Fantastic Four: A Timeline

November 1961: The Fantastic Four debuted with issue #1 for Marvel Comics. This is the first team of heroes created by the collaboration between Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Due to their popularity among readers and their status of being an actual family in fictional continuity, the Four quickly became known as the first family of Marvel.

Image courtesy Marvel Comics

While superhero teams were not a new concept in the world of comic books, Fantastic Four were unique because they were a family. The first issues introduced Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic) as a man with an elastic body and his girlfriend Sue Storm (Invisible Woman) who could become invisible and project an invisible force field around her. The two would later get married. Also on the team was Johnny Storm (Human Torch), Sue’s brother who could fly and light himself on fire. The last member was Ben Grimm (Thing) who was Reed’s college room mate and possessed a body made or rock. Like all families, this one bickered a lot adding their family drama into the tension of fighting supervillains and anti-heroes like Namor, Dr Doom, Annihilation, and the Silver Surfer.

July 1963: with issue #16, Marvel dropped the The. The Fantastic Four officially became Fantastic Four.

1975: Fantastic Four is released as a radio show starring Bill Murray as Human Torch. It doesn’t last long.

1977: Bill Murray joined the cast of Saturday Night Live, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.

September 1967: Hannah-Barbera produces a cartoon Fantastic Four series. It lasts for a rear. The cartoon is revived in 1978 with a different producer. The revival does not include Human Torch, instead they have a robot servant named H.E.R.B.I.E who is incorporated into the comics.

Image courtesy Hannah-Barbera

1979: another cartoon broadcasts titled Fred and Barney Meet the Thing. Thing is the only F4 character featured in the series and gave us the catch phrase “Thing-rings, do your thing!” We’ll pretend this doesn’t exist.

Image courtesy Hannah-Barbera

1985: Questprobe 3 was released as an 8 bit game on the Atari. It only featured Human Torch and Thing.

Image courtesy of Adventure International

1986: Constantin Film purchases film rights to Fantastic Four. Those rights were set to expire 12/31/92 if a movie isn’t produced.

1992: Constantin Film teams up with Roger Corman (known for creating countless B-movies) to produce the first Fantastic Four movie on a $1 million budget. Constantin Film had to make this movie to prevent film rights from being reverted back to Marvel. It was set to be in theaters Labor Day weekend of 1993 but that never happened because it was so terrible. It was never officially released but can be pirated online.

Image courtesy of New Concorde

October 1997: Fantastic Four was released as a beat ‘em up style video game on the original PlayStation.

Image courtesy Acclaim Entertainment

2004: 20th Century Fox acquired the film rights to Fantastic Four.

July 2005: 20th Century Fox releases Fantastic Four starring Ioan Gruffudd as Mr Fantastic, Jessica Alba as Invisible Woman, Chris Evans as Human Torch, and Michael Chiklis as Thing. It got mixed reviews. I thought it was just OK. Not bad but not good either.

Image courtesy 20th Century Fox

September 2006: debut of the cartoon series Fantastic Four: World's Greatest Heroes.

Image courtesy Taffy Entertainment

October 2006: The Fantastic Four we’re playable characters in the game Ultimate Alliance. A month later it was released on the PlayStation2, then on the Wii another month later. They appeared in the sequel but not playable, and they were playable again as DLC in the third game of the series.

Image courtesy Activision

June 2007: Fox premiers the movie sequel. Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer debuts to more mixed reviews. While I don’t think it was a great movie, I enjoyed it more than its predecessor. There were plans for a third movie that never materialized.

Image courtesy 20th Century Fox

September 2009: Debut of the cartoon Super Hero Squad. This show features a wide variety of marvel characters and frequently includes members of Fantastic Four. My older three kids were obsessed with this show when it came out.

Image courtesy Marvel Animation

2011: Chris Evans is cast as Captain America in the MCU, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.

August 20015: Fox released the Josh Trank Fant4stic starring stars Miles Teller as Mr Fantastic, Kate Mara as Invisible Woman, Michael B. Jordan as Human Torch, Jamie Bell as Thing. This movie was created for the same reason as the unreleased Fantastic Four movie - to prevent the film rights from expiring and reverting back to Marvel. And just like the 90s F4 movie, it sucked. It was trashed by critics, ignored by fans, and won two golden raspberry awards (worst director and worst picture).

Image courtesy 20th Century Fox

2018: Michael B. Jordan was cast as Killmanger in Black Panther, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.

March 2019: Disney bought 21st Century Fox, returning Fantastic Film rights to Marvel Studios.

July 2019: Kevin Feige appeared at San Diego Comic-Con to announce the slate of upcoming MCU projects in production, which included Fantastic Four.

Image courtesy Marvel Studios

May 2022: Mr Fantastic has a brief appearance in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness as a member of The Illuminati. He’s portrayed by fan casting favorite John Krasinski.

Image courtesy Marvel Studios

September 2022: At the D23 Expo, Kevin Feige announced a director (Matt Shakman) and a release date (11/8/24). The release has since been pushed back to 7/25/25.

November 2023: It is heavily rumored then confirmed Pedro Pascal was cast to play Mr Fantastic in the MCU. This is a disappointment to many (including me) who wanted to see John Krasinski continue this character. Since Pascal perfected his geek chops as a loner escorting a special child to safety in The Mandalorian and as a loner escorting a special child to safety in The Last Of Us, jokes started circulating social media asking which special child he would escort to safety in Fantastic Four.

February 2024: For Valentine’s Day, Marvel Studios released a teaser image for Fantastic Four confirming the cast. Pedro Pascal as Mr Fantastic, Vanessa Kirby as Invisible Woman, Joseph Quinn as Human Torch, and Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Thing. Easter eggs in the announcement confirm rumors that the movie would be set in the sixties.

Image courtesy Marvel Studios

The official Heartsong ornaments 2020

Every December when I was younger, my mom created handmade Christmas ornaments for my brother and me. Her plan was to provide us with ornaments of our own to use when we were older. She had a theory: when we moved out of her house to start life on our own we would have at least 18 Christmas ornaments to decorate the Christmas tree we get four ourseves. It wasn’t just Aaron and me either. She made these ornaments for all of the Budd family cousins too.

Annie also indulges in this crafting tradition. She started making ornaments with Joylyn when it was only the two of them together. Now, with our families blended together, the holiday crafts continue.

There is a difference though. When I was a kid, Aaron and I just let mom do her thing. These days, the ornaments are a family affair. The kids help brainstorm ideas and often handle sharpies and hot glue guns to assemble and decorate the family ornaments we give as gifts to our closest friends and family.

It was tempting to aim for funny this year. The thematic possibilities for 2020 were endless. We even googled in search of toilet paper roll and murder bee shaped confetti. We looked for miniature medical masks to place inside a plastic globe. We pondered the viability of using dollar store sized bottles of hand sanitizer.

After much contemplation, a decision was made to avoid the year in review approach to ornament making. No references to the pandemic, social distancing, the election, Netflix binging, conference calls, extreme weather, or apocalyptic animals.

