• The sea of negative campaign advertising

• The nasty rhetoric

• The power-seeking motives behind campaigns

• The billionaires who try to buy elections

• Your understandable pessimism for the state or our country

And instead embrace:

• Your own positive intention

• The example you set to others with your “I voted” sticker

• Your belief in democracy

• The satisfaction knowing how much money someone wasted trying to buy your vote

• The momentary power you hold to make a difference

How we see our democracy impacts how we engage in it. Believing that we don’t make a difference can cause us to stay home. Believing that we do, inspires us to pull that lever.

Only 43% of Americans voted in the last midterm elections. That might seem depressing, yet that represents over 120 million people. As of Oct 27th, over 34 million had already cast their ballot through early voting this year.

The humanitarian, Arthur Ashe, famously said, “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”

In other words, vote.

This week’s recommendation. Check out this celebration on the streets. At first blush you might think, they are celebrating a sports championship. They are not, they are celebrating an election in Brazil.

Consider sharing this with someone who might need a nudge or a ride to the polls.

Halloween is just around the corner. Its origin dates back over 2000 years. Its celebration in the United States is connected to the Irish Potato Famine when millions of Irish and Scots fled their homelands in search of a better life - bringing their “All Hallows” celebration with them.

The word scared did not enter our vocabulary until hundreds of years after Halloween. To be scared is to have a visceral response to what we perceive as a clear and present danger. It is a feeling connected with the present. It is not to be confused with “worry” - a what if feedback loop that is more associated with an uncertain future.

It is worth noting that the use of “scare” in writing has increased 700% since 1980.

The 1980s brought us stranger danger, fear of nuclear war and the introduction of slasher flicks. Since then the world seems like an even scarier place. This is despite the fact that by most measures it is the safest time in the history of the world to be alive.

Part of why it seems scary is because scaring people is also quite profitable, The average American spends $115 on Halloween. Horror films are the fastest growing genre in the film industry. Studies show 80-90% of news coverage is on negative events, conflict, crime, disasters, or systemic problems. Eight billion dollars are spent during a traditional election cycle intended to make you afraid of a political candidate.

When I was younger, I was scared of many things. Some for very good reasons. As I’ve gotten older I’ve tried to understand where this fear comes from. To distinguish present fear from future worry. To separate real from imagined. To appreciate what I can and cannot control. To see when someone is trying to scare me for their own gain.

So I’m no longer scared of roller coasters because statistically I understand they are generally safe and in ninety seconds I’ll be back where I started. I don’t like to watch horror movies and when I do I realize they are fake and appreciate the thrill of a jump scare. I try to avoid political news or advertising and when I do see them I understand that one is trying to turn my fear into ratings and the other to repress my instinct to vote.

When someone tries to scare me about AI, I read more to learn about how it really works - which assuages my fear. This is the equivalent of checking under your bed to make sure there are no monsters when you’re a child.

There are very real and understandable reasons why people are scared today; uncertain health diagnosis for yourself or a loved one, an immigrant in America afraid of being targeted or deported, a family in the Ukraine knowing that one person can render their defense systems useless, people living in conflict areas around the world or how have experienced assault or discrimination. All these and many more like them represent clear and present dangers. I am sorry if you are experiencing any of them and don’t mean to diminish your very real feelings.

Yet, fortunately, most of us are not living in those conditions. Still we fear.

When we are scared we can freeze or panic. We can fight or flight. The operative word is “can.” Often being scared makes us feel paralyzed but the reality is we can do something about it. We can evaluate or reduce risk. We can see who benefits from scaring us or when we are being manipulated. We can avoid those things that most scare us. We can confront our fears or find comfort in sharing them with others.

In writing this, I discovered this quiz, “How Many Things Are You Afraid Of?” It is more playful than comprehensive, yet still I find it instructive upon reflection. The first time I took it, I checked only a few boxes for what I’m currently scared of. The second time, I checked all the things I used to be scared of. The differences were pretty startling. Demonstrating that one of the hopeful things about being scared is that most of our worst fears are never realized and that even when they are we have the ability to overcome it.

Recommendation of the Week: Over the last year, I’ve been dipping in and out of the show, Shrinking. It follows a group of therapists grappling with their own issues and fears. Harrison Ford is particularly excellent in letting down his own guard and sharing his vulnerabilities as his character grapples with Parkinson’s.

Share this with a friend who might need to talk about what is scaring them.

Or maybe the first time you tied your shoes on your own?

Perhaps you felt a sense of freedom or accomplishment. These feelings were probably preceded by moments of frustration or fear as you fell or didn’t quite get the bunny ears (laces) to cooperate.

When was the last time you experienced that same learning curve? One that began with struggle and ended with a sense of pride or self-satisfaction.

Recently a student told me that she hadn’t done as well on a test as she hoped but that after talking to the professor she understood what she got wrong. The result was that she felt good about the test - because she learned.

Everyday presents us with opportunities to learn. Many of which can involve some level of difficulty.

When we learn something new, our brains do at least two things. It releases a little dopamine hit - helping us feel good. And our hippocampus actually grows a little by generating new neurons.

The benefits of effortful learning strengthens our memory, forges new connections and keeps our brains from shrinking - which can also stave off depression.

In our schools, learning can too often feel like an unexciting chore. Rote memorization, racing to get through material that will be on the test where the primary measurement is a grade not growth.

To use a metaphor I heard recently, learning should not be the filling of a bucket, but the lighting of a fire.

What lights your fire? Or your child’s?

When we share what we learn with others it has the potential to spark their interest as well. We literally could help make their brains grow or give them a quick dopamine boost.

Learn something new today. Light your fire and maybe even someone else’s.

This Week’s Recommendation: One of my favorite shows is Antiques Roadshow on PBS. People come in with various family heirlooms to learn from an expert about its origin, history and worth. I find it fascinating and I learn something new every time I put it on.

