Friday, April 15th, 2011 by Bill Swadley.

First published at The Huffington Post on April 13, 2011

Read the headline. That’s it. That’s the extent of my advice to parents, divorced or otherwise, based on my nine years of experience as a divorced father. You can stop reading now.

My daughter was 5, my son was almost 4 when their mother and I split. It was, without a doubt, the most difficult and heartbreaking event of my life. I was terrified and had no idea how any of it was going to work. From living arrangements, to childcare, to finances, you name it. The only thing I knew for certain was that my kids were going to be okay. No matter what. I didn’t hope or wish for that. I decided it would be so.

At the time I had a few friends who were children of divorce. Rather than talking to other divorced parents I found that talking to those who survived from the place my kids were now in gave me an amazing amount of insight. One such survivor told me that both her parents remarried after they divorced. On one hand it was great having a big group of people in attendance for every birthday, recital, graduation, etc. Two sets of parents, two sets of grandparents, not to mention aunts, uncles, and cousins. On the other hand, both parents were so focused on not repeating their marital mistakes of the past that for most of her childhood and into her teenage years she often felt in second place on the importance scale.

It seems that the neglect a child feels when a parent remarries can be profound. Seems obvious, but it’s apparently a common mistake parents make when they find themselves single again. They don’t understand that the life they led before they had kids is not the life they now face as a single person. Like it or not, you’re a parent first and “single and available” second. I’m not suggesting divorced parents not try to find that perfect relationship, just that the game is completely different from what it once was.

Over the years I’ve been in and out of relationships. Some casual, others “serious.” Most of the women I’ve been involved with were childless and I noticed myself rationalizing a certain degree of neglect of my kids to accommodate the needs and/or lack of understanding on the part of the childless woman in question. It never felt good and something ends up missing in the equation for everyone. I’m sure there are plenty of people who have managed to solve this dilemma, I’m just not one of them. It occurs to me now, though, that regardless of how well they think they understand, ultimately someone who has no children has no real grasp of how a single parent sees things. For this reason the odds of a new relationship succeeding are probably significantly greater if both people have kids.

For the record, I have the most amazing kids ever. My daughter is almost 14 now and my son is 12. They’re smart, happy, funny, beautiful, and, above all, well-adjusted. I know some mistakes were made along the way by both me and their mom, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at my kids. We’re just entering the teenage years and while I know there are rough roads ahead, the way I see it my ex and I are facing the same issues and conundrums all parents confront when their precious little ones are taken over by height and hormones. It’s a good feeling.

Would my kids be better off had their mom and I not split? Given the high degree of unresolved and unresolvable discontent and animosity present in our home at the time I can say with complete confidence that, no, they would not. Would I have been as good a parent had we stayed under the same roof? Likewise, no, I seriously doubt it.

When I was on my own with my kids I knew I had to up my game. No more tag-team parenting. When it’s just you there’s no one to take up the slack if you’re too busy, too tired, too grumpy, too depressed, etc. to “deal with the kids right now.” If you rise to the occasion you become uber-parent, able to leap Lego towers in a single bound, while feeding the dog, washing the dishes, making the sandwiches, and fielding calls from your boss who can’t understand why you don’t go to the office on Saturday mornings anymore.

This may not work for everyone, but having tried it both ways I find that the ideal is no compromise where the kids are concerned, which in practice really becomes minimize the compromises as much as possible. In a few short years my daughter will be 18 and off to college, my son just a couple of years behind her. I don’t have much time left to make sure everything’s right (as right as possible anyway). Everything else can wait.

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Monday, February 21st, 2011 by Bill Swadley.

 First published at The Huffington Post February 21, 2011

When I wrote about child support recently I knew I was touching on a hot topic, but I was still surprised at the high emotional level of conversation in the comments that followed. To be clear, I wasn’t advocating the implementation of some kind of draconian accountability system for how child support payments are utilized. While I don’t think it’s a bad idea on paper, the reality is that it would require another level of bureaucracy in an already dysfunctional system (in most states) , and would be nearly impossible to enforce. I was, however, suggesting, that the parent receiving excess support payments (”excess” definable by the conscience of that parent) put the extra money away for the child. In a college fund, for the down payment on their first car or apartment, etc.

A few people berated me for being vague in terms of my exact situation. Obviously that was intentional. I didn’t want the post to be about me, but I was willing to use my personal experience and that of various friends to question the status quo. In doing so I learned something from the ensuing conversation. According to the comments posted, a great many people paying and receiving child support feel they’re being abused. With much passion from both sides. It’s hard to tell from such an informal survey whether in equal numbers on both sides, but certainly both have their share of horror stories. Both sides. From people getting pathetically little compared to their cost of living to take care of their child full-time to joint-custodial parents paying thousands of dollars a month to a self-sufficient ex-spouse.

