The Three C's of Great Mentoring

The other night I went to a fancy business dinner and ran into a long-time mentor of mine. Seeing him for the first time in a couple of years, I started to think about whether he realized the positive impact he had on me, my career and even my family. His advice and actions over the years had been very meaningful to me.  I took him aside for a moment and said thanks.  Thanks for everything.

He was someone I had turned to at key times in my career. When I was stepping into my first real leadership role with difficult personnel decisions, he was there with advice and help. When I was leaving the "nest" of one company to venture off to another, he was there to wish me luck and reassure me. When I was looking to make another career change, he helped open a door and gave me good advice about my life, not just my career.

I've been fortunate to have several special mentors in my career.  People who shaped me, steered me and set me on my path. As I reflect on what the best mentors in my life have given me, the truth is it can be summarized in 3 C's: Counsel, Candor and Confidence.

Counsel

Every good mentor provides you with the counsel, advice and opportunities to grow and develop your skills.  Some of the most valuable mentoring I received came from just sitting across the desk of one of my bosses. I've never read a text book that could really show you the art of media relations -- the trust-building with reporters ... the artful back and forth negotiations ... the anticipation of issues and answers ... the careful choices of words. For several years, my boss would call me up to her office for a call with The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times. Sometimes I might be prepping her with background on the issue, but more often it was just the chance to sit across the desk, listen and learn.

I had another mentor who showed me the ropes when I transitioned to a new company with a very strong and distinct culture. She wasn't in public relations like me -- and to be honest there weren't a whole lot of PR people that she felt were real valuable -- but I was able  to gain her respect and trust with some good writing and strong work ethic. I remember the first time I had to convince one of the company's top executives -- her boss -- to take my advice about a press release. He was not easily convinced about my strategy and it was an early "make or break" moment in our relationship. My mentor took the time to listen to me, advise me on the best way to present myself and make my case to him, and she even put herself in my corner by giving her support.

A mentor's counsel can run from the simple advice about how to edit your latest speech -- "When in doubt, cut your first paragraph and get to the point." -- to the subtle advice on etiquette and corporate culture -- "Let the big executives get on the corporate jet first and then you get on, go to the back of the plane and stay quiet." It's those memorable and meaningful lessons that can make a huge difference in your career -- or at least help you avoid some embarrassing moments.

Candor

The best mentors have the ability to tell you the things others won't.  They care enough to be critics and to provide a candid view of what you need to know.

When I was still relatively young in my career, I was having trouble relating to a peer in our group, something I hadn't run into before. There was friction and tension between us and I just couldn't understand it. My mentor broke it to me, "the naive corporate kid": "Look, not everyone is going to like you, Bill. Not everyone wants to be your friend.  And not everyone is going to be happy about you doing a good job. That's not how it always works.  Figure it out. Deal with it."

Another time, I had decided to buy an electric razor and stop shaving with a blade (this was before today's stubble beards had become fashionable). After a few days, my mentor noticed a bit more of a five o'clock shadow, and she asked me, "What are you doing?" I told her I had gotten a new electric razor, blah, blah, blah. In her direct and subtle style, she said, "Yeah? Well it's not working.  Lose the razor and go shave."  Not everyone will be that candid with you.  Maybe just your mother -- and a good mentor.

Confidence

 And, the last thing a mentor gives you is confidence. They are your greatest champions. They know your strengths -- and weaknesses -- and they still believe in you.

There are times in your career when you might feel like you're not ready for the next job or jump up the career ladder. Or, you run into a boss or situation that turns out not to be the right fit. It's easy to have self-doubt in those situations. You wonder if you are out of your depth. When I was in one of those doldrums, I remember a mentor of mine calling me, giving me a pep talk and she said, 'Whatever you do, don't lose your confidence..." It was like she knew what I needed to hear.

It's at those times that the mentors who know you best can be your rock. They have counseled you over the years and seen you grow and perform. They have spoken candidly with you about where you needed to develop, and they have seen you change. They know your potential, your heart and your talent.  They have all the confidence in the world in you, even when you are doubting yourself.

