TL;DR

I turned 39 on March 22. To celebrate, I will move my body 39 miles on May 20 with the goal to raise money for transgender rights. I need your help and request that you sponsor me with a donation to the National Center for Transgender Equality. Take a screenshot and/or send me details of your donation via email, Twitter, Facebook, Mastodon, or Instagram and I will track how much we collectively raise. Please consider sharing this page with #39for39 so we can reach as many people as possible.

BONUS: if we raise $1000, I will make up last year’s missed 38-mile birthday walk on the following weekend. And if we raise $2000, I will make up my missed 34-mile birthday walk on the preceding weekend.¹

Read below and follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Mastodon, or Instagram for updates.

Motivation

I turned 39 on March 22. While I have faced normal hardships during my life (as have all humans), my existence and value have never been questioned as a 6'2", blonde-haired, blue-eyed, straight, white male with a Ph.D. Unfortunately, a lot of people in our country do not share that same privilege. Recently, there has been a renewed effort to deny the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness of our transgender neighbors. After nearly four decades on this Earth in America, I am fucking tired of elected leaders, “just-asking-questions” faux intellects, hypocrites, and feigning-victimhood billionaires working to make people hate their neighbors—moving from one targeted minority to the next—to distract from their abysmal records, overcome unpopular ideas, and line their pockets.

All things considered, life is pretty good for me. In lieu of gifts, I started walking my age in miles for my birthday to raise funds for charity: OK Foster Wishes in 2016, Teen Recovery Solutions in 2017, Christmas Box International in 2019, several in 2020, and Team Beans in 2021¹. As I wrote previously, I love walking/jogging/running because it allows me time to think and enjoy nature. I want to do the same this year and I need your help.

Help me support transgender rights by donating to the National Center for Transgender Equality.

The National Center for Transgender Equality advocates to change policies and society to increase understanding and acceptance of transgender people. In the nation’s capital and throughout the country, NCTE works to replace disrespect, discrimination, and violence with empathy, opportunity, and justice.

NCTE has racial and economic justice initiatives, operates a legal services network, and offers supports to transgender people, their families, and allies. Their website: has helpful information for those who want to learn more about transgender people, helps transgender people understand their rights, and gathers information about existing laws and policies that affect transgender people.

So, join me—let’s condemn hate and support those working for the targets of such hate.

The Goal

My goal is 39 miles for my 39th birthday in an effort to collectively raise money for the National Center for Transgender Equality.

Can I Do It?

Yes. You can trust that I will honor my commitment of 39 miles. Why?

I completed the 2012 OKC Memorial Marathon through a combination of walking and jogging. In 2016, I participated in a team for Run The Year and finished with an individual total of 1,600 miles. I also completed birthday fundraisers for my 32nd, 33rd, 35th, 36th, and 37th birthdays. I am notorious for setting crazy goals and seeing them through. Life is short. 39 miles is even shorter.

Details

I plan to move my body 39 miles on Saturday, May 20. That will give me around 8 weeks to get in shape, continue training, and solicit donations. Donations will be tracked through the end of May.

I never concern myself with speed. My knees are getting old enough that running a majority of the miles is unlikely. I prefer a deliberate walk and jog. I am not an athlete, so do not expect world record speeds. I estimate that it might take me 10-11 hours. The main thing is that I will finish.

Donate

Donate directly to the National Center for Transgender Equality

Send me a screenshot or details of your donation via email, Twitter, Facebook, Mastodon, or Instagram and I will keep track of how much we collectively raise. In return for your participation, I will make my body move 39 miles on May 20. Together we can do our small part to fight for our transgender neighbors.

BONUS: if we raise $1000, I will make up last year’s missed 38-mile birthday walk on the following weekend. And if we raise $2000, I will make up my missed 34-mile birthday walk on the preceding weekend.¹

Please Share

I would appreciate if you would share a link to this page using #39for39.

Keep Updated

Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Mastodon, or Instagram to follow our progress.

Thank You

Your donation will help the National Center for Transgender Equality and I am very thankful for your support and generosity.

Similar to last year, and in years prior, I asked Campbell what it felt like to turn six. In a low, drawn-out voice he said, “Daaaaad, you don’t have to ask me that. You are going to embarrass me!”

