I am not much of a conversationalist…not really adept in the art of small talk and casual verbal exchanges. I am much better at one-way communication (I deliver; you receive; questions afterward; thanks for playing), and I thoroughly enjoy a passionate debate. But…these are often not the best communication styles when dealing with children. Especially teenagers. It is easier when they are younger. The conversations can be about anything and can (and often do) spring up from out of nowhere during the most unexpected moments. Their interests are innocuous, so there is no reluctance to say whatever is on their minds at the time, and there is no perceived threat when asked about their day or when pressed for details. You can be silly and ridiculous and it’s appreciated, it’s funny. When they break into the teen-years though, there becomes a sudden need for privacy. They want to introduce boundaries to conversational topics. Simple questions can be viewed as interrogations. The nonsensical things that were once hilarious are now lame. The rules seem to change; and the communication approach has to change along with them. I knew I would have to adjust my style or risk widening the communication gap I could see developing between me and Logan.
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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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No parking lot attendant. No check in station. No makeshift lot on a vacant parcel of land opportunistically guarded by an enterprising local. Just an empty space on a side lawn in a well kept neighborhood; there was no crowd and no hassle. We unloaded the kids and the gear and made our way past one of the stately homes down the side street toward the beach. The paved road came to a dead end quickly, and a gravelly path guided us toward a walkway that seemed to disappear into a grassy dune. We strolled our way up the sandy boardwalk; our path beset by reeds and wildflowers until the trail crested and the planks beneath our feet gave way to a sugary mound of soft warm sand. The stroller sunk down into the sand, but the mound sloped downward enough to allow gravity to lend a hand as we descended into a yawning entry and were introduced to the Atlantic Ocean.
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September 25th, 2009
bdye
Last night I discovered that Jaden would rather eat snake guts than fried worms, and that he’d rather sleep in a pasture of cow manure than on an ant hill. I found out that Dillon would rather be trapped on an island than on a mountain top, and that he would rather be bitten by a fire ant than eat fire.
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September 15th, 2009
bdye
It was just after 8:00 that Tuesday morning when I received the call in my office. Kendra was audibly distressed and doing her best to hold it together for the boys. I anticipated the phone call. Ethan was going to be dropped off with my parents for the first time so Kendra could spend the morning volunteering in the classroom. We spoke to Ethan about it the night before as well as that morning. But as much as he smiled and nodded to the news of spending time at Nana and Papa’s house, it was clear he had his own interpretation of what was being said when the time came to say goodbye to momma. To borrow from the Good Book, there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth…and that was just from Kendra. Read more…