Share this with someone and ask them what they’ve learned recently.

In the early fall, high schools, colleges and universities across the country celebrate homecoming. This tradition began at the collegiate level in the late 1800’s as a way to welcome back alumni. It expanded to high schools in the 1920’s and 1930’s.

Of course, homecoming also conveys a broader meaning. We celebrate homecomings when members of the military return from service. In certain religions, a pilgrimage is a form of spiritual homecoming. Parents await long weekends or breaks when their children come home from college.

Coming home brings connection, pride, warmth and belonging - whether it be on a campus or a different type of community.

Robert Frost once wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

This weekend happens to be our high school’s homecoming. It is a week filled with spirit, night games, and celebration - regardless of what the scoreboard says.

It also marks my oldest daughter’s first return home from college. It is amazing how good it feels to simply have her in our presence again. Ordinary events like seeing her in her familiar seat at the dining room table, watching her gab with her sisters, sitting beside us on the couch watching Ted Lasso or just wishing her good night as she goes off to bed - all feel somehow special.

I have not given my own mother that special feeling nearly enough.

It is estimated that 25%-35% of children who move away from home return to stay. Almost 60% of children end up living within ten miles of their parents.

If only I could be so lucky when my children are grown.

On Thursday night through absolute serendipity, I was given a free ticket to see the play Other Desert Cities ten minutes before the curtain rose. It too is about a homecoming. One that is designed to have a family confront its unspoken past and perhaps in doing so bring them closer. At one point the father says, “We’ve spent the last six years trying to create a space where Brooke [their daughter] wants to come home. Where she feels safe.”

The comfort of returning home and the safety it brings should be felt everywhere we call home. Whether that’s where we went to school or wherever we return to each night to lay our head.

It was sad dropping my daughter off at the airport after a stay that felt all too short. But I took solace not only in knowing that she will be coming home again in a month for Thanksgiving but also feeling that her very welcoming college is also starting to feel like home to her as well.

We don’t need parades or games to celebrate homecoming. We simply need people who make us feel like we belong, who in the words of Frost - “will always take us in.”

Recommendation of the Week: I’m enjoying Alex Warren’s new album - much of which is a tribute to his parents who have both passed. Among my favorite songs are “Same Stars” and “Miss You More.” They are poignant reminders to appreciate those we love while they are still here..

Share this with someone yearning to go home.

“In Fighting for Every Black Child, Did I Betray My Own?” is the title for the recent essay written by Pulitzer Prize winner Nikole Hannah-Jones.

She writes, “A decade ago, I made a decision about my daughter’s education that I hoped would challenge New York City’s separate and unequal school system. Now 16, she thinks I made the wrong choice.”

In the essay, she chronicles her best intentions to align her actions with her values, her confidence to advocate for change, and the questions now being asked by a child who knows her situation could have been better.

It also begs the question about how our own actions align with our values and if not, whether they actually help our kids and/or harm others.

Jones refused to do what most upwardly mobile or affluent young parents in New York City ultimately do - move to the suburbs largely for better schools.

Moving for better schools is an understandable choice. It is one made by myself, almost everyone I know in my village and even famous former residents, Kenneth and Mamie Clark - two African-American scholars whose own research on race and child development was used in the Supreme Court case that desegregated the schools. Their thinking was that despite their beliefs, their children have but one life to live and they did not want to make them a martyr for their cause.

Jones resisted the natural flow - moving to better circumstances to provide better opportunities for her child. But her essay makes clear that her advocacy for her daughter and other students may have helped improve conditions that all students benefited from.

Compare that with what happens in school districts that city dwellers migrate to like mine. Not satisfied with choosing a wonderful school with proven positive outcomes, we also continue to advocate. We invest in tutors, SAT prep, essay coaches, college prep services and request and receive accommodations.

It is natural to want to provide the best for your child. Obviously no child should struggle too much and any child with a learning disability should receive accommodations.

But what does it say when wealthier schools grant twice as many accommodations than poorer ones or that almost 40% of Stanford University students are granted accommodations?

The Matthew effect describes the phenomenon of compounding advantages and disadvantages. Originally taken from the Bible verse “the rich get richer…” referring to money, it also applies to fields like education - where additional support and opportunities widen the gap between the have more and have less.

What I find interesting and what I hope results from Jones’ widely shared essay, is how much of this happens in the dark. In my own village, very few people openly discuss the investments they make in their child’s education - except perhaps when we are looking for a recommendation. Only rarely have I had open conversations with other parents asking hard questions about fairness. Challenging each other over how our actions - born from good intentions or fear of failing behind - contribute to inequities that on paper we abhor. Wondering what advantage we would be willing to sacrifice for others.

It’s worth noting that in all likelihood Jones’ daughter will be just fine. She is on track to go to college and research shows that where one goes for their undergrad education has little correlation with long-term success. Her own trajectory will also be aided by her parents’ resources, social network and values. Her own experience attending schools that are more integrated by class has also proven to be advantageous for both her and her classmates.

The same would hold true for most children in my village - even if they never received any help from the cadre of extra support availed to us but inaccessible to most.

I appreciate how hard it is to square our actions to our values, but to not even have open conversations about our choices and what they mean to others should not be.

Recommendation for the Week: Have a conversation about this - either with your friends or your children. It is the least we can do.

Share this with someone with an invitation to discuss.

I sat on a park bench having coffee with an old friend. A man came up to us asking if we had any change. In our increasingly money-less society, we did not. Still he smiled and offered a small bouquet of flowers freshly picked from the park to my friend. He complimented her, made a few mildly inappropriate jokes which resulted in a shared laugh among the three of us and went off about his day. The three of us all the better from his simple offering.

When our coffee was finished and it was time to go, my friend suggested we give the flowers to someone else. We agreed that an older woman sitting across from us would be a good person for our offering.

What happened next was even more extraordinary than what had happened before.

