I’ve had an ongoing elbow/tendon problem for years. Regular curls could aggravate it, so I started experimenting with isometric curls—holding the weight stationary under tension rather than repeatedly moving the joint. The improvement has been remarkable. The elbow that had bothered me on and off for years has become substantially better.

I’ve had a similar experience with my knees. Wall squats allow me to absolutely hammer my quadriceps without the knee irritation I sometimes get from conventional squatting. More recently, I added isometric split squats—just 30-second holds—and was amazed by how much muscular work I got from something so simple.

There is some fascinating science behind this. Professor Keith Baar at UC Davis is a molecular exercise physiologist whose laboratory studies how muscles, tendons, and ligaments respond to exercise, loading, and nutrition. His research suggests that connective tissue doesn’t necessarily benefit from endless training volume. Tendons and ligaments can become relatively unresponsive to additional loading after a surprisingly short period, which is one reason his work has emphasized relatively brief, targeted loading sessions.

Baar has also discussed low-intensity, longer-duration isometric holds, including lunges and squat-type positions. The idea is remarkably simple: put the tendon and surrounding musculature under controlled tension for a period of time without repeatedly moving the joint.

I don’t think isometrics are magic, and the scientific literature doesn’t establish that they’re universally superior to every other form of tendon rehabilitation. But my personal results have been hard to ignore. Wall squats for my knees, split-squat holds for my legs, and isometric curls for my troublesome elbow have allowed me to train hard with far less joint irritation.

At this point, isometrics aren’t rehab exercises that I plan to discard once something stops hurting. They’ve earned a permanent place in my training. Sometimes the simplest exercise imaginable—get into position, create tension, and don’t move—turns out to be remarkably effective.

It sounds exciting but it was dreadfully boring working in classified areas for the DoD, department of defense. Mostly paper pushing work I could have done without an engineer degree, but I digress.

During my time there I worked with an amazing engineer named Dave Myers. He was sharp and always showed up at work dressed like an assassin. A former Air Force pilot, he retired and worked in my area. Always early, he wore conservative suits, ties and well shined shoes.

I, on the other hand took pride in my sloppy casual dress. Tennis shoes, sloppy jeans and flannel shirts. Dave gave me a book about dressing for success but I paid little attention.

One day I was called into a meeting where the vice president and other higher ups attended. I felt embarrassed as I looked like I didn’t belong since everyone was dressed professionally. Instead of realizing my error and having some humility, I doubled down on my disfunction and dressed even worse.

Now nearly retired, I realized there are certain truths about life and society one ignores to their own peril.

I deeply regret the fact the I could have been so much more but I shied away from responsibility. I told myself it was all bullshite but the reality was I was afraid of responsibility, afraid of leading. I was pusillanimous, small souled.

I was actually a child in a man’s body but I had an amazing ability to deceive myself. I was above politics and the corporate grind. I eventually quit and started a landscape company for a year and failed at that. Eventually I got back into engineering and software development after wasting my 20’s with self deceptive lies.

So men, here is the truth. When you’re well dressed you signal certain qualities such as:

• You care enough to make an effort

• You take the event seriously

• You take yourself seriously

• You belong in this place

• You respect tradition

• You respect the event

• You respect your guests

• You respect yourself

What I was signaling was the opposite. Quite honestly I was a prideful adolescent who didn’t take myself or anyone else seriously. I was slothful and exhibited my vices like they were virtues.

They are some videos on YouTube where men dress like the the gangsters from Peaky Blinders and walk around the city streets or malls. The reactions are priceless. Immediate respect, women swooning at the sight of these well dressed men.

Today the standards are so low, a tailored pair of jeans and well shined shoes make you stand out from the sweatpanted proletariat.

Men take yourselves seriously. Grow up and accept responsibility and dress like you care. A nice watch, shined shoes, tailored clothing at a minimum.

The first thing women notice is your shoes. Notice how people treat you when you dress well. Walk onto a plane and watch the difference. Notice how people in meetings take your advice. Notice how your wife isn’t embarrassed to be seen with you. Your wife will notice that other women check you out with hungry eyes as they glance at their slovenly husband with the adolescent t- shirt and ketchup stains.

Learn from my mistakes men, I made alot of them, but you don’t have to.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading too much Varg Freeborn, Tim Larkin, Gavin de Becker, Michael Novak, and Aquinas lately, but I keep coming back to the same place. These guys come from completely different worlds. One survived an unbelievably violent childhood. One teaches self-defense. One spent years studying violent criminals. One was a Catholic philosopher, and Aquinas...well...he’s Aquinas.

Oddly enough, they all seem to be wrestling with the same basic question.

What kind of man should we become?

I think the modern church has mostly unsatisfying answers for me and men in general. I don’t know if this is true but I have read that on average, the average congregation (Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox) is over 60% women. Dr. Leon Podles address this in his excellent book, “Losing the Good Portion”

He makes a good case that the modern Church is feminized and generally attracts touchy, feely emotional people. Look at modern praise and worship music, its filled with “Jesus is my boyfriend” lyrics. I prefer heavy metal, Gregorian Chant and other forms of music that makes we want to storm the castle. I can’t imagine the Crusaders listening to our modern music before engaging in battles in which they certainly might lose their life.

I digress, the question, “What kind of man should we become” has been on my mind for another reason. At almost 67 years old, I spend a fair amount of time exercising. Pull-ups, kettlebells, running, walking, trying not to hurt myself...the usual old guy stuff. I joke with friends that I’m no longer training to look good at the beach. That ship sailed decades ago. These days my goals are pretty simple. Stay healthy. Stay mobile. Keep enough strength to help my wife if she ever needs me. Be able to get up off the floor without sounding like a bowl of Rice Krispies. Carry luggage through an airport. Enjoy hiking when we travel. Play with my 4 year old grandson, for example, thats a wonderful goal.

But there’s another reason that probably doesn’t get talked about very much.

If I really believe what I wrote in Part 1—that Christians sometimes have a duty to defend innocent people—then don’t I also have some responsibility to remain physically capable of doing that?

Now before anyone gets excited, no, I’m not suggesting every Christian needs to become a Navy SEAL, earn a black belt, or carry a pistol everywhere he goes. That’s not where I’m headed.

What I am asking is much simpler.

Suppose a man never uses violence.

Does that automatically make him virtuous?

Or is it possible he simply isn’t capable?

Are we talking prudence or cowardice? I think if we all do some soul searching, we tend towards cowardice far more often. As I remember the “golden mean” in this case, is a bit more towards foolhardiness.

It occurred to me the other day that I don’t get much credit for “choosing” not to dunk a basketball. At my age and with these knees, that isn’t restraint. It’s reality. Nobody congratulates me for my tremendous self-control because I haven’t entered the Tour de France this year either.

Maybe violence works the same way.

If I physically cannot protect my wife, my family, or even a complete stranger from evil, am I really exercising Christian restraint or do I simply have no other choice because I have the body of a marshmallow and the grit of a catfish?

Violence Found Me First

People occasionally ask me why I read so much about violence, criminal behavior, and self-defense. The answer is actually pretty simple. I didn’t go looking for violence. Violence found me first.

Growing up around Philadelphia wasn’t exactly Mayberry. I had a gun pointed at my face as a teenager. On another occasion I was knocked unconscious with a steel fence post. Like a lot of young guys, I got into a few fights that probably could have been avoided. I was not a tough guy, and I certainly always avoided confrontation, but looking back, I was fortunate things didn’t turn out worse. I also remember getting chased by a gang in a rough section of a city in New Jersey. We jumped into my friends Datsun B-210 and drove through the group of angry black men trying to yank us our of the car, kicking the doors, and smashing the windows. We just barely made it without a beating. What was the crime? We parked in a cheap area where white kids were not supposed to be.

Those experiences didn’t make me obsessed with violence. If anything, they made me curious.

Why do predators choose certain victims? Can violence be recognized before it happens? Can it be avoided? If it can’t be avoided, what then? Mostly these violent encounters made me feel less than. I did not have the tools, temperament, or even desire to protect myself. That was not healthy or appropriate.

Over the past twenty years or so I’ve wandered down a lot of rabbit trails trying to answer those questions. I’ve trained in close quarters combat, Taekwondo, practical self-defense, Jeet Kune Do under an instructor who trained with Paul Vunak, and attended Tony Blauer’s SPEAR System courses. Somewhere along the way I discovered writers like Tim Larkin, Gavin de Becker, Varg Freeborn, Michael Novak, and eventually found myself right back where every Catholic eventually ends up...reading Aquinas.

I’m certainly no expert. In fact, the older I get, the less interested I become in fighting. Ironically, the more I’ve learned about violence, the less attractive it has become. What all those years have taught me is that violence doesn’t look much like Hollywood. It is usually sudden, ugly, unfair, and over very quickly.

The Gift of Fear

One author that really changed how I think about personal safety is Gavin de Becker in The Gift of Fear.

His basic idea is incredibly simple. Your intuition is often smarter than your intellect.

We’ve all experienced it. You meet someone and something just feels off. Maybe they’re standing too close. Maybe they won’t take no for an answer. Maybe they’re asking questions that don’t seem quite right. You can’t explain it, but your internal alarm starts going off.

How many times have we ignored that feeling because we didn’t want to appear rude?

De Becker argues that intuition is really pattern recognition. Your brain is processing dozens of tiny clues that never quite make it into conscious thought. Then your logical brain talks you out of it because you don’t want to judge someone unfairly.

Usually that’s fine.

Sometimes it gets people killed.

As Christians we certainly shouldn’t become cynical or suspicious of everyone we meet. Charity demands better than that.

But prudence is a virtue too.

If something feels wrong, perhaps we should stop apologizing for listening to that little voice God gave us.

Fear Isn’t the Enemy

That reminds me of another instructor I learned a great deal from, Tony Blauer.

One of Blauer’s central ideas is that fear itself isn’t weakness.

Fear is information.

Your body recognizes danger before your conscious mind catches up. Instead of pretending fear doesn’t exist, Blauer teaches people to understand it and channel it into action.

That struck me because modern culture often tells men two opposite lies. One says real men are fearless, the other says fear means something is wrong with you.

Neither is true.

Fear is part of being human, the question is what we do with it.

That sounds remarkably close to what Aquinas calls fortitude. Courage isn’t the absence of fear. Courage is doing what is right despite fear.

The Difference Between Violence and Evil

Tim Larkin helped me understand something I had never really considered before.

Not all violence is the same.

He distinguishes between social aggression and predatory violence.

Most of our lives are spent dealing with social aggression. Arguments. Insults. Road rage. Office politics. Social media. Somebody trying to prove they’re the alpha male.

Predatory violence is something entirely different.

The predator isn’t trying to win an argument.

He wants your wallet.

Your daughter.

Your life.

Those are completely different situations requiring completely different responses.

That may seem obvious, but I don’t think our culture—or sometimes even our churches—does a very good job making that distinction.

Varg Freeborn and the Wolf

Then I discovered Varg Freeborn.

Varg writes from a perspective few of us can fully appreciate. His childhood was saturated with criminal violence. He understands predators because he grew up around them. One thing I appreciate about Varg is that he doesn’t glorify violence. Quite the opposite.

His message is that violence exists whether we choose to think about it or not. Predators don’t disappear because decent people refuse to acknowledge them.

Oddly enough, that’s also the worldview of Scripture. The Bible isn’t naïve about human nature.

• Cain murders Abel in Genesis.

• David fights wars.

• The Psalms cry out for justice.

• Christ Himself warns His followers about wolves.

• Scripture assumes evil exists.

• The question isn’t whether wolves exist, the question is whether the sheep recognize them.

Have We Forgotten Fortitude?

This is where I wonder if modern Christianity has become a little lopsided.

My father attended North Catholic High School in Philadelphia back in the early 1950s. He used to tell stories about the priests and brothers that would probably horrify people today. Whether every story became a little bigger over the years I couldn’t tell you, but one thing was obvious. Those men expected boys to become men. Courage, discipline, sacrifice, responsibility, and toughness were part of the vocabulary.

Today the language often sounds very different. We talk about feelings, dialogue, affirmation, self-esteem, and avoiding conflict. Dare I use the Synodality word? I shouldn’t because no one can seem to define it, but I digress. Again, none of those things are bad in themselves. Christ was compassionate beyond anything we can imagine.

But I sometimes wonder if we’ve unintentionally stopped talking about fortitude, the Church has always recognized fortitude as one of the four cardinal virtues. Yet I honestly can’t remember the last homily I heard challenging men to become physically, mentally, and spiritually stronger—not so they could dominate other people, but so they could protect them.

Those are two very different things.

Aquinas Had the Answer Centuries Ago

This is where I think Aquinas quietly solves the whole problem. He wasn’t interested in producing violent men. Neither was he interested in producing harmless men. He was interested in producing virtuous men.

1. Prudence.

2. Justice.

3. Temperance.

4. Fortitude.

Those four virtues govern everything else.

Looking back, it’s funny how these very different authors all seem to point toward the same conclusion.

• Gavin de Becker tells us to pay attention when something feels wrong.

• Tony Blauer teaches that fear is information.

• Tim Larkin distinguishes criminal violence from social conflict.

• Varg Freeborn reminds us predators think differently than decent people.

• Michael Novak warns us not to assume moral symmetry.

• And Aquinas says all of those capacities must ultimately be governed by virtue.

They’re all describing different parts of the same elephant.

The Goal Isn’t Violence

The older I get, the less interested I become in proving anything. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to intimidate anyone. I don’t want to spend my life looking over my shoulder. I simply want to remain capable:

• Capable of helping my wife.

• Capable of helping a stranger.

• Capable of protecting someone if God ever places me in that awful situation.

• Hopefully that day never comes.

I pray it never does. But pretending evil doesn’t exist won’t make it disappear. Maybe that’s where we’ve gone wrong. The goal of Christianity isn’t to produce dangerous men., it isn’t to produce harmless men either, it’s to produce righteous men.

• Men with prudence to recognize danger.

• Men with fortitude to confront it when necessary.

• Men with justice to protect the innocent.

• Men with temperance to know when enough force is enough.

In other words, men who possess strength but govern it with wisdom. To me, that’s not only good psychology, that’s not only good self-defense, that’s Christianity.

Forgiveness Is Not Surrender

Part 1: Can Christians Ever Use Violence?

This past Sunday our parochial vicar was preaching on the readings, one of which included Jeremiah saying:

“O Lord of Hosts, let me witness the vengeance You take on them.”

The homily was good and touched on many of the themes we hear frequently in church: peace, dialogue, loving our enemies, turning the other cheek, avoiding judgment, and extending mercy to others. None of those are bad things. In fact, most of us probably need more of them in our lives.

Still, as I sat there listening, I found myself wrestling with a question that has been nagging at me for some time now.

Why do we hear so much about loving our enemies, but almost nothing about defending the innocent?

I don’t mean defending my ego because somebody insulted me online. I mean actual evil. A man breaking into your home at two in the morning. A woman being assaulted in a parking lot. Someone threatening your wife, your child, or some helpless stranger.

Maybe I’m being unfair, but modern Christianity often seems uncomfortable discussing violence in any context. We hear a lot about forgiveness, patience, sacrifice, and mercy. We hear much less about courage, protection, duty, and the moral obligation to confront evil. The result can be a kind of lopsided Christianity where kindness is emphasized but strength is viewed with suspicion.

The older I get, the more I wonder if we have confused forgiveness with surrender.

Violence Never Solves Anything... Except When It Does

One of the most common slogans in our culture is that violence never solves anything.

It sounds wise. It sounds compassionate. It sounds civilized.

The problem is that it isn’t true.

