Fatherhood Journey

As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, July 27, 2016

My son, Adam, loves skim boarding. From an early age, he has been prone to concentrate on a single physical activity for a long time: building with blocks, digging holes, playing with Legos, drawing, bicycling — and now skim boarding.

He is fortunate to have access to a skim boarding paradise, near a family home by the Connecticut shore, where he has visited all of his seven summers and family has gathered for nearly 60 years. There, a sandbar — stretching up to 200 yards long and 30 wide — emerges at low tide.

I prefer mountains and forests to beach, but low tide is magical, especially when it arrives late in the day — when the sun hangs low and the crowds thin.

So when we recently arrived for the annual July 4th family gathering, learning low tide was at 2:30 p.m. that day, I smiled knowing our four-day visit would include a string of late afternoon sandbar outings.

It was about noon, and my wife, Lori, and I had barely sat down to eat before the kids had cleaned their plates, suited up, applied sun screen and collected their beach goods from the small shed out back. “We’re ready,” they implored.

Soon, my beach-loving wife headed to the shore with Adam and big sister, Zoe. I enjoyed a quiet house and the daily paper, assuring them I would soon follow.

I arrived just before dead low — the point where the tide has finished pulling back, and starts its imperceptible return. Adam threw down the shovel with which he had been digging — leaving a hole big enough to hold half-dozen kids. Grabbing his curved triangular shaped board, three times the width of his body and reaching his chest when stood on end, he began wading across the thin stretch of water that separates the shore from the sandbar, his legs excitedly pacing ahead of mine.

Adam has learned that the inner edge — the edge closest to the shore, protected from the waves that wash over the outer edge — is where to find the smooth water — and the best rides.

Adam first rode a skim board Memorial Day weekend, an experience involving equal frustration and joy, struggling to get on the board without falling, but experiencing moments of success.

The second day, after watching a seasoned local, a 20-year who lives near the shore, Adam began to develop his own technique.

He places his left hand on the upper left edge, just below the rounded tip, and his right hand on the notched tail. Focusing intently on the thin layer of water stretching beyond him, he takes three quick strides while swinging his arms back and up along his right side, then forward in one smooth motion, releasing the board across the surface of the water. As the board paces ahead, his legs speed up, taking eight steps, sometimes nine and occasionally 10, before placing his left foot below the tip of the board and, a split second later, his right foot above the tail.

Each day he stumbled back to the house to quench his thirst, satiate his ravenous hunger and eventually climb the rungs to his bunk, groaning that his legs were sore.

On the fourth day, low tide arrived after 5 p.m. Adam and I left Lori, Zoe and the cousins, who were collecting sea critters on the nub of exposed sand that first emerges as the tide pulls back. We traversed a stretch of knee-deep water before arriving at the long strip where Adam boards, just ahead of dead low. The water at the crest of the sandbar did not quite cover the tops of my feet, leaving an expanse of clear, shallow water, sparkling all the way to the horizon.

For nearly two hours, Adam threw, chased and rode his board, possibly 100 times, though I stopped counting at 50. After an especially smooth ride, or the occasional fall, Adam’s eyes would find mine. We acknowledged each other, sometimes chatted for a moment. Then, he would lift his board, set his gaze and start running.

As we shared the experience, I recognized in Adam an unwavering determination and the pure joy — his and mine — that flowed from his efforts. I wondered how I might support him, in the years ahead — when the world pushes hard against him — and in what ways he might apply his determined nature. I wondered how long Adam might love skim boarding.

But mostly, with the sandbar shrinking and the sun slipping lower, I was simply grateful to be his father.

Engaged fathers and paid family leave benefit all

As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Fatherhood changed my life, for the better.

By age 40, I already had much to be grateful for, but Zoe’s arrival — and Adam’s, nearly three years later — transformed me and my impact in the world.

Still, despite my desire to be a nurturing father — in partnership with my wife, Lori — I had no idea what I was in for and was frequently overwhelmed by the basic responsibilities of caregiving. I also had no idea that I was part of a cultural shift in which fathers increasingly engage in caregiving roles at home, a revolutionary act that is proving an effective driver for advancing gender equality, to the benefit of all.

A number of privileges made the steep learning curve faced by all parents a bit easier in our home. In short, we had college educations, years of exploring life and the world before meeting, middle-income jobs, good health and a shared commitment to co-parenting.

Lori took 12-weeks leave from work to be home with Zoe, unpaid. If we lived in any other industrialized nation in the world, Lori’s leave would have been paid. Still, she knew she was entitled to leave without risk of loosing her job, thanks to the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) of 1993.

