While stuck in typical Los Angeles traffic the other day, I wondered if my kids would ever learn to drive.

Then I thought, “Maybe I should ask, ‘Will my kids ever need to drive?'”

I know several people who never learned to drive and will never need to. In certain cities, such as New York with its extensive mass transportation system, it’s not a big deal. In other cities, such as my Los Angeles, it is absolutely necessary (as the song goes, nobody walks in L.A.). But technology has been advancing at such a rapid pace that in 10 years instead of getting a driver’s license or having a casual conversation with the Uber or Lyft driver, my boys will probably call an automated car through an AI device installed in everyone’s house. If they ever own a car, it will probably be self-driving.

This past summer, a group of us dads spent some time at a friend’s cabin. We all had different technology with us — smartphones, laptops, gaming consoles and more — and it became a game exchanging and playing with new equipment. Then our host said something I find myself thinking about a lot.

“Do you remember who was at your sixth birthday party?” he asked,

I replied, “No way, that was like 40 years ago!”

“Any pictures from any of your birthdays?” he asked.

“A few I suppose.”

He put his virtual reality (VR) goggles on me and said, “This is how our kids are going to remember their birthdays.”

There it was – his 6-year-old daughter’s birthday party in full immersive virtual reality.

What will technology be like in another 40 years, I constantly wonder. What about in another 20 years … even another five?

My kids will have plenty of pictures and videos from their childhood, thanks to our ever-present smartphones. I wonder what their own kids will say about being able to experience, not just hear about, those days and years before they were born. The sheer difference is mind-boggling.

But at what point does technology surpass science fiction and imagination, consuming all our time and focus? Or has that happened already?

Since one of the things I dislike most is driving, I am fascinated by all these new options for getting around. Technology is where dreams can arise from. But it’s also where nightmares can come from. I am both excited and scared for my kids’ future.

Regardless of what comes, I still believe driving a stick shift is a good life skill so I’ll be imparting my old-school ways on them.

I can just hear me now, “In my day …”.

+ + +

This blog post, which first ran on our L.A. Dads Group blog in 2017 and has since been updated, is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

Kids are back at school soon, and – duh – they all need brain-dead stuff like a backpack, notebooks and pencils. But my kid is special, see. My kid is a snowflake. He’s got pencils, but he needs pizzazz.

So naturally, I’ve compiled a list of the top five things (there are more, dudes, but … attention span) my special little snowflake needs for back-to-school time. Your kid probably doesn’t need them because I’ve seen your kid. He’s OK, but he’s all boogery. I can tell from the look in his eye that he’s not a go-getter. You want a go-getter? Dude, you can’t handle a go-getter if you even hesitated to answer for a fraction of a second. This list isn’t for you, Mr. Mediocre.

My one-of-a-kind bag of awesome isn’t settling for the middle road. So here’s just some of the stuff I’ve got on his back-to-school wish list:

Back-to-School Need 1. Kid Uber / Kid Lyft

Because, bro, I’ve got my own awesome adventures to be on. I can’t be bothered to drive him to school AND pick him up. That’s an EVERY. DAY. THING. if you know me, you know I have a religious exemption from doing the same thing twice a week. My life is exciting, dynamic, Instagrammable and Pinteresting. Now, it’ll be weird for a different person to pick him up every day, but I’ve kicked down a couple of extra credits to make sure they have a sign with his name on it. That way, his school will be all “oh, that’s first-class right there.” S**t, yeah, it is. Thanks for noticing.

Need 2. A Kindergarten Registry

College dorm registries are a thing. And that’s cool, but it’s getting into registering too late in the game. I’ve been pounding pavement this week trying to get retailers to give me a kindergarten registry hub. There, my son can poke around their fine virtual establishments and add items without me standing next to him in a big-box retailer asking “How about THIS backpack? How about THIS one?” And dude, like I want to discuss with my son whether his favorite color this week is red or black or green. And shoes? Get out of here.

I’d rather let the kid just register for his supplies, and let grandma and grandpa take it up with Target and Amazon directly. Since my son can’t technically read, I’m going to have to ask the teacher to make the back-to-school supplies list all pictures. Just use clip art and sight words in Comic Sans if you have to. And email it to him directly, please and thanks.

