Happy Beams Day! Hoping you are having the most special holiday ever.

What? You’ve never heard of Beams Day? Maybe that’s because we just created it, and it’s the holiday we’ve all been waiting to celebrate togeth…uh, celebrate. Anyway, you’ll love it, just like all the other holidays we’ve added to the calendar to brighten your years.

Okay, so here’s the deal. Inspired by one of my favorite passages from the New Testament, Beams Day celebrates the moment we become aware of the giant two-by-four sticking out of our skulls, rather than picking endlessly at the pimples on our neighbors’ noses. (Not very sanitary, btw.) Jesus said motes and beams, or some Aramaic version of those words, but I think pimples are funnier and this is my blog, not his.

Anyway, I was torn at first about whether to call this Beams Day or Motes Day, since the New Testament mentions both, but it ended up being an easy decision. Looking around the world, both online and IRL, it appears that every day is Motes Day, and it’s only fair that beams get their own acknowledgement.

And it turned out to be really easy to find the exact right spot on the calendar for Beams Day, which is observed on the first Monday of November in every even-numbered year. By a remarkable and unplanned bit of timing that nobody could have foreseen, this is also the day before Election Day in the United States.

It’s a really lucky, and did I mention unplanned, coincidence that Beams Day comes before our elections. Based on all the ads we’ve been unable to avoid over the past eternity, this holiday is seriously overdue.

As always, the guy who voted against funding for the police department is complaining about crime and the woman who voted against cheaper insulin is complaining about the cost of drugs. I think there were two or three ads this year from people who wanted to tell us why we should vote FOR them, but those folks are dopes. The real money is in demonizing our opponents, and doing it so much that theirs is the only name voters can remember when they vote. I have no idea who I want to vote for in my area, but I absolutely recognize the satanic beasts they are running against.

Fortunately, today is the day when we don’t say a single word about any of our neighbors’ failings and only pay attention to our own.  This is the day when we look deep inside and recognize our own limits and those of our own tribe. On this very special holiday, which we just made up, we avoid the hypocrisy of castigating kettles.

From all of us at the Dad Writes Holiday R&D Lab, have a simply fabulous Beams Day. Hurry, though. Motes Day returns at midnight and it will be a lot like the purge.

If people actually switched targets for their vitriol for just one day, would all the algorithms on social media have a nervous breakdown? Hmmm…worth a shot, right after you click here to subscribe.
 

The clock is ticking down and I’m not nearly far enough into the conversation.

Yom Kippur arrives tonight, culminating our ten-day ritual of celebration, introspection, and pleading, literally, for a new lease on life. The home stretch that begins at sundown includes all the stages of grief, plus fasting and a dozen hours of religious services.

At sundown tomorrow, according to tradition, we either are or aren’t sealed in the Book of Life for the coming year. Jews aren’t big on predestination, but this is an exception. As the earth spins into darkness tomorrow, the pressure will become palpable, notwithstanding any doubts I might hold about a literal “Book of Life.”

While the Ten Days of Awe are filled with rituals and prayers handed down across centuries, I tend to look at the process as a conversation with God. I’ve never seen prayer as a plea for a swag bag, but more as a discussion between me and whatever particle of God is always living inside me, waiting for me to shut up so that It can be heard. And when the Days of Awe begin, our conversation always starts with a rebuke. I open with the hope for another year and the still, small voice asks why.

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean “why.” I gave you a reprieve last year and how did you use that gift?”

“Ummmmm…”

And the trap is sprung. A year ago, I apologized for my failings and asked for another chance, and I know now that I received that opportunity. But as soon as the holidays were over, life returned to normal and I’m sitting in services this year, pretty much apologizing for the same things I atoned for in 2021. And 2020. And 2019. And…you get the idea. In the conversation that matters most, at least according to our tradition, I really don’t have much to say.

If I had to boil it all down, my answer would be, “not enough.” I didn’t feel enough, smile enough, help enough, share enough, celebrate enough, comfort enough, laugh enough, savor the gift of life enough.

Or, maybe, my answer should be, “too much.” I worried too much, complained too much, hid too much, disconnected too much, insulated myself too much, and ignored the wonders before me too much. I received a gift one year ago and I barely opened the package.

That’s the most painful part of atonement to me. It’s not about all the scripture or liturgy. It’s the recognition of how much I lost, how much I simply gave up of the gift I was given. How terrible would it be I receive another year of opportunity and I squander it the same way I squandered so much in the year that’s now closed? I couldn't possibly achieve 100% of the potential for the year ahead, but I can absolutely bump up my performance if I get another turn at bat.

The conversation has continued over the past week, both within the synagogue and while walking on my way, incorporating all the aspects of values and life, people and possessions, and the greatest of gifts: time.

