my parents are baby boomers

we never had cable

we didn’t grow up getting game consoles or handhelds

I didn’t get my first cellphone until 6th grade. It was a flip phone with calling, texting, and a low resolution camera.

Boredom was cured with legos, sticks, playgrounds, and play dates. Imagination.

Kid Pix and Busy Town were my Roblox and Fortnite. But on a PC.

If I wanted to talk to a friend, I would walk to their house, use the corded phone, or occasionally send a letter. Yes, postal.

My oldest daughter was born in 2022.

My youngest in 2025.

Screens are part and parcel with their world. Instant connectivity to people, experiences, consumption, and influence.

I told myself that our children wouldn’t be raised with screens in their face, soothing every discomfort, curing every bout of boredom.

Why?

Observations of the outside world tells me that anything in excess is harmful.

The observations of children and youth whose minds are being molded by bright lights, overwhelming saturation of colors, noise, imagery, and targeted stimulation.

Movies and tv shows appear to be so well crafted to capture and hold the attention span of the audience. The social media platforms that our impressionable youth are given access to have influenced entire generations of young people that manicured lifestyles portraying consumption, fast living, flashy cars, ridiculously expensive homes, lavish unending luxury, is all they need strive for.

The most vulnerable among us being fed messaging and imaging that spits in the face of natures beauty, kicks aside gift of imagination, humility, and graceful discipline.

I observe children so discontent with their own lives because it looks nothing like Kim Kardashians or any of the countless celebrities or influencers whose lifestyles are guaranteed so long as our children’s and youths minds are maintaining the mantra of “consume, copy, clone”.

The screens and their outputs are designed with intention to maintain fixation, dependence, and degradation of cognitive acuity and physical vitality.

The mind is a great and powerful source of creation, healing, transcending, and consciousness.

The body a great system of information, sensors, receptors, and channels.

Our children’s and young people are to be protected from predatory platforms whose profit margins are inextricably linked to the length of time, attention, and energy are spent engaging with their products.

I stay away from highly color saturated, fast paced, and morally depraved media.

I encourage parents, families, and educators to observe and research the impacts of modern screen usage, studies behind modern shows and movies and their usage of colors, sounds, and imagery to grip the cognitive receptors in charge of attention.

Go outside and be!

Don’t run from silence.

Don’t run from boredom.

Embrace the slow pace and natural rhythms in nature. Emulate them in your nervous system.

Take a breath.

Hug a tree.

Listen to the birds.

Smell the flowers.

Put your feet in the soil.

Create intentional relationships with the natural environment.

Slow down and live.

my parents are baby boomers

we never had cable

we didn’t grow up getting game consoles or handhelds

I didn’t get my first cellphone until 6th grade. It was a flip phone with calling, texting, and a low resolution camera.

Boredom was cured with legos, sticks, playgrounds, and play dates. Imagination.

Kid Pix and Busy Town were my Roblox and Fortnite. But on a PC.

If I wanted to talk to a friend, I would walk to their house, use the corded phone, or occasionally send a letter. Yes, postal.

My oldest daughter was born in 2022.

My youngest in 2025.

Screens are part and parcel with their world. Instant connectivity to people, experiences, consumption, and influence.

I told myself that our children wouldn’t be raised with screens in their face, soothing every discomfort, curing every bout of boredom.

Why?

Observations of the outside world tells me that anything in excess is harmful.

The observations of children and youth whose minds are being molded by bright lights, overwhelming saturation of colors, noise, imagery, and targeted stimulation.

Movies and tv shows appear to be so well crafted to capture and hold the attention span of the audience. The social media platforms that our impressionable youth are given access to have influenced entire generations of young people that manicured lifestyles portraying consumption, fast living, flashy cars, ridiculously expensive homes, lavish unending luxury, is all they need strive for.

The most vulnerable among us being fed messaging and imaging that spits in the face of natures beauty, kicks aside gift of imagination, humility, and graceful discipline.

I observe children so discontent with their own lives because it looks nothing like Kim Kardashians or any of the countless celebrities or influencers whose lifestyles are guaranteed so long as our children’s and youths minds are maintaining the mantra of “consume, copy, clone”.