During the earliest parts of the pandemic, I was in the first year of restarting my life and didn’t have a lot of material things. So my boys and I started making heavy use of the library. We checked out and read untold hundreds of books. Campbell fell in love with one story in particular about a famous premature hippo named Fiona. He insisted that we read everything possible about Fiona. We even watched her live-cam at the zoo. Campbell really wanted to visit Fiona, but COVID restrictions made that impossible. Campbell, however, kept Fiona close to his heart over the next couple of years.

As we were planning activities for summer of 2022, Campbell leaned in and softly asked, “Dad, can we visit Fiona?” The pandemic had waned enough that we decided to make an epic road trip. We drove nearly 2,000 miles through seven states—we visited caves and the Gateway Arch in Missouri, ate ice cream in Indiana, visited the Zoo and a Museum Center in Cincinnati, had dinner in Nashville, and picked out some new stories from a bookstore in Memphis. But that zoo trip, it was the reason we went. Campbell was excited. Buzzing. He and his brother got their faces painted at the entrance, with Campbell sporting a hippo motif so Fiona would feel comfortable when she met him, of course. It was time. We walked to see the star of the show. And it was worth every step, every mile, and every year it took to get there.

Campbell was so sweet to Fiona. He introduced himself formally, and then watched with fascination for a long while because time stopped working. Campbell asked me if I was seeing everything he saw—Fiona zooming around the pool, her dad making loud noises and playing with her, and her mom gently showing affection in between. Suddenly, Fiona came over and introduced herself formally and watched Campbell with fascination for a long while. If you had told a younger me that one of the happiest moments of my life would reveal itself through the joy of a five-year-old child as a small hippo manifested herself from the dreams of a book into the depths of his heart, I would not have believed you. But there we were and I will never forget it. My heart grew bigger by the amount of love that Campbell carried for a hippo.

It was a big year for Campbell—you see he grew four inches taller. He graduated from Pre-K and started kindergarten, where he is excelling. His passion for art and creating things is unrelenting (our walls feature many of his prized works) and I am amazed at how many ways a cardboard box can be repurposed. Campbell is a generous person—never passing an opportunity to get or make people gifts just because “they might like it.” Campbell is still a fierce defender of right and wrong, and his compassion for others remains the best gift he offers. Campbell stopped playing soccer and started jiu jitsu this past year. He really enjoys himself and seeing a big smile on his face when he spars with his classmates is really quite delightful. Campbell remains his own person. He loves Bluey, princesses, pink, purple, and animals. And even when kids might make fun of those things on occasion, we talk about it and decide that his joy is for him to hold and not for others to take.

Campbell is full of energy. Although I am accused of being partially responsible for supplying that energy, it is a lot for even me. Campbell is go-go-go. Asking questions, telling stories, singing, dancing, running, laughing. There is rarely a moment of repose while Campbell is awake. So it still catches me off-guard when we are sitting calmly at the end of a day—maybe watching a show or listening to music—and I hear a slight voice say unprompted, “Dad? I love you.” And I know that time is painfully fast and Campbell will continue to grow into himself and I will continue to embarrass him. But I will still ask how it feels to be one year older.

I love you, too, buddy.

Happy Birthday, Campbell.

I have been fortunate to earn several cool titles in my life, but eight years ago my son Everett gave me the best job in the world and the title for which I am most proud to have obtained—“Dad”. Everett joined the world at 4:45a, which was a harbinger for his unrelenting desire to tackle the day (tired dad be damned). His arrival gave my life a meaning that it had been missing, and I have walked around with my heart outside of my own body every day since.

As it was last year, COVID-19 has continued to rob Everett of many experiences. However, I also like to think it has provided us an opportunity to create new experiences that may not have been a thought in the absence of this pandemic. We have taken the occasion to go camping, find new hiking spots, take road trips if even just to look at leaves, make art, build LEGO, and make lasting memories in unique ways. While I certainly had a deep sense of worry, I am so happy that my son was able to return to in-person instruction at school (like his father, he hates virtual days). He regained a part of himself that had been taken the year prior and I am so glad to see him continue to blossom.

