Island Guardian

Wednesday, May 27th

African Reflections, Part One: The Lion Mates Tonight

ShortRib (my wife) and I went on our honeymoon, shortly after getting married at the end of last year. It was an exotic trip and one we wouldn’t have undertaken, given the subsequent economic collapse, had we not already paid for the trip (which was non-refundable). We were thoroughly excited, with my only concern being leaving GuitarHero (my 15-year-old) and JugHead (my 12-year-old) with an adult friend, for so long, with us so far away.

The lessons we all learned and the experiences proved, as is so often the case, beyond anything we anticipated. Our honeymoon consisted of two parts; the first was a safari in the Masai Mara Game Preserve in Kenya and the second, a cruise in The Seychilles Islands (Madagasgar, Assumption Island, Meyotte, Mahe and others). The Mara’s 1,510 square kilometers of open savannah, woodlands, and tree-lined rivers create an eco-system, which supports huge numbers of lions, often in prides, elephant, giraffe, a variety of gazelle species, zebra, cheetah, and many others. The rivers support crocodiles and hippos in abundance.

However, what you see is unlike Disneyland’s choreographed Jungle Cruise. Patience, luck, weather, the time of year, and the skill of the guides determine your sightings. We traveled in Land Rovers, which had removable sunroofs and windows that left us often feeling dangerously exposed. We were beyond fortunate by encountering several prides of lions, herds of zebras, antelope, various gazelles, elephants, a cheetah and her two cubs, plus so much more.

Given it was our honeymoon; we were also surprised to encounter several different species in the throes of mating. We saw turtles do it; antelopes do it, and a pair of lions doing it. Isn’t there a Cole Porter song in there somewhere? But, by far, the most entertaining and ultimately ironic lovers we saw were the pair of lions. The guide explained that they mate many times a day, for seven days in a row, during which time they’re not eating.

Seeing these mating animals had the unexpected effect of reminding me that I had a job to do, at home, in having part two of the sex-talk with GuitarHero. A while ago, he asked if he could begin dating. When I asked him what dating meant to him, he didn’t have an answer. Further, when I asked him if he knew the risks and rewards, both emotionally and health-wise of intimate relations, he gave me that typical teenage embarrassed look, combined with the of-course-I-know-it-all expression.

I realized I was now in big trouble. We had to have “the talk.” But, times have changed. My Dad took me to a BBQ joint, I even remember the sawdust on the floor, when I was a young teen and awkwardly tried to explain the birds-and-the-bees to me. I really didn’t have a clue before or after, what he was talking about. For that matter, I’m still trying to figure it out.

Kids today think they know more, but do they? So, I decided GuitarHero and I would have a two-part conversation, as I realized there were really two important components to the talk. One, being the emotional and the extremely different impact and resulting expectations that boys and girls bring to sexual intimacy. The other talk dealing with what I term the mechanics and risks.

The lions seemed to have their own dance, so to speak, but it was clear the different role each gender carried. I needed and wanted my son to respect that the girls may behave in a way to elicit the boy’s approval and attention while, for the boy, it may have less meaning and importance. To me, this was as important as discussing the mechanics, birth control, and the risks associated with heading down this path. I wasn’t particularly worried my son would be as indifferent as the male lion, but I was concerned that he’d care for the emotional impact of any intimacy he had with a teen girl. And, we did have that talk a few months back.

Bringing this story to full circle, we encountered the same lioness the next day. Evidently her tour-of-duty of seven days of mating had ended. Starving, she had just made a kill and was carrying, in her mouth, a dead warthog. In the distance, her mate of the previous seven days, was lingering, hoping for a tidbit. And, in the animal kingdom, it was clear the male lion paid no attention to the needs or wants of his mate. She had to fend for herself after their rendezvous. As a result, her interest in him was nil.

Hopefully, my teen will do a better job of taking care of his woman, if and when he gets one. But, now with some further inspiration from my animal friends over in Africa, I will finally have to have Part Two of the talk. You see, I chickened out.
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Thursday, May 14th

Lessons Of A Big Brother & Mentor

One of the clichés about volunteerism is the fact that you often get more than you give. In my case, it was in ways and means I least expected. I’ve just become a Big Brother, again, to a 7-year-old boy and a Mentor to a 22-year-old young man. As these relationships are new, I don’t yet know what lessons I will learn. But, I know well the lessons I learned the first time around.