The screens and their outputs are designed with intention to maintain fixation, dependence, and degradation of cognitive acuity and physical vitality.

The mind is a great and powerful source of creation, healing, transcending, and consciousness.

The body a great system of information, sensors, receptors, and channels.

Our children’s and young people are to be protected from predatory platforms whose profit margins are inextricably linked to the length of time, attention, and energy are spent engaging with their products.

I stay away from highly color saturated, fast paced, and morally depraved media.

I encourage parents, families, and educators to observe and research the impacts of modern screen usage, studies behind modern shows and movies and their usage of colors, sounds, and imagery to grip the cognitive receptors in charge of attention.

Go outside and be!

Don’t run from silence.

Don’t run from boredom.

Embrace the slow pace and natural rhythms in nature. Emulate them in your nervous system.

Take a breath.

Hug a tree.

Listen to the birds.

Smell the flowers.

Put your feet in the soil.

Create intentional relationships with the natural environment.

Slow down and live.

Before becoming a parent I used to scoff when I heard parents talking to each other, or anyone for that matter, about how quickly their kids grew up; how fast the time went by, and they never thought they’d see the day… This was all sappy parent talk that felt as cliche as the pumpkin spice latte clutched in the hands of these parents gathered around a playground in the fall. I would think to myself, “Really? It happened that fast Dale?” or “Jennifer, your kids are in their late twenties now, it took years from them to get there, it did not happen all at once.” Of course, I’m too polite to voice what may of us who don’t have kids are almost always thinking. Instead I would laugh alongside them and indulge in their walks down memory lane as they gushed about the diaper days, the potty training, wild injuries, numerous ‘firsts’, and so on. Every story the same and every story different.

As someone who has always loved kids, I understood how easily one becomes obsessed over every little thing that their kid, sibling, etc does. As a parent, the obsession is infinitely times deeper than I’d ever imagined. The bond is unexplainable yet so obvious. The connection is intangible yet so palpable you could reach out and touch it. There is nothing on this planet that compares to falling in love with your child. It is the paradox of all paradoxes, the grail of all grails, the experience of a lifetime. Your life rapidly becomes both meaningless in the sense that your prior conception of reality, direction, and expectations are evaporated, and simultaneously every fiber of your being is imbued with the essence of the primordial instinct of raising, protecting, and loving a child. In an instant the mechanisms of fatherhood turn on and begin working full-bore. The calculations of time, choice, person, place, sound, smell, touch, taste, temperature, texture, depth, degree, and everything else present in time and space are done so rapidly that it would make an AI program scratch its head.

Overcoming certain societal stereotypes on the way a family ‘should’ look, the way a child ‘should’ be conceived, and the position in life that one ‘should’ be in before raising kids is a part of being a Father that often goes unspoken, undisclosed, and hidden. The judgements of family, friends, and strangers way heavy on the shoulders. I had to learn, with help and encouragement from my Mentor, that there is no such thing as a perfect father or a perfect family. Again, another cliche saying that seemed barely scratch the massive irritant that was deep below the surface of what I was feeling. I recall the many weeks of battling with myself over how well I was juggling parenting, work, and my personal life. The first few months are the honeymoon phase and easily digestible, in my case. As time moved on and the last drips of honey dripped from the soft moonlit sky, the mile high walls of parenting for life set in. We battled not over parenting choices but over personality differences, relationship challenges, and adjusting to this new found life as stranger-co-parents.

I think God smiled on the day he paired me with my daughters Mother. He chuckled heartily as he drew up the perfectly imperfect plan of bringing together two strangers to co-create the most perfect child He’d ever had the pleasure of creating. He listened to my calls, the ones I placed late at night after a bout of partying. “I just want wife and kids.” I would say over and over again. Yeah, sure, the night out was “fun” but what is it all for? What am I doing? I wanted companionship, fulfillment, something more meaningful. No number of wild nights around the town fed the void in my stomach that yearned for a deeper purpose.

