Tracy Shaffer
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The Trouble With FSBO

THE TROUBLE WITH FSBO.

There are a million real estate stories in the Mile High City; this is one of them. The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. This is a story of one girl’s nightmare. Me. I’m a REALTOR®. But I’ll try not to let that get in my way.

It was a hot summer in cool real estate market. The rolling boil of winter’s tax incentives had simmered into springtime and left the pot dry. Houses sat for weeks without a showing. Sweaty listing agents tied balloons to open house signs as potential buyers rolled by on fat-tired bicycles. My phone rang. It was the clients I’d put into a downtown duplex some years before; cute couple, new baby, good debt-to-income ratio and a spanking clean credit score. They were smart enough to see it was time for a move up, down to the bucolic suburbs. Interest rates hadn’t been this low since… well, ever.

We set out shopping, searching for nothing less than the dream home: that elusive slice of Americana where you know your neighbors, raise a family. And we found it, love at first sight, a bit like Bedford Falls but in Technicolor. The drawback? It was a FSBO. *bum-bum-bum-bummm*.

Now I’m a kind of do-it-yourself type dame, within reason. I don’t mind doing my nails or washing the dog but I have to draw the line at what I don’t know, like removing a kidney or my taxes. It’s not that I couldn’t do it if I had to, but it wouldn’t be in my best interest. Some folks get all DIY when it comes to selling a house, I mean, how hard could it be, ey? Stick a sign in the yard, a couple snapshots on the Internet, throw some poor schmuck a few clams for an MLS input, then sit back and watch that baby sell.

As my old pal, Joe Friday, once said, “Ah, sure, but just like every other foaming, rabid psycho in this city with a foolproof plan, you’ve forgotten you’re facing the single finest fighting force ever assembled.” REALTORS®

The problem here stemmed from a lack of access to accurate data. Zillow, Trulia and the CMA done by the affable agent who sent the Broncos schedule doesn’t give a true representation of home value. My hunch is that they took the range provided by the neighborhood expert, added 20 to it for ‘negotiation’ and called it a day. They missed the mark in this game of real estate pricing horseshoes. By 35k . When our offer came in at market value and the appraisal backed it up, they went into a tailspin. See, they lacked the two most important things in the real estate process: accurate information and an advocate. Without those two things you’re left vulnerable. Very vulnerable. Just like performing that kidney transplant with a Swiss Army knife and a yard of dental floss, it seems like a good idea at the time, but then you get in there and realize how much you don’t know.

Statistics show that 81% of FSBOs sign with an agent within 30 days, at least the smart ones. Because not only do you reduce your headache and legal liability with a REALTOR®, you actually make more money. Have I made my point? So if you’re considering a move in this hairy market, do yourself a favor and call a Realtor®, hopefully me, and ask a few questions. Just stay away from ones like “Ma’am, what is the approximate dry weight of the average Madagascan fruit tree bat” … ah that Joe Friday.

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Tracy Shaffer

Taking the “Big Leap”

I have this friend… But seriously, I do. She is an amazingly dynamic woman who came from humble beginnings and has done quite well for herself, not only financially but in the influence and impact she’s made on her community. Beautiful, charming and intelligent, when she recommends something to me I take it seriously. Earlier this month I returned from my ten days in Telluride to find a package on my doorstep with a keen and insightful little tome inside called “The Big Leap” by Gay Hendricks. I walk a tightrope between hope and cynicism where self-help subjects are concerned, most likely due to my LA years, watching people spend more time figuring out how to be themselves than they do being it. I am impatient in areas of my nature, Job in others, so when an author is able to cut to the chase in a “How to be Me”, I am grateful. What I’ve found in “The Big Leap” appeals to my Job-less side: just give me the concept and let me apply it. Gay Hendricks lays out some very simple questions that have no simple answers and then without over-explaining himself, lets me come up with them for myself. Most effective.
Three big ideas jump out at me in my Gay Hendricks experience so far: How much good am I willing to allow in my life? What’s holding me back? and most interesting, What is it that I do best?

