The Walking Dead and Parenthood -- It's All About Family

I am a long time fan of the television show Parenthood, the sappy, award-winning drama about the everyday trials, tribulations and tragedies of the Braverman family. Every week, I record the latest episode on my DVR and then sit on my couch and sniffle over all the heartwarming and gut-wrenching moments.

Kristina's recovery from cancer. Hank's and Max's struggles with Asperger's. Joel and Julia's marital problems.  Amber's struggle with growing up and finding her way. Adam's stressed out existence as the one everyone depends on. Zeek's heart trouble and mortality. It all gets to me. I am a sensitive guy.  And my wife kindly reminds me, "It's just a television show. What is wrong with you?"

Parenthood is one show that my wife and I would make time to watch together. I would watch so I could  get all sentimental and think about how I hoped someday I would sit on a porch like Zeek with my daughter and have her tell me I was a "the best" father (sob... sob...). My wife Elena would watch the show so she could sit and laugh at me for acting like an idiot on the "crying couch" with my daughter Emma (also a sniffler).

Now, switch gears. I have recently become addicted to a different kind of show: The Walking Dead. This hit show with a cult-like following portrays people's struggle to survive in the weeks and months after a zombie apocalypse engulfs the world.


Skulls smashed with axes. Gun shots to the head. Herds of mindless zombies walking and devouring live victims in their path. The base reality of survival -- kill or be killed -- in all its raw glory. I sit there on my iPad watching episode after episode, cliffhanger after cliffhanger, addicted to this show.

As I watched the final episode of Parenthood tonight, I got to thinking, "How could the same person -- me -- love these two vastly different shows?" And the truth is it's all about family. The strength we find in family. They ways we define family. The bonds and commitments we have to each other.

It may seem odd, but here are a few of the family lessons, these shows share:

Family always has your back -- In Parenthood, no matter how many fights they might have or how much they might snipe about who was their parents' "favorite," in the end they always made up and stood up for each other. Adam and Crosby disagreed about the future of the business they started together, and things got very ugly. But in the end they were brothers and that trumped being business partners (eventually). In The Walking Dead, they were always willing to put their lives on the line for their group. When T-Dog got bit by a zombie, he didn't hesitate in sacrificing himself to the zombies to help Carol escape. Family means making sacrifices, making apologies and always having each other's back.

Cherish those "moments" -- Don't lose sight of the simple family moments -- the points scored in a basketball game, the excitement over a report card, crazy singing in the car... Or, the beauty of nature you can share -- the sunrise in your yard, the walk on the beach, the snowmen that you build. When Adam successfully bakes a souffle with a student with special needs, and neither of them had ever done it before, that was awesome -- a small victory against the world. When amidst all the death and hopelessness created by the "walkers," little Carl talks about the peaceful looking deer he got close to in the pasture, that is rejuvenating. The fact he could still see beauty in all that despair was cool. Don't let those "moments" pass unnoticed.  Enjoy them and remember them, always.

You don't choose your family -- or maybe you do -- At the end of the day, he's "my blood" is what redneck, arrow-slinging hero Daryl says about his choice to stay with his evil, racist, masochistic brother Merle. At the same time, their group is a band of strangers who bond like a family to survive and would do anything for each other (even chop off a friend's leg with an axe to save him from "turning"). In Parenthood, when Amber sleeps with her cousin Hattie's boyfriend, or when little Sydney screams at her newly adopted brother Victor, you know it will all work out. You're family -- for better, or worse.

I know this all may sound crazy and farfetched, but there has to be some reason I find these two insanely different shows so fascinating and enjoyable. If it's not the common theme of family, then I may have to admit that I am a weepy, emotional sap who cries at Hallmark commercials, while secretly wanting to enjoy the adrenalin rush of decapitating a crazed zombie with an old, rusty bread knife.

The Secrets of Super Heroes -- and Families -- Through the Eyes of a Seven-Year-Old

My little guy Will is a shy 7-year-old boy. He doesn't have whole lot to say to most people. Probably like a lot of little boys.  Words are just an unnecessary disruption between butt smacks, ear flicks and tickle fights.

Will speaks in brief sentences and one-word responses (Hi ... Bye ... Thank you...  Chicken fingers, please... More ketchup... I'm bored... Next question... Can we go home now?).

Light Him Up!