I've been fortunate to have terrific mentors throughout my career who have helped me on my path. I hope I have thanked them and they know what they have meant to me. And as I get along in my career, I try to share with some other young "corporate kids" the counsel, candor and confidence they have so generously given me.

Coaching -- The greatest "hassle" you'll ever enjoy

"I just don't have the time." ... "There are plenty of parents who are more qualified than me." ... "Who needs all that extra hassle with practices, games and drama."

I said all of that when it came time to consider coaching my daughter's basketball team three years ago. Life and work were hectic.  I loved playing basketball, but had never really coached a team. And, there are always potential headaches and tension around bad calls, playing time, etc.

The truth is ... coaching Emma and her friends was the greatest "hassle" I ever enjoyed. As their 8th grade season ends this week, I reflected back on coaching the last three years and couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic.

A Great Experience

First, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to coach when the spot opened up three years ago. Not every parent has that chance. I was also incredibly lucky to work with a head coach and fellow father who was dedicated, experienced and good-hearted. We made it work.

It was very satisfying and rewarding to teach a game that I had been playing for 40 years.  It brought back so many memories and lessons about basketball and teamwork that I learned on the courts and gyms of my youth.

The girls were enthusiastic, respectful and upbeat. They gave the loudest cheers in the gym, "1-2-3-Assumption."  Always quick with a "thank you, Mr. Price" or a shocked look when they may have fouled the other team.

We never won more than a handful of games in a season, but our girls developed skills, had fun and learned how to play the game. To be honest, the other schools and teams were simply better. Over the years, we learned to savor the small victories -- a terrific pass, a made shot, a defensive stand and fighting to the end. I look back and see the progress each girl made, growing as players, as teammates and as young women, and I am so proud of them all.

Five Reasons to Coach Your Kids

For those parents who may be struggling with the decision to coach their kids, I would offer these benefits that you should never sell short:.

1. Show them "Coach," not "Dad" -- My daughter Emma got to see me in a very different light as Coach, not Dad -- even if just for a few hours a week. At home, I am the one hounding her about cleaning her room,... taking away her phone when she hasn't done her homework,... working on my computer at all odd hours of the night or weekend. At the gym, I was fun. Making jokes, running drills and smiling. Emma and I would tease each other, share laughs and have a special place where we could relate to each other in a whole different way.

2. Share Your Passion -- I love basketball! I have been playing since I was a little kid, and I still play today in regular pick-up games with friends. My kids knew how much I loved the game, but until they started playing it was hard for them to understand why. Emma and Tess both play now. They know why people get excited about a great play or the swish of a jumper. They appreciate all the hours of practice that go into improving your skills. When I drove Tess to her game a few weeks ago, she was telling me all about the defensive scheme they were being taught by her coach. I could hear her starting to grasp the game and have a passion for how the parts can come together when a team is working well.

3. Keep Fit and Have Fun --  As a coach, I loved practice. I didn't want to be passively barking orders from the sidelines or giving long lectures.  I was running around the court. Dribbling. Shooting. Showing them defensive stances. It was a workout and kept me energized. I had to stay in better shape, so I didn't embarrass myself racing up court -- or collapse during our defensive drill to Cotton-Eyed Joe. I also had so much fun seeing the pleased and proud look on their faces when they would make a steal, hit a shot and win a game.  They always made me chuckle and smile in their own goofy, girly ways.

4. Meet their Friends -- It's always been hard for parents to get a glimpse into their kids lives and know their friends. When I was a kid in Jersey City, your friends were all in the neighborhood and you called the house or rang the doorbell to ask if "Jimmy could come out to play." Nowadays, the only people who call my home phone are my parents and telemarketers. It's harder to know who your kids are spending time with and what is going on in their lives. Spending a few hours with Emma and her friends every week gave me a glimpse into their world, a better perspective on what mattered to them, and a greater appreciation for their problems and concerns. I would always ask them what they thought was working in practice ... what did they like ... what did we need to work on. I think they were surprised that I asked what they thought and also that I listened.

5. Precious Time -- The greatest regret most parents have is, "I wish I could spend more time with my kids." Well, if you're lucky enough to coach their teams, you get that time commitment. You have the drive time to games, weekly practices, pizza party celebrations, etc. You also have a common interest and topic that you can talk about -- something that isn't schoolwork or why they torture their sister.