Upon receiving our offer, the older woman slowly rose to her feet. Tears began to well in her eyes as she shared how she had been going through a very difficult time. Clearly touched by this random act of kindness, she asked my friend if she could give her a hug - which she happily obliged.

Strangers in a park. A simple bouquet of flowers. Jokes, laughs, tears, a hug, gratitude, human connection.

All the result of a simple offering.

An offering at the most basic level is defined as “something tendered for acceptance.” Tendered - what a lovely word. It implies the value is in the gesture, not the object itself.

How simply it is to offer something to someone. A smile, a complement, anything we feel someone might need or accept. And how wonderful it is to receive one.

We live in fragile times. Most of us, whether sitting on a park bench or alone with our thoughts, have some worry or anxiety stirring within us below the surface. To borrow a phrase from Thoreau, it is a “quiet desperation.” Desperate for connection or relief. An offering presents an opportunity for a little of both.

I often go through my days offering very little to strangers. I try to be polite. Hold a door for the person behind me, apologize when I accidentally invade a stranger’s pace, and reactively help someone who might drop something. But I usually don’t proactively seek out connection or offer even as much as a smile to someone I don’t know.

I ask myself why not and don’t have a particularly good answer.

How simple it would be to offer smiles to everyone who passes us, provide a compliment to a person next to us on a train, wish the people we are crammed in the elevator with a good day. Science shows us that these types of interactions are good for both the person offering and the person receiving.

The simple offering from a man, who materially seemed to have little but in spirit was quite rich, helped make the day of two strangers who in turn presumably did the same for a third.

Which is another beautiful thing about offerings - they have a multiplier effect.

Consider this note an offering to you. You are unique and awesome and I hope you have a wonderful week.

This Week’s Recommendation: Sara Bareille’s new album “Good Grief” is a beautiful testament to the human spirit. With vulnerability and community she shares stories of her own loss. It is an offering to others who may be searching for ways to process their own.

Consider sharing this note as an offering to someone who could use a little pick me up.

There is an old adage that we should never question another person’s motive. It harkens back to medieval days when to do so was to question one’s honor and potentially end in a deadly duel. Later it was popularized by Dwight Eisenhower who believed it undermined trust.

This reluctance to question motive - while perhaps well-intentioned - seems misguided today.

On one hand we should not presume to know someone’s motive, we are not inside their head nor appreciate the fullness of another’s lived experience. On the other hand, it would seem that trying to understand someone’s motives - often through questioning them - is essential for making sense of the actions or judgements that may have an effect on our own lives. Questioning one’s motives can deepen our potential connection rather than fray it.

Over the last week alone, I stumbled upon several thoughtful pieces of content that did just that.

A fascinating PBS documentary, Ghost in the Machine, helped me understand the motives behind the growth of Silicon Valley and AI (actually lessening my fear of it).

The moving new film, Don’t Look Back in Anger, helped me understand not only the motives behind the break up of Oasis, but more importantly the motives behind their music and people’s deep connection to it.

A new book, Profiles in Cowardice, explores the motives behind people with immense power who nevertheless refuse to stand up to abuses of power by others even though they appear to be in direct contrast to their own stated principles.

An American Experience film examined the motives behind Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid whose train-robbing exploits were fueled by their repudiation of robber barons and the exploitation they wrought on their own families.

The first three chapters of the book Enshitification, which I just started reading, offer a riveting look into the motives driving the actions and evolution of large tech companies.

Now it must be said that in all of the cases above, the authors and filmmakers questioning the motives of others, have motives themselves. Some are artistic, commercial or personal. It is fine to question their motives as well.

Yet they all seem to be offering a reasonable and deep questioning of why some people and organizations do what they do. When done well, questioning motives is a necessary act of critical thinking that seems in short supply today.

Asking ourselves, “why is someone doing this?” is a first step that can alleviate our own frustration, enable the joy of discovery, and offer insights for our own actions. Failure to do so lessens our appreciation and leaves us only to superficially judge the actions of others.

Asking others, “why are you doing this?” when done without judgment and with genuine curiosity can be the first step across a bridge that otherwise will never be crossed.

The poet William Butler Yeats wrote, “The light of lights looks always on the motive, not the deed, the shadow of shadows on the deed alone.”

Let there be more light.

This Week’s Recommendation: Watch or read one of the above or anything that earnestly tries to answer the question, “why?”

Consider sharing this with someone whose motive you want to better understand.

So screams the owner of A.F.C. Richmond into a television camera, as her frustration in her fans not supporting their women’s team boils over in a recent episode of Ted Lasso.

Many purport to support both her club in general and women’s soccer in particular but their actions contradict their sentiment. They aren’t just figuratively standing on the sidelines, they are literally not even in the half-filled stadium.

This is a sentiment that hits home.

I am so grateful for those of you who have supported this newsletter by becoming a paid subscriber over the last year.

At the same time, I get so many more comments from readers - thanking me for what I’ve written - who are not a paid subscriber. And I wonder, if they appreciate it so much why aren’t they a paid subscriber too? Or in Rebecca’s words, “Where are you?”

I take responsibility for this. I do not like to ask for help. This is not uncommon from people who come from lesser means. It’s hard to ask for support.

Yet there comes a time where we must.

In the same episode, Ted Lasso quotes writer Elizabeth Appell: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it takes to blossom.”

I fear loss more than I value gain. So I rarely ask subscribers directly to become paid. I am asking you now. Please become a paid subscriber today.

One person once told me that he wasn’t a paid subscriber because he - and perhaps others - don’t think I need the support. Let me just say if I didn’t need your support, I would not ask for it.

Your support is not only helpful financially but it validates this work and frees up time to do other projects to help others. Next month, my latest book, Up/Words: A Young Striver’s Guide to a Better Life, will be published. It is the rare book that is written explicitly for a young person from little means. I will be sending a copy to paid subscribers thanking them for their support. Proceeds from sales will support the Social Mobility Lab @ The City College of New York.

