My daughters and I were celebrating Fathers’ Day in August, a recent tradition they began when they bought themselves fishing licenses as a Father’s Day gift so we could plan a day of fishing and picnicking together. It has been great fun despite my not yet having caught a fish on this special day! This year we were fishing near the camp where I’d spent most summer weekends with my grandparents. I was shocked that I’d never brought the girls to see this place that had been so important to me through my teen years, so we took a detour which ended up feeling more like a pilgrimage. Driving slowly down the road, I felt my body travel back in time. We stopped in front of the log cabin camp with the full screened-in porch, and I noticed only two visible changes. The current owners had installed white, ornamental scrollwork along the roof lines, and the porch door (I could still hear it slapping behind me) was lavender. Otherwise the camp was the same place I remembered from all those enduring and endearing summer weekends. However, when I drew back for a wider view I realized that what had been small, neighboring camps had been transformed into two-story, expanded year-round homes complete with vinyl siding and garages. “Our” little log cabin looked like the main character in the children’s book “The Little House” (1943, Caldecott winner), diminished by encroaching and expanding development. Nevertheless, the girls thought it was cool, and they both remembered the most dramatic story from family lore, “This is the place where your grandmother fought all the bats!” It was also the place I slept on the porch on a green plastic glider couch, played cribbage with my grandparents for hours on end, and caught a lot more fish than I have on the these Fathers’ Days in August!

Pixels and degrees; by any measure the separations between us all are at least fewer if not thinner. I attended a very provocative luncheon session yesterday featuring Mitch Joel, blogger, podcaster, and author of Six Pixels of Separation. As the book’s subtitle says, “Everyone Is Connected.” In the emerging digital age of social media, those connections are broader than ever before and growing exponentially, or is it “fractally?” The presentation, less than half delivery, more than half Q&A conversation with the audience, was lively, focused, witty, both philosophical and practical (“Don’t ask what you should be doing with social media; ask why you would use it for your business.”), and stimulating. While not unusual for VT, before the session even began as we 7 at our table made introductions we discovered almost instantly that 6 of us had at least one connection only one degree of separation apart. Given that in terms of our physical social networks, image how connected we and the other 300 people are in terms of pixels!

Marissa had just turned one, and Lindsay was not yet even in the plans when we first stayed at the cottage on Thomas Pond. Built by the parents of Jill’s college friend Liz, it had the rustic allure of the film On Golden Pond. Quiet, peaceful, loon pairs, families of geese, canoes and paddle boats, no television but with electricity and plumbing. We were young and enchanted and without knowing it began constructing family traditions with unbreakable bonds and deep roots. Last week we returned for our annual stay, now less than a week but still made graciously available to us as the only non-family members having access. (The Wood family is now into its third generation of cottage-goers, so we are delighted to schedule our days whenever offered in their family calendar planning.)

Over the years the cottage has gained accoutrements of that family’s growing interests, talents and needs. It became part of our family tradition to ‘find the new things’ each year. Some where obvious, like the carpeting over the cement slab floor, or the window curtains, or the television (both a blessing and a curse), or the microwave, or the new dock. Others less so, like the can opener or the extra set of coffee mugs or the replacement screens. Of course, as the cottage changed, so did we. Our activities took on more variety as the girls moved through childhood into adolescence and now are adults. Over the years we added a trip to Freeport, first night lobsters for everyone, fried shrimp boats at the Lobster Shack at Two Lights State Park, s’mores, occasional friends adding to the mix, eventually even a boyfriend, wine tasting at the Blacksmith Winery, collecting sea glass, feeding the ducks, and watching the loons.

Every year at least one of the girls, but in a remarkable blessing, most years they both want to and can be with us for a couple of days. Last week for two days and nights, both girls managed to join us. Marissa is now 29 and Lindsay 25, and we still play “find the new thing,” still go to Freeport, eat lobster, watch the loons, and taste the wine. And again this year, when we returned home, I sprinkled a handful more sea glass into the vase on our coffee table.

