Do Dad Don't

Lunacy

2010-02-25T16:54:00.000-08:00

No sleep.
Middle of the night reading.
Tired eyes.
Fritz the dachsund stretched out on his back with his paws wrapped over the top of the sheets. WTH?
Arrived at school to the news that a friend's son has been killed in a traffic accident.
To imagine the calamity in their life. Distraught. Sadness.
This whole day seemed catterwunky, out of sorts.
The moon is pulling the tide into negative numbers and it's not even full, yet.
Lunatics are everywhere.
The alternator goes loony. How long can a van run on its battery? About four miles, today.
Vehicles cost upwards of what a good house used to cost, and the alternator goes out as I drive toward school; where can I pull over safely? Where do I hide? AAA.
I call on my cell phone and that's all they need. They know who I am, "Hi, Mister Fitzpatrick, thank you for your 37 years of membership, how can I help you?" "Uh..." They have my membership number, and she can even triangulate where I am! When the tow truck guy arrives he has everything he needs, "Oh, I've got all your info in the computer, man. You're all good." "Uh..."
It's lunacy. I didn't even say anything and he's hooking up the front end to the 15 passenger van and we're off and I still haven't said anything. He even knows where we're going. "Uh..."
Loony loony loony.
Looney Tunes, there's an app we need, right now.

Worst Job

2010-02-23T14:38:00.000-08:00

John Long shared Larry Schaeffer's notion of discussing 'your worst job' as a way of cutting through shop talk.
We used it at dinner when we were in Jacksonville, Florida, at a brewing company, in the beer parlor area, where the food might have been less than expected, but in the end our time was well spent because of the worst jobs discussed.
It turns out Jeff and John had both been to Kodiak Island in Alaska, at different times, and John's worst job may have outweighed, or out smelled the others.
Laura. Frances. Minnie. Frances laughing about her dental/orthodontist assistant role of snipping the wires on kids' braces, and often times lacerating their gum tissue, too.
My own experience working at Neenie's Famous Weenies; serving up burgers and dogs from the little trailer at Castle Rock across from Mike Todd's beach house just north of Sunset Blvd. Serving up free food to the beautiful ladies hanging around the back door of the trailer. Major distractions were involved.
The things we've done.
The worst jobs that help temper our steel, and create a more appreciative self.
Visitor to the school last week said, "Man, you really love what you do..."
I do.
Worst to best.
What else can we ask for?
It's the best.

Happy Birthday

2010-02-18T14:44:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthdays.
Turns out birthday celebrations are important in all cultures.
In Brazil the goal is to chase away evil...for the Masai the entire culture is passed along in song, dance, and ritual, but first the adolescent boys are painted white and learn how to become warriors.
Whereas, Irish children are bounced by their "da" upon their heads, a celebration kept alive into adulthood in local pubs.
In Vietnam the whole celebration has been 'nationalized'--everyone celebrates their birth on Tet, New Year's Day. Every child receives a red envelope on New Year's with "lucky" money or coins inside; they're congratulated on living another year. All of which means, of course, there's no keeping track of your children's birthdays, nor your wife's, or mother's. There's one birthday, and that one birthday is yours and everyone else's, too.
Simple. As in not complicated.
My life, at times, becomes complicated. I make choices, I forget, and accordingly my life is not simple.
Tomorrow is my wife's birthday, and I've learned over the years that life is not simple if this day is forgotten. In fact, I have discovered, forgetting your wife's birthday makes life incredibly complicated.
Forgetting where you put the keys is inconvenient. Forgetting someone's name might be awkward.
Forgetting your wife's birthday makes life incredibly complicated. Your life, her life. Everyone's.
It's true, this exercise, here and now, is an effort on my part to not forget.
Thank you, for your help in my remembering.
Happy Birthday, Frances.

Parent Timeline...

