I did something on Monday that I haven’t done in years: I went on a field trip with my younger son.1
We — me and about 60 5th graders — did a scavenger hunt around Capitol Hill, with stops at the U.S. Capitol, Supreme Court and Library of Congress. We went to the National Gallery of Art where the kids presented on paintings (about Greek mythology) they had researched. We ate box lunches. We talked about their favorite desserts. And why Disney cruises are the best.2
It was one of the best days I have had in a very long time.
Unemployment is a funny thing.3 There’s no blueprint for it. Your days are your own. You can spend them how you want. You can do nothing. Or a lot.
I’ve wrestled with the right way to approach all of this over the last five months. Schedule meeting after meeting? Stay at home and write and write and write? Do less?
The more people you ask, the more different answers you get. And they’re all well meaning! But, again: No blueprint.
And, I am not a great no blueprint guy. I like knowing what today looks like. And tomorrow. And the week after that.
Not being able to see that far in the future — or really at all in the future — has always caused me anxiety. I like to be in control. And when you are unemployed, you are definitely not always (or often) in control.
Which brings me back to Monday and our field trip. My only goal for the day was a) making sure no one got hurt and b) making sure no one got lost. (I only had four kids, including my own, under my charge — thankfully.)
I didn’t worry about what my next job will be. Or whether I should be emailing people about it. Or whether I should be online at all.
The only time I took my phone out the entire day — the field trip ran from 8:30 am to 2:30 pm — was to take pictures of the kids in front of the Capitol and the Supreme Court.
We debated about where the House and Senate were, how many people are on the frieze above the Supreme Court (it’s 9 by our count) and what Athena actually looked like.
(Best quote of the day — while observing the fountain in front of the Library of Congress: “Whoa, Poseidon is jacked.”)
No one asked me about my future. Or what I thought of CNN and its future. Or what I thought of much of anything — other than when we were having lunch and whether $10 was too much for a milkshake.4 (It is -- by a lot.)
My son told me at least three times how much fun he was having and how he was really glad I was there. (I teared up then — and tear up now writing those words.)
Taken as a whole, the day reminded me of the biggest lesson I have learned in unemployment: That it’s my family who gives me real meaning.
For a very long time, I defined myself as CNN’s Chris Cillizza. Or the Washington Post’s Chris Cillizza. Where I worked was who I was. Or a BIG part of who I was.
It was only when that was taken from me that I realized what I had been doing — and why it needed to change.
Don’t get me wrong. I still LOVE the media. I still root like hell for all of my friends at CNN. I still am aiming to get back into the media at some point in the not-that-distant future. It’s a great business and I miss it.
What’s changed for me is that the way I define myself now is as a dad and a husband.
I drop my kids off at the bus most days. And pick them up too. I haven’t missed a baseball game or soccer game in months. I have become a more attentive husband (I think, but my wife gets the final say on this) — less distracted by whatever email I just got on my phone.
This transition wasn’t planned. Nor has it been easy. But, Monday’s field trip affirmed for me that something has changed in me. For the better.
Belatedly, this is why I didn’t write anything on Monday. Sorry not sorry!
This was the kids’ opinion. I have never been on a Disney cruise and am generally skeptical of cruises in general.
ICYMI: CNN laid me off at the end of 2022.
Not an exaggeration: Milkshakes at the food trucks in downtown DC are $10!
Long time fan and lurker, Chris. This made me smile AND tear up. Good for you.
I'm so glad that you enjoyed such a wonderful day in Washington, DC with your son and three of his classmates.