I became a Big Brother, long before I was married or a parent. My life, at that time, was pretty heady. In my early 30’s, I had a successful showbiz career in which I was paid way too much for having so much fun, I lived in a lovely home in a chic part of town, had two cars, and no one to worry about other than myself.

Fortunately, when I looked in the mirror and realized that reality, I began to search for something to do that wasn’t so self-centered. Quickly, I rejected the usual choices in entertainment. No industry favored charities and committees in which my role would be fund-raising, glad-handing and networking among ourselves. A hands-on experience was my desire, one in which I could directly impact someone’s life. This is not intended to diss the big charities, whose purposes often are wonderful and helpful to many; it just wasn’t what I sought.

All my early jobs, as a teen and young adult, centered around working with kids; at camps, teaching tennis, being a lifeguard, or park director. Learning about Big Brothers, I went to an orientation. What followed was a pretty thorough process of vetting. I was fingerprinted, interviewed privately and in groups, filed out various forms, and asked to provide several references. Only after 2-3 months was I approved and offered a “match” with a “little.”

This is where my expectations began. I am a guy who loves to play ball, literally and figuratively. I loved going to the movies and doing pretty much anything physical, wet or dry. Finally, every activity in my life usually involved food. You eat before or after, you stop for an ice cream, plus you must debate emphatically where to go to eat.

I was matched, as luck and maybe God decided, with an 8-year-old girl. In those days, they did match men with young girls because, after all, the need for a male adult figure is certainly the same for both genders. Sadly, due to legal fears, mixed gender matches are much fewer today.

My “little” was non-athletic, hated going to the movies, didn’t care to eat much, even ice cream and, when I met her, had a minor obsession with finding out or knowing who her father was, as she was the product of artificial insemination. There was no father in her life; no dead father, no dead-beat father, no abusive father, no father, period. For the first couple of years I knew her, this plagued her.

I had to learn to accept that her interests were not mine, and try and find some kind of common ground. It wasn’t easy but the irony was this extra effort and challenge ultimately proved to be the lesson I received before I became a parent. Eventually, we did find common ground. Often, it was just a matter of taking turns, doing what the other wanted on alternate outings. But, mostly, we learned to talk to one another. I became her confidant.

Over time, she opened up about her life in a way she wasn’t comfortable doing with her mother. She told me about school problems, shared with me a substance issue she developed, and also took me through a personal journey of sexual identity that confused her much of her teen years.

She turned out to be my prep course for being a parent. What a gift; what a surprise. When I did get married and was blessed with two boys, I had similar expectations of them that I had of my little sister. They’d like the things I did and, of course, being my biological offspring, have many of my skills and traits. Uh-Uh.

Neither boy had any interest in sports. My youngest was a vegetarian till he was about 10 and their interest in food was pretty much limited to pizza. If a movie were older than they were, or heaven forbid, in black and white, they wouldn’t give it a try. Yup, they were much like my little. They were their own individuals.

While I still did my best to introduce any and every sport to my boys, I more easily accepted that they weren’t me. One was musical and the other artistic, and it was very clear neither would support me via a professional sports career in major league baseball, the NFL or NBA. I lightened up quicker and easier on my expectations, was much less disappointed that they didn’t share my loves and interests, and could better embrace and support their passions, all due to my lessons as a Big Brother.

What I will learn from my two new matches remains to be seen. I know, from the 22-year-old, who has been sick since birth with a neurological disorder in which few live past 30, that I come home after each visit thanking God for my families’ good fortune and health. My seven year old “little,” reminds me of the joy of being a little boy. Call this column an advocacy for volunteering. It is and you will be rewarded and be a better parent. I promise.
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Saturday, May 9th

Mother’s Day and the Women in Our Lives

As Mother’s Day rolls around once again, I find myself reflecting this year on the different obligations we feel towards those mothers in our lives, at different times and passages in our lives. As this is the second Mother’s Day since my own mother died, I can’t help but remember her with the fondest recollections, avoiding the sad, last, and declining years of her life when a stroke took away her sparkle and delightful personality.