2010-02-08T13:07:00.000-08:00

Our first child had her birthday on Saturday.
We all sat together, with her husband and their two boys, to celebrate the day of her birth, 37 years ago.
Different city.
Different time, for sure.
Who was I 37 years ago?
"Wait! What?!? You're going to be 37! You can't be 37! If you're 37, that means I'm old!"
No response, although later in that dinner conversation the subject of age came up, again, and a reference to someone else being 60 put them in an older category than mine. I was reassured with the impression that she doesn't think I'm old, either, yet.
37 years ago we had wandered around the University of San Francisco hospital hoping to jumpstart, or restart, the whole dilation process.
10cm. That's the goal, right? You Montessorians know 10cm is the diameter of the circle in the classroom material. Before the hospital the 'water' had wet us in the middle of the night...'What the....?" "It's time," and it was sort of like the rehearsals we hadn't really practiced. We actually had a 'hospital bag,' but we had to leave Simba, our dog, behind...he wasn't thrilled.
Frances was 4cm at check in. "OK..."
But she was 4cm four hours later, and still at 4cm eight hours later...'go for a walk? Again?'
37 years ago, and it's like right now. Vivid memories.
The med students bumping into each other in the doorway; the doc comes in and asks, 'How long as she been at this?" as he glanced at the chart...he looked up at the eager but exhausted students, waiting. "Let's," he hesitated, and then lowered his voice, "step ouside." And he scooped up his students with arms extended and ushered them into the hall. Frances asked for some more ice, "What are they doing?" "I think they're finding out what they should have been doing."
Within minutes the whole scene changed...with quiet assurance from the doc we were heading down the hallway and he leaned toward Frances saying, "You've been working really hard, and we're going into surgery right now and I'm going to help you deliver this baby, so hold on a few more minutes...everything is going to be fine."
And that's what happened.
37 years ago.

Heart Felt

2010-02-04T13:30:00.000-08:00

Looked at my heart today.
Man oh man. 3-D imaging, sonar, stress test, sitting test, the whole package of what amazing people can do for you. Have you seen the new 3-D X-Ray imaging technology? Wow.
Atrial Fibrillation. It's what I've got.
That's what the experts call my irregular heartbeat. Atrial Fibrillation.
Why is it irregular? Why is my heart not beating like it usually does?
Likely the same viral infection that caused a stomach full of ulcers three weeks ago has also triggered the electronic reaction in my heart. Did I pick it up in the ocean. Could have, but this type of virus is EVERYWHERE.
How about you, how do you feel? What are you doing for your heart, today?
"Oh, yeah, I feel fine."
Dads.
Do you feel fine, really?
Come on dads. They're looking up at you, now. They need to be able to look up to you for a long time, dads.
Your children.
Your family.
They need your health. They need your healthy diet, your healthy choices. They need your heart to be healthy, dads.
We're looking at my heart today, the doc and I, and the doc says, "Your heart is healthy, you have the heart of a young man."
Damn right.
Now, if we can just get it to stop fibrillating!
Blood thinners for two weeks, and then it's the 'paddles.' "CLEAR!" WHAM!
Here's to your healthy hearts, dads.

Do You Like What You Do?

2010-02-03T11:00:00.000-08:00

I met this guy this morning and he says to me, "You like what you do!"
"I do," was my response. (I says to him).
"That's great, it's great to meet someone who likes what they do."
"Well, thanks..."
"I mean, it reminds me that I could like what I do, I mean, your's is a good message."
"OK."
"You said, a few times, 'I get to do this,' that's great, because I'm always thinking, 'I have to do this,' but you've reminded me that it's really that I 'get to do it' more than 'I have to do it.' I need to remember that."
"Well, good..."
"Yeah it is, it's great, thank you...thank you for reminding me, your outlook is really healthy."
"You're welcome."
He glanced at his wife, asking, "Don't you think?" and she replied, "Yes, I do, I think it is healthy, it's what we've been talking about."
So, I said, "Well, I like my wife, so it's great that we get to work together, too."
They both laughed, and he said, "Well, I like my wife, too." He glanced in her direction and she looked up and they smiled at each other. He looked back at me, "Thank you," he added, "It's been great to meet you," and I responded, "Thank you, it's been great to meet both of you, too."
They wished me a great day, "Have a great day," and I said, "You're making that a possibility."
These things happen, I swear. I'm not making this stuff up.

100 Words

2010-01-29T13:54:00.000-08:00

Here's the 100 Words:

Do you want your child to be an independent thinker, able to solve new challenges, with a life-long passion for learning? At SBMS, we foster children’s natural curiosity of the world around them. Through practical hands-on activities children gain a deep, comprehensive understanding of language, math, history, geography, all sciences, the arts, and more. Our children’s learning experience allows them to excel in their further academic careers and become the creative, entrepreneurial leaders of tomorrow.

People ask me, "What is it about Montessori?"

Those 100 words are a good start in answering the question.

I'm writing a new book: 100 Words

The book will answer the questions we all have, and each answer will be 100 Words. Watch for it.

What is your question?

