is not a trash can, so stop putting garbage in it!”

An Important Disclaimer

The intention I had for writing this was not for us to label each other as “abusers” or to pass judgment of any kind. Rather, I want the reader to understand this as distinctly personal and to have an “inner dialog” that leads to an outer dialog. If we can agree with the premise that what we feed our kids is an outward show of the love we have for them, then perhaps we can have the discussion on how we feed them.

This is not a cause to enact laws that label, but hopefully make the need for such laws unnecessary. By shining light on what may be some darkness, perhaps we can find an awareness that changes the effects of our behavior to date.

There is evidence that our dietary behaviors are harmful. There is evidence that our children are suffering under our current dietary behaviors and that we, as parents, are not identifying that evidence and changing those behaviors. As you read this, resist the urge to label yourself or others, and just take a look at the evidence and what it may mean in your life and in the lives of those you love.

America, the Land of Dichotomy

If you look at our society it is one of fat. This is odd because we seem to also have a fear of fat. We also have a fear of dying, which is odd because we also live in the unhealthy extreme that seems to suggest we can’t wait to die. We are a chemically dependent culture that also has a war being waged on chemical dependence; we support a drug culture while waging war on drug use. We complain loudly about the soaring costs of health care while doing very little to prevent needing it. So, as I read this article the dilemma I had was not of shutting down fast food made like these Chicken Nuggets, but on shutting down the effects this food has on our children. Individual adults have the freedom (in my mind) to eat, smoke, drink or do whatever they want as long as it does not directly effect anyone else including their children. It is a moral imperative of mine to ensure you can do what you want when you want it as long as it meets those parameters. So, stock up on fast food if you want. Eat three meals a day of sodium aluminum phosphate if you want. You will not only hear silence from me while doing it, you will get my support if someone else tries to stop you.

Yet when I look at the children of this nation suffering under the weight of fast food and its effects I wonder when to draw the line. If parents aren’t willing to stop feeding their

A Parent's Responsibility: "When I grow up, I want to be just like Mom!"

children this poison, is it society’s responsibility to stop them? Or have we, the society that fears fat while contemplating which Value Meal to order, simply unwilling to be hypocrites here? Are we unwilling to show our particular weakness to our children; the one that says “do as I say, not as I do because I am too weak to stop myself?” Or are we a society that is just incapable of giving the love to our children that we are unwilling to show to ourselves?

Remember, fast food is just not found at a local fast food restaurant. Look in the pantry…you may find a ton of fast food that escapes your awareness because YOU put it in the microwave and not some cook in a back room somewhere. Look at the ingredients on the package…is this something YOU would add to your child’s meal if YOU were making it from scratch? That answer will tell you plenty, and it will help you begin the dialog necessary to discover what our true values are.

Time to Talk

I am not bright enough to answer these questions, but I am bright enough to ask them. These are individual values at work here people, with the strength and morality of the individual shining through either on line at your local fast food joint on in the act of driving right past it. Yet it does seem the time is upon us to at least start to talk about these things. It’s time to discover what actually gets us to walk through the door knowing what we know. Is it arrogance? Is it ignorance? Is it a collective “addictive personality”? Is it laziness? Or is it just that we don’t really understand what we truly value?

Could we be just stating what we think others want to hear? That we want health? That we dislike being fat? Perhaps we are just saying those things because it sounds good and we think our neighbor, spouse, parent or child wants to hear them? Has a society that has a long held belief that peace is achievable through war simply just that good at fooling itself?

Regardless of your individual answer, the real question that we must pose to the collective is “what do we do about it?” It is time we all sit down in whatever configuration that works and have a respectful and dynamic dialog. Yes, I know, I may be dreaming that we could even begin on those simple terms, but we have to at least try to get things rolling, don’t we? We seem to have much more at stake here than just some quick meal that gives us the runs for a few days.

It’s OK to the FDA!

I, for one, can tell you that I do care about not only my children, but our children. I also can tell you that FDA approval of the junk in this “food” is meaningless to me. I trust the Taliban as much as I trust the FDA or USDA at this point. Their stamp of approval simply means “buyer beware” in my mind. Now, I don’t want to get all down on the FDA and USDA, but let’s just say that, in my opinion, if we had Kim Jung-Il administering our food protection programs I would feel equally at ease. Yet, I am not sure we should need these acronomized (my word) affronts to common sense in order to make the right choices. Do we really need processed meat to satisfy us? Do we really need deep fried vegetables to fill us up? Or are FDA and USDA approvals nothing more than the “rubber stamp” we need to make bad decisions? What motivates us, as individuals, to purchase and eat something we know is not good for us?

I suggest to you that our actions speak much louder about our intentions than do our words. I would also suggest to you that the arguments of “freedom” are invalid here. Again, I believe you should be able to put rat poison on a sandwich if you want ONLY if you are the only one going to eat it. The issue is not of choice for me, it is of protection. Our children honor us often by following our example, but if the Pied Piper would lead them into the sea, who should be there to stop them? If it is society’s responsibility to save children from harm when does that responsibility end? What defines abuse? Let’s leave that to part of the discussion, shall we?