God heard me calling. Who know’s me better than the one who created me. He knew I wasn’t ready for marriage but he knew I wasn’t “ready” to be a Father either. He answered the call and the rest is history, in the making. January 17th, 2022 I became a father to a beautiful little girl who forever changed my life. It seems like just yesterday that I met you in the hospital and stared at your sleeping face, peacefully and gracefully you laid there as my heart soaked in every bit of your spirit. I never thought you’d grow past the day I first met you. Never did I think you would be running through the house, pens in hand, hair a beautiful mess, mouth filled with teeth (oddly she has 12 at 15 months), belly round and tight. I could gush on about her many firsts in just this short time, but I’ll save that for later.

P.S., she is officially off of bottles/formula. Where has the time gone?

What is your calling?

My calling is to share my story and inspire people to live their life on purpose. 

The power of a story. I recall long ago as a young boy, I had a deep sense of need to meet every person in the world. I didn’t think much of this thought as life went on. However, today, as I was driving across the Astoria Megler Bridge, this memory found its way to the forefront of my mind. The allure of hearing the unique story of each and every person was tantalizing. There is something mystical about hearing the life story of a stranger. Their lives are completely unknown to me yet their story contains something tacitly familiar. I found this fondness for stories a recurring theme throughout my life - particularly so in my late teens and early twenties. 

One of the most impactful moments in my life occurred one spring afternoon in Irvington at our home on 13th Avenue. I woke up late in the afternoon, I was about 18 or 19 years old at the time, the sun was shining through the windows of my bedroom, the walls painted pink with some flower patterned wallpaper remnant of when my sister occupied the room as a child. As I rolled over to check my phone, the time read something like 2 or 3 pm. I slept most of the day away. No responsibilities, No obligations. No direction. As I gazed blankly at the pink room, feelings of angst washed over me. In the distance I heard the laughter of children playing during recess, their voices filled with optimism, joy, and excitement. Worr

y-free. Their existence is pure. 

A voice suddenly came to me, seemingly out of thin air. This voice was different from the standard voice we all hear narrating our life, thinking our thoughts, and processing our emotions. It whispered, “if I were to die right now, I would not be remembered for anything positive.” As quickly and mysteriously as it came, it was gone. I lay there, ears ringing with the sounds of children’s laughter and my mind suspended in a state of deep reflection on what I’d just heard. 

From that day forward, I began a journey of discovering what my purpose was. I had an unshakable desire to leave a positive impact on this earth. Where to start? I did not have a clear cut answer. I knew I had to act, whatever the step, whatever the choice, I had to do something. 

 I searched deep within my mind for some anchor point of reality, I changed by time, unmoved by the whims of failure or the highs of accomplishment. Something that sat so near my soul that the two would be indistinguishable if held next to each other. I was searching for the part of me that was unique and special. The part of me unlike any other. What made me, me? What do I see as a part of myself that would be useful to this world?

My mind traveled to something my cousin, a former Wall Street guy once told me, “Figure out what you like doing and figure out how to get paid for it.” I’d always admired my cousin Seth, he was a stoic guy with a sarcastic sense of humor. I remember Christmas on the San Juan Islands at his parents home on Lopez Island, he’d be fixated on his Blackberry day in and day out. Always working. It was a treat to even sit near him and watch him plug away at work. His parents didn’t care for it much but, now as a parent, I wouldn’t be too mad if my adult daughter was a workaholic. His brother Noah, a Lawyer working at a top 20 law firm in the U.S. and I formed and maintained a closer relationship over my late teens and early twenties. We would talk once or twice a month for an hour or more about life, school, careers, and the like. I couldn’t tell you where or why our relationship grew the way it did, but it holds a place in my life and in my heart that is not easily forgotten. I guess, when looking back, both Seth and Noah had pivotal roles in catalyzing my growth and maturity through the trying ages of 19 - 24. 

