Changing minds. Occasionally.

I make a lot of arguments in writing, both on my blog, via social media, in the magazine columns I write, and in the occasional newspaper pieces that I publish.

I say a lot. And I admittedly have a lot to say.

My intention is always to express myself. Make my positions clear. Argue forcefully about the things I believe in while remaining open to debate, disagreement, new information, and even the occasional counter-punching.

But I’m realistic about what I do. I don’t expect the majority of readers to take my side. I expect few if any to change their minds. I know that people almost always read my thoughts and opinions and continue with their lives, unmoved and unchanged.

But every once in a while, something different happens. Someone reaches out to me, and I am both shocked and delighted.

Yesterday was one of those days.

A woman wrote to tell me that what I had written a while back had changed her mind. At the time of our online exchange, she was, in her own words, a “super right-wing conservative southern baptist” but says that thanks in part to what I wrote, she has “seen the error of my ways.”

"I'm still a Christian," she says. "But I'm now a mellow liberal Episcopalian. My church is very inclusive and does a lot of social justice work.”

I couldn’t believe it. I had to read it twice.

I don’t remember what I said to her with any specificity, but she told me that I never said anything cruel to her. “It was a friendly debate.”

Politicians are often fighting for that unicorn-like undecided voter, or more often, they are simply trying to turn out their base. Get their tribe to the polls. Few if any believe that they can really change a person’s mind, and sometimes I believe the same.

Foolishly, it would seem.

The woman ended her email by saying, “I wanted to let you know the impact you had on my politics and worldview.”

The lesson here is simple:

Speak your truth. Don’t be afraid to engage. Try like hell to be heard. You never know when something you say can make a real difference in a person’s life.

Spy magazine's prank from 30 years ago is more remarkable now than it was then.

The following is a true thing. Also, it seems absolutely impossible. Impossible to me and perhaps to you. When I first read about it, I assumed it was false. A hoax.

But no. It’s true. I checked and rechecked. This really happened.

Here goes:

30 years ago, Spy magazine sent “refund” checks for $1.11 to 58 millionaires and billionaires.

A little less than half - 26 in all - cashed their check. Spy then sent those 26 another check for $0.64.

Half of them - 13 in all - cashed that check and then received another check from Spy for $0.13.

Only two of the remaining millionaires and billionaires cashed their $0.13 checks.

Who were those millionaires and billionaires?

Donald Trump and the uncle of murdered Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi.

The universe is a strange and incomprehensible place.

Dr. Seuss's The Grinch is feminist and lovely.

Elysha and I took Charlie to see Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch last weekend. It’s a great film, not unlike the cartoon that we grew up watching on television. And I’ve always thought it was a pretty brilliant story:

Christmas is stolen from the Whos, but still they gather and sing on Christmas day, just as joyously as any other Christmas, causing the Grinch’s heart to grow two sizes larger.

Smart.

Here’s an unexpected twist in this version that I adored:

Little Cindy Lou Woo, the child who encounters the Grinch on Christmas Eve, is the child of a single mother. Cindy Lou is worried that her mother works too hard and has no time for herself, so she tries to meet Santa on Christmas Eve to ask if he might find a way to help her mom work less.

Instead she meets the Grinch.

Did you see that?

There’s no attempt in this film to find Mom a spouse or a love interest. No attempt reunite father and mother. In fact, there is never a mention of a father. We have no idea if Cindy Lou’s parents are divorced or if she is adopted or if her father died or if she’s the product of artificial insemination via an anonymous Who donor.

In an unexpected but much appreciated twist, we have a single mother who is not broken or incomplete or failing or even unhappy because she is single. Instead, we are given the portrait of a highly effective mother who is not in need of a man.

Yes, she is frazzled at times. A little overworked. Maybe even exhausted from time to time. But I hear parents complain every day about the struggles of parenthood.

A little too much sometimes.

Cindy Lou’s mother is no different.

I’ve often argued that a two adult household is ideal for raising children, simply because two heads are better than one. There have been many times in our years as parents that Elysha and I have stopped the other from making some silly or stupid parental mistake.

It’s always good to have a system of checks and balances whenever possible.

But I’ve also argued that this two adult household need not be a father and mother. Two fathers or two mothers are just as good. Also, a single mother with an aunt or uncle would be fine. Or a father and his best friend. Or a mother and her old college roommate. Or two grandparents raising their grandchild.