We realize 2020 has been a weird year. This was the year that real life imitated something halfway in between Maury Povich and the twilight zone. It started with a tiger king refusing to accept reality and is ending with an American president who refuses to accept reality. In between those two cultural mileposts, we’ve seen mask orders and anti-mask rallies. We got professional sports played in empty arenas and super-spreader parties held in NYC, DC, and LA. New generations of video game consoles were released with near life-like graphics yet the most popuar game in America is a cartoony contest about armless spacesuit wearing little people trying to catch a murderous imposter while fixing their spaceship. Graduations were observed on zoom, vacations were cancelled, theaters were closed, and everyone had to figure out how to live life six feet apart.

This world has enough crazy, we didn’t need to add to it. We ached for something normal. Nothing could be more normal for us than this.

Inside a plastic mason jar, you’ll find feathers and snow. Well, artificial snow but the feathers are real - mostly from our chickens and ducks with a few from our turkey, Uno.

While we love our horses, the birds are the heartbeat of Heartsong Meadow. Annie had a pair of Chinese geese when she moved to the farm. Elvis, a black silkie, was one of the first three chickens we got and is the OG of our farm animals. Ruby and Stanley are long time fowl residents. Wasabi the emu is one of our newest feathered friends and he’s quickly become a favorite part of our world. This farm wouldn’t be what it is without the birds.

They greet us every morning. We’ve hatched several, both naturally and artificially, raising some ducks and chickens from tiny lil ducklings and chicks. Joylyn collects eggs and sells them. Chloe has trained a few chickens to jump on her and perch on her shoulder. Annie and I even rescued a dozen abused birds while on the way to a Valentine’s Day date. Now everyone wants to pet and hug the emu.

When it came time to design this year’s ornaments, it made sense to do something with the feathers. In a year as weird and wild as 2020, the birds kept us grounded.

We all took turns collecting feathers, searching for the cleanest and most intact plumage we could find. The birds blow feathers frequently enough that we could have made 100 ornaments. However, we only made 19.

If you receive one of the Heartsong ornaments, we are sharing with you a piece of our hearts. The fake snow has been added because we’re always dreaming of a white Christmas.

Maybe next year we’ll do something funny.

For the XP

Garage sales and yard sales are curious attractions. You walk several miles within a small and contained plot of land. The items you think will sell don't while other items you doubt anyone would ever buy are the first to go. And people show up with odd requests, looking for items completely unrelated to anything visibly available for purchase as if there’s a secret stash somewhere.

We held a yard sale this weekend. Unloaded stuff that had been cluttering the garage for months. Made some money that will help fund a home construction project. We still need to take the unsold items to Goodwill for donations. Our best profits came from the coffee stand the kids staffed. Chickens visited. And Frosty decided to graze his way through the merchandise.

Less stuff and extra money are nice benefits, but even if we didn't sell a single item, we were visited by a party that made the whole yard sale worth having. Early on Saturday afternoon, an SUV pulled into our driveway. An older man, roughly my dad's age, stepped out of the driver's seat and explained their situation.

His elderly mother was sitting in the front passenger seat. He and his wife took her out for a drive, showing her the area. They planned on cruising around Newman Lake before heading up to Greenbluff. They had no intention of stopping at any yard sales, but as they drove by our house they saw the animals and knew they had to stop. The two geese and all five goats were hanging out by the garage, chickens were scattered all over the yard, and Zu was riding one of our horses in the back pasture. The old man explained his mom grew up on a farm. It had been several years since she was near a bunch of barnyard creatures and he wanted to reconnect her with memories of her youth.

I invited them out to walk around, but the man said his mom wasn't very mobile any more. So instead, I picked up Kazoo, one of our goats, and carried her to their car where the mom could see Kazoo up close. We discussed the animals for a while, and I provided driving directions to their remaining destinations. As we talked, it became clear the man's mom was in the twilight of her life; her health was failing and she was non-verbal - communicated through nodding or shaking her head. By the time her son climbed back into the driver's seat, tears began to well in the corners of her eyes and a faint smile lit up her face.

Their visit reminded me of my dad and his mom. Grandma Casey is in a similar stage in her life. These strangers helping their mom navigate old age is like the traveling my dad has done to spend as much time with his mom as he possibly can. I recalled phone conversations with my grandma, each time I wonder if it will be the last time I hear her voice. They reinforced lessons of wisdom older generations have given me since I was a kid: at the end of your life, you will value your memories more than your money. Your experiences will always be of greater worth than the stuff you accumulate.

In video games, you are rewarded with XP or experience points for completing missions, defeating opponents, and performing specific tasks. Gaining more XP increases your character's health, strength, and abilities. Life is much the same. Our experiences affect our health. They can improve our strength and knowledge. They give us wisdom. The things we do and the relationships we build propel us through this world, it is the foundation for the memories we treasure when our lives come to an end.

This summer, Annie and I came to a realization. We have a small house for a family of seven. Storage space is minimal. It's obvious we don't need more stuff, so we decided we're not giving the kids big gifts for birthdays and Christmas. Instead, we're giving them adventures. No more toys and gadgets that will sit unused after the kids play with it once. We're going to take them out for a fun activity, something that will build memories to last a lifetime. It's real world XP. Giving them something that will build better bonds between them as siblings and with us as parents. Giving them a wonderous and exciting life. Giving them stories to tell their friends. Giving them a foundation to build upon as they grow up. Letting them know our time with them is the most important thing in the world.

Our first attempt at the adventure birthday gift was a success. We took the boys to Silverwood and filled the day with thrills and laughter. My oldest son will always remember being braver than Dad after riding Aftershock, the roller coaster that I refused to board. My youngest son will always remember sitting next to me for his first three roller coasters and how I helped him overcome his fear. The expressions on their faces as they watched Nick Norton's magic show are images I will carry with me through the rest of my days. Hearing Christian announce over and over how the trip was the best gift anyone ever got him made every penny worth spending. They both gained XP and leveled up.

As caretakers, whether as parents raising children, or grown adults caring for the parents who raised us, creating these memorable moments are our most important tasks. It could be as elaborate as a day at a theme park or as simple as visiting a farm. The XP we gain in life will become the memories we cherish for years to come. The old lady's smile and tears were enough to convince me: Annie and I made the right choice.

Bailing Out

Through geekery alone, my knowledge is significant. I can crack open a book, read, and absorb information; surf the internet and flex my Google-Fu; take classes and attend seminars. The possibilities seem endless. But there are limits. There are things that you cannot fully understand until experienced through hands-on application. I can argue superiority between Star Trek and Star Wars because I've seen all the movies and TV shows; I've played video games and board games related to both franchises. I've experienced both fandoms so my knowledge is equally practical and intellectual.

However ...

There are things where (until recently) I've had no need to learn through visual, auditory, or kinesthetic pursuits. Farming is one of those topics. During 1985’s Farm Aid concert, I knew American growers faced a financial crisis, fighting against political pressures. However, I was only six years old so the technical details and shifting dynamics in our economy were far beyond my grasp. I knew nothing of the changes corporate agriculture had on independent and small family farms. First grade curriculum doesn’t include the concepts of supply and demand, property rights, mass production, or GMOs. Even as I got older and learned about economic principles and American civics, costs and efforts required to harvest food were irrelevant to me. I was a product of the suburbs, completely disinterested in the agrarian lifestyle. I saw the American heartland as endless amber waves of grain, boring scenery between me and Grandma's house. I valued purple mountain majesty and fruited plains, preferred the scent of cedar groves and alpine meadows over dairy air, and would rather hear honking horns than mooing bovine. I was content to keep it that way. If I could go to the grocery store and buy prepackaged delights, then the plight of the farmer was not my concern.