Call me sentimental, but I can’t help but offer items of tribute to my mother, and just a few of the better memories, as they serve to remind and help me to be a better person whenever I think of them. My mother used to say about friends that if you want perfect friends you won’t have any. This would come up when I’d be disappointed in the behavior of a friend and I can still hear her words today when I feel let down by a friend. But, my reaction is tempered by remembering her words and the friendships she held onto for decades, by not carrying a grudge.

My mother also suffered the loss of two of her three children, something that as a parent myself, I can’t imagine. I became the only child, yet instead of being over-protective, she and my father (who passed away four years ago) encouraged me to explore the world - “go and see, do, and experience” were their words - versus keeping me locked up out of fear that something might happen to me. Contrast this attitude with the almost lock-down parenting approach of so many parents today. They allowed me to go to a ski camp when I was twelve, go away to college when I was sixteen, and to explore Europe without an itinerary of any kind when I was eighteen.

The freedoms and support that they provided gave me the opportunity to see and experience the world, and I’m forever grateful to both of them for everything they gave me. My mother always had a smile on her face, always had a kind word to say, and was always interested in people. I still marvel at the fact that I’d bring home a long-time friend or girlfriend and, within minutes it seemed, my mother would find out something about them that I never knew.

People opened up to my mother because they could feel her goodness, her care, and her concern for them. Ultimately, I picked up her technique and have become a pretty good interrogator myself, getting people to reveal things to me that they then would express surprise at doing. Thank you, Mom, as it is a terrific skill and one that brings me closer to people from the beginning.

After surviving breast cancer, she became a volunteer at a hospital encouraging other cancer victims to get on with their lives. She formed a support group that was called “the boob girls” and each year a celebratory lunch would be held in honor of surviving another year post-mastectomy. That was the kind of woman that my mother was. She is a great reminder in not allowing life’s bumps-in-the-road to define you or allow them to make you constantly unhappy.

Unfortunately, I didn’t marry a woman like my mother and ended up in an unsuccessful marriage. That isn’t unique, but what was different about our separation and divorce is that my ex-wife, the mother of my two boys, pretty much abandoned them completely. It was a shock to all of us when I found myself raising two sons virtually alone.

But, in the first years after she left, I still felt compelled to teach them to remember their mother on her birthday and Mother’s Day with at least a card; whether it was homemade or store-bought. As her communication occurred less and less, and even occasionally was hostile and irrational, I began realizing they had learned the lesson of respect toward their mother enough and now should be allowed to choose for themselves whether to remember her on future Mother’s Days. Keep in mind that we have no phone number for her, only a post office box that may or may not be accurate.

When I was blessed to meet and marry ShortRib, my new bride, it gave the boys and me a wonderful chance to start again. We could do those little and special things for her that they had no heart for with their biological mother and could no longer do for my mother, their late grandmother. So, we plant little surprises in the house for ShortRib, make something special for her, or take her out, and each boy buys or makes cards and gifts. It’s a loving Mother’s Day, the way it’s supposed to be, but I still can’t help but miss my own mother a great deal. Her wisdom in this often-confusing world we live in would be a blessing to still have. But luck and some hard work (dating was and is hard work) gave me the good fortune of finding ShortRib and having a loving mother in the lives of all three of us boys.

Bruce Sallan was an award-winning television executive and producer for 25 years. Google him if you really want to know more (e.g. his credits). When his boys were quite young, Bruce left show biz to become a full-time Dad. Shortly thereafter his marriage ended and his wife abandoned their children, leaving the state. Bruce found himself a full-time single Dad, in his late forties, as well as a returning single man to the changed world of cyber-dating. It became a classic “sandwich” situation when he also began to care for his ailing parents. He began writing various blogs on the dating sites he used as well as parenting articles for local publications. The goal of his column is to primarily focus on parenting and occasionally other issues from the male point-of-view. Presently, his column is available in several papers nationwide. Bruce lives in Agoura, California with his second (and last) wife and two boys, who are 15 and 12.

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