I knew a fastidious guy who often commented on the need for proper attire, neatness, cleanliness, and decorum. One day, we were talking about something or other and he started picking his nose. When I made note of that transgression, he said quite simply and without affect, “It’s okay. Mine is different.”
 
I wish I could convey the tone of his voice when he said it. He was matter of fact, the expert, letting me know that I had no need to worry because his was different. Nothing to see here, citizen. Just move along.
 
In the greatest feat of self-control I have ever mastered in my life, I did not laugh, sneer, chuckle, snort or make any comments about his assertion. Perhaps I was floored so completely I couldn’t react at all, but the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.
 
I was thinking about that situation recently as I began contemplating the Ten Days of Awe, beginning this evening with Rosh Hashanah and continuing through Yom Kippur. I’m not the most observant of Jews, but I get fully engaged in the period of introspection, confession and atonement that comprise the High Holidays. And in my more self-aware moments, I am reminded how much I am like my (mostly) fastidious friend.
 
Mine is different, or so I will claim in one way or another. All too frequently, I write myself a permission slip to excuse the things I just did, or the things I know I’ll do again. It’s okay, though, because I’m a good person and I’m not really hurting anyone, or hurting them much, and it’s only fair because they do it, too, and it’s not like they’re apologizing for what they did, which is much worse than what I did, and, anyway, they pretty much deserved it. And I’m a good person, dammit!!!
 
I’m not alone, of course. I am bombarded daily with explanations, excuses, and the total lack of any self-awareness exhibited by people who know they are justified, permitted, forgiven, graced. Perhaps our most human failure is our willingness to forgive ourselves for the things we would not forgive in others, a willingness to assert that a wrong is not wrong if the right people do it. And, of course, it is absolutely true that WE are the right people and THEY are not.  
 
We never add up all the lame excuses, and then the Days of Awe arrive. It’s not a surprise, but the arrival of the holidays brings a sudden awareness that, maybe, Someone with an infallible memory has been tallying up the damage. Perhaps, Someone with a really great sense of right and wrong has noted our willingness to pardon ourselves as if we were the true judge. Even if a person has no faith in a Higher Being, the process of introspection and repentance is truly awe-full.
 
For the past year, much like my friend with the itchy nose, I’ve made too many excuses, too many deflections, too many claims that mine is different.  That probably makes me like everyone else in the universe, but I’m not responsible for all of them, just myself.  And so, I’ll be spending the next ten days hoping for a second chance, or maybe a 67th chance, to get this thing right. Wish me luck.
 
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In a travesty that is repeated every year without fail, the television industry will bestow its Emmy Awards on Sunday without a single acknowledgement of the most deserving performers in the entertainment industry. I’m calling for a boycott of the event until its leaders atone for this transgression.
 
Of course, people who tune in can expect the usual bad jokes and awkward acceptance speeches from this weekend's telecast. We’ll see clips from shows we never got around to streaming and all kinds of virtue signaling from the woke allies in show business, along with the requisite memorials for the stars who departed since Emmy last.
 
Conspicuously absent, though, will be much deserved recognition for the finest actors, choreographers, singers, dancers and other artists of the small screen. When will the Academy bestow its honors on the people who deserve awards the most?
 
Which people? Glad you asked. Here are the new awards they should add immediately to this year's show:

1. Best adaptation of an iconic rock ballad to sell drugs for cholesterol, age spots, or opioid induced constipation.   (Does iTunes take returns?)
   
   
2. Best casting of people who think a Chevy and a Mercedes are the same car. (Omigod, the Cruze has four tires, too???)
   
   
3. Best choreography for people dancing through the park and high-fiving strangers after filling their prescriptions. (Cannabis, we presume?)
   
   
4. Best set design for erectile dysfunction ads, including most creative use of a football and tire swing. (Hmmm…what are they trying to say here?)
   
   
5. Most humiliating performance by an aging idol who gets paired with a cartoon character to sell insurance. (Just to be clear, it’s often more humiliating for the cartoon character than for the aging idol.)
   
   
6. Best dramatic performance by a woman in a furniture store ad who seems to achieve sexual release as she says, “and a free love seat!!!!” (I’ll have what she’s having.)
   
   
7. Most calming explanation of lethal, fatal, and otherwise deadly drug side effects. (Don’t worry, your results may vary.)
   
   
8. Best Abraham Lincoln impersonation for a mattress store. (Seriously, when Abe says his greatest achievement was invention of the box spring, it brings tears to my eyes.)
   
   
9. Best Actor in a commercial where a grandfather has to explain his asthma medicine to his grandchild. (There should also be a Best Supporting Actor award for the kid who has to keep a straight face while gramps whines about his asthma.)
   
   
10. Best portrayal of a woman who is overjoyed that her 80-year-old husband can get it up again. (Sorry, dear, I’ll be out grocery shopping for the next four hours.)