Armed with Seth’s question, I looked for answers. What did I like doing? Well, I’ve always been great with kids. Everyone of my family members (mainly my cousins who are easily 20 + years older than I am) who had kids made mention of how well, naturally, I connected with their infants. I took this truth and asked myself the second part of the question Cousin Seth posed to me, “figure out how to get paid for it.” Well, teachers work with kids, let’s try that out. Nineteen year olds don’t become teachers overnight. Luckily, I lived about 50 yards from the elementary school I had grown up attending. One day, a week or so after this revelation, I decided that I’d take a stroll through Irvington park, coincidentally I bumped into my little sister's Kindergarten teacher and a neighborhood celebrity, Teacher Jody. She welcomed me with a big hug and warm smile, asked me how I was doing and what my life plans were, I answered her in short with “things are well, I’m going to school at PCC for my associates and I’m exploring careers that involve working with youth.” She lit up instantly and asked if I’d like to volunteer in her classroom on Friday’s. I immediately answered YES! 

For nearly 2 years, I spent the majority of my Fridays in Jody’s classroom with her amazing, lovable, bright, and wholesome human beings. As I write this, I’m met with a wave of emotions and nostalgia. The joy that would animate their spirits when I walked into the classroom was palpable. They would all drop what they were doing and race to the door to give me a hug. They may never know how impactful and significant that love and excitement meant to me. Being nineteen is a scary age, you aren’t an adult by any means whatsoever, but you are certainly not a child. You are expected to have an idea of where you are taking your life and to know how to get there. At least that is what I told myself. 

I formed very special connections with many of the boys and girls in Jody's classroom. Many of the relationships extended to the families and siblings of the kids. Babysitting started happening, weekends with the kids at Grant or Dishman pool followed, and soon enough I’d realized that it was not a teacher I wanted to be, with the confines of the classroom I felt limited, it was a Coach/Mentor and Founder of a Community Center. I wanted to create my own camps, programs, and experiences for boys and girls to be inspired, challenged, empowered, and seen. 

The same feeling that the kids unintentionally gave me, I wanted to return to them, tenfold.

Why do I write? 

I write because my calling asks it of me. My voice, my mind, and my Spirit are my tools to be used to positively impact the world. Through my writing I connect with those who seek answers to seemingly impossible questions and to the seemingly obvious ones. The answers are not my own recipe for success, rather they are anecdotes from my lived experience or insights and reflections on a presented situation. 

Writing is my currency. It is the scribed ebb and documented flow of my story. It is an endless network of consciousness rivers, lakes, valleys, and forests to be explored by those who seek an adventure through them. Mountains of failures cast shadows over swaths of these lands, yet they do not rule supreme. The towering trees with thick branches and bright colors fully reign supreme here. These trees of triumph are slow to grow, yes. However, their truth is evident in bountiful gatherings across my life’s path. Forests full of fantastic trees whose branch houses the robin's nest and whose leaves shade the forest floor so creatures can crawl and the deer may feed on fruited foliage growing at their feet. These trees began as the smallest of seeds, whispers of life spoke softly into the crust of the earth. Buried between decaying leaves and moist blades of grass, most vulnerable of things once its husk breaks open and dares to sprout. 

A great risk it takes to establish roots and burrow down under, into the dark abyss. What, you say, is found down there? The truth is, we may never know what lurks in the recess of our subconscious mind, but if planted a seed, and fed are the roots, up will sprout a tree, the tree of truth. 

My story goes for as far as the eye can see, past the rolling hills and fruited plains. It extends beyond the mountains of doubt whose caps are covered with frozen water, waiting to be melted by the heat of the loving sun whose seasonal visits release the mountain caps of their frozen visitors. Ironically, these mountains of doubt are essential to the landscape of my story and are also essential to ecosystems all over the planet. Doubt and fear gave birth to the dubious and treacherous beast who roams and vows to thwart any attempt at ascension. They billow and howl day in and day out, snarling and snapping their frozen fangs at any who dare approach. What am I to do? Does the story end in a bloody and heroic death? Does my story go on to tell the tale of an epic battle between the bests of fear and doubt and faith, love, and determination? 

The risk has to be taken. The trees of truth bear fruit richly when nurtured properly, however, the seeds must first begin by taking the first step and opening their husk,  reaching down inside the earth - seeking to establish a life-line. The step has to be taken to ascend in the face of certain fear and doubt. First we have to establish a connection, inwardly with self and our source in order to summon the grace and courage to face the mountain peaks.