Haven’t you noticed that when you’re engaged in discovering a new paradigm the world steps up to reveal it to you? Mostly through your friends. Seems since I’ve taken the leap, there have been a flurry of phone calls and conversations illustrating the hidden fears that hold us back: the friend whose locked in a loveless marriage, the business pal who can’t seem to get it off the ground, the ex-lover still longing to chuck it all and explore the world, stories I’ve heard many times now fall on acute ears. I ask them, as I ask myself “What’s holding you back?” and I remember every scary moment in my life has lead me to the precipice of my fear. On more than one occasion I’ve found myself back at the same damn ledge, unwilling. It is only when I’ve taken the leap that I’ve progressed, like Super Mario, to the higher level.
As I focus on preparing my play (w)Hole for production this October, I am in the midst of a final (well, maybe semi-final) draft of the script. These questions roll through the soundtrack of my brain leading me not only to a deeper understanding of the story I’m trying to tell, but to a level of courage I’ve here-to-fore been unwilling to speak from.
Writing, when done well, is a balance of the universal and the masterfully hidden personal, but when your story is told in the 3-D of theatre autobiographical comparisons are frequently imposed upon the playwright. Fair enough I guess, even if only partially true. It’s not that you’d think I was one of my characters which scares me, it is that I would be unclear in my execution of the play’s intent. And so I leap. And land at that third question, knowing I must allow it to inform me.
Jump my friend, jump.

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Tracy Shaffer

Summer, Denver Style

Saturday night in Riverfront Park, 1,200 of Denver’s finery crowd… read my latest Huffington Post blog on the beauty that walks the riverside.

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Tracy Shaffer
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After the Falls