As a college faculty member, my schedule was flexible enough for me to have an active role, sharing caregiving and domestic responsibilities from the beginning. And, as Lori’s leave came to an end and she returned to a part-time role at the hospital, I utilized my employers paid family leave policy to be at home with Zoe, while Lori worked. The policy provided me with one semester of partial leave — 16 weeks of half-time work for full-time pay. Including the month-long semester break before my leave and the summer break following, I was the primary caregiver for Zoe three to four days per week for nine out of the first 12 months of her life.

This policy removed a significant economic barrier that otherwise would likely have meant Lori would have sacrificed her job and income earning potential or Zoe would have been in day care as an infant.

And while neither of those outcomes would have been detrimental, they were not what Lori and I felt was in our family’s best interest. Instead, I was afforded the opportunity to develop my caregiving capacities, bonding with Zoe. We became more nimble as a family, together Lori and I balanced the demands of at-home parenting and fluctuating access to income and benefits, including both being laid off during the Great Recession — when we were expecting our second child, Adam.

The experiences of caregiving and shared decision-making at home led me to a professional role promoting healthy masculinity and advancing gender equality. In this role, I have come to understand two basic truths related to my own experience of engaged fatherhood, both of which are highlighted in a recently released report, the ‘State of America’s Fathers (SOAF),’ produced by Promundo-US, which is part of a global organization promoting caring, equitable masculinities and gender relations.

One is that there is mounting evidence of a multitude of benefits associated with increasing men’s involvement with their children, as defined by prenatal support of the mother, being present for the birth of the child and taking parental leave to care for the child. The report summarizes these benefits, and includes hundreds of research citations.

Benefits to children include: better physical and mental health, boys acceptance of equality across genders, girls’ increased sense of autonomy and empowerment, decreased exposure to violence, increased educational attainment, fewer behavioral problems and greater resilience.

Benefits to women include: lower rates of postpartum depression, better maternal health, better relationships, decreased exposure to domestic and intimate partner violence, more equitable sharing of domestic chores that are traditionally completed by women, and greater economic equality.

Benefits to men include: increase in health-seeking behaviors, increased levels of self-esteem, decreased substance abuse, improved relationship satisfaction, increased levels of social and community connection, increased civic engagement and brain and body chemistry changes, similar to that experienced by women, that support emotional capacity for care giving.

Benefits in the workplace include: Equal women’s pay and advancement, increased employee morale and productivity and decreased employee turnover.

And, these benefits pay forward, with research demonstrating that children of engaged fathers are more likely to reflect the qualities and practices associated with an increase in gender equality, to the benefit of all.

But while this body of research affirms for Lori and me what we know to be true from our own experience, the report makes a second — and painful — truth evident: Very few American parents have access to paid parental leave.

According to the SOAF report, almost 90 percent of Americans, and 95 percent of low-income fathers, lack access to paid family leave through their employers, making my access to half-paid parental leave a luxury. Furthermore, while federal policy (FMLA) in the United States ensures 12-weeks of unpaid leave for working parents, eligibility requirements mean that only 40 percent of American workers actually qualify. Additionally, 95 percent of low-wage workers either lack access to FMLA, cannot afford to take 12-weeks of unpaid leave or both.

In other words, the culture shift of engaged fatherhood, in which I locate myself, is inaccessible to most Americans.

The path forward — a path that helps ensure reduced barriers and greater access to a volume of benefits — must be paved by policy reform, and the report offers promising evidence that such reform is both possible and beneficial.

Internationally, the SOAF report cites, Denmark, Sweden, Iceland, Norway and the Netherlands, where national governments provide paid parental leave, nearly 90 percent of fathers take parental leave.

Nationally, California, New Jersey, Rhode Island and New York have adopted statewide paid family leave. Evidence is proving that such policies can be financed through a payroll tax of about 1 percent, hardly a burden on society. And, research in California shows that most businesses report no increased costs, no instances of policy abuse, and a host of workplace benefits.

A growing list of cities, including, Boston, have enacted paid parental leave for city employees. In January 2016, the U.S. military announced a new policy expanding paid maternity and paternity leave for enlisted employees. In addition, paid family leave campaigns are currently active in 26 states and 17 cities.

I am driven — by the passion of my own experience, the mounting evidence of public benefit and a moral obligation to serve fathers and families — to work toward paid family leave policies that are equally accessible to all.