Everett is academically talented. He is proficient in math, has taken an interest in visual coding, and is a voracious reader. He will also recite facts until your ears fall off. However, no matter how many times I hear “Daddy, can I tell you something?”, I always look forward to seeing his enthusiasm when he shares some new tidbit of knowledge. Everett’s excitement in exploring his world helps stave off the cynicism that comes with the professionalization of things I once loved for their own sake. He makes me a better scientist even though he has no idea he is doing so.

I am also excited to see Everett’s development as a human. He is a genuinely good person—kind, empathetic, generous, and deferential to a fault. There is not a single situation in which he fails to consider how his interactions or choices will make other people feel. He is also a wonderful big brother to my younger son Campbell. While he likes to complain about the annoyances that come with a younger brother, I routinely catch him in quiet moments sharing his belongings and heart—offering access to his prized toys or to his brotherly comfort. He makes me a better person just by being himself.

As I wrote about for Campbell’s recent birthday, I was so happy to include Everett in other parts of my life involving my dear friends and loved ones this year. We had a cat-warming party, attended momentous birthdays, came to just-because get-togethers, picked out a Christmas tree, and a had a great New Year’s Eve with family. I was happy because Everett got to see me with the people I love, and they got to see him for the wonderful person he is and why I love him so dearly. As I said then, I feel like I finally understand what is important in life and what it means to live a life worth living.

I sometimes catch myself getting lost in photos from Everett’s younger years—thinking of times when I held his tiny hands, changed his diapers, bathed him, sang to him, or carried him on my shoulders. Even though I am sad about the cruelty inherent in the forward march of time, I am equally joyful at the thought of seeing what opportunities and successes Everett will seize from his life ahead. I can only hope that I am fortunate enough to share in as many of those years as possible.

Everett has been my “bud” for eight years and I am so incredibly proud to be his father. His love and goodness motivate me to serve him in this job that he gave me as best as I can so that someday down the road, after I am gone, Everett might reflect on our time together and feel proud that I was his dad. My main wish for Everett is that he believes in himself as much as I believe in him, and as much as I know he believes in me. How it ever happened that a flawed goober of a nerd should be granted the love of a son like Everett is beyond my comprehension. All I can do is love him back with the same ferocity.

And I do so love you, buddy.

Happy Birthday, Everett.

“I don’t have to take a nap anymore because I am five years old.”

This is what my son Campbell told me today when I asked what it felt like to turn five. That’s him—there is no time for a nap because he needs all of the hours in the day to fit in as many experiences as possible. He lives life big.

Campbell also feels big emotions and sometimes we butt heads. But that’s because I also feel big emotions. And we just want each other to understand. A lot of his emotion is rooted in a deep sense of compassion that he gifts the world, and along with it a very rigid understanding of right and wrong. He hurts when others hurt, and is a fierce defender of anyone or anything he believes has been wronged. That makes me proud.

He is also confident in himself and does not hide or change what he likes, even as he is beginning to see that some kids have abandoned their own in service to their parents’ imposed ideas of, e.g., gender norms. He loves, loves, the color pink. It is an awesome color! And he loves Disney princesses and baby dolls. When he was barely two-years-old, we would visit the Discovery Gateway Children’s Museum in Salt Lake City and he would immediately find the dolls, put them in their bed, and cover them up. This year we visited the local animal shelter to adopt two cats. Campbell was immediately drawn to a small kitten (who he later named Porcupine) and demanded that we take her home. I asked later why he picked that particular kitten. He said, “She wanted out of there and I told her she was coming with me!” You see, he is a natural caregiver. That also makes me proud.

Despite another year dominated by the COVID-19 pandemic, Campbell was resilient and grew so much (more than 3 inches in the vertical and an untold amount as a human). He has been mastering the alphabet, embracing various art forms, listening to all kinds of music, and learning about history. His curiosity is at an all-time high. In fact, I have heard my name a record number of times this year. “Dad, who …”, or “Dad, what …” or “Dad, where …” or “Dad, when …” or “Dad, why …” or “Dad, how …”. Just when it feels tempting to lose patience, he slips in a standalone, “Dad”. I’ll respond, “Yes?”, and he’ll say “I love you.” And my heart melts and I am left amazed that this little part of me went from not existing to loving me despite all of my many faults in such a short time.