My main takeaway from the conversation was that the system most states use to determine and enforce spousal and child support doesn’t work very well. That’s not to say that if a divorced couple has the wherewithal to pay court and legal fees and a willingness and ability to repeatedly show up in court or mediation together they can’t find that perfect formula, but that’s not the case for everyone. Even if it were free, filing court petitions and attending hearings are time consuming. Taking care of kids is a full-time job even if you only have them 50% of the time, and hearings usually occur during the day when most people are working. Just thinking about it makes me tired. So, yes, if someone is getting the shaft in the post-divorce support situation there is legal recourse, it’s often just not very realistic to pursue.

What I read over and over again in the comments was that many people have been badly impacted by the system, are now struggling because of it, and are at a loss as to any remedy. This is one of those situations where one can see a problem very clearly and from every angle, but not even a hint of where the solution lies in terms of the system itself. Is anyone even working on it? Probably not. Then what’s the solution? Don’t get married? Don’t have kids? Don’t get divorced? If you do get married and have kids make sure you have a giant legal fund put away in case you get divorced? None of the above, obviously. People don’t think about divorce when they’re getting married and having kids and never will.

I was talking with a friend over the weekend about divorce and settlements and such. We’ve both been divorced for many years and have very accommodating attitudes in terms of scheduling with the exes. As 50-50 parents it often benefits everyone to allow for those unexpected business trips or nearly missed soccer practice drop-offs (especially the kids, of course). She pointed out that she wasn’t always that way. In the beginning, the schedule was the schedule. As if it were written in stone. It’s like that in the aftermath of divorce. It’s never, “We’re sticking to the schedule because the court says so.” It’s, “We’re sticking to the schedule because I hate you!”

What’s often missing is something even the most perfect state family law system can’t fix. Cooperation and empathy. From everyone, for everyone. I know, this is often impossible given the baggage that led up to the divorce, but for most parents the bottom-line is the welfare of the child, which hopefully goes beyond the monetary and way beyond hurt and anger.

I’ve heard good advice that parents put themselves in each other’s shoes to see if there might be a different perspective from that side of the fence, but I find that it’s even more important to put myself in my children’s place to see from their perspective what I’m teaching them.

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Friday, March 26th, 2010 by Bill Swadley.

First published at Huffington Post on March 25, 2010

An article in the New York Times yesterday revealed that the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) is up in arms at the prospect that the Commodity Futures Trading Commission might approve the creation of a futures market that would deal in movie box office receipts.

I say, let ‘em try!

Futures markets have traditionally been reserved for raw goods. In futures trading sugar is a commodity that is traded through futures contracts, but not salt water taffy. Sugar is the raw ingredient, candy is the resultant product after manufacture. Same with oil. Crude oil futures are traded, not gasoline. Why is that? Mainly because there is an inherent standardization to a raw commodity, but also a question mark as to how much that commodity will bring once it’s brought to market. It’s that question mark that becomes the gain or loss for the futures trader. Once the raw commodity becomes its final product, price fluctuation is severely limited so there’s not much to bet on.

Perhaps this is what fooled the Einsteins at Cantor Fitzgerald and Veriana Networks (the two groups proposing the exchanges) to think that trading box office futures could work. The complete unpredictability of a film’s performance. But it’s an entirely different manner of unpredictability, and I wonder if they understand that.

To further disconnect this idea from true futures trading: while it’s true that the value of futures contracts fluctuates according to many factors depending on the commodity, there’s a best/worse case scenario that can be estimated as a basis, barring unforeseen events like a natural disaster, unexpected blight, economic crisis, etc. In any given contract period the trader calculates the risk involved going in and may gamble that a certain crop’s yield will do well or poorly based on what’s known about that commodity, interest rates, weather patterns, even political climate for less stable countries. The “gamble” is a calculated one.

Being a gambler and investor and having worked in entertainment finance for over 15 years, the last thing I would ever advise anyone to bet on or invest in is film box office grosses. Why? Oh, I don’t know, let’s ask renowned screenwriter/playwright/author William Goldman:

“Nobody knows anything.”

You said it, Bill.

Mr. Goldman’s statement, which has been quoted ad nauseum (including by me with great frequency) and attributed to all manner of people about pretty much anything that’s unpredictable in life, was in fact a statement about show business, Hollywood in particular, and the unlimited surprises (both good and bad) awaiting any individual or company venturing into the entertainment industry. Yes the rewards can be great, but they’re so sporadic and impossible to predict that even big movie studios often lose their nerve in the face of an expensive, potential flop.

Entertainment finance people spend untold hours and sleepless nights trying to figure out the monetary potential of any given film and the closest anyone in this business ever comes is to approximate a best-guess based on a virtual house-of-cards of assumptions. When something hits a mark we set or, thank the heavens, exceeds it, you never hear the words, “I told you so.” No, the wise man or woman who made that prediction is too busy worrying that the other 10-15 films in that year’s slate will miss the target. Like good ol’ Charlie Brown, one minute you’re the hero, the next you’re the goat.

