As I get older, so many of the lessons my dad taught me as a kid take on deeper meaning.
For instance, when I would explain the series of events that led to me showing up after my curfew, he would tell me that while he understood my explanation, it was up to me to plan ahead so that I wouldn't be in the position of needing to explain.
Not an easy lesson for a teenager to learn—or WANT to learn, really.
At the time, I'm sure I thought that if I could just make him understand why I was late, that should somehow change the fact that I was late. And sometimes there really was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Things happened. Plans changed. Someone else took longer than expected. Whatever the circumstances were, I wasn't necessarily trying to make an excuse. I was explaining what happened.
But Dad understood something I didn't yet.
An explanation can be completely valid and still not erase the consequences.
There's a difference between explaining how something happened and believing that explanation absolves us of responsibility for it.
And there's another piece of his lesson that I appreciate even more now: responsibility often starts before something goes wrong. It means thinking ahead. Allowing extra time. Considering what could happen. Recognizing that our decisions don't exist in a vacuum and that sometimes the consequences of getting something wrong affect more than just us.
Of course, none of us can anticipate everything. Life has a way of throwing circumstances at us that no amount of planning could have prevented. But there are also plenty of times when, looking back, we realize there was a point when a different decision could have led to a very different outcome.
As I hear of recent events with consequences much more serious than coming home after curfew, Dad's lesson hits on a whole new level.
Explanations aren't excuses.
We can understand the circumstances that led someone to make a decision without pretending the decision didn't matter. We can have compassion for someone and still recognize responsibility. Those things aren't mutually exclusive.
It took me a lot of years to fully appreciate that distinction.
Dad probably knew it would.
And these days, I find myself appreciating his wisdom—and the lessons he taught my siblings and me—more than ever.
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You’re invited to join my newsletter, Finding What Works—a weekly-ish note from me with practical wellness tips, nostalgic nods for GenX souls, and honest reflections from someone who’s still figuring it all out (but loves sharing the good stuff along the way).
This isn’t about perfection or pressure. It’s about finding what supports us, what lights us up, and what brings us back to ourselves—together.
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Writing it all down brings clarity, calm, and sometimes even healing answers I didn’t know I was looking for.
Honestly, that’s why I keep showing up to write — it helps me make sense of things.
Even if you have no intentions of ever publishing your work, I highly recommend writing stuff down. It doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece or even full, grammatically correct sentences... just dump those random thoughts onto paper... you'll see what I mean.
*This blog centers the GenX experience, simply because that’s the lens I live through—but anyone looking for connection, natural wellness, grief support, or a little real-talk in this messy stage of life is more than welcome.
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