Priorities have shifted over the past several months. Farming is no longer something other people do; it's a part of my daily life. My health improved because of the work it takes to build fencing and stack hay. I appreciate the view from my back porch where I watch the sunset every evening. I love the darkness at night, revealing a vast expanse of stars undiminished from the light pollution plaguing city folk. I also understand how hard you must labor to enjoy this life and how much it costs to maintain it.

We love our horses. Horses eat a lot of hay. Hay can be expensive - especially when the horses eat (roughly) a ton of food each month.

Until now, the financial side of equestrian care was a foreign subject. Money spent on field fencing is staggering for someone who has never investigated those prices. A trip to the theater for the newest Marvel movie (including soda and popcorn) is cheap compared to the price tags on saddles at the tack shop. I've been exposed to the world of rodeos, household repair, and farm maintenance. I now spend time in North 40 and Home Depot the same way a younger version of me once occupied Hastings and GameStop. I’ve become familiar with how expensive it is to maintain a farm with goats, geese, ducks, chickens, horses, and a free-spirited rabbit who does whatever it wants; I also see how hard my neighbors work with their pigs and cattle. We purchased hay from local farms - all of which are grown and harvested by young families or old men wanting to be productive after retiring from the workforce. I’m grateful for how much they spend on equipment and the hard work they do to cut and bale the hay we buy to feed our animals.

When I hear people talk about their motivations behind voting or Trump, it makes sense to me. Vibrancy fades once you get out of urban centers and bedroom communities. Small towns in rural America have been shrinking. I've driven through many dwindling municipalities with boarded up windows, signs announcing store closures, and empty streets on what should have been a busy day filled with people shopping for goods, services, and supplies. Their populations are leaving for better opportunities in bigger cities, costs of running a farm are increasing, profits from selling meat and produce are slimmer. Their way of life is slowly disappearing. Livelihoods of many Americans depend on their land, their crops, their livestock. They see an uncertain future, a possible end to their lifestyle. Justified or not, many of them blame Obama and Democratic policies for these changes. Afraid of losing everything they've ever known, they believe Donald Trump was the only candidate who cared about them. They thought Trump was the one would protect the familiar, he would be a champion of their values and interests.

Economic, social, political, and demographic insecurity. They were unsettled by changes in the populace from gay rights and immigration to lower attendance in their churches every Sunday morning. They saw massive societal shifts and it scared them. People who are anxious of losing their status, power, or influence can act irrationally. Fear makes us stupid. Trump tapped into those fears and exploited them. Now, the farmers who voted for him need rescue from the negative impacts of his administration.

It's sad because it was all entirely predictable. We could see this coming. Trump campaigned on promises of trade wars and tariffs. Democrats raged against his plans. Comedians and late-night talk show hosts mocked him. Conservatives voiced tempered concern. Economists predicted disaster. When Trump threatened trade wars, we all knew it wouldn't end well. We all knew what would happen. Those of us who opposed Trump tried to warn everyone. Yet Trump still won the election. The predictions of doom came true and the people hurt the worst by Trump's tariffs are (or were) his biggest supporters. Trump offered a $12-billion bail out to offset the consequences of harm caused by his trade war.

Money fixes everything.

How do you get a slice of that $12-billion pie? Our farm needs two more pastures fenced in, a new round pen, deer fencing erected so we can start our garden, privacy landscaping planted to shield our pool from view of people driving by, and several trees need to be felled or pruned. A pest control treatment would be nice. Our work truck broke down and needs replaced. When you live on a farm, there are always a list of projects you'll complete if/when you get a little extra cash. Our list is a little longer than most.

Realistically though, my family won't qualify for any funds. Nor will my neighbors, or the ma & pa farms where we purchase hay. Operations like ours are ineligible. The $12-billion will not be going to independent and family farms with small acreage. Instead, large corporate owned farms are getting it. Companies who stock the frozen foods isle at major grocery stores. Ag-industry giants who supply beef and French fries to fast food chains. The bailouts are gifts to big businesses, not to the people who need it most.

Let’s treat those poor farmer-CEOs the way many conservatives malign impoverished Americans. They don't deserve welfare, need a hand up not a hand up. It's time they pull themselves up by the bootstraps. They're just lazy. I don't pay my taxes so these people can have money handed to them – no strings attached. Who do they think funds their free lunch? They better not be buying beer or cigarettes. If they're unable to pay their bills, they should go get a second or third job. They could drive their tractors for Uber or list their farms on Airbnb. Perhaps they should be drug tested before they get a bailout. Why not drug test all their employees? Hopefully none of those employees are undocumented workers; we'd have to deport them.

If all else fails, we can vote differently in November than we did in 2016. We might still be scared; hopefully we're smarter.

Rampage: a review

I wanted to write an eloquent review of Rampage. I started, then deleted a draft detailing my love for the original arcade game in the late 80's and early 90's. It followed into my enjoyment of the console versions released on the original PlayStation and later for XBOX. Let's be realistic though. Rampage is an atrocious movie. It is undeserving of such an articulately composed review. So, I'll be blunt. This movie should not have been made.

Even though video games usually do not translate into quality cinema, I still had tempered expectations for Rampage. I anticipated a big, stupid, yet somewhat fun film. It delivered on the big and stupid, but failed to provide any fun. When compared to the irresistible and cathartic amusement of its source material, it is unfortunate an unforgivable for the theatrical interpretation to be such an abysmal mess.

this was fun, image courtesy of Bally Midway

As for where the movie version of Rampage went wrong, let's start with the basic plot. Vulture published an article claiming "Why Rampage Is the Most Faithful Video-Game Adaptation Ever Made" yet provided no evidence of the film's faithfulness. Because it's not faithful at all. Rampage (the game) was a simple story about a giant lizard, ape, and wolf destroying one city after another. Rampage (the movie) had a convoluted story about weaponizing genetic modifications, a primatologist's relationship with his best gorilla friend, and corporate espionage. It was also (kinda sorta) about a giant lizard, ape, and wolf destroying some of one singular city. The only continuity between the two mediums is that big monsters destroyed some buildings. In the video game, the monsters were once humans transformed by exposure to toxic chemicals. Lizzie, George, and Ralph then traveled the world attempting to destroy all the cities where they found chemical plants ran by their employer, ScumLabs. In the movie, ordinary animals were exposed to growth hormones from illegal gene manipulation experiments conducted on a space station and drawn to the corporate headquarters of Energyne by some sort of undetectable radio signal. Some of those animals mutated to include DNA of other creatures. For example, the wolf can glide like a flying squirrel and throw quills like a porcupine. Meanwhile, the gorilla was only supersized versions of his original body.