I think that in most cases, two responsible parents - in any combination - are probably better than one simply because of numbers, but I also think that single moms and single dads can kick some parenting ass, too.

As Cindy Lou Who’s mother clearly does.

More importantly, I don’t think that every single mother or single father is in need of a spouse. And I don’t think that every single mother or single father who is portrayed in film, television, or books needs to be presented as incomplete, broken, or in need of romantic love. We don’t need the children of single parents constantly portrayed as trying to find love for their loveless mothers or fathers.

This has all been done before, and honestly, it wasn’t especially good the first time.

The Parent Trap was predicable and sucky. Both times.

Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch offers audiences the opportunity to watch a kickass single mom do her job very well, absent of any pining over love lost or love never found.

I like that. I think it’s smart and new and fresh and probably a solidly feminist way of looking at the world.

I’m glad my son saw that kickass single mom kicking some parenting ass.

Well played writers Michael LeSieur and Tommy Swerdlow.

Speak Up Storytelling: Linda Storms

On episode #26 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling!

In our followup segment, we talk about upcoming Speak Up events, respond to listener comments, and offer a shout-out to our fans down under. 

Next, we talk about finding and collecting stories in your everyday life using "Homework for Life." We talk about how the moments that we find using Homework for Life might represent the mid-point in a story rather than the end. We also talk about how doing Homework for Life can allow you to examine your life more often and more fully. 

Next we listen to Linda Storms' story about running for her life at the ripe old age of six. 

After listening, we discuss:

  1. The power of embodying your former self when telling a story

  2. The power of the perfect ending to a story

  3. The spooling out of details slowly to preserve surprise and suspense

  4. The effects of raising the stakes throughout a story 

  5. The way in which the physical description of a person can say a great deal about that person

  6. Allowing the beginning and ending of a story to engage in a conversation with each other

  7. The difference between an episode from our lives and a real moment from our lives 

Next, we answer questions about our worst storytelling moments ever and the variety of motivations that bring storytellers to the stage. 

Finally, we each offer a recommendation.  

LINKS

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicks-subscribe

The Robbery: https://bit.ly/2DWczc2

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

Matt:

The life cycle of a human being through the eyes of a six year-old boy

Behold!

Charlie’s (age 6) interpretation of the life cycle of a human being from the womb to the grave.

The beginning stages and the ending stages are especially interesting.

Trump's Thanksgiving Day hissy-fit

The Washington Post’s Josh Dawsey summarized Trump’s Thanksgiving Day antics so well that I thought I’d share my favorite couple of paragraphs from the piece.

If Trump ever manages to construct a Presidential library when he is finally out of office (unlikely given his inability to construct his stupid wall) , I feel like the words below should be carved on the doors of that institution.

They tell you everything you need to know about the man.

Dawsey writes:

I’ll be speaking at the NYC Public Library Main Branch alongside storyteller Erin Barker… join us!

I’ll be appearing at the main branch of the New York City Library on Wednesday, December 26 alongside the great Erin Barker to talk about my book Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling.

About the event:

We are always telling stories. In communicating with family and friends, we are constantly narrating events and interpreting our personal feelings and actions. We make choices about what to emphasize and what to gloss over. We tell stories to entertain, express ourselves, and make sense of the world. Elementary school teacher, author, and award-winning Moth storyteller Matthew Dicks believes everyone has a story to tell, and has tips and techniques for narrators of all stripes on constructing, telling, and polishing a tale. He will be in conversation with writer and editor Erin Barker, two-time winner of The Moth's GrandSLAM and the artistic director of science storytelling organization The Story Collider. 

The event is free, but register here to guarantee yourself a seat.

Important notes on the phrase "scantily clad"

Five important notes about the phrase “scantily clad” that are worthy of your attention:

1. “Scantily clad” has been done. It’s been overdone. It’s absolutely, positively finished. Beaten like a dead horse. It’s moved past cliche and into the realm of tragically unoriginal. It’s a phrase that you should never, ever use again.

2. It’s weird that the word “scantily” is never used without the word “clad.”

Right?

3. It’s weird that the phrase is almost exclusively used to describe a woman in a certain state of undress when men are just as capable of being in similar states of undress. Some might actually consider me scantily clad as I write this very sentence, but no one would ever think to use those words to describe me because I’m not a woman.

That’s weird.

