Recently I was driving a route that I normally take when driving home, although I was going somewhere else. At the intersection that takes me to my home, I instinctively turned left rather than continuing straight ahead to my intended destination. My eldest daughter pointed out my mistake, and I responded, “I was on autopilot.”

In fact, most of the things that I do daily I do on autopilot. When I brush my teeth, wash the dishes, and bring my fork to my mouth, I don’t actively think about those actions. I’m on autopilot. Of course, the reason that I can do those things without thinking about them is because I’ve consciously repeated them. My conscious mind has trained my unconscious mind.

That is a wonderfully good thing. It means that I can have meaningful conversation at dinner because I don’t have to focus on chewing and swallowing. It means that I can talk with friends while hiking because I don’t have to focus all of my attention on how to put one foot in front of the other and maintain balance.

With respect to parenting, our autopilot responses are particularly important. The repeated practices that we cultivate – consciously or unconsciously – shape the way that we respond “on autopilot.” Consider just a few of these practices:

1. Active Listening. The practice of deliberately giving our children eye contact, confirming that we have understood what they are saying, and asking good questions all form habits. When we don’t have the time or “mental space” to think about how to listen, we default (whether we want to or not) to autopilot listening skills that we have practiced.
2. Conflict Resolution. Children have plenty of conflict – with us, and with one another. In many of those instances there are not outside pressures (like being first in line at the grocery store, or being already late for school). In those instances, we can patiently teach wise conflict resolution: identify the interests of all involved, name any wrong done, and brainstorm creative solutions that address any wrong done and satisfy as many interests as possible. Cultivating these skills of conflict resolution help us – and our children – to have good autopilot skills in the heat of the moment.

All of us operate on autopilot in life and in parenting. The pressing question is: What habits, skills and practices do you deliberately cultivate so that you can instinctively respond well to your kids?

Graham Scharf the father of two, co-founder of Tumblon.com and author of The Apprenticeship of Being Human: Why Early Childhood Parenting Matters to Everyone (which is now available for free!). You can follow him on Twitter @tumblondad.

The shocking news of the suicide of pro football legend Junior Seau has opened up the discussion about the long-term impact of playing the violent sport of football. There have been many studies in recent years showing the severe effects of repetitive traumatic brain injuries, especially regarding concussions. These injuries often lead to what is termed CTE (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy) which  is a progressive degenerative disease of the brain found in athletes (and others) with a history of repetitive brain trauma, including symptomatic concussions as well as asymptomatic subconcussive hits to the head. CTE was originally found in boxers but recent studies have discovered traces of this disease in many retired football players. The tricky part of CTE is that is can take effect years after retiring from the sport so the connection to football injury is rather blurred but research is clearing up this rather disturbing reality for too many players. The brain degeneration is associated with memory loss, confusion, impaired judgment, impulse control problems, aggression, depression, and, eventually, progressive dementia.

Now why am I sharing all this on a website for dads and parents? Well, this whole subject matter hits home hard for me and many other parents who have big, strong sons who either play football or desire to do so. Many parents across the country are having serious discussions about the decision to let their child play the violent game or not. This was unheard of only a few short years ago as playing football was as natural as playing baseball but that is no longer the case.  Many parents are making the difficult choice to forbid their children from playing football and opting for less dangerous sports.

As for me, the decision was made by my own son at age 10 after participating in a summer camp session for football at the local high school. My dreams of seeing my boy on the grid iron in high school and college went up in smoke when he realized that he quite simply did not like playing the game at all. I tried to change his mind for the longest time and used every tactic available but nothing worked. He was not going to play football anymore and I was devastated and crushed. Eventually, when I slowly came to my senses I realized that this was his life and that I could not force him to do something he didn’t want to do. I did not want to be the male equivalent of those stage moms who push their little angels into toddler beauty contests. So I learned to let it go.

