I was intimately struck by a piece of news last week that, although covered by everyone from the New York Times and Washington Post (who first reported the news) is getting far less buzz than the revolution in Egypt, the political hubub in Madison, Wisconsin and who’s going to be the big winner at this year’s Oscar’s.

It’s a story fraught with huge philosophical and moral consequences.

It’s a proposed change to the way the kidney transplant system works in the United States and, in short, it would start to (for the first time) factor age into the rules that determine which patients on the nation’s kidney transplant list are provided the most sought-after transplant organ.

Says the Times: “patients and kidneys would each be graded, and the healthiest and youngest 20 percent of patients and kidneys would be segregated into a separate pool so that the best kidneys would be given to patients with the longest life expectancies. The remaining 80 percent of patients would be put into a pool from which the network that arranges for organ matches, called the United Network for Organ Sharing, would try to ensure that the age difference between kidney donors and recipients is no more than 15 years.”

Why do I care about this proposal?  If it had been implemented in the mid-90s, there’s a good chance my father would have died long before he did.

My dad, at a fairly young age, was struck with a kidney disease (the name of which escapes me sadly) that set him on path towards an eventual kidney transplant.  For years he knew that his kidney function would slowly deteriorate to the point that he eventually began dialysis three times a week.  If you’ve never known someone someone on dialysis, it robs you of your energy, your zest for daily life.  And it’s never ending.  You will be on dialysis until you receive a kidney transplant or until you die.

So on that night in the fall of 1995 when the phone rang at 3 a.m. to tell my father that due to a tragic motorcycle accident in Iowa, it was time to make the drive from Chicago to Milwaukee where a perfectly matched kidney would be awaiting him.  He was, at the time, in his early sixties and frankly, scared out of his mind.  We didn’t leave the house for nearly an hour while he and my mom talked through his fears. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said, visibly scared to me for the first time in my life.

We made the trip, the transplant was a success and he lived long enough to, among other things, see me marry my wife.  Had he not been diagnosed with lung cancer five years later, who’s to say that he wouldn’t still be here with us?  But it raises a serious question in light of the new proposed rules: was this the right moral and ethical decision?  Based on time on a transplant list and quality of the match, was my dad the right person to get this kidney?  If there had been someone with the same disease he had contracted, the same quality of match, yet 30 years younger, does that individual deserve the kidney more than my father?

From my perspective, I’m clearly biased from my personal life experience.  Do we know that the 30-year-old will be able to bring better societal contributions purely based on his age and projected lifespan?  Do we know that because the 30-year-old drives to and from work each day that he will be more likely to be in a car accident than the man in his 60s who doesn’t drive as much?  Can we quantify the joy brought to any family by whatever time you spend with an individual during the 525,600 minutes they spend on Earth each year?

Whatever you say, one thing’s clear: if more people became organ donors, there’d be less of an issue because more people die each year with kidneys that could save and prolong lives than need them.  So sign the back of your driver’s license and make that gift to someone when you’re gone.  You can’t take it with you and I can say hand’s down, having my father at my wedding remains one of my fondest memories of my time with him.

As Father’s Day 2010 approaches and my daughter nears her 7th birthday, I’ve been thinking about the story of Abby Sunderland, the 16-year-old California teenager who recently tried to become the youngest person to sail solo around the world. She didn’t make it (a storm broke her mast and she had to be rescued in the Indian Ocean). Today, much of what I’d been thinking about around her was well summed perfectly up in an editorial in the Chicago Tribune, which asks, in essence, how old is old enough to do so many things as a child.

Abby Sunderland (source: The Chicago Tribune)

I watched with excitement over the last few months as my daughter has reached several milestones of independence. She can swim without an adult right next to her in the water. She learned how to ride a bicycle on two wheels. Of course, as is mandatory these days, she’s not allowed to ride that bike without a helmet. And even though she and one of her good pals five houses down can now both ride without training wheels, the “rule” is that she cannot ride out of side of either our house or her friend’s house. Cross the street? Absolutely not. Ride around the block? Even though she’d always be on the sidewalk never have to cross the street – still a no-no. And yet as I think back to when I learned how to ride a bike, ironically in the same town where we live now, I never had a helmet and as soon as I could go on two wheels…I was gone. I had to stay within a small radius of our house…but I could go around the block (without the benefit of a sidewalk) or to a small field down at the end of our street.

I don’t feel that my wife and I are overprotective, but I do feel that we exert a much tighter “bubble” around our daughter than our parents did around us. It seems we’re more frequently looking for a detailed “checklist” of qualifications and a level of readiness to “pass” certain tests that will make us feel comfortable to loosen our parental grip ever so slightly.

So as you head towards Father’s Day, please give this some thought: how old is old enough to do all the things your children want to do? Whether it’s go to the mall and a movie alone, ride a bicycle out of your sight, walk alone to school…or sail around the world. After all, as the Chicago Tribune aptly points out, if you were the parent of one of Abby Sunderland’s teenage friends, as you negotiate a curfew, you could find yourself in the uncomfortable and unenviable position of a child who says, “But why not?!? Abby’s parents let her sail around the world alone!”