4. The phrase “scantily clad” is also a little creepy. Not a lot creepy. Just teensy-weensy bit creepy. It’s the kind of phrase that mouth-breathing teenage fantasy writers use to describe the inexplicably half-naked girl being held prisoner by the dragon, and that makes it a tiny bit creepy.

Enough to also avoid using it.

5. If you’re still not convinced, do a Google image search of the phrase “scantily clad.” The images associated with the phrase should make it clear that this is not a phrase that you should be using.

Baptism as a threat

I know this sign is a joke, but it’s a joke based upon a threat. An amusing and innocuous threat, of course, and nothing to be taken seriously, except for this:

Isn’t this also what the church does to babies?

Churches baptize babies into their religion without first checking to see if the baby believes in the tenants of the church. Rather than waiting until a person has reach the age of consent, they forcibly baptize the kid in hopes that it sticks. They attempt to predetermine a human being’s entire belief system for the rest of their life before that human being even has the ability to speak or walk.

Kind of crazy. Right?

It’s also the first step of indoctrination: a system by which religion attempts to base membership and belief on the family tree and genetics rather than via self-determination.

That’s also a little weird. Right?

You wouldn’t administer last rights to an unconscious, dying man if you didn’t know he was Catholic, but you force your non-communicative, illiterate child to become a member of God's covenant without any consent at all.  

The Amish, for example, have rumspringa, which normally begins somewhere between the ages of 14-21 and ends when a youth either chooses baptism within the Amish church or instead leaves the community. During rumspringa, the usual behavioral restrictions of the Amish culture are relaxed so that Amish youth can acquire some experience and knowledge of the non-Amish world.

In other words, they are given options, provided with information, and encouraged to make a choice. Only then are they baptized.

About 85-90% of Amish choose to be baptized, but some do not. They leave the community to live their true, authentic lives.

This makes sense to me.

Some Christian religions also believe that baptism confers faith as a gift from God, which I also think is kind of weird.

God’s first gift to a baby is the belief in himself as God the Almighty?

A little self serving. Right?

Again, it’s not a big deal. I was baptized as a baby, yet I sit here today as a reluctant atheist. A nonbeliever who wishes he believed.

I probably sent that gift of faith back when I was an infant for a rattle or a teething ring.

But here’s the thing:

When Elysha and I were engaged, I was already an ordained minister, so I kept threatening to marry us before the big day. I told Elysha that when she was asleep, I would whisper, “Do you, Elysha, take Matt as your awesomely married husband?” Then I would tap her shoulder and whisper, “Say yes, honey,” and in her sleepy state, she probably would.

Bingo. We would be married.

Except we wouldn’t, of course. I’m not sure if a minister can actually marry himself, but more importantly, marriage vows require consent because they represent a covenant between two people. An important and hopefully everlasting bond.

You can’t be forced or coerced into marrying another human. Not in Western culture, at least.

You can be coerced into not marrying another human being (horrible, self-serving jerk-face parents who insist that their children marry within the religion or the culture do this all the time), but even that non-marriage ultimately requires consent.

Something as important and profound and life-altering as religion should probably require similar consent. Right?

Again, all of this baptism stuff is not terribly important to me, and it’s hardly something to complain about. It’s not as if babies remember their baptisms, so the sway that a baptism holds in a child’s decision to leave the church or remain is exceptionally small.

But the sign is still weird for me. It highlights the forcible, non-consenting nature of baptism, which might not be what the church should highlight when attempting to keep heathens (and potential converts) like me from parking in their lot.

“We do this to our babies, and to those who dare to illegally park in our lot, too.”

Again, it’s not a sign to be taken seriously. but it’s perhaps not the message church wants to send about the nature of baptism, either.

A solution to arguing on Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving is upon us. A day of food, family, and friends. A day of giving thanks for all our good fortune.  

And with it, the prospect of strife at the dinner table.

Democrats vs. Republicans
Rex Sox fans vs. Yankees fans 
Carnivores vs. vegans
Beatles vs. Stones
Cat people vs. dog people
Mouth breathers vs. nose breathers

These feuds can sometimes ruin an otherwise festive holiday. I've witnessed a few of these turkey day battles in my time, and I’ve participated in a few as well. 

In fact, I’ve angered the fathers of girlfriends on Thanksgiving to the point shouting at least three times in my life.

I once encouraged folks around the table to pass on food they don’t like while the father - a self-proclaimed chef - watched in horror at the rebellion that I’d stirred.

Eventually he and I had words.

