So if you’re filled with outrage and despair about the RNC spewing blatant lies last night, and it fills you with fear that they might actually win. Let me show you this:

This is an image of Moms Demand Action. At the same time as the RNC liefest, over 230 “moms” were taking action making calls to voters in Texas. And look at the bottom row. There is literally a mom making calls with a sleeping baby on her shoulder.

And that’s just Texas. They were making calls in every single state and they will be every night until the election, working in partnership with other community organizations. And that’s just scratching the surface of what “Moms” are doing.

My wife has been part of Moms Demand Action for about 5 years, and I’ve seen first hand how organized, compassionate, and dedicated they are. They are nothing short of incredible. Hell, they’re moms, of course they are.

Are you happy with the fact that the NRA is nearly bankrupt? That’s Moms. Are you happy that 90% of the bad bills proposed in state legislatures across the country have been voted down over the past 4 years? That’s Moms. Are you happy that thousands of common sense gun laws have been passed at the local and state level over the past year along? That’s Moms.

Their theme this year is “Watch Us Work.” And I watch them work and get a lump in my throat. They’re not watching in despair, they’re working. Hard. And they’re succeeding. And they fill me with hope hope, precious hope.

The only issue I have with them is that I’m not content to just “watch them work.” And I’d encourage you to follow their example and get to work yourself.

In fact…I’m running a phone banking event next Wednesday, September 2nd from 7:00-8:30. If you want to spend some time calling likely voters in Pennsylvania for the Biden campaign, I’ve love to have you.

https://www.mobilize.us/2020victory/event/309799/

So imagine you’re on a cruise ship and there’s been major structural damage. The boat is taking on water and the engines are damaged.

So the crew gets together for a few hours to make an emergency plan and then the captain comes to the passengers.

“Folks, we’ve got a plan. We’re going to have to rotate the wait staff and even some passengers to take on extra tasks pumping out the water and maintaining the engine. It will take us a few extra days, but if we all work together we should be able to safely reach our destination.”

Now imagine one of the ladies from first class comes forward to speak for her group. This is her response.

“This is supposed to be a luxury ship. I don’t see why I should have to go without the omelette station for breakfast or the chocolate fountain at night! That’s ridiculous! And if the waiters are only spending half as much time waiting on me, then why are we still paying them full salary?”

Then she sits down and is congratulated by her friends.

That’s the ship I live on right now.

I just started a new job, that as a perk provides access to free legal services. Wills and other simple stuff. It’s cool.

So…in the next few weeks, I will be having the following instructions for my funeral made legal and binding.

1. I will sign a baseball before my death. Everyone who attends my funeral will sign this baseball. It will be given to my son, Jack.
2. My remains are to be cremated. My son, Alex Nuckols, will select a hiking location where those ashes will be scattered. Alex, Jack, and their families will then take a hike/packing trip to scatter said ashes.
3. The song “Father and Son” by Cat Stevens was featured in Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2. It is to be played at my funeral.
4. Each person who attends my funeral will be given a box of Tropical Dots (my favorite candy). They are to pour the box into my coffin at the viewing, so I am buried in Dots. The people who really love me will remove the green ones from their box.
5. I am to be buried in a Captain American costume. And not one of those cheap ones either.

Due to the toilet paper shortage, we have a hodgepodge of brands and varieties. Some are very thin. Some are thick. This has wreaked havoc with our plumbing. My boys are used to Scott^TM brand, which is very thin. So when they use thick toilet paper, they use way too much, and they clog the toilet. There has been a lot of plunging and ranting on my part.

So, last week, around midnight, Alex clogged the kitchen toilet. Then, in an attempt to fix it, he flushed a second time and overflowed the entire bathroom.

Now…my boys are 14 and 16. They fight a decent amount. They antagonize each other constantly. They do not voluntarily spend time together. The basement is Jack’s; the living room is Alex’s. They do not encroach on each other’s turf.

However…at that moment, Alex immediately calls for Jack. Jack comes up. The situation is dire. Shani and I are both asleep. There will be hell to pay for Alex if he wakes me up.

Without a word they snap into immediate, coordinated action.

• Jack went to the basement and got the mop. Together they mopped up the water.
• Then they got the Swiffer^TM and wet-swiffed the bathroom floor.
• Then they took Windex^TM and a roll of paper towel, got on their hands and knees, and wiped down the entire room.
• They put everything away, and without a word Jack returned to the basement and Alex returned to watching Lost on his phone.

I only learned about this yesterday. And I find this extremely encouraging in respect to their relationship as brothers.

Shani and I got married 20 years ago today.

We’d been planning to go to Hawaii to celebrate, but last September I lost my job, so we figured we should be more careful with money. We downshifted and decided that when we went to LA in April for my cousin’s wedding, that would be our anniversary celebration. And we’d go out for a romantic dinner on our actual anniversary.

