Between the books, articles and blogs, the parenting-advice industry churns out millions of words each year telling us how to raise successful, happy children.

A lot of this material crosses my desk, and I try to share the most helpful parts. But when I need real-life advice, I turn to a friend who has battled in the same trenches recently, and managed to raise wonderful adult children. That living proof of a kind, thriving adult is a convincing testimonial that something worked on the parenting side.

Recently, I surveyed dozens of parents I've admired over the years, who have enviable relationships with amazing adult children. I wanted to know how they navigated the tumultuous teenage years.

Looking back, when were they glad they'd said "no" to their teens?

It's difficult to set and consistently enforce boundaries with adolescents. Children at this age have better skills of persuasion than toddlers, but similar boundary-testing, over-reactive temperaments. They are also skilled at guilt-provoking mind games.

Themes emerged in the responses from the parents I interviewed. These were the top 10 situations in which parents were glad they stuck to their guns:

-- No to parties when they did not know the parent hosting it. Even when it mortified their children, parents called to ask if an adult would be at home during the party. Unsupervised high school parties were not allowed.

-- No to having friends over when there were no adults at home. Even when children are old enough to stay away from physical dangers, their brains are still developing. Having an adult nearby can prevent risky experimentation.

-- No to allowing extra riders in the car when a teen first got his or her license. It's too easy for inexperienced, young drivers to get distracted with a bunch of friends in the car.

-- No to a co-ed sleepover after prom. Some parents even banned single-sex sleepovers as a general rule, or limited sleepovers to homes of friends the parents knew well.

-- No to staying out too late. These parents set a curfew, and their children may have complained that it was earlier than when some of their friends had to be home. The parents said they encouraged making their home the "hang-out house," where their kids' friends could stay as late as they were allowed.

-- No to doing things for the kids that they could do themselves. It may have been easier and avoided tears and fights for parents to do certain tasks for their teens, but these parents said they knew teaching independence would serve their children far better in the long run.

-- No to getting every material thing they wanted. Teens were required to do chores around the house. Some parents expected their children to earn their own spending money by getting jobs.

-- No computers or televisions in the bedroom. The computers were kept in common areas. Now, of course, children can access powerful computers in their pockets, but the idea of setting limits on technology is still relevant.

-- No to TP-ing houses.

-- No to attending parties with alcohol. Not only is underage drinking illegal, these situations can lead to life-threatening consequences.

Of course, there will be times when a child will disregard a rule no matter how often or clearly it's been explained.

"Sometimes they push us because they want to see how much we really care," one parent said.

Just as important as what their children were prohibited from doing is what these parents made a point to do: They were present, active and available in their teen's lives. They kept a watchful eye without smothering them. They shared their expectations that their kids would put in the effort to do their best work in school. They talked to their teens, even when they realized that they were not going to be their friend.

The friendship can develop later, once the child matures into adulthood.

"Trust your instincts," one mother said. "And pray a lot."

I never expected to share a ride with former vice president Dick Cheney, of all people.

But here we are, on the same strange carousel of condemnation.

After the mass shooting in San Bernardino, California that claimed 14 lives last week, I felt the familiar revulsion, anger and heartache that the rest of the nation endures after such an attack. When the attack was linked to a self-identified Muslim married couple, I felt worse that these killers had allegedly twisted religious beliefs to commit barbaric acts of violence.

Islamic clerics have issued fatwas against terrorism for years. Local Muslim communities and national Islamic organizations relentlessly speak publicly and condemn crimes committed by anyone claiming to be Muslim -- terrorists who would just as easily kill me or any other American Muslim family in an indiscriminate attack.

I've been part of this chorus of condemnation, although I'm not sure who I'm trying to sway. Potential ISIS recruits? They could care less what any sane person thinks of them. Bigots who hate all Muslims? They wouldn't believe me anyway.

It's strange to think civil servants, religious leaders, scholars and ordinary citizens would need to say something as obvious as "murder is wrong, and terrorists don't share our beliefs." But maybe in these times, when significant segments of the population deny facts, and aspiring political leaders lie without compunction, it's necessary to state the obvious.

"To remain silent -- I don't think that's a viable alternative, especially when the New York Post front page screams 'Muslim Killers,'" as it did after the San Bernardino shootings, said Ibrahim Hooper, spokesman for the Council on American-Islamic Relations, in an interview with the AP.

Perhaps Cheney also felt a little ridiculous having to point out that Donald Trump's recent proposal to bar all Muslims from entering the country is wrong and doesn't reflect American beliefs. "I think this whole notion that somehow we need to say 'no more Muslims' and just ban a whole religion goes against everything we stand for and believe in. I mean, religious freedom has been a very important part of our history," Cheney said.

And this is coming from a guy who has a penchant for going to war on sketchy intelligence.

There are, of course, steps beyond condemnation that Cheney and I can take against a lunatic fringe group that doesn't represent our values or beliefs.

