​​“No man is an island,” wrote John Donne, the 16th Century English poet and cleric.  In politics, this metaphor seems especially relevant.  It is convenient, especially with social media, to be insular and self-protecting of our cherished political beliefs.  We often hang out with people who feel and believe as we do.  What is not easy—what takes courage—is to open our minds and listen to other points of view on climate change, immigration, women’s reproductive rights, the Israeli/Palestinian conflict…you name it.  Anyone unswervingly committed to one position needs to engage in civil discourse with someone equally committed to another position.  This is choosing debate over polarization.  It’s building a bridge, not a wall.  It’s allowing our political institutions to breathe again, and be effective before they break down and break our country apart.  In my new novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Winning an Election, I was pleased to be  interviewed on a podcast by a smart, savvy sixteen year old student activist.  I gave him  my thoughts about my 18-year-old heroine, Brit, who learns the necessity of speaking up about politics —dispassionately, diplomatically, and using research and history as her guide.  History teaches us that being “islands”—going it alone without interacting, helping, or learning from others—is to capitulate to cynicism, apathy and stagnation. The lesson every generation should learn, starting in middle school and high school, is not to shy from politics but to embrace them.  

There are numerous benchmarks of achievement in high school, whether social, athletic, academic or personal growth.  School is a busy, often overwhelming journey, and carving out one’s identity may include a mix of of the above.  What is often missing, however, is one's political voice.  For many, cynicism about politics starts at the dinner table, but for others so does the realization that, no matter how bad things are in Washington DC or your own community, one dismisses politics at his or her own peril.  Politics affects our lives in subtle, sometimes seemingly invisible ways; if we’re not paying attention, it’s our fault. The Parkland, Florida shootings sparked an awareness that one’s protest, combined with others, can lead to a movement, and a movement can lead to significant change. But the effort requires courage, time, and an understanding of history. 

My new novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Winning an Election, centers on a history teacher who asks his AP students to write their term  paper on where their lives will be in ten years.  Britain, a political novice, finds her entire identity challenged in a student body election.  Once the gates of self-knowledge open, it feels both dangerous and overwhelming, but she doesn’t run from her new voice, she runs to it.  She rewrites her essay for history class, realizing  where she wants to be rather than where everyone expects her to be.  


“This novel contains political and socioeconomic messages about the current state of things and the recent future as well. Its brilliance is that it wraps complex concepts into an easy-to-follow story that is surprisingly relatable to all ages.  An incredibly engaging book." - Gerry Orz, an eleventh grade activist, author and filmmaker, attending Connection Academy in Capistrano, California.  ​

​I'm not adept at writing series and sequels that stick with one major character.  All of my novels differ from one another.  I like focusing on people, themes and situations as varied as the memories that pop into my head:  artists in crisis, race relations, crime and violence,  horse racing, sports, and smart people who still require luck to survive.  

My new novel (my seventh young adult book) centers on American politics. The year is 2025 and Washington D.C—shaped by lobbyists and hypocritical politicians who have been creating chaos for fifty years,  are the target of public rage, including from high school students tired of their leaders’ ineffective polarization. The "guide" in

​The Beginner's Guide to Winning an Election is nothing less than history itself--or perhaps it's Mr. Wilson, who exposes his AP class in an Indiana high school to the intricate patterns of history.  Those who run for student office, like my heroine, Brit Kitridge, may lack an outgoing personality and charisma, but their knowledge of the past leads them to understand where the future is going. Novice and “science brain”  Brit takes on a popular incumbent, a boy whom everyone loves but no one really knows well.  His secrets, she eventually learns, are tied to the agenda of a mysterious lawyer with his own agenda for public education.  Brit knows her chances of winning rest on sorting through the shadows of her117 year old school, the hidden life of her opponent, and developing a strategy to withstand the lies of  his team of supporters.     

With only a few days before the much-anticipated midterms, my wife and I attended a small fundraiser for a 29-year-old Latina running for a seat on the Santa Maria City Council.  Gloria Soto is a political novice who, if she wins,  hopes to give voice to approximately 70 percent of the population of a city sixty-five miles north of Santa Barbara, home to Vandenberg Air Force Base and lots of productive farms reliant on inexpensive labor.  Most of the  approximately 73,000 Hispanics in Gloria’s city perch on the lower rungs of the economic ladder.  The city faces a significant deficit, underperforming public schools, lack of a plan for raising revenues, an inadequate social safety net, and a predominantly while, older city council. 
 
Gloria wants to challenge all that.  She describes herself as a fighter with a dream, and as I listened to her speak, I thought of the heroine of my novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Winning an Election.  My story takes places in Indiana in 2025, where politics is hostile and combative even in high schools, and my heroine, like Gloria, is a fledgling at what feels too often like a blood sport.  The two young women—one fictional, one real—merge in my mind.  They both run grass roots campaigns that combine instinct, courage ,and new ideas with  a refusal to be dissuaded  by those who tell them to quit, or wait their turn, or focus on some other future besides politics.   
 
   As a writer and, like so many others, a voyeur of American politics, I think it’s the youth that have the best chance of saving our struggling democracy.  In assessing any candidate, I frown on the tyranny of ideology and agendas, and celebrate those who embrace  common sense and pragmatic solutions.  I want to see candidates who reject excuses for apathy at the polls, and view public service as the highest calling that a democracy can offer. Getting elected can be more difficult than going to med school or becoming a particle physicist.  Maybe that’s why so many people young people shy from politics, but those who want  to climb the mountain, and aren’t afraid of challenging the status quo, they deserve my support.

