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“I’m going to tell you a true story, okay?” Colette is looking at her phone but you know she is listening. You are driving her to rehearsal. She has a big part in Les Miserables. She plays the grown-up version of Cosette. (Colette playing Cosette. How’s that for kismet?) Though you saw the movie a while ago you don’t really remember the story. Victor Hugo is not your thing. Being a musical and being a lead, Colette must sing and she has been practicing a lot. You’ve heard her belting out lyrics from her room, in the shower, on the trampoline in the backyard, which she pretended was a stage. You can’t tell if she’s good or merely loud but her enthusiasm is amazing. Many members from your family are coming in to see her perform. There will be hundreds of other people as well. The tickets cost money and this is a real show. Up until yesterday Colette has been psyched. Then one of her “friends” disrespected her online, insulting her skills and some other shit you’re not sure. Usually a brick, Colette was wounded by it. Your wife told you this much. And you can see it now in your daughter’s sullen demeanor. So you have a story…

“Before you were born,” you begin. “Back when I was coming up at Leo Burnett in Chicago I was preparing for a huge presentation. It was my idea. I wrote all the copy. And I had the show to go with it. I’d been practicing for weeks. What I was going to say. How I was going to say it. I had the shit down.” Colette looks up when you curse. Good. “Anyway, the night before I’m rehearsing my presentation in front of the team. And when I’m done the head account person –the guy who deals with the client- he shits all over my work. All of a sudden he doesn’t like the creative. He’s not happy with it… or me. I’m dumbfounded. Like where’d this shit come from?” Traffic on the 101 is heavy but that’s fine. It allows you to look at your daughter. “The guy says to me, in front of everybody, if you present that work tomorrow it will be Armageddon.”

“The end of the world?” Colette asks. “What did you do?” One of Colette’s most beautiful features her eyes, big and blue, and they are wide open staring at you.

You laugh. “I told him I would make some changes. That I’d do a bunch of things he wanted and not do a bunch of things he didn’t.”

“That really sucks,” your daughter says.

“It would,” you say. “Had I listened to him. “The next day I delivered my presentation just as I’d planned it. My work. My way. And I fucking killed it. When I was done the clients actually applauded.”

“Really?” She’s serious, you can tell. You have her full attention. And something more.

“Story’s not over,” you say. “The meeting ends. My campaign’s a huge hit, right? Everybody’s shaking hands, patting each other on the back. So, I walk over to the account guy who’d dissed my work the night before. He thinks I’m going to shake his hand. I look him right in the eyes, and I say, ‘Welcome to Armageddon, asshole.’ And walk away.” You change lanes swiftly, almost missing the exit.

“Wow, that’s a great story, dad,” Colette says. “It’s all true?”

“Every bit, sweetheart.” At the red light, you look at Colette full on. She is the sassy one. The middle child. The daughter that gives your wife the most trouble. You choose your words. “If people are disrespecting you or your work, you don’t have to change.” The light turns green and you move the car forward. “All you have to be is… devastating. Redemption like that, there’s no sweeter feeling.”

In the parking lot, Colette thanks you again for driving her to practice. You’re not a hugging family but you can see it in her eyes. The fierceness is back. You watch her march toward the theater. The entire world’s a stage and you’ve given an important player some badass direction.

Author’s note: This is an excerpt from a book I’m writing, my fourth. If you like it let me know. Available for freelance as well: https://steffanwork.wordpress.com

And by the way, Colette was devastating.

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Colette et Cosette

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Not in front of the kids!

Have you seen this latest TV commercial from the Clinton campaign deriding Donald Trump? As far as political advertisements go, it’s pretty tight. Well produced anyway. The execution unfolds with scenes of Donald Trump laying some of his most well-known verbal turds: mocking the handicapped. Disparaging Mexicans. Et-cetera.

However, showing the world DT’s gross behavior is nothing new. And, oh by the way, it doesn’t work. At least it hasn’t so far. After all, the DNC tried such tactics during the primaries and it only seemed to strengthen his position as the potential Republican nominee. He, of course, would later win the bid in a landslide.

So, what’s different about this particular salvo? Well, now there are children watching Donald Trump say all these crude and stupid things. The theory being, obviously, that if we weren’t ashamed of Donald Trump before we should reconsider knowing that “our children are watching us” and waiting to see which candidate we choose to be President. Will it be the racist buffoon or (shown here in the least screeching way possible) an almost matriarchal Hillary Clinton?

Does the ad work? Well, first of all, it need only do so on the undecided. Getting the previously shameless to feel otherwise for the sake of “the children” is a wobbly argument. Plus, children have always been used as pawns during political debate. In its own way the tactic is shameful.

That all said, the spot works on me. It reinforces my belief that the devil I know (Clinton) is better than someone incapable of making it through a speech, interview or conversation without shitting on himself and countless others. The possibility of a Trump Presidency makes the otherwise depressing scenario of “business as usual” seem like the only sane option.

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The Sweetest thing! Lily and I bonding at U2 concert…

I’m a dude and I have three daughters. Immutable facts and I wouldn’t change them for anything. However, being the only male in my household has, at times, left me feeling like an outsider. For example, when the children were younger and collectively into “princesses” (or what I call the purple and pink years) I could NOT relate. I distrusted Disney before the girls were born and grew more disturbed by the “House of Mouse” as their DVD’s piled up in our den along with cheaply made castles and myriad other crap. (I’m guessing if one has boys the corollary would be armies of action figures and I can’t deny that that wouldn’t test my nerves either. Princess or Transformer, stepping on one in the middle of the night sucks equally.)

Mercifully, save for nail polishes, my girls have aged out of the purple and pink. Yet, I still must look hard for things they love that I can relate to. Like their mother, they like romantic comedies and reality TV. Guess again if you think I’m ever gonna watch The Bachelor.

During our drives together we listen to their music, Top 40, which is what you’d expect for tween and teen girls. No surprise little of it does anything for me. However, I can and do give props to Katie Perry & Taylor Swift for making solid pop songs. Additionally, these young mega stars are clearly in control of their careers, which sends a good message, empowering to young women. But I ain’t a girl.

So, I was very pleased to find the girls listening to U2’s new album, Songs of Innocence; and even more excited to take them to see the band’s latest tour, last week in San Jose. None of this would have happened, by the way, if U2 had not freely delivered their album to iTunes – a move, which, in my view, had been unfairly criticized by many of you.

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U2 show cool enough even for teen girls…

Taking them to a rock concert, especially one as notable as U2, is a moment in time we will never forget. Emphasis on “we.” In my opinion, doing this with them will resonate as an iconic daddy-daughter moment. More so than family dinners or vacations, which though hugely important, are pieces of a bigger mosaic. In the emotionally segregated domains of popular culture, with U2’s music and concert, we finally and truly had something in common and were able to share it!