It’s both draining and invigorating, and it ends tomorrow night when the final shofar blast confirms that THE BOOK has been published and only one Being knows what’s in it.

The clock is ticking.
 
 
 
 

So ya know what’s wrong with America today?

Okay, other than that.

And that.

And that other thing.

Hmm... Okay, I'll start over.

We don’t have enough celebrations in this country. Yeah, we have millions of holidays and observances and more mattress sales than you can count, but we don’t have any celebrations we can all share as one unified nation. You know, the kind of things the Founding Fathers loved, like barn raisings and burning witches.

Everything’s embroiled in politics now, so you can’t really celebrate anything with all your friends; only with the friends who agree with you about almost everything. And then they’ll spoil the whole party by ragging non-stop about the benighted souls who fell off the invitation list.

Nope, we need real celebrations where everyone’s on the same page, no politics allowed, and our team of party animals at Dad Writes has come up with the perfect list to bring joyful unity back to the United States. Mark your calendars and invite your friends as we cancel our Zoom calls and revel in the unbridled bliss of…

Rotgut Recycling: Somewhere in the back of the bar is a bottle, maybe two, that we will never, ever touch in our lives, until Rotgut Recycling Day on September 8. Maybe dad left some Slivovitz behind when he croaked, or some friend brought a bottle of Malort home from Chicago as a gag gift. Doesn’t matter. We’ll be competing for hair-on-your-chest cred on the 9th, if we all survive.

Freezer Burn Bakeoff. As long as we’re tempting fate, we’ll all dig into the back of the freezer on September 12 to pull out that thing that we don’t really recognize anymore…and eat it. It might be grandma’s lasagna or Uncle Sal’s chili, or something even worse, but we’re all going to have some fun stories to tell our friends on the 13th. If we all survive.

Coffee Cup Clearance: We’re almost certain to survive this one, or so we hope. On October 1, we’ll be grabbing all those coffee cups we don’t use…the World’s Best Lover and Flirtiest Mom and Ed’s Septic Service and Gina’s Getaway Lodge….and we’ll be donating them to charity.  Finally, a cleaning project that’s tax deductible for all those $3,200 “limited edition” items.

Curio Collector’s Capitulation Day: It’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, but mom said to hold on to it because it was a collector’s item and it would be really valuable someday. Well, it will be hugely valuable on October 15 when we finally give that porcelain figurine of Princess Di and Elvis the heave-ho. Of course, we’ll donate these babies to charity, as well, and take the full deduction of $25,000, just to show faith in mom’s forecast.

Tattered T-Shirt Toss. A special celebration for women only, we reserve November 4 as the date you get to throw out that ratty, smelly, stupid looking T-shirt that he still thinks has three more years to go. As a special bonus, feel free to dispose of that godawful sweater he insists on wearing to holiday parties. Truly, you’ll be doing him a favor and, in states that allow it, burning is encouraged.

Traced Turkey Transfer: Yes, we’ll all be arguing about politics on Thanksgiving, but older parents everywhere will take unbridled joy in the new tradition of bestowing, um, priceless gifts on their children. Before any adult children are allowed to have dinner, parents will complete transfer all the “turkeys” the kids drew by tracing their hands, the paper mache pumpkins, and other piece of claptrap from their childhoods. It won’t be much of a celebration for the kids, of course, but their parents’ happiness will more than compensate.

But wait, there’s more. While all of America is busily celebrating our new days of joy, our crack team of social directors is cooking up even more ways to celebrate in orgasmic synchronicity. Coming next…Computer Cable Macrame, D Battery Demolition, Dust Bunny Bacchanalia, and, for all the hip social media types, the National Grease Trap Challenge. Seriously, you’re going to love it.

Sadly, you’ll miss out on all our new celebrations and lead a sad, miserable, hopeless, desperate existence if you fail to click here to subscribe to Dad Writes.
 
 
 
 
 

So now that everyone is working from home and Friday is pajama day, what do kids buy instead of ties for Father’s Day? So many mysteries to being a dad, including…

1. You can’t be afraid in front of your kids. You can tell them that you get scared sometimes, which is actually healthy, but you cannot be frightened in the moment. Whatever is going on, you have to hold it together until it’s over.
   
   
2. No matter how good a dad you are, there will come a time in your kids’ lives when the smartest, coolest, funniest, bravest, handsomest guy in the world is…someone else's father. Anybody else’s father. Everybody else’s father.
   
   
3. Dad reassured my sister by saying, “I’m always on your side.” We can’t always agree with our kids or support each of their choices, but at least they can know that we’re looking out for them as best we can.  
   