Here’s the thing, people with a lot of money and/or people with access to a lot of money almost never have the slightest understanding of how the movie business works, especially from a finance point of view. But they almost always find out.

The hard way.

But go for it, boys, and don’t worry. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88mph the instant the lightning strikes the tower… everything will be fine.

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Monday, October 5th, 2009 by Bill Swadley.

My whole life I wanted to know “the answer.”  Never mind that I didn’t understand the question.

What always gets me is how, just when I think I have a good idea about the workings of life-as-we-know-it and things are going along pretty smoothly, something grabs me by the collar and says, “You know nothing!”

This is one of those times.

I had a conversation with my mom a few weeks ago about that she’d likely be moving on from this phase of her life fairly soon.  At the time it struck me that the only real difference between her and the rest of us was that she had a little more information. She had been diagnosed with Stage-4 cancer. No one knows when that big event will occur, and we live with a blind trust that it won’t be anytime soon, and thereby live under the illusion that there is “plenty of time.” 

Writers, artists, philosophers, scientists, the faithful and atheists alike, have spent more time dwelling on the subject of mortality than any other except maybe love.  Many who have gone before us and those who come after will continue to ponder the mystery of life and death, and, as they always have, will come to the same conclusion. 

Learning what’s really important in life doesn’t come easy. For most of us it takes not much less than the mental equivalent of being hit over the head with a 2×4.  The realization comes differently for anyone who makes it:  The birth of a child, the death of a parent, catastrophic life-altering events, euphoric experiences that expand the spirit, any experience that raises our awareness to a new level. 

I’m not sure how she got there, but my mom was one of the lucky ones who understood and it’s so simple:  Surround yourself with love and laughter.  That’s the wisdom great thinkers have spent lifetimes uncovering that was second nature to her. In terms of love, I think she would agree with the statement, “Spend as much time as you can in the company of your loved ones.”

When she knew her time was limited, she didn’t run out and book a cruise or schedule a whirlwind trip across the continents. She told us that all she wanted to do was be in her home visiting with everyone. We all thought we had many months in which to do this, and while we would gladly have taken many more years, the little time we were given was put to good use in fulfilling that desire for her and us.

During that time, just like it always had been in my family, we didn’t sit around having serious discussions about sad inevitabilities. Nope.  We laughed and laughed. As hardily and frequently as possible.  Even the day mom left us the love and laughter continued to flow. My sister, Julie, said something that day which moved everyone and is a perfect demonstration of what I’m talking about. She said, “Oh my God! They dropped her. She’s on the sidewalk!”

Yes, it moved everyone. Into hysterics. My sister wasn’t playing a cruel prank on us. She really thought the guys from the mortuary had dropped my mom as they were taking her down the stairs. They hadn’t, not even close, but you can imagine the images that popped into the minds of those of us who weren’t standing at the window as my sister was.

This is how it’s always been in my family.  Not far behind tears of tragedy follow the healing powers of laughter.  My mom’s dad, our Popa, is to this day the funniest person I have ever known. My dad didn’t have the great gift for humor that my grandfather possessed, but he could tell a good joke and was a comic’s fantasy. He laughed so hard and loud and long that at times it could get embarrassing. Especially if you were 14… Or my mom…

Mom had a keen sense of humor (how could she not being raised by Pop?) but she was also very classy and had a strong sense of decorum. As a result, her laugh was very subtle, especially in contrast to my dad. Getting her to laugh out loud was a major accomplishment. If you could get her to do so in public you were deserving of a medal. 

During the weeks following her diagnosis, kids, grandkids, and one seriously cute great-grandchild, literally enveloped her with their unwavering devotion and humor. As she started to drift from us she was comforted by the simple act of holding a hand and feeling the love conduct electrically between us. During this time, even when she was fading and could  barely speak, she’d get a big smile on her face every time the conversation turned to a funny old remembrance or a quick-witted pun.

Everyone who comes into our lives bears with them a lesson for us.  Often the most profound of these lessons are borne by those with the simplest outlook on life. My mom didn’t need to fill her days with activities and distractions that only serve to “busy” our lives rather than enrich them. No, by filling her days with love and laughter, and teaching that lesson to us throughout her life, she not only gave of them freely, but they came back to her immeasurably.

In our pretense that life goes on forever, even though we’re faced every day with the reality that exactly the opposite is true, we allow ourselves to waste a great deal of time.  That’s why we must continually remind ourselves what’s really important. What my mom knew. Her  wisdom about life is a part of us. That wisdom is a gift to us for having been lucky enough to share this small space of time with her. 

My mother, Shirlee Swadley, died Saturday at age 84 from lung cancer. She didn’t suffer, didn’t linger, had no regrets, was surrounded by love, and laughed with us ‘til the end.

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