Well, the wedding has since been cancelled. And now we’re not even going to get to go to dinner.

Bummer, right? I should be sad. And I can already imagine the sympathy comments on Facebook. Well…hold that sympathy. Because after 20 years, you learn some things about marriage. And here’s what I’ve learned:

Marriage is not a vacation.

Look, every marriage is great on vacation. The two of you on your own, exploring the sights, a drink at that cute little bar you stumbled on, dinner at 8:30, share desert, sleep in, make love, wander out to find breakfast at 10:15.

And that’s great — my God is it great — but it’s not marriage. Marriage is life the other 50+ weeks of the year. Marriage is negotiating who is going to do the dishes. Marriage is getting into your car and realizing your wife left your tank empty. It’s grocery shopping and budgeting and disciplining kids and watching Youtube videos and trying to get to the gym. All that day-to-day shit, that’s marriage.

And with that said, I will say this.

I love going grocery shopping with Shani.

I love cooking dinner together.

I love putting away the Christmas decorations and getting the kids where they need to go and scheduling out the week. I love having a glass of wine on a Tuesday night and watching The Americans.

I loved washing babies in the sink of our apartment in New York. I loved painting bedrooms and sleeping on an air mattress waiting for our furniture to arrive. I loved reading the same stupid board books over and over to the boys. I loved coming home from work and having the kids chase me around the yard for “first hug”. I loved cooking on a grill for 6 weeks while we redid our kitchen. I’ve loved the budgeting, the arguments, the exhaustion, the laughing, the problem-solving, and yes, I’ve loved the vacation too.

I love waking up at 5 on a Sunday, making coffee, and reading on the couch for two hours while everyone is still asleep.

I love my house and I love the life we’ve built inside it.

So tonight, I will spend my 20th anniversary eating dinner with my wife and our two sons. We are healthy, we are safe, and we are happy. So I will gladly accept your congratulations and good wishes. But expressions of sympathy are neither warranted nor welcome.

Sending my love out to everyone who has been a part of our adventure. It’s been richer and more wonderful and more fun every single year.

Please stay safe. Please stay sane. Please stay inside.

_

Oh, and here are some shots from the wedding.

My close friend, Hal, is the mayor of a small village in Upstate, NY called Homer. And he just sent the attached letter out to the village. But I’ll call out this section up front:

“We are all going through this together. There is no playbook for riding out a global pandemic, but we don’t need one, as long as we keep our focus on one thing and one thing only: Keeping people safe and healthy.

We are committed to being here for you. If you have problems or needs that are not being addressed, I ask that you call the Village of Homer office at XXX-XXXX and tell us your situation and what you need, and we will try and find a solution including assigning a volunteer to help. Residents who are unable to get out to shop for food, need a critical repair made to their home, need an essential errand run, or need your children’s school lunches delivered, please call, and we will do what we can to help.”

And to me, this is perfect. It’s exactly what people need. Call the village — for food, for crisis, for anything you need — and we will try and help you. True to form, I got choked up reading Hal’s message. And felt deep, deep pride.

This shit is getting real. New York State is predicting the peak will hit May 1st. So we may realistically be looking at being locked down in our homes for 2-3 months. That means people are going to lose jobs, run out of food, and face serious peril.

But I read Hal’s letter and it seems clear to me that if we help each other out, we’ll get through this.

So leaders…read Hal’s letter and learn. People are scared, uncertain, and have no idea what source to believe. Hal gives them the real facts. He gives them the detailed information they need for daily life. And he makes it clear that their Village Government is there for them.

VoH Covid Memo

My birthday was last week; I just got the most amazing presents and I wanted to share.

First, Alex. It needs a little backstory.

Alex often awards me with a “bad daddy” or a “good daddy”. For example, let’s say I don’t let him order desert: “Bad daddy!” If I beat him in a game, refuse to give him money, tell him to go to bed…”Bad daddy.” I get them all the time. One time in the backyard I pegged a rabbit with a nerf football and received a string of about 30 of them.

A “good daddy” is much harder to come by.

So check out this letter.

Pretty amazing right?

Then yesterday, a package arrived in the mail. And to our surprise, Jack had ordered it.

“Happy birthday!” he said and tossed me the package.

He bought me Gerritt Cole Yankees shirt (he’s the Yankee’s new $324 million dollar pitcher). But that’s not what’s so special.

See, Jack has a job. He’s doing dishes three nights a week at a local restaurant. He got the job himself and he’s been steadily putting real money into a bank account we opened. He used his bank card to go online and buy the shirt.

And the pride he felt being able to do that all on his own. To be able to buy his father a gift.

Seeing that was pretty stunning.

That’s the real present.