By the way, here in Georgia, and I’m sure across  the whole south and other parts of the country, they start recruiting kids very young and as early as possible. For example, the local high school started recruiting my son Nicholas when he was only about 6 or 7. They would send their star players to the middle schools and even elementary schools and focused on making impressions on the biggest and strongest looking children with the hopes of planting the seed for playing at their high school versus its competitors. At the time I found the whole practice strange but nothing serious. However, learning about the long term effects of playing football has changed my viewpoint of this common behavior by high school football programs. It also made me feel relieved that my son made the decision to quit the sport as quickly as he did too! I was so glad that he got out before he experienced any type of head trauma or other type of injury. Sadly, injuries are a common part of the game. It’s not if someone gets hurt but when.

Update:
Just today there was news of a class action lawsuit by over one hundred former pro football players against the NFL for not sharing information they had regarding the dangers of repetitive head trauma experienced in the game of football. This brings the total to 1,500 ex-players currently suing the league for withholding this critical data. Look for many more retired players to follow suit (no pun intended). I think all this will lead to radical changes to the sport to make it safer, especially when it comes to head injuries. The NFL has always improved its equipment and rules to protect its most valuable commodities, namely its players, but it seems as if it was still too little, too late for far too many of them. Let’s hope they do everything they can to reduce the risks these modern day gladiators endure for our viewing pleasure.

As for my boy Nicky, he’s 13 now and over six feet tall and 200 pounds already. So the football recruiters were right about him. However, he prefers to play other sports like soccer and baseball and to be honest with you, I am very happy that he’s not playing football after all. The comfort of knowing my sweet boy isn’t getting his head bashed in every time he practices or plays football more than makes up for initial sadness of giving up my dream as a father of watching my son being hailed as a hero on the gridiron. His health and happiness is truly the most important thing to me. Also, he has to choose the dreams he wants to make come true in his life.

photo credit: Ѕolo via photo pin cc

Shaving is one of the best bonding experiences for dads and sons (ok and sometimes daughters much to the chagrin of moms). Whether they use real shaving cream or fake stuff, the kids love pretending to shave like their dad. I don’t know why it is but there’s something fun about this ritual. I highly recommend doing it sometime and find out for yourself.

When it comes to shaving every morning as a grown up I have to admit that it’s not as much fun. It’s a pain in the neck (sometimes literally) having to take a sharp blade to your face every morning. The other frustrating element is the expense and amount of choices there are when it comes to the razors, blades and even the shaving cream. You can try to be cheap and use the disposable razors which isn’t very green and truth be told they are not very good when it comes to getting a close shave (you get what you pay for). You can go the opposite route (which I’ve done for the most part) and go with the top of the line brands where they keep adding more blades and comfort strips and vibrating motions, etc. You wind up paying more and more for replacement blades which is insane when you think about it. The other camp when it comes to shaving is the electric shaver group who love using their rotating blades device to shave. I’ve gone electric a few times with different types such as the wet/dry electric models which lets you use shaving cream but ultimately I never could get a close a shave as I could with a regular razor….so I went back.

The Dollar a month Razor Club
I’m sure many of you have seen this video that went viral not long ago for a new dollar a month razor club. I have to say that I enjoyed it and think it was long overdue. I knew someone had to come up with a better/cheaper solution for cutting our faces.


The DORCO Club
Well, if that dollar a month deal wasn’t good enough for you, someone discovered an even better one. It was revealed that the dollar razor club actually gets its razors from The Dorco Online Store. You can find some excellent deals on decent grade razors with 6-blades! For example, here’s a 10 pack deal for only $10.50!

Double Edge Wet Shavers

Here’s a good piece from Lifehacker about old fashioned double edge wet shavers which includes using shaving brush to lather your face. Here’s a video of how to use the DE razor that your grandfather used to use.

Here’s a video of a young man comparing shaves with the double edge wet razor and the modern type power razor like the Gillette Fusion.

Summary
Would you be willing to give these types of deals a shot? Do you prefer electric razors or regular razors? Would you go old school and use the double edge razor or is the extreme cost worth the time saving that you get with the power razors? Share your thoughts in the comments.

A pistol grip on a AK-74U reduces the recoil and improves accuracy.

By taking advantage of reduced gravity you can buy yourself a few seconds of advantage as you jump over your opponent.