Ten days in Telluride for the Playwrights Festival; housed, focused, feted, fed. Perfect.
It also coincided with the anniversary of my brother’s “08 death. The first year on the morning of
that day, I was awakened by a dream and a phone call informing me that my play would be produced by Paragon Theatre Ensemble this season. (w)Hole was the script Steve adored, the last he’d heard read and the one he dreamed of making into a film. It’d been developed in Telluride the month before his fatal fall so this year’s return felt as if the planets were aligned.
On a recent summer’s night I was rummaging through the vintage suitcase at my bedside, the one that houses garments worn infrequently and in private, I opened the case to reveal not only stockings but the last of the remains. My mother, my father and my brother all gathered (as) dust in Ziploc bags, inside silken pouches. What had been my lingerie chest had somehow become my dead family valise. Okay, this had to change.
Our family believes in cremation, but unlike the devout who respectfully select a final resting place for their dearly departed, we divide and conquer. The larger part of our parents have become hearty olive trees, while my brother paddled out into the Pacific to catch the last wave from his favorite surfing spot. It was Steve’s idea years ago that we each keep “A lid of mom” and scatter about the globe as we saw fit, in honor of her wanderlust. The ritual was set in place and mom has made her way into the Arno, the Seine, a grotto in Cozumel and a river in Brazil. Now dad was different, or so I thought. He’d lived for a decade in Mexico and remarried; it was his bride’s wish that the ashes stay together. Having been witness, I was certain this had happened until I got an envelope marked “Bag O Bob” from my brother’s widow. Steve, with his independent nature, had overridden the Catholic tradition to preserve the Shaffer one and siphoned off his ‘lid’ before our tree planting ceremony.
Fourth of July 2010. The boys and I are packing the Volvo, loading up the cooler and ready for the drive to Telluride. Strapping the last bike on the rack I knew I had forgotten something… The family! Bolting back inside the house, I found the suitcase key, slipped what was left of three cherished people into a Victoria’s Secret shopping bag and trotted back out to the car.
On the seventh day in the San Juan Mountains my soul was calm, my lungs strong enough for the trek and I woke the boys in time to reach the falls before the pending storm. The hike is not considered difficult, but a steady climb gaining 1000 feet in 2.5 miles, and popular with tourists. With my head in the clouds, the three of us set off up the trail bearing too little water and the weight of time upon my back. As we ascend I feel the rocks, incline, altitude and attitude with their familiar challenge. It seems I’ve been on this path for years and now I must keep moving toward the water and release. My sons venture into the future, moving deftly ahead as I contemplate the path that brought me here. I ask a hiker on the downhill what the road ahead is like and how much more there was to go, as if he really knew. Could I have imagined my life as it is today from the lower elevations of my youth? This is not the path I’d dreamed of, thought it has a beauty nonetheless. The twists and turns of the past are played out on the path before me. Earth slips beneath my feet along the scrabble as Gabriel waits ahead, granting the wings of encouragement when my pace slows. “Come on Mom, you can do this. Let me help you do this.” He is eleven, this angel child, and wise beyond the moon. The road smooths out and flattens, rises up to climb again, to an open space, a glimpse of the falls, then narrowing in focused preparation for the traveler’s arrival.
Gabe runs ahead, empowered at the sight of falling water, and joins his brother in its spray while I spot a place where the water swirls gently before flowing over boulders to the sea. I face downwind remove my pack, and bring the bones of my ancestors quietly into daylight. August stands behind me like a sentry, aware of our mission and what others may think if they saw us. Gabriel negotiates the rocks and sits, curious to know who’s who, to hold the grandparents he never knew in a simultaneous hello/goodbye. He feels the differences in the texture as we transport ashes from their baggies to the currents and one by one we set them free.
It is done. I have made it up the mountain, released the final remnants of my sadness and I’m glad I made the journey. All of it.
We play along the waterfall until it’s time to go, Gabe taking my hand and holding it quietly all the way down the mountain.
That night I felt the need to fly: my new-found levity of heart. As midnight fast approached I joined my friends in a gondola car to float into the darkened heavens. Mercury Venus, Regulus and Mars were lined up diagonally in the sky above, as the town fell small behind us. Seven minutes later we reached the tipping point. Blowing kisses to my friends, I left our west-bound carriage for my solo return; an Ugh-boot Cinderella. Silent but for the sound of tears rolling down cheeks, the Milky Way and I, vast and close, were awed by all that we will never know. Then slowly… I landed.

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Tracy Shaffer
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How Many Writers Does it Take to Write a Play?

One. But he really has to want to share.

For the past seven days, ten writers from around the country and within the Telluride community have been hunkered down at the Sheridan Opera House or gathered in Jennie Franks’ living room for a post-supper salon and informal reading. The event is the Telluride Playwrights Festival, a glorious blend of featured playwrights and theatre professionals existing in a fluid blend of rehearsal, response, reflection and rewrites with the goal of making good scripts better. Now in its fourth year, Ms. Franks has made impressive strides, attracting extraordinary talented writers, garnering support of the community and providing an experience unlike any other. As we lean into our public readings, tonight James McLindon’s DEAD AND BURIED and tomorrow’s offering LOVE ME SOME AMNESIA by James Still, I asked our two Jameses about this Telluride experience:

“I find the Telluride Playwrights Festival unique in that it’s such a small, intimate group of artists working together on these plays. Here, you have an opportunity to get to know everyone and to build relationships and trust. These are essential ingredients for any playwright seeking the constructive criticism necessary to take his or her play to the next level. I’ve also been impressed by the intelligence, artistry, kindness and generosity of the people Jennie Franks has gathered, and the result is, I think, a much better script that will performed Monday night than the one I arrived with last Thursday,” James McLindon told me over cocktails at the TPF funder at the Onyx in the Capella Telluride.
My personal experience two years ago was much like what I learned from listening to James Still. “Unlike a typical one-day reading/workshop… Being given the gift of immersing yourself in your play for 10 days is like finding yourself in a waking dream. The dream is the play you’ve written and are most often rewriting. There’s a tension for me in the fact that the writer’s creative life is a strange combination of the ‘private’ and the ‘public’. Unlike novelists who spend almost all of their writing lives alone (and then later go on book tours and readings in which they interact with their readers), a playwright spends a lot of time alone with his play, and then suddenly finds himself spending time with a big bunch of people and his play. It’s in that moment that the play becomes something else, something more. And that’s what’s happened to me this week in Telluride… I’ve spent time around a table with actors and other TPF members listening to LOVE ME SOME AMNESIA being read aloud, asking it questions, poking it, prodding it, begging it, threatening it, loving it, being mystified by it… And after several days of that, I took the play and retreated back to myself for a couple of days, shutting myself up in the condo where I’m staying and going back to that original relationship: just me and my play. It’s kind of like that moment when you’ve had house guests and you stand on the front porch and wave goodbye, watching them back out of the driveway. You go back inside the house and it’s… quiet. And different. So I’ve been back inside the quiet house that is also my play and is also not so quiet anymore. And I’ve cleaned up some messes, changed some wall colors, rearranged some of the furniture, and even discovered a few rooms I didn’t know were there! Rewriting. Tomorrow I’ll throw the doors open and invite people back in… more time around the table with actors where we’ll read the newest draft, more changes overnight, and then the reading on Tuesday. Private to public to private and back to public. It’s this writer’s life.”

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Tracy Shaffer
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New Plays, are they worth the work?

Friend and actor, Paul Page, and me high in the San Juan Mts


This is the question discussed today at the Telluride Playwrights Festival Open House and a conversation that circulates through the theatre community like a five dollar bill. I’ve popped this and a few other questions to some of the TPF participants. Grabbing a post-rehearsal snack at Smugglers with director/playwright William Missouri Downs, in from Wyoming to direct Telluride Rep actors in Phillip Gerson’s This Isn’t What It Looks Like. A prolific author and playwright, Bill has eight upcoming productions around the country and just closed the Denver hit, Books on Tape.

T- “Why do you think we keep asking this question?”

B- “To justify our existence.”

T- “Do we ask if new songs should be written, or if fashion should be recreated seasonally?”

B- “Good point. There’s been so much talk over the past few decades about theatre being dead or irrelevant. And with the Internet, we’ve got so many forms of public dialogue and expression.”

T- “Yes, but it’s not in 3-D.”

B- “We’re the original 3-D. If for no other reason than the disconnect of the internet, we’ve become more relevant. Those who want to participate in the intimate reflection of life that only theatre offers crave it. We are like books printed on paper, and campfire stories; not commonplace as the world changes, but essential nonetheless.”

T- “Like art museums. People still go to them but now they take a picture of the art and move on to the next masterpiece. We exist for those who actually stand there and look at the painting.”

B- “Theatre has got to tell stories which are universal, I believe that more and more. When your medium is about being physically in a room with a group of people for a shared experience, the observational story is less effective. Save that for film and television. Just the fact that you can’t talk in the theatre changes things.”

T-“Really, you’re not supposed to talk? What about texting?”

On the gondola with Denver actor Paul Page. “What do you like about being in Telluride?” I asked.

P-“It’s really exciting to be involved in the thought process of a new play. I’ve done many world premieres with script tweaks and changes before opening, but this is a much more raw discovery of the characters as the playwright is solidifying them. The festival really gives the script and the artists a chance to incubate.”

T-“How do you like the play you’re working on?”

P-“Oh god, it’s fascinating. James Still has created these really interesting characters and put them in a highly charged situation. We’re working through the script slowly, moment-to-moment, asking questions of each other in a process of discovering what the play is.”

T- “Plays do write themselves at some point. If you let them.”

P-“And James is so open, so talented. It’s great to work with artists from other markets. After New York I’ve spent the past twenty years in Denver.”

T-“Working constantly.”

P- “Well, yes. But it’s nice to shake it up a bit.”