Violence helped end Hitler’s regime. Violence stopped the Islamic State from conquering more territory. Violence ends active shooter situations. Violence has stopped rapists, murderers, kidnappers, and home invaders throughout human history.

Now before anyone accuses me of glorifying violence, let me be clear. Most violence is evil. Most violence creates suffering, destroys families, leaves trauma in its wake, and often creates entirely new problems. But saying violence never solves anything is simply false. Sometimes it solves very serious problems. The real question is not whether violence works. The real question is when it is morally justified.

Part of the reason this interests me is because violence is not merely theoretical to me. When I was younger I was held at gunpoint. On another occasion I was knocked unconscious with a steel fence post. In addition when I walked to school in Philly as a young boy, I was hassled quite often and it wasn’t much fun. I’m not claiming some special expertise because of those experiences, but they do change how you look at the world. Evil is no longer something that exists only in history books or action movies. Sometimes it shows up unexpectedly and demands an immediate response.

Defining Violence

One of the most helpful distinctions I’ve encountered comes from Tim Larkin.

Larkin points out that people use the word violence so broadly that it becomes almost meaningless. An argument between neighbors, a heated political debate, a bar fight, and a man attempting to murder a child all get lumped together under the same label.

They shouldn’t.

Larkin distinguishes between social aggression and predatory violence.

Social aggression includes insults, intimidation, arguments, posturing, and all the little status games human beings play. Most of us encounter some version of this throughout our lives.

Predatory violence is something entirely different. It occurs when someone intends to rape, murder, abduct, or seriously injure another person. At that point you are no longer dealing with a disagreement. You are dealing with evil action.

His famous observation is that violence is rarely the answer, but when it is, it is the only answer.

That may sound harsh, but imagine a man holding a knife to your wife’s throat. Imagine someone attempting to abduct your child. Imagine a terrorist entering a church with a rifle. At that point the problem is no longer a lack of dialogue. The problem is that an innocent life is in immediate danger.

The question becomes how to stop the aggressor.

Dante and the Classification of Violence

This discussion reminded me of Dante’s Inferno. I read the book “How Dante can save you life” by Rod Dreher. I also took a 2 semester class on Dante a couple years ago. It was wonderful. When most people think of Dante they think of Hell, demons, punishments, and all the strange imagery. What struck me when I revisited it is that Dante did not simply throw all violent people into the same bucket.

The Seventh Circle is reserved for violence, but even there he makes distinctions. There are those violent against others, those violent against themselves, and those violent against God and the created order.

Whatever else Dante was doing, he clearly did not believe all violence was morally equivalent.

That struck me because modern discussions often treat violence as a single category. A murderer, a police officer stopping an active shooter, a father defending his daughter, and a nation repelling an invasion are all said to be engaging in violence. Technically that may be true, but it doesn’t tell us very much.

Dante, Augustine, Aquinas, and most of the Christian tradition were interested in distinctions. The question wasn’t simply whether force was used. The question was who used it, why they used it, and whether it served justice or evil.

That seems like a much more useful way to think about the subject and these distinctions are where the Catholic Clergy and many Protestant pastors miss the mark. They give men platitudes and not sound advice.

The Problem of Moral Asymmetry

This is where Michael Novak’s idea of moral asymmetry becomes useful. Many modern discussions assume that all sides in a conflict are morally equivalent. Everyone simply needs more understanding, more dialogue, and more empathy. Sometimes that is true. Many disputes are misunderstandings between decent people.

But not all conflicts are like that.

History repeatedly demonstrates that some individuals and some regimes are genuinely evil. Hitler was not misunderstood. The Islamic State was not misunderstood. A serial rapist is not misunderstood. A man attempting to murder your family is not misunderstood. The problem with moral symmetry is that it assumes everyone wants peace.

Some people do not.

Some people want domination.

Some people want conquest.

Some people want victims.

Recognizing that reality is not hatred. It is simply realism.

The Old Testament Problem

At this point things become uncomfortable.

Many Christians speak as though violence is fundamentally incompatible with God’s character. Yet when we open the Old Testament we encounter something far more complicated.

The Psalms contain prayers for God’s judgment. The prophets frequently announce divine punishment. Israel wages wars under God’s command. Entire nations are judged.

One example appears in Deuteronomy:

“When the Lord your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction.”

These passages raise difficult theological questions that Christians have debated for centuries. I’m not attempting to solve those questions here.

My point is simpler. The God of Scripture is not a pacifist.

The same God who commands mercy also judges evil. The same God who loves also punishes. The same God who forgives also wages war against wickedness.

That reality should make us cautious about reducing Christianity to a handful of modern slogans.

But What About Jesus?

This is usually where the conversation turns.

Didn’t Jesus tell us to love our enemies?

Of course He did.

Didn’t He tell us to turn the other cheek?

Yes.

Didn’t He tell Peter to put away his sword?

Again, yes.

These are not minor passages. They are central to Christian discipleship.

The question is whether they eliminate every legitimate use of force.

If they do, then several problems immediately appear.

Why does St. Paul tell us in Romans 13 that the governing authorities do not bear the sword in vain?

Why did the Church develop Just War theory?

Why did Christians eventually conclude that self-defense could be morally legitimate?

Why did theologians such as Augustine and Aquinas spend so much time discussing when force may be justified rather than simply declaring all force immoral?

These questions deserve serious consideration.

What Aquinas Actually Says

One thing I appreciate about Aquinas is that he rarely settles for slogans. He asks difficult questions and makes careful distinctions.

When discussing self-defense, Aquinas argues that preserving innocent life is a natural good. A person may defend himself against an unjust aggressor, provided his intention is protection rather than revenge.

That distinction is crucial. The Christian tradition condemns vengeance. It does not condemn protection, as those are not the same thing.

Aquinas understood that a husband defending his wife from an attacker is morally different from a man hunting down someone who insulted him. One act seeks justice and protection. The other seeks retaliation.

Modern discussions often blur those categories together. Aquinas does not.

In fact, Aquinas provides a framework that allows Christians to reject both pacifism and brutality at the same time.

Defending the Innocent

What strikes me most about these discussions is how often the victim disappears.

We spend enormous amounts of time discussing the aggressor. His motives. His background. His suffering. His circumstances. All of that may matter. But what about the innocent person standing in front of him? What obligations do we have toward the weak? Toward children? Toward spouses? Toward the elderly? Toward the stranger being victimized?

A friend that has a self-defense business likes to say, “When seconds count, the police are only minutes away.” I have found that to be true. Don’t think someone is around the corner to rescue you or your family from an assault, because they aren’t.

At the moment evil arrives, the responsibility often falls on ordinary people. Fathers. Mothers. Husbands. Wives. Neighbors. Parishioners. Citizens. Think of the poor lady on the train in NYC, Daniel Penny, a former marine had the courage to help her and paid a large price for it. Although he was found innocent, the system likes to punish the courageous.

The Christian tradition has generally recognized that defending innocent life is not merely permissible. Under some circumstances it may become a duty. That seems important. Because if we focus exclusively on loving the aggressor while neglecting the victim, we have not actually become more compassionate. We have simply shifted our compassion in the wrong direction.

Forgiveness Is Not Surrender

I don’t pretend to have every answer here.

These are complicated questions, and thoughtful Christians have disagreed about them for centuries.

But the older I get, the less convinced I am that Christianity requires passivity.

Christ commands forgiveness.

He commands mercy.

He commands us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

I believe all of that.

What I don’t believe is that those commands require surrendering innocent people to evil. A father can forgive the man who attacks his child and still stop him. A husband can pray for the salvation of an intruder and still defend his wife. A nation can seek peace and still resist invasion. Forgiveness is a Christian duty. Surrender is not.

In Part 2, I want to explore another question that follows naturally from this one. Is a harmless man actually virtuous, or merely incapable? That question leads into the work of Varg Freeborn, Tim Larkin, courage, preparedness, and what the Christian tradition means when it speaks about virtue.

There were plenty of women available but as the old saying goes, “The odds were good and the goods were odd”. I certainly did not truly love my first wife and that was clearly unfair to her and also myself, but I felt pressured to marry a “Godly” woman and everyone was getting married. I don’t blame anyone but myself. I succumbed to the peer pressure in many ways and it changed the course of my life.

It was evident from the honeymoon on, that I had made a terrible miscalculation and being infected with the “Nice Guy” syndrome and the newly acquired guilt of fundamentalist Christianity, I was stuck between a rock and a hard spot.

She was and is a fine woman, capable, educated, refined and intelligent and the mother of my two children, however we were a terrible match. Divorce was an unforgiveable sin and I could not even go there mentally, so I opted for counseling. Besides we had two wonderful children that I deeply loved, so I was going to suck it up and stay married and not punish the kids for my folly. Perhaps that was unfair to all parties.

Modern Counseling

I won’t go into every detail, but looking back, most of the counseling we received was totally shite. It was the same therapeutic script everyone gets now: communicate more, share every feeling, verbalize every fear, expose every insecurity, be “fully transparent.” The assumption underneath all of it was that the more emotionally naked you become, the healthier the relationship becomes.

I no longer believe that is true.

As I’ve gotten older — much older — and hopefully a little wiser, I’ve come to think modern counseling often misunderstands men completely. A lot of it treats masculine restraint as pathology. Stoicism becomes “avoidance.” Emotional control becomes “suppression.” Silence becomes “lack of vulnerability.” Everything is interpreted through a therapeutic lens where the highest good is emotional disclosure.

But men are not improved by endless self-analysis. Most men are improved by responsibility, purpose, competence, brotherhood, discipline, faith, and meaningful struggle.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love women. My wife and I have been married almost twenty years now and she is one of the best things that ever happened to me. She’s intelligent, refined, capable, beautiful, and loyal beyond words. I trust her completely. But she is not a man, and expecting men and women to process stress, fear, and burden in exactly the same way is one of the great modern mistakes.

That’s where modern relationship advice quietly falls apart.

There’s a strange modern dogma that says intimacy means complete emotional transparency at all times. Say every fear out loud. Narrate every insecurity. Turn your marriage into a rolling therapy session. If work stresses you out, unload it. If you feel uncertain, verbalize it immediately. If life feels overwhelming, process it externally in real time. In reality this tells men to be femininized.

Modern culture calls this emotional maturity. In practice, a lot of it simply creates instability, anxiety, and quiet erosion of respect.

When a man constantly complains to his wife about work, life, stress, office politics, or how overwhelmed he feels, what she often hears beneath the words is something deeper: “Life is too much for me.” Even if she loves him deeply, that creates tension and insecurity inside the relationship. Human beings naturally look for steadiness in the person leading the family through chaos. Deep down, people want to know the ship still has a captain during the storm.

That doesn’t mean men should become cold robots or emotionally unavailable caricatures. It means they need discernment.

Wisdom from the Ancients

The older traditions — Greek philosophy, Christianity, even the practical masculine wisdom passed from fathers to sons — understood something modern culture has largely forgotten: self-mastery matters.

Aristotle did not teach men to become emotionally numb. He taught discipline, prudence, courage, and ordered passions. The Stoics didn’t believe in emotional repression either, contrary to internet caricatures. They believed a man should govern himself before attempting to govern a household.

Christianity sharpened this idea even further. A husband is called toward sacrificial leadership, endurance, steadiness, and fortitude under suffering. Not theatrical fragility. Not emotional chaos disguised as authenticity.

Christ carried the Cross without denial of suffering, but also without self-pity.

That distinction matters.

Memories from High School

I still remember a scene from my youth that shaped how I think about all of this.

I was in 10th grade, outside playing basketball in the driveway when my father pulled in. My dad was a very capable man — the first in his family to go to college. Undergraduate degree, graduate degree, MBA. Tough as nails. He dragged our family out of lower-class Philadelphia neighborhoods through sheer force of will and sacrifice. Even though he was educated and worked white-collar jobs, deep down he was still a street guy from Philly who knew how to handle himself. My friends were intimidated by him. Honestly, so was I.

But that day was different.

He got out of the car and I could tell immediately something was wrong. He stumbled slightly walking up the driveway. He was drunk. Defeated. Lost. Later I learned he had been fired from his job as a plant manager.

I had never seen my father look weak before and it genuinely shook me. But what really stayed with me over the years was my mother’s reaction. She was terrified. Angry. Panicked. Completely overwhelmed by fear about the future.

That moment burned itself into my memory because my father eventually recovered. He found another job. Things stabilized. Life moved on. But for a brief moment, the foundation cracked and everyone in the family felt it.

It was like watching an undefeated heavyweight suddenly get knocked unconscious. Even if he gets back up later, something changes psychologically for everyone watching. I think of Tyson losing to Buster Douglas.

Now to be clear, my father’s reaction was human and understandable. I’m not condemning him for it. Life hits hard sometimes. Men break. Men struggle. But looking back on it now, I think there is wisdom in regrouping before bringing raw panic into the home. Have a drink with the boys. Go clear your head. Pray. Sit in silence. Talk to older men. Process the shock first.

Because your wife and children are looking to you for stability when the storm hits.

That is part of the burden of being a man.

Where Men Should Carry Their Burdens

This doesn’t mean lying. It doesn’t mean emotional isolation. It means hierarchy and discernment.

Some burdens belong in prayer. Some belong in the gym. Some belong in silence before God. Some belong in conversations with trusted male friends, mentors, priests, fathers, and brothers who can strengthen you without encouraging self-indulgence.

For centuries men had structures that forged resilience: churches, guilds, neighborhoods, military units, work crews, fathers, camps, communities. Today many men have none of that. So every fear, frustration, insecurity, and anxiety gets redirected into the marriage itself.

That is too much weight for one relationship to carry.

My friend calls it “Mount Rushmore” — a handful of solid men you trust enough to call when life punches you in the mouth.

That’s probably healthier than turning your wife into your full-time therapist.

One thing I’ve noticed after talking to divorced men for years, and honestly after going through one myself, is that many men completely misunderstand why respect disappears in a relationship. They think the issue is masculinity itself. They think maybe they were “too controlling,” too opinionated, too strong, too traditional, too whatever.

But when you really start pulling the thing apart, very often the opposite is true. The real issue is weakness disguised as goodness. Passive men. Approval-seeking men. Men terrified of conflict. Men who slowly hand over every principle, boundary, friendship, hobby, standard, and piece of self-respect because they think permanent accommodation is what love is supposed to look like.

Then they wake up one day shocked that nobody respects them anymore.

Robert Glover talked about this years ago in No More Mr. Nice Guy, and honestly I think he was describing an entire generation of modern men. The covert contract. “If I sacrifice enough, if I suppress my needs, if I never upset anyone, if I become endlessly agreeable, then surely I will be loved, appreciated, desired, respected.” But covert contracts are manipulative by nature because the other person never agreed to the arrangement.

The Nice Guy thinks he’s being virtuous, but under the surface there’s usually resentment building for years. Eventually it leaks out in bitterness, passive aggression, depression, porn addiction, emotional affairs, rage, or that sentence every divorced guy has heard come out of his own mouth at some point: “After everything I did for her…”

The brutal reality is this: people rarely respect desperate accommodation. They may exploit it. They may temporarily benefit from it. But they usually do not deeply respect it.

Jordan Peterson says something that made a lot of men uncomfortable because it was true. Weak men are not good men. A harmless man is not a virtuous man. If you are incapable of confrontation, incapable of saying no, incapable of standing your ground, incapable of controlled aggression, then your morality is mostly theoretical. You’re not peaceful because you mastered aggression. You’re peaceful because you fear consequences. You are a coward.