Back-to-School Need 3. A Completely Digital Ink Education

Look, maybe you want your kids (and spoiler alert, you do) to trudge to yesteryear’s drum writing in notebooks, finger-painting and looking at globes, but not me. Honestly, finger-painting? Your kid comes home with some amateur rendition of a shark (and paint on his shirt) and you’ve got to keep it on the fridge until he comes home with another terrible rendition of something else. Give us all a break. Save it to your Camera Roll and let that be that. No more Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper and 22 Pee-Chee folders rotting away in a backpack. No more pencil lead, crayon wax, paints and markers all over him. My son’s soft, immaculately porcelain skin should not be defiled with such sloppy “art.”

And notebooks? You’re going to make my child write something on a non-indexable, non-searchable, non-categorizable, non-editable sheet of paper? And then what? Go searching for the information later by flipping through pages? Nope. Do you know what’s indexable, searchable and forward-thinking? Tablets. I don’t even care if it’s an iPad or a Microsoft Surface or a Samsung Galaxy Tab. Just give my kid an app into which he can dictate notes, another app for art, and another to see real-time maps of the world with traffic, weather conditions and polar vortex overlays available.

Globes? Are you serious? Don’t waste my time and I won’t waste yours.

Need 4. A Domain

You (and you and you) clearly want your kids to grow up without an identity. Or worse, you want their identity to be mystupidkid2023, because that’s the last email name that’s going to be available when you finally come around. But not my son. Oh, no. I want him domained-up right now. I want school emails going to it. Tuition stuff should be going there. He should be managing his financial and socio-online reputation NOW so that when he’s a teenager, he won’t be worrying about starting from scratch – or worse, from whatever boner legacy I’ve left him. Terrible.

My son needs a domain, a Stackable newsletter, and a few accounts on social platforms, and he needs it now. Your kids are busy doing the hokey-pokey and turning themselves around, and my son’s surging ahead of the pack polishing off his curriculum vitae complete with an email address hailing from his own domain. God, your kids look like rookies. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.

Back-to-School Need 5. Online Major University-Accredited Kindergarten Courses

It’s the first week of being back to school and my son is already over your kids. Like, for real. Their problems are so petty. Joey’s got nut allergies. Jon can’t use scissors. Melinda has a weak bladder. Ugh. It’s s**t like this that slows down the educational process. So let’s step it up here and offer some major university-accredited kindergarten courses.

If my son’s got to learn how to tell time, you’d better believe I want that applied to his hard sciences general education requirements. And ain’t nobody handwriting anymore, so if he’s got to learn how to do it, he’d better be getting his official transfer-ready propers. And look, instead of dealing with Joey, Jon and Melinda, my son would rather just check in with the kindergarten teacher’s office hours once a week and do courses from his home office. Nothing personal. Actually, it is.

Editor’s Note: A version of this first appeared on 8 Bit Dad. Photo: © chas53 / Adobe Stock.

My journey into the world of AI-generated art began two weeks before Thanksgiving. I sat down in front of my computer to experiment with Midjourney, an artificial intelligence program that creates images from text descriptions. I entered the command “/imagine” and a message from the Midjourney bot appeared: “There are endless possibilities …”

Excited, I typed out the image in my mind:

A young african american man wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, is flying through the clouds and space as if in a dream.

Midjourney generated four versions that the beloved painter and art instructor Bob Ross might have called “happy little accidents.” In each, the clouds look like unruly cotton balls. The man has no discernible face. He also does everything but fly through the clouds: he walks on them, sits on them, or has his head lost in them. The images were garbage.

After a few days of studying the text-to-image prompts of other users, I refined my descriptions. Finally, through trial and error, I learned how to guide AI to generate images closer to my vision. I’ve turned my daughter into Princess Leia, myself into a guardian angel, and reimagined Santa Claus as Batman.

AI-Generated art and Black fatherhood

As a Black dad who blogs, I was curious to see how AI imagines fatherhood. One day I typed: young african american father holding sleeping baby, illustration. Midjourney produced four touching images that evoked my early, sleep-deprived days of dadhood when I cradled my daughter in my arms to help her fall asleep. I posted one of the images to Instagram and titled it “The Whole World in His Hands.”

The comments from other Black dads were positive. I imagine they felt seen.

That inspired me to create more AI-generated art drawing from my own experiences or those of fathers I know. I made images of Black dads teaching their sons how to tie a necktie. Reading books with their children. On date nights with their spouses. Spending time with their daughters. Essentially, Black dads being present in the lives of their loved ones. Images that are all contrary to the “absentee father” myth prevalent in news media, politics, and pop culture.