Is Obesity Abusive?

Statistics from the Center for Disease Control seem to tell a horror story in the making. The most recent statistics available suggest that nearly 1 in 5 children and adolescents who live in the United States are obese. Even more startling, that is triple the rate only a generation ago! Today, for every 20 kids in a classroom, 4 of them are considered obese under federal guidelines. This doesn’t even address those that would be considered overweight by those guidelines. That’s a tremendous figure considering that human beings are rarely more active than they are when they are children, and these developmental years are vitally important for the adult they will become. If they are overweight and obese at this young age, what does that suggest for the majority of these children and their health as they head into adulthood?

Also, a recent report released by the Institute of Medicine on June 21 provides some horrifying statistics. The report states that rates of excess weight and obesity among U.S. children ages 2 to 5 have doubled since the 1980s, and that about 10 percent of children from infancy up to age 2 years and a little more than 20 percent of children ages 2 to 5 are overweight or obese! If those number don’t jump out at you, I don’t know what will.

The CDC also lists a variety of health risks for obese children. The website gives an overview that is pretty intense when you look at our limited understanding of what is to come.

Health risks now

Childhood obesity can have a harmful effect on the body in a variety of ways. Obese children are more likely to have–

High blood pressure and high cholesterol, which are risk factors for cardiovascular disease (CVD). In one study, 70% of obese children had at least one CVD risk factor, and 39% had two or more.²

Increased risk of impaired glucose tolerance, insulin resistance and type 2 diabetes.³

Breathing problems, such as sleep apnea, and asthma.^4,5

Joint problems and musculoskeletal discomfort.^4,6

Fatty liver disease, gallstones, and gastro-esophageal reflux (i.e., heartburn).^3,4

Obese children and adolescents have a greater risk of social and psychological problems, such as discrimination and poor self-esteem, which can continue into adulthood.^3,7,8

Health risks later

Obese children are more likely to become obese adults.^{9, 10, 11} Adult obesity is associated with a number of serious health conditions including heart disease, diabetes, and some cancers.¹²

If children are overweight, obesity in adulthood is likely to be more severe.¹³

References

Barlow SE and the Expert Committee. Expert committee recommendations regarding the prevention, assessment, and treatment of child and adolescent overweight and obesity: summary report. Pediatrics 2007;120 Supplement December 2007:S164—S192.

Freedman DS, Mei Z, Srinivasan SR, Berenson GS, Dietz WH. Cardiovascular risk factors and excess adiposity among overweight children and adolescents: the Bogalusa Heart Study. J Pediatr. 2007;150(1):12—17.e2.

Whitlock EP, Williams SB, Gold R, Smith PR, Shipman SA. Screening and interventions for childhood overweight: a summary of evidence for the US Preventive Services Task Force.Pediatrics. 2005;116(1):e125—144.

Han JC, Lawlor DA, Kimm SY. Childhood obesity. Lancet. May 15 2010;375(9727):1737—1748.

Sutherland ER. Obesity and asthma. Immunol Allergy Clin North Am. 2008;28(3):589—602, ix.

Taylor ED, Theim KR, Mirch MC, et al. Orthopedic complications of overweight in children and adolescents. Pediatrics. Jun 2006;117(6):2167—2174.

Dietz W. Health consequences of obesity in youth: Childhood predictors of adult disease.Pediatrics 1998;101:518—525.

Swartz MB and Puhl R. Childhood obesity: a societal problem to solve. Obesity Reviews 2003; 4(1):57—71.

Biro FM, Wien M. Childhood obesity and adult morbidities. Am J Clin Nutr. May 2010;91(5):1499S—1505S.

Whitaker RC, Wright JA, Pepe MS, Seidel KD, Dietz WH. Predicting obesity in young adulthood from childhood and parental obesity. N Engl J Med 1997;37(13):869—873.

Serdula MK, Ivery D, Coates RJ, Freedman DS. Williamson DF. Byers T. Do obese children become obese adults? A review of the literature. Prev Med 1993;22:167—177.

National Institutes of Health. Clinical Guidelines on the Identification, Evaluation, and Treatment of Overweight and Obesity in Adults: the Evidence Report. Bethesda, MD: National Institutes of Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services; 1998.

Freedman DS, Khan LK, Dietz WH, Srinivasan SR, Berenson GS. Relationship of childhood overweight to coronary heart disease risk factors in adulthood: The Bogalusa Heart Study.Pediatrics 2001;108:712—718.

Seeing this, I am left to wonder what we as a society find permissible when it comes to the health of our children. Are behaviors that cause high blood pressure in children that are not only permitted by parents but are also encouraged a form of child abuse? Is a dietary regimen created by parents that fosters cardiovascular disease in children and major health complications later in life tantamount to a destructive parent/child relationship? Essentially, the question that keeps coming to my mind is whether or not we, as a society, have a responsibility to those children who are apparently unprotected in regards to their health. How do we, as a collective, look at ourselves in our twilight years as children begin to die before their parents because we neglected the importance of a healthy diet today?