And this is where Aquinas becomes weirdly relevant to modern masculinity. Aquinas understood virtue as ordered strength. Not passivity. Not emotional softness. Not endless accommodation. Virtue sits between extremes. Courage is between cowardice and recklessness. Discipline is between chaos and rigidity. Masculinity itself has ordered and disordered forms. A man can become tyrannical and brutish, obviously, but he can also become soft, dependent, vain, slothful, effeminate in the classical sense — not feminine, but unable to endure hardship or discomfort.

That one hits modern men hard because so many men now cannot endure discomfort at all. They cannot tolerate disapproval. They cannot tolerate female anger. They cannot tolerate silence, loneliness, uncertainty, criticism, rejection, or being misunderstood for five minutes without collapsing into anxiety and over-explaining themselves. So they negotiate constantly for emotional safety. They apologize when they didn’t do anything wrong. They explain every decision like they’re standing before a tribunal. They ask permission for basic acts of autonomy. They tolerate disrespect because they think boundaries are somehow “unloving.”

Then later they wonder why attraction died.

Will Knowland talks about this constantly with boys and young men. We no longer teach controlled masculinity. We teach suppression. We teach boys that competitiveness is dangerous, aggression is toxic, hierarchy is evil, stoicism is oppressive, and male ambition is suspicious unless approved by the managerial class. So you end up with men who are physically grown but psychologically anxious, passive, approval-seeking, and disconnected from purpose. Men who are terrified to lead their own lives because they’ve been taught that every assertion of masculine authority is somehow morally suspect.

Then society acts shocked when these same men drift into depression, pornography, resentment, addiction, escapism, or complete purposelessness.

The irony is that truly masculine men are usually more restrained, not less. A man with class does not emotionally vomit on everyone around him. He doesn’t drunk text his ex-wife at midnight. He doesn’t constantly seek validation online. He doesn’t gossip endlessly about private family matters for sympathy points. He doesn’t lose emotional control every time life wounds him. He absorbs pressure. He stays measured. He develops standards. He develops competence. He builds a life outside female approval.

Ironically, that is often the beginning of restored respect. I noticed this in my ex wife. I don’t grovel anymore, I don’t care what she thinks about me or my choices. Its obvious she has far more respect for me, because I respect myself.

One thing divorced men especially need to understand is that desperation destroys dignity fast. Chasing someone who clearly does not respect you rarely restores attraction. Begging for understanding usually lowers perceived value further. Constant emotional explaining almost never helps. Weakness invites management. Strength invites respect. Not cruelty. Not domination. Not fake “alpha male” nonsense. Just grounded masculine stability. Calmness. Competence. Self-control.

Honestly, a lot of men would improve their lives dramatically by stopping a few behaviors immediately:

• over-explaining

• apologizing reflexively

• emotional dumping

• arguing for validation

• tolerating repeated disrespect

• abandoning male friendships

• abandoning fitness

• abandoning purpose

• abandoning faith

• making women the emotional center of existence

• confusing passivity with virtue.

Because the truth is, virtue is not weakness. Aquinas never taught weakness. Christianity properly understood never taught weakness either. A man should be capable of force but governed by morality. Capable of leadership but restrained by humility. Capable of aggression but disciplined enough to control it.

That balance is extremely rare now.

Which is probably why people instantly recognize it when they encounter it.

One thing I’ve learned getting older is that you absolutely can still get stronger at 66, but you cannot train like an idiot anymore. Your body keeps receipts. I spent most of my life thinking the answer was always more intensity, more suffering, more volume, more grinding close to failure. And honestly, that mentality works for a long time… until suddenly it doesn’t.

Then the weird little injuries start showing up. Trap strains. Sternum irritation from pull-ups. Rib tweaks from something you don’t even remember doing. Elbows getting cranky. That strange CNS burnout feeling where a workout that would have been “moderate” twenty years ago now wipes you out for two days. The funny thing is I was still getting stronger while all this was happening. That’s what finally forced me to rethink things.

So I simplified everything. I realized no matter how much creatine I take, how much protein I eat, how many supplements I take, my body responds age appropriately. Lifting heavy weights was not working anymore. I had to accept my limitations. I also have an autoimmune disease, cranky knee’s from biking many thousands of miles in the rocky mountains and injuries from high school football and years of taekwondo and other martial arts.

I started listening to my body. Less is more. What exercises could I do without pain and injury. What modalities work at my age, how much volume. I had to give up the dream I could get back to benching nearly 400 and squatting almost 500. That was never going to happen again. What I could do is work within my limitations and get a bit of humility. So after trial and error, working with ChatGPT to refine my workout, use my Fitbit sleep score, recovery score and other metrics I arrived at this workout which has helped my knee’s, my dead butt syndrome and more importantly, lose 10 pounds of fat while nearing my goals of 50 clean pushups and 15 clean pullups.

My current workout is basically this:

Monday / Wednesday / Friday

• Wall squats

• Single-leg glute bridges

• Glute marches

• Pull-ups on rings

• Push-ups on bars

• Hammer curls

• Suitcase carries

Then on the off days I walk a lot, usually 10,000–15,000 steps, sometimes bike rides, sometimes jog/walk intervals. Nothing fancy. No circus tricks. No pretending I’m preparing for the NFL combine. I still train hard, but I rarely train recklessly now. Most sets stay around RPE (Rate of Perceived Exertion) 6–8. I leave reps in the tank. I stop before form degrades and before joints start complaining.

That part was psychologically hard for me because I grew up with the mentality that if you weren’t destroyed afterward, the workout “didn’t count.” Now I think the opposite may actually be true. If your joints hurt for four days, your sleep gets wrecked, and your nervous system feels fried, maybe the workout was just stupid. I’ve become a huge believer in grease-the-groove style training: frequent clean reps, practicing movements, staying explosive, avoiding grinders, accumulating volume without constantly redlining the engine.

I’ve also learned the importance of deloads. When I was younger, taking a week off felt like weakness. Now I think it’s one of the smartest things older athletes can do. Usually the warning signs show up first: declining motivation, strange little aches, poor recovery, sleep getting worse, workouts feeling heavy for no reason, elevated fatigue. I pay attention to that stuff now instead of trying to “push through it” like an idiot.

Oddly enough, my Fitbit has become one of the most useful fitness tools I own. I pay attention to sleep score, resting heart rate, and readiness now. If my sleep score tanks and readiness is low, I know my body is telling me something before an injury happens. Twenty years ago I ignored all feedback except whether I could still force the reps. That’s probably not a great long-term strategy.

And honestly, walking may be the most underrated fitness tool in existence. I notice something strange: when I completely stop moving, I actually feel worse. More stiffness, more aches, lower energy. But when I consistently get 10,000 to 15,000 steps, things loosen up. My back feels better. My hips feel better. Recovery improves. Sleep improves. Even fat loss becomes easier. Movement heals me more than sitting around “recovering.”

At 25, fitness is usually about proving something. At 66, it becomes more about preserving capability. Can you still do pull-ups? Carry heavy things? Ride your bike for hours? Get off the floor easily? Stay reasonably lean? Avoid medications? Recover quickly? That’s really the game now. Not ego lifting. Not crawling out of the gym half dead. The real flex is still being strong, capable, and uninjured ten years from now.

I hope you find some encouragement from this. I built a cheap home gym with pushup and dip bars, rings handing in my garage, dumbbells, kettlebells, bands and and some additional items for around $500.

Deus Vult.

I had collected many “friends” from my old Church of Christ days and from various employment gigs that seemed to crowd out my free time.

I told myself that was being “Christian”, my time was not my own, it was God’s so I freely gave it. The problem was, it crowded out my time with my wife and children, and not in a good way.

As I was reading “Wildmen, Warriors and Kings, it occurred to me this mapped quite well to Aristotle’s taxonomy of friendships. Most men don’t lack friends.

They lack the right kind of friends.

We live in a world saturated with connection—contacts, coworkers, gym partners, group chats—but almost none of it actually forms us. And that’s the problem.

Two thousand years ago, Aristotle laid out a framework in Nicomachean Ethics that still cuts straight through the noise. He said there are three kinds of friendship: utility, pleasure, and virtue.

What he didn’t say—but what becomes obvious—is that these map almost perfectly onto the stages of masculine development: Wildman, Warrior, and King.

---

The Wildman: Friendship of Utility

At the lowest level, friendship is about usefulness.

You help me. I help you.

We stay connected as long as the transaction works.

This is the world of networking, business relationships, and quiet, unspoken exchanges of advantage. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it—but it’s thin. Fragile. Disposable.

This is Wildman energy: instinctive, self-interested, not yet ordered toward anything higher.

A man stuck here doesn’t build relationships.

He uses them.

---

The Warrior: Friendship of Pleasure

Step up a level, and friendship becomes about enjoyment.

You like the same things. You train together. You grab drinks, watch games, tell stories. There’s real loyalty here—shared experience, even a kind of brotherhood.

But it’s still conditional.

When the environment changes—the gym, the job, the city—the friendship often fades with it.

This is Warrior energy: bonded, loyal, but still driven by action and emotion rather than purpose.

Most men live here and mistake it for depth.

It isn’t.

---

The King: Friendship of Virtue

At the highest level, friendship is built on something far more demanding: mutual commitment to the good.

You don’t just enjoy each other.

You want what is best for each other.

You tell the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. You hold each other accountable. You sharpen one another—not casually, but deliberately.

This is King energy: ordered, grounded, responsible.

These friendships are rare because they require something rare:

men who are serious about becoming better.

And once formed, they don’t drift. They endure.

---

The Ascent Most Men Never Make

Seen this way, Aristotle wasn’t just describing friendship—he was describing a path:

- The Wildman asks: What can you do for me?

- The Warrior says: I enjoy being with you.

- The King commits: Let’s become better men together.

Most men move between the first two without ever reaching the third.

They have contacts.

They have buddies.

But they don’t have men in their lives who actually form them.

---

The Cost of Shallow Friendship

When life is easy, this doesn’t matter much.

But when pressure comes—failure, temptation, suffering—utility disappears and pleasure scatters. What’s left is whatever was built on something deeper.

If nothing was, then a man stands alone.

---

A Better Standard

If you want a different life, start here:

Look at your circle and ask—honestly—

- Who challenges me?

- Who tells me the truth?

- Who actually wants me to become better?

And then the harder question:

- For whom am I that man?

Because virtue friendships aren’t found.

They’re built—and they’re built by men willing to rise above convenience and comfort.

---

If your friendships are only built on convenience or enjoyment, they will disappear when life gets hard.

Only friendships built on virtue survive—and only those friendships make you better.

That thought hit me after reading Father Bruce Wren’s excellent piece on Christian militancy—I’ve linked it below.

Fending off the Dragon Fire

Is There Such a Thing as Christian Militancy?

Considering contemporary events, our title’s question seems timely. An easy answer to the question would be something like: “Of course. Do you not know that for centuries the Church has divided herself into three categories: The Church Triumphant (in heaven), the Church Suffering (in Purgatory), and the Church Militant (on earth…

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5 months ago · 8 likes · 3 comments · Fr Bruce Wren

It forced me to think more seriously about what our faith actually demands of men.

Then I pulled an old book off my shelf: Wildmen, Warriors, and Kings by Patrick Arnold, published in 1991—over three decades ago. It’s a deep dive into biblical spirituality as it applies specifically to men, with a foreword by Robert Bly.

And reading it again, it became clear: this isn’t a new problem.

We’ve been drifting toward passivity for a long time.

With current events coming at us like machine gun fire—Iran tensions, high-level resignations, airport chaos, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops pushing policies many of us struggle to reconcile—and on and on—I find myself asking, as a Catholic man who takes his faith seriously: how exactly am I supposed to live?

Not in theory. Practically.

What does the provider/protector role actually look like right now? My bishop isn’t posting armed security at Mass. So what is my responsibility? If some unstable person walks into church with a weapon, what do I do? Pretend it won’t happen? It happens far more than we like to admit.

Can I support this current conflict? What is the right response? We’ve been in a standoff with Iran since the 1970s. Diplomacy has not exactly produced peace. Is it Christian to support decisive action against a hostile regime? Or are we expected to default to passivity and call it virtue? Do we simply pray and outsource everything to God while ignoring the reality in front of us?

And it’s not just geopolitics—it’s everyday life.

A man got aggressive with my wife in the supermarket. What is the right response in that moment? De-escalate? Step in? At what point does restraint become failure?

My daughter was punched and had her books knocked out of her hands. Do I tell her to “turn the other cheek”? Or do I teach her that there is a line where you stand your ground?

These aren’t abstract questions. They are real, immediate, and unavoidable.

And then I hear statements from Church leadership suggesting that believing problems can be resolved through war is “absurd.” Pope Leo XIV warned that “God cannot be enlisted by darkness,” criticizing those who justify “choices of death.”

Of course that’s true—at a high level. But Christianity has never been that simplistic.

The Church herself developed just war doctrine precisely because reality is complicated. There are times when force is not only permitted, but necessary to restrain evil. I’m not claiming this current conflict meets those criteria—but I am saying this: when leaders speak in sweeping generalities without nuance, they leave serious men without guidance where clarity is needed most.

Details matter. Precision matters. Especially when the stakes are life and death.

These questions stay with me. Maybe because I’ve experienced violence firsthand. Maybe because I know, at some level, that the world is not as safe or as orderly as we pretend it is.

And as I began reading Arnold again, I realized something important: he doesn’t hand you a checklist for every situation.

What he does is more fundamental.

He forces you to confront a harder question—how do you avoid becoming a passive spectator in your own life as a man?

Because that, more than anything, is the real danger.

So let’s take some of his core ideas and work through them.

Masculine Archetypes

Arnold draws on Jungian archetypes and maps them onto Scripture in a way that is both unsettling and clarifying. He identifies three recurring masculine patterns: the Wild Man, the Warrior, and the King. These are not personality types you pick like items off a menu. They are modes of being—roles a man must learn to enter and exit depending on the moment.

Wild Man

The Wild Man is the untamed part of a man. He is not “civilized,” and that is precisely the point. He is the part of you that refuses to be neutered by comfort or fear. He is John the Baptist in the wilderness. He is Elijah calling down fire. The Wild Man disrupts, confronts, and refuses to play along with lies. But left unchecked, he becomes chaos—rage without direction, strength without purpose.

Warrior

The Warrior is ordered strength. He is disciplined, focused, and willing to act. The Warrior understands that evil is not theoretical. It shows up in grocery stores, in schools, in your own neighborhood. And when it does, someone has to step forward. The Warrior does not ask permission to protect what is his responsibility. But without restraint, he becomes harsh, domineering, even destructive.

King

The King is integration. He governs himself first, then orders the world around him rightly. He provides, protects, and establishes peace—but it is a peace secured by strength, not by avoidance. The King blesses, but he also judges. He builds, but he also defends what he has built.

Arnold’s insight—and this is where it cuts—is that modern men are being trained to embody none of these. We are told to be agreeable, soft, non-threatening. In other words, safe… and ultimately irrelevant.

Moving Between the Archetypes

A mature man doesn’t camp out in one archetype. He moves between them.

There are moments for the Wild Man—when something false must be called out, when cowardice is masquerading as virtue, when you feel yourself shrinking to keep the peace. That instinct to say, “No, this is wrong”—that’s not toxic. That’s necessary.

There are moments for the Warrior—when action is required, not discussion. If a threat presents itself to your wife, your child, or your parish, that is not the time to workshop your feelings or quote vague platitudes about peace. That is the moment the Warrior steps forward—calm, controlled, decisive.

And there are moments for the King—when your family looks to you for stability, when you must make hard decisions without drama, when you create order where there is confusion. The King doesn’t flinch. He carries weight.