Hassles Can Be Treasures Once Unwrapped

Emma will be moving onto high school next year and probably won't be playing basketball.  Tess has a great, committed set of dads coaching her 6th grade team already.  And, Will is still young and a wild card, not sure if sports are for him. My coaching run may be over... but the memories and bonds over basketball will never end -- not for me and I hope not for them either. Emma and her friends taught me a lot about coaching, parenting and "hassles" that are truly treasures once unwrapped.

New Year's Resolutions -- More or Less

New Year's Eve and thoughts turn to new beginnings, resolutions and how to improve your life.

There are all the things you want to do more of: more exercise, more reading, more learning, or more time with loved ones. There are also the things that we want to do less of: less junk food, less cursing, or less time working.
 

The more or less of New Year's resolutions are all well-intentioned, but the truth is we all just want to find happiness. That's the best resolution we can make.

I recently listened to a TED talk by Robert Waldinger and he reported on the results of a long-term Harvard Study on Adult Development, which has run for 75 years. What was their big finding about what makes a good life? How do people find happiness? It's all about having good relationships. "Good relationships keep us happier and healthier," says Waldinger. Not money. Not power. Not privilege.

So, here are a few of my resolutions for building better relationships in 2016:

• Assume people's best intentions. It's hard in today's day and age not to be cynical or suspicious. It's easy to believe someone else is out to get us or acting selfishly. But, it is certainly easier to build relationships when you believe people are generous, caring and acting with the best of intentions.

• Take-five. Many things that I say could be more thoughtfully presented or better received if I would only take a moment to calm down and think. A quick ten-count (okay, maybe 5) before I let fly with a sarcastic, biting quip or a screaming tirade. A few more thoughtful pauses and reflections can go a long way to building relationships - or not damaging the ones you already have.
• Two ears, one mouth. The old saying is "You have two ears and one mouth, you should use them in that proportion." Relationships are about listening to others.  Genuinely listening. Actively listening. 'Nuff said.
• Kids in the kitchen. Know what a real problem and issue is.  Think of it like cooking with kids in the kitchen.  If they aren't burning down the house or playing with knives, then an inedible snack or a little mess (or even a major clean-up) is not the end of the world. Don't cause friction in your relationships unnecessarily.
• Give till it hurts. A good relationship is one where you get even more satisfaction from what you can give, than from what you receive. Taking a burden from a friend in need. Listening to someone else's worries. Giving up time you may not have to spend it with your child. A little bit of sacrifice and selflessness is the foundation of any strong relationship.

So as we turn to a new year and think about resolutions, do a little "more," do a little "less," but focus on your relationships. Science says you'll be happy that you did.  

R.I.P. Telephone Conversation

When was the last time you had a real conversation on the telephone?

I don't mean the last time you picked up that randomly dialed marketing call and felt like taking a 10-minute survey to see if you could really win a trip to the Bahamas.

I don't mean the last time you took a polite call from a fundraiser, and you didn't want to be rude, so you listened... and listened ... and listened ... until you agreed to some kind of pledge.

I don't mean the weekly call to your parents to hear the latest on their health issues, their house problems and the latest obituaries in The Jersey Journal.

And, I don't mean the five-minute call to your sister to commiserate about the weekly call to your parents about their health issues, their house problems, etc.  That doesn't count.

I mean a real bona fide conversation on the phone. A "Gee...I've been thinking about Joe/Janet...I wonder how they are doing...I should give them a call" conversation. The kind where you might actually sit down in a comfortable chair and your sole activity is making that call and having a -- conversation.  Who does that any more?

The telephone is dead and technology has ruined the art of conversation.

Talking at Each Other, Not With Each Other

Much has been studied about the impact technology is having on conversations and how we interact with each other. Sherry Turkle, a professor in Science, Technology and Society at M.I.T. and the author of 'Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age," has studied this phenomenon for 15 years. Her conclusion is not that we aren't talking any more.  We are "talking" all the time in texts, emails, etc., but we are talking at each other, not with each other. Fascinating research that you can read more about here, here and here.