Appropriately, there is a chapter focused on the role of help in our lives and how to ask for it. It includes a study out of UCLA that found that 79% of the time when someone signals or asks for help, another person complies. 11% of the time they ignored the person, 10% of the time they rejected the request. I hope I am half as fortunate as this study might suggest.

Towards the end of the Lasso episode, three super fans who see Rebecca’s tirade on TV realize “We should be there.”

I hope perhaps you might now feel the same. While there is a recommended subscription amount there is also the option under “Founding Member” to pay what you feel is right for you.

Thanks in advance for your support. It really is very much appreciated.

This Week’s Recommendation. Ask for someone’s support. That includes me. Please let me know how I can help you

Please consider sharing this with someone whose support you appreciate.

Last week, waiting on the train platform, I could not help but notice how many people were staring down at their phones - perhaps already beginning their day of labor. A few looked up and out across the Hudson River to take in the splendid Palisades. I wonder who had a less laborious beginning to their day.

I went to work near Union Square, which was the site for the first Labor Day Parade in 1882. Contrary to what one might think, the name Union Square has nothing to do with that event but rather is simply because it is where Broadway and 4th Avenue unite.

I teach around the corner from the park at Parsons School of Design. The school was founded by Willam Merritt Chase. A few doors down from my building is a branch of the bank, JP Morgan Chase. It sits at the location of the former Coffee Shop. Before it was a hip nighttime hangout in the 90s for models and other fashionable folks, it was actually Chase Coffee Shop in the 1970s. Ironically, that diner was cited for health code violations in 1972 by a city inspector named Gordon Chase.

Consider this. An artist, a banker, a restaurateur and an inspector - all named Chase labored here. While their names and location were the same, the products of their labor could not have been more diverse: education, capital, food and safety.

Recently, I got into an argument at a bar over labor. At one point, my “opposition” argued that capitalists were more important than laborers. When given the somewhat false choice of who was more indispensable in building American railroads, the capitalists who funded them or the workers who built them, he said the capitalists. I disagreed, arguing that the tens of thousands of workers were more important than a handful of tycoons whose investments - while important - were dwarfed by the money spent by our government and the land grants given to the railroads. Who do you think is more indispensable in America - those who labor or those who accrue capital?

Labor and work are different. Work refers simply to action. Labor adds a degree of struggle.

Labor as a word dates back to the 1300s in the text of Life & Martyrdom of Thomas Becket. Approximately a hundred years later it was used in the context of childbirth. Which is not - although perhaps it should be - the inspiration for the term “Labor of Love” - which first appears in the King James Bible and refers to work in the service of God or others.

Labor does not appear in reference to groups of workers until 1839.

Labor Day first became a federal holiday in the United States in 1894.

Approximately, 70 million people in the United States still have to report to work on Labor Day.

Including workers at Dunkin Donuts, Barnes and Noble, Sephora, Staples, Whole Foods and other retailers that all surround Union Square. The corporate offices of these businesses however - and of course - are closed. Who is more indispensable again?

This Week’s Recommendation: Last year, I interviewed Adam Chandler about his book, 99% Perspiration. It was a fascinating conversation about the history of work in America and our attitudes towards labor. Check it out here.

Share this with someone whose labor deserves to be recognized.

One had been given a fresh coat of paint over the summer. The other had not.

This may seem like a small detail but research shows a correlation between how well-maintained a classroom is and a whole host of student outcomes. These range from absenteeism to student achievement. Perhaps most significant is that students often see how well-maintained a classroom is as a reflection of their own worth and belonging.

If a classroom is well-cared for it can indicate to a student that they are cared for. And unfortunately, vice versa.

A coat of paint is not a panacea for solving disparities in education but is a start.

Other research indicates that simple gestures like teachers smiling at their students when they enter the classroom impact student performance. Appearances and first impressions matter. They are a small and simple signal to the student that they matter too.

Facilities management in education is a challenge.The logistics of painting a college can be daunting. The costs add up quickly on large campuses with multiple buildings and hundreds if not thousands of classrooms to maintain.

Yet the cost to paint one classroom is manageable. And smiles of course are free.

While I’m talking about a very specific example in two different classrooms, we can see these disparities in all kinds of spaces - including public parks, our streets, our storefronts, hospitals and on and on.

What is one to do when they see spaces that need to be better maintained? Of course we can report the issue to the responsible parties in hopes that they will address it. Undoubtedly they are aware and perhaps have intentions and plans to do so - if not the resources. But while we wait, there is something else we can do.

Pick up a brush.

In 2002, over 2500 volunteers - organized by Hands On DC - showed up to paint thirty public schools in Washington, DC.

In New York City, an organization called Publicolor has programs that organize both volunteers and students to paint their own schools each year.

So many of our problems seem impossible to tackle given their scale and the real or imagined red tape one needs to cut through before enacting change. But these examples and others show what is possible, when we self-organize and take the first steps to making the world a little brighter and more welcoming for others.

Recommendation of the Week: People around the world are mourning the loss of Dolly Parton. Her organization Imagination Library was started to address literacy which was very personal to her as her father could not read. The organization has donated over 300 million books to date. If you’re a fan of hers, perhaps consider making a donation in her memory here

Share this with someone who picks up a brush for others.

I fall into the former category.

It was a day marked on the calendar for months. One I anticipated with great sadness. Just booking the hotel for the drop-off weekend brought a few tears to my eyes. I could only imagine that the actual moment of saying goodbye would be a watershed and waterfall moment.

Yet when the “See You Later” time - as they call it - came - it was anything but. The morning move went smoothly, clothes unpacked, furniture assembled, posters hung on the wall. No stress or drama as my wife, daughter and I worked together to make her dorm room feel like home. When we said our goodbyes, it was predictably brief. A warm hug, a few words (“I’m proud of you, have fun”) and an exchange of “I love you’s” - she walked to her dorm and my wife and I to our car. I shed a tear or two as I flashed a knowing glance with my daughter and smiled.