The failure mode of modern masculinity is not that men are too aggressive. It’s that they’ve been trained to hesitate. To outsource responsibility. To spiritualize inaction.

Christianity Was Never Passive

This is where the modern narrative collapses.

The idea that Christianity calls men to be passive, conflict-avoidant, and effectively harmless is not historic Christianity. It is a recent, domesticated version of the faith—one that would have baffled most of our forebears.

The Church has always described herself as the Church Militant. Not the Church Mild. Not the Church Harmless. Militant.

Look at Bernard of Clairvaux. He didn’t apologize for the existence of men who could pray deeply and fight when necessary. He helped articulate the vision of the Knights Templar—the so-called warrior monks—men who took vows and still bore the sword in defense of Christendom.

Were they perfect? Of course not. No human institution is. But the instinct behind them—that a man can be both deeply spiritual and physically formidable—is undeniably Christian.

Contrast that with what we are often handed today: a thin, sentimental Christianity that seems embarrassed by strength. A version of the faith where “being nice” has replaced virtue, and where any hint of masculine aggression is treated as a moral defect rather than something to be disciplined and directed.

We have somehow arrived at a place where a man defending his family is viewed with more suspicion than a man who refuses to.

The Lie of Doormat Christianity

Let’s be blunt: much of what passes for “Christian masculinity” today looks less like the Gospels and more like passivity with a Bible verse attached.

Men are told to “turn the other cheek” as if that means surrendering their duty to protect. To “be humble” as if that means never asserting authority. To “trust God” as if that means doing nothing while problems escalate.

That is not humility. That is abdication.

A man who refuses to act when action is required is not virtuous—he is unreliable.

A man who cannot protect is not peaceful—he is simply harmless.

And harmless men do not build families, do not defend communities, and do not carry the weight that reality inevitably places on them.

Arnold’s framework exposes this clearly. Reject the Wild Man, and you become timid. Reject the Warrior, and you become passive. Reject the King, and you become irresponsible.

We have entire generations of men being quietly pushed into all three failures at once.

A More Complete Masculinity

The call is not to become reckless, aggressive, or domineering. The call is to become capable.

To cultivate the Wild Man so you are not easily controlled, shamed, or silenced.

To discipline the Warrior so that when a moment of conflict arises—and it will—you are not frozen.

To grow into the King so that your presence brings order, stability, and strength to those around you.

This is not about cosplay masculinity or chest-thumping bravado. It is about readiness.

Because the truth is, life will eventually put you in a position where something must be defended. A line must be held. A decision must be made under pressure.

And in that moment, no one is looking for a man who is merely “nice.”

They are looking for a man who can act.

A man who knows when to be fierce and when to be gentle.

A man who understands that faith is not an excuse to withdraw from the world—but a mandate to engage it, fully and courageously.

Because passivity is not holiness.

It never was.

Another thing I’ve learned is that the central nervous system is real, and it has a vote. You can’t just hammer it every day and expect to bounce back like you’re 25. Long bike rides into brutal headwinds, heavy workouts, bad sleep, stress at work—they all pull from the same recovery account. Overdraft it too often and the body lets you know. So now I think in terms of recovery as part of training, not something that happens after it.

I’ve also learned that a few simple things matter more than a cabinet full of supplements. Good sleep. Enough protein. Hydration. Walking a lot. A couple basics that actually help. The fancy stuff mostly just lightens your wallet. The boring stuff works.

Then there’s the posture and injury side of things. In my case, learning to keep my back neutral, doing things like the McKenzie exercises, and not letting ego drive the workout has been huge. At this age, the real flex isn’t how hard you can go—it’s how long you can keep going without breaking yourself.

And maybe the biggest lesson: fitness in your 60s is less about chasing some imaginary peak and more about building durable strength for the long haul. Strong legs. A resilient back. The ability to walk miles, ride a bike, knock out pull-ups, and still feel good the next day. The goal isn’t to prove something to the gym—it’s to keep your body capable for the life you want to live.

Turns out the secret isn’t heroic workouts. It’s patience, consistency, and a little humility. Funny how long it takes to learn that.

When I was in my 20’s I converted to Protestantism. I didn’t really even understand what Protestantism was, I just attended Bible Studies and was taught the Catholic Church was wrong, it was a works based salvation and the true gospel was clear in the Bible. The Church had quickly gone off the rails and fell into idolatry, witchcraft and all manner of evil.

Martin Luther, of course, was a hero, restoring the truth that had been lost for some 1500 years. Christ died in my stead, satisfying the debut God was owed. I later learned this was a later understanding of why Christ had to die. This is known as the penal substitution theory. I later learned there were many “theories” about the atonement. Each theory of atonement has implications on the character of God.

In fact, at the center of Christianity stands a single question: What did Christ accomplish through His death and resurrection?

Christians have always proclaimed that through Jesus Christ humanity is saved, forgiven, and restored to God. Yet throughout Christian history, different explanations—called theories of the atonement—have been offered to explain how Christ accomplishes this salvation.

The word atonement refers to the reconciliation between God and humanity made possible through Christ. But theologians have used different frameworks to explain what happens at the cross.

Some explanations focus on law and punishment, others on honor and satisfaction, and still others on healing, liberation, and victory over death.

The earliest Christians, particularly the Church Fathers, tended to describe salvation not primarily in legal terms but as Christ defeating the powers of sin, death, and the devil, restoring humanity to life with God.

This article surveys the major theories of the atonement, moving historically from later Western interpretations toward the earlier and more hopeful framework known as Christus Victor.

Moral Influence Theory

One of the earliest alternative interpretations of the atonement was articulated by the medieval theologian Peter Abelard (1079–1142).

According to this view, the primary purpose of Christ’s death is to demonstrate God’s love so powerfully that human hearts are transformed. The key idea here is that Christ’s sacrifice inspires repentance and love. There idea’s can be seen in the following scripture references:

• John 15:13 – “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”

• Romans 5:8 – “God demonstrates his love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

• 1 John 4:10 – “This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son.”

While this view emphasizes God’s love and should encourage repentance and transformation, it does not full explain the seriousness of sin and the defeat of death and the devil by Christ’s crucifixion.

Satisfaction Theory

Christ Restores the Honor of God

This theory was developed by Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109) in his famous work Cur Deus Homo (“Why God Became Man”).

Anselm argued that human sin dishonors God. Because God’s honor is infinite, humanity cannot repay the debt. Therefore, Christ—both God and man—offers a perfect act of obedience that restores God’s honor. The idea here is that Christ satisfies the debt humanity owes God. This can be seen in verses such as:

• Philippians 2:8 – “He humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross.”

• Romans 5:19 – “Through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.”

This theory emphasizes Christ’s obedience and explains the necessity of the incarnation. Critics note that this framework reflects medieval feudal concepts of honor and debt, which may not fully capture the biblical story of salvation.

Penal Substitution

Christ Takes the Punishment We Deserve

This theory became prominent during the Protestant Reformation, especially among Reformers such as Martin Luther and John Calvin. Penal substitution teaches that:

• Humanity deserves punishment for sin.

• God’s justice demands punishment.

• Christ receives the punishment instead of us.

The idea with this theory, likely if you are an evangelical or another strain of Protestantism you understand this, is that Christ is punished in place of sinners.

Scriptural Passages Often Cited

• Isaiah 53:5 – “He was pierced for our transgressions… the punishment that brought us peace was on him.”

• 2 Corinthians 5:21 – “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us.”

• Galatians 3:13 – “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.”

This theory takes sin seriously and emphasized forgiveness and justification, however while many Christians find comfort in this view, critics argue that it can unintentionally produce guilt-centered spirituality. One of the things I noticed as a fundamentalist, was a pervasive sense of guilt and self monitoring of every thought, word and deed. If salvation is framed primarily as God punishing Jesus instead of us, several emotional consequences can arise:

1. Perpetual guilt – Believers may feel they are responsible for Christ’s suffering.

2. Fear-based faith – The emphasis shifts toward avoiding punishment.

3. Legalistic spirituality – Christianity becomes centered on rule-keeping.

Some critics also note that this model can make the Father appear wrathful toward the Son, raising theological questions about the unity of the Trinity. For these reasons, many theologians suggest that while substitutionary language exists in Scripture, penal substitution alone may not capture the full gospel message.

Now lets discuss the reason for this article. As a Protestant my first instinct to understand something was reach for a Bible, a commentary, a thesaurus, look at various translations and so forth. Now as a Catholic, the first place I look in the early Church and specifically what did the early church fathers have to say? I find it interesting that before being Catholic, I didn’t even know early church fathers existed. So lets look at what they thought about the atonement.

Ransom Theory

Christ Frees Humanity from Captivity

One of the earliest Christian explanations of the cross was the idea that Christ’s death was a ransom paid to free humanity from slavery to sin and death.

Scriptural Basis

• Mark 10:45 – “The Son of Man came… to give his life as a ransom for many.”

• Colossians 1:13 – “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness.”

• Hebrews 2:14 – Christ destroys “the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil.”

Early Church Voices

Irenaeus (130–202)

“The Lord redeemed us through his own blood and gave his life as a ransom.”

Origen (184–253) also spoke of Christ liberating humanity from bondage.

This view emphasizes that humanity is held captive by sin, death, and the devil, and Christ’s work frees us from that captivity.

The Classic View of the Early Church (Sometimes know as Christus Victor)

The most ancient and widely held perspective among the early Christians is known today as Christus Victor, Latin for “Christ the Victor.”

This framework was rediscovered and articulated by theologian Gustaf Aulén (1879–1977) in his influential book Christus Victor.

The Core Idea

Christ’s death and resurrection are God’s decisive victory over the powers that enslave humanity:

• sin

• death

• Satan

• corruption

Instead of focusing primarily on punishment or debt, the early Church saw the cross as a battle and a triumph.

Biblical Foundations

Several New Testament passages describe salvation in these terms.

Christ defeats death

1 Corinthians 15:54–57

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”

Christ defeats the powers

Colossians 2:15

“Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.”

Christ destroys the devil

Hebrews 2:14

“Through death he destroyed the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil.”

The Harrowing of Hell

The early Church believed that Christ descended into death and liberated the righteous who had died before him. You might remember the line from various creeds, “..crucified under Pontius Pilate, suffered, died and was buried…He descended into hell…”

This event—called the Harrowing of Hell—is referenced in:

• 1 Peter 3:18–20

• Ephesians 4:8–10

It became a powerful symbol of Christ breaking open the gates of death.

Early Church Fathers on Salvation

The earliest Christian writers overwhelmingly spoke of salvation as healing and victory, not merely legal forgiveness.

Irenaeus (2nd century)

“The Son of God became what we are so that we might become what he is.”

Athanasius (296–373)

“For the Son of God became man so that we might become God.”

Gregory of Nyssa (335–395)

He described Christ’s incarnation as a divine rescue mission to defeat death.

St. John Chrysostom

In his famous Easter homily he proclaims:

“Christ is risen, and death is overthrown!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!”

The Church as a Hospital

Eastern Christian tradition often describes the Church not as a courtroom but as a hospital for the soul.

Sin is understood not merely as breaking rules but as a spiritual sickness.

Christ therefore comes not simply as a judge but as a divine physician.

Scriptural Support

Mark 2:17

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”

Psalm 103:3

“He forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases.”

Under this framework:

• sin is illness

• Christ is the healer

• salvation is restoration

Why Christus Victor Produces Hope

The difference between the frameworks is not merely theological—it shapes the emotional tone of the gospel. Remember that your theology affects your psychology, your view of God trickles into every area of your life, often unconsciously.

Penal Substitution Emphasis

• guilt

• punishment

• legal debt

• fear of judgment

Christus Victor Emphasis

• liberation

• healing

• victory

• restoration

In the classic Christian proclamation, the cross is not primarily about God punishing someone but about God entering into the human condition to destroy death from within. Christ does not simply pay a penalty. He rescues humanity.

The Gospel (Kerygma) of the Early Church

The earliest Christian preaching focused on a simple proclamation:

1. Humanity is enslaved by sin and death.

2. God sent His Son to rescue the world.

3. Christ died and rose again.

4. Death has been defeated.

5. All who unite themselves to Christ share in His victory.

This message is summarized beautifully in 1 Corinthians 15:3–4:

“Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures,
he was buried, and he was raised on the third day.”

But the story does not end with forgiveness. It ends with resurrection and new life.

Conclusion

Throughout Christian history, theologians have tried to understand the mystery of the cross. Some have emphasized justice and punishment, others honor and debt, and still others love and moral transformation.

Yet the earliest Christian writers often proclaimed something even more dramatic:

Christ has defeated death.

The cross is not merely a payment.
It is a cosmic victory.

Humanity is not simply acquitted.

Humanity is rescued, healed, and restored.

In this vision, the gospel is not primarily a story about guilt.

It is a story about hope.

As the ancient Easter proclamation declares:

“Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and upon those in the tombs bestowing life.”

As we approach Easter I urge to think about these things. For me, the Christus Victor idea of the early Church has revitalized me. I have hope. Christ truly is the righteous warrior that battled sin, death and the devil. Enemies I could never defeat. I feel thankful, hopeful and in awe of meeting my God.

When I was young, one dare didn’t leave the house unguarded on Halloween or Mischief Night. You might find a nasty surprise upon arrival. I have memories of some fun times so here goes…

Mischief Night Origins

The night before Halloween was known as mischief night where I grew up, in the Philadelphia area. While Halloween was fun and profitable in terms of free candy, dressing up and so forth, mischief night was far more fun for delinquents like myself.

The point of mischief night was….well mischief. Where did this come from I wondered? Here is a bit of research as to its origins.

• Samhain (Ancient Celtic): This was the Celtic New Year and a festival marking the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. The Celts believed the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest during this time. To ward off or confuse spirits, people wore disguises and engaged in minor acts of disruption or chaos, essentially creating a brief period of ritualistic anarchy that often included harmless pranks.

• Feast of Fools/Lord of Misrule (Medieval Europe): During the Middle Ages, especially around the Christmas or New Year season, many European communities designated a time when social hierarchies were temporarily inverted. Young men, often led by a mock king or “Lord of Misrule,” were permitted to mock authorities and engage in rowdy behavior. This tradition formalized a time for controlled, temporary misrule.

Mischief night was a kind of “Purge” like event, a time when it was acceptable to go out the raise a little mayhem without any serious consequences. Perhaps get back at a nasty neighbor, mess with the girl who spurned your advances, that kind of thing.

Mischief Night Shenanigans

The Dogshit prank was an oldy but goody. You likely know it, you would find some doggie doodoo and put it into a paper lunch bag or shopping bag. The you light the bag on fire on the front doorstep of your victim, ring the doorbell and run.

We actually never had great success with this one. The person was supposed to see the fire and stamp on it, trying the put it out, and of course, end up with doggie poo on the shoe. I can’t see in all the attempts we were successful. This was a great disappointment, so we got more creative.

Our favorite prank, which we repeated for years, was the phantom knocker. We would take a fishing line (invisible at night) and affix one end above a window with a screw perhaps or some duct tape. We would tie a washer just below the end before affixing it and then back off maybe 50 or 100 yards where we would hide. We would start to let the line go slack and then tighten it, causing the washer to smack against the glass like someone was knocking on the window. Of course the victim would look out the window and we would stop. They’d leave and we would rinse and repeat.

After several rounds, the frustrated victim would launch out the back door, but we would tighten the line and it was invisible, and they never really got what was going on. At times we might be 100 yards away or more and we never got caught. Of course, we would push it to the limit, and the frustrated homeowners would scream into the night the horrible things they would do to us.