I would occasionally forget to use the descriptor “African American” before “father” in my image prompts and Midjourney would, predictably, generate images with white fathers. It didn’t bother me at first. But after the second and third time, I started thinking, “Why aren’t Black fathers included in AI’s default definition of fatherhood?”

So I did an experiment. I typed “fatherhood” into Midjourney 10 times. The bot generated four images each time creating 40 images of what it was programmed to associate with fatherhood.

Only one image was of a Black father. One out of 40.

And none appeared to be people of color.

According to AI, the default image of “fatherhood” is a white father holding or hugging a child.

“I am invisible”

The issue of bias in image generation systems shouldn’t be surprising. As digital artist and academic Nettrice Gaskins noted in a recent Instagram post: “The processes by which machines learn to recognize images is like how humans see things. Neural nets are fed millions of images from databases; they use input from humans to classify and sort image data and come up with probabilities of what the final images will be. Artists can change the parameters for how a network or system identifies, recognizes, and processes these images, which gives them a certain amount of power to influence or make decisions about which images are generated.”

Still, it felt like the kind of distortion Ralph Ellison famously described in his 1952 novel Invisible Man: “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination — indeed, everything and anything except me.”

Representation matters. It matters because it validates experiences and lifts aspirations.

That’s the reminder I’m taking with me into February — Black History Month — as I continue my artistic adventure with Midjourney. As Gaskins encouraged, I have the power to influence the images generated by AI. I have the power to widen the visual representation of Black fatherhood.

“There are endless possibilities …”

One of the ongoing debates among parents is how to regulate a child’s screen time, often with moms, dads and “experts” lending their ideas on what restrictions to set. This gets evermore tricky with the increasing number of available devices (televisions, computers, tablets, cell phones) and their mobility allowing them to be viewed not only at home but almost everywhere at any time.

The American Academy of Pediatrics discourages most screen time for children under age 6 and, after that, it calls for encouraging “healthy habits” that include limits on when and where screens can be used. The problem is, as The Mayo Clinic notes, “As your child grows, a one-size-fits-all approach doesn’t work as well. You’ll need to decide how much media to let your child use each day and what’s appropriate.”

Clearly, no right or wrong answer exists. Parents must do what they feel is best for their child in a given circumstance. In our house we’ve adopted a perspective that somewhat goes against the norm: We have no restrictions on our children’s screen time.

Our reasons for unlimited screen time

Here are some of the main reasons we use this approach, and some of our personal results:

1. We believe rationing a child’s screen time leads to dependency, even a sort of addiction. Living in a state of constant fear or anxiety that something we enjoy could be taken away often leads to an all-consuming obsession with that thing whenever we have it.
2. We don’t put devices on a pedestal. As they’re constantly and readily available for our children, our kids don’t view devices as anything special. More often than not, our two children will choose to play with toys, color or read a book over using their tablets. Since they’ve grown accustomed to them always being there, there’s never been a need to have them at all times.
3. We don’t allow an entirely free range of use when it comes to devices. Both our children’s tablets are governed by parental controls (they’re Android, and we utilize the Family Link app). We also moderate the content they’re allowed to watch so that anything they might see has already been pre-approved.

Admittedly, this approach hasn’t been entirely without issues. However, in talking to multiple other parents with a more “traditional” approach, I realized our family has had fewer arguments and complaints about devices and those we have had have been much less severe.

This approach has also allowed us to effectively “steer into the skid” in terms of how technology is being used for educational purposes. Our son is in kindergarten and like many kids, his school assigned him an iPad for classwork. Utilizing technology will become more and more prevalent as the years go by, and as parents, we want to make sure we’ve done everything possible to nurture a positive and healthy relationship between our children and their devices.

No restrictions on screen time photo: © Brocreative / Adobe Stock.

If you are a parent of a teen (or a soon-to-be teen), your child’s relationship with screens and social media probably worries you. But should it?

Two Harvard researchers who have extensively studied teens and their use of technology will discuss their findings and how parents can offer better support and guidance on the subject during a talk in Brooklyn next week.

City Dads Group co-founder Matt Schneider will lead the discussion, titled Screens, Teens & Rattled Parents. It will explore this digital generation gap, unfounded assumptions about the evils and benefits of social media, and a “reset” for adults.