At times I wonder if my content is worth reading, posting, and sharing with the world. That voice in my head reminds me that a “real” writer has an up and running website, they have organized layouts for their writing projects, they have this, they have that… You know that voice that seems to have birthed itself from a serum of all the negative things I’ve bought into about myself, often sold by others. 

Fortunately, that voice is speaking to a less and less interested audience, internally that is. I’m certain there are and will always be those not far from me that are betting against me. “He won’t stay consistent with this…” “Who does he think he is?” “Did he really publish an article about parenting? What does he know.” You get the picture, right? Well, I say to you with all respect, you know me not well at all. You are a stranger to me as I am to you, fore if you knew my heart and you could get close enough to me to get a glimpse of my vision, oh how your tune would change. Worry not, self proclaimed friend or subtle foe, you will have a packed house in your echo-chamber of doubt. The noise you bring is welcomed in the halls of days old, yet the newest amphitheater being erected has no room for your antiquated beliefs and tainted spirit. The temple is open for those to receive the Truth of Alexander T. McPherson and those who doubt, well the doors are open too, but your eyes won’t let you see and your ears severed from sound, he who drinks from the poisonous past and barks madness at the sight of a new day. 

As I pen the pieces of a new page and process the happenings of the day, I notice an absence of the usual stress and angst of overthinking my future. As of late, my writing practice has worked wonders in both sharpening my writing tools but simultaneously massaging out the kinks, troubles, and woes of the day. Each day has been noticeably more enjoyable and fulfilling than the next. Certainly days ahead will bring a myriad of trails and tribulations and I welcome them, it would be foolish to repress the realities of life and natures way of constantly evolving and shifting the balance. 

Remember this, present in my life as well as your own are plenty of things, people, experiences, and memories to be grateful for. Do not lose sight of them. Anchor yourself to the process rather than the outcome and destination. Enjoy the turbulence as much as you do the colorful horizons and starry nights. Embrace the challenges as much as the victories and maintain an internal sense of equilibrium and stability.

Each day is an opportunity to cast a positive vote for the person we wish to become. (Atomic Habits) 

Amelia Earhart once said “the easiest way to do something is to do it…” At 29 years of age and still yet to fly a plane, let alone solo across the Atlantic Ocean. This, however, is not the instrument through which I choose to measure my success. I’ve decided that the easiest and most straightforward way to get from where I am to where I want to be is the first step, deciding to take the step. Therefore, the most effective way to measure my success is in the steps (both quantity and quality) I’ve taken towards becoming.

Hello, my name is Alexander T. McPherson, I’m a writer and photographer from Portland, Oregon. I once read that in order to write a great book, one must first become the book. A book is nothing without an author and an author is nothing without their work, right? Well, my book starts here, but my story began on warm Wednesday in August of ‘93.

Why is it so hard to write the first page? I guess I should ask my daughters why it took them 11 months to take their first steps, but I’ve been walking for nearly three decades now and I have yet to encounter anyone curious about why it took me as long as it did to walk or write the first page of my book - aside from the fact that the first page has yet to be written, technically. Now, somewhere down the line, I can expect to be approached by a stranger whose read my work and asked “Mr. McPherson, why did it take you 29 years to finally write that first page?” ($100.00 to the first person to do this!) My answer would be this, “I couldn’t tell you if you paid me. But what I do know is, had I not taken the step of deciding to become the writer I am, I would die a regretful person.” A life worth living is one lived with purpose - I believe strongly that my purpose as a writer and photographer is to share, catalyze, investigate, and unify individuals, communities, and entities with the intention of improving their experiences, their outcomes, and their trajectory.

My story, like your own, is unique - it is complex and ugly. It is beautiful and vibrant, teeming with rich lessons and oozing with intrigue. Like you, I want to feel secure, understood, and respected by others. Like you, I yearn for a life worth living. Fulfillment. From where I sit to where I will lay resting on my final day, I long to leave this earth a fraction of a percent better than when I arrived. I have not material riches nor luxuries of the 5 senses, however, I have my mind, my heart, and a Spirit whose voice seeks to bring comfort to the suffering, wisdom to the ignorant, love to the broken, and inspiration to those of all of us who are learning to steer steady our ship towards the North Star.

Follow along with me and join in this odyssey of life.

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