The best part was as they walked the perimeter of the yard, we would start again and they would heard the washer smacking the glass and rush back only to puzzle at what was going on. We may have driven the some people to the edge of sanity, it was great fun.

Another fun prank, far more dangerous, was the “floating ghost prank”. We would use the same tried and true fishing line. We would thread the fishing line through a tee shirt. We would affix one end of the fishing line across a road and tie it off on a sign or other object while the the shirt lie on the street and we had the other end of the line a ways away. As a car approached we would tighten the line and the shirt would rise like a ghost suddenly and quite often the car would skid to a stop. This of course was foolish and dangerous, but as I have admitted, I was basically a juvenile delinquent, so consequences were not considered in any rational way.

Lessons Learned

Once during our fun with the tee shirt across the street prank, a younger man slammed on breaks, found the fishing line and gave chase. We were foolishly laughing like schoolgirls and he lasered towards out position with bloodlust.

We ran through yards, tree lots and into a city golf course where the dude tackled me. I was quite fast but, at maybe 14 years old, this guy hit me like Ray Lewis. I sat helpless on the ground and he started the ground and pound. Who knew MMA type techniques existed back then?

I was a delinquent, not a tough, so of course, he realized I was a skinny kid that weighed maybe 90 pounds, so he relented and gave me a good talking too afterwards. That was quite a lesson learned that evening. By all rights he should have kicked my ass much worse. It made me think twice about things.

An even better lesson happened when a homeowner saw the fishing line and quickly sprinted towards our hideout in the thick trees behind the house. We sprint full speed in the dark, and we could hear his angry screams. As were sprinted, branches scraped against me, I hit the ground after tripping over various objects and righted myself only to sprint into a tree. I almost knocked myself out, but I gathered my wits and continued as I still heard the pursuer.

He finally gave up and we got away, but the next day, I had bruises, cuts and a limp to remind me of the idiocy we engaged in.

The Final Lesson

This part perhaps is somewhat funny in retrospect but at the time it was terrifying. One Halloween we were getting candy and meandering around the neighborhood. It was late and we had some fun with M80’s blowing up pumpkins on porches. Luckily no fires resulted that we knew of. We did get covered with pumpkin guts, so that was kind of cool.

As it was getting late we cut across a rather dicey area. We saw some older kids coming at us, they looked kind of big and irritated. The long and short of it was this. They held us a gunpoint, took everything (including our pillow cases of candy) like my penknife and a few bucks in my pocket. They even took my zippo and Marlboro reds. Zero honor among thieves. What kind of person takes a kids smokes?

I went home and mom called the police and we rode around the squad car looking for the dudes, but we never found them.

I did learn a lesson, the police got involved, I was freaking out, thinking they would ask me about the M80s and pumpkin guts all over the neighborhood or why I smelled like beer and cigarettes at my young age, or perhaps what I was doing wandering around at 10 on a school night. As usual I got away unscathed, but the gun in our faces really freaked me out. It was surreal to stare at pistol being pointed at you and realize it was really happening.

I think that was the last time the gang really raised hell. At least nothing serious happened and I was left with some fond memories of our little hell raising tribe. I often wonder what happened to all those guys, as I moved away soon afterwards to another state. Today doing such things much be judged quite harshly but 50 some years ago it all seemed normal.

It is an interesting read and certainly has some salient points:

• Core claim: Masculinity is defined by how men perform in small male coalitions (“gangs”) facing threats.

• Tactical virtues (his yardstick): Strength, Courage, Mastery, Honor.

• “Good at being a man” vs. “a good man”: Skill for survival/status vs. moral goodness—distinct ideas.

• Honor: Your reputation among men; earned by tests, always at risk, maintained through deeds.

• Male identity is peer-referenced: Men judge masculinity chiefly by other men’s standards.

• Hierarchy & testing: Men sort rank through challenge, risk, and competence.

• Civilization’s trade-off: Modern safety reduces daily need for the tactical virtues, blurring male roles.

• Prescription: Build or join male groups, train the body, learn hard skills, accept risk, defend your “perimeter.”

• Sex/romance note: Mixed groups change male behavior; single-sex spaces keep focus on performance and honor.

• Scope: The book is descriptive about masculinity in threat contexts; ethics and broader morality are treated separately.

Jack seems to be, what shall I say, confused a bit about morals. You can read more about him, but nevertheless, its a starting point to understand the malaise men find themselves in.

As I began to consume more literature including “Iron John”, classics like “The Odyssey” and “The Iliad”, “No more Mr. Nice Guy” and many Christian and Non-Christian writings about masculinity, I realized I had been searching for the answer to a question? Am I a man? What does that entail? How do I know if I am a man?

This article is not going to deal with those rather lengthy and often difficult questions, but what came out of this journey was also the question of friendship, comradery, brotherhood. Why did I feel that something was so missing from my corporate cubicle life? Surely I was meant for more than what the world offered.

How Many Close Friends Do You Have

I discovered my longing was really the absolute need for men to have close relationships. I don’t mean casual relationships like those found at work but really deep commitments to each other that transcended the Church, the workplace or the college team you rooted for.

Anyone who played sports, joined the military, or participated in difficult challenges, like century rides, cross county motorcycle tours, rugby, extreme skiing and other activities understand the close bonds men can develop with each other and we often long for that again, but can’t articulate it. I think most men are missing these relationships and it shows.

According to Pew Research, men have relationships with other men as follows:

• Age ~40 (30–49 group): about one-third (34%) have 5+ close friends; most of the rest have 1–4. Some have none.

• Age ~50–60 (50–64 group): about 40% have 5+. Most of the rest have 0 or 1.

• Age ~70 (65+ group): about half (49%) have 5+. Most of the rest have 0 or 1.

In the book I mention above, “The Way of Men”, the author asks a question that haunted me. “Do you have a bury the body buddy?”, well a strange question but most of us instinctively understand what he is hinting at and the answer is a resounding NO.

I can only think of perhaps 2 friends in the last few decades that I might call and ask something of them that would really be a huge ask. One has passed away and one have moved about 2000 miles from me.

Remember in “Lord of the Rings” when Sam says “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you”. He demonstrated loyalty under brutal difficulty. All men desire friendships and bonds like this, and are eager to be that friend to other men. Unfortunately in our modern world, these traits are rare and even rarer are the “band of brothers” that have each others back. Lets see what the Bible has to say about this.

The Bible has Much to Say About Friendships

• Sirach 6:5–17 – On testing and keeping friends; highlights:

  • 6:7 – “If you would gain a friend, test him first…”

  • 6:14–16 – “A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter… beyond price… a life-saving remedy.”

• Sirach 9:10 – “Do not abandon old friends; a new one is like new wine…”

• Sirach 37:1–6 – “Every friend says, ‘I am a friend,’ but some are friends in name only.”

• Proverbs 17:17 – “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”

• Proverbs 18:24 – “There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

• Proverbs 27:6 – “Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.”

• Proverbs 27:9 – “Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from earnest counsel.”

• Proverbs 27:17 – “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”

My Friend Bill

Let me give an example of a true and earnest friend. His name was Bill, he passed about 5 years ago. Bill and I met in a divorce recovery group at a local church. On the surface, we had little in common. I had a few degrees and worked in tech and defense. Bill was raised in NYC and joined the military out of high school. He eventually became a Green Beret and served in Viet Nam at the height of the war.

Bill had mild agent orange poisoning and some health challenges, for which he received a pittance, but that didn’t stop him from being a NYC cop for 20 years and then a fireman in Florida before moving out west. He had a small security company and a three kids from 2 failed marriages when we met.

Bill and I really connected in the group, we were both suffering through unwanted divorces and shared at least that in common. We started spending holidays together. Anyone who has been through an unwanted divorce, especially with young children, knows the holiday pain. Once there was a family to enjoy the holidays, now there were memories are shattered dreams. Every Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving, Birthday, Anniversary became cause for a great depression.

We understood each other’s pain, so it became a ritual that each holiday, we hung out or travelled to forget about our failures and misery. Bill was a tough man, but the divorce really took the wind out of his sails. We spent a lot of time reading books and trying to understand what went wrong. We even joined a men’s therapy group to recover from the divorce.

As the years went by, Bill and I became inseparable. Even though I remarried and had a large, blended family, Bill was always a presence at the holiday dinner. I had to make some long cross country drives, so I called Bill and asked, can you drive with me and the kids to a tournament in Texas or Las Vegas and always the answer was yes. Let me rearrange my schedule, see you then.

Bill was a Bury the Body Buddy to the end. If someone hassled me in a bar, he seriously asked me, I’ll go kick his ass for you, just say the word. Really, love to beat the crap out of him. Of course, I said no, I can take care of myself, but it demonstrated extreme loyalty.

When Bill passed, I was at his bedside. My wife and I prayed the rosary as he passed and amazingly, the doctor that presided over him was from our Church. God ordained I saw his last breath and was gifted to be part of his passing. There was such a tangible presence of God, I will never forget the moment.

I will likely never have another friend like Bill. They come along once in a lifetime if you are lucky. Perhaps the Lord will ordain that again, but I count myself Blessed to have even have had a single friend like him.

What makes a Band of Brothers?

So I often ponder, what was it about Bill and I? What makes a Bury the Body Buddy or a Band of Brothers? I believe these are the character traits.

Extreme Loyalty

A true friend has your back. He sides with you, he stands up for you. He is closer than a brother. If someone speaks ill of you, he defends you and your reputation. He will pay the price for your defense.

Availability

A brother is as close as a phone call. He will drop his plans to be available. He will rearrange his schedule if you need him. He will travel across the country if need be to help, to support and to encourage. Bill and I chatted on the phone several time a week, often about nothing but current events, politics or religion.

Common Suffering

A true friend has been though the suffering with you. Perhaps the best illustration is the brotherhood of the Navy SEALs or other selection courses. You suffer with these men through extreme adversity. You push each other, encourage each other, plead not to quit.

The suffering could be, as in our case, a divorce, an illness or perhaps a traumatic event. Another example is when I was part of the fundamentalist cult known as the “International Churches of Christ” or the ICOC.

The ICOC horror stories may be new to you. You can read about those here Stories from the ICOC

I still have close bonds with many of the men that were part of this movement. We were all caught up in a bizarre cult, and we all mostly escaped and now we share a bond, almost like fellow POW’s.

Common Faith

Bill was a Lutheran and I became Catholic, but we shared a common understanding of the telos of life. We understood good and evil, right and wrong and faith versus unbelief. We framed our lives around the fact of the resurrection of Christ and we knew no matter what transpires, this world is not our home, we are just a passing through. When Bill passed, the pain was intense, yet I was and still am sure I will see Bill again, as I will see my Father and dear friends and relatives.

Conclusion

Many men do not have any close friends and few have a “Band of Brothers”. I count myself lucky that several epochs in my life I had friends I could count on. I still have several good friends now, but some are agnostic or atheist. We share a closeness and a comradery but it can only go so deep. As we age, the gap becomes even more pronounced. Their lack of faith and belief in the goodness of God necessitates a world view that is fundamentally different, one that is hopeless and nihilistic.

Here are some idea’s to create your own “Band of Brothers”.

• Take a martial art. I developed a close knit group of men when I pursued my black belt. For close to 10 years I trained 3-4 days a week and became tight with a several men. We hung out together quite often. There was a real comradery through out shared suffering, especially fighting in large tournaments.

• Join a men’s group at Church. While most church men’s groups are somewhat effeminate and feel like another PowerPoint presentation, just jamming information into your head, some do real projects. For example, in NYC there was a men’s group that trained younger men in leadership, boxing, wrestling and virtue.

• Join on online men’s group like Patriarchy.com or Marriage Mastery. There are many others on Substack that are reasonably priced.

• Educate yourself. Begin by reading classic literature like Homer. If you are a terminal “Nice Guy”, read “No More Mr. Nice Guy” by Glover. While some of the current men’s movement is not exactly virtuous, they have some things directionally correct.

• Learn the virtues. Consider joining Alexandre Havard’s virtuous leadership program. You can read more about this here: Alexandre Havard

• Subscribe to other feeds on Substack. I like “Desert Catholic” and “Becoming Noble” for example. There are many excellent articles on building a band of brothers scattered about.

Good luck men, men God guide you in your journey to find and build a band of brothers.

Deus Vult.

The Weird “Little Compton-ites”

I moved to a strange little town in Rhode Island in 11th grade, the town of Little Compton. It sat on the end of a peninsula and was an extremely old town, at least for the united states, being founded in 1674 as a European settlement and incorporated as Little Compton a few years later in 1682.

There was a town commons with a lunch place, a package (liquor) store and a general store along with the ubiquitous Congregational Church. Most of the town survived on the summer folks, who owned large houses on the water on Sakonnet Point. The point had a nice harbor, yacht club, sailing school, private country club and private beaches along with a few restaurants.

Most of the townies were supported the “summer people”, in trades like construction, landscaping, boat sales and maintenance, farming and arts and crafts, along with the usual plumbers, electricians and so forth. There were also many lobster boats docked there along with fishing boats and various forms of clamming boats, aka skiffs. It was a very blue collar town, at least the full time residents were.

There was also a raucous bar, the Foc’Sle where the fisherman spent their hard earned money and were served beer and drinks in plastic cups due to the frequent fights and shenanigans. It was a rough and intimidating place and I once has a friend thrown off the porch onto the parking lot, which was full of glass and other items guaranteed to impale some part of the human anatomy. You didn’t mess with the fishermen, one learned that the hard way.

Little Compton did not have a high school, so the year I moved, it was decided we would attend Portsmouth High, which was a good 45 minute bus ride across the river and on the end of Aquidneck island.

We were referred to as “Little Comptonites” or just “Comptonites”, rather derogatorily by the kids that lived in Portsmouth, which was a wealthier and nice town by most standards. Newport was at the end of Aquidneck island, just 20-30 minutes away. It was famously known as a playground for the rich, mostly from New York.

Crazy Lenny

The little Comptonites stuck together. We had our little crew, Doug (who later became a state cop), Frank who’s family owned a large dairy farm, Brian who’s family owned a large farm and fruit stand, Tag - franks cousin, George who’s family owned a small construction company and myself. There was one more in the crew, Lenny. Lenny was the wild one.

Lenny was a townie with a chip on his shoulder. He was naturally strong, and a gifted athlete. He has long flowing hair he kept in a pony tail and he was quick with his fists and lethal. Lenny was a gifted tennis player and truth be known, could have excelled in most any sport. He was more interested in parties, however, and he was quite popular with the ladies. We both had a love for Marlboro Red’s and Nasty Narry’s, aka Narragansett Beer.

We became fast friends and Lenny and I played tennis most of the year, even in the winter. We both became quite good and made the tennis team in Portsmouth. In the summer we would play tennis for hours and then head home for dinner and resume hanging out at south shore partying or on weekends, head to Newport to hunt the elusive summer girls.

The Lenny and Doug Battles

So many memories of Lenny, I could write for hours, but allow me to focus on one for the sake of brevity. Doug and Lenny were bitter rivals. It was mostly because Doug was tall, well built, aggressive and an exceptional football player. Doug’s family had money and he and was new in town and Lenny was clearly a blue collar townie type, unlikely ever to progress past high school as his family was rather poor and not given to think college was a worthwhile endeavor. Doug was heading to college and that was not the usual path for a townie like Lenny.

We rode the bus everyday and most of the Comptonites played sports, so we rode the sports bus home after practice. We hung out all the time, and that meant ample opportunity for Lenny and Doug to arm wrestle and compete at most everything under the sun. Every weekend we would head to Newport maybe a 45 minute drive.