The talk is scheduled for 6:30 to 8 p.m., Tuesday, Sept .13, at the Center for Brooklyn History, 128 Pierrepont St., in Brooklyn.

Emily Weinstein and Carrie James recently published Behind Their Screens: What Teens are Facing (and Adults are Missing). The book explores the complex digital universe that teens inhabit and the often misguided efforts of adults to intervene. Based on a multiyear project surveying more than 3,500 teens, their findings look at social media phenomena that prompt concern if not outright panic on the part of well-intentioned grownups. These include sexting, “comparison quicksand,” and “digital pacifying.”

Weinstein is a research director at Project Zero at Harvard, which has a mission to understand and nurture human potential. She is also a lecturer at Harvard’s Graduate School of Education. James is a sociologist and principle investigator at Project Zero. Major publications, including Time, The Boston Globe, The Washington Post and The Atlantic, have discussed their work.

Reservations are required for Screens, Teens & Rattled Parents. They can be made online. Guests must provide proof of vaccination and are encouraged to wear masks while onsite at all times. In-person capacity is limited and seating is on a first-come, first-served basis.

Often, I’m confused by the folks who are certain THEIR generation had it right.

Their mindset comes with a wild confidence that any generation following theirs is diminished, either of intestinal fortitude or common sense. They shake their fist and curse about society being destroyed by these “kids.” This new generation, yet to have any power to shape the world, is always The Bogeyman. The harbinger of the apocalypse.

Yet the folks who have been on watch for decades slide right on past responsibility and consequences. Even as a child, this seemed silly to me.

I believe I have a slightly divergent perspective because I’m part of a unique generation. We grew up in a very analog, and yet increasingly digital, world. My first phone had a rotary dial, a long spring-like cord and stayed anchored to a wall, but I also had a gaming console. In the mid-1980s, this magic box let me hunt pixelated ducks and control a robot with spinning gyros. I had one of the first PCs in my friend group, and I was certainly the first to figure out how to connect my computer, via a landline, to bulletin boards around the world, and not just for boob pictures (but maybe for boob pictures). It was a world where I’d still rather play outside than inside; however, I wasn’t exactly bummed to check out the latest video games.

We turned out all right. Right?

Over the last few months, the aggressive social media algorithms have figured out I find historical photos interesting. Now the robots flood my feeds with them. As you might expect, our digital overlords always send me ones with some sort of inflammatory caption that engages the masses.

A good example of this will be showing an old playground with equipment that now seems wildly dangerous. The caption reads something like: “I remember when playgrounds were more fun, and kids weren’t so scared. LIKE IF YOU AGREE.”

Of course, those of a certain age will flood the comments about how weak the next generation has become. I’m particularly fond of the “X happened to us, and we turned out all right,” comments. We know for a fact, though, that the generations precededing us didn’t all “turn out all right.”

I often wonder if these older generations know it’s all their fault. This sounds negative and accusatorial. It’s not. It’s meant to be matter of fact, honest and truly logical.

After all, they raised us. They sent us out into the big, scary world. Didn’t they tell us that the weird neighbor was harmless? Push us on the swings with rusty chains, and let us loose on monkey bars that were crazy high and suspended over nothing but asphalt? Who put us in the cars with no seatbelts? Cars they smoked in with the windows closed.

Yes, they told us to suck it up. They told us to walk it off. They did all this, and in response, what did we do? Did we get weaker? Did we become pathetic creatures afraid to leave the house?

Nope. We grew up. We got smarter.

New generation trying to improve, not erase

Now, playgrounds are a little softer and safer. Not because the kids are softer, and not because we are weak. Because it makes sense to try to make things better. Also, now much of the newly designed equipment allows kids with certain physical needs access and enjoy it. This is somehow “weak”?

Furthermore, why in the hell doesn’t the past generation celebrate the fact their progeny tries to make the world a little better? It seems a previous generation is only happy if nothing changes. It’s as if their time was the best time, and any other time is ruin.

In certain ideological circumstances, I can understand the divide. But how in the world does making things safer and more accessible for every child somehow signal the downfall of modern society?

I’d like to hope my children grow up to change the world for the better. Even if I don’t understand the changes, even if some make me uncomfortable, I’d like to think I’ll be there, beaming with pride and celebrating the achievements. The last thing I’ll ever do is hold them back, judging them by my antiquated standards, and accusing them of destroying society.