Where I notice it most is in the death of the telephone conversation. My thirteen year-old daughter Emma has a cell phone, or should I say a smart phone. She texts.  Watches videos. Snaps photos for Instagram. I am certain that I am the only one who knows her phone number and has ever actually called her (even her mother only texts her).

When I take Emma's phone away for a few days, she is incapable of communicating with her friends. "Dad, can I have my phone back? I need to find out something for homework." When I suggest that she actually use our house phone to "call" her friend about the night's homework you would think I had suggested she suggest she send a letter via Pony Express. "I can't do that!"

A Nervous Rite of Passage 

I used to call my friends' houses all the time. It was an adventure and an art form.  I can still see the AT&T TrimLine phone hanging on the kitchen wall. You had to stretch and unwind the phone cord into the room next to the kitchen and close the door for privacy. Two minutes later you were yelling at your parents for picking up on another line. The phone was the communications hub of a house.

You never knew who would actually answer the phone when you called a friend's house.  You actually had to introduce yourself to someone, show some manners, maybe even have some brief chit chat with an adult. My friend Karen came from a big family, and in high school we talked on the phone all the time (Well, I called her all the time, but that's another story). As a result of those calls, I got to know her parents and her whole family after four years of high school and they got to know me.

My kids will never know the teenage torture of "calling a girl."  A nervous rite of passage when I grew up. There was the time you spent thinking about what you would say ... why were you calling? Was there some point to the call ... homework, gossip, weekend plans? There was the preparation for whomever might answer the call.  Her father... mother... brother.  It could take a whole night just to work up the courage to call a girl -- only to get her father on the other end who might tell you sternly that she was sleeping, in the shower or out with her friends.  Ugh!

And, do you remember how long people would talk on the phone. In the days before "call waiting," teens actually had to fight over phone time with their siblings and their parents, or be told, "You've been on the phone for an hour, Mary Jane.  Hang up and do your homework."

Reach Out and Touch Someone

The truth is my kids don't really know how to "use" a telephone or what it is really for.  They exchange information -- or moronic jokes - in short bursts of texting, not conversations. They use mini-computers called smart phones -- they're not really phones. The telephone has become a relic for direct marketing calls, political campaigns and confirming dentist appointments.

I may be in the minority, but I still get excited when the phone rings, actually rings.  Do you remember those AT&T Reach Out and Touch Someone commercials?

I always enjoy the mystery of who might be on the other end (damn Caller ID ruined that). And, on less hectic days, I enjoy the time to sit down, talk and catch up with friends. That happens a lot less often nowadays.

This week, maybe I'll "go retro," pick up the phone, and call an old friend just to talk. Wouldn't that be nice?

Now, where is Karen's phone number? I am sure I must have it somewhere in my smart phone.  :)

Farewell, sweet Sadie

We said good bye to our sweet girl, Sadie, today. She was a precious dog who could have inspired Marley & Me with her antics (watch here)... who was a walking medical miracle ... and who endearingly captured our family's heart for nearly 13 years.

Sadie at rest

We rescued Sadie in February 2003 with the help of Aunt Mary's Dog House, and I can still see her romping in the living room of our old house the first day we met this energetic pup, and knocking down baby Emma. She was a beautiful husky mix with a soft white coat, black and brown markings on her face, one blue eye and one brown.  There were no two Sadies -- on so many levels, she was unique.  Let me explain.

What the heck is separation anxiety?

As with most rescue dogs, you often wonder, "How did this sweet dog wind up on the street? Who would have let her go?"

It didn't take long for my wife and I to realize what might have happened with Sadie.  While sweet and lovable, she had severe -- really severe -- separation anxiety and destructive behavioral issues.  Leave her alone, and watch out.

We left her in a pet crate for about 20 minutes one time and re-entered the house to find she had made a Houdini-like escape from the locked crate after drenching the floor with saliva and chewing on a nearby end table. Once out, she tore about three feet of linoleum off the basement floor and shredded the carpet on  the stairs trying to find us. She was inconsolable when left alone and went into a frenzy trying to find her family.

She would also go berserk if she was left alone outside in the yard, or whenever people walking dogs passed by our house.  She devoured every window sill facing the street and chewed the spindles on the deck gate that was trying to keep her in the yard.

