Life, Lessons & Love

My Context

September 28, 2025

“...you brightened up all of my days” — How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)

In 1965, my father’s career transitioned from work with TRW—yes, he was a literal rocket scientist—to a job offer in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, working for a respected colleague, Ron Southern, to build a new division of ATCO. The timing meant that my pregnant mother was left to pack up their belongings in their Torrance, California home, and coordinate the logistics of the move while carrying me everywhere she went.

Settled in Calgary, I popped out on August 3, 1965. Married at 21 in 1958, my mom had continued to mature in her marriage to my father. At 28, she was ready to be a mother.

Together, my mother and father embodied the ideal archetypes of the feminine and the masculine. He provided a loving, nurturing space for her to inhabit, and she reflected that love, filling his life in ways that are all too rare. One of my favorite metaphors for the balance of the feminine and the masculine is the idea that the masculine is represented by the solid banks of the river, providing the space within which the feminine can move with grace and fluidity.

During 48 years of marriage, they never argued. They planned, they communicated, they saved, they explored, they lived, and they loved. They lived a miraculous love.

Most people are incredulous when they hear of a married couple that has never argued. But I enjoyed 21 years of adult life with my parents before my father’s death in 2006, so I saw their relationship as a child, pre-teen, teen, early adult, married adult, divorced adult, and remarried adult. Throughout it all, I observed each of them and their way of being carefully. I was there for it all. I have a few theories.

First, they held God at the center of their marriage. Neither of them saw themselves as the ultimate partner in the marriage. God and Jesus Christ were their counsel, their protection and their guiding light. Although we went to church regularly, my father’s pragmatism yielded a way of being that was biased toward action rather than words. As far as I can recall, beyond prayers of thanks over meals, there was not a lot of discussion of God in our home. My mother and father lived God’s love.

Second, my father was an engineer through-in-through. Pragmatic, detail-oriented, strategic and highly technical, he was thoughtful and problem-solving oriented. His father had died when my father was only fourteen, he had been raised by his mother. She was a strong and capable woman, and through her, I believe he learned her ways of being—my father had an unusually well-developed feminine side that enabled him to be naturally compassionate, sensitive and nurturing in ways that have always been rare for men.

And third, my mother was not only a strong and capable woman herself—a UCLA graduate, and a teacher for many years by the time I was born—adored by her students to this day—she was also wonderfully empathetic, intuitive and naturally nurturing. I lived this daily for over twenty years. In 2015, I discovered that she is also an Empath. We’ll discuss the empath experience in greater detail in chapter 4. For now, it’s sufficient to understand that my mom has always been naturally adaptive to the way of being of those around her. With my father, she mirrored what was best about him, and reflected everything he was and much more—she was his perfect feminine counterpart. They were a team. She was practical, pragmatic, detail-oriented, responsible and loving. They worked together, and communicated with respect. They had no need to argue.

After my father’s death, I was able to watch my mother’s way of being evolve. Free to be completely herself, I saw a carefree way of being I had never seen before as she recounted her cross-country road trip with her sister. Later that same year, she rekindled an old relationship. She fell in love and remarried at a pace that was shocking to many. But to me, it was clear that she needed someone to love—daily. It has always been her nature to give love in every possible way every day.

To say I was fortunate to grow up within this context is an understatement. In the book draft titled “Tell Me Your Life Story, Dad,” I’m recounting for Reagan and all of my other children what each aspect of my life looked like over the years. It’ll take another book to describe how wonderful it was to be loved by my parents.