We’re only a third of the way through the Festival and the energy is building steadily. Hunkered down in our rewrites and rehearsals, meeting up for dinners graciously hosted by TPF supporters, eyeing the mountains for a chance to hike, my experience of Telluride is always a balance of risk and safety. I feel held, which gives me the power to create. And I feel that is terribly important.

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Tracy Shaffer
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Telluride Playwrights Festival asks “Are New Works Important?”

Actor Paul Page and me in Telluride


This is the question slated for the Telluride Playwrights Festival Open House on Thursday, and a conversation that circulates through the theatre community like a five dollar bill. I’ve popped this and a few other questions to some of the TPF participants. Grabbing a post-rehearsal snack at Smugglers with director/playwright William Missouri Downs, in from Wyoming to direct Telluride Rep actors in Phillip Gerson’s This Isn’t What It Looks Like. A prolific author and playwright, Bill has eight upcoming productions around the country and just closed the Denver hit, Books on Tape.

T- “Why do you think we keep asking this question?”

B- “To justify our existence.”

T- “Do we ask if new songs should be written, or if fashion should be recreated seasonally?”

B- “Good point. There’s been so much talk over the past few decades about theatre being dead or irrelevant. And with the Internet, we’ve got so many forms of public dialogue and expression.”

T- “Yes, but it’s not in 3-D.”

B- “We’re the original 3-D. If for no other reason than the disconnect of the internet, we’ve become more relevant. Those who want to participate in the intimate reflection of life that only theatre offers crave it. We are like books printed on paper, and campfire stories; not commonplace as the world changes, but essential nonetheless.”

T- “Like art museums. People still go to them but now they take a picture of the art and move on to the next masterpiece. We exist for those who actually stand there and look at the painting.”

B- “Theatre has got to tell stories which are universal, I believe that more and more. When your medium is about being physically in a room with a group of people for a shared experience, the observational story is less effective. Save that for film and television. Just the fact that you can’t talk in the theatre changes things.”

T-“Really, you’re not supposed to talk? What about texting?”

On the gondola with Denver actor Paul Page. “What do you like about being in Telluride?” I asked.

P-“It’s really exciting to be involved in the thought process of a new play. I’ve done many world premieres with script tweaks and changes before opening, but this is a much more raw discovery of the characters as the playwright is solidifying them. The festival really gives the script and the artists a chance to incubate.”

T-“How do you like the play you’re working on?”

P-“Oh god, it’s fascinating. James Still has created these really interesting characters and put them in a highly charged situation. We’re working through the script slowly, moment-to-moment, asking questions of each other in a process of discovering what the play is.”

T- “Plays do write themselves at some point. If you let them.”

P-“And James is so open, so talented. It’s great to work with artists from other markets. After New York I’ve spent the past twenty years in Denver.”

T-“Working constantly.”

P- “Well, yes. But it’s nice to shake it up a bit.”

We’re only a third of the way through the Festival and the energy is building steadily. Hunkered down in our rewrites and rehearsals, meeting up for dinners graciously hosted by TPF supporters, eyeing the mountains for a chance to hike, my experience of Telluride is always a balance of risk and safety. I feel held, which gives me the power to create. And I feel that is terribly important.

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Tracy Shaffer
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Getting Realer

If this summer finds you  in or on the real estate market the two most important things you will need are a smart real estate agent and healthy dose of reality.  Sure the virtual tour and snappy flyer are pretty, but the market isn’t. Finding a ‘smart agent’ may not mean the guy who’s sent you Broncos schedules and sold your cul-de-sac for the past twenty years, or the bubble-headed blond on the bus bench. I’d rather you go with someone who has a keen sense of where the market is TODAY, not yesterday. Though our trending info charts and graphs show market improvement, no one knows  for certain where we’ll be next year. The agent who offers “certainty” is tap dancing.

With more than 80% of buyers beginning the home search on the Internet prior to contacting an agent, consumers no longer rely on Realtors to provide them with all the information, we now co-create the experience.