So, I joyfully celebrated Father’s Day with Lori, Zoe and Adam — and all the ways that engaged fatherhood has benefited us.

MERGE for Equality, which I serve as executive director joins its organizational partner, MenCare, an international campaign active in nearly 40 countries, in calling for paid family leave, here in the United States.

To read the full ‘State of America’s Fathers’ report, the MenCare Parental Leave Platform, view related videos and access additional resources visit the MERGE Advocacy page at mergeforequality.org/advocacy/.

John Engel of Florence is the Executive Director of MERGE for Equality. He can be reached through his website http://www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

Read more on this topic – see cross-post below:  

‘Balancing Act’ columnist, Heidi Stevens, of the Chicago Tribune offers a compelling piece that highlights the need for family policy reform. Steven’s column was posted on Chicagotribune.com, June 16, 2016.

U.S. parents are unhappier than those in 22 countries

Remember that study last year that found parenting is the worst?

It’s seriously the worst for American parents.

Researchers with the Council on Contemporary Families examined data from 22 developed countries measuring the “happiness penalty” (the rate at which parents report lower happiness, mental well-being and marital satisfaction levels than nonparents) and found that parents in United States have the largest gap.

Our gap is significantly larger than Australia’s gap and Great Britain’s gap, according to a briefing about the report. (The full report will be published in American Journal of Sociology in September.) And they found that in some countries — Hungary and Norway, for example — parents are actually happier than nonparents.

What are we doing wrong?

Researchers looked at all sorts of factors, including levels of unplanned parenthood, average family size and the cost of raising children. They found that workplace policies are the single biggest influence on happiness levels.

“What we found was astonishing,” write authors Jennifer Glass, Robin Simon and Matthew Andersson. “The negative effects of parenthood on happiness were entirely explained by the presence or absence of social policies allowing parents to better combine paid work with family obligations. And this was true for both mothers and fathers.”

Researchers looked at the duration of paid parental leave, the number of annual paid sick and vacation days guaranteed by law, the average cost of child care for a 2-year-old child compared to median wage and the availability of flexible work schedules.

“We gathered this policy information for all 22 of our countries, along with their Gross Domestic Product and their fertility rate, to make sure that our findings were not simply reflecting the effects of living in a richer country versus a poorer one,” the authors note.

It’s almost like trying to raise children and earn a living in a country with zero weeks of guaranteed paid leave and child care that costs as much as college is draining. Who knew?

Parents. Parents knew. (And know.)

But better policies benefit nonparents as well, argues social historian Stephanie Coontz, research director at Council on Contemporary Families.

“We have reams of research showing that investing in children’s well-being benefits all members of society down the road, in lower crime rates and more productive employees,” she says in a statement. “This study highlights that, even when it comes to personal happiness, supporting working parents is not a zero-sum game.”

Let’s hope it’s a game our policymakers want to win.

hstevens@tribpub.com

Twitter @heidistevens13

Celebrating 10 years of fatherhood, and 50 years of living

As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, May 25, 2016

Most of my life 50 seemed old. My father was 24 when I arrived, so by the time I reached 26 – when I was still pretending I had life all figured out – my father turned 50. I thought he, and his cohort, were old.

Recently I turned 50, and now – 50 no longer seems old. Instead, even as someone who leans toward the serious side, I am finding 50 exciting, celebratory – even more joyous than 40.

And forty was great! Lori and I – recently married and living the good life in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains – celebrated my 40^th surrounded by friends at a Mexican restaurant, our first-born, Zoe, soon to arrive.

Since then, Zoe and younger brother Adam have revealed to me – repeatedly and often with painstaking clarity – how little I had figured out in my first forty years.

Together, with Lori, they have helped me grow and become more whole as a person in ten years of fatherhood, than in my previous twenty years of adulthood. Daily, these precious young people, with their infectious curiosity, zest for adventure and expanding sense of self, bring my focus back to what matters most.

So as my big day approached, excitement in our home grew as Zoe and Adam helped Lori plan a celebration, doing their best to keep it a secret.

My actual birthday, which landed on a Thursday, included a celebratory breakfast with gifts, an all-day hike – by myself, and family dinner on the outdoor terrace of a local restaurant – a perfect combination.

But the secret plan was not fully revealed until that Saturday evening, when I returned home to a backyard full of friends, 20 kids buzzing about, and a make your-own-burrito bar. The enthusiastic faces of Adam, Zoe and the neighborhood children, as they guided me into the backyard, will long remain a cherished memory.