What would Chris Rock say?

2010-01-25T10:33:00.000-08:00

Imagine the Chris Rock rant:

"I'm so busy."

"I'm too tired."

"I have this to do."

"I haven't finished, yet."

"In a minute."

"As soon as I finish this."

"Just a moment."

"Almost, ready."

"Wait just a minute."

Really? Are any of those yours? Have you heard yourself, lately?

Do you know what you sound like to a three year-old?

Or a thirteen year-old?

No. Negative. Negator. Nope. Not.

"No" is what you're saying, "No!"

The rant, again: "Leave me alone!"

"I don't love you!"

"I don't regard you!"

"You're not important enough for me!"

"Go away!"

"Not now!"

Come on, now dads.

Love is all there is, especially before it's too late and replaced by another base human emotion.

Deserving Dads

2009-10-12T12:59:00.001-07:00

Sooner or later, usually later, dads do something deserving of praise.

We're usually busy, and we're usually doing, but the doing is not always redeemable for praise. More often it's not. Unfortunately.

eg: San Francisco's airport terminals are art galleries. Plus, there's the Sports Hall of Fame which displays plaques of local stars, many of whom are, or were, dads.

There's Joe DiMaggio. Dom DiMaggio, too. John Madden, and others.

Which is to suggest that as airport waiting experiences are concerned San Francisco can be entertaining and informative. But, then there's the dads. Maybe it was just one dad that soured me on the whole SFO experience?

Man, he was ruthless. Berating. Cutting her down. He was righter than right, and so she must have been wrong. But not that wrong.

"What the hell?"

Since I was two seats away that's what I said, a bit too loud to get his and her attentions. I lifted up my laptop and looked beneath it for the explanation of my faux-confusion. "Damnit!" I said, even louder. Then lifted my laptop, peering at its underside, turning it over, opening and closing it for effect. Rolling my eyes. The very picture of exasperation.

He stopped. Maybe he looked at me, but I never made contact. Later his wife glanced in my direction, I shrugged still in my exasperated mode. We weren't on the same page, but at least I wasn't listening to him anymore. Neither was she.

Come on, dads. We deserve the praise.

Some Dads Do...Some Don't

2009-09-07T07:51:00.000-07:00

My dad did. As his did before him.

They did what they had to do.

My grandfather was a stretcher-bearer in WWI because he refused to carry a weapon. He was the guy running around the battlefield without a weapon, dodging bullets while trying to help the wounded.

My dad's eyesight was terrible, he was essentially blind, so for WWII they gave him a rifle, but told him not to shoot anybody because he couldn't tell who was what or what was who. In addition to his rifle they gave him a typewriter. His main task from the Philippines was to write the report sent to families about their loved one: "...we regret to inform you...with bombs exploding and bullets winging past he was able to hold off an entire battalion as his unit reached safety..." Everyone was a hero in his world. Well, not the officers. His world was the enlisted ranks.

He was captured and imprisoned when he drifted from camp. Three days later he reappeared. There had been hand-to-hand combat, and he later told me, "We looked at each other and we both realized one of us was going to die." Really? Really.

When Vietnam rolled around I was 2S; a student deferment, and he suggested, "If your status ever changes, if I were you, I wouldn't go. This war, any war, isn't worth what the politicians say it's worth. Go 'CO', or go to Canada, but you'll decide for yourself." 100 days later he died of a heartattack and my draft classification shifted to 1A when I dropped out of Long Beach State to run his company and finish the contract with the USIA.

There was work to do.

I went down to Westwood to appeal my 1A, claiming 'sole-surviving son.' "Boy, we changed that, you may be the sole-surviving son, but your daddy didn't die in combat, so you're 1A and you're gonna stay 1A, and you can look for something in the mail from us real soon."

Been looking ever since. And for more than 40 years I've been doing what I had to do.

Working. Paying the rent. Paying the bills. Grindstone. Uphill.

Doing what has to be done.

Dad returns (comeback, Dad!)

2009-08-17T13:30:00.000-07:00

Ah, baby.

Come home, baby. Homecoming.

Where is that home? That place within our realm we can actually think of as home?

40 years of home-ing with Frances.

40 years ago our home was in Lahaina, Maui--A box-like condo apartment on the beach. We went to work every day with Geraldine Chaplin and Charlton Heston under the direction of Tommy Gries. Should we get married? Lois Sloan sent Frances the dress and the rest was history. My best man, Bob Feigel, was in jail on the other side of the Banyan Tree. John Wittenburgh stood in. Alice was there, Cathy, too.