​In 2017, I began wondering how the new political norms in Washington would filter down to a  public high school election, say, in 2025.  I made middle-of-the-night notes.  Then I put those notes into  pages.  Then I made the pages into a novel.  Then I rewrote the story a half dozen times… until I began to see how it could all come true.  

Here are my five suggestions for amending the social contract of childrearing.   ​

1. Parents shouldn’t hide that they’re fallible human beings, and kids should be encouraged to learn from a parent’s weaknesses and  mistakes as well as  their strengths.  Everyone needs equal time to speak up, not just about their happiness and successes, but  disappointments and problems.  A five year old losing a pet hasemotionalequivalency to a parent losing a job.  Learning to offer help, forgiveness and sympathy needs to be a two-way street.

2. Parents should let kids know early on that mom and dad have roles to play other than raising children.  Holding a job, nurturing friendships, dealing with aging parents, taking care of their own health, handling a divorce…the list is long.   The sooner kids accept  that a  parent may not always be around physically or emotionally, the more adept they  become at solving their own problems. They also get a glimpse of what awaits them as adults, which can seem, and Is, daunting. if they go to a party school, or announce they want to live like a hedonist, remind them they still can’t escape responsibility.   
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3. A child giving mom or dad a hug, or even a sympathetic glance,  at the end of a parent’s hard day has healing qualities It’s almost as important as mom and dad hugging their child.  A lot of parents think they have to be self-sufficient authority figures,  but really, they need love, too.
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5. Many teens like to think that  they’re two or three years older than their actual age, and  in some  ways they might be   Don’t be reluctant to count on them if they have skills and insights that  you don’t, whether they’re academic, socialization, or just common sense. Authority resides with  a parent, but it doesn’t mean much to kids if you don’t have an open mind or encourage their talents. When they express gratitude to you for “being there for them,” that validation is priceless.  

​I’ve read several thoughtful pieces on the passing of Anthony Bourdain  A sensitive, talented and self-doubting man complicated by addiction and depression, which he fought most of his life.   As someone (and I don’t know how many other tens of millions) who deals with depression, I’d like to humbly add what life lessons Bourdain taught me.  
On Parts Unknown, he sold his political views with sleight of hand.  You thought you were watching an exotic food show, or a travelog filled with interesting people, but after being inundated with a season or two, you realized that Bourdain's view of food and cooking was more than about local color.  His subtext was about  what a culture can afford to eat, what it likes to eat, what it is  conditioned to eat, and when, due to affluence, it craves something new and different.  These are complex forms of self-expression and cultural identity, and  defined mostly by economics or politics. 

​If Bourdain had  trained his critical eye on our country, he’d be asking why  so many of us  are gluttons for fast food, and even the idea of four, always inexpensive, high calorie  meals a day?  Or why do we go to Whole Foods and spend $150 when $100 would have bought a comparable basket at a more modest supermarket?  Why do we pay $100 for a Chard loved by Beyonce?   Why do we go on diets?  Why do we go to gyms or yoga hoping for obedience from our bodies?  Food drives us crazy.   Perhaps there’s a hidden, even unconscious agenda behind what we put ourselves through. The pyramid of survival and happiness starts with food, education, and shelter, but then the simple plan gets blown out by status seeking, greed, fear, ambition, novelty and the political views to justify what we’ve become. 

​One bad night filled with unimaginably wretched feelings may amount to nothing in the morning, but one time it just might be enough to want to close your eyes for good. That’s my real takeaway from an  extraordinary, troubled American life.  Pay attention to your thoughts and feelings, because few others will care as much as you should.   Your worst moments should be your wake up call.  That is not boastful piety.  I think Bourdain, had he survived the hours before his death, might have had some moments of clarity where he got real with himself.         

Millennials have been described as stingy tippers, perhaps a cliché by now, yet I’ve seen first-hand young professional, pen in hand, look at the tipping line on the credit card receipt as an affront.  I’ve seen a tab for $86 graced with a $2 gratuity,  and one for over $100 with the words “no way” scribbled across the tipping line.  “It’s like an extra tax,” I’ve heard diners say.  My daughter once worked at a Washington DC taco and burger joint where almost a third of the customers left no tip.  Whether parsimonious diners are reacting to bad food, bad service, are just cheap, think tipping is charity, or  feel they have dropped enough coin for a meal and  it’s the restaurants that should pay their servers a living wage….I have no idea.  Maybe it’s all of the above, and more.  I would love to see a consumer survey.
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Tipping allegedly  started in 17thCentury English taverns, when patrons gave servers extra money ‘to insure promptitude” (TIP). The practice was later adopted in the States and other countries, but a fair number of cultures discourage the practice.  Others add a gratuity automatically to the bill.  Optional tipping is where  a variety of emotions are aroused,  not just from diners but servers and counter people.  If using a digital device to indicate the amount of gratuity, I’ve watched the wait person turn away for a moment, giving  the diner privacy in making his or her decision. To some, it feels rushed and  awkward, but I’m not sure what can be done about it.  Some waiters don’t even  glance at tip amounts because it’s beyond their control, while others work diligently and hope to be rewarded.  For many, the extra ten to twenty percent or more you add to your bill  makes a difference in their standard of living, from affording an extra gallon of milk to paying the rent.  
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When I was younger and eating out was a luxury, I left a ten percent tip (parroting my parents), which was the standard at the time.  As my wife and I grew financially secure, I raised the ante to fifteen or twenty.  Now, witnessing the vast disparity in American incomes, and its consequences on the social fabric, I tip 25%.  I can afford it and I know my server appreciates it.  I find tipping not to be a tax but a bond between strangers.  It’s a feel good moment, which there never seem to be enough of in the daily grind.        
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