Before blowing out the candles I soaked in the site of all the amazing people in my life who had gathered to celebrate and felt blessed to be alive and grateful for 10 years of fatherhood – the most joy and meaning filled years of my half-century of living. I am confident that 60 – and 20 years of fatherhood, will be even sweeter.

Kids need more time to be kids

As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, April 27, 2016

Kids thrive with ample outdoor play. So I was reminded when I recently chaperoned a field trip for third-graders at a local park, where a parent, who is a fish biologist by day, worked with teachers to coordinate a set of pond study activities.

It was nearly spring break and students and teachers alike seemed to relish the opportunity to be outside, particularly, I thought, in contrast to long winter months of indoor learning and recent standardized testing sessions, each had endured.

To manage the flow of roughly 50 9-year olds, teachers divided the students into three teams. The first station, for the students to which I was assigned, included a host of art supplies – color pencils, markers, water colors and artist pads – and each child was encouraged to create a landscape image of the pond and surrounding terrain.

Clustered in small groups along the edge of a grassy slope, the kids set about creating their artistic renderings. My daughter Zoe, an art enthusiast, was in her element, chatting with friends as they sketched. As I roamed about, peeking at the drawings and helping students settle into the activity, I made my way to a boy who had found a spot away from the others.

His place was partially shaded from the morning sun by a stand of trees that stood at the water’s edge, where two other students eventually joined him. Paying little attention to my presence, the boy spoke to his peers with convincing sincerity, “I love art. It’s so peaceful. You can do whatever you want, there are no rules and no one tells you what to make.”

I walked away, thinking –  kids need more time for art.

At the next station students were encouraged to search for pond critters. The teacher and I each used long nets to dredge the bottom for muck, which we plopped into large plastic boxes. In teams of three, students sifted through their respective piles of mud and leaves, transferring the aquatic insects, crayfish and other creatures they found into separate containers of clear pond water for closer examination.

While a few students were restless during the brief instruction phase, once the hands-on learning began all students remained focused and engaged throughout the activity. Their enthusiasm was infectious as they screamed and giggled with delight at each new discovery, celebrating successes with other teams and never once requiring redirection.

I walked away, thinking –  kids need more time for nature studies.

My attention quickly shifted as I returned home to squeeze in a few hours of work before it was time to meet the school bus. Later, when Zoe stepped off the bus, she was beaming, looking refreshed from a day of outside adventure and discovery.

Younger brother Adam, on the other hand, grunted, passed his backpack to me and raced up the alley toward home. By the time Zoe and I walked in the door he had visited the bathroom, washed his hands and was halfway through his snack.

Moments later he rushed outside where he proceeded to set-up a temporary rock smashing station in the front yard, the full scale operation is located behind the house. There in the warmth of the afternoon sun, he knelt in the grass. With both hands firmly gripping the ballpeen hammer he had picked out at the local big box store last summer, he pounded a large rock that he had positioned atop a brick.

Swing after swing his 6-year old arms guided the hammer to the rock with notable intensity, in contrast, I imagined, to the indoor learning activities that had filled his day.

Each time a chunk broke loose, he paused, peering through his wrap-around safety glasses to examine the colors and crystals that were revealed. Satisfied, he continued, accumulating a collection of specimens to add to the rock and mineral museum he and sister Zoe created.

I have learned that the best chance of hearing what Adam is really thinking means waiting until we are snuggled in bed for story time. So that night, when I asked Adam what he most enjoys about hammering rocks he said, “Finding crystals.” When I asked how it feels to swing the hammer he said: “It feels good.” And, when I asked him what is like when the hammer hits the rock he said: “It’s exciting.”

After Adam fell asleep, I left his room, thinking –  kids need more time for smashing rocks.

John Engel of Florence can be reached through his website http://www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

By John Engel For the Gazette

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Humans are social creatures by nature. Our lives begin, continue and end in relationship to others, and our well-being is enhanced by the quality of our connections. I was reminded of this in a workshop I attended at the 17th Annual New England Fathering Conference in Groton, Connecticut.

The fiery, humorous presenter – whose last name is Fitzgerald  – offered a rousing performance on St. Patrick’s Day, much to the delight of the nearly 400 participants, mostly professionals who promote engaged fatherhood and healthy families.

The key learning for me came from an overview of “Nurturance Styles,” five ways humans emotionally and physically care for each other through touch, affirmation, gifts, quality time and service. As the presenter offered examples supporting each of the five styles, I began to recognize the tendencies and individual preferences for how we nurture in our family as well as challenges we sometimes experience in giving and receiving care.