As a man in my 40s, the state of the world is now at least partially my fault. I’ve had at least 20 years as an adult to try and make the world better. In most ways, I feel I’ve failed. It is my hope that I at least succeed as a father, and maybe in some small way, serve society by raising the next generation to change the world. I promise not to get in their way with folded arms and a sour puss, bitching about their clothes, music and how soft they’ve gotten. 

Well, just as long as they stay off my damn lawn. 

Photo: © Jess rodriguez /Adobe Stock.

I challenged myself to go a full year without social media in March 2021.

At the time, I was recovering from the brutality of the first full pandemic year with all the polarization and fear it brought from doomscrolling through newsfeeds. I found myself constantly consuming content I wasn’t seeking; scrolling endlessly throughout many moments of my day for something to spike my dopamine levels enough to evoke an emotion.

Then I watched The Social Dilemma on Netflix. It’s an enlightening documentary about how social media is designed to hook and manipulate us. This made me contemplate all the effects it had on me. That’s when I knew I needed to take action. 

Risks, benefits of going cold turkey

However, as someone who has been active on social media since the days of Myspace and who needs to stay updated on platforms for my career’s sake, I kept finding excuses to avoid limiting my social media use.

Finally, I decided — I’d go cold turkey. For a year.

I was expecting FOMO — Fear of Missing Out. I readied myself for anxiety from being away from constantly updating feeds. But I knew in the long run, it would be good for me.

And it was.

Stopping my social media consumption gave me back so much time for myself. It made me feel liberated. And, I can’t believe how much better it made me for my family’s sake.

During the first week, I noticed how my fingers would automatically click on the folder where my apps once were on my phone, only to not find any. Similarly, I found myself typing in facebook.com on my browser throughout many times of the day. I soon realized I didn’t know how to properly be bored anymore. Any chance I got, I was spending it on consuming content.

Sleep, independence, clear-headedness

Over time, I began to do more of the little things I enjoyed. I started doodling a lot more, reading in-depth articles on things I truly enjoyed and reading more books because I would scroll less in the mornings. My sleep is better probably due to the lack of blue light from my phone. I was enjoying and controlling more of my own time.  

Another benefit for me was my sense of independence. Maybe it was the lack of unsolicited news content or an echo chamber of like-minded thinking, or even an urgency to send out virtue signaling, but I have never felt like such an independent thinker. I no longer feel aligned with any party or thought process. The decisions I made for myself and my family were truly mine. I felt free to have my own opinion, and since I can’t post, I don’t have to worry about sharing it with people that I otherwise wouldn’t be talking to on a day-to-day basis.

The adage that “ignorance is bliss” did play true here and, honestly, I really like this bubble I’ve created. It’s free of external judgment and I no longer seek virtual validation of my opinions. 

With all these changes, my mind was also clearer. I was more intentional, and with that, a better person for my family. No longer did I ignore a beautiful moment when my daughter is dancing in front of me because I was busy reading an article or editing a picture. I took incredible in-the-moment pictures because I wasn’t worrying about how it would look when I posted them. My conversations with my wife were so much more creative, aspirational and exciting as we moved away from discussing current events and topical news. I felt much more present.

Stay without social media or return to the apps?

Even though I originally felt I wasn’t THAT MUCH engrained in social media, removing myself from it showed me just how much it was seeping its way through my life. 

So what are my next steps? As much as I have enjoyed this journey, I don’t know if it’s sustainable for me.

One key thing that was missing was the sense of connection I felt with some people. Although much of the “social” part of social media has been lost, some people I connected with on social media were not people I could just call or text with. As much as I could say I didn’t need surface-level connections with people in that way, it wasn’t the case. I found myself wanting to know what was going on in their lives, their families and their adventures. I missed out on celebrating major life moments for others. Ironically, the motivation for self-improvement I received from some really inspiring people was also now missing in my life. 

So now the hard part has come:

• How can I go back to social media without losing all the benefits I gained without it?
• How can I use it for the true social aspect without consuming it like I did before? Is that even possible?
• I loved how I have felt this past year, so have I really weighed the pros and cons of returning?
• In my field of work, it could be dangerous to not understand the social environments I can market in and how they evolve if I am not a consumer of them. But is that enough of a compelling reason to return?