I once repeatedly left the room every time the father of a girlfriend made a racially insensitive remark. That father eventually realized what I was doing and had words with me.

I was also once, (unbeknownst to me) fed my pet rabbit on Thanksgiving, which eventually caused a bit of a row.

I’ve also argued economics during the height of the Great Recession with family members who didn’t know a credit default swap from a toxic asset, debated the future of the NFL with my father-in-law, and argued the stupidity of trickle-down economics with my uncle when I was about fourteen years-old.

I drew a political cartoon that year to make my point, and decades later, my aunt sent me that cartoon. She had saved it for me.

None of these incidents made for a good Thanksgiving. I’m a guy who loves to argue, but not on Thanksgiving. Today is the last day that anyone should be verbally sparring, and yet we do.

When you see an argument erupting this year or you feel like the family is on the verge of an argument, here is my suggestion:

Tell a story.

Rather than jumping into the fray with disagreement and debate, try to tell a story instead. Return civility and joy to the table by capturing the imagination of your friends and family with an entertaining return to the past. Rise above the ruckus with something like:

"Guess what happened to me last week!"

"I attended quite the birthday party a few months ago!"

"Do you remember the Christmas when the raccoon broke into the house and tore open a bunch of the Christmas presents?"

That last one really happened. I had a pet raccoon as a kid. He managed to sneak into the house on Christmas Eve.

I should tell that story someday. 

Maybe I'll tell it at the Thanksgiving Day table this year.

Anything is better than a fight.

Elton returns.

Back in September, Elysha and I saw Elton John perform in Hartford, CT as part of his “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” farewell tour.

He was fantastic. Both of us left the concert feeling so good.

Then I saw the latest John Lewis and Partners, a high end department store in the UK which is famous for its Christmas ads, and I felt almost as good all over again.

I don’t know how they did it, but it is brilliant and beautiful, and for someone like me who swims in a sea of nostalgia and existentialism, a little bittersweet, too.

My blog is celebrating its 10th anniversary today!

Today’s a big day! My blog - Grin and Bare It - just celebrated its tenth anniversary!

Back on November 18, 2008, I wrote my first post. It introduced myself to readers and explained that I had just sold my first novel and was working on my second.

I wrote:

“I thought that a blog like this would be a good opportunity to connect with readers and writers, in order to discuss the writing process, the publishing process, my experience in the world of literary agents and editors, and answer any questions that people may have about the book, my life as a reader and a writer, my latest projects, and anything else that my come to mind.”

It’s obviously become a lot more than that.

In truth, I’ve actually been blogging since December 10, 2005. In the fall of 2015, I took a class on blogging at Trinity College with Colin McEnroe. Part of that assignment was to create an actual blog of my own, which I did. That first blog only contained assignments for the class, but once I finished the course, I began blogging on my own, titling that first blog Perpetual Perpetuity.

That blog existed from December 10, 2005 through June 11 of 2007, when I was forced to remove it from the internet after an anonymous coward or cowards excerpted that blog in deliberately deceitful and misleading ways in order to compile a 46-page packet demanding that I be fired from my position as teacher based upon the things I wrote.

They sent that packet to the Superintendent of Schools, the Board of Education, the Town Council, and ultimately about 300 families in my school district. They compared me to the Virginia Tech killer, complained that I was benefiting from favoritism in our school, and implied that I was a sexual deviant.

A couple examples of their deceit:

On the day that my mother died, I wrote that my principal told me that I could take as much time as I needed to deal with my loss. “Do whatever you want to do,” he said. “No worries.”

Under the heading “Favoritism” these cretins wrote that my principal told me that I can “Do whatever you want to do,” failing to mention that it was in relation to the death of my mother.

In another post, I questioned the decision of parents who sent their children into the world wearing sweatpants with the word “Juicy” on the butt.

I wrote, “The eye in automatically drawn to text, so I find myself inadvertently staring at girl’s butts, which is stupid and terrible.”

In the packet, the cretins only quoted, “I find myself staring at girl’s butts.”

Example after example after example of this kind of deception.

The author or authors of the packet also called for the firing of Elysha and my principal, too.

Can you imagine?

More than a decade later, I’m still standing, doing my job, and loving my career, and those unnamed scumbags remain hidden under some rock where they belong.

Happily, I still have the content from that first blog. Every single post. Maybe someday I’ll return the blog to the internet just for spite.