Hours later, having been away at the conference for two days, I returned in time to meet daughter, Zoe, and son, Adam, ages 9 and 6, as they stepped off the school bus. I was poised, ready to notice our nurturing styles.

As I anticipated, Adam offered me a guarded reception – a response I often experience from him when we first reconnect at day’s end, especially after I have been gone for a night or more – and ran up the alley for home.

Zoe reached for my hand and we strolled up the alley as she chattered about her day.

It was a Thursday, so the routine included unload backpacks, wash hands, eat snacks and off to the YMCA for Zoe’s gymnastics practice — where I benefit from a quick workout as Adam enjoys the supervised play area. For many months this winning combination meant we all looked forward to Thursday afternoons.

Recently, however, Adam has grown weary of this schedule, seeking nurturance from me in the form of quality time — reading books and drawing in his sketchpad. And while Adam’s request for this type of connection means I miss a workout, I have readily seen how much it means to him, and me.

So, as Zoe and Adam finished their snacks, I asked Adam if he wanted to go to child watch, read and draw with me in the lobby or split the time and do 30-minutes of each. “I want to play in child watch the whole time,” he reported. I double-checked, thinking that perhaps following my overnight absence, Adam might want some one-on-one time with me. Nope, not today, was his clear message.

When we got to the Y, I happily put on my ear buds and listened to the latest election news while logging a 30-minute cardio workout. By the time I finished though, I realized that I was a bit disappointed that Adam had chosen the group play over time with me. I realized that after my trip I, too, was seeking family connection and so I snuck into the gymnasium just in time to watch Zoe practice on the bars — her favorite gymnastics element.

Afterward, she and her peers lined up at the water fountain where I shared with her my amazement at both her determination and skill level. We both reached out to briefly touch hands, then, glowing, she was off to floor exercises.

Back home, Zoe headed to the basement and Adam to his room, while I started supper. Ten minutes later Adam emerged with a smile, handing me a book of shark sketches that he had just created, “this is for you,” he said. His gift signaled that he was ready to reconnect. Just as he use to do by handing me a special stone, stick or art creation, when I picked him up from preschool.

Lori returned from work, Zoe and Adam greeted her full force, she and I briefly embraced and then we sat down for supper. Finally, the moment arrived when Zoe and Adam returned to play and Lori and I had some time to ourselves as we cleaned the kitchen. Within moments, however, Adam returned, asking me to wrestle.

Finally, Zoe and Adam were tucked in and Lori and I were tuckered out, which meant ending the day without fully reconnecting. Noticing this reminded me that while the five nurturing styles — touch, affirmation, gifts, quality time and service — are simple, and ones we routinely experience in our family, the art and practice of caring for each other requires ongoing conversation and commitment, especially with those we love most.

John Engel of Florence is a consultant and director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website http://www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

Presidential politics offer teachable moment

As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Presidential primaries are entertaining and instructive. Candidates, voters and media outlets collude to ensure that private and public conversations are flooded with a surplus of outlandish, contradictory and highly improbable claims.

So when Adam, my 6-year old son, asked, “Why is everyone talking about Donald Trump,” and big sister Zoe added, “Yea, what’s up with that,” I rolled my eyes, and paused to consider how I might respond to this more than reasonable question — a question many adults are asking.

Many years ago, I was afforded the responsibility to decide which students earned a passing grade in the American Government classes I taught — and by extension, which students were eligible to graduate from high school.

Much to my dismay, a few years of teaching lead me to the realization that not all teenagers are ready and interested in learning about the complex, abstract concepts of the U.S. Constitution, nor the messy practice of representative democracy.

Likewise, as my youthful idealism waned, I struggled to maintain my passion for the political process, leaving me ill-equipped to inspire young and often uninterested students.

The current presidential primary season has failed to reignite my political passion, leaving me feeling as challenged to inspire Adam and Zoe about the importance of the presidential election cycle as I was with my former students.

Still, before answering Adam and Zoe’s questions about Donald Trump, I wanted to explain the role of the American president in a way that was understandable from a first- and third-grade view of the world. I shared with Zoe and Adam that the president is the leader of the United States in a way that is similar to the principal being the leader of their school.

They appeared to follow my comparison, so I asked them, “What makes a good principal?”

“Someone who makes sure that kids follow the rules,” Zoe answered, and “someone who lets us do what we want, like have extra recess,” added Adam.

And there it was, Zoe and Adam had clearly identified the central tension of the American political process — the tenuous balance of rights and responsibilities.