The next day was orientation for her and for us. William & Mary has a reputation for creating a welcoming environment and it appears to be well-earned. Our family orientation made me feel like she would be in good hands. The director of Health and Wellness told us our children are going to get a whole lot of “mattering” - referring to the work of Jennifer Beheny Wallace. The director of student support services said “Don’t worry, I’ll look after your babies.” A large meeting in the basketball arena featured the University President, the Mayor of Williamsburg and others - all echoing the school’s guiding principle, “All Who Come Here, Belong Here.” At the end, they surprised us by bringing in all our children who sat up in the bleachers and cheered and waved at us.

Upperclassman lined the roads flashing welcome signs, dancing and singing. A Q&A session with students included all of them saying that the best thing about this school was its people - finding different - but equally warm words to describe them - “supportive,” “caring,” “loving.” Just another example of why they were named one of the friendliest schools recently by the Princeton Review.

The environment, the people, all of the opportunities in front of her - left me feeling so excited and hopeful for my daughter. This drop-off felt so right for her.

At the same time, there are three definitions for drop-off. One is the literal experience I just described - “taking a person or an object to a place and leaving them there.” The others “to decrease or decline” and “a sudden steep drop” began to sink in as we pulled away in our car and really hit home, well when we finally arrived home two days later.

The dinner table with her chair empty. The bedroom in pristine condition. The waiting for a call or text from her. All stark reminders that I would have less of her. A decrease or decline in our time together, our late night chats, car rides, movies, singing together, bad dad jokes, asking for my help or opinion. All of it would be in decline for the next four years. The reality was also that this was a sudden and steep drop. Going from seeing a person you love every day to not seeing them for weeks or months at a time, is and will be tough. Having less of what you love always is.

Thinking of this - not being able to look at her empty chair at the dinner table - finally led me to the good cry I had been anticipating for months. I walked back into my bedroom and let it all out.

Later that night we received some more detailed texts and videos from her first few days. This morning we Facetimed. All felt a little more right in the world.

Drop-offs - whether it be pre-school, camp or college - are by design uneasy, but necessary milestones for kids and parents alike. In most cases, it represents more for them and less for you. They get connected to new and old friends, other caring adults; exposure to new environments, experiences, and knowledge; more freedom and independence You simply get less of them.

As hard as it may be - for their growth and as a reflection of your love - that seems like a trade-off you have to make every single time.

This Week’s Recommendation: Take a walk down memory lane and break out some pictures of when your kids (or even you) were young. It will bring a wistful smile to your face. Consider listening to “You’re Going to Miss This” by Trace Adkins or “It Won’t Be Like this For Long” by Darius Rucker while you do it. Then grab some tissues.

Share this with someone experiencing a drop-off - from either side.

In the simplest of terms, it is a trip to someplace else.

Most call it a vacation. Defined as “time away from work or school used for rest, travel or fun.” The Latin and French root of the word means to be free.

Similarly some associate this time with an escape. Others an opportunity to explore - either parts of the world or themselves.

Having just returned from two weeks away in Italy with my family - none of these terms feel quite right to me.

Seth Godin once wrote “Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don’t need to escape from.”

This is a sentiment that rings true for me. I love my work, home and most aspects of my life - so escaping this is not the goal.

Similarly, given that my wife and I still had many responsibilities while away - looking after and providing for our three children and making various choices of what to do and how to get there - it didn’t always feel particularly free.

And yes, while we did some new exploration - like visiting the wonder that is Pompeii or swimming in the open water of Sorrento- I had previously been to many of the sites and places we visited.

Instead, I would call it - to borrow a common Italian phrase, “passare del tempo in famiglia.” You don’t need to speak Italian to figure out the obvious English translation - “to spend time in family.”

The idea of “in family” is so wonderful to me. It is an active phrasing versus the more passive “with family.”

For almost two weeks we ate, walked, talked, and experienced life in the company of each other exclusively. This is distinct in comparison to the busy and distracted daily lives that often seem subconsciously designed to keep us apart.

In less than a week, we will drop our oldest off to college. Opportunities to be “in family” with all five of us will have to wait until Thanksgiving break - which feels like an eternity to me.

For comparison, during our twelve days “in family, in Italy” we ate more meals together than we will likely eat together in the next nine months combined.

Like any time, when people spend so much time together, there were inevitable moments of friction, complaints, conflicts and problems. Many of which were exacerbated by the 100 degree heat, lost luggage and concerns over a sick dog at home.

At the same time, there were many more moments for me that I will never forget; a late night conversation with my youngest about god, history and art; hanging laundry on a clothes line outside the window of our apartment in Florence with another daughter (fun fact, the place had previously been home to Napoleon’s sister, a convent and a brothel); another late night chat with my oldest helping her work through the overwhelming feelings of getting ready to go to college; stealing a kiss with my wife in the Mediterranean sea; the many laughs and stories shared over delicious meals.

Before we left, I called my Mom to say goodbye. I asked her if she wanted me to bring her anything back. Her wise and selfless reply - “No, just go spend time with your family. It all goes by too quickly. Just enjoy each other.”

And so I did.

On our last full day there, floating in the water with one of my daughters, she shared the observation that “no matter what happens, you always have a good time on vacation. As long as we’re spending time together. It’s the only thing that matters to you. You just like being with us.”

And so I do.

Now back they have scattered to the four corners of our town, sliding effortlessly into the routines and rhythms of their lives, seeing friends they’ve missed.

And here I am, sitting alone in the local library writing this, longing for the next chance for the five of us to be ‘in famiglia” again.

This Week’s Recommendation: On the very long flights, I had the opportunity to catch a few movies worth checking out - they offer reflections on life, family and how we spend our time. The Christophers, Hamnet, H is for Hawk. They were all remarkable for different reasons but moved me all the same.