After a few weeks of discovering Sadie's condition, we found a behavioral specialist in Pennsylvania, whom we thought could help. We were desperate and I remember feeling so relieved when the doctor told us how severe Sadie's anxiety was. It was just therapeutic to speak with someone who understood what we were dealing with and could explain it. The doctor put her on a mix of medications that would help moderate -- though never totally solve -- her behavioral issues.

Sadie in her devilish prime

Oh, the stories that Sadie has provided over the years (see my earlier post on a runaway stroller escapade):

• One spring, we arrived at my in-law's house in Ohio just as their contractor was putting the finishing touches on a brand new deck. They were so pleased. Within two hours of us getting there, however, someone "left" Sadie outside when some other guests arrived and in a matter of 15 minutes she had devoured ten of the wooden spindles on the brand new deck.  When we continued to visit Ohio over the years, I just brought a checkbook to cover Sadie damage.
  
• The drive to Ohio was also filled with Sadie antics. It wasn't long before we realized we couldn't stop at the usual highway rest stops with all the grass and amenities for dogs. Sadie would go crazy trying to get to meet the other dogs. Not in a sweet, "oh, isn't she cute" way.  More in a "mad dog, Tazmanian devil, frothing at the mouth" way. She did a backflip once trying to slip out of her leash. She also crawled under our minivan once to find a friend, who went yelping back to his owner. She just wanted friends.
  
• When we moved to a new house, we apparently put a bed too close to one of the front windows on the second floor. Sadie had been on "watch," perching on the bed and looking out the window when she saw a neighbor walking her dog. She started barking like crazy, knocked the screen out of the window, and was about half way out the window when our neighbor rang the doorbell to tell my wife her crazy dog was about to jump out the window.
  



"Hello, neighbor."

• On too many occasions to count, Sadie would escape from the house and wander through our suburban neighborhood. She became quite well-known amongst our Butterworth neighbors.  She would gleefully make the rounds visiting neighbor's yards and dogs.  I could rarely catch her because she usually bolted through the woods and into the yards.  I would roam the streets with a piece of cheese and a leash, getting clues from helpful neighborhood kids, or listen for barking dogs that she had surprised with a visit.  She eventually took pity on me and either came home or found me and "let" me catch her. One time during a winter snowstorm, she collapsed in the middle of the road because the rock salt was all in her paws and she could barely walk.  I got to carry my 50 pound pup home in three feet of snow.  She was happy to see me that time.

The gentle protector

Sadie was also quite a gentle protector. She must have been abused in her past because she would bark at any large man who came into the house and watch out for our kids. Sadie knew my father her whole life, but whenever he came in she would incessantly bark at him until he sat down somewhere. Then, she would watch him quietly or until she would walk up to him for some rubbing behind her ears (she loved those rubs).

Ever watchful

In all her years, as crazy as she was, she never bit anyone. And to be honest, after 10 or 15 minutes of her continuous barking at a visitor, you kind of wished she would've just bitten them just to shut her mouth and stop the barking (just kidding).

The nine lives of Sadie

Sadie also was a bit of a medical miracle dog. Besides her severe anxiety issues, she dealt with slipped disks in her neck and back; a heart murmur that disappeared after a year; a strep infection which made her brain swell; ulcerated corneas; pancreatitis, liver problems; inexplicable tremors and shakes (which also came and went for no reason); a banana-yellow, wrapped up tail that she had chewed on; glaucoma, which led to terrible pain, daily medications and blindness in one of her eyes. We should have a wing named after her at the veterinary hospital.

We thought we were going to lose her several times in the past, but she always rebounded. This week,her spirit was still willing, but weakened, and her resilient body finally failed her.

Rest peacefully, my sweet Sadie 

Over the years Sadie's destructive side faded with age and she mellowed quite a bit.  She became more of a sweet old lady. She loved walks and would start each one with youthful energy and enthusiasm, but the walks became a lot shorter the last few years as she aged.

Gus and Sadie

She would still play around with her more youthful mates -- the friends she had been chasing and looking for all those years in the rest stops. Gus, my brother in-law's weimeraner, towered  over Sadie and could've broken her in half with one twist, but they became best pals. This year, even Gus saw how frail she was getting and he somehow intuitively knew how far to push her.  I'll remember their playful wrestling matches
forever.