 
These are the performances that deserve the highest accolades of the profession. Anyone can do a good job with a solid script and good direction, but only the truly great can make us lose sleep over their zits. Join our boycott and let’s ensure that they get the credit they deserve.
 
 
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So we dusted off the passports this summer for a trip to Iceland, where tourists outnumber locals by about eight to one and they just held a funeral for the first glacier that melted away in the ongoing heat wave. Thoughts from the journey…

1. If you ever needed proof that we’re all the same: Our guide thinks he pays too much in taxes, spends too much time on his cell phone, has a child who appears to be watching the same YouTube videos as our grandson…and he’s absolutely done with that whole Baby Shark song. 
   
   
2. Most of the time, I enjoy the fact that we can travel anywhere without learning the local language. Of course, there are those moments when someone points at you, makes a comment to her friend, and the two of them laugh uncontrollably. Hmmm. Do I really want to know? 
   
   
3. There is no place in the world where you can escape American and British music from the 1960-90 era. If it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the piano player is covering Billy Joel, with an occasional classic from The Beatles. The Millennium? Never happened. 
   
   
4. For some reason, I think it’s fake when I see an ethnic restaurant in another country, but I’m fine with pizza and Mongolian beef in Chicago. While the Reykjavikians were chowing down on Buffalo wings and hamburgers, I insisted on sampling whale and puffin. Maybe I should have tried the pizza instead.  
   
   
5. Speaking of local foods, pretty much the first thing you learn in Iceland is that they consider their hot dogs to be a national treasure. Seriously. The most famous restaurant in the country is a Reykjavik hot dog stand where Bill Clinton sampled a local wiener in 2004. They brag about their hot dogs the way Katy Perry talks about her bosom, although I suspect Ms. Perry has more reason for pride in this particular competition. 
   ​
   
6. There’s no pressure on men here to have sons to carry on the family name, because they don’t use family names. Children are named for their fathers, so Gunnar’s son is ____ Gunnarson, but that “surname” only lasts one generation. It makes genealogy projects much more complex, but the continual flow of renaming has an egalitarian charm. 
   
   
7. We wore jackets when the temperature was in the 55-60 range, but some of the locals were wearing sleeveless shirts as they basked in their summer heat wave. I should really be careful the next time I call someone else a weather wimp. 
   
   
8. Every culture has its historical touchpoints. In Chicago, it’s the fire. In San Francisco, it’s the earthquake. In the Westman Islands, it’s the 1627 invasion of Algerian pirates (The “Turkish Raid”). Don’t try to joke about it. Nerves are still raw here.
   

 
Speaking of broader horizons, we’d love to hear your pearls of wisdom about this whole travel thing. Share your comments with us and we’ll all be more sophisticated and worldly as a result.
 
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Not that I’m really needy and whiny and crave the attention of tiny young people who are blissfully unaware of all my flaws, but it’s worth noting that today is Grandparents Day across the United States.
 
While parents double-dip with Mother’s Day in May and Father’s Day in June and then Parents’ Day in July, there’s only one day in the year for Grandparents, and it must be shared by both Gramps and Grammy. (Actually, I think I saw a National GILF day during my research, but this is a family blog and we’re not going there.)
 
Being a grandparent is one of the great joys in life, because it combines all the fun of having children with zero responsibility. Take them to the zoo, gorge them on cotton candy, buy them a puppy and then drop them off when they get cranky. If mom objects, remind her of that video with her singing on the toilet while she pooped.
 
(Disclaimer: I am supposed to note here that I do not actually have any videos of my daughters singing while they pooped. I do, however, have several that are even better.)
 
As grandparents go, I would describe myself as ridiculously greedy. I love spending time with the children and I make sure to file my requisition forms at least once a week. And why not? There are a ton of things that make grandchildren far, far superior to all other forms of people:

1. Baggage. They don’t bring any. Kids show up ready to play, to learn, and to have fun. They don’t walk in with a sneer or a pout or a question about why you didn’t do something you didn’t know you were supposed to do or something you knew and forgot about, or whatever. This alone makes them superhuman.
2. Curiosity. They’re interested in everything. They have questions about everything. And when you answer those questions, they actually pay attention. You know that story about the kids who get a million toys for their birthdays and then end up playing with the boxes? That’s because they’re curious about everything. They haven’t narrowed their vision like adults, which is why there is nothing more refreshing than seeing the world the way your grandchildren see it.
3. Real-time Development. The most amazing thing I have ever seen is a baby’s brain developing in real time. We were sitting for one of our granddaughters and she had just learned to sit on her own, although she would still tip over from time to time. One day, she reached for a ball while sitting, nearly toppled over, righted herself and began staring at the ball. She wobbled back and forth, working to regain and then retain her balance, until she was able to reach the ball without falling over. Miraculously, I got to witness it as she advanced in thought, physical dexterity, experimentation and hand-eye coordination. Encountering the children each week is like watching a time-lapse series of photos. Last week he put two words together, today he combined a noun, verb and object, and a week after that he’s arguing about his bedtime. Incredible.
4. Two-arm hugs. Adults are always hugging with just one arm, often while we’re balancing our phone or a cup of coffee, or both, with our free hand. When your grandkids hug you, it’s a real hug with both arms, and you hug them back like you never want to let go.
5. Smarts. Babies boot up from zero on the day they’re born, and they’re much smarter than they’ll ever be as adults. It’s not obvious because they don’t have language skills, yet, but trust me on this one. Their capacity for learning new things, connecting the dots, figuring out how to manipulate both objects and parents…it’s truly impressive. They see it all, absorb it all, and they’ll remember a stunning amount of stuff from a time when they literally could not put things into words.  
6. Joy. Grandkids remind us what joy used to look like, before there were bills and appointments and internet trolls and the daily grind of life. If we’re lucky, they’ll take us along on the journey into living now, having fun, thinking of new things, enjoying a storybook for the tenth time in an hour, mastering a new skill, looking out the window… They can have fun with everything as they remind us that we once did the same, and that we could do it all over again if we choose to do so.
7. Immortality. Well, not really, but grandchildren connect us to a future beyond ourselves and beyond our own children, a future we can help shape for the better by setting the right examples and building the right kind of relationships with our newest descendants. We’ll visit this topic again in one of the winter posts, because it is a truly transformative connection.
8. Admiration. Every so often, you get an easy win, and grandkids are happy to oblige. No matter what else happened in your day, your week, or your life, they think you’re smart and funny and they want to spend time with you. Granted, they’re comparing you against a small sample, but a win is a win. 

 
It’s important to reciprocate, of course. As a grandfather, I want my grandchildren to know there is always a person who is happy to see them, happy to play with them, happy to teach, happy to listen, and always, always, rooting for them. That’s not a tough investment on my part, and the returns are huge.
 
I know there will come a time when they're too cool for me, too engaged with their friends or their start-up businesses or their viral videos or whatever. Right now, though, we're still in the magic zone and it's time for me to fill out my requisition forms for next week’s visits.
 
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All of us at Dadwrites are about to begin a national movement. It’s a movement that will gladden the hearts of all Americans and heal the wounds of our universe. 
 
This is the one common goal left to humanity in the internet age. We are divided irrevocably on pretty much everything, but we finally have a cause to unite us and restore our faith in each other. We must rise up in an unrelenting and ultimately victorious campaign to move Labor Day to October.
 
As it stands, Labor Day is a depressing holiday, a last three-day weekend to mark the end of summer. Everyone slumps in their lawn chairs and talks about getting back to work while they complain that the fireworks were better on Independence Day. When it’s time for all the guests to leave, nobody talks about their plans for the week ahead, because everyone is planning to be in the office on Tuesday morning.
 
Alas, what began as a celebration of the labor union movement has deteriorated into a celebration of Mondays. Yep, we get this one off, but then we’re working every Monday until MLK Day 21 weeks from now. But Labor Day can be much happier, and more apt, if we make the logical choice to move it back a month. The reasons are compelling and, dare we say, irrefutable.
 
First, the equinox won’t come until September 23, this year, fully three weeks after we bury the season with a holiday marking the “official end of summer.” Insanity!!! Summer is a gift to treasure, not a curse to be canceled. Much like our participation trophies, regrets, grudges, and sixteen, we should hold onto summer as long we can.
 
Second, the weather is going to stay summery well into October in most of the country, because that’s how weather works.  Temperatures will still be warm, humidity levels will drop from their August peaks, and mosquito swarms will finally subside. We won’t notice it, though, because we all went back to work four weeks too early. What are we, nuts??
 
The sad reality is that September barbecues are never as relaxing or enjoyable as the same gatherings before Labor Day. Something is missing, and the missing ingredient is summer. We bury our best season prematurely at the start of September and then we just go through the motions. So sad.
 
But when we move Labor Day to October, we can finally return the holiday to its rightful role as a celebration of working stiffs, the people who build the buildings and plant the plants and assemble the assemblies. We can transform Labor Day into an upbeat extension of summer, rather than its forced execution. “Yeah, the days are shorter now that it’s officially fall, but we have about two weeks left until Labor Day,” we’d say, and we would be happier as a result.
 
When should the new Labor Day occur? We humbly propose the first Friday in October, which is the perfect date for a national holiday. Slotting Labor Day on a Friday will preserve the tradition of three-day weekends while dulling the sting of returning to work a few days later. At long last, people will have a real justification for all those TGIF memes.
 
Admit it. This is such a great idea that you’re already wondering two things:
 

1. Why didn’t I think of it?
2. How do I take credit for thinking of it?

 
We understand how you feel. The brainstorming team at Dadwrites is very proud of itself for this earthshaking idea and we are fine with sharing the credit with all the fans who inspire us to be creative geniuses. Or genii. Or whatever.
 
Enjoy your holiday and take heart. By this time next year, we will have achieved our goal and we will all be looking forward to another month of summer weekends.
 
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