Share this with your family - perhaps with an invitation to plan some time “in famiglia.”

Frantically loading our car to return from a trip to visit family, I slammed my head - not once but twice - into the sturdy, unforgiving frame of our Ford Flex. I know, I’m an idiot.

The initial daze and pain wore off but over the following days, I felt a growing fullness and fog in my head. A pressure from within was pressing on my forehead as if something was trying to escape.

The headache and daze were exacerbated anytime I used a screen. The smaller the screen and the more scrolling the worse I felt. Still in a desire to work, write and make progress against an unrelenting “to do” list, I resisted the number one recommendation when concussed - to avoid screens.

Eventually I realized the error of my ways as my symptoms failed to subside. I was also noticing more issues with recalling information that is typically top of mind but now stuck behind a sludge of swollen brain tissue.

So I took a break. I went off screen for most of the weekend. Not picking up my phone at all and only using my computer when absolutely necessary.

The improvement in my state of mind was noticeable. At a time when I would have normally been fixated by something on my computer, I instead sat on my patio, closed my eyes and just listened to the sounds around me. The beautiful calls of birds I could not name, the rumbling of cars going here and there, the wind causing the subtle brushing sound of trees swaying. At one point, my eyes still closed, I tried to locate where each chirp or whir was coming from. It was such a peaceful exercise.

On a surface level, one could say I was doing nothing. I would argue I was doing more than I would typically be doing. I was being present. I was deeply listening. I was using my mind in a way that I don’t typically do. And of course, I was relaxing and I was probably healing.

While I wouldn’t wish a concussion on anyone - and unfortunately I believe I’ve had more than a few - there is unintended benefit. It forced me to put away my devices and see more plainly the obvious discomfort they inflict upon us.

The eyes weren’t intended to scroll. They were made to see. Our minds weren’t made to be constantly distracted. They are there to help us focus.

Perhaps, this week for a day, pretend you have a concussion. Tell your boss or your family that you’re going off line for health reasons. You’d be telling the truth.

This Week’s Recommendation: Find a seemingly quiet spot outside on a beautiful day. Sit somewhere comfortably and close your eyes and just listen.

Share this with someone who could use a break from a screen.

Yet as annoyed as we may be, imagine the construction worker toiling long hours during the hottest and muggiest time of the year.

Last week, as I was driving to City College, I came upon a street that has been perpetually under construction for as long as I can remember making this commute. Massive metal trench plates covered holes in the road causing rumbling that tested the shocks on my car. As I passed one worker holding a flag intended to direct traffic, I came upon the second holding a stop sign.

He approached my car asking if I had seen the first flagger. I sensed I was in trouble and said, “No sorry, did I miss something?” He smiled and responded, “No man, you’re doing great. I just wanted to tell you to have an awesome day.” Reflexively, I told him “He was doing great too and thanks for being so positive.” Matter of factly he replied, “What other choice do you have?” We fist bumped and went about the rest of our day - not before I noticed in my rearview mirror that he was starting a similarly wonderful exchange with the driver behind me.

The word construction can conjure a knee-jerk negative response. But the root word, “construct” means simply “to build or create.”

Everyday we are building or creating something. Perhaps, the easiest of these is connection.

As I went about my day, his words had worn off. I did not feel as if “was doing great.” Various things had gone a little south and my day ended with a thud. Lying in bed before I drifted off to sleep, I recounted my day as I often do and remembered his kind and jovial words. This small act had in fact, constructed a lasting memory, created inspiration for this post and all in all made a good day.

You are doing great. We are always building or creating something - a life, a day, a moment. Doing so with joy or positivity isn’t always easy - especially in hot or noisy conditions both of the literal and metaphorical kind. Yet it is still a choice available to us.

This Week’s Recommendation: This morning, I finished Dave Eggers’ new novel, Contrapposto. It’s a story of friendship, love, and most of all art. He writes perceptively and challenges us to consider what makes art and a good life. Highly recommend.

Share this with someone who is constructing something in a way you admire.

A thrilling World Cup Final with my family that regularly produced “oooh’s” and “ahh’s”;

A person shamelessly photobomb the winner’s celebration, producing audible “ughs” in our home;

The Broadway cast of Titanique having the time of their lives while spoofing the movie Titanic, resulting in an hour and a half of my constant laughs and guffaws;

The movie version of Dear Evan Hanson, that landed more heavily than the first time I saw it, producing streams of tears;

Biblical level thunderstorm replete with lightning strikes on both sides of the Hudson River, leaving me in awe of nature’s power;

A friend poignantly deliver the eulogy at her mother’s funeral, filling me with both admiration for her strength and deep sadness for her loss;

A glowing pregnant woman in a flowing dress helping her cute toddler stumble up the steps to our local library, forcing a smile on my face after a tough morning;

A House sub-committee hearing on C-SPAN until 2:00AM investigating how the our naitonal museums reflect American History, leaving me fascinated by how differently political parties see our collective story.

My almost 10 year old dog, laying on my chest, alternatively nuzzling his head beneath my arm and raising it to investigate a sound or smell, causing me to wonder how his canine brain actually works.

These are just a few of what I watched this past week. By watched, I mean devoted my full attention to what was right in front of me. Fully invested, without distraction, by the actions of another - whether that be for a few minutes or a few hours.

Reflecting upon them now, I am amazed by the range of emotions and actions simply watching others effortlessly produced in myself.

We sometimes assume watching anything is a passive - if not wasteful - use of our time. On the contrary, when truly present for what is right in front of our face, it can cause us to see others, ourselves and our world in a different, more expansive light.

What did you watch with intention this week?

Recommendation of the Week: Make time to watch something without distraction. Afterwards, notice how it makes you feel and ask yourself if it is worth watching more things like that.

Share this with someone you enjoy watching.

.

