I know my column is from my personal perspective, and often about my personal life. Yet I feel this topic is more confessional than many others and affects me too often. I take things too personally. Having this deficiency is truly toxic when you are raising kids or beginning a new marriage, both of which define my present state of affairs.

Let’s give some examples and see how many of you relate to them. Easy ones are when ShortRib (my wife) isn’t smiling, isn’t talking much, or doesn’t respond quickly to an e-mail, or text of mine. I always assume that it’s my fault or something I’ve done.

Diversity is a nine-letter word; so is parenting. ShortRib (my wife) and I met a wonderful couple on our recent honeymoon that, at first, we thought and they thought represented the most diversity in a couple any of us knew. In fact, they were written up as just such a phenomenon in a local paper in their hometown. David is a 55-year-old, liberal, white Jewish lawyer, while Farah is a 40-year-old, conservative, black Christian, non-profit worker. Key thing about them; no kids, by their mutual choice. However, they’ve been married 10 years and, on the surface, have one of the best rapports between couples we observed on the entire cruise and safari, where we encountered quite a large mix of couples.

It’s high time I wrote a column that stirs some reaction, creates some controversy, and isn’t so sweet and nice. No gratitude for surviving what should have been a deadly car crash, no treatises on the values of volunteering, or even about the importance of spending more quantity time with your kids. After all, this is a man’s point-of-view, not some touchy-feely new age guru. Look at the magazine rack at your local bookstore. The women’s section is literally full, while the men’s section mostly consists of magazines about cars, motorcycles, or supermen who climb ridiculously high mountains without oxygen. We won’t even talk about daytime television where Oprah and Ellen dominate. I don’t count Dr. Phil, for obvious reasons.

The ‘50s ideal of the nuclear family is clearly a thing of the past as most statistics readily confirm. Divorce is rampant and the definition of family is undergoing constant scrutiny and redefinition. For my family, we’ve been dealing with a new Step-Mom, as I just got married, this past December 27 (2008). My new wife might argue that she is going through the greatest adjustment, while my boys and I might argue otherwise. I’ll let you be the judge, but first I want to officially introduce my family members, not by name, but by nickname.

One of the clichés about volunteerism is the fact that you often get more than you give. In my case, it was in ways and means I least expected. I’ve just become a Big Brother, again, to a 7-year-old boy and a Mentor to a 22-year-old young man. As these relationships are new, I don’t yet know what lessons I will learn. But, I know well the lessons I learned the first time around.

I became a Big Brother, long before I was married or a parent. My life, at that time, was pretty heady. In my early 30’s, I had a successful showbiz career in which I was paid way too much for having so much fun, I lived in a lovely home in a chic part of town, had two cars, and no one to worry about other than myself.

As Mother’s Day rolls around once again, I find myself reflecting this year on the different obligations we feel towards those mothers in our lives, at different times and passages in our lives. As this is the second Mother’s Day since my own mother died, I can’t help but remember her with the fondest recollections, avoiding the sad, last, and declining years of her life when a stroke took away her sparkle and delightful personality.

Perspective is something that allows us to appreciate our lives, our families, and our country. Lately, with so much bad news surrounding us, and after just returning from Africa where such extreme poverty exists everywhere, I find myself reflecting on one of those “People” magazine-type stories about someone living through a life threatening experience and coming out a changed person. It’s a story I’ve shared with my boys, when they were upset about a trivial matter, as it happened to me.

Driving alone on 395, I fell asleep at the wheel. In the middle of nowhere with only my dog as company, and the cruise control set in the low 70s, I drifted off to sleep as the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, in spite of a Monster drink (Red Bull equivalent) and in spite of stopping several times to stretch and do some jumping jacks. Lost in thought, I just slipped away to “Neverland.” Well, “Neverland” almost became just that; never more.

The journey from child, to teen, to young adult to parent seems to have similar stops along the way for most everyone. My college years were during the "age of stupidity," as a man I greatly respect refers to the ‘60s and early ‘70s. As a love-child and soon-to-be yuppie, I was thoroughly convinced that I would be a different parent to any children I might have than my parents were to me.

My wife is Christian; I’m Jewish. Since we were not going to have children together, this wasn’t much of an issue since this was a second marriage for both of us. We did have the Christmas tree problem but resolved that amicably, by at first going to her parent’s house to celebrate Christmas with them. When my wife got sick and we couldn’t make it that year, I relented and we brought the Christmas tree into our home.

Now we’re celebrating both Christmas and Hannukah in our home and, more recently, I’ve even attended her church (Calvary Community Church in Westlake Village, California).

This issue, of religion in the home is a touchy one for most couples getting married, especially as they plan on having and raising children. It’s not a simple question nor is there a simple answer. I believe it’s extremely important for a couple to discuss this, in depth, before they marry or have children if they believe and practice different faiths.

There’s no question that technology changes faster than most of us yuppies and boomers can handle. I don’t know what the current number of years for technology “generations” is, but I do know that if you have children five or more years apartin age, they will each use technology differently. I’ve observed my own two boys, just three years apart, using social media/smart phones each in his own distinct way. My younger son relies almost exclusively on texting, while my older son actually occasionally talks on his cell-phone.