There was a discussion topic on leadership that was introduced in one of my meetings a few months ago. It was a theme that I had heard before with different subjects, but the question was often posed in the same manner – if you were accused of being X (in this case a good leader), would there be enough evidence to convict you? The premise is that the audience, in silence, will take mental inventory of their achievements or actions against a given standard and either receive some affirmation or realize a gap exists and develop a plan to mitigate. Without fail, participants begin to nod thoughtfully as they appear to mentally check off every positive attribute and smile subtly to suggest that not only would there be enough evidence, but that the jury would return the verdict within a matter of seconds and ask openly why there was any question in the first place. While I love the confidence, I often find myself at odds with the individual assessments going on around me. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to realize that in all of our endeavors there is room for improvement… that whatever level of mastery we have achieved to this point only signals progress, not arrival. Otherwise, we are fooling ourselves or robbing ourselves by buying into the lie of complacency. So, with that in mind, I began to contemplate. Not about leadership, but about fatherhood. The questions lingered… would anyone accuse me of being a good father? would there be any evidence to support the accusation? I couldn’t say. It’s been several weeks weighing on my mind… I just don’t know.
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When I was around 4 years old, I convinced a couple of my friends to join me in eating a few berries from the plants that grew on the grounds of our pre-school. We would pass the orange/yellowish berries on the way to and from recess most days, and also on the walk to the main center where we awaited parent pick up. I rationalized that they must be safe to eat. These looked like berries a forest creature would love, so why not give them a try, right? I believe my official position was something like, “well, bears eat ‘em” (Hey, they bought this argument too, so…). We hesitated initially… then the, “You first. No YOU first. No you. You. How many?” exchange ensued. Read more…
It started with Logan as curious sessions about the nighttime sky… there’s the moon… stars twinkle… planets shine. Both of us getting lost in the impossibility of counting those glimmering objects and embracing the beauty of the tapestry above us. Those were some of our earlier bonding moments. The practice gained a little formality with Jaden and Dillon. We would venture out before bed time to wave goodnight to the moon, and point out the constellations and planets we could observe from our driveway. If the moon was not visible, we would check all sides of the house to seek it out. As they got older, we would begin to speculate why the moon might not be visible on a particular night. Read more…
My kids love chocolate milk. Love it. Life expectancy for a bottle of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup in our house doesn’t even register in minutes (it was Nestle Quick powder for me when I was a kid). I was watching the other day as Kendra performed the chocolate milk ballet, set to the sounds of Ethan blindly grasping for spoons in a drawer he can open but with contents he cannot see – refrigerator door open, lift milk, step-turn-spin-kick, door swings shut, step, dodge-running-child, hop-toy-raise-milk, catch falling glass (pause – whew!), step, turn, spin, rest. Then the pouring. Then comes the spoon, and the rhythmic, whirring, clicking process that pulls all that chocolate off the bottom and off the sides and makes one great treat from two good things that would otherwise exist separately. Read more…
Kendra and I had a homework assignment from Jaden’s and Dillon’s new teacher due on the first day of school. We needed to write a letter to the teacher about each of their talents and characteristics. We had done similar assignments before with Logan, and may even have done something like this for them last year or in Pre-School. But somehow this one bothered me… as they get older, I grow increasingly concerned about people taking shortcuts in learning who they are. Any action I perceive as someone trying to compartmentalize them is immediately met by me with resistance…slowly approaching mild hostility. I understand that they are identical, and that it can be difficult to distinguish one from the other solely on appearance. But after spending any time with them, and making an effort to know either of them, it becomes apparent almost immediately who each is based on mannerisms or expressions, even posture! Each definitely has his own light… Read more…