Virtually every time we went out, the same sorts of things would happen.

• Fight about who was driving and an argument about gas money

• Stop by the “packy” to get beers, using fake ID’s (Stone Bridge Liquors)

• Race to the bridge and see who could down the most beers before crossing the river, the goal being a 6 pack.

• Make our rounds at the bars, “The Tavern” for cheap drinks followed by some disco place to meet ladies and finally “Jimmy’s” for more drinks and games like Space Invaders and Foosball and always Bowen Wharf to get a beer at the Black Pearl.

• An altercation with someone in the bar, usually initiated by Lenny sometimes Doug, resulting in being asked to leave or fisticuffs.

• An altercation between Doug and Lenny, often resulting in Lenny driving his car onto the beach and getting stuck in the sand with the rising tide.

• Frank falling asleep while driving and scraping the guard rail on the way home, often at 2 AM or later.

The beauty of this, along with the frustration was..it was so predictable. We all waited for the games to begin and there was excitement in the air, perhaps tension and Lenny would get fired up and challenge Doug to some sort of contest, invariably won by Doug, setting Lenny off on a drunken revenge fest. Lenny was a kind hearted person but he turned into someone quite different when he drank.

The Race Through the Field

One of my favorite battles was Lenny versus Doug in an automobile race late on Friday evening. Lenny had purchased Doug’s old car, as Doug had gotten a hand me down from his brother. We had a few of us in Lenny’s car and some in Doug’s, as we headed to “the point” for drinks and a beating from the fishermen at the Foc’Sle.

There was a long bend in the road as we accelerated and raced manically along east main road towards Sakonnet point. Doug was clearly leading, as I was in looking out back at Lenny’s car.

Incredibly, Lenny decided to cut the corner and race 100 yards or so through a field at 70 MPH to try and cut us off. We could not believe what we were seeing. It was incredibly dangerous and also hilarious. We saw clouds of grass, weeds and dirt flying every which way, illuminated by Lenny’s headlights bouncing as the suspension bottomed out. The car fishtailed wildly and we were sure something horrible would transpire.

Amazingly Lenny kept the vehicle generally heading in the right direction. Sadly, once through the field, he tried to straighten out the car on the road and he lost control and his car careened into one of the many rocks walls lining the properties, ending up with the front end embedded into the now partially destroyed wall.

We checked on Lenny who was no worse for the wear but pissed at what happened. Knowing we had to do the right thing, we piled into Doug’s car and left the scene of the crime, leaving Lenny’s car on the wall. We wanted to avoid the DUI from the town cops, though that was unlikely.

In those days, I got stopped by the town cops many times. I got off with warnings and a few times, I had to follow them home with their lights flashing to make sure found my way home. Maybe that wasn’t so good, but eventually I matured and realized driving while intoxicated was irresponsible.

Of course, Lenny had to repair the wall, (which I helped him do the next couple weekends) and get a new car. I don’t think he was charged with anything. Again in those days the police in this small town knew everyone and they would overlook infractions and a lecture would suffice, along with a call to the family about the out of control behaviors of the high schoolers.

Lenny’s Passing

I learned of Lenny’s unexpected passing at the age of 54 a few years ago. I had not seen him since those days, as I moved out west after college. It was a sad day and I had thought I would see Lenny again when I visited my old stomping grounds, but I never did. He stayed in town, married and had a couple daughters and from all accounts was a good man and a good father.

My understanding is he stopped drinking and started going to Church and reformed his life. I was happy to hear about that, he certainly had his demons back in those days and Lenny was always a good hearted person, he just needed to know God in a more personal way and leave some of his ways behind, as I also did.

Sadly a few of the townies died in high school, the result of a car wreck one Friday evening. I was almost in that car, and I knew those guys, it was a sad tragedy but it didn’t stop us from continuing down our path of perdition.

I count myself fortunate and surely God’s hand was upon me, though I hardly deserved it. I was not a virtuous person and in fact, I don’t think I had ever heard the word virtue before. I did learn some things from that time, loyalty, friendship and courage. We had each others back, we were a “band of brothers” and we could count on each other for help.

The young men today seem so different from our boomer generation. Perhaps in many ways they are better, in other ways worse. Perhaps they can become more acquainted with the manly virtues of courage, perseverance, fortitude and prudence. They can build a band of brothers without the moral depravity of the boomer generation.

My last couple years of high school bliss were spent in the Portsmouth, Rhode Island area. The proximity to the ocean, bays and salt water marshes provided ample opportunity to learn “QuaHogging” aka getting the large clams for chowder by using a “Bull Rake”.

Also available: swimming, scuba diving, snorkeling, power boating, sailing and of course, testing one’s mettle (and stupidity) diving off rocks, ledges and bridges. The bars of Newport was also a favorite destination, where we would pursue the elusive “summer girls” that frequented Newport on their Daddy’s yacht with our fake ID’s.

Alas those fun days have passed many decades ago, but one memory stands out. My first jump/flop off the escape bridge. Allegedly the escape bridge was about 35 feet off the water, depending on the tide.

One Friday evening, after we had stayed out all night drinking and chasing girls (and as usual returning empty handed), the sun was rising and the summer heat sweltering as it was now Saturday. We always car pooled and chipped in for gas, so whoever was driving didn’t have to foot the bill. We were cruising up the the escape bridge when the car slowed and parked.

My friend Jeff, who seemed to have been born with a death wish, decided it was the proper time (being intoxicated and tired) to dive off the bridge and make the swim through the current to the rocks. We were all legends of course, in our own mind, so we needed to prove ourselves with this rite of passage.

Depending on the tide, the current could be wicked, but being strapping young idiots, we brushed it off. We lifted weights and played sports, so we were up for anything. The 10 Heinekens we each drank provided liquid courage and plenty of carbs for the swim anyway. Alcohol promotes good decisions.

As the old saying goes, “Stupid is as stupid does”, and not being one to back down from challenges, we assembled on the bridge. The cove is off to the right of the bridge and it so happened Jeff’s father was in his rather nice fishing vessel getting ready for a fishing trip. He eyed us suspiciously and then eventually laughed and encouraged us to take the leap.

Back in those days, “safetyism” was not a thing. Parents let the kids raise hell and figured the school of hard knocks would teach them, which it usually did. The lessons that hurt stuck with you for a lifetime, if they didn’t kill you.

Jeff climbed out over the waist high railing and stood on the thin ledge, bloodlust in his eyes. He executed a perfect swan dive, humiliating the rest of us. Good Lord there was no way I was going to dive 35 feet into the channel.

I climbed out over the railing and stood on this thin ledge. My bravado folded like a cheap Chinese butterfly knife. Too late to back out now. I made the leap.

Having little to no experience jumping from heights, I started to lean forward too much. My arms flapped involuntarily and from all accounts I looked like a chicken desperately trying to fly.

When I hit the water, if felt like concrete and my arms went numb. I also forget to cross my legs, so the water gave me a massive shot to the balls. It was then i realized I hadn’t looked for boats and I heard engine noise while underwater. Good Lord was I going to get destroyed by a propellor? Were my balls even still attached to my body? Did my arms still work?

It seemed to take forever to get back to the surface. I finally realized the current was taking me out and around the point, so I started swimming for all I was worth. I made it, exhausted and somewhat shaky. Thankfully no boats were close, so I escaped my foolish decision without permanent harm.

As I climbed up the rocks, Jeff’s Dad shouted, that was the funniest thing I have seen in quite a while young man…you looked like a chicken trying to….yea yea whatever. Jeff’s dad could give it a go and see how he fared.

Thus ended my high diving career. It was not fun and I didn’t miss it but I hadn’t chickened out. Thirty five feet might not look so high until you climb out on a ledge, then it seems really high. I passed another rite of passage.

Safetyism Sucks

As I reflect back on all the fun we had growing up, I feel like my childhood was full of fun and adventure. Riding bikes until dark, racing through fields, bailing hay, riding mini-bikes, driving old John Deere tractors, playing sports, making match head bombs, loading shotgun shells, riding in the back of pickup trucks, surfing, the list is endless.

I remember constantly sneaking onto the country club golf course to get a few holes in. Invariably the marshal would chase us, and we would quickly retreat and hide, only to play again once he left. Even more fun was crashing the parties at the country club and trying to meet a “summer girl”. Those days were amazing. Adventure was in the air and every day of the summer was precious.

Sure we some stupid stuff, but I learned about my world and life felt exciting. Every day was different and the boys were always up for anything. I was fortunate enough to have good friends who loved danger and excitement.

These days I watch the parents put bicycle helmets on 3 year old’s when they take a stroll. Dogs have seat belts in cars. The thought of riding in the back of a pickup truck is met with horror and thoughts of child services being sent to your home.

Oddly almost all the kids ride motorized bikes, scooters and faux plastic cars. I wonder if any of them can even pedal a bike up a hill anymore. Seems like the bigger danger is obesity, but common sense is elusive in the longhouse.

I suspect our overly feminized society is slowly destroying our young men. Just look at how many signs and warnings we are bombarded with daily. It seems that being safe is code for stopping any grand adventure. I get it, I put helmets on my kids and wear seatbelts, but the pendulum has swung wildly to a bad place.

The solution? Allow you kids to have some adventure. They are not made of glass. Cuts, falls, black eyes are part of growing up and all of us learn the hard way. There are no free life lessons.

Another thing I tell the young parents is that certain life skills are not optional. You should be able to swim well, navigate with a compass, sprint a mile, defend yourself, handle a fire arm and perhaps a bow and arrow, ride a motorcycle, drive a stick shift and be proficient in wrestling and boxing. Make reading adventure stories a habit.

I don’t know what the future holds for young men, but I sure hope we can bring back some fun and adventure for this generation. Growing up in the 60’s was such a wonderful time. Anything was possible. I hope we can return to that mindset once again.

I’ve worked at maybe 12 companies in the tech startup world, in defense, in telecommunications and in finance (FinTech), so I have been in the smallest of companies and in companies with more employees than a small city. Mostly things start out good at startups, if they survive, and when they are bought, things go downhill rapidly. The “people” managers invade, the HR commissars take power and the once fun startup becomes another corporate longhouse.

Recently some summer interns had a presentation and they were asked what they learned over the summer, and it was somewhat shocking, as they didn’t hold back. They wrote the following observations, which were read by corporate leaders:

• Lots of busy activities

• Exhausted people due to time spent on non-value add work

• Adults acting worse than grade school children trying to up one another without regard to actual service

• Political games

• Work cliques that make high schoolers seem mature

• Face time required to validate ego’s

• Virtual meetings that drain energy and dominate the day

I mean, this young generation ain’t playing the corporate games. I have to grudgingly respect their attitudes. Whether they ever work again remains to be seen, but you have to admire the chutzpah!

So how do you survive the decades in corporate America? Let me show you the way peeps. Be aware the cost may be your dignity and soul, but it can be done.

• Never speak you mind. You must first watch and learn the rules of play. Can your boss handle direct feedback, criticism or perhaps your superior talent? The answer is of course no. Shut up and watch. Observe. Never speak to a someone above your boss unless asked and if asked be very careful. If asked for your opinion of an executive by another executive say something like, I have never worked directly with so and so, sorry.

• Learn to read the room. Who’s really running things? Who has the power? Who calls the shots? Listen with intensity to what really is being said, not the words. Make it a game to identify the hidden powerbrokers and agenda’s. Understand who and who not to trust. Be very careful about how you express yourself to leadership. While “Office Space” is perhaps my favorite movie, it’s a movie, not real life. I have seem many people praised for talk “straight from the shoulder”. Soon they were gone in a RIF.

• Human Resources(HR)/PeopleOps are not your friend. I once knew a woman manager (are there any male managers left?) who had an executive berate her in the evenings in drunken rants. She even recorded the calls. She took it to HR and what happened? Nothing. Soon after she was gone and the executive was still there. HR exists to protect the company and the executive/board. Anyone below the C-level suite are replaceable minions, widgets. You are not a person to most C-level types, get over yourself.

• Learn the real rules. There are rules, lots of them. There are also the real rules that are enforced…without mercy. Learn the difference. Example, I worked in a place where the boss noticed who arrived late and who left early. He was not concerned with productivity just hours, lots of them. He didn’t notice however, when I stayed in the men’s room reading a novel for an hour. He didn’t notice if anyone actually did anything or accomplished anything. The rules were simple. Be there more than 8 hours and be rewarded. Also, do the minimum, anything else was not rewarded.

• No one cares. We have all had the bosses that have these sharing sessions and seem eager to improve the department. They elicit sessions, gripe sessions really, and they earnestly take notes, nod and promise to “see what they can do”. I’ve been through hundreds of these sessions. It’s all smoke and mirrors. They may care but the corporate machinery exists with or without the minions. Ultimately all the matters is the stock price and executive bonuses.

• Be positive. You are working to provide for you family and that is the only reason you are working. Your comfort, needs and wants are secondary to getting the bills paid and maxing out your 401K, so act like a man and quit bitching, life is not supposed to be easy. You are a mercenary in a jungle of backstabbing exec’s, massive ego’s and divorced overweight boss bitches. Accept this reality and be positive.

• Set boundaries. I love those veronica videos see: Veronica doesn't check email after hours. They are great training tools to teach you boundaries. Ever notice the person who completes their work early just gets more work? The person who knows everything gets to do more work? The person always available gets the 10PM call because no one else answered? Yep, that’s how it works. Take all your vacation and sick time. The best policy is to owe hours to the company. I once was laid off and informed that my 190 hours of sick time accrued was not going to be paid out. That was painful. All the times I worked sick for what? Learn that lesson the easy way or the hard way, your choice.

• Noting is really important. If I had a dollar for all the times in the last few decades I actually believed the bullshit that this feature, this release, this bug fix, this outage, etc is important, I would be retired by now. Nothing is really that important. As soon as the P&L goes south, so do you. I’ve had so many awards in my career, employee of the quarter, presidents club, even promises of stock and RSU’s for finishing a project. All of that was total manipulation of get more out of me. The ONLY thing that matter are God, family, clan and country. Set your boundaries because no one else will.

Deus Tecum.

As one moves towards retirement and beyond, the reminiscing kind of ramps up, odd things trigger memories from my misspent youth. I think it’s pretty normal to evaluate your life choices, paths taken and paths avoided as you age. In this case, I was discussing something with my son when a memory from the summer after high school graduation got me thinking.

The Summer before College

Like most boomers born in the late 50’s or 60’s, I believed that a college degree promised the golden life of ease and comfort. Once we got our degree we would get many offers with wonderful and caring corporations that would offer us cradle to grave security. God bless corporate America! Get an advanced degree and we would live the high life, perhaps vacations to the Jersey shore or even Florida. I grew up too poor to even think of traveling to Europe or outside the U.S. at all.

Trouble was, I didn’t much like school. It was rather boring and only good for meeting girls, planning parties, riding in my friends muscle car and perhaps playing sports. Mostly what I learned was how to smoke Marlboro reds, ride wheelies, roll joints and shotgun beers. I did learn how to make pipe bombs and load shotgun shells, perhaps that might be useful someday.

When High School was nearing completion, I felt directionless, nevertheless, I was kind of strong-armed into taking the SAT test, whatever that was, and I came in one Saturday morning during my senior year, very hung over and ill-prepared. Nothing new, I was often hung over and ill-prepared I suppose.

I did pretty well (for me) on the non-math part, I think it was English and really lousy on the math. I wanted to join the military, even though it scared me, but that really wasn’t in the cards in the late 70’s after Vietnam. Joining the military was right up there with testicular cancer in terms of popularity. Besides Dad had been in the Air Force and assured me, the military sucked.