The last post on the day I took that blog down was this:

___________________________________

I see Elysha half-naked everyday! All the way naked, too!

The photographer at Saturday’s wedding informed me that lingerie photos are the latest wedding craze. Brides are giving their future husbands photo albums of themselves wearing lingerie as a wedding gift.

I don’t get it.

Can’t the average husband expect to see his wife in lingerie from time to time, and if so, why the need for a photo album? If a bride is so willing to pose in lingerie for a stranger with a camera, isn’t it reasonable to expect that she will occasionally don a negligee or teddy in the presence of the love of her life?

Elysha gave me a new golf bag and a sand wedge on our wedding day, and this was better than a slew of half-naked photos.

I can see Elysha half-naked everyday. I don’t need a photo album to remind me of how good she looks.
___________________________________

As you can see, not much as changed since 2007.

After removing that first blog from the internet, I stopped blogging for exactly 14 days before launching a new blog entitled Conform Me Not. In the midst of a public firestorm over my first blog and fighting for my job and my future, I refused to be deterred. Conform Me Not was initially launched without any attempt at publicity, but as I began winning battles that summer and ensuring that my teaching position was secure, I began letting people know that I was writing again.

That blog still exists online at conformmenot.com.

Conform Me Not ran from June 25, 2007 through November 1, 2008, when I decided to switch from a purely blogging platform to a website that supported blogging. By then I had published my first novel and realized that I needed a place for readers to land that included more than just a blog.

It took my 17 days to launch the new blog on the new platform. This platform.

So began Grin and Bare it, which celebrates its ten year anniversary today.

Though this blog is ten years old, I’ve actually been blogging from December 10, 2005, through today, with two interruptions of 14 days and 17 days.

Otherwise, I have not missed a day.

If you do the math, that’s 4,727 days, minus the 31 days missed because of scumbag cowards and a platform switch.

4,696 days worth of blog posts, More than 4,696 actual posts, since there was many days, especially in the past, when I would more than once on a single day.

A diary of sorts, except instead of cataloging just the events of the day, my posts often reflect my thoughts of the day. Opinions, feelings, arguments, beliefs, questions, and rants.

Occasionally something sweet.

I am so grateful for the last 13 years of blog posts. Not only have I created a written record of my life, but blogging has proven to be an excellent training ground for the the magazine columns and newspaper pieces that I write now.

When you’re required to say something everyday, you get really good at generating ideas.

I’ve also met an enormous number of people through blogging. Some have gotten to know me online, and others have become friends in real life.

My blog is also a wonderful way to stay connected to friends, especially those that have moved away. Though we can’t talk everyday, many read everyday and send me emails or messages through social media that keep us connected.

Yes, it also created an enormous problem for me back in 2007, but even that will likely work out well. It will probably become a subject of a memoir, including previously undisclosed information on the horrible person or persons responsible for the attack on me and many things that I have never spoken about before.

It’s quite the story.

In addition to all of that, some amazing things have happened as a result of putting so much of my life into writing for anyone to read.

Here are just a few:

___________________________________

In the fall of 2016, I wrote a post advising Hillary Clinton to take certain strategic steps in her next two debates with Donald Trump. That post made it into the hands of a senior staffer on the Clinton campaign and was passed around. I don't know if Clinton herself read it, but I like to pretend that she did. 

________________________________________

In June of 2010, a wrote a post about the Blackstone Valley sniper. When I was a child, a pair of men spent almost two years firing bullets into windows in my hometown and the adjacent towns, forcing us to turn out our lights at night and crawl under the picture window as we passed through the living room. We lived in fear for a long time. There was a total of eleven shootings from 1986-1987 (in addition to acts of arson and burglaries), and though no one was killed, four people were wounded in the attacks. 

The two men guilty of the shootings were sentenced to prison in 1989 and were released on probation in 2008. 

Five years after writing that post, the girlfriend of one of the shooters saw the post and wrote to me, complaining about my disparaging remarks about her boyfriend, who was turning his life around. 

It was an interesting exchange of ideas.  

________________________________________

In April of 2011, I wrote about my desire to become a professional best man. I declared myself ready and able if anyone needed my services.

Since I wrote that post, four grooms and one bride have attempted to hire me (scheduling prevented those bookings from happening), and a fifth groom actually hired me for his wedding but cancelled later on. 

I've also been contacted by three different reality television producers about the possibility of doing a show in which I would be a professional best man at a series of weddings. None of these shows came to fruition.