The presidential primaries have a way of bringing this perennial conflict into sharp relief, in rather spectacular fashion this season. Voters collectively demand a list of rights, which are improbable for most and acutely absent for far too many, while at the same time assigning responsibilities to others, especially to those who are deemed different or less deserving. In turn, candidates desperately seek to reassure everyone — voters and themselves — that they can protect rights and hold others accountable, better than anyone else.

But we live in a very complex world, where the intersection of domestic policy, international relations and ecological realities mean that no president — no human being — can effectively deliver on this agenda. So, we are chronically disappointed in our candidates and presidents, asserting that we deserve better.

Meanwhile, Adam may not get extra recess as often as he would like and Zoe is sometimes disgruntled when her peers do not follow the rules, but, in their own way, they have both learned that their school community works best when rights and responsibilities are shared by everyone.

In this way, Adam and Zoe have not only experienced an example of effective leadership in their principal, but have begun to participate as members of a political community.

As their world expands and becomes more complex, our role as parents includes helping Zoe and Adam remember that while they have certain political rights, they also have a responsibility to help ensure the rights of others.

As for Donald, my responsibility to public reasonableness, trumps my right to free speech.

John Engel of Florence is a consultant and director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

Finding ways to promote healthy family choices

By JOHN ENGEL

For the Daily Hampshire Gazette

Tuesday, January 26, 2016, (Published in print: Wednesday, January 27, 2016)

Kids naturally make healthy choices. This is what my 6-year old Adam recently reminded me.

Of course, sometimes he also reminds me that, like all humans, he benefits from guidance in his decision-making. But were I to add up the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of decisions he makes in a day, I am confident that I would support nearly all of them. Interesting then, that so much of my parental energy is sometimes focused on the small percentage of choices he and 9-year old sister Zoe make which I don’t like.

On a recent Saturday, in an after-dinner conversation with friends who have the wisdom that comes with being empty-nesters, I shared my concerns about Adam’s eating habits. He has shifted from being adventurous to very particular — and vocal — about his food preferences.

Our friends pointed out that each of their children went through similar phases and both are healthy eaters as adults. Ah, the wisdom of hindsight.

The next day, our family went on a hike and picnic with friends where we ate sandwiches and snacks under a tarp on top of a wooded overlook. The other father made a wood fire in a small portable stove, on which he heated his rather healthy sandwich — humus, avocado, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Adam intently observed the entire process — fire-building, sandwich-making, eating.

Monday morning, after Lori had prepared oatmeal for three of us and waffles for Adam — his request — I asked for lunch orders, while clearing the table. From his room, Adam shouted, in a matter-of-fact voice — “I want two pieces of bread with lettuce, avocado and tomato!”

I have never seen Adam eat this before and I was quite certain had I suggested it, he would have rejected it — with flare. I paused: “What a great choice, Adam.”

Then I made the sandwich wondering how he came to such a decision.

I realized that instead of wondering, “How do I get Adam to eat healthy food,” I should be asking myself, “What are the conditions that lead to good food choices.

Three key conditions came to mind.

Access to healthy and affordable food is essential. While my son has this, the realization reminded me to express gratitude for community organizations such as CISA (Community Involved in Sustaining Agriculture) which support a vibrant local food system, and the Food Bank of Western Massachusetts, which works tirelessly to ensure those with limited resources have access to food that many of us take for granted.

Setting a positive example is also essential. Leaving foods at the grocery store which we don’t want our family to eat is step one. Breaking bread with friends who value healthy food choices, so that Zoe and Adam can learn by example beyond the push and pull of parent–child relationships, is a tangible benefit of community.

Having faith that creating healthy conditions leads to good choices is also important, and challenging. This faith is grounded in the belief that life has a natural inclination toward health and survival. This reminds me of farming practices where some growers put their primary focus on building and maintaining nutrient-rich soil, a condition essential for healthy plants.

So, for now, I am vowing to spend more time focusing on ways to create conditions that promote healthy choices for Zoe and Adam, and less time fretting.

I am also hoping that given their tender ages of 9 and 6, a few years of this parenting practice will help ensure healthy choices when they start dating and driving.

John Engel of Florence is a consultant and director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

One father’s holiday gift to himself – and his family

(As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, December 30, 2015)

The holiday season is upon us. For many of us, the stretch from Thanksgiving through New Years Day adds layers of complexity to the normal pace of family life. The sequence of festive social engagements, gift buying and consumption of seasonal food and drink can produce emotional, physical and financial stress alike.