If you wait a few seconds before firing and allow more of them to come into the picture you can take out more zombies at once and save your ammunition.

These are some of the finer points that my 11-year old shared with me about the latest game he is playing on xbox 360. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he explained to me what steps he figured out to take that allowed him to accomplish this or that level of the game.

I have complained on more than one occasion about some of the sad state of affairs regarding some of today’s latest video games. Some of the video games we played as kids were gruesome to be sure, but nothing like the realistic violence that you see in these games today.  And don’t get me started on the language that you hear in these games. I imagine that the language in World War II on the battlefield was quite colorful, it’s just not something that you expect to hear coming from your kid’s room. And I feel my own share of guilt when I find myself wanting to play the games too, but I digress.

The bottom line is that I have come to see some value in the finer points of zombie killing. Here is what I mean…

To be successful in today’s modern video games requires sufficient problem solving skills. And in many of these games you have to work together as a team.  A true team.  I have played some games with my kids where we had to work together in the game to advance.  I was a serious anchor around the necks of my kids as I just wasn’t up to the task. I didn’t get the big picture and my kids were quick to instruct me about which task I needed to be concentrating on while they did their job.

I have my own complaints about the language and over-the-top violence in today’s game, but I am starting to see some value in how my kids are learning some problem-solving and team-building skills.  I am still quick to remind my kids that we don’t use that kind of language around here, but I have a strange sense of pride that my 11-year old knows the magazine capacity of an AK-47.

We were getting ready for church. I was shaving.

“Zachary,” I said, “They are probably going to be talking about 9/11 today at church.”

“So is this a national holiday?”

“No, I wouldn’t say ‘holiday.’ It is a day of reflection.”

Lucas asked, “What does ‘reflection’ mean?”

I answered, “Reflection means ‘thinking about.’ People will be thinking about what they were doing 10 years ago today. I didn’t come home to your mother 10 years ago. I was in New Jersey and I couldn’t get back into Manhattan.”

“Why?” Zach asked.

“Because they shut all the bridges and tunnels.”

“Why?”

“Because they were afraid something else bad was going to happen.”

I continued, “I remember when I finally got home the next day. Momma was pregnant with you and I remember thinking, ‘What kind of world are we bringing Zachary into?’”

“One that I could make better,” he said without a pause.

Wow.

:: Joe Hage is the chief storyteller for Medical Marcom, a medical devices marketing consultancy helping medical companies become more approachable and engaging. ::

At Nathan's

My dad has a little brown spot on his hand. And when I was little he told me it was a ticklish spot. We were in our den and he was on the phone. I decided to tickle the spot.

“It’s not ticklish when I’m on the phone,” he said.

As it turns out, Dad wasn’t very ticklish at all. But he was amusing.

And he did smile a lot. And laugh a lot.

They say that people who smile tend to lead longer lives.

Maybe that explains how Dad stayed with us so long.

Or maybe Sylvia is responsible for keeping him around.

My 16-year-old mother asked my dad, then 24, to her prom. He said no. She was too young.

But in 1949, mom had blossomed into a young woman and dad knew a good thing when he saw it. They were married for more than 60 years.

Remarried for their 50th

And yes, while they bickered, “Joe! Take your pill!” “Sylvia! For God’s sake! Would you?!” He stuck around, in increasing discomfort, for her. He didn’t want her to be alone.

So I invite you all after mass and in the weeks and months to come, crowd around Aunt Seeya. She knows Dad’s fine. It’s still very tough for her.

A while back he was recovering in rehab and leaned over, “Joey, I remember what my Uncle Jimmy told me. He said, Joe, I’ve lived a full life. Don’t feel sorry for me when I go.”

Dad continued, “We have three great kids. You and your sisters, you all got married. You have loving children. You’re good parents. I’d say we did pretty well for ourselves.”

I’d say he did very well. In dying, he shared his love and humor with us until this, his new beginning.

We five, his immediate family, held hands a few weeks back, each telling him we were ready. He could go.

And he held us. And he loved us.

