Trouble in Paradise

Tension can be creative or destructive

Mar 15, 2024

Baby Girl tells me I’ve been a bit of a slacker. She’s not wrong. Although, in my defense, I heard my recent posts haven’t gotten through.

Thank you for reading Cranky Dad: Fatherhood, Life and Otherwise . This post is public so feel free to share it.

Before I get to the “thought leadership” (makes me laugh every time I say it) portion of today’s Cranky Dad, I’ve struggled with this post for a few weeks now. Trying to find the right tone. Trying to write something worth reading.

I don’t think it is writer’s block. Rather, it is hard to write something I feel is meaningful when the world is, well, so shitty. And, if I’m honest, I feel bad for feeling good. I have the most amazing wife, the most incredible daughter, fortunate to live close to my family, and have a job that is both terribly privileged and allows me to contribute to the greater good.

A friend of mine who is a legit NYT bestseller and a banger of a writer said (to paraphrase), “That is no way to live. Write.”

At some point, perhaps, life won’t be so fantastic. Right now, though, life is great even if the world isn’t. So … Let’s talk about Dr. Edith “Edie” DeAngelis.

In the late 1990’s, I led a public/private partnership focused on urban environmental issues in the Greater Boston region. Which meant I was navigating city, state and federal politics, while building a multi-sector, regional, coalition in one of the most parochial parts of the country. Our goal was to leverage public and private resources to advance urban environment projects ranging from parks to gardens to education. It was a great gig.

Leaning on her cane as she walked into the room, Edie came to every meeting ready to push and prod. She was a combative, unrelenting, neighborhood activist from East Boston who cared deeply about her community. There were times Edie drove me absolutely nuts; but, she was also kind of awesome.

In a room of paid advocates and organizers, Edie, unpaid and unbought, was the smartest among us because she understood that creative tension forced the group to focus on what mattered. If I reacted defensively to the tension, we wouldn’t get to a solution. Or worse, the tension would become destructive and the group would fracture. If I had done my spade work and understood where potential alliances on an issue lay, the tension Edie created would lead to innovative solutions that made a real difference.

Whether or not she meant to, Edie taught me that tension is the energy that resides within healthy conflict, much less a healthy democracy. It is the space where opposing forces - or sides of an argument - are in enough friction to develop new solutions. No friction, no tension, no conflict, no innovation.

Of course, tension can spiral to become destructive. But if members of a coalition are aligned around a set of principles and realize that no solution will meet all their needs, creative tension leads to greater impact.

These days, I worry we don’t build coalitions with those that we may disagree with because we want to avoid tension - or assume all tension is destructive. Therefore, we fall into the trap of creating false tensions by arguing amongst ourselves; believing we are persuading a larger audience. In reality though, arguing amongst ourselves leads to coalitions that are not just ineffective, but unable to endure the real challenges we face.

Meanwhile, our opponents lean into the tension – and conflict – of working with unlikely partners to persuade broader audiences. As a result, they create powerful coalitions of young and old, rich and poor, religious and secular, people of color and not, to shift politics and policy in their direction.

With the political pendulum of this era swinging so violently, it is a dangerous time to be arguing with ourselves. Around the world, insular coalitions are losing ground to growing coalitions of authoritarian forces. Portugal, France, the European Union, the United States, offer real-time examples of coalitions making significant strides in their efforts to undermine liberal democracy.

Part of Edie’s effectiveness was based on the fact she was an organization of one. She was relentless and had a finger on the pulse of the community. But she wasn’t hemmed in by organizational guardrails. Yet, the fact is she made things happen.

As I look back, there were three lessons she taught me:

- Be equal parts audacious and practical. In her original vision for a severely blighted parcel in East Boston along the Chelsea Creek, Edie wanted to include a ski jump. Which was certainly audacious. But she also knew that if she didn’t organize city, state and federal agencies, much less community leaders, around a practical plan, nothing would ever come of the parcel. That parcel is now a beautiful urban wild - even if it doesn’t have a ski jump.