He fidgets and mumbles a bit when strangers try to speak with him (this means anyone who is not his mom, dad or sisters).  But once in a while, someone can hit on a topic that will get him excited. You see this little boy literally light up and give you a glimpse of all the wheels that are churning in that mind of his.

This week, we were in Ohio visiting with family and having to talk to lots of people.  Will was his usually quiet self, floating in and out of rooms of adults and older cousins to build Legos, watch an iPad or play video games by himself.

I had been teasing him all week that Batman wasn't really a superhero, just a rich guy with a bunch of gadgets and no superpowers (see this YouTube video).  Well, we visited with his Aunt Rita and she knows a whole lot about superheroes and comics (could be that she lives in Seattle, or that she owns a movie theater in Ohio. Not too sure how she gathered such knowledge). They compared notes on superheroes I had never even heard of, and he was quite excited to talk to her about all the members of the Justice League, their back stories and what made them superheroes.

Every Superhero Team Needs Key Players

Tonight, I decided to see what else he thought about superheroes and I got quite an education from my little genius.  He is actually quite a philosopher and I think he already has the makings of a doctoral thesis in the works.

According to Will, every good superhero team needs a few key players, and he can describe them and draw examples if you ask. As I listened to him, I was impressed with the characters he named and the traits he identified. The truth is I started to think about how his traits were needed in any good team or family.

• Every superhero teams needs a "strong guy, Dad." The Hulk. Thing. Maybe a Three-headed Dragon (see drawing).  Every family needs that "strong" person, too.  A family protector.  The emotional anchor. The person who can make the sacrifice, take the hits and just keeps on coming at you.
   
  
• He also said every team needs someone who can make things (see drawing). Weapons. Swords.  Someone who can use a frying pan (it's not a shovel or a mushroom, Dad), a drill, or a chainsaw to make important stuff for the team. They might even "have telekinesis, Dad." This might be the family member who cooks the meals, fixes the backed-up toilet, or can assemble an 800-piece Lego set.
  
  
  
   
• Every team also needs someone "who can control people's minds," according to Will (see drawing).  What? They "can make little people like themselves and control them with their hat." I think, in more politically correct terms, this might be someone who can "influence" people to do what they want.  The talker. The peacemaker. The diplomat. Or if you're more sinister, quite possibly, Rush Limbaugh or Taylor Swift.
  
  
  
• And, every superhero team needs a leader.  Captain America. Someone who rallies the troops, sets the plan and leads them into battle.  Someone who has the final word -- and can use arrows and a fire sword to provide clear direction.
  
  
  

• And, this one may surprise you -- but it may be the most insightful point of all.  Every team needs a "weird guy," too.  Someone who is a little different, or maybe funny like stretchy Mr. Fantastic or "the Green Goblin. He is crazy and funny, Dad." Every team and family needs that person who brings something unique to the mix. That laid-back person who sees the humor in life, keeps everyone smiling and loose, and keeps life and battles in perspective. In most White Houses, I think we call that person Vice President.

It was a great conversation that I may visit again with Will.  He has more points of views on animal-based superheroes and super pets, he tells me.

I learned a good deal about superheroes, power and teamwork from my conversation with Will. And, I learned a whole lot about a little boy who may just be my superhero.

Thanksgiving -- A List of Unappreciated Treasures

No surprise that I got to thinking this week about what I am truly thankful for in my life. As Thanksgiving approaches, I have a lot blessings in my life -- great family and friends, wonderful wife and kids, health, good job, etc. These are not things that we should take for granted.  They are things we all appreciate and they top the list when I think about my annual Thanksgiving toast.

But then I thought about other things that I enjoy.  Oddities that go unnoticed or unappreciated.  The conveniences, the technologies, the little treasures that make me happy.  The truth is there are many things that we take for granted.  Here are my top five "unappreciated" treasures:

Cheerios -- They are simple, delicious and healthy,.  They can travel.  They are just as delectable when you are 2 years old as when you are 92 years old.  I will eat them dry for a quick snack in the car.  They will be my cereal of choice when I grab the complementary continental hotel breakfast.  Every Saturday morning, I will make a nice tall glass of chocolate milk (with Quik, of course), and fill my glass with Cheerios.  Perfection.  Cheerios, those whole grain oats have been around since 1941, and they are a simple and reliable pleasure that I always appreciate.  You can read their history here.