I said, “I have this image of Grandma and Jeddo up there in Heaven looking at their watches saying, ‘What the heck is taking him so long?’”

In death, he was listening to a Bible passage, took one last deep breath, and went to God.

Two years back, I was afraid my children, still very young when we moved to the West Coast, might not remember my father very well.

So I’ll leave you with the words I recorded that day in rehab.

Yes, it was meant for my little ones.

But if you listen closely, you may take away the most important life message, from this most extra-ordinary father, father-in-law, husband, brother, son, godfather, uncle, Jeddo, veteran, businessman, Christian, and friend.

Do you have any advice for them? Life-long advice?

Life advice. Whatever you do, just do the best you can. Never do anything half-assed, you do it all the way, or you don’t do it at all. That’s all I can tell ya. Your mother and father are very smart, and they say you guys are too. So you listen to them and you do all right.

Have a good life. I love you very, very much. Good bye.

Good bye, Jeddo.

Good bye, Honey.

:: Joe Hage is a storyteller for medical device marketing consultancy Medical Marcom ::

See also Saying Goodbye to Dad
See also The Last Day with My Father

I got there at 11:00 or so.

He was sleeping but woke to a “really good” day. I got talk to him as I would someone in perfect health.
With Mom nearby, I talked about my new business (“So proud of you”) and my family (“I love you more than you know”).

Click to enlarge

I showed JPEGs of their high school graduation photos (Dad graduated in 3½ years with commendations and played tennis; Mom was in the “Modern Dance Club“ and “never served detention”).

We reminisced the stories he told so many times before, about the kid brother he lost 47 years earlier, about his parents.

Then he said matter-of-factly, “Sylvia, get me orange juice, I’m dying.” Mom scurried out the room.

“That was really funny, Dad,” I congratulated.

He gave me a crooked smile. “I know,” he winked.

I was, like, this guy is going to make me rewrite his eulogy! That was too funny not to include!

Mom finished the last of the juice and I was sent out on an errand. When I returned, the Bionic Man (skeletal, bedridden) had the TV remote in his hand!

I called my wife. “He did it again. He is sitting up watching TV! He is never going to die!”

He hadn’t eaten in days and I was eating leftover yebrette (grape leaves), my favorite. I asked Mom if I could offer him some.

“Dad, you want a bite of yebrette?”

He shook no.

“It’s really good. I can cut it up.”

He mouthed “half.”

Mom coached me on the proper bite size. I dipped it in lemon and was surprised how far he opened his mouth. Once inside, the food immediately stung his mouth; he clenched his eyes shut in obvious pain.

I fished out the food and shortly thereafter he was asleep for six hours straight. The longer he slept, the more I feared I messed up. Would he would sleep through my “final goodbye”?

My sister Carolyn came over at night and, by that time, Mom was nervous. The “girl” hadn’t come yet, Dad was too far over on the bed and was “about to fall out of the bed,” how can we make sure that doesn’t happen, etc.

It was now 8:40 and I had a flight the next day. I had to leave and I didn’t want the commotion to get in the way of my goodbye.

I shut the door behind me, seeing my mother’s worried eyes saying, “Why are you shutting the door?” or “Why can’t I be in there with you?” I overheard my sister rationalize with her through the thin wall.

I sat on Dad’s bed and rested my forehead to his, my nose to his.

And God opened his eyes.

I don’t remember what I said exactly. And I wasn’t concerned about saying the perfect thing. I knew, this was the very last time I would see my father alive. I knew, when I left this room I would never hold him again in this lifetime.

I said, “I don’t cry as much as the others, but I’m gonna miss you. I’ll have you in my heart and in my mind.” I tapped my cranium. “I’ve got the Hage Brains,” a decades-old family joke.

I reminisced about his 25th anniversary party at Grandma’s house and recalled how he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.

And then …

He lifted up his arms!

To hug me!

I was shocked, amazed, delighted, and grateful.

I fell to his chest, feeling his soft embrace for the last time. I kissed him repeatedly. He kissed me back.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said.