Beyond deviations from the game's origin story and minimal plot, there is much more to the movie Rampage worth complaint. The CGI was inconsistent - impressive at best and shoddy at worst. While the fur and skin creature effects looked great, there were scenes in the movie where it was obvious you were watching The Rock in front of a green screen. The bad guys were just bad. Not so-bad-we-love-them, but over the top, mind-numbingly cheesy, and so bad it's not even enjoyable to watch - like a humorless version of Pinky and The Brain. Anything hinting at their motives was incoherent. The game's original arcade cabinet showed up in the background of several scenes but only as decoration. No one played or even mentioned it; its existence is more a self-congratulatory salute from a filmmaker trying too hard than it is a celebratory nod to the franchise's fans. The only logic of the film's plot is to supply the main characters with quippy one-liners, whatever might look cool to a seven-year-old so they can sell toys, and convenience as a crutch for sloppy screenwriting/lazy storytelling. There are no explanations why the wolf had DNA spliced in from other species while the gorilla did not, or why the crocodile grew so much bigger than the other monsters. Police and military are portrayed as incompetent buffoons for no apparent reason. Characters are introduced and disposed of faster than it takes to flush a toilet. The primatologist has a lengthy backstory including combat with Army Special Forces, working as an anti-poaching officer on African wildlands, and extensive philanthropic work because why not. He's an expert at everything and would be considered over-powered he was an actual videogame character. On top of all of that, the gorilla (who communicates through sign language) has the inappropriate, dirty, perverted sense of humor of a junior high aged boy, and failed to learn how jokes are funny the first time, not funny the second time, and annoying any time after that. Finally, for a film based on a game where the sole purpose was destroying things, the movie's destruction was disappointingly minimal. They spent too much time with intrapersonal conflict between the main characters, the villains hatching their schemes, the military planning action then watching it unfold from a remote location, pointless conversations, and jokes beaten to death through repetition.

The only redeeming quality in Rampage is the trio of heroes. Duane Johnson (the primatologist), Naomie Harris (the genetic engineer and former Energyne employee), and Jeffrey Dean Morgan (rogue government agent) fully embraced the silliness of their roles. It's as if they knew they were making a bad movie so they might as well enjoy doing it - which is good for them because I did not enjoy this movie. I really wish I could recommend this movie but I can't. It failed to live up to my lowest of low expectations. It was big, dumb, and boring. It isn't even worth the price of popcorn at the theater's concessions and I've now wasted more words on Rampage here than it deserves.

this was not fun, image courtesy of New Line Cinema

The Borderlands Parenting Method

As my kids get older, I sometimes think parenting is going to get easier. It doesn’t. To be fair, it doesn’t get harder either. Instead, it gets different. Or maybe different is harder. By the time the difficulty of raising a child increases, your skill as a parent has also improved so what others see as more challenging is not of greater difficulty to you. Just different.

I could be wrong though. Maybe parenting does get harder as kids grow up. Perhaps the difficulty level remains constant. Either way, one fact remains true, it doesn’t get easier.

I’ve spent time pondering how things change as my kids grow up. I linger on the issues they face and the best strategy to deal with each individual challenge they experience. I’ve engaged in conversations of how it sometimes seems harder, yet at the same time it only feels like a different kind of difficulty. As I try to explain what being a parent is like to me, my mind wanders to a motley collection of treasure hunters on the alien planet Pandora.

Wait, what?

Pandora is the setting for the Borderlands series of video games. Gaming is one of the ways my kids and I bond. My oldest and I have been playing the first Borderlands game together, going through the story in co-op. Along the way, he’s learning the value of teamwork, problem solving and strategic planning skills, the payoff of trial and error, and relief from dumb luck.

Borderlands is one of my favorite games from the last ten years. A unique art style, seamless blend of a first-person shooter with role-playing mechanics, adventurous Indiana Jones styles story that’s part sci-fi and part western.

Players select one of four treasure hunters, each possesses an individual skillset so each character plays differently. They set out to find a mythical vault on a remote mining planet inhabited by bandits, savages, rakks, and skags. Along the way, you search every locker, toilet, and pile of sticks for money, ammunition, and health kits. You protect locals, take odd jobs, and work as a mercenary while accumulating the ability and powers needed to defeat increasingly bigger and stronger enemies. You choose your missions based on your skill level, careful to avoid those tasks too difficult or dangerous for your character.

image courtesy of 2K Games

While Christian and I have enjoyed our time facing each trial as we explorer Pandora, I realized we were playing more than a game. Our button mashing translates into an allegory for my role of a father.

When you start the game, the first enemies are weak and easily defeated. Yet the character you play is inexperienced and powerless, so those wimpy bandits are challenging for a new player. As you battle ravenous creatures and face off against the violent profiteers, your strength grows. With new powers, those early enemies seem much easier to overcome. You can kill them with one shot instead of expending your entire supply of bullets on a lone thug. However, to continue the main story, you must tackle bigger and badder foes. Missions are progressively more perilous. Boss battles increase in difficulty. Objectives are harder to achieve. The final mission is more difficult than the first, yet it isn’t unsurmountable. It’s a different kind of difficult because your abilities grow along with the power of your enemies. A seasoned player will struggle through later stages of the game the same way a first-time player will struggle through the initial battle.

Just like parenting. With more guns.

Nothing really prepares you for your first child. Read all the books you want. Educate yourself and get advice from experts. You can be mostly ready. Sooner or later though, your child will do something so mind bogglingly absurd your only logical response will be frozen terror and the sudden recognition you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.

A newborn presents many challenges for first time parents. Diapers are confusing to someone who’s never had to change one before. There are products like wipes and powders that must be juggled with a circus performer’s skill. Once you kinda get the hang of it, your baby will pee in your direction (perhaps on you) the moment their privates are free of the confines of their diaper. Dressing your child for the first time can be confusing, and you might feel like you need a degree in chemistry if you want to prepare their bottle with the correct formula to water ratio.

In retrospect, these tasks are simple. After a few months of changing diapers, you could probably do it blindfolded. You can strip them of one outfit and into a change of clothes fast enough to elude notice. Bottle feedings become so routine you’ll inevitably fall asleep while holding a bottle in your child’s mouth. When they cry, you’ll know their either tired, hungry, or poopy; it’ll be trial and error trying to figure out which. The things you once thought difficult will become second nature. You complete these tasks on instinct and muscle memory.

Yet, as you find certain aspects of raising a child easier, new challenges arise. Your kid begins to walk and you quickly discover your preemptive attempts to baby-proof your home were woefully inadequate. When they transition from milk to solids, baby foods will prove to be a more difficult medium for feeding your child. I’ll promise the first time you try to shove a spoon in their mouth, more food will get on the outside of them than the inside. Again, you’ll figure it out. It’ll get easier and at the same time get harder. They get older and bigger and present new challenges.

You’ll face sickness and accidents. You’ll corral crying children in the middle of a grocery store under the judgmental glare of strangers. You’ll fend off the beggings of a toddler who wants only wants you to buy them a treat. You’ll tackle teaching them to dress themselves, brush their teeth, ride a bike, throw and catch a ball. You’ll struggle through school enrollment and dropping them off at their first day of kindergarten.

There’s more. Soon you’ll navigate the world of homework, parent-teacher conferences, school bullies, extra-curricular activities, dating, and juggling all the schedules for everything related to your child. You’ll buy new clothes then a week later, your kid will hit a growth spurt and those new clothes won’t fit any more. You’ll have to figure out what music you feel are appropriate for your kids and determine what TV shows and movies you will allow for enter entertainment. You’ll struggle steering them away from friends who are bad influences.