It’s difficult. I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. Because of that, I’m figuring out just how I will return and to what extent. One thing I do know, though. I need to find the tools and put the parameters in place now to allow me to use these platforms differently than I had before.

Or maybe I’ll just stick to this blissful bubble. I kind of can’t wait until I run into someone I haven’t seen in years and really mean it when I say, “Let’s catch up. 

Photo: ©dusanpetkovic1 / Adobe Stock.

The news seems to be filled with tragic stories about one natural disaster after another these days. So are you prepared with an emergency family “go bag”?

A go bag goes by many names. It can be a “ready bag,” “bug out bag,” “disaster survival kit,” or an “emergency preparedness kit.” Whatever the name, every family should have one even if you don’t live in an area prone to wildfires, tornados or floods. When an emergency strikes, you do not want to be scrambling to gather essentials. You want them at the ready to keep you and your children safe and healthy if you need to make a quick get away from home for a few days.

What should be in your family go bag? First, it doesn’t have to be a bag though those are handy. Bins and boxes are also good. Second, it doesn’t all have a single bag, box or bin. Smaller containers that each family member can grab and go will work.

Now, let’s see what the experts in disaster preparedness recommend to pack.

Essentials for every family go bag

The Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, and American Red Cross each have recommendations for a basic emergency survival kit. Here’s the essentials for several days worth of bug out supplies:

• Water. Obviously, not easy to carry at the recommended amounts of one gallon of water per person per day. Keep some cases of bottled water or gallon jugs handy to toss in your car. Pack a resealable, reusable bottle for each family member, too.
• Non-perishable food. Packed cans? Don’t forget a manual can opener. Protein or granola bars, though, are more portable.
• Battery-powered or hand crank radio. Preferably get one with NOAA Weather Radio channels and an alert for severe weather bulletins. My own experience, living in hurricane zones all my life, is that battery powered radios tend to be more powerful and reliable as long as you pack …
• Extra batteries
• Flashlights
• Basic first aid kit. Various sized adhesive bandages, gauze, medical tape, antibacterial ointment, hydrocortisone are essential. Add an antihistamine (like Benadryl), ibuprofen and acetaminophen.
• Chargers and backup battery bank for cell phones
• Masks. These were initially recommended to help filter air contaminated from smoke or dust. Of course, COVID-19 has changed that some. Keep some N95 or KN95 masks handy as those can serve a dual purpose.
• Moist towelettes, soap, hand sanitizer
• Toiletries.
• Garbage bags and plastic ties (for sanitation)
• An all-purpose multitool. Get one with various knife blades, screwdriver heads, pliers, etc. I always keep one in my car’s glove compartment. It comes in handy in a pinch if not a crisis.
• Duct tape and super glue. Because, as every dad knows, if these can’t fix it …
• Local maps. Your phone’s mapping apps are useless if cell service is down.
• Cash. Power goes down, so do credit card machines.

Some other things to consider, depending on your location and time of year:

• insect repellant
• sunscreen
• blankets
• rain ponchos
• matches/lighter

Of course, a change of clothes and footwear for each person is also helpful.

Don’t forget personalization, pets

So much for the general items for every emergency go bag. Now let’s pay attention to the specific needs of your family members.

FEMA and the American Red Cross recommend a family go bag also contain:

• Personal medications and medical items. If you have a family member with a medical condition or need, such as insulin and syringes for a diabetic, extra batteries for hearing aids, reading glasses, etc.
• Baby supplies. Bottles, formula, baby food, diapers, wipes, pacifiers and a baby carrier are all vital.
• Pet supplies. Collar, leash, ID, food, carrier, bowl, meds, etc.
• Copies of personal documents. In a waterproof container, place medication lists and pertinent medical information, proof of home address, deed/lease to home, passports, birth certificates, insurance policies and so on. If paper copies are too bulky, put the documents on a USB thumb drive.
• Family emergency contact info. Keep a paper copy in a waterproof bag or container for handy reference.
• Extra set of car keys and house keys
• Games and activities for children. Keep in a separate bags the kids can carry on their own. For younger children, a stuffed animal or other security blanket item is a nice touch.

Ready? Grab you bag and go when told

A family go bag is only good if you take it with you in an emergency. Keep it in a handy location. Make sure all your family members are aware of where it is. And when authorities tell you to evacuate or leave, heed their call.