It's sad to think she won't be here next week when I come home from work.  Even on her most weary days, she would get up and greet me with a tail wag and a happy look (many days she was the only one who was happy to see me). I could always count on Sadie.

I hope she's resting now -- or running after some other dogs up in heaven.  The truth is that tonight, it will be me who feels the sadness and anxiety of my separation from her. Rest peacefully, sweet Sadie.  We will miss you and always love you.

Apple Trees Make Apples

You may be familiar with the the saying "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," which means children are very similar to their parents. My friend Mark likes to twist that adage and say, "Apple trees make apples." He usually says it to me when I am complaining about one of my kids' less-than-flattering displays of stubbornness (Will), impatience (Tess) or inability to hear someone when they don't care what they are saying (Emma).  Imagine that?

I find myself thinking about "apple trees" more and more as I see Will growing up.

Will is a rule follower just like his dad.  Tell us the rules.  Paint us the box. And we will live with them, no matter how stupid or unfair they might be.  We usually try and negotiate a fair set of rules in advance -- or in Will's case he might evolve the rules to his advantage in the games he makes up. But, if there are rules we can usually live with them.

Chess Rules

Recently, Will has been learning to play chess with me.  Lots of rules to learn there.

He has been very quick to pick up the game.  He clearly thinks a few moves ahead, sees the whole board and is beginning to grasp the implications of each move he makes (today, he was even coaching sister Tess).

The first few times he played he was still getting familiar with how each piece could move differently.  However, one rule he learned right away was that once you let go of your piece, you couldn't move it again -- even if you then realized it was going to be taken.

So one game, he moved his knight three spaces and over one, instead of two spaces and over and he took my queen.  He then quickly let go of the knight.

I told him, "Will, you can't do that.  The knight only moves two spaces and then over one. It should be here."  He knew he was caught, but he also knew the rules and quickly retorted -- "But, Dad, your rule is once you let go of the piece... you can't move it again! So, he can't go back to the other space."  Gotcha, Dad! A rule is a rule.

We discussed the merits of which rule really counted in this case, and Will decided he would no longer play that day if I wasn't going to play by the rules.  

A Rule Is A Rule

At this point in my blog post, my mother is chuckling to herself and thinking you got what you deserve. She is also beginning to recall stories of her own son, who liked rules and had his own strong sense of fairness.

When I was in 8th grade, my teacher was getting very frustrated with our class at the end of one very long day. Spring fever had set in, graduation was on the near horizon, and students weren't as studious or prepared as our teacher would've liked.

She announced that she was going to ask one more set of questions from the chapter, and she expected someone to answer them -- besides Billy Price who had been answering all the previous questions -- or we would all be staying after school.  Well, when no one else could answer her questions (except me whom she wouldn't call on), the last bell rang, and she kept everyone after school -- including me.

Well, that wasn't fair.  She was changing the rules -- and I told her I shouldn't have to stay after school.  The teacher didn't appreciate the merits of my argument this day and sent me to the principal's office. Now, I didn't go to the principal's office very often in my eight years at Our Lady of Mercy, but on this day I knew I was right and I was ready to make my case. Certainly, the principal Sr. Rose Mary would be on my side.  She knew the rules.  She knew what was fair. I knew the answer to every question our teacher had asked, but she wouldn't let me answer them.  Why did I have to stay after school?

My train of logic derailed with Sr. Rose Mary, too, and so I went back to class to serve time with my classmates.  Another loss for the rule follower.

Will the Negotiator

Will has become quite the negotiator of what is fair and isn't fair in his own right.  For the last year, going to Sunday mass has become an unbearable torture for Will, usually ending in tears, crying and slamming doors.  No manner of persuasion or argument can convince him this is a good use of this time.

Most Sundays in the battle of wills (or Wills, in this case), I would win the battle, but lose the war.  He would go to mass crying, tear-stained and seething, and I would also go to mass ticked off -- and not in the most Christian mindset, other than praying to God for more patience.