- Being inclusive means meeting people where they are, but not leaving them there. There wasn’t a person Edie would not talk to about her vision for the neighborhood. Because she was both audacious and practical, people would listen.

- Be kind. Edie was as relentless as she was gracious. At some point I visited her at home. Whether it was in her sitting room talking about what open space meant to East Boston or after a tense meeting, Edie was always kind. I’ve come to believe that life is too short to be a jerk, or work with jerks.

In the end, what I learned from Edie and - maybe - what I have to share with others is that durable, inclusive, effective coalitions offer a practical vision for the future where a majority of people see themselves. And to reach that point, a coalition must be able to operate within a level of tension that teeters on the edge of creative and destructive.

Because, in the business of persuading people or effecting change, walking that line between creative and destructive tension is the most fun you will ever have.

Trouble in Paradise

This jabbering, smiling, walking phase is so much fun.

First of all, setting aside the cruelty of Daylight Savings Time, Baby Girl is sleeping through the night. All of us, including Lady, could not be happier. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers after my last post.

I know I am biased, but Anisa is also getting cuter.

Yesterday, after dinner and before I took her up for her bath, Anisa was playing at her “kitchen” (thank you to her Aunt and Cousin for that gift) and pretended to turn on the faucet and wash her face. Just like we “wash our face and brush our teeth” every morning and night.

The best part of our week (for me, at least) is Saturday morning when Anisa and I head to tumbling class. In that large room with big, soft, mats, a big trampoline, and a dozen little people and their parents, Baby Girl has a blast. Tottering from parent to parent, waving “Hi!,” doling out hugs; chasing her new friends through the baby tunnel; and, learning how to climb ladders so she can terrify Mom and Dad at home.

The other dads in the class look at Anisa’s fashion and flair and ask me, “Do you do her hair?” The moms in the room know better than to ask such questions — if I did Anisa’s hair, it would be a hot mess.

Finally, Baby Girl is now relating to stuffed animals. In fact, she will put herself to sleep talking to her little giraffe friend. And, early in the morning, after telling said giraffe about her dreams, when we walk in, Anisa gives the giraffe a kiss and holds it up so we give it a kiss too. It is so ridiculously cute.

The other morning, there was trouble in paradise.

See, on occasion, Anisa takes Lady’s chew toys and carries them from place to place. Usually putting them in Lady’s bed. Which, if we are going to be honest, is quite considerate for a 15-month old. Lady, of course, isn’t quite as considerate.

Because the other morning while Toya was “washing our face and brushing our teeth” with Anisa, Lady pulled Baby Girl’s giraffe through the rails of the crib and proceeded to chew its ears off.

Two things proceeded to occur.

First, Toya was pissed. Lady was on the verge of sleeping with me after winning an argument about throw pillows.

And, second, since said giraffe ears were not organic, Lady summarily puked — luckily (for Lady and me) I got her outside before giraffe ear-fuzz was expelled.

Look, this is not that last time Lady is going to eat one of Anisa’s toys. And, as a colleague told me, “At some point, Anisa will eat Lady’s toys.” (Which will really gross out Mom.)

So, did Anisa realize her giraffe friend had no ears when I put her to bed? Nope. She cuddled right up to earless giraffe-y and promptly forgave Lady for her transgressions.

Which, perhaps, is the lesson to learn from today’s Cranky Dad: Forgive and forget. Even if your giraffe has no ears.

Reading

In 1992, James Davison Hunter coined the term culture wars with his book, Culture Wars: The Struggle to Define America. I’ve been able to get to know Hunter over the last few months and he shared with me an advance copy of his forthcoming book, Democracy and Solidarity: On the Cultural Roots of America’s Political Crisis. I am about a third of the way through and thoroughly enjoying it. Pre-order straight away.

Watching

Look, Curb Your Enthusiasm is just brilliant. Just brilliant.

On a long flight I watched Oppenheimer. What an amazing flick. And, if you like Cillian Murphy, his work in Peaky Blinders is fantastic. Love that show.

Toya and I ducked away to Santa Cruz for a weekend without Baby Girl. In addition to some good sleep and good food, we saw Dune. Amazing movie.