Photo: © SpeedShutter / Adobe Stock.

My daughter is crying, tears coming from each eye like it’s a race to her chin. She hiccups a little when she tries to catch her breath. As a father, I feel that I have sufficiently done my job. I’m a good dad.

Little Hoss has her first cell phone.

Is 11 too young? I don’t know. I’ve been fighting this for at least two years. There was a time I was of the opinion that “You aren’t getting a phone until you are at least 16 and engaged to a nice young boy who requires no dowry.” My wife thought that was too harsh. So fine, I switched my opinion. We could marry her to the church.

“Honey, you are not religious. Like, at all.”

“Quiet woman! I’m making fatherly decisions!”

Those were some pretty rough conversations. She’s 11 though! I mean 11! She’s at that age where she still likes to snuggle with me on the couch. Little Hoss will occasionally play with Barbies if no one is looking and her toddler brother is with her. She still calls me “Daddy.” Not “Dad” – “Daddy.” 

She’s a little girl, my sweet pea, my destroyer of everything quiet. A phone is crazy talk, the thoughts of a loose father with loose morals. A man willing to thrust his daughter out into the world without any preparation at all.

But she’s a little girl who requires training bras. She goes to Girl Scouts and volleyball practice. She goes into the store and uses my debit card to grab a gallon of milk. 

My sweet pea, my little girl who doesn’t snuggle with me on the couch as much as she used to. Little Hoss has built herself a life outside of me. She is starting to gain independence.

Fuck. She’s not a little girl anymore.

This all started when we were finally able — thank you, Jesus (see, I pray!) — to break away from our cell phone provider and switch to another carrier. When we did, because of a great deal they were having, Little Hoss got her very own phone. It was free and, like every responsible father, I could not turn down a good deal. Nor can I turn back time.

We gave her that first cell phone and she immediately left me.

The string between us cut with a text. She jumped on the couch and her fingers began moving faster than a court stenographer’s. She would send me a text: “Dad, what’s Aunt Shell’s number?” I would text back. “Dad, do you have my cousins’ numbers?” I would send them to her. She is out in the world, the cold fucking world that preys on kids.

First off, how the hell does she even know how to work a cell phone? How does she know how to text?

“All my friends have phones, Dad. So do all my cousins.”

Fuck.

Thinking about putting my daughter into a convent has blinded me. I should have prepared her better to be out there. She has Google on her phone. There is internet on that thing. There are chat rooms and in one of them lurks Chris Hanson.

So my wife and I sat my daughter down that night and had “The Talk.” It used to be that having The Talk was just going over sex. Dad puts his pee pee in Mommy’s hoo-ha. They wrestle a bit and eventually your mother thanks God and it’s over. A baby eventually comes around.

But now, so much different than my own childhood, The Talk has to encompass a whole shitload of issues that I never had to. We have to go over inappropriate texts – both the bullying kind and the dick pic kind. We have to go over people in chat rooms, how some may not be the people they claim to be. That she should never go into chat rooms at all and, to be honest, I’m not sure they even still exist. But just in case, we have banned them.

We talked to her about digital predators in digital white vans promising treats and love if only she would meet them somewhere. My mind reeled. It ran from one nightmare scenario to another. And I laid it all at her feet.

I invited my wife to tell my daughter about some of the inappropriate things people have said to her. It’s a world where I have no experience. It’s rare that as a young teen anyone would say anything to me other than my dad telling me that masturbating should only be done in the bedroom, so put your junk away son. That was our talk. Uncomfortable but, hey, at least it was quick. (HA). Hearing my wife’s stories, I now have a whole list of people I have to track down and beat up. So Mr. Old Man from 1988 – I’m coming for you. We got a score to settle.

Catcalling, conniving, false promises, predators. All of it.

“Does that really happen, Dad?” she said. She called me Dad.

“Damn right. Not if you were in a convent, but it looks like that’s not an option for us. So, yes, that happens. Sometimes it happens a lot.” My tone was serious, more serious than I think she is used to from me. That’s when the sniffles started.

And to drive the point home, in my overprotective father mode, I pulled up Reddit. I went to a subreddit called /r/creepypms – which is not what I thought it was when I first saw the name of it. This is a place where women of many ages post all the creepy shit that people send them. I didn’t let my daughter read them of course. I just showed her how many there are, page after page after page.

That’s when the tears started.