Before jumping to conclusions and assuming the stereotypical DMV experience. Let me first say that the people were all wonderful. A young man greeted me at the door asking me what I needed and handing me the required paperwork. A young lady escorted me to the scanner to check in and offered me a pen to help fill out the form. I sat and waited only seven minutes before my number was called.

As I approached my designated counter #23, another young woman with the initial R on her name tag and long acrylic nails greeted me after first taking a few moments to unwrap a Starburst for herself. A task made almost comically more difficult by the afore-mentioned nails. She checked out my form noting my Christmas birthday - like most people do - adding that her ex-husband was also born on Christmas (albeit 20 years after me). Seeing my birth year, she looked up and said matter of factly, “You look good.” The “for your age” was implied but I’ll take it.

That’s where the fun ended. Her computer told her she could not process my request for a replacement license that I had misplaced last week. Apparently there was a hold in the system stemming from a violation in Pennsylvania. The specifics of which, I would have to call the DMV in PA to find out.

After multiple calls and holds and referrals to the correct person, I was informed that there was an unresolved violation stemming from an incident in 1995. My license in Pennsylvania, which I haven’t had or needed since I moved to New York decades ago - was somehow suspended. She admitted that this should have been resolved and was likely a clerical error. However, she was not authorized to do anything so she would have to refer it to the Resolution Department. I asked if there was anything she could do to help expedite this and she said she would send a note to her manager but was unsure if he could do anything. It would take up to six business days before I would hear back. I would just have to wait.

R with the acrylic nails was kind and understanding. She said years ago, I wouldn’t have had a problem but now they integrated data from all fifty states and mistakes happen. As I left, she said, “That sucks but I guess maybe I’ll see you next week.”

Bureaucracy and the delays they cause are often unnecessary. Automation - designed to simplify things - often compounds matters. Individuals who see obvious errors or injustices are not empowered to resolve them on their own. Resulting in more delays and logjams in systems and in lives.

On my end, this is an inconvenience as I should not drive without a physical license. For others, the implications are more serious. Just last night, I heard a report that many people will likely be denied the ability to vote - because some voter rolls don’t recognize a naturalized citizen as an eligible voter. Earlier this week, I heard stories at work where people weren’t getting paid on time due to migration to a new payroll processing system. In other cases, bureaucratic delays result in people no longer being able to access much needed programs and support - ranging from health care to food assistance.

As we move increasingly into a world of big data systems and AI, inevitably there will be more delays, mistaken identities, records or documents that cause more headaches and harms than they should.

For those who design these systems, I hope they look for opportunities to account for unintended consequences, build in ways to empower workers to immediately resolve obvious mistakes and remember that behind every number is a person just trying to go about their days with as little friction as possible.

And for those on the front line in customer service, thank you for your grace and kindness. R with the acrylic nails and her “You look good” comment is the only thing keeping me from banging my head against the wall right now.

This Week’s Recommendation: Find a way to take a little bit of friction out of someone’s life. A little act to remove a bump or a roadblock out of their way can go a long way.

UPDATE: I received a call a few hours ago from Kimberly at the PA DMV. Her manager did in fact go over to the Resolution Department and they were able to take care of it right away. The roadblock cleared, my new license is now on its way. Faith is restored. May others follow the example of the NY and PA DMVs.

Please share this with someone who might be frustrated by the friction all around us.

The first was Mary Oliver: Saved by the Beauty of the World. It was a wonderful film exploring the life of the poet whose powers of observation - particularly of the natural world - were unmatched.

The second was The Karate Kid.

On the surface, these films could not be any different. But they - in different ways - reflect the cathartic value writing provides to both the writer and their audience.

The Oliver documentary begins by sharing a poem describing her escape to the woods, fleeing her home as a teenager for a week. The reasons for her escape are not shared at that point, although they are foreshadowed by another poem describing her relationships with her parents.

For most of her career, Oliver cast her vision to the beauty of the natural world. Using nature as a mirror to our own soul. It was only later in her career when she more explicitly turned inward, revealing more about her own life, including the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father.

Abuse in her home - a place where we are meant to feel safe - contributed to her need to find beauty out in the wild - where sadly many of us have grown more fearful.

Fear also played a role in the writing of The Karate Kid. The story was inspired in part by the life of its screenwriter, Robert Mark Kamen. He had been beaten up by a gang at the age of seventeen at the World’s Fair in New York and turned to martial arts to protect himself. He rejected his first instructor as being too violent and vengeful, eventually finding a Japanese instructor who studied under a master whose name was Chōjun Miyagi. Miyagi - like the character in the film- believed that ”the ultimate aim of karate-do was to build character, conquer human misery, and find spiritual freedom.”

Catharsis is “the process of releasing strong or repressed emotions—such as fear, pity, or anger—that results in relief, renewal, or psychological healing.”

In the case of Oliver and Kamen, their catharsis involved writing. Their own healing process has presumably played a role in the healing of others. It inspires us to look inward to confront our repressed emotions. We cheer for the Karate Kid when he wins his final match and finds balance, because we appreciate, understand or have experienced feeling bullied, unwelcome and out of balance. When we read or hear Oliver’s poems, we are grateful to feel the beauty of the world leap of the page even while accepting the suffering that too often comes with it.

Catharsis is a painful and powerful experience. It more deeply connects us to ourselves and - when shared - to others. Writing has helped serve that purpose in my own life.

Thanks to all the writers out there who put pain to pen, bravely putting themselves out there in the hopes that they - and by extension we - may heal.

Recommendation of the Week: I stumbled upon the new album, The Visitor from Sienna Spiro. She has a beautiful voice that is both powerful and aching. My favorite two tracks are Great Expectation and Pure. The album itself is another act of catharsis. In an interview, she shared that she has always felt like a visitor in her own life. This album is a result of a two year process working through that feeling.

Consider sharing this with someone who might welcome a cathartic experience.