It can also be an especially difficult stretch for those who are grieving, experiencing difficult family dynamics or struggling to make ends meet, especially when customs suggest it is a time for connection and celebration.

This seasonal pattern of physical and emotional distress ranges from inconvenient to quite serious; known among mental health and medical providers who routinely experience increased caseloads at this time of year.

It is tempting to explain this seasonal cycle as a product of a cultural tendency toward excess, as in elevating expectations and working really hard at celebrating, leaving us depleted, in many ways.

In this regard, our family antidote – keeping the holidays simple – tends to serve us well. Our kids, Zoe and Adam, who are 9 and 6 years old respectively, enjoy making gifts for each other and for my wife Lori and I. This year they even made and wrapped mini-gifts for each of their stuffed animals and dolls!

We all enjoy making and eating simple, healthy food. We spend Thanksgiving Day with family and the rest of the weekend at home. We go for a hike on Christmas Day. And, we set personal and family intentions for the New Year. These are some of the seasonal rituals that help us find connection and meaning during the holiday season.

And yet, keeping the holidays simple, I confess, is also driven by my own tendency toward excess. I set high expectations for myself and fill my days from early to late, often leaving me too tired, frayed or distracted to be fully present for celebrating, when holidays arrive. I suspect I am not alone in this regard.

Granted, there is certain inevitability to all of this – living in a fast-paced world, doing our best to meet the basic needs of our family and tending to relationships, in short – the everyday madness of being human.

Nonetheless, in an effort to both restore my own sense of balance and be more present with family during the holidays, I am warming up to the belief that celebration and self-care are not mutually exclusive, as I am prone to see them. Rather, both are expressions of wellbeing, which is best celebrated daily, not just at the holidays.

Making this shift feels a bit like trying to reverse the flow of a fast-moving river, or adding one more expectation to a life that already feels full. So, I am vowing to keep it simple, by expanding an existing practice, not adopting a new one.

At days end, I have a practice of asking Zoe and Adam: What was special about your day? Their spirits rise and they always have something positive to say – often lots to share. Yet, I generally don’t ask, let alone answer, this question myself. Instead, I tend to reflect on my day in terms of what I accomplished and subsequently what I still have left to accomplish on my to-do list, which reinforces my tendency to do rather than be. This is not an uplifting way to end, or start, the day.

So my holiday gift – to myself and my family – is a commitment to add two additional questions to our evening conversations: What’s one thing we can we celebrate today and what’s one way I took care of myself today?

This simple practice – the ritual of asking questions that promote wellbeing – is a gift that I hope will keep on giving each and every day, all year long.

John Engel of Florence is a consultant and director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

Finding our role in ending violence

(As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, November 25, 2015)

Peace is possible. I want our children — all children — to hold this belief as sacred, even as the trauma from the recent terrorist attacks in Paris continues to ripple.

Our outrage with such public and extreme acts of violence is justified. Our desire to bring to justice those who have committed these acts is understandable and efforts to prevent similar acts are commendable.

And yet, our collective response to private acts of violence — domestic and interpersonal — is far too muted.

On the surface, international terrorism and domestic violence are starkly different. But they are similar, too.

We rightly hold terrorism to be an extreme form of violence, but is the physical and sexual abuse perpetrated within families really less extreme?

While terrorist attacks generally take place on a greater scale, they are relatively infrequent. Domestic violence occurs in our communities every day. And, like terrorism, at its core is force used to damage, maim and kill people.

Given the well-documented rates of domestic violence, I realize that at school, my children, Zoe and Adam, inhabit classrooms, playgrounds and school buses with peers who are witnesses to, and survivors of, violence in their homes. Far too often, the suffering experienced by these children — and the adults in their homes — goes unnoticed, or worse, noticed but under-addressed. In turn, their trauma becomes the secondary trauma of others — children, teachers, co-workers and friends — who are affected by their pain.

This is why I want our children to recognize that we each have a role in ending violence by being agents for change.

I want our children to know that people who are hurt need support and safety. I want them to know that those who observe people hurting other people also hurt, on the inside. I want them to know that people who hurt others need to be held accountable and need to heal, as many are also survivors of violence.

And I want our children to know that there are people — like the staff and volunteers of organizations such as our own local Safe Passage — who work to stop the cycle of violence and the pain it creates.

While I struggle to find the words to teach our 9- and 6-year-olds about international terrorism, I can tell them that peace in our community is possible when we all claim our role in ending violence. This is the message my wife, Lori, and I will share with Zoe and Adam when the four of us participate in the 12th Annual Hot Chocolate Run to end domestic violence Dec. 6. The event helps fund Safe Passage which serves survivors of domestic violence, their children, friends and families.