“I have to go. I have a business trip tomorrow and I’m gonna earn all the money.”

He nodded. And as I rose to go to the door, I distinctly remember debating, do I turn around for one last wistful glance or is that too contrived? Then I thought, I don’t care how contrived it is, that’s my dad, and I’m walking away from him for the very last time.

So I turned.

And there he was, his eyes fixed on me, with a knowing look about the enormity of the moment.

He mouthed something, I genuinely don’t recall what, but it was something loving and affirming.

I nodded yes, turned, closed the door, and immediately welled up.

“I have to go,” I said to Mom and Carolyn, and wept.

They held me. Carolyn said it was ok to cry. Mom asked, “Wha’d he say?”

I said, “All you have to know is he lifted his arms to hug me,” breaking down again.

I hugged Mom, knowing I wouldn’t see her again until I got The Call. I was physically and emotionally exhausted.

I had no trouble falling to sleep that night.

:: Joe Hage is a storyteller for medical device marketing consultancy Medical Marcom ::

See also Saying Goodbye to Dad
See also Eulogizing My Father

NBA star, Robert Horry, shared a touching open letter to his daughter Ashlyn who passed away on 6/14/2011 far too young at 17 due to a rare genetic disorder  called 1p36 Deletion Syndrome. The NBA legend is famous for his late game heroics on the court but here he shares an even more incredible display of grace under pressure with a powerful letter to his beautiful daughter on Father’s Day.

We all know how precious this life is and how we should never squander any moments but this letter is an amazing reminder for us all. Whether you’re a parent or not, the message is clear, love and appreciate those special people in your life while we still can. At the end of the day, spending time with loved ones is the most important thing we can do. No matter what accomplishments we can achieve in life, the love we share is what matters most. I know as a fact that Robert Horry would trade his impressive 7 NBA titles in a heartbeat for the chance to have more time with his precious little angel.

Here’s the moving open letter from a father to his daughter. Ashlyn’s Smile

My baptism day

I don’t know if I’ll hit the publish button.

I’m collecting thoughts after the most memorable Father’s Day of my life.

My dad is dying.

At one point today, my mother, sisters, and I crowded around my father’s bed in the assisted living facility. We professed our profound love for the man and each got “this close” to his face (so he could hear us) and said, “It’s ok, Dad. You can go whenever you are ready.”

We told Dad, “We know you stuck around this long (he’s 88) because of Mom. Yes, she is scared, but we are all here for her and she is going to be fine.”

Mom had the courage to say the same. “I’m going to miss you, you’ve been my husband for 60 years, but I’ll be all right. I don’t want you to suffer any more.”

Dad, with Grandma, 1960s

He kissed us, said he was ok, that he loved us, that he knew we loved him. A priest visited and he received the Anointing of the Sick (as he has a half-dozen times before).

We’ve been saying goodbye to Dad for years.

Two years ago, I got a recording of Dad giving my young children “life-long” advice. Last year, after recovering from a THREE HOUR-LONG heart attack he said, “I’m still here?!”

Now that he’s on constant pain medication and he eats almost nothing, surely this is “his time” … defined as days – or weeks – from now.

We’re ready when God is.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving us such a good one. And for the gift of unity, love, and closure.

:: Joe Hage is CEO of medical device marketing consultancy Medical Marcom ::

See also The Last Day with My Father
See also Eulogizing My Father

We just lost our beautiful Papillon Chi Chi. He was a great dog and we will miss him terribly. My 8 year-old Matthew was closest to Chi Chi so he’s taking it the hardest. Seeing my son in such pain breaks my heart as much as the loss of our sweet dog. He’s too young to go through all this. It’s a tough life lesson, I know, but I wish we didn’t have to go through it now. I guess it’s never a good time to experience such a thing. No matter how much you prepare yourself or your children for loss, it’s always a shock to the system.

I am very grateful that our other dog just had puppies 2 weeks ago. We told Matthew he could keep one of them now, of course. We’re hoping it will help the healing process. I know a new puppy won’t replace Chi Chi but it can only help soothe the pain at least a little.