College it would be, I thought. I had no idea what “major” I wanted to study, or what my choices were. My father had his MBA and an undergraduate in industrial engineering. He taught night school at LaSalle, Villanova and Drexel at various times growing up before we left the “Keystone State”. We used to grade his students multiple choice questions as a family at the kitchen table. He was well liked by his students and really enjoyed teaching at night as an adjunct to his day job as a plant manager.

My grades and test scores were pretty abysmal, and I was lucky to attend a community college, but Dad would have none of it. He assured me that the path to success was engineering. Engineering? I kind of liked trains, perhaps that might be a cool job, driving trains. Why did I have to attend 4 year of college? It seemed like a simple job. He informed me it was something else, he told me I would “enjoy” it.

By my senior year we had moved to a different town in New England as Dad climbed the corporate ladder. Fortunately, Dad had started teaching night school at a college in Massachusetts, and he knew the Dean of Engineering. The skids were greased and Dad assured me I had the smarts to be an engineer. I kind of doubted his assessment, and I was pretty sure my high school teachers agreed with me. Still, mainly out of fear, I continued on this path. Since the college was close to the border with Rhode Island, I was able to get in-state tuition, which at that time was $500 per semester. Amazing to think i could pay all my tuition with a summer job, but it was so.

The next decision was what kind of engineer. I like motorcycles and engines, and certainly loved homemade fireworks and explosives, seemed like mechanical would be a good fit. I was both afraid and excited. From what my friends and I knew, college was all about keggers and sorority babes. That’s what all those movies showed anyway. Man this college thing would be better than High School. I would be old enough to drink and there would be no curfew. Suddenly, the military seemed like a terrible path, who wanted to be in boot camp getting reamed by some drill sergeant?

The College Experience

I was pretty freaked out for my first college experience. I didn’t have much money, so I lived at home. The commute was maybe 30 minutes each way and I didn’t know anyone. I was painfully shy and lacked confidence in situations like this. I managed to sign up for the basic classes and I found out the Dean wanted to talk to me. He knew my father, perhaps he just wanted to welcome me.

A few days after the start of classes, I realized I was way out of my element. Most of my classmates already had advanced math, physics, chemistry, stuff I had heard of but avoided in high school. Who needed that pain? I really enjoyed reading in high school and I had an interest in subject like civics and social studies, but what kind of job did that get you?

Eventually I got an appointment to meet the Dean of the engineering school. He was rather intimidating, and he politely sat me near his massive desk. I remember sweating and feeling a bit nervous. He seemed a bit unfriendly and far too serious. Eventually after some small talk, he came right out and said something like the following.

“Son, you have no business in my engineering school. From what I can see from your transcript, your are an underachiever, perhaps not that bright and certainly you don’t have the academic foundation to survive, much less thrive. I expect you will quit very soon or be forced out with poor grades. We have a 50% graduation rate at best and we don’t graduate dummies, there are no free rides. You are only here because I am doing a favor for your Father, an intelligent and motivated man, unlike yourself. Good Day, close the door on your way out.”

I was in shock. What an arsehole. I really never had anyone drill me verbally like that. I grew up with a Dad who was pretty hard on me. We had a rather rocky relationship, but I certainly thought highly of him. He made something of his life, coming from a very rough start. Dad was disciplined, motivated and quite frankly, a very fierce competitor. I was none of these things and the Dean apparently saw through me, I was an empty suit, except I didn’t even own a suit.

I felt like quitting, perhaps this was a horrible mistake, but something inside me stirred. This dean fellow had dismissed me, it was clear he thought I had zero chance of even lasting a semester, let alone graduating. I was mostly a class clown in high school, but occasionally I was motivated and my grades were not bad for someone who rarely studied, let alone tried.

Perhaps this was the fork in the road for me. If I failed, what would I do? I realized I was terrified of failing. I had know kids that graduated ahead of me that worked in an autobody shop or bagging groceries. They settled for a mediocre existence making low wages, I didn’t want that.

I had no idea how to study, but Dad started helping me. I brought home massive amounts of homework in core subject like Chemistry, Physics, Math, English, I think I carried 15 credits. I would come home and start studying and eventually it became a habit. Had I known there were tutors available or lived on campus, perhaps I would have faired better, but eventually the semester ended. I still remember my first physics exam, where I scored a 19…out of 100. Damn that was embarrassing. I ended up with a 1.9 GPA. I passed but barely.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had a fire inside. I was always making fun of the nerds studying, but the truth was, I didn’t like being ignorant. As I started to grasp these subjects, things started to click. I was so far behind the freshmen class, these subjects were reviews for them, for me it was rocket science. Eventually I graduated the next semester with a slightly better GPA, I think that was 2.8 perhaps. I did it though, I made it through the first year. It wasn’t spectacular, but I gave it my all and I didn’t fail.

The next year things were much different. I was even now with the other students. I moved to a house off campus with two other guys in my class who studied. They studied hard. Every evening we hit the books from 6-11, 12 or later. My sophomore year I had mostly A’s and a couple B’s. My GPA for that year was 3.4. My classmates asked me to study with them or tutor them. It felt really good to apply myself, give it my all and be seen as something more than the class clown.

I eventually ended up graduating with distinction, which I was very proud of. Some years later, I realized my Dad had played me. I think he understood there was potential hiding beneath the surface. He has seen flashes of prowess, determination and fortitude, but they were mostly hidden from others and certainly from myself. I believe he talked the dean into having a “Come to Jesus” session with me, a kind of scared straight experience. Perhaps Dad really understood me and maybe, just maybe he lit the fire.

Life Lessons

Certainly that experience shaped the rest of my life. I became successful and have had a very good career, traveled and seen many parts of the world and raised a family. Here are some lessons to pass on to the younger fathers that come to mind.

• God directs our steps whether we realize it on not. He often uses those close to us to do so. I’ve always loved Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight”. I’ve come to believe that God directs our steps, even when we hardly think of Him. He has often directed my steps through my Parents, along with trusted friends and even acquaintances.

• Our parents may know us better than we know ourselves. Some may have parents truly checked out that frankly don’t know or care, but perhaps this is the minority. When you are a teenager, you really are somewhat out of your mind and not thinking clearly. Respected elders can steer you, seek out their wisdom.

• Men need a mentor and a challenge to ignite them. I kind of stumbled through my teen years without any real mentors (Sans my neighbor John which I wrote about). Young men need a hero, someone to push them, guide them, mentor them, take an interest in them and see protentional. Without this mentorship, I would have been bagging groceries much of my life.

• Success is directly linked to effort. I never really applied myself to studying and once I did, I realized I could be more than the class clown. Effort does not always equal success, but there is little to no success without effort.

• Hard work and obsession beats talent. There is no such thing as a child out of the womb that understands advanced math. We hear too much about talent and too little about hard work. I know some very successful people, from CEO’s to Navy Seals and they all have the same thing in common. Obsession and hard work. Sometimes you just have to outwork everyone else. Amazing what can be achieved.

• You become whom you hang around with. As the old saying goes, “show me your friends and I will tell you who you are”. I needed some better friends who wanted to go places in life and not settle for mediocrity. I fell into hanging with underachievers, victims and druggies. It was a mistake and I regretted it later. I ended up with a nicotine habit to show for it. You can’t pick your family but you can pick your friends.

• Eye rolling when you are speaking

• Sighing and taking deep breaths when you speak or ask a question

• She leaves the room during a conversation

• Looking at her phone, computer, tablet or TV during a conversation

• Spending less time at home, running errands alone for example

• Interrupting or talking over you

• Answering for you

• Gaslighting

• Sarcasm

• Infrequent or non-existent sex

There is, of course, far more that could be listed, but men, you get my drift. You feel like the TV or modern movie dad, you are around to provide entertainment and funds, nothing more. You are treated like a clown by your own family.

Men believe me, women have a built-in detector when it comes to men. They are always looking, judging and testing their husbands.

The first step towards rectifying the situation is to realize they have a biological imperative to test you. They cannot help themselves, they are always judging you as a provider and protector. You are always being compared and the not so subtle questions they ask themselves are:

• Is my husband worthy of my respect?

• Can I give myself to him sexually and completely?

• Do other women look at him, find him attractive, wish they were married to a man like that?

• Is he the man I thought he was when I married? Could I have done better?

• Would the kids and I be better off without him?

Often times the men I am describing fail these tests. All..the..time. Why? First of all naivety . They think that their wives don’t have sexual urges, don’t fantasize about sex and being dominated by a man. But my wife is a ladies bible study leader? So what, she is still a women. Do not think your wife is too holy, too pure or too committed to God to have these desires and thoughts. She is not.

Low Value Behaviors to Avoid

Let’s start to reclaim your respect by eliminating some low-value behaviors that turn women off. I’ll keep it short and sweet and try and list the most common.

• Dressing like a teenager. Sneakers, ragged gym short and old t-shirts.

• Cargo pants, muscle shirts, flip-flops, old baseball caps.

• Body Odor. Women have a much finer sense of smell than men.

• Nose picking.

• Being overweight. You wear you lack of discipline.

• Unkempt hair, ungroomed beards, and hair in places well…you know.

• Arguing with you wife. Just don’t. Its not winnable and it’s not manly.

• Eyewear from the armed services you never replaced.

• Complaining. Boys and children bitch but men build.

• Overpromising and under delivering. Not keeping your word.

• Allowing the home to be in disrepair. Lights not working, junk piled in the garage, car dirty and unkempt. Sloppy office space.

• Not leading. Lead in everything from planning a vacation to saving for a car to helping your children in sports and education.

• Not planning. Not having a budget nor a savings and retirement plan nor an estate

• Asking permission rather than directing.

• Treating your wife like your buddy.

• Not listening. Not asking her questions.

• Being predictable. Lacking spontaneity.

High Value Behaviors

Try to work on one or two of the low value behavior. Don’t tackle them all at once, that’s a recipe for failure. Start to work on a few of these high value behaviors.

• Dress like a man going places. Prefer styles that are timeless. I like Ralph Lauren, J. Crew, Banana Republic and Mott and Bow premium T-Shirts. Don’t leave your house looking like a 22 year old that lives at home with his parents.

• Loses the old clothes. Men on the move dress like it. You money will be well spent.

• The first thing a women notices are your shoes. Figure it out. Lose the trainers.

• Stop. Just stop arguing with you wife. It’s demeaning and beneath you. Speak to her with respect. I can see you are upset. How can I help?

• Stop giving solutions to your wife, replace that with penetrating questions. Is there something I can do to help lessen the load?

• Clean up after yourself. Don’t leave clothes, dishes, plates, glasses laying around. If you do, you are another child she has to take care of.

• Surprise her more often. Honey, I want take you out tonight. Can you be ready by 5:30? Women love spontaneity. It’s very like you are predictable and boring.

• Keeping in shape. Zero excuse for a 38, 39, 40 or more inch waist. If you have the dad bod, make no mistake, she is not fantasizing about you anymore. Lift weights.

• Take martial arts. A kind man can only truly be kind if he is dangerous. Meekness is not weakness. It’s strength under control. Women love men of danger and prowess.

• Lead spiritually. You pick the Church, you lead the family in prayer. You are the spiritual leader of the family. Studies have shown that when mom goes to Church but not dad, the kids are 90% likely to abandon the faith. If dad leads, that drops down to around 10%. The natural law always wins in the end. Men must always set the example and be the leader.

• If possible, allow you wife the privilege of being a homemaker. As Chesterton said, “Feminism is the curious idea that a women is free when she works at the office and a slave when she works for her family”.

One thing I often address. Christian men can gaslight themselves to no end. I was part of a divorce recovery group in a large Church some years ago. There was an average of 75 attendees each 3 month session. 90-95% were men and the stories were all the same. I can’t believe my wife had an affair. We attended Church, bible study and so forth. How could she do that? I was such a good husband, I didn’t drink or smoke, I always had a job and so forth. It happens all the time men. Don’t think you are the exception.

There you have it. Give it a try. Like I said, it’s simple but not easy. Try and pick one or two things and master it. Then tackle a few more. Your wife will thank you for the change.

I grew up in a rather dysfunctional family. I wouldn’t say it was healthy, but it wasn’t the worst either. I knew my mom and dad loved us, they just had a hard time showing it. The the stress of financial issues, going to school at night and raising 4 kids was difficult for them. Perhaps it was the times.

I was kind of a hellion growing up. Due to frequent moves and job changes, I attended 3 different high schools in two years. I found out it was easier to fit in and make friends with the druggies, so that’s what I did. I enjoyed getting high, drunk and had some obsession with blowing up mailboxes with M-80’s. I also was a good athlete, so I had different groups of friends, my druggie friends, my athlete friends (often some overlap there) and my sort of misfit friends that didn’t fit into either group. I was certainly a chameleon, I could run in many circles and I guess I might have made a good CIA agent, I had a morally flexible code.

In a miracle rivaling the immaculate conception, I graduated high school and got into engineering school, only because dad pulled some strings, since he taught night school there. After I finished my engineering degree from UMASS, I had many offers due to the defense buildup under Reagan. Many of my classmates had more than 10 offers for companies like Lockheed, Martin Marietta, Raytheon and other defense contractors. It was a great time to graduate college.

I eventually moved out west and it was otherworldly for poor city boy to see the wide open expanses of the western united states. I took a decent engineering job at a defense contractor and shortly after working there, I was partying several nights a week, traveling and was involved with a hot girlfriend that loved trouble. We sort of spurned each other on the higher levels of craziness.

My Religion

Dad was religious, mom was more religious. Me? I had little or no interest in religion or the bible, I had never really read it or cared much about it. I grew up in the Vatican 2, 60’s Catholic Church, where the 30-40 minute mass once per week sufficed to keep me out of hell.

My priest told me to be a good person, which I understood meant using a condom when having sex and refraining from murder. Everything else was fair game. I was a strapping young man and I was full of anger, piss and vinegar. I was a pretty extreme risk taker, so as long as I didn’t commit murder, I was headed to the pearly gates.

As I settled into my engineering job, it became apparent that my life was a bit out of control, I was working out like a demon, benching close to 400 pounds but getting drunk Thursdays through Sundays. It was a habit to come into work with a massive hangover every Friday. I skied every Saturday but attended mass on Sundays, again usually hungover after crawling out of my girlfriends bed. I enjoyed some coke, pot and black beauties, which helped with my drinking. I won’t digress into the madness and debauchery that I participated in constantly, some of it legal, some illegal.

Life as a Barbarian

I remember the barbarian brothers, a couple of animals, David and Peter Paul, who made a bit of a splash as strongmen and bodybuilder types. I had their poster on my wall. They exemplified the lifestyle I was living. Lifting, getting bigger and partying. At the gym myself and my gang always made a scene. We were jacked on black beauties, aka speed. If I could have gotten PED’s, there was no doubt I would have used them.

My heroes were the Barbarian Brothers, and these guys were a cultural phenomenon in the early 80’s. They appeared in various bodybuilding magazines, on TV and even were in a couple of horrible B movies. They partied, lifted weights, were absurdly strong and when they entered a room, they owned it. Man, I wanted to be like these dudes.

An invitation from God

Even with an amazing girlfriend, a successful career, and a pretty good life ahead, I had to admit there was an emptiness inside. I had more or less everything I wanted but I also had a vague sense of wanting more out of life, a kind of depression and darkness that crept in when I was silent. I never prayed, I didn’t read the bible and really i didn’t practice my Catholic faith. I somehow thought of myself as Catholic but it was obvious I lived like a barbarian.