Frankly, I simply am not sure what the answer is. I just know the answer we have now, which seems to be silence, is not working. Is it coincidence that our health and fitness are declining as our dependence on fast food seems to increase? I can’t say for sure at this point, but I can say for sure that we owe it to our children as a collective society to do much better by them.

A Time to Change?

The Tao te Ching says “First realize that you are sick; then you can move toward health.” It seems as if we are beginning to realize that we are sick, but I am often left to wonder if we are understanding why we are sick. If we set a table devoid of store-bought scientists and big-business nutritional “experts”, could we as a people develop an

It's time to change, the signs all say so!

understanding as to why we are the sickest and most drug-dependent society on the planet? Could we look at data that suggests that nations that are beginning to adopt our dietary habits are becoming sicker as well and see a correlation?

I hope so. I hope we can look at evidence ourselves without the bias of pre-paid science and big business propaganda and come to a conclusion that best suits us in relation to our discovered values. In the meantime, let’s see what we can do to protect our children from our fast food addiction, and stem the tide of poor health moving into younger generations. It is our responsibility, isn’t it? I sure hope so.

One final thing. The opinions here, unless stated otherwise, are mine and mine alone based on a certain amount of knowledge and a vast amount of experience. They are opinions only unless otherwise stated, and certainly are not meant to do anything but stimulate the common sense of those who find the time, energy and desire to read them. PEACE! 🙂

A Conversation with Mike

June 25, 2011 / tomgrasso

Dad, guess who?

My 4 year old son, Mike, is a special kind of guy. First, he is my son, which makes him special regardless of how many spiritual teachings I hear to the contrary. Second, he seems to have his eyes wide open and his head on a swivel. His open eyes allow him to focus intently on any given topic, while the “head on a swivel” means that such intense focus comes in only short spans. Even though the attention is short, he absorbs nearly everything a 4 year old can in that brief moment of attention. The following is an excerpt from a pretty brief conversation we had; a conversation that made the student the teacher and the teacher, well, astounded.

We were driving to my daughter’s dance recital. The radio was off, giving us both time to talk to each other and to share the ride without distraction. This portion of the discussion went went something like this:

Mike: Dad, I want to go play tennis.

Me: Really Mike? Where’d you learn how to play tennis?

Mike: In my brain (he still pronounces his “r”s as “w”s, adding to the cuteness of his methodology).

Me: Wow, so you learned how to play tennis in your brain?

Mike: Yeah Dad, and I could kill you with the ball!

Me: Mike, why would you want to do that?

Ok, so not very spiritual and not very peaceful but that’s my Mike. A more sensitive boy you’ll never meet, even if he says he want to join the Army to “kill bad guys”. See, he

Before I slay you, did you order the pepperoni or the mushroom?

follows that statement with, “and I want to be a pizza delivery boy so I can help people get their food.” Needless to say I am not that concerned at this stage about him becoming a Special Operative who assassinates bad guys in between deliveries of a large cheese with mushrooms. One of those I can certainly see him doing as the kind of boy he is now. The other? Well let’s just say I don’t see high-powered rifles and black makeup in his future. Of course, I could be wrong.

So, to continue our conversation. As I mentioned, his head is on a swivel as we pass an exclusive country club. There are people putting on a green near the highway.

Mike: Dad, is that golf?

Me: Sure is Mike. You like golf?

Mike: When we are done at Gianna’s dance thing, can we go there to play golf?

Me: I don’t think so Bud. That is a club that only allows members, and your Dad doesn’t want to pay to be a member.

Mike: Can I pay then?

Me: Sure Mike. Go get a job and earn the money. Then, if you decide you want to use that money to pay for a membership you can.

Mike: Dad, can you get me a job?

Me: Depends. Do you have any skills?

Mike: I have lots of skills. I can go potty, I can put on my shoes, I can cut down trees, and I can pick flowers. I can talk to birdies too, watch…

(rolls down car window and draws that focus on a robin sitting on the curb next to the traffic light we are stopped at)

Mike: tweet tweet tweet…oops scared him away. Dad I can scare birds. Tweet tweet tweet!!

Me: Mike, those are some cool skills. What others do you have?

Mike: I told you I can cut down trees and flowers. (Laughs) I can’t cut down flowers Dad, but I can pick them. (I laugh because I know Mike would cry if he ever hurt a tree).

Me: Well, maybe soon you can get a job. Then you can earn money and decide how to use it.

Mike: Dad, can we get ice cream?

I bet you can't see me, can you?

I love that swivel. I used to have one until adulthood stole it from me. How can I get it back? I mean I wonder when I made life so difficult and stopped seeing it in such simple terms as my 4 year old son. When did I make life so difficult? Probably when I decided that I needed a car to get to dance recitals and kids to do the dancing. I guess in most aspects I would not trade any of my life for the short attention span and swivel my son now enjoys. No, now is his time to use those gifts, and my time to allow him to use them. Someday it will be much different for him, but his Dad will always remember a simpler time when Army men delivered pizzas in their spare time (or was it the other way around?). I will remember these special little moments that not only remind me of who I am, but also of a world long left behind. It will be moments like this when I fondly remember the boy who stopped chasing butterflies and started chasing dreams.

Peace.