So, 40 years later to celebrate we went to another island. British Isles. Scotland. Speyside. River Spey. Inverness to Elgin to Buckie, and from Buckie it was walking up the Spey...Fochabers; Craigellachie; Dufftown; Aberlour; Ballindalloch; Grantown-on-Spey; Nethy Bridge; Boat of Garten; Aviemore.

You can't make this stuff up.

These towns and the walk in between are now part of our 'home.'

"Whisky Walk." Which distilleries did we visit/see? Uh...Balvenie, Glenfiddich, Glenlivet; Cragganmore, Macallan, Aberlour, Dewars, Carron, Tomintoul, Knockando...

Home.

Where the heart is, baby. For 40 years. Where has that heart been?

Topanga Beach. Lahaina, Maui. Hollywood. Malibu. Bergamo, Italy. San Francisco. Venice. Sleepy Hollow. La Jolla. Santa Barbara. Sausalito.

Home.

I'm going home.

Travel Time

2009-07-31T15:51:00.000-07:00

Dads travel.

Sometimes dads don't even leave where they are and they're busy traveling.

But actual travel suggests movement. Here to there. Hey! Where are you going?

It's your move. Travel. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

186,000mps. Light travels 186,000 miles in one second. As the earth travels around the sun while spinning on its axis how fast are we traveling? How fast does the entire solar system move as it travels through our MilkyWayed galaxy?

Successful travel has much to do with preparation.

Being ready, like a good ol' Boy Scout.

Being able to orient oneself. Which direction to take. When to go, and why.

Travelers. Not passengers and not tourists; travelers.

Some travelers end up being pioneers because of their timing.

Here's to traveling. Dads.

Responsibility

2009-07-30T05:45:00.000-07:00

Responsibility; the ability to respond.

But it goes beyond just responding, doesn't it?

Dads can't just respond...their response needs to be perfect.

Appropriate, timely, pointed, and informative, but always guiding toward a greater understanding.

Dads define responsibility, otherwise they'd rely upon someone else to guide and inform their family?

Responsibility.

Every day.

Every opportunity.

Big challenge, but we dads, we can respond.

2009-07-29T09:12:00.000-07:00

Flew into Boston yesterday on Virgin America. Flew FIRST CLASS on Virgin America. First Class wasn't the result of big bucks, more the impact of "knowledge." Not always who you know, sometimes it's what you know. Other times it's just accepting what we're told. First Class is so expensive. That's what they tell you. First Class doesn't have to be expensive.

Why is there First Class?

Steerage?

Why not First Class service for everyone? Why limit it to just those in First Class?

It's what we as dads need to aspire to. Right? Provide a First Class experience for ours.

First Class for our everyone, all the time. Every flight. Ever walk. Everything we do.

First Class, baby!

Premiere Class. The Best. The best we can be. What? Settle for less? Expect less?

That's what we want our families to think? Yeah! Come on, try! Give it your sort of!

Your Grandchild's Child

2009-07-18T07:08:00.000-07:00

Poseurs abound, don't they? Pretenders.

"Strike a pose." (flash)

Men who strike a "dad" pose may find short-term solutions, but in the long haul the image, the pose of the successful 'dad,' is the summation of all of the experiences, not just one 'pose.' Not just one 'photo op.'

The success of a 'dad' is reflected in his great grandchildren.

It's the long running full-length feature, and the feature's sequel, and its sequel, that reflect a "dad's" success, not one still image.

Live streaming reality, moment to moment, connecting and reconnecting and developing and manifesting and realizing...if you're a dad what are your children like when they're parents? When they're moms and dads?

How do they define their children, your grandchildren?

How often have you been able to witness the pride in a grandchild as they present their child to their grandparent?

Now that's a photo op!

Graduation

2009-06-18T15:05:00.000-07:00

It's June.
Celebrations abound.
Riding on the shoulders of giants Sir Isaac Newton changes the world in his time. Riding on the shoulders of giants, recognizing how we get to where we're going, sometimes involves recognizing our parents. Moms and dads.
My dad was a giant, for sure.
Rickets whacked his legs when he was boy. Prison camp in WWII.
Malaria. Dude!
Giant shoulders in development.
Giant shoulders brought crashing to the ground by mycardial infarction. Heart attack? More like a heart explosion. 44 years old. That was 40 years ago. Damn, that's long ago, isn't it?!? Lots of memories built in those 40 years.
Exercise, baby!
Low fats. Monitor the cholesterol.
Be well, because if you're not well, if you're not alive, you're not a dad, anymore. You're just a memory.