   
4. There are a million things we know as adults that we cannot tell our kids, hurts and harms that we cannot prepare them for without making them fearful and distrustful. The best we can do is be there to offer comfort after the fact and assure them they can handle it.
   
   
5. No matter how hard the kids stomp on your nerves, you can’t blame them when you lose it. Yeah, it’s an impossible demand, but too bad. That’s the job.
   
   
6. Your kids are like your doorbell camera, always on and always monitoring the situation. Whether you intend to or not, you’re making memories for them right now.
   
   
7. The only real way to judge your own performance as a dad is to watch how your own kids act when they become parents. It’s too late then, of course, but at least you’ll know. (Hint: if they’re willing to leave you alone with their kids, you probably weren’t the worst dad in the world. Or else they’re really desperate for a babysitter.)
   
   
8. Every so often, I think about writing a letter to my kids, apologizing for the many ways I let them down over the years. The only thing that stops me is the hope that they have forgotten some of it and I’d only be opening old wounds.

 
Being a dad is the best job I’ve ever had, and the most rewarding, even if I had no clue what I was doing most of the time.  I think the kids knew this, or at least suspected, but they let me off the hook and I appreciate it a ton.
 
Now that you know all you need to know about being a dad, just click here to show your thanks by subscribing to Dad Writes.
 

We know why you’re in a panic right now, with pulses pounding and flesh clammying as the clock counts down to H-Day. Last year, we showed you how to transform your quarantine into the best Halloween you’ve ever had, but now the little monsters are coming back and you’re afraid that all is lost.
 
Oh, ye of little faith. Did you really think we would leave you to be devoured by the demon children of the candy corn? Did you really worry that you might have to give up your secret stash of Heath bars while your own offspring stumble back home with bags of popcorn balls?
 
Never!
 
Not only have we developed the perfect strategies for maximizing your returns this year, we’ve even disguised our wisdom to make you look like good parents and good people. Get ready for a typhoon of treats and all the virtue signaling you can handle after you teach your kids…
 
Honor your Mother and Father. Start with the basics by reminding Junior and Little Missy that they owe you for the roof over their heads, the food they eat, even life itself. Foraging for full-size Hershey bars for mom is really the least that they can do after all your heartache and sacrifice. And the labor pains. Be sure to mention the labor pains.
 
Be prepared. Santa makes a list and checks it twice, and Chad and Buffy should do the same. If they forget whether dad wants the Almond Joy (which has nuts) or Mounds (which don’t), they really don’t deserve to go to college, do they?
 
Thrift is a virtue. That costume from 2019 is still in prime condition, even if Baby Barney has grown a foot since then. Yes, he’ll be uncomfortable for a few hours, but he’ll learn a lifelong lesson about saving money for more important needs—like paying for his own damned college.
 
Recycling can save the planet. It’s important to recycle, especially when it comes to candy corn and Mary Janes. Make sure Timmy and Tammy save the planet by coming home every half hour with whatever they’ve collected. After mom separates out the keepers, all the dreck can go back into her candy bowl to be recycled to the next little goblins who come to the door. Planet Saved!!
 
Rules aren’t just for the little tykes, though. It’s equally important that parents model their own best practices to achieve maximum bragging rights. Mom and dad can signal their virtues all day long by following these critical protocols:
 
Children must be independent. Even if your children are too young to walk the mean streets at night, they must approach donor doors on their own. Yes, dad can spot the one Snickers bar in a bowl full of wax lips before little Amy finishes saying “or treat,” but this is a task Amy must complete on her own. If she is well trained, she’ll grab the Snickers. If she brings home wax lips, you are a failure as a parent.  
 
Be Protective. Trick or Treating is great fun for the kids, but we all know the candy they bring home isn’t really good for them. It’s critical that parents protect their children from the sugar highs, insulin lows, cavities and flab that result from too much candy. The best of the best parents take care to selflessly ingest an extra share of the booty in order to protect their progeny from overindulgence. So brave.  
 
Create a Thanksgiving Masterpiece. No matter how much we love our Halloween haul, we’ll still have leftover sweets in mid-November. Make the best of it by melting down the remnants to create a tantalizing new confection for your Thanksgiving hosts. Be humble, though, when it comes to taking credit for your masterpiece. Between now and then, be sure to go to a fancy bakery in your neighborhood and steal a carry-out bag with their name on it.
 
Finally, show your kids the importance of sharing by setting aside a pile of Heath, Hershey and PayDay bars for their grandparents. After intense research at Dad Writes, we’ve determined that feeding gramps and granny is the best way to ensure family unity and successful parenting. 
 
After gorging for a few days on Halloween candy, nothing hits the spot like the latest insights from the crackerjack goobers at Dad Writes. Subscribe now and you’ll never miss out on the incredible wisdom only this site provides.