As each prior task becomes manageable, the next task shows up with increasing difficulty. Your skills and abilities and talents as a parent grow just in time to face bigger and badder parenting tasks. However, it never seems like the new challenges are harder than they were when you were a brand-new parent. It’s not harder, just different. The things that frustrate parents of teens would be impossible for you to face when you were a new parent. Yet everything you experienced from that moment on will prepare you for what is happening now. Even though now is harder than then, you’re also more prepared and capable than you were back then.

Just like Borderlands. With less guns.

Yes, But Kinda

I am a pacifist. Well, I probably shouldn't use those words in that order. A more accurate statement would be: I try to be a pacifist.

As far as pacifism is concerned, I'm a terrible pacifist. I’m bad. I've read and reread many of Stephen King's books, stories and novels that are gloriously violent. I include both Fight Club and The Matrix in my list of all-time favorite movies and both films are smorgasbord of gunplay and fist fights. I own (and play) several violent video games from Street Fighter to Grand Theft Auto to Call of Duty. I watch football and hockey more than any other sport and they're known for player injuries and five-minute penalties for fighting.

To recap: I'm a pacifist with reading preferences skewed toward violence, who still loves bloody mayhem in movies, has no qualms committing acts of violence in fantasy (just averse to doing so in real life), and is a fan of violent athletic competitions.

Outside of entertainment, I still might be the worst possible advocate for pacifism. At least once a week, I ponder how satisfying it would be to throat-punch someone. I would never strike a Nazi, but I wouldn't object if someone else hit a Nazi. Simple schadenfreude (deriving satisfaction from observing someone else's unintentional yet self-inflicted pain and/or misfortune) is one of my greatest indulgences. My inner mind applauds when I see arrogance humbled, impatience forced to wait, or folly find failure. Those are thought patterns a good pacifist would abhor.

The allure is difficult for me to resist. However, I realize how the cycle of violence is ultimately fruitless. And I have written on this topic before. How America has a problem with violence and an obsession with guns. How when everyone is armed, it is impossible to define who is a good guy with a gun. How an armed society is not a polite society. How we all believe the myth of redemption through violence - (or a belief in violence preventing violence).

Since the dawn of humanity, we have had it backwards, placing too much value in vicious methods. Violence begets more violence. It escalates. It isn't a solution, it is an invitation to retaliation. In a violent world, no one wins.

I know these facts, yet I still read books with violent protagonists and villains, play video games where I control violent and heavily armed characters, and watch TV shows and movies filled with acts of violence. My values are walking contradictions. I am one part Tyler Durden and one part Mahatma Gandhi. It is my own cognitive dissonance where I simultaneously avoid and consume violence. I am a spectator and a participant, a critic and a curator.

So I will call myself a part-time pacifist. A pacifist in theory only. An angry pacifist. A lousy excuse of a pacifist. I am one, even if I'm not a good at it.

Tomb Raider: a Review

Historically speaking, video games do not have a stellar record translating into movies. More often then not, they are box office bummers. Failures. Duds. Think of, if you can remember them, movies like Super Mario Bros (with John Leguizamo), Doom (with Dwayne Johnson), Max Payne (with Mark Wahlberg), or more recent adaptations like Warcraft or Assassin's Creed. These movies either try too hard to feel like you're watching a video game or stray too far away from the source material. Additionally, they miss the mark with sloppy storylines, wooden dialog, and bad CGI.

Sure, some of them have been entertaining. A few were even mildly successful. Movies like Street Fighter, Mortal Combat, the pair of Lara Croft movies with Angelina Jolie, and the Resident Evil series have some cinematic worth. Still, they're campy films with glaring flaws. And the best video game movies, aren't adapted from actual video games - like Wreck-It-Ralph or last year's Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle.

Major studios see the billions of dollars in video game revenue made each year and they want to tap into the gamer demographic. Despite their many (and I do mean many) flops, studios keep making more movies based on video game franchises. For fans of both movies and video games, we go through a repetitive cycle: excitement, doubt, hype, hope, disappointment, and regret. Every time news is released about an upcoming adaptation, we think 'could this be the one to get it right?' Then we see the movie and walk away hoping, 'maybe next time.'

The new Tomb Raider movie is that next time. This is a movie adaptation faithful to the video games while still providing an engaging cinematic experience. I walked out of the theater thinking this might be the best video game ever. With a 50% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, it is also one of the most positively reviewed video game adaptations.

Tomb Raider stars Alicia Vikander as Lara Croft, a college-aged daughter of a wealthy business man and adventurer, played by Dominic West. She lost her father seven years earlier (their sweet bond is explored through flashbacks), and now as a young adult she refuses to admit he is dead or accept any of her prodigious inheritance. Instead, she works as a bike courier and barely makes enough money to pay her bills. After finding a key and cryptic message her father left for her in his will, she embarks on a journey to follow his footsteps and solve the mystery of his disappearance.

This trip leads Lara to beautiful locales starting with her London home, through Hong Kong, to an uninhabited island near Japan. Along the way, she meets muggers, a drunken sailor, and treasure hunting mercenaries. The film incorporates many of the tropes from the Tomb Raider games: riddles and puzzles, traps hidden in floor switches, undiscovered temples, running on and jumping from surfaces that are not sturdy enough to support an adult human's weight, clinging to the sides of ledges, and scavenging for resources. Even Lara's choice in weapons pull from the more recent versions of the game, a bow and arrow, and a climbing ax.

image courtesy of Warner Bros & MGM

While I think Tomb Raider could be the best video game adaptation ever, it isn’t free of error. While it creates a thorough story arc for Lara, she’s the only character that feels like a real person. Her father is nearly cartoonish, the merc boss (Walton Goggins) is pure bad guy with no redeeming qualities. Lu Ren (Daniel Wu) is the generic Asian and loyal sidekick. Outside of the film’s protagonist, there is little character development. Many of the action sequences are intended to feel like the games. While it creates a thrill, they’re also implausible (and occasionally physically impossible). The plot is entirely predictable and only exists to propel Lara through the transformation from who she was to who she becomes and to set up a main antagonist for the inevitable sequels.

Despite Tomb Raider’s weaknesses, it is still an enjoyable movie. It proves that a good video game movie can be made. Good, but far from perfect. It should captivate anyone who has played the games, with enough Easter eggs and references to satisfy Lara Croft’s biggest fans. For those who have never played a Tomb Raider game, this is still an adequate popcorn flick for anyone with a craving for action movies.

Changing Perspectives: Turn the Other Cheek

Hit someone. Not literally, rather imagine yourself hitting someone. Likely, you see that person standing in front of you, face to face. If you're right-handed, you throw a right jab into their left shoulder or on the left side of their jaw line. If you're left-handed, it's a left jab to their right side. Or if you possess a mean streak, you delivered an uppercut, sending your foe sprawling backwards and possibly knocking them out. We've watched enough Rocky movies. We played Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! We know how this works.

When Jesus talked about someone striking your cheek, this is what we envision. We think boxing matches. We think mixed martial arts. We think drunken bar-room brawl. We think "Meet me on the playground after school." We think a couple of guys who are up to no good started making trouble in my neighborhood.

This is America, we think fist to face.