I donated some money toward the crowd-funded initiative "Muslims United for San Bernardino," a month-long effort to help victims' families that has raised more than $80,000 in the first five days. Maybe Cheney can throw in a few bucks toward Republican efforts to denounce Trump's anti-American proposals.

If I hear anyone questioning whether these two shooters were actually tied to radical jihadists, I speak up about all the various agencies saying it's a likely scenario. I argue for evidence and logic, and against conspiracy theories. Perhaps Cheney can also speak up in private circles where he hears fascism-creep, and not just against the most extreme and dangerous things Trump says.

I make an effort to involve my children in service projects led by Christian churches and attend Jewish celebrations hosted by our friends. We invite people of all faiths, and those who are agnostic or atheist, into our home regularly. I'd welcome Cheney to visit the volunteer-run clinic staffed by Muslim American doctors in St. Louis providing free health care to whomever walks in the door.

I don't want another person to be recruited by the sick, delusional and depraved cult of ISIS. I'm positive Cheney doesn't want any American radicalized by hate speech to kill people at a Planned Parenthood clinic or in an African-American church. I'm sure we both want our country to do a better job keeping guns and stockpiles of weapons away from mentally unstable and dangerous people. At the same time, the government must also do a better job gathering and sharing intelligence about such people.

When we join together against the threats facing us, our united responses reveal our strength to our enemies.

Our actions speak far louder than our condemnations.

When Nancy McGee set up a Swap and Sell Facebook page for her hometown nearly four years ago, she figured it would be a good way to reuse and recycle things among a circle of trusted friends and neighbors.

She joined thousands of other communities where the local Buy, Swap and Sell Facebook page has become the never-ending garage sale. Millions of people trade, buy and sell on these sites across the world. In Kirkwood, a suburb of St. Louis, the page has also morphed into a coffee klatch, a community bulletin board and a hub for social activism.

More than a dozen lost dogs have been found through the page. Readers have also retrieved lost backpacks stuffed with missing homework assignments. Someone offered to lend a neighbor a pair of cowboy boots for their child's school production of "Oklahoma!"

Beyond sharing and selling among themselves, Kirkwood residents have also collected countless bags of clothing and shoes to donate to the homeless. Hundreds of dollars have been raised for local causes.

"It became more than getting rid of an old sweater," McGee said. "There's a back-in-the-day community kind of sharing, lending and helping one another in this new digital way."

It goes beyond the virtual connection the Internet does so well. That sense of community spills into real life.

It gave Christina Ramirez, 40, a renewed appreciation for what it means to feel at home in your community.

After about 11 happy years in Kirkwood, she and her family moved further west to Washington, Missouri, three years ago after her husband was laid off. Her teenage daughter transferred to Union High School and faced racial slurs and harassment frequently, Ramirez said. They called her "wetback" and asked her where her green card was.

"I was never exposed to anything like that in my whole entire life," Ramirez said. Her daughter was crying all the time, having migraines and refusing to go to school. When Ramirez took her to the doctor, he advised her family to move back to Kirkwood. A year and a half later, they did.

Wanting to give back to a community she now appreciated more than ever, Ramirez connected with a local church that helps the homeless, which had long been her family's mission. She joined the Kirkwood Swap and Sell page and posted a request for donations for the homeless.

"It was just phenomenal," she said. "I've never seen a community join together like this." There was such a steady stream of donations dropped off at her home that items started accumulating on the front yard. One neighbor complained about the eyesore, and another started a GoFundMe page to buy the Ramirezes a shed. They raised $730.

The shed continues to fill up regularly, and Ramirez finds places to deliver the goods just as quickly. Local pastor Felix Gibson comes and picks up donations every Wednesday, for distribution to the homeless on Saturdays.

Swap and Sell members have donated time, as well: Two Kirkwood moms joined Ramirez and her family on Thanksgiving at a church in north St. Louis to help serve food and distribute donations.

Page founder McGee, who owns a local clothing shop, says the online group grew to more than 3,000 people, so she added three more administrators to help run it.

People think it's a company, she said. Some have messaged her wanting to contact customer service, "but it's not like our job," she laughed. The administrators do it for free, on their own time.

Ramirez, who volunteers more than 40 hours a week coordinating pickups, drop-offs and distribution to various charities, understands that spirit.

She's used the page to collect toys for children from needy families for Christmas, leftover Halloween candy to share with those in shelters, and books and stuffed animals for inner-city students. She takes clothes for children in foster care and household items for families in low-income housing.

"I feel if I don't do my part, I'm letting them down," she said.

She knows what it feels like to be treated like an outsider. And she doesn't take for granted how welcome and trusted she feels in Kirkwood, a mostly white suburb with a history of its own racial divides.

In 1991, Kirkwood annexed Meacham Park, a historic black neighborhood in St. Louis County, impacting the residents there. The issues between Meacham Park and Kirkwood are longstanding, and city leaders have tried to bridge that divide.

And now, a Facebook page has turned into an unlikely place for healing.