That time is swift and unrelenting. I wish it would slow down. I joke with Campbell that I will put a brick on his head to stop him from growing so that he has to stay small forever. As much as I am filled with a bittersweet feeling of loss for his baby and toddler years, I am equally excited to watch him develop into his own person—to discover who he is and explore his world. This past year, I have been fortunate to expose Campbell to the other parts of my life—namely my friends and colleagues. I wish that hadn’t taken so long, because in those moments when he connects with the people who also mean a lot to me, I feel like I finally understand what is important in life and what it means to live a life worth living.

Although I am charged with raising him and guiding him to adulthood, he doesn’t realize that he has been making me a better me. I hope he successfully refuses to accede to life’s unrelenting push towards cynicism and apathy and expectation. I hope he always keeps these beautiful parts of himself unchanged and unhidden. Because I hope to one day grow to be as good of a person as he is today.

Happy Birthday, Campbell.

There he stands outside of my house, a ghost at the door. Strangely, he knocks.

He passed from my life more than a quarter century ago, but today he looks of flesh and bone, feeble and aged.

I do not remember his voice, but his eyes are unmistakable. They are sad and weary, soft and hopeful. They are my eyes.

I am no longer a man. I am a ten-year-old boy. And I am frightened.

I close the eyes that we share and wish him away. I wish him to remain a ghost, scary as they may be, because sometimes people are scarier.

But here he stands. And here I stand. And I have things to say.

I tell him that I resent all of the pain he caused me; I tell him that I do not blame him.

I tell him that I made it without him; I tell him that I could not have made it without the gifts he gave me.

I yell and ask him why he failed me; I yell and ask the world why it continues to fail him.

I tell him of the turmoil he has caused my mind; I tell him that I want nothing more than for him to have a quiet mind.

I tell him that I hate him; I tell him that I still love him with a son’s heart.

I tell him that I care about him and want him, just not enough to overcome how little the world cares about him.

My voice fails so I tell him nothing. My voice fails so I tell him everything.

Am I to be haunted with regret for having not opened the door? Am I to be haunted with the regret of having opened the door?

I am frozen, hand on the door, inches from this spectre who silently promises a father’s comfort to his hurting child.

And I know that he cannot pass through. Cruel, because soon he will pass. Because our time together has already passed.

And in this moment, we as we pass.

So he stands outside my house, a ghost at the door. And I stand inside my house, a ghost at the door.

thanks to the great Kathryn Ordiway for editing this work.

TL;DR

I turned 37 on March 22. To celebrate, I will move my body 37 miles on May 2 with a goal to raise money for pediatric cancer research in honor of baby Francesca “Beans” Kaczynski. I need your help and request that you sponsor me with a donation to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. Take a screenshot and/or send me details of your donation via email, Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and I will track how much we collectively raise for Team Beans. Please consider sharing this page with #37for37 and #TeamBeans so that we can reach as many people as possible.

Here are several ways you can contribute:

• Donate directly to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute
• Buy a Beanie for Team Beans
• Support Danielle Pourbaix’s PMC Winter Cycle

Read below for more details and follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for updates.

Motivation

I turned 37 on March 22 while still in the midst of a global pandemic. Despite the circumstances, I am reminded that I have two great children, know true friendship, am healthy, and get to do science for a living at a job that affords me the flexibility to work from home. All things considered, life is pretty good for me. In lieu of gifts, I started walking my age in miles for my birthday to raise funds for charity: OK Foster Wishes in 2016, Teen Recovery Solutions in 2017, Christmas Box International in 2019, and many more in 2020¹. As I wrote previously, I love walking/jogging/running because it allows me time to think and enjoy nature. I want to do the same this year and I need your help.

I started following the work of Andrew Kaczynski as a graduate student, when he was a young reporter at BuzzFeed. He has since moved to CNN, where he continues to hold accountable those in positions of public trust. Last year, Andrew and his wife Rachel shared that their baby daughter Francesca was suffering from cancer, specifically atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumors (ATRT), and that their family was moving to Boston for her treatment at Boston Children’s Hospital. I enjoyed the many updates that showed a child who loved life, even in the face of suffering that we healthy adults can only imagine.