So my daughter has her first cell phone. There are rules, of course. No texts without me knowing and only to people I know. No apps unless I know what they are and give approval. My wife and I have complete and total access to the phone whenever we deem it appropriate. All that and more so that at least we are sending her out into the world padded and with a safety net. And of course, if anyone from 20/20 ever contacts her, she should immediately come to me.

At the end of the talk, I sat down on the couch. Tired, exhausted, nightmares fresh behind my eyes. She came and sat next to me. She leaned over and put her head on my chest, I put my arm around her.

“People are weird, Daddy.”

“I know, sweet pea. Now show me what a Bitmoji is.”

A version of First Cell Phone appeared on Hossman At-Home. Photo: ©kmiragaya/ Adobe Stock.

The drive over the river and through the woods last week wasn’t quite as pleasant as you remember it being, huh? Then you need the best road trip apps available whether taking the kids to a family holiday gathering or on a grand vacation across the country.

Best family road trip apps for before you leave

Packr or PackPoint

Not sure what to bring? The free Packr and PackPoint apps help you figure it out. It considers your destination, the forecasted weather, the length of stay and planned activities to provide a checklist of essentials. (You can also buy “premium” versions of each with added features and app integrations for $2.99.)

I prefer Packr because it adds checklists of things to do before you leave. This includes preparing your home (take out the trash, turn down the thermostat, etc.) and car (don’t forget your sunglasses or driver’s license). However, Packr only runs on IOS so if you have an Android phone, get PackPoint.

Roadtrippers

If you don’t want to miss anything cool on the way, Roadtrippers helps find interesting activities, museums or offbeat sights along your route as well as food, gas and hotels. This includes popular (and not-so-popular) landmarks, parks, nature walks, historic sites and the odd mega-sized ball of twine. The free app will do for most, but there is an ad-free version for $30 a year that includes offline maps, live traffic info and more.

TripAdvisor

The OG of travel recommendation sites, TripAdvisor, provides a lot of reviews of local restaurants, accommodations and attractions so you can determine whether that ball of twine is really big enough to see.

Essential travel apps for driver/navigator

Waze

Seriously, who doesn’t depend on Waze? The crowd-sourced traffic information provides the best real-time updates on it all: traffic jams, road construction, highway hazard and — best for the lead-footed — speed trap and red light camera alerts.

In my own personal comparison tests over the years, Waze regularly provides the fastest path and the best re-routing when backups or accidents occur. Yes, it will occasionally offer odd alternate routes (exiting and re-entering a highway or interchange to save a minute or two, for example) when you don’t expect them. But, as I tell my wife, it’s better to yell at the app than the driver or the passenger seat navigator.

Best road trip app alternative — Traffic/map: Google Maps runs on Waze technology (Big G owns W) but doesn’t offer the robust features. The rerouting feature sometimes just doesn’t kick in. However, it works fairly well especially if you are in a less populated area where there may not be many Waze users.

iExit

Need to find gas soon at a reasonable price? A place for a quick bite? A bed to crash in for the night?

The iExit app does it all, providing you’re driving a U.S. interstate highway (and, sometimes, a major state roadway). This one-stop app gets you what you want when you need an unplanned break not far off your primary route.

Helpful alternatives — Food and gas: iExit is integrated with Yelp and GasBuddy to provide the accurate and important info you need on food and gas, respectively, but having these apps handy is good if you venture off the interstate system.

Must-have road trip apps for the kids in the backseat

Kids today are probably more in tune with what’s available for them, tech-wise, when it comes to smartphone and tablet game apps than you or me, so let them at it. And aside from letting them go wild on the kiddie stuff available through your Netflix or Amazon Prime accounts, how about …

Podcasts — Dealer’s choice

Most podcasts are available on multiple platforms these days, so fire up your fav. Then, download some eps of the shows on our list of great kids’ podcasts. Adults will find many of these as smart and entertaining as the kids so you might want to hook them into your car’s audio system.

Spotify

If music is what they want, check out the “Kids & Family” genre on Spotify. You’ll find family-friendly songs from popular adult artists as well as kid-oriented musicians. A special “In The Car” tab features playlists perfect for singing or bopping your head along. You can also find more kid podcasts, nursery rhymes, stories and more to keep the little one entertained. Best of all: you can listen to free if you don’t mind the repetitive ads, but a subscription is worth the money.