Here’s an excerpt from Katrina Kenison’s wonderful book “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” that totally captures the beauty and power of being a parent, for both moms and dads. I loved what she shared here because it’s something that I realized a long time ago. It isn’t really all the big important events in our children’s lives that we will miss the most when they grow up but all those little moments that most of us take for granted. I try my best to take pictures and videos of the routine day to day things that we don’t usually notice because I know I will miss them so much some day. I call them little slices of life.

My kids are 11, 7 and 4 now. I still have time to savor many more of these magical extra-ordinary days but I also know that they will fly by in a heartbeat. I remember when my big Nicholas (11) was born and I could hold him in one hand…but now he’s almost as tall as I am! I also remember when Rachel (4) was this little pixie baby but now she’s this little lady so full of questions and strong opinions already (I know where she gets that from!). Then there’s Matty (7) , whom we called Peanut because he was so tiny but now he’s a dynamic little man full of life and wonder. I love each stage for all its worth but I also miss the ones we leave behind forever. I even miss the things we get rid of such as the cribs, the high chairs and changing tables. All part of the process of letting go… but I am still hanging on for dear life as long as I can.

Please watch Katrina as she shares this portion of her book. It truly says it all. I want to thank my wife Lori for finding this treasure and sharing it with me…along with those 3 little angels we spend our ordinary days with. For more of Katrina’s insightful musings subscribe to her blog: http://www.katrinakenison.com/ordinary-day-journal/

Zachary loves National Geographic for Kids magazine

My eight-year-old son Zachary *could not* (according to him) remember all the punctuation rules he needed for an upcoming test.

I said, “Can you remember PCC BED?” I will give you a dime if you say “PCC BED” one hundred times.

He did.

I said, “When the test comes around, ask for a piece of scrap paper and write down ‘PCC BED.’”

P stands for punctuation always goes inside the quotation marks.

C is for capitalizing the first word in someone’s quote.

C is for “comma separates Zachary.” That is, when someone is addressing you, they have to stop and put a comma before and after your name unless it’s the beginning or end of a sentence.

B is book titles are capitalized and underlined.

E is for “entire names.” That is, the words Mr. Zachary Hage all start with capital letters.

D is for double sentences are tricks. (Think second-grade level questions; it made sense for him.)

It worked. He understood and passed with flying colors.

Got any homework and test-taking tricks to share?

Good luck from a fellow dad,
::Joe Hage::

… can go a long way.

This took me an extra 45 seconds and I know what Zachary’s reaction will be.

 

 

What Zach will see in his lunchbox tomorrow

What one little extra can you do for your child today?

Good luck from a fellow dad,
:: Joe Hage ::

Photo credit i eated a cookie (candy drawer) via Flickr

I find myself in the beginning of November with a slight problem.  I have a ton of candy and I am on a diet.  I asked around the office and I am not the only one.  Some of you might have tried to eat all of it and can’t bring yourself to do it.  Maybe your kids have separated out all the “good stuff.” Perhaps, not enough trick or treaters showed up.  Here are a couple ways to get rid of the candy.

You could cook or bake with it.  Check out this 5 Yummy Recipes. Take it work.  I took a bunch of candy (mainly chocolate) and brought it to meetings.  People love free candy.  I was discussing what to do with Halloween Candy when people started telling me about Operation Gratitude.

You can provide Halloween Candy for the Operation Gratitude Care Packages. The troops will love it–for themselves and also to give out to the children in the communities they patrol.  All types of candy are acceptable, including chocolate this time of year.

You can also find dentists within your community who may be participating in a Halloween Candy Buy-Back program, or to encourage your own dentist to participate.

Check with your child’s school, they might be collecting.  My kid’s school is.  If you are going to send the candy yourself, be sure and ship your candy  by December 5 to:

Operation Gratitude/California Army National Guard
17330 Victory Boulevard
Van Nuys, CA 91406
Attn: Charlie Othold

Some tips about donating you candy according to Operation Gratitude:

• Feel free to use any size cartons–whatever you have on hand or can easily find.
• Please use the most economical method from your location.  You can check the websites of the various shippers (UPS, USPS, Fed-Ex, DHL) and get their respective prices based on weight and size of package.  Some of these outlets are allowed to offer discounts, as they are owned as franchises.
• You might also check with local moving or freight companies–they might be willing to add your donation to their load for very little money (or for free) if they are heading this way anyway.

Buck blogs almost daily at BuckDaddyBlog.com where he blogs about being a dad, sprinkled with some product reviews and giveaways, with humor and self deprecation.

I shot a 5 and a half minute video of my family vacation at Disneyland in California, or rather, just a bit of the vacation. Here’s the clip:

My thought when I did this was, “video should be fun, simple, and not exactly a complete capture of every moment of the vacation.” We had two solid days in Disneyland (honestly, I’m writing this from my hotel in Disney, so we’re still here), and I didn’t shoot every moment of it on video. I didn’t capture every breath the family took. That’s the difference. It’s nice to have some visual memories of the event, but do you really need every moment that takes place?

No. We think we do, because we want to capture every moment, but that’s not really the whole point, is it? The point is to make memories, not perfectly capture them.

What’s your take?