But first century Jews and Roman citizens would not have had the same approach to the sermon that we do. Jesus was also specific in his language making it clear that he wasn't talking about bare-knuckle fighting. The two words Jesus used that provides us context are the method and target of this hypothetical strike.

First, the method. Jesus said, "When someone slaps you ... " There are two ways to slap someone: with an open palm or with the back of your hand. In the original Greek language, the word was ῥαπίζει – pronounced rhapizei – which means to strike and is where we get the English word rap (think Edgar Allan Poe “some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door”). On its own, this word could be any kind of hit from a punch to the use of a blunt force weapon. Yet most translations use slap for a reason which has everything to do with where the slap lands.

The target of the strike is the right cheek. Jesus’ words were δεξιὰν σιαγόνα or dexion (meaning the right-hand side) siagóna (meaning the jawbone or cheek). Jesus describes it as follows: when someone rhapizei your dexion siagóna – strikes or hits your right side’s jawbone or cheek.

Why is this important? Remember, Jesus lived in first century Palestine. Toilet paper wasn’t used until the sixth century in China, and it wasn’t commercially patented in America until 1857. During ancient times in the Middle East, people used their left hand for sanitary purposes. The Jewish crowds who were listening to Jesus preach would have considered their left hand to be unclean. They would only strike someone using their right hand.

Go back to imagining yourself hitting someone. They are facing you and you must punch their right side using your right hand. It’s a little bit awkward. Now resort to a slap. If you use an open palm with your right hand, you’d slap their left cheek. If you want to strike their right cheek with your right hand, you would slap them with the back of your hand. This is where it gets interesting. It is embarrassing to get slapped. That has never been a kind gesture in any culture. But in the Roman Empire, a backhanded slap was reserved for those whom the assaulter feels are inferior. In other words, if I were to slap your left cheek with an open fist, I would be insulting you, but I would see you as my equal. But if I were to deliver a backhanded slap, I would still be insulting you, but I would also be demonstrating how I think I am better than you – you wouldn’t be worth an open fist.

This understanding makes the words of Jesus much more radical. He begins, “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek,” and ends with instruction “turn to them the other cheek.” Modern audiences miss what Jesus is trying to say. We read this and think Jesus wants us to get beat up. “Well, if someone hits you, let them hit you again!” That is not the point Jesus wanted to make. Instead, he was urging you to assert your own worth.

If someone slaps your right cheek, they see you as a person with lesser stature. If someone slaps your right cheek, show them your humanity. Turning your other cheek doesn’t guarantee you’ll be hit a second time. The possibility is there, but only if they see you as an equal. Turning the other cheek is your way of saying, I’m here. I’m human. You are not better than me. Show me some respect.

Evolution of a Writer

Before I was a blogger, I was a poet. Actually, I was a songwriter first. Well, that still isn’t accurate. Before I was anything, I avoided writing everything.

In my earliest memories, I did as little writing as possible. In preschool, when the teachers were teaching us to write our own names, I shortened Nicholas to Nic because I didn’t want to take the time to write my whole name. In elementary school, homework was often incomplete if it was done at all. My handwriting was sloppy. Other kids could write a full page in the time it took me to scribble one full paragraph; I was slow so I figured it wasn’t my thing.

There had to be something wrong with me. My grades were suffering because of it. I was smart (I tested into the highest tier of IQ for my age group) yet I was rarely able to focus in class and barely survived with grades somewhere between needs improvement and mediocre.

One summer, my parents tried to fix it. School was out and they were determined to turn me into a better student by the following September. On a warm weekend, we went over to some friends of my parents for a barbecue. I liked going there because their boys were close to my age and they had a ColecoVision with several games including my favorites: BurgerTime and Pitfall. During this visit, my parents set a restriction: before I could play video games I had to copy three pages word-for-word from a book called Medical Mysteries. It was a tortuous task and unforgettable experience. I complained the whole time and when I was done my hands hurt so much that I didn’t feel like playing any games. My parent’s efforts failed; I still hated to write and school continued to be a struggle.

In seventh grade, my friend Matt introduced me to grunge. Our math teacher allowed us to pick out the music to play while we completed our worksheets. Matt had a copy of the Sap EP that Alice in Chains had released earlier that month. Soon, like most other junior high aged kids in the Seattle suburbs, I thought grunge was the coolest thing in the world. A year later, Matt told me he was in a band. I asked him who wrote their songs and he said, “We do, it’s easy – think of a word and write about it.” As our eighth grade year was coming to an end, he told me that if I wrote a song for his band, they might use it.

Over the summer, I penned my first song. It was called Reach. I wrote it on the blank side of an offering envelope during a Sunday night church service while I probably should have been listening to the pastor. Of course, it wasn’t a complete song – just words. I could hear the melody in my head but since I couldn’t play any instruments, the music portion of the song was never created. When we returned to school to start ninth grade, Matt was still in a band but I never gave him the lyrics to Reach. I was insecure and filled with the self-loathing teenaged angst my generation perfected in the 90s. I was sure my work wasn’t good enough.

I kept writing though, suddenly finding enjoyment in placing words on paper. For a while, I stuck with the basic verse chorus verse song structure, fully intending to find a guitarist who could help add music to match what I imagined when I created the lyrics. Eventually though, the song craft morphed into poetry and prose. It wasn’t good poetry by any measure. I was a nerdy high school kids so there were limits to my talents. But it sustained me through the latter half of my teen years as I filled up notebook after notebook with my own creative work.

The poetic writing continued into my early 20s. Then I met a girl and I really liked her. Unfortunately, my creative spark vanished. I would try and write a poem but instead stare at a blank page wondering if I had run out of words. I couldn’t write a love song if my life depended on it. Apparently, heartbreak, anger, and frustration were better motivators than feelings of infatuation and romance. With the rhythms and rhymes gone from my imagination, my writings morphed again. I started emailing letters – essays to my dad. I wrote about people who were making waves in pop culture. I argued that if Christians really believed what the bible says, we should pray for these people instead of criticizing them.

That girl and I got married. We packed up everything we owned and moved to South Dakota. During the two-day drive from Coeur d’Alene to Sioux Falls, I was either driving or reading. My new father-in-law wrote fan-fiction and he had a short story he was going to submit into a contest. Even though his story was set in a universe fandom that I didn’t follow, I still read it. I thought it was good; the story was engaging and entertaining. Then somewhere between Sturgis and Wall, an inescapable thought hit me: I could totally do this. Not necessarily authoring fan-fiction but writing stories. I’ve always been a good story teller, all I had to do was commit it to ink and paper.

I tried. I thought I could write the next great novel. Unfortunately, I had a bad case of ‘Ooooh, Shiny.’ Every time I had an idea for a book, I composed a chapter or three then got distracted by other ideas. Even if I plotted out the entire story line ahead of time, I couldn’t create more than a few chapters before giving up. Life got complicated. We had a kid, and my wages were our only income so writing took a back seat for a while.

Then came this blog. I’ve already described how this thing I do evolved from a whim because a coworker was doing it to being The Faithful Geek. Now I’m making efforts to make this worth something and turn it into tangible income. (Speaking of which, help a starving artist and click on some ads.) I’m hustling to complete my work-in-progress so I can turn it into a marketable manuscript. I am a writer – four words my parents would have never imagined me saying that summer they tried to fix my school habits 30 years ago. It is amazing how this activity I once loathed has become my passion.