GPS and Google -- I am nostalgic about many things, but not driving directions.  Global Positioning Systems (GPS), Google, etc., are amazing. I have no sense of direction.  I once crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge three times because I couldn't figure which side I should be on to get home. I know, pathetic. When I was growing up, you would call the person or place you were visiting to request directions.  I remember painstakingly writing down directions, praying that there would be no more than 3 or 4 turns off the highway, knowing I would wind up lost.  My glove compartment had an envelope with every set of directions I had ever written.  From a road trip to Syracuse to my friend's house in Monmouth Beach.  Times change.  This year, I went to Spain  and found my way around Barcelona and Sitges using Google maps.  How wonderful is it that my kids will never have to squint their eyes and try to read directions placed on the center of their steering wheel, as they drive down a dark road by themselves.  I love this stuff.


 
Smiles -- Smiles are infectious happiness.  My wife smiling at me across our desk.  My kids smiling at me to see if they can get out of trouble.  A friend nodding and smiling at you across the aisle at church.  Or, even a stranger smiling and saying good morning as they hold a door open. A brief grin makes anyone feel a little bit better.  It makes you know things aren't so bad if you're having a tough day.  It challenges you to think about what is worth smiling about in your life. A smile gives you hope and makes you warm.

 

On-demand anything -- Life is busy and hectic.  So many things have to happen at a certain time.  Get the kids to school.  Make that conference call.  Be at that practice.  So much is beyond our control.  When I am ready to finally collapse on the couch, and I want to watch a show or a movie, I don't want to channel surf.  I appreciate being able to call up Scandal and blast through the commercials.  When I get on the treadmill on a Saturday morning, I don't want to watch the news, cartoons, etc.  I want to catch up on The Blacklist. When I was young you scheduled a lot of your life around the TV you watched. It's nice that one pleasure can now be scheduled around me.

Laughter -- I don't mean the polite chuckle.  I mean real laughter.  I mean milk out of your nose laughter.  I mean the way comedians Bobby Collins and Dom Irrera would leave me and my friend Mark with tears running down our cheeks at a comedy club.  I mean laughter like the first time you saw the movie Airplane! or heard Robin Williams go on a riff!  That kind of laughter releases endorphins, relieves stress and improves your health.


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So, those are just a few of the unappreciated treasures I am thankful for this year...  What are yours?

I Wish We All Were Morning Persons

This morning -- after two weeks of getting back into the school routine with the kids -- I shared an observation with my wife, Elena (She really loves my observations -- especially in the morning when she is in the midst of packing lunches, dispensing inhalers and serving Cinnabons).

I told her, "In my experience, there are clearly two types of people in this world.  Those who wake up in the morning, get all their jobs done, and then relax until they need to leave ... and those who wake up in the morning, relax a bit, and then race to get all their jobs done before they have to run out the door."

"Good Morning, Good Morning, to You..."

You can probably guess that I am in the first category. As Sutton Foster likes to sing -- and now Emma serenades me with, too -- "I've always been a morning person."  For those, who like the classics, you can enjoy Gene Kelly, Deb Reynolds and Donald O'Connor here.

I have always been someone who likes to get the unpleasant stuff out of the way first and then get my reward. I eat all my corn first, so I can enjoy that delicious steak and butter-soaked baked potato as the last prize on my taste buds.  I'd rather unpack the car, the bags, etc., before I crash on the couch. Exercise before I eat the Dunkin Donuts Boston Kreme.

A delayed reward brings greater satisfaction in my mind.  You get all those other nuisances out of the way and enjoy yourself with a clear conscience.

That is my thinking, but I know it's not universal -- as evidenced by our morning family routine.

Up and At 'Em

On a weekday morning, I will get out of bed after one hit on the snooze.  I hit the shower, get dressed and do the first round of wake-up calls upstairs.  Then I feed the dog, let her out, start the breakfast prep for the kids, clear out the dishwasher, go back upstairs for the second round of wake-ups -- and then I am done.

I could throw on my coat, jump in the car and head to the office in the next second.  So, now, I get my reward. I can take a deep breath, watch Tom & Jerry with the kids, and read the newspapers on my iPad.



This drives my wife crazy.  Don't you think?