2009-04-02T18:15:00.000-07:00

Dads are careful.

I still remember the feeling of holding our first child, Aran Brady Fitzpatrick. And second, Allwyn Gallagher Fitzpatrick, and third, too, Colin Gavin Seamus Fitzpatrick. (There's been a James Fitzpatrick in this clan for every generation I've been able to trace, so Seamus found his way in there).

Holding Aran. New child. New dad. Giving her a bath in the sink on the avenues in San Francisco. She's sort of sprawled on my fore arm, head in my hand, face up, watching--always watching! Towel wrapped around her torso. It's 1973 and I haven't cut my hair yet, and I glance in the mirror and turn to leave for the adjacent bedroom and the never to be forgotten sound of her head hitting the doorjamb.

Sort of hollow, sort of. Which makes it a clunk, sort of, but there's some whack in there too. Holy shit!

And the explosive reaction takes a moment. It's as if she actually took the time to think, 'What the hell?' and then she let it go.

Standing at her wedding and the celebrant asks, "Who is it that gives this woman to this man?" We do. I do, the guy who cracked her head on the doorjamb more than 20 years ago, I do.

2009-03-25T15:12:00.000-07:00

Dads dare.
Dads do. Consider how brave it is to be a good dad. What it takes. What the 'man' has to give up to be a good dad. Damn. It's a lot. Man stuff. Give it up, you're a dad, now. Be proud. It's the best, most challenging, most-in-your-face role you'll ever have. Dad. Congratulations, dad. Not too many are going to thank you, yet.

Dads are heroes for all of the right reasons.

Dads aren't nerds. Dads do nerdishness, just as they do great things, but by definition dads aren't nerds because dads have the ultimate purpose. To carry forth. To take forth; to be the future by helping children be prepared for the challenges they will face.

Ha. The future. Ten years ago? Find an iPod ad from the 90s. The future is not ours, it's theirs. My dad didn't blink, but he was random as a dad, too. Was he as responsible as he could have been? No. But he provided the freedom that built me.

I am my dad's extension. As are my children, and my grandchildren, and each of the 1000s of children I've worked with over the past 37 years.

Dads laugh.
They cry, too, but dads laugh, and more dads that can laugh with children then the better those children will be.
Laugh dad, laugh.
That's funny. Dad. Proudly. Laugh proudly, dad.

2009-03-24T17:03:00.000-07:00

Doing includes not doing. There's some things dads don't do. Dads don't hurt children. Dads help children.

I was up for jury duty in Santa Barbara last year and the case involved domestic violence. The question from the attorney screening potential jurors, "When is violence toward a spouse justifiable?" How about never! "Pick me! Ask me! NEVER!" Not ever. He figured it out, his client had beat up his wife, and he was looking for someone other than me.

What say ye? I say 'Men' get angry, dads don't. Dads are better than that.

I say dads do not get angry at their children or the mother, because if they do they know they can't. Dads don't do anger, they figure out something else, because they know it's them, or the situation, but certainly not the child.

A dad who gets angry at a child knows its the dad, not the child. Otherwise that dad's not a dad, he's just a 'man.'

Because really, if violence is your last resort, then what are you doing in that resort? Go somewhere else. Get a new travel agent!

Dads don't do violence. They don't hit, strike, spank, threaten, intimidate, humilate, or in any shape or form attack their children, or their spouse. Dads don't do that. Dads do some things, but they don't do that.

Dads discover. Dads dig into situations and realize they have more to learn. Dads delve into the unknown and realize there's an alternative to hitting children. Dads do things but they don't strike children. Right, dad?

2009-03-23T09:41:00.000-07:00

Dads. Dads do and they don't, and sometimes they should and others they shouldn't.

This is about what to do and why, and when, and not.

My dad did and didn't, and I have done and do, and now as a grandparent and lifetime educator with thousands of dads asking my advice I've decided to do this.

So, if you're a dad, or not, this could help. Or not.

Importantly, choosing to not do something is still doing something. It's still choosing, so it's more likely that other choices might be considered, too. Right?

This is about doing something. Doing, and hopefully it's the right thing to do, and often times the right thing to do ISN'T about or for the Dad, it's for others, especially for your children. Right, Dad?