While the 2015 Hot Chocolate Run is sold out, all are welcome to make a financial donation at www.hotchocolaterun.com.

To learn more about the issue, visit www.safepass.org. Also visit www.hmbnetwork.org, home of the Healthy Men and Boys Network, an organizational partner of Safe Passage committed to preventing and eliminating inequality and violence.

John Engel of Florence is a consultant and director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website www.fatherhoodjourney.com.

Lessons from a little boy and his octopus

(As published in the Daily Hampshire Gazette, October 28, 2015)

Closing the beach house is bitter sweet. Typically, it’s a time for chores, chilly weather and long good-byes. This year, warm, sunny days and a special guest offered a fitting farewell to the season.

During the annual deep cleaning of the shed — when enough stuff to fill a football stadium is unpacked from an 8-foot by 8-foot space — our kids, Zoe and Adam, were reunited with kites they had not seen since spring. They squealed with delight and made plans for the season’s final flight.

After lunch we headed to the beach. Zoe’s rainbow colored triangular kite launched with ease. After a few technical adjustments, Adam’s multi-colored octopus kite, with eight long tentacles acting as tails, took flight.

Not to be outdone by big sister, Adam spooled out string with reckless abandon and soon his octopus was halfway to the moon. He wondered aloud if a sea gull or small plane might crash into it. His tone suggested both concern and pride.

I remember watching Adam the first time he flew this kite, his tiny 2-year old body zig-zagged across the beach, gripping the spool with all his might. I was certain the winds would lift his little body away and I chased after him, just in case.

Now at age 6, his hands and arms much stronger, he capably piloted his flying octopus. His joy — pure delight — was every bit as sweet, and this time I sat content in a beach chair and admired his confidence.

Finally, he started reeling in his friend, but the wind tugged in a way his hands did not anticipate. The handle escaped, bouncing across the sand then up and away. Miraculously, the bright, blue handle wedged between the spindles of a railing on a third-floor balcony two houses down the beach.

Adam shook and sobbed inconsolably, “I want my kite. I want my kite.”

I marveled at the lucky catch, certain the kite was recoverable.

Approaching the house, we could see the hurricane shutters were tightly latched and a dated piece of junk mail hung from the door, suggesting the owners were gone until spring.

I assured Adam, and myself, that eventually the wind would stop and the kite would fall to the ground. We set out to locate the spot in the adjacent neighborhood where we thought the kite would eventually land.

As we walked, I recalled how weeks earlier, feeling some overwhelm, I said to Adam, as we snuggled into his lower bunk for story time, “Daddy had a rough couple days — with work and home projects not going well. What do you think I could do that would help me feel better?”

Without hesitation he responded, “You should just forget about it until you have to deal with it.”

His wisdom had hung with me and so I gently served it back to him as we stood on the street, looking up at his flying octopus.

We headed back to the house and climbed the ladder to the flat roof where I had scraped and primed siding and trim that morning. Much to our delight, framed within the arc of two colorful maple trees, we could see the octopus hanging high in the sky — three blocks away. Throughout the evening we ascended the ladder to check on our friend. Darkness arrived, the winds increased and we hoped for a calm morning.

Before breakfast we climbed to the roof. The kite was no longer visible.

Excitedly, we descended the ladder and raced down the street. But the kite was not where we anticipated, and after searching the surrounding neighborhood, twice on foot and once by car, we returned home to comfort ourselves with pancakes and maple syrup.

We joined family for the final cleaning and packing chores, both feeling a mix of hope and despair. By late morning we all decided it was time for one last trip to the beach — both a farewell to the shore we would not see until spring and the moment when Adam and I would need to accept the loss of his kite.

Adam, Zoe and I decided to take one last look at the railing where the kite had tethered itself. We approached the house from a slightly different angle. The sun, nearing its mid-day arc, brightly illuminated a white string that stretched across the rooftops of four houses. We cheered and ran for the street. Moments latter, we found the octopus resting aside the road.

Adam grabbed the kite, pulling it to his chest. I grabbed the string and pulled until it broke, leaving about 50 feet still attached to the kite. Adam grinned and said, “Let’s go fly it!”

And as we did, I recalled his sagely advice: “Just forget about it, until you have to deal with it.”

John Engel of Florence is an organizational consultant and Director of the Healthy Men and Boys Network. He can be reached through his website www.fatherhoodjourney.com.