I’ve been thinking about my old poetry a lot lately. Thinking about digging it up, polishing it off, and rewriting some of it. Maybe publishing some here. This afternoon, I realized something. It’s only been the last few years I’ve considered myself a writer but I’ve been one for a lot longer. It’s been nearly 23 years since I wrote my first song. Now, blogging has brought me through adopting kids, corporate restructuring, divorce, and returning to college. I might not have much to offer, but I can write. I don’t know what the future holds for my craft, but I do know writing is the thing I can’t not do.

More than a Princess

I grew up in a generation where women in pop culture were either the damsel in distress or nothing more than a romantic interest. They needed protection. They needed to be swept away by Hollywood's idealization of a man. They were there as eye candy. Even in the video games I played as a kid, the princess was in need of my help. Mario was on a pursuit to rescue Princess Peach from Bowser (who was always in the next castle) and Link explored all of Hyrule to save Princess Zelda.

Over and over, the lesson was reinforced: men were to be strong conquering heroes and women were to be beautiful but helpless on their own. These were not healthy character archetypes but it was the story told and retold from Disney cartoons to prime-time television dramas. If there was an exception to the rule that defied the trend of my childhood, that exception was in the Star Wars universe.

A New Hope opened with the biggest baddest villain in movie history capturing and imprisoning the Princess. Her secret message sent a simple farm boy along the hero's quest to discover his destiny. But Princess Leia was not the stereotypical helpless damsel. She was in distress but even while staring into the face of evil she was strong, defiant, and sassy. Her hope and faith never wavered. When Luke, Han, and Chewie showed up to help her escape she refused to let the guys do all of the work. She was an active participant in her own rescue mission.

Through the role of Leia Organa, Carrie Fisher demonstrated that women could be something more than what was normally portrayed in pop-culture. For the first time, I saw women as people who could kick ass. It was the first time I saw a woman serve as a leader worthy to be followed. She demonstrated a balance of tenderness and battle-ready passion in a way that I had never seen.

Over the course of three films, Leia led a rebellion and a revolution. She remained brave even in the wake of unfathomable grief. She used her chains to strangle the crime lord who tried to keep her in bondage. She befriended a dangerous sentient teddy bear and convinced its tribe to join her fight against the Empire. She possessed greater courage than her male counterparts. She was worked hard despite rarely receiving recognition for her efforts. As Leia, Fisher taught me one important fact: sometimes princesses were in need of rescue and sometimes they were the ones doing the rescuing.

image source: Trust me, I'm a Nerd.

Today, Leia is one with the force and Fisher has left this world. A lot has changed since the four year old version of me fell asleep in the theater while watching Return of the Jedi. I am no longer the kid that was thrilled to watch her ride a speeder bike, chasing after Stormtroopers.

As I return to the original Star Wars trilogy time and time again, I watch with new eyes. I am now the father of a daughter. I have grown from a boy who wanted to fall in love with a girl like Leia to a dad who wants his daughter to become a woman like Leia.

Someone who will always be willing to fight for what is true and good. Someone who will stand up against tyrants and bullies. Someone who will follow her convictions even when it leads her to great personal loss. Someone whose words will move the hearts and minds of everyone she meets. Someone who will be both vulnerable and tough. Someone who will befriend whiny losers, big walking carpets, and scruffy-looking nerf herders. Someone who will love the unlovable.

Off screen, Fisher battled her own demons from addiction to mental illness. Yet she did so with grace and humor. I know her career was wider and deeper than her role as Princess Leia as she contributed her acting skills to movies like When Harry Met Sally and Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. She was also a talented script doctor that lent her writing talents to some of my favorite movies.

But it is her iconic role in Star Wars that made her a geek legend who was universally adored. Because of her portrayal of the Princess of Alderaan, I have discovered something much like what was delivered to her at the end of Rogue One: Hope. She gave me hope that my daughter can be both a princess and a hero, both a peacemaker and a warrior, both delicate and unbreakable, both compassionate and fierce.

Ms. Fisher, we will hate watching you leave. Rest in peace and may the force be with you.

Serial Complainers

Serial complainers prior to July 6th, 2016:
"Kids these days. All they do is sit inside and play their video games and binge watch Netflix. When I was their age, I didn't have any of those fancy phones or iPads. We played outside until it was dark. We got dirty and no one cared. We know how to talk to other kids. Today, young people don't have a sense of community. They probably don't even know how to get to the grocery store unless their parents drive them. You know what they need? They need to get out more. Interact with their peers. Go to the library. Visit a park. Take a hike. No more of this watching TV all night mumbo jumbo."


Serial complainers since July 6th, 2016:
"Kids these days. They're every where. Like big masses of dimwitted cattle roaming the streets. Every park, every sidewalk, every coffee shop, every church. There is no escaping them. Hordes of youth taking crazy mumbo jumbo about Squirtles and Pidgeys, and Snorlaxes. Why do they have to invade the park and the library and the grocery store. I just wish they would stay home. They are even out after dark. Doesn't anyone care?"

***Full disclosure: I have not downloaded Pokémon Go onto my phone and don't intend to do so anytime soon. But many of my friends play and I am enjoying the pictures and stories and memes everyone is posting. Despite what the curmudgeons are saying, I believe this game is doing a great amount of good in our world.***

Teach your children well

When I was a kid, my mom's radio was almost permanently tuned to 97.3 KBSG, Seattle’s (former) oldies station. I was raised listening to the music of the 50's and 60's. Simon & Garfunkle, Aretha Franklin, Sam Cooke, The Righteous Brothers, The Monkeys, The Turtles, The Temptations.

There are a few songs I heard frequently enough that I can still remember every lyric despite not listening in years. One of those tunes is from Crosby, Stills & Nash: Teach Your Children.

I strive to do just that - to teach my children well. How to throw and catch a football (of which my daughter picked up quicker than either of her brothers); how to cook and use kitchen appliances; basic musical components of rhythm and melody; homework assistance in math and English; the quirky historical events you won't find in a text book; showing esteem to their elders; how to be a good friend to others; how to care for and enjoy nature; various theories about time travel and quantum physics; the joys of literature. My goal is to make sure my kids grow up to become well rounded and intelligent adults. I want them to be happy and healthy humans regardless of where their goals and dreams take them in this world.

While I get to teach my kids about the good in life, of hobbies and academics, of the wonders of the natural world and the possibilities of science, of God and hope and family, I also have to teach them about things that are not so happy. Because sexism and racism and homophobia are all still very real parts of our society. Because our communities are divided, bitter, and jaded. Because our nation is still struggling to find a balance in justice and human welfare and individual rights. Because our planet is constantly embroiled in warfare. Because their peers will struggle with addiction and depression. Because America is filled with greed and exploitation while the world beyond our borders face disease and poverty so incredibly difficult for us to comprehend. Because no matter where they go, there will always be bad people with evil intents.

We all know something needs to change. Many want to return to days of innocence and a better America of the 50s. And I could easily long to go back to the 80s and 90s thinking of how much easier life was back then. But I know that our longing for the past is tainted by a view through rose-colored glasses. We deceive ourselves with selective memories and revisionist history. We ignore the flagrant racism of the 50s, the sexual revolution of the 60s, the drug experimentation of the 70s, the proliferation of Wall Street greed in the 80s, the apathy and despondency of the 90s.