Unfortunately, Andrew announced on Christmas Day 2020 that Francesca had died of complications from cancer on Christmas Eve. As a father of two young boys, I can only imagine the heartache and pain that Andrew and Rachel must bear each day. I remember crying as I read the beautifully written obituary:

In her short life, Francesca was an outgoing, bold and curious baby. She had huge, deep brown eyes that followed whatever her parents were doing. She loved eating and being held close, particularly in the evenings.

…

Francesca showed her parents a kind of love they never knew before and they will never forget it.

Since Francesca’s death, her parents have become devoted advocates for pediatric cancer research so that other children may be saved and their families spared the horror of outliving their child. Andrew recently detailed his family’s journey and outlined what he believes must be done to help others. Part of this effort is fundraising. Andrew and Rachel have helped raise over $750,000 to help fight ATRT and other pediatric cancers. This fundraising mission is called Team Beans, in honor of Francesca’s nickname. So, join me and let’s do our part to help improve pediatric cancer research.

The Goal

My goal is 37 miles for my 37th birthday in an effort to collectively raise at least $500 for Team Beans (although I think we can raise much more).

Can I Do It?

Yes. You can trust that I will honor my commitment of 37 miles. Why?

I completed the 2012 OKC Memorial Marathon through a combination of walking and jogging. In 2016, I participated in a team for Run The Year and finished with an individual total of 1,600 miles. I also completed birthday fundraisers for my 32nd, 33rd, 35th, and 36th birthdays. I am notorious for setting crazy goals and seeing them through. Life is short. 37 miles is even shorter.

Details

I plan to move my body 37 miles on Sunday, May 2. That will give me around 6 weeks to continue training and solicit donations. Donations will be tracked through the end of May.

I never concern myself with speed. My knees are getting old enough that running very long is unlikely. I prefer a deliberate walk and jog. I am not an athlete, so do not expect world record speeds. I estimate that it might take me 10-11 hours. The main thing is that I will finish.

Donate

Here are several ways you can contribute:

• Donate directly to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute
• Buy a Beanie for Team Beans
• Support Danielle Pourbaix’s PMC Winter Cycle

Send me a screenshot or details of your donation via email, Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and I will keep track of how much we collectively raise for Team Beans. In return for your participation, I will make my body move 37 miles on May 2 around Lake Stanley Draper in Oklahoma City. Together we can do our small part to fight for pediatric cancer patients like Francesca.

Please Share

I would appreciate if you would share a link to this page using #37for37 and #TeamBeans.

Keep Updated

Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram to follow our progress.

Thank You

Your donation will help Team Beans and I am very thankful for your support and generosity.

“Technically, I am going to be eight next year. But I still feel like I am six.”

I asked my son Everett how it felt to be seven years old and his response was on-brand: always looking ahead to the next thing to conquer, while remaining grounded in the present.

Seven years ago yesterday, I was a post-doctoral researcher working on a problem with my now colleague Dr. Lou Wicker. I left work to attend a final check-up before our son was due to be delivered. It turned out that his mom was already in labor, so she was admitted to the hospital. In what now seems funny, I matter-of-factly emailed Lou to naively tell him I would have to get back to him in a week because we were having a baby. Dear reader, I did not get back to him.

Everett made his mom work really hard, but he eventually joined us the next morning at 4:45a on February 21. It was at that time I assumed the best role I have ever held—dad. I remember watching his birth and not feeling sparks of magic or fireworks of fatherhood, but rather a general sense of being overwhelmed with awe. Even when holding him for the first time, it did not feel real. But real it was, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. While I am naturally a guarded person, I have walked around with my heart outside of my own body every day since.

When it was time to leave the hospital, I was tasked with driving Everett home since we had taken separate cars and I had the car seat. I have never driven more slowly or carefully than I did that day. Every bump ahead or fellow driver was a potential enemy of my new son and I would have none of it. When I arrived home, we put him in a mamaRoo infant seat so that we could bring in items from the hospital. I stopped and looked at him, and in that moment felt the combined weight and happiness of my new reality—my goodness, I am in charge of another life!

As I wrote on my youngest son Campbell’s recent birthday, it has been a tough past year, due in part to COVID-19. Everett had enjoyed most of his first year of kindergarten in 2019-2020 before the virus relegated him to virtual learning, where he has remained into the first grade. He misses going to the science museum, getting pancakes at IHOP, and seeing his teacher and friends in the school building. He has persevered with the relentless enthusiasm and self-motivation of youth. I wish I was as strong as he has been in the face of our weird new reality.