One day at our apartment complex pool, I was climbing out of the water and a lady asked me, why do you wear that crucifix? Uh. I don’t know, why do you ask? She handed me a card with a bible study invite. I told her I wasn’t interested but I could not throw the card away. I had it on my dresser for months, but I didn’t feel comfortable going to a bible study, but I knew somehow, I needed to think about what my life was about.

As i contemplated the event at the pool, a higher up at work invited me to a lunch time bible chat. I asked who was there and it so happened a hottie engineer I had noticed was attending. Being the dog I was, I agreed. Things with my current girlfriend has not been great lately and she was an atheist I learned, and that bothered me. When we discussed getting married she said she would never set foot or get married in a Catholic Church. She was a hardened feminist and that started to grate on me. I wondered to myself, what would it be like to actually date a nice person.

The first time I attended the work bible study, I actually liked reading the bible. The group explained the old testament, the new testament, the gospels and epistles and I was fascinated. We started with Galatians Chapter 5 and I noted I pretty much committed every sin, sans murder. When it said those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God, I was pretty disturbed. My 60’s priest seemed to poopoo sin as an abstract and some out of date concept, but it was here in black and white. I had to admit, the bible spoke to me. My heart was opening.

Joining the Boston Movement

For those than want an in-depth understanding about the Boston Church of Christ, Campus Ministries, the International Churches of Christ and all the related movements, you can read in more detail here about Tony and how he got hooked: Tony Adams, as the purpose of this article is just an awareness of how easily a searching person can find themselves in one of these off the wall groups. Anyway, let us continue.

After a few bible studies I was invited to a Church of Christ Friday night devotional. They didn’t say anything about the church, just that a bunch of young 20 somethings attended and that hot girl from work would be there and many other people my age. I was a bit tired of the drunken weekends, the drunken sex, the craziness that was part and parcel to my life.

I had met some real crazy guys at our large defense contractor and they had been involved I found out later, in some drugs. They asked me to take drugs from one city to another over the weekend. They would pay my plane tickets, I simply would meet someone at the airport and flyback to my home base with some luggage. Easy money every weekend to augment my lifestyle. I never actually did this, but the fact was, I was very close to transporting large amounts of drugs, that’s how far off my moral compass was.

Growing up, I had not been exposed to any real protestant churches. I had no idea about the Church of Christ, Baptists, Lutherans, Anglicans, Evangelicals. I was easy pickings for cults like Mormons, Jehovah's Witness, cornerstone Baptist types and many other off the wall churches. Thankfully, as cults go, the Boston Church and Christ and its charismatic leader, Kip McKean at least read and believed the bible and had some basis in historical Christianity.

The folks at the bible study were nice. They didn’t curse, they didn’t drink, in fact, I had never met anyone who didn’t party. I thought that these people can’t really be for real. Regardless, I really liked reading the bible, I didn’t understand much, but the words spoke to me. I had enough awareness to understand I was on the highway to hell, running with the Devil, as my favorite band, Van Halen sung about.

Descent Into Authoritarianism

I was quickly sucked into the church. The minister and many of his direct disciples were so kind, I know now that the term is “Love Bombing”. Cults do it all the time to initiate members. The prospective member feels like everyone cares about them. They invited me to events, BBQ’s, ski trips and it was like I had an instant family. They were so serious about Jesus and their faith. All of this seemed slightly off to me, something was not quite right, but they knew the bible and I didn’t. Everyone was so nice, so sincere, these people had to really be the elect. I knew I need off the highway to hell and here was an exit. I took it.

Very soon I was rebaptized and accepted as a full member of the church. I was told that I needed to break up with my girlfriend because she was not saved, so I did. It was crushing but I was assured that God would provide a better option for me. I was told I had to live with the “brothers”, so I did. Very soon I was attending service Friday evenings, twice on Sundays, Wednesdays and Thursday bible study. My life and my time were not my own anymore. If I missed “worship service” then the phone rang. We missed you brother, are you ok? It started to feel very controlling, but I stopped drinking completely. I stopped smoking pot. I stopped cursing. Things were changing. I felt that I was on the right path for once in my life.

The Church of Christ is very strict about outward behaviors, so I was told no drinking, dancing, gambling, smoking, carousing (whatever that was), cursing and my worldly family was very suspect, they were not saved, they were nominal Catholic, which I learned was the whore of Babylon. I could understand that, they all seemed to be lost and wordily and it was clear that their religion was useless. I had found something that was working and I fully embraced it.

Many of my friends and family were shocked at the change. When I married someone from the Church, it was clear I was not in love, but I was told that this person was a “godly woman” and that the attraction and synergies would come from God. I know this was unrealistic and magical thinking, but God was so real to me, of course He would work all this out. I just had to have faith. My family was shocked and so were my friends. What happened to the girl I was dating for years? I explained that I could not marry outside my Church. I could see that my family and friends were growing very concerned. I blew it off. They could not understand spiritual things.

I got married in the Church to the full time women’s minister. Her family were long time Church of Christ types from Texas. I blossomed and led a bible study that converted many people, perhaps a dozen. I was pushed into full time ministry and often spoke at devotionals. While I didn’t enter full time ministry, due to anxiety and a fear of public speaking, I spent the majority of my time reading.

My life had changed but there were cracks in the foundation. I started to have anxiety issues, I mean real panic attacks. I hid them for sometime, but they kept cropping up at the worst possible times. My wife was unhappy. The panic attacks got so bad I quit my engineering job and worked landscaping with a brother from the Church. I went from earning a great salary to barely surviving. It was clear my life wasn’t working well, but God had me.

Getting Out

Our church eventually had a split and most of my peer group left to attend the new and improved International Church of Christ official church planting in my city. My wife at the time had been horribly abused by the campus minister’s wife and she was crumbling emotionally. I had seen various TV documentaries and a 60 minute series about my own church. I knew something was horribly wrong and I had to get us out. Years later my wife told me the only reason she ever agreed to marry me is that she knew I would get us out of the cult. She told me she never really loved me and the marriage had been a mistake.

I was pressured quite heavily to join the ICOC nearby. I basically told my friends there, we were wrapping up things here in this church and we would be placing membership and recommitting ourselves to the movement. Of course, we had no intention of every doing this, but it kept the constant phone calls at bay. The new church was growing and baptizing lots of folks and eventually we sort of drifted off their radar. I remember running into people from the new and improved cult a year later and they basically told us we had fallen away, it was widely accepted by our peers.

For those uniformed, once you leave the Church of Christ and especially the ICOC or one of their Frankenstein movements, you are lost. There is no other church, only the ICOC is saved. Even the mainline Church of Christ is not really saved. They were not “sold out” as we were. All this was reinforced quite heavily by these various conferences we were always attending. The craziest, most sold out, radical preachers became the face of the movement and anything less than 110% was deemed as sin.

Since we were finally “out”, we continued to attend our now much smaller Church of Christ. We eventually got a few new ministers and they tried some revival techniques but it was clear that my heart and mind had left. I didn’t buy the Campbell-Stone story of the restoration and the bible blueprint theory from the book of acts. I took some classes at a Baptist seminary and I started reading church history. I was sure the Church of Christ was not the true church in the book of acts. The whole notion of a remnant God preserved was the same nonsense the cornerstone Baptists told me. In fact, many cults use this same argument. It became laughable.

Eventually my wife and I divorced. Without the cult of personality, the guilt and the constant preaching, we started to realize we had nothing in common and we would have never married unless we had been under this spell of the cult. It was a crushing realization and I didn’t want a divorce, but my wife was done. She left and filed soon afterward.

I started some serious counseling. I was very crushed by the divorce but we had so much emotional damage, it seemed irreparable. Besides my wife moved on and had remarried just 3 months after our divorce was final. I felt like a total fool.

We had two wonderful children and I accepted my life as a single dad. It took me some years of counseling with several different counselors to really start to heal. I was diagnosed with severe PTSD and underwent some interesting therapies that really made a major difference. I wrote some posts about how I recovered from anxiety, you can read those if that is of interest to you. My recovery from this cult is likely still in process after 30 years.

My Ongoing Recovery

I did a whirlwind tour of churches after my divorce, including The Vineyard, Calvary Chapel, Evangelical Free, Evangelical Presbyterian, Bible Churches, Independent Bible Churches, Anglican, Lutheran, Greek Orthodox and finally, I crossed the Tiber to Rome.

My reversion to Catholicism is a miracle in itself. I had read that escapee’s from the International Churches of Christ, on average, never set foot in a church again. Two of my best friends were ministers in Boston and worked directly for McKean. Both have horror stories of recovering from those traumatic years. One hasn’t set foot in a church in 15 years. I had many friends, virtually all have disappeared and I cannot find them on social media. A few I am still in touch with, but none still are members.

I remember many acquaintances that moved, ostensibly to join the Church in another city. Many were never heard from again. They simply found a way to escape by lying about it. In fact, I found out many of the members come from very dysfunctional families, I mean healthy people don’t join cults right? Perhaps not entirely true, but in my case, I was not a healthy person. My family of origin left many scars.

When I look back, it was so obvious I was in a cult. For example, there was an inordinate amount of gays that were part of the singles group. Back then I didn’t even know what gay was. I had thought most left their “lives of sin”, but I found out later all kinds of shenanigans were taking place in our pristine singles group.

It was shocking to learn later that many marriages were actually men denying their gay tendencies and believing God would “heal” them. One bizarre incident I remember was a friend sending me an email about our song leader, an obviously gay man if you spent anytime around him, was on the cover of a gay magazine after he “joined” the San Francisco church.

Another pillar of the church, who was held up by leadership for never kissing his fiancé until the wedding day, turned out to be gay. He ruined his poor fiance’s life. They moved to San Francisco and he has a secret gay lifestyle for some time until she figured it out. Very sad. As I look back, it was very obvious, these men (and many women) where gay and just using the singles group for their own purposes.

All in all, I only really spent maybe 8 years in this cultic movement, but it altered my life quite dramatically in a few good ways and perhaps more bad ways. I write this article as a reflection for myself but also as a cautionary tale about how easily these cultic groups can recruit lonely, lost people.

I am very thankful to God that be returned me to His church, the one holy, Catholic and apostolic church. Like the story of Tony Adams I linked about, some of us escaped with some of our faith in God intact. Sadly many do not.

There are some excellent books out there on cults and how people fall into them. Many abusive churches are in fact cults, cults of personality, cults with bizarre doctrines, classic cults like the Mormon’s or others. If you find this resonates with you, please seek some advices outside your group. I found my way back home, perhaps you can too.

I come from a traditional family where mom raised the kids, did the housework, prepared the meals and dad, well dad went to night school for 10 years and then worked in industry, as he called it. He was mostly gone until I was in my early teens. We had a rather difficult relationship, but that is another story. Sadly he passed many years ago and I miss him badly.

Post Divorce

I didn’t have enough money after the divorce to rent a place right away, so I moved in with a dear friend from the Church of Christ who was kind enough to let me stay for the 6 months it took to get a down payment for an apartment. After the courts cut off my balls, excuse me, did some income balancing, I was living on about $1500 a month after taxes and child support. Needless to say, it was a shocking introduction to our our feminized society, where no fault divorce destroys men every day, leaving little or no recourse other than to pay what the courts demand. See professor Steven Baskerville’s work if you think I am full of it. He has some excellent research.

I found myself rather clueless on how to raise 2 young children. When do i discipline? How do i discipline? What are the boundaries I should set. Suffice to say, I was in a panic. I had to cook, clean, help with homework, get them off to school every Wednesday and every other Friday, Saturday, Sunday. All I knew is that I didn’t want to parent like my family of origin. Some of the stuff that happened to myself and my sisters would likely have put my parents in jail today. I don’t want to judge or blame them. It was the norm back in the late 50’s and 60’s. We have made peace and all is well.

Parenting with Love and Logic

A friend of mine from Church told me about a seminar he attended called “Parenting with Love and Logic”. He gave me some cassette tapes to listen to. I had my doubts, but I was rather lost and at least this had some Christian philosophy behind it.

I listened to the tapes and I was really impressed. Concrete steps and examples that I could use with my kids. I started implementing those things immediately. Now bad parenting dies hard, so I won’t tell you it was a miracle. It took months and even years to ingrain the philosophy into my thick skull, but eventually it stuck and became part of my consciously competent parenting.

Brief Summary of the Philosophy

“Parenting with Love and Logic promotes raising responsible, confident children by combining empathy with clear consequences. Its core philosophy teaches parents to let children make choices and experience the natural outcomes of their decisions—within safe boundaries—rather than relying on lectures, threats, or punishment. By staying calm, empathetic, and consistent, parents allow kids to learn problem-solving, accountability, and self-control, fostering lifelong resilience and good decision-making. The goal is not to control children, but to guide them in learning to control themselves.”

Ok, I stole that of course, but it is pretty accurate. I am going to give one example that my daughter still remembers, see if this resonates.

A Tragedy

My daughters best friend since first grade was killed in a terrible car accident when they were both in ninth grade. My daughter was always a good student, but she started doing poorly. We got her counseling and did what we could, but she started dressing black, she became defiant and we started having a good deal of conflict. She got a whole different set of friends and boy were they trouble. Most were going nowhere fast.

I broke out the book and thought deeply about how to handle this. I knew yelling, threatening, grounding and so forth wasn’t working and it just created a worse divide with my daughter. When a child is 15 or so, threats have a way of backfiring, advice is ignored and things can go south pretty quickly.

Let’s try something Different

I took another approach. The next semester my daughter brought back a bad report. She looked at me defiantly and said, “What are you going to do about it?”. I simply pasted the report card on the fridge and said, nothing, nothing at all. She looked puzzled. I dropped the matter. Mind you, I wanted to yell, scream, lecture. But I practiced hard not to do that.

She watched me for a few days, I acted normal. She finally asks me, “Daddy, what gives?”. Well I said honey, I love you, you know that. I know you are capable of more, but at this point in your life, perhaps college is not in the cards. I’m not worried about this, and you shouldn’t be either. I don’t have the money and you don’t have the ambition, so its a win-win for us.

Instead of complaining, fighting, threatening about how she dressed, I let it go. Didn’t say a word. She would ask me and I would reply, hey your are a beautiful intelligent women, but if you want to hide that, I understand. Dress how you want. She looked puzzled. She would always say “Aren’t you going to do something?”. Nope, its your life, you get to make the decisions, very soon you will be on your own, so this is training for you. Adulthood is coming honey.

During her prom or dance, can’t remember which, she came home well past her curfew. I was up waiting. She had some lame excuses and I said, don’t worry. I am up, let’s get a bite to eat. I took her down into the seedy part of the city where the hookers and drunks hang out at this all night diner.

I drove around for awhile. she was like, what are we doing here. I said, “just looking at your future”. She got a bit pissed at me, but I realized she was also thinking. We went to the diner, with the all night crowd. Quite a show with hookers, drunks, druggies, illegals. She was freaked out, but we hung out in the booth until 4 or 5 am. She was pleading with me to go home. I finally relented and we went home.

A Change

Quite a bit transpired that I won’t go into, but I stuck to my guns. I gave her more responsibility, treated her like and adult, held her to logical consequences. Little by little she changed friends, she began to care more about grades and future.

Fasts forward a year and my daughter got straight A’s. She stopped dressing in black and actually made a couple of sports teams. Now I know it sounds too good to be true, but it is all true. My daughter has a very successful career today, she is in her 30’s now.

We often laugh at that night, but she admitted it woke her up and she saw a bit of her path and where it would lead. I didn’t lecture her, I didn’t yell, I just treated her like and adult and let her suffer the consequences (within reason of course) of her bad decisions. Eventually when she was given responsibility she started “Adulting” as she calls it. Give it a try, it saved our family.