As our 250th birthday approaches, things feel a little more complicated, uncomfortable and of course, hotter. Some see jingoistic displays of American patriotism through a very specific political filter while others choose this as an opportunity to look at America through the lens of how she has not lived up to her founding principles. We see our history in black or white without nuance. There are States of America but not as United as we would like.

“United” comes from the Latin term meaning “joined together.” From the very beginning this joining together included people from different backgrounds and beliefs. This holds true today. We can be united and have different beliefs. Not just between each other but within ourselves.

I am proud to be an American AND not always proud of what others do in her name.

I am grateful for the opportunities America has given me AND wish it could afford those same opportunities to more people.

I support our soldiers and veterans AND do not support every conflict our country chooses to engage in.

I respect the office of the Presidency AND don’t approve of how some presidents have disrespected that office.

I am inspired by many events of our nation’s history AND ashamed by others.

I love my country AND believe we can do better.

It’s worth noting that there has always been division in America. Even during our bi-centennial, that little boy waving a flag in Boston? It was during the Boston busing crisis that viciously divided neighbors and families among racial and class lines.

To be united as a country does not require us to be united in all things, just the most important ones. It also helps if we acknowledge our contradictions between us and even within ourselves.

As Walt Whitman wrote in Song of Myself:

“Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

As we celebrate our nation’s birthday, perhaps one of the most valuable presents we could give ourselves AND each other is to recognize and understand these contradictions; realizing that inherent in the idea of United - is in fact our differences.

Recommendation of the Week: Take this brief seven question quiz - courtesy of Seth Godin’s blog - that shows how different/unique your own set of beliefs might be from other Americans. It’s interesting that less than 2% of Americans share my exact beliefs in this quiz AND yet I feel so connected to my fellow Americans.

Consider sharing this with someone who you’d like to feel more united with.

I strolled through old neighborhoods where I lived and worked many years ago. Recalling nights out that began with a burger at the Corner Bistro and included stops in bars like the White Horse Tavern and Barrow’s Pub. The next day we nursed hangovers over brunch at the Bus Stop Cafe or La Bonbonniere diner. I retraced the morning walk to work - popped into the building that was not just where I called work for fifteen years but also where I met many of my dearest friends and most importantly my wife.

I paused at a park where I would go to read or reflect, thinking about old friends - a few of which are no longer with us - and others I don’t see nearly often enough. I thought of people and stories and laughs and awesome times.

Nostalgia comes from the root “nostos” meaning returning home and “algos” meaning pain. It was originally used to describe deep homesickness but has evolved to mean a broader yearning for times gone by.

Despite this yearning, science tells us - and my experience corroborates - that nostalgic experiences actually provide us with comfort. It makes us feel loved, increases our self-esteem, optimism and even life satisfaction. It can be triggered by old photos, music, stories and as in my case, place.

Without these triggers and others, we forget most of our lived experience. Other research shows that we only remember 5% of our life - unless aided by prompts.

Earlier in the week, my wife and I pulled out from storage a bin filled with old schoolwork and pictures from our oldest daughter. We lined the halls and walls of our home with poems, drawings and pictures marking her growth from kindergarten to high school graduate. It provided a literal walk down memory lane for her and our entire family. I could see and feel the warmth and joy it provided to us all.

Of course, our past isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. It includes stress, pain, loss, heartbreak, struggle and uncertainty. Yet reflecting back, reminds me that we move on, get through it, and if we’re lucky - as I have been - feel loved and supported all along the way.

If you’re looking for a little pick me up - try picking up an old photo, or your phone to call an old friend - or perhaps better yet go on a nice long walk somewhere in your past that reminds you of how far you’ve come and who has loved you along the way.

Recommendation of the Week: I recently read the book, Transcription by Ben Lerner. The short novel is a reflection on memory, experience and family. It was thought-provoking and on several occasions incredibly moving - bringing me to tear up unexpectedly.

Consider sharing this with a friend from your past.

And yet within a matter of minutes it did.

Shortly thereafter, a rainbow manifested across the clouded sky. Moments later it was gone.

As the sunset approached, the winds directed their energy across the tree tops - each little branch swaying like hundreds of little children shuffling around a playground.

The gloaming then made its ways around the sky, a radiant orange sitting on cloud tops.

The wind soon whisked the clouds away, leaving an empty and calm sky.

Invisible forces of wind and light shape shifted my view many times over within a matter of fifteen minutes. So significant and varied the change one might have thought it was time lapse photography.

And so it can be with change. It can bring something beautiful into your life and then just as quickly whisk it away, only to bring something different but equally inspiring before your eyes soon after.

A day earlier, I was in another windy setting. Sitting on a football field, watching my oldest daughter graduate high school, giving the valedictorian’s speech.

Seeing her stand in front of hundreds of people, speaking with such poise, perspective, vulnerability and confidence, I felt immense pride. I also realized that these winds of change were coming for me too.

Beginning in the fall, she will be off to college and I will no longer have a front row seat to the beauty and energy of her shifting transitions traipsing across our shared sky on a daily basis.

I find this thought devastating. As a result, I try to avoid it as much as possible. Watching her on that graduation stage, it was unavoidable.

On Father’s Day a few days later, I found myself reading this article on that same patio. It was a daughter reflecting upon the impact of her father both in life and after his passing. I found some comfort in its closing where she writes, “He always comes along with me in my mind.”

Years ago my daughter asked for my help with a science project. Each night, she asked if I would go outside with her to observe the phase of the moon. I find solace - perhaps even some excitement - in being able to bring her “along in my mind” whenever I want or need to in the fall. Looking up into that same sky, knowing that underneath that same moon - a few hundred miles away - she may be doing the same. Imagining what wonderful experiences she brought to life that day.

Recommendation of the Week: Last night I stumbled upon the movie, Paper Moon. It is a touching and funny film about a father and daughter finding each other. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. You’ll be blown away by the 9-year old Tatum O’Neal’s Oscar winning performance and moved by their connection.

Consider sharing this with someone dealing with the winds of change in their lives right now.