Everett continues to grow and learn at a pace that makes it impossible for me to ignore the passing of time. To have held a new life on their first day of existence, and then have that life read books to you, explain math, and legitimately beat you at Mario Kart seven years later is surreal. Everett’s emotional intelligence is just incredible to me. Never a circumstance passes with only his own interest in mind. He always considers how every action impacts others and makes them feel. He does not hesitate to share his own rewards with others if it means they feel better. There are no better words to describe him than genuine and kind. I am so very proud of the little human he has become, and he makes me strive to be the best person I can be.

My son is curious, and no matter how many questions he asks I am happy to respond. There is something special about hearing a sentence begin with “Daddy?”, and knowing that it won’t always be that way. Seven years have gone by so quickly and I find myself screaming ever more desperately into the void, “Slow down time!” But time cares not, and all I can do is enjoy every moment as best as possible—whether we are building LEGO, playing hide-and-seek, reading stories, enjoying nature, or cuddling up to watch a movie. I want those moments and I want them to never leave my heart even when they leave the everyday.

While I am tasked with helping Everett make his way in life, I doubt he realizes how much he has taught me. I am so incredibly fortunate to have Everett as my son. He has been my “bud” since day one and we have shared so many experiences together. While I am in no hurry for his childhood to pass, I do look forward to what adventures await us next.

After a birthday breakfast today (a healthy assortment of absurd donuts), I told Everett that I loved him and was proud of him. He just smiled and softly said, “me, too.”

Don’t ever change, man.

Happy Birthday, Everett.

“I like being four years old—I am taller!”

That was what my son Campbell had to say only hours after entering his fourth year on Earth. He was also sick, which put a damper on his big day. But that perfectly encapsulates my son. He injects this world with happiness and joy, even if things aren’t going his way. And I admire him for it.

Campbell came into my life on this day four years ago. He entered the world under trying circumstances. His heart rate was dropping and an emergency Cesarean section seemed likely. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because I entered the world under the same conditions. Thankfully, unlike me, Campbell decided to get out on his own terms. Soon enough he was making use of his lungs to say to all who would listen, “I am here!"—and here he has been everyday since.

This past year was a difficult one, in part due to COVID-19. Campbell had to adapt to a new world where the things he loved the most (see: restaurants, museums, and the zoo) were now off limits. But he did what he always does—he rolled with the punches and never lost his sense of kindness and happiness. Resilient. That’s Campbell.

For kids, birthdays are awesome days filled with presents and cake. For parents, they can be bittersweet. These special days cause reflection on the past year and those before it. The growth we see marks the passing of time. And it passes relentlessly. As Gretchen Rubin said, “the days are long, but the years are short”. It is easy to miss the incremental changes in a child on any given day, but those changes sum to a realization that their growth is real and that time has passed and we will never get it back. When we think about that time, we sometimes regret the days we took it for granted, and sometimes we cry or smile when remembering a special moment.

Campbell has grown so much this past year and he loves life. He understands rhyming. He is learning letters and how to write his name. He loves for me to read books to him. He loves Minnie Mouse and all things pink. He is obsessed with hippos and is always carrying around his large Fiona the Hippo stuffed animal. He really loves for me to carry him on my shoulders when we are hiking or playing. He is smaller than his brother was at this age, so I relish every opportunity to throw him up there because I know that one day he will decide he needs to do everything on his own two feet. He always looks for opportunities to ham it up, and his laugh is contagious. He is kind and empathetic—always thinking about how people or animals feel in a given situation. He will sometimes take a quick detour from the action at hand to give me a hug. I will often tell him, “I love you, buddy”, and he responds with a whisper, “Me, too.”

When President Joe Biden reflected on his time in the U.S. Senate and taking the train home to Delaware every night to see his children, he said, “But looking back on it, the truth be told, the real reason I went home every night was that I needed my children more than they needed me.” I suspect that is true for most parents. As I put Campbell up on my shoulders, he thinks I am carrying him. But he doesn’t know that he carries me. He makes me a better person. And I am so very glad that I know him.

As I dropped him off today, he said, “I love you, daddy.”

Me, too, buddy.

Happy Birthday, Campbell.