Buyers and sellers both benefit by seeking out an agent who can effectively gather and interpret all available information to define the goals and strategies before and during the transaction.  Being a good real estate agent is part instinct, part industry and finding one who does it as a full time job is a good sign they know the realities of today’s market. The key is to have an agent who is not afraid to tell you the truth.

Consider these examples of three areas where a reality check would be helpful.

1.) PROFIT.  A high-end home in one of Denver’s most desirable locations. The sellers have improved it considerably and have lived there long enough to have built some hefty equity.  Ideally they’d like to turn a nice profit and take advantage of the value available in the middle of the market to purchase a larger house in a more modest neighborhood. The problem here is that their beautiful home is sitting in line in the million dollar price point where the inventory is stockpiled to 365+ days on market with fewer banks approving  jumbo loans (over $417k). Experienced ‘flippers’ , they are not novice to the real estate transaction, so it seems logical to apply the strategies they’ve always used to sell their flips. Savvy as they are, it would be more effective to spend a bit of that equity and hire an agent with the skills and resources to reach the broadest pool of potential buyers increasing their ability to compete in a glutted market. Will they sell? Eventually. Will they get top dollar? Statistics say probably not. Will they achieve the desired outcome in the allotted time frame? Well, school starts in August…

2.) PRICE. Seller wants to sell a suburban home. Their segment of the market would be considered a balanced market with only five months of inventory, but even with its unique features the house needs some upgrades and is not selling. Though the home feels too big for the family and they’d like to move into a more manageable townhouse, there is little likelihood they’ll reach their goal if they don’t get real about the price. Here is where a realistic Realtor tells the tricky truth: A house is not a product, like a hamburger, so marketing alone will not sell it. Your house is an emotional commodity. It is worth what a buyer is willing to pay for it, not what you’d like to net. Harsh as it is, if you need more down on your new place, you’ll have to figure it out. Improved the property and trying to cover the cost? Forget about it. Stop living in your own personal snow globe and put yourself in a buyer’s shoes. Would you pay more because it’s what the seller needs? No, you’ll either keep shopping for the bargain you feel good about, or pay more for the neighbor’s house with the upgrades already in place.

3.) PRESSURE. As missed mortgage payments stack up, so does the stress. You’ve done all you can to keep up, postponed the pit a year ago with a loan modification but it’s still too much. You hire a knowledgeable agent who is able to convey your options and the pros/cons of each strategy and you decide on pursuing a short sale. Experience and market chops tell your perspicacious agent that there’s not another house in the neighborhood like yours and she’s right. Within a week four offers come in, forcing a bidding war on a ‘highest and best offer’ deadline. She gets more than she asks for, but the bank is further along in the foreclosure process than you realized. Reality bites. Better the sting of the short sale than the heartache of foreclosure, but time must be on your side.

The housing market always has a bit of the “smoke and mirrors” to it (not to be confused with a house with smoked mirrors). Sorting through opinion, sales tactics, experts and statistics to glean the facts can be a daunting task for the smart consumer and agent alike. Research is only as good as the information you come up with and strategies are often based on information. Try to make sure you do your work and find someone  willing to do theirs as well, and don’t replace the real estate bubble with a real estate Bubble-head.



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Tracy Shaffer

Keep it real… really.

What a week of paradox it’s been. As one thing falls apart, another comes together; bank approval here, foreclosure sale postponed there, and just when you feel the darkness, a double rainbow hurls itself into your horizon. Sometimes events and their contrast seem to flurry in such rapid succession, don’t they? During these accelerated moments it’s easy to get thrown off balance, wanting only to slow down to get a grip on the grounding cord. To be alive is to be in the midst of life’s energetic ebb and flow, the question is do we have to create turbulence where it need not exist?