We can't go backwards. All we can do is change the future. The best way we can do that is through our kids. Give them the tools to heal the world. Give them opportunities to fix what we broke.

A couple of years ago, when #yesallwomen was a trending topic on Twitter, my first thought was that I didn’t want my daughter to grow up in a society where sexual assault and rape were so prevalent. Then I realized if I wanted that to happen, I needed to teach my sons to be better men. I need to raise my sons in a way that they do not perpetuate the culture of violence against women. I need to show my boys what it means to do the right thing. I need to make sure that my sons know sexual harassment and assault is a line that should never be crossed and that they will be brave enough to stand up to those who do cross that line.

My resolve was doubled during the gamergate controversy as internet trolls engaged in horrific stalking and harassment against women in the video game industry. My daughter loves playing video games and reading comic books. She is as big of a nerd as her brothers - possibly bigger. Unfortunately, there is a lot of misogyny in geek culture and gamergate demonstrated those biases in the ugliest ways possible. I want my daughter to find a safe and welcoming community among geeks. I want her to feel encouraged and supported studying STEM topics. I want her to be free to enjoy what she enjoys without worrying about asshole guys giving her a hard time for being a girl. But in order for that to happen, I need to teach my sons that girls can be geeks too. I need to show them how women make our community better. I need to encourage my boys to defend the rights of girls to play along in their world of superheroes, scientific experiments, and video game quests.

Perhaps this is what disturbs me the most about the news we have seen from Stanford. The Stanford campus averages one rape every two weeks. That was before Brock Turner was caught in the act and restrained by a couple good Samaritans. Perhaps this wouldn’t be news if it wasn’t for the inequality of our legal system, a system where the feelings and future of the perpetrator was elevated above those of the victim. We have seen a judge confirm the worst of what we believe about white privilege, the power of wealth, and preferential treatment given to those with athletic prowess.

As the days have progressed, I have watched an explosion of outrage, disgust, and cries for justice. Some of it aimed at Judge Persky as he cast blame upon a woman who was powerless to resist her attacker, sympathized with the rapist, and handed down a sentence that equates to little more than a slap on the wrist. Much of the ire is against the rapist’s dad, who penned a letter begging for leniency in his son’s sentence.

Regardless of how you feel about the events at Stanford, one thing should be clear. Dan Turner did not heed the advice of Crosby, Stills & Nash. He did not teach his child well. It is because of irresponsible parents like Dan Turner that I have to teach my daughter to protect herself from assholes like Brock Turner. I will have to teach my daughter to avoid boys who see women as conquests. I will teach her that she is loved and valued always. However, my daughter is not the only one who will be learning a lesson.

My sons will learn that they are always in control of their libido.
My sons will learn what consent means.
My sons will learn to own up to their mistakes. Because everyone makes mistakes.
My sons will learn that I will always love them and sometimes love allows the consequence of stupid actions.
My sons will learn that their privileges are not to be exploited but should be use to benefit those in need.
My sons will learn to treat women with gentleness and respect.

I will teach my children well. Even if people like Dan Turner do not.

Doing Something Right

Parenting can be like a lot of modern video games. It does not come packaged with any instructions, just a list of credits telling you who made what. The expectation is that you figure it out as you go along. You receive skill points (XP) for achievements, some parts are more challenging than others, and there is little motivation to go back and replay levels you previously conquered. You can get by with the basics, but to truly experience raising a child or playing a game, you have to find all of the hidden collectibles, earn each of the trophies, and unlock every upgrade. It can be expensive. Downloadable content (school clothes) and microtransactions (Christmas presents) greatly improve satisfaction; on their own they don't seem costly, but after a while the prices add up and look shameful in retrospect.

Did I just compare my kids to a $60 polycarbonate plastic disc filled with graphical and audio programming designed for digital entertainment? Maybe. It is a tenuous simile. However, as a mostly former gamer, I have slogged through some games with steep learning curves. I have hit the start button to dive into stories where the studios that created it expect the end user to know what they are doing with minimal explanation or instruction. This button jumps, that button interacts with objects, and the trigger uses your weapon. Good luck. You're on your own for IRL food, sleep, and potty breaks.

Yet even the most difficult game I have ever played is simple compared to the rigors of parenthood. As a trade off, being a dad is infinitely more rewarding than beating the final boss or reaching the end of the last world in any video game. At least, it is if you do it right.

The biggest challenge in parenting is wondering if your strategy is working. I think much of being a parent is composed of not knowing what you are doing while hoping for the best. Ideally, we reach out to some older/wiser types who have been there and done that. We listen to the advice of professionals who might know more than we do about areas of child rearing: teachers, pastors, counselors, therapists, our own parents. We read books and magazine articles. We try new things and go through the full process of failure and revision.

We do what we can with the tools we have been given. At the end of the day, we want greatness for the miniature humans entrusted into our care all with the intent of turning them into the closest semblance of a decent and productive adult before releasing them upon an unsuspecting world. We try. We try hard. Unfortunately, the fruits of our labor are rarely evident.

Every now and then, there are rewards. Achievements unlocked. It could be a friend telling you "You're a good dad." Or a teacher telling you "Your kid is amazing." And then there are moments you realize that your kids are turning out to be better than you ever anticipated.

Last Thursday, we were at the grocery store restocking our diminished supply of perishables. In other words, my kids ate all of the fruits and veggies and we needed more. While wandering through the produce section, we procured more bananas, strawberries, tomatoes, carrots, broccoli, and grapes - all of the organic matter I know my kids will eat without prompting or hesitation. Somewhere between the plantains and the melons, Christian shared an observation.

"It's a shame." he said.
"What is?" I asked.
"All of this food. And so much of it is going to go to waste. I mean, there are homeless people who don't have anywhere they could go to get a meal."

After that explanation, Christian spent the next ten minutes detailing how unsold soon-to-expire groceries should go to food banks and homeless shelters and benefit those who need it most. This from a kid who aspires to be a comedian and novelist when he grows up.

Not to be out done, his younger brother demonstrated his own variation of kindness and generosity.

After church Sunday morning, our kids’ ministry director pulled me aside and said she needed to brag on J. Of course, she asked him if she could embarrass him by telling me a story. JJ granted her permission.

She explained how he already knew the activity that they were doing because he had done it before. And it would have been alright if he did it all over again. Instead, he decided to assist other kids that were struggling making their craft. He got up without being asked to do so and started helping the others in his age group. "Here, let me show you how to do it." After telling me how he did such a awesome job, she looked at JJ and asked him if he could do that again during the next service. He smiled big and nodded his head. Of course he would.

Moments like these make the rougher moments of parenthood worth it. It lets me know I am doing something right. But to be honest, I have no idea what that something is. I do not have any sage advice for other floundering parents out there. There is no formula that I can package and sell for other dads to replicate the amazing things my kids do. Realistically, it is a guessing game, not knowing if it works, and hoping for the best. In twenty years, if my kids are still trying to solve the world’s problems and seeking opportunity to help those in need, I will consider my job a smashing success.