I wrote this satirical version of A Visit from St. Nicholas on the eve of the 2016 election. Instead of Santa visiting a family, Abraham Lincoln visited the Speaker of the House, Paul Ryan. In my version of the poem, Lincoln offered a litany of indecencies from then candidate Trump—ending with this warning

In conclusion he said, “What this party sows, so shall it reap”, And as he departed, Lincoln did weep.

As clever and foreboding as the poem may have been, it betrayed that I, along with many Americans, took the election and our democracy for granted. We cannot, and must not, do so again tomorrow.

Four years later, I am not going to write a list of the indecencies that we have all endured over the past four years. You can find that here. Instead, I simply ask:

Vote.

Vote for you.

Vote for your health.

Vote for your friends and family.

Vote for those who perished from covid-19.

Vote for those who simply seek equality and dignity.

Vote for those who live in fear of being removed from this country.

Vote for those who are still seeking the full promise of America’s ideals.

Vote against a leader who has corrupted his position of public trust.

Vote against a leader who has sown division and hatred.

Vote for a leader who will inspire our best.

Vote for a leader who has empathy.

Vote for love and decency.

Vote for America.

Vote.

Update (April 17)

You have collectively donated $665, with donations targeting:

• The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research
• Dementia Society of America
• Food and Shelter, Inc.
• Samaritan’s Purse
• Second Harvest Heartland
• Trevor Project

TL;DR

I turned 36 on March 22. To celebrate, I will move my body 36 miles on April 18 with a goal to raise money for charity. I need your help and request that you sponsor me with a donation to the charity of your choice. Take a screenshot and/or send me details of your donation and I will track how much we collectively raise. Please consider sharing this page with #36for36 so that we can reach as many people as possible.

Read below for more details and follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for updates.

Motivation

I turned 36 on March 22 amidst a global pandemic. Despite the circumstances, I am reminded that I have two great children, know true friendship, am healthy, and get to do science for a living at a job that affords me the flexibility to work from home. All things considered, life is pretty good for me. I do not care about gifts for my birthday—it is far more fun to honor those who work to make life better for others. I also believe that when people invest in you and your dreams, you should act in kind when possible. So, I started walking my age in miles for my birthday to raise funds for charity: OK Foster Wishes in 2016, Teen Recovery Solutions in 2017, and Christmas Box International in 2019¹.

As I wrote previously, I love walking/jogging/running because it allows me time to think. I want to do the same this year and I need your help. Instead of me selecting a single charity, I ask that you simply donate to your chosen charity and send me details or a screenshot. If you do not have a cause in mind, I suggest the the Michael J. Fox Foundation in support of Parkinson’s research. I will keep a running list of your causes and how much we collectively raise. As the world and our country battle COVID-19, this project can serve as a reminder that good people are doing great things in our communities. In return for your participation, I will make my body move 36 miles on April 18 around Lake Hefner in Oklahoma City.

The Goal

I think we can collectively raise $500 for charity, although any amount will be great (and I think we can do more). So, 36 miles for my 36th birthday in an effort to raise at least $500.

Can I Do It?

Yes. You can trust that I will honor my commitment of 36 miles. Why?

I completed the 2012 OKC Memorial Marathon through a combination of walking and jogging. In 2016, I participated in a team for Run The Year and finished with an individual total of 1,600 miles. I also completed birthday fundraisers for my 32nd, 33rd, and 35th birthdays. I am notorious for setting crazy goals and seeing them through. Life is short. 36 miles is even shorter.

Details

I plan to move my body 36 miles on Saturday, April 18. That will give me around 3 weeks to continue training and collect donations. Donations will be tracked through the end of April.

I never concern myself with speed. My knees are getting old enough that running very long is unlikely. I prefer a deliberate walk and jog. I am not an athlete, so do not expect world record speeds. I estimate that it might take me 10-11 hours. The main thing is that I will finish.

Donate

I need your help to make this happen. Choose a cause and donate. Every donation matters, no matter how small. Send me a screenshot or details via email, Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram. I will keep an updated list of your causes and how much we have collectively raised.

Please Share

I would appreciate if you would share a link to this page using #36for36.

Keep Updated

Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram to follow our progress.

Thank You

Your donation will help others and I am very thankful for your support.