Grape. Lime. Orange. Root beer. Cherry. Raspberry. We all sat around a rustic kitchen table in John Dewey’s birthplace (1859) on Summit Street in Burlington. Five boys, 10-13; two instructors; Blanche and I, trying to figure out what those words have in common according to the third instructor leading the activity. Give up? Popsicle flavors! Each July the Stern Center provides Camp Compass, a unique, off-site, activity-based, social learning experience for children with difficulties navigating their way in social situations. Through fun, cooperative learning experiences, social coaches give individuals the social thinking tools to deal with the challenges of social interactions in multiple contexts. A couple of weeks ago, Blanche (Stern Center president) and I visited for an afternoon and participated in activities with the kids. I had a blast. It reminded me of the best times when I was a principal: great teaching, learner focus, warm relationships, and exciting results. Hats off to Nancy, Mary, and Janella for their roles in making Camp Compass such a success! And John Dewey? He’s thrilled that his home is being used a few weeks each summer to create a learning experience founded on and dedicated to social interaction and its relationship to education and personal growth.

I participated in the two opening sessions of the Stern Center’s new Learning at Lunch series at Three Tomatoes restaurants in Williston and Lebanon. The topic for this initial pair was Executive Function, which it turns out is simply new jargon for old, essential concepts of organizing, planning, priority setting, time management, self-monitoring, adaptable thinking…things we all need, but many people do not acquire without direct instruction and practice. These are the skill set of our brain’s CEO, and unfortunately we begin needing them as children in school, way before our brain is developed sufficiently to actually apply them. Clearly this is an area we should be incorporating into school curriculums. While the kids aren’t likely ready, we can at least help them by our own better framing of assignments, projects, expectations. Sometimes, they really are just acting their ages! Recent brain research has revealed that the frontal cortex, the vehicle for this CEO, is not fully developed until we reach our twenties. And of course, since I was one of the few men in attendance, there was much discussion about men’s brains developing slower than women’s….you get where that was going! But, seriously, the bottom line here is that most of us misplace mail, forget an appointment, misjudge how long a project will take or simply lose track of time….occasionally. However, when those challenges truly interfere with our daily life, our work, or our relationships, that’s an indication we might need outside assistance in working on the cognitive muscles necessary to develop better executive function.

Epiphany might be the word, but it somehow lacks the full bodied joy I felt last weekend. Four straight days of family, friends, fun, food, festivities all around Lindsay and Joe’s wedding. For nearly forty years I’ve cultivated an approach to life that had left me largely an observer, often an enthusiastic one, but never an immersed participant. I’d installed lots of windows allowing me to see others and for others to see guardedly released glimpses of me, but I kept the windows shut. Until this past weekend. Lindsay and Joe’s unbridled joy, exuberance, affection, and love did more than open those windows, it smashed the glass. Father-of-the-bride was so much more than underestimating the cost of the gown, or helping choose the band, or lettering the place cards, or trying not to cry walking down the aisle, or crying while dancing with the bride. This father-of-the-bride finally jumped in and splashed around in the wonder of people sharing great joy. Going forward, I will continue to be a keen observer, but now I won’t just watch others having fun, I’ll join it!

Fourth of July in Vermont…unpredictable. Last year it was so cold and inclement that the Vermont Symphony Orchestra’s annual concert at Shelburne Farms was cut short in order to protect the valuable instruments (audience members simply layered with wool and plastic!). Last night, however, was the post card version…brilliant sunshine, temps in the mid-80s, a spectacular sunset which then brought a cooling breeze. Our private party was even better because not only were Jill and I with our girls (though Marissa was working as Inn co-director) but Joe, Lindsay’s fiancé (this Saturday is the wedding!) joined us, as did Jill’s parents and mine. Mary and Ann arrived and found space right next to us as well. Gentle breeze, warm sun, glorious sunset, intimate conversations, inspiring music, striking fireworks. A family evening for the ages. Sousa punctuated the night with Stars and Stripes Forever! He was right, and last night reminded us that family is also forever.