When his grandmother came to stay with us for a few weeks, she would go to the early mass, and for a couple of Sundays, I took the path of least resistance after arguing with him, and just left him home with Grandma when the rest of us went to mass.  This was not a long-term solution, but it certainly made for more peaceful Sundays.

There is nothing -- other than his mother -- that Will loves more than his electronics -- Nintendo DS, iPad, XBox, etc.  So, one Sunday, I told him, "Look here is the deal, if you don't go to mass like a good boy and without any screaming, then you will not be able to have any electronics for the entire day.  It's one hour at Church or a whole day without any electronics.  That's the rule."  He agreed begrudgingly.

The next weekend I told him the same rule that we had established.  He turned to me and said, "Well, Dad, you don't leave for Church until about 9:30, so I can keep playing my games until then, since I COULD go with you until you leave.  But, I am going to stay home with Grandma, and once you come back from Church I will give up my electronics the rest of the day. I am not going to church."  Gotcha, Dad! A rule is a rule.

And so, the truth is apple trees make apples -- even rotten ones some days.  :)

13 Truths About Fatherhood

It is Father's Day weekend.  A time to visit Macy's for that Oxford shirt and paisley tie combination your father has always wanted.  Or, time to hit Home Depot for the latest set of power tools that your father can drive through his thumb, foot and other appendages.  Or, time to find the last existing bottle of Obsession cologne to replace the one that your father has been wearing since high school. Oh, Father's Day.

Father's Day is also a great time to reflect on those common traits that make us fathers. In today's post, I would like to share 13 truths of fatherhood:

1) Fathers will never be mothers. They will never be the their kids' favorite or the first one they thank in their Tony Award acceptance speech. On the other hand, they will also never be the one who the kids yell at when they can't find their favorite pair of jeans, when they are "starving," or when the wifi is out.

2) It will always be a father's job to clean up the dog shit.  Or, kill the stink bugs... knock the bee's nest out of the garage ... or take the dead mice out of the mouse traps.

3) Dad's music will always suck.  From generation to generation, fathers will always have the crappiest music collection ... whether it is listening to Tony Bennett, Barry Manilow or Bon Jovi ... a Dad's music is never as cool as his kids'.

4) Fathers will never ask for directions or instructions .  They will follow their GPS mindlessly in circles or continue to say, "Oh, don't worry. I know where I am now."  And the IKEA furniture or thousand piece Lego set will always have "extra" pieces to toss away.

5) Every father is the "worst dad ever." At some point, every dad will be a "tyrant" and "hated" by his kids for being "soooo unfair."

6) Every father runs a hotel for kids. "Guests" enjoy concierge service, continental breakfasts, free wifi.  They don't need to turn out lights, pick up clothes, hang up towels, put away their toys, make their beds...  Check-out time is arbitrary -- usually noon on the weekends for teenagers. And new guests are always welcome to fill vacancies for sleepovers.

7) Fathers will always take the kids for ice cream.  They will generously buy little Jimmy his one scoop of vanilla ice cream on a cone, while they devour a 1200 calorie banana split with extra walnuts and chocolate syrup.  "It's for the kids, honey."

Megan Hock Photography -- Pinterest

8) Fathers will always hate their daughters' boyfriends and cry on their daughters' wedding days.  Always.

9) Every dad is a cab driver. A text or a phone call and a father is out the door faster than an Uber driver in Manhattan. Those Saturday morning drives to practices or late drives home from theater rehearsal. That one-on-one time is precious and priceless.

10) Fathers will always snore.  It's a chronic condition, especially after Thanksgiving dinner, or in an easy chair while they are "watching" the latest CSI episode.

11) Fathers will never be as tough as mothers. Mothers carried those kids in their wombs for nine months, doing unthinkable things to their bodies, and went through hell to bring them into the world.  Fathers whine when they get a twisted ankle playing basketball or smash their thumb with a hammer.

12) Fathers will never get sunscreen right.  Whether it is for themselves or their kids, someone will invariably wind up with one thigh that is lobster red, or have the map of the Ukraine imprinted on their back.

13) Every father's cold heart has a melting point.  A tight hug, a cute smile and a sincere, "I love you, Dad" can melt any Dad's heart.

Melt your Dad's heart this weekend.  Say thanks and I love you.