It’s Sunny. It’s Summer

📚 Summer Reading: A Rebellion Worth Leading

It’s sunny. It’s summer. Which means kids everywhere are perfecting the fine art of screen time avoidance… unless, of course, the screen is a PlayStation.

All my grandkids are in town. It’s a joy. And yet, as I watch them, I can’t help but reflect on the world they’re growing up in—a world where attention is fractured, screens dominate, and reading often takes a backseat.

As school winds down and summer kicks in, we find ourselves staring at a truth we’ve known for years: when children stop reading, they start slipping.

Jerald McNair’s recent op-ed in the Chicago Tribune—which appeared in today’s Buffalo News—delivers the data plainly. Reading scores for 4th and 8th graders continue to drop. “Summer slide”—the loss of reading progress over break—can erase 20% or more of what was learned. And once that momentum is gone, it’s rarely recovered. The Harvard Graduate School of Education even notes that after the first year of loss, little to no gain follows in the years that come.

So what do we do? We reframe reading as a cultural value, not just a school requirement.

I’ll be candid—I didn’t fall in love with reading until I was 34 years old. Better late than never. But once it clicked, it transformed how I viewed the world.

My friend Kevin Quinn, a lifelong reader with a degree in the classics, remembers his dad coming home from work in the 1970s and saying, “You’ve got two choices—go outside and play, or go read a book.” Growing up in Buffalo, Kevin chose books—especially when the cold kept him indoors.

For my own son, summer reading lists were the norm at his Jesuit high school. He’d spend most of the summer outside, living in the moment, but when August hit, he’d hunker down for a week of binge-reading to finish the list. It wasn’t always polished—but it built a muscle. And today, he still reads.

Now I see my grandkids—members of Generation Alpha—growing up fully immersed in digital devices. They’re bright, curious, and full of energy. But they need guidance to guard their attention spans. We try to encourage books alongside play, and we gently limit iPad time. It’s not about banning technology—it’s about giving reading a fighting chance to remain part of their rhythm.

And influence runs in both directions. My son now has the chance to shape the habits of his nephew—my 9-year-old grandson—who, like many kids his age, is a little too into PlayStation. Sometimes, the best messages don’t come from a parent—they come from an uncle, a cousin, or a grandparent. Maybe all it takes is a simple challenge: “Read for as long as you play.”

We could take a page from Malcolm Gladwell, who once wrote about how the American Cancer Society didn’t just raise awareness through commercials—they sparked a movement through community conversations. Hair salons were a key part of that success. Imagine if we took that same approach to reading. One real conversation. One bedtime story. One Kindle subscription. One nudge from a family member. It might just be enough.

If you’re still wondering why this matters, I point you to Garfinkle’s powerful whitepaper, The Erosion of Deep Literacy. It’s not just that fewer people read—it’s that we’re losing the ability to think deeply, empathize meaningfully, and analyze critically.

In a world addicted to quick takes and TikTok loops, reading remains our most underrated rebellion.

So this summer, forget flashy campaigns. Just ask your kids—or your grandkids—what they’re reading. And if they’re not, you’ve got a few choices: hand them a ball, set limits on PlayStation, or better yet—set a goal: read for as long as you play.

Christmas Cards

Mission accomplished: the Christmas cards are out! It’s no small feat—more like a marathon of creativity, logistics, and perseverance. First, there’s the final design, the anticipation of delivery from the publisher and the battle of the address list. I stay in my lane; the design is not in my job description—and never will be. Correcting addresses for the umpteenth time has become a holiday tradition in itself. List management is crucial: adding new friends, loved ones gone, and having that awkward “should we really still send them one?” moment.

Eloise might just make the Christmas card next year

And then, there’s the question: why do we send cards to old bosses or people we might not even like anymore? But isn’t that part of the season’s magic? The spirit of Christmas nudges us to rekindle connections, soften the edges of strained friendships, and perhaps even surprise someone who thought they were forgotten.

Next comes the production line: return address—front or back? Choosing the perfect Christmas stamp (adhesive or licked?). And wow, when did stamps get so expensive? Stuffing the envelopes with precision. And let’s not forget the dreaded envelope licking. Sorry, but those water contraptions? Useless. They warp the cards and steal the joy. Yes, licking is unpleasant, but tradition demands sacrifices. Paper cuts? They’re part of the journey.

And let’s call them what they are: Christmas cards. This widely celebrated holiday transcends borders and beliefs. It’s a shared tradition, a universal gesture of connection.

The silver lining of this annual ritual is reconnecting with friends and reflecting on those we’ve lost. Updating the list becomes a bittersweet exercise: deciding to keep one family member while leaving out another, or pausing to honor the memory of a loved one who’s passed on.

For me, the true joy comes from sitting side by side with my wife, assembling our cards while thinking of all the people who have touched our lives. And then there’s the incoming stream of cards! They arrive in a delightful variety of styles: updated family photos, handwritten notes, humor, and heartfelt messages. Some feature collages, while others stick to one perfect picture.

The big question: does the boyfriend or girlfriend make it into the photo this year, or are they left out? And, of course, the excitement when a new family member makes their debut on a friend’s card—a baby, a pet, or sometimes even a spouse who wasn’t there last year.

The mother lode usually arrives on December 22nd, with a flurry of deliveries that bring the kitchen counter to life. Then comes my favorite tradition: the annual “Best Late Card” award. It’s December 27th and we’ve already received five really good ones. It’s for the friend whose card arrives fashionably late, often with the disclaimer, “This year, we’re finally on time!”

Once Christmas arrives, the cards take on a new life. Displayed on the refrigerator, kitchen cabinets, or a special mantle, they become part of the holiday decor. Every visit to someone’s home becomes an opportunity to scan their display. Inevitably, there’s the moment when you spot an absence: “Wait—why didn’t we get a card from them this year?!”

And one of my proudest moments? Seeing our family card make it to the mirror of fame at my barber’s shop. It’s like a badge of honor, knowing our card sits alongside others in a place where conversations flow and connections are celebrated.

For me, the Christmas card represents more than just the joy of the season—it’s about connection. It’s a tradition that reminds us to pause and appreciate the people in our lives, to share laughter and memories, and to celebrate the love that surrounds us.

Happy Christmas—and may your cards be on time (or at least arrive with a fashionable excuse)!

The 2024 card touches all the bases