She gets up about a half hour later than me.  She checks her email in bed, makes sure everyone's clothes are laid out and brings our son Will downstairs for breakfast. She makes the kids lunches and checks that their backpacks are loaded.  Class notes and instructions (Bus rider ... car rider ... dance class ... volleyball, blah, blah, blah) are conveyed to our sleepy-eyed crew who stumble downstairs in various states of grumpiness.  Somewhere in between all this, Elena goes back upstairs to gets herself dressed for work, settle any bathroom wars between Emma and Tess, and comes back down to eat her own breakfast.

Training The Kids 

My son Will is being trained to understand his dad's wisdom.  He finishes his breakfast, brushes his teeth, gets dressed and tries to spend some time on the XBox without anyone bothering him.  Tess generally gets up, dressed and stays locked in her room until I complete a few yells to get in the car (or unless she feels the need to battle with Emma).  Emma, meanwhile, lopes downstairs, nice and relaxed and goes quietly through her routine.

On weekends, it's a whole different ballgame.  Saturday is "live and let live" day. No wake-up calls.  No orders.  Dad can get up at 7 a.m. and do whatever crazy routine he has -- and Emma snooze until noon.  On Sundays, we invoke "Sunday rules."  No one can turn on a TV, XBox or iPad until they are up, fed, cleaned, dressed and ready for church (this means socks and shoes on -- see this post on the Sockless Life).

I could argue until I am blue in the face why "my way is better" -- (and my wife might argue you that I don't do half of what I described myself doing on a weekday morning).  That is not the point, people. :)

The truth is ... people are wired one way or the other.  You're either a bounce out of bed, bring it on, morning person.  Or, you're an ease me into my day, what is the rush, person.

It can make for some bumpy mornings when these two worlds collide -- but peaceful coexistence is the basic goal... maybe one day a week.
  

A sockless life is a happy life

The truth is socks don't belong on feet -- at least not in my house.

I honestly don't know what it is about the socks in my house.  I walk in from work every night and I can follow the trail of socks from the mudroom ... to the living room floor ... to under the couch ... to between couch cushions ... to the stairs going up to the bedrooms.  Fallen "foot" soldiers strewn around my house.

A herd of socks forced together for photo

It's as if they are creatures with lives of their own.  Like those dried up crabs you find on the Jersey shore -- limp, still and stinky.

And there are rarely two socks together.  They live lonely, solitary lives once they leave my kids' feet.  They seem to repel each other.  Or, maybe they are like every bad horror movie where the two teens say, "We'll have a better chance if we split up," then one of them gets gutted by some chainsaw wielding psycho.  One lost single sock is all you ever find.

No socks were hurt in the documenting of this story

History of the Sockless

This is not a new phenomenon or unique to my house.  Apparently, the U.S. military has a long history of trying to solve the Lonely Sock problem, dating back to the Civil War.  You can read more about it here.

My family has never been big fans of socks.

The most famous of these demonstrations was Tess who quit soccer after a few weeks -- due to sock irritation.  Tess was about 5 and wanted to try playing soccer with her friends.  Like all good suburban parents, we signed her up, got all the gear -- soccer ball, cleats, shin guards ... and official fuzzy soccer socks.  After weeks of having tears over the socks every Saturday morning, it was over.  She would practically undress herself on the drive to the soccer field trying to get her socks comfortable and feeling just right. Screams and tears -- over socks.  Soccer would have to wait for another day.  Tess has now become a dancer and favors flip flops and dance shoes over ever wearing socks.

Barefeet rule 

The kids play basketball in the driveway in their barefeet. They run through the lawn chasing each other in barefeet.  If they are forced to put on sneakers, they probably don't have on socks.  There is rarely a moment in the house when socks are ever on their feet.

I went seeking the truth about why they don't wear socks and so I asked Emma:  "They make your feet all sweaty and stinky."  I asked Tess: "I don't like fabric on my feet."  And finally, I asked Will, my truthteller.  "I hate socks," he said quite simply.  "But why?" I pressed.  "BECAUSE I HATE SOCKS."  Duh!

So a sockless life seems to be a happy life -- at least for my kids.  No matter how much the sock "debris" around the house drives me crazy, it's a small price to pay for happiness.  Ironically, their grandfather always wears socks.  Lawn mowing accident.  Nine toes.  Long story for another day...  ;)