The real estate business, like politics, always works for someone; it’s all a matter of perspective. As we buyers, sellers and agents move from under contract to closing there are negotiable moments where we work to create smooth win/wins for all and most of the time we are successful. Other times more closely resemble the Senate floor, where tactical goats butt heads in a loud and dizzying attempt to confuse the opposing strategy. To what end? What I recall from reading Sun Tzu’s Art of War in the ’80s can be summed up in a few quotes, this being one, “Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.” When we get caught up in our need to win the present battle, so many times we lose the war and all of this stems from our loss of the larger picture. What are we fighting about, really? A garage door opener? A few thousand dollars that now have been given the power to stand in the way of achieving our larger goal?

Sometimes we fight for the principal of the matter, or we’ve been drawn into battle in self-defense. But what’s the underlying need? Our larger social conditioning is chock full of tales of battle. We worship warrior gods and punishment, inuring ourselves to the battleground we’ve made of life.

Theatre is another area where politics, strategy and tactics reign, most often in the pursuit of emotional real estate. This kind of drama is suited for the stage, in fact it cannot hold without it. But to manufacture senseless drama in our own lives is a misplaced tragic comedy, there are enough real problems that are worth the fight. We can choose to do better. Experience has taught me that though it may feel like the enemy, each event holds opportunity to enhance life if you let it. (Note to self: never argue with a hater.)

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Tracy Shaffer

Father’s Day: it’s not for the faint of heart.

Sunday morning and the boys are still in bed. That’s good. Eventually they’ll raise their sleepy heads and realize it is Father’s Day with their dad no where in sight. I never wanted to be a father; being a mother is challenging (and rewarding) enough, thank you. I hold the roll in high regard and though I am a very capable woman, that job is completely beyond my ken. Today we honor the men who made our existence possible, trace their footsteps and the imprint they’ve made on our lives, I’m drawn to reflect on my father and on the father of my children.
My dad was a child of the Depression, my ex, a depressive. Dad stayed. Whether it was influenced by his own father’s absence during World War I or because doing what you said you were going to do is one of the defining characteristics of “The Greatest Generation”, I don’t know. But like getting up early on Saturday to mow the lawn, sweep the pool and wash the car, raising your children was just what you did; non-negotiable. Although they did eventually divorce, my parents waited until I, the youngest, was out of school and ready to fly. Well, ready to test my wings at least. My relationship with my father has provided some deep and lasting benefits and I’ve learned from his wisdom and his foibles alike. He worked in the movie business; animation, optical illusions & special effects at one point in his career. He’d tell me how a TV Jeannie got into the bottle or how Mr. Limpet stayed out of the drain, and the knowing took a little magic out of the movie, but it also taught me things aren’t always what they seemed. He drummed a few choice phrases into my head: “Life is always going to have it’s problems, Trace. Become a master at solving them.” and his perpetual query, “How’s your attitude?”. At one time I found this annoying, now I find myself beating the same drum into my sixteen-year-old’s cerebral cortex. Bob taught me to show up and stay in the game.

I logged into Facebook this morning and scrolled through the tomes to fathers, living and dead, I saw generous shout outs to mothers who played both roles and I wanted to post “Happy Fathers Day, especially to those who stayed in the game” choosing otherwise, for fear the lack of context might tip the post to the realm of the critical & bitter. I am neither and work very hard not to be. The vagaries of life being what they are, I’m not sure I ever truly believed that marriage lasts forever, but I do think parenthood ought to.
It is difficult to conceive of fathering by phone. How does that work? I know far too many single mothers with the same story of inconsistent or non-existent fathers, and I’m sure there are stories that work the other way from the male perspective. Life is hard, yes, but barring a situation where safety is involved, families work things out and remain families long after marriages end, or end and begin again. That was my belief, that schedules, finances and responsibilities are negotiated so that children don’t become the detritus of a once happy union. I can’t imagine, (though at times I do admit I fantasize) choosing a life without my sons; moving to Paris, trekking in Nepal or slugging it out on the streets of Manhattan as if what came before had never happened. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all muddle along doing the best we can, but do we really? Can’t we always do better? I think we can. Even under duress, I know I can. Because that is what my father taught me… Happy Father’s Day.

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