In 2015, comedian Kevin hart wrote to me upon the release of his film The Wedding Ringer, in which he plays a professional best man. He acknowledged that it was my idea first. 

___________________________________

In 2012, I wrote about my desire to find my first library book. I recalled a few details about the book - the color of the cover and a few details about the plot - but nothing terribly specific. 

Two years later a reader correctly identified the book. A couple months later another reader sent it to me. It now sits on my bookshelf. 

___________________________________

Last year I wrote about Mrs. Carroll, the woman who taught me how to tie my shoes in kindergarten.

One day later, I was informed by a reader that she is 94 years old and still going strong.

By the end of that day, I had been given her home address by another reader. I sent her a letter telling her how much she meant to me and how I think about her every time I tie my shoes, and on the last day of my school year, I received a letter from her, detailing specific memories about me from my year in kindergarten.

___________________________________

In March of 2016, I write about telling a story at The Moth about my former elementary school principal, Fred Hartnett, for whom a new middle school in my hometown is now named. A few days after writing about the story, Mr. Hartnett, retired for more than 20 years, contacted me, and we’ve since exchanged several emails.

___________________________________

These are just a few of the many remarkable things that have happened because I write and publish every single day.

I guess it makes sense. When thousands of people read your writing each day, connections are going to be made. You’re going to occasionally touch hearts and minds.

Sometimes annoy a person, too.

But even that can be fun.

Thanks so much for reading every day. I’m honored and humbled by the thousands of people who read my posts here and on the social media outlets where my blog posts go every day.

But even if I had just 10 readers, I’d still be writing every day. The rewards, audience or no audience, have made it more than worth my time.

Speak Up Storytelling [rebroadcast]: Renae Edge

Happy Thanksgiving to all of our listeners in the United States. 

Elysha and I are taking the holiday off and rebroadcasting episode #14 of Speak Up Storytelling, which features the joyous story of Renae Edge. 

We thought it would be perfect for a Thanksgiving Day listen. Maybe share it with your family. Find us a few new listeners.  

We'll be back next week with a brand new episode. 

______________________________________________

On episode #14 of Speak Up Storytelling, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk about finding excellent stories in your everyday life using Matthew's strategy "Homework for Life," including moments that storytellers see but non-storytellers might not. 

Then we listen to Renae Edge's story about finding her voice for the first time, followed by commentary and critique, including:

  1. The effective use of backstory or flashbacks in a story

  2. The components of an especially effective beginning to a story

  3. Singing in stories

  4. Strong feelings about dream sequences

  5. Specificity of names

Elysha and Matt then answer listener questions about building a story with flashbacks and telling effective best man speeches. 

Lastly, Matt and Elysha each offer a recommendation. 

If you haven't rated or reviewed Speak Up Storytelling on Apple Podcasts, PLEASE do! Reviews and ratings help others find our show.

Just another Saturday night

It’s Saturday night in our house. An evening to relax. Enjoy ourselves. Have some fun.

What did our 9 year-old daughter, Clara, choose to do with her free time?

She read books on ancient Greece and ancient Rome, and then for funsies decided to create a Venn diagram comparing and contrasting the two cultures.

She’s cool that way. A real party animal.

"I had nothing else to do"

A few days before the midterm elections, Trump told reporters that he listened to one of President Obama's campaign speeches for Florida Democrats.

“I was in the plane,” he said. “I had nothing else to do. He had a very small crowd. They don’t tell you that."

Did you catch that? The leader of the free world had “nothing better to do.”

It’s appalling.

Trump had nothing to read? Nothing to plan? Not a single thing to learn? No member of Congress or governor or mayor or foreign leader to call? No supporter to thank? No meeting with a Cabinet member? No update on the California wildfires or North Korean weapons testing or the Syrian civil war or Brexit negotiations?

Not a single briefing from anyone in his administration?

Trump had “nothing better to do” so he watched Obama’s speech.

Had Trump said that he watched Obama’s speech to analyze his opponent’s strategy for winning the upcoming election, that would’ve been perfectly acceptable. A normal thing for a politician to do on the eve of the midterms.

But no. Trump didn’t watch the speech in order to scrutinize or strategize. He watched Obama’s speech because he had “nothing better to do.”

That sentence speaks volumes.

In at least the past 25 years, there has never been a single moment of my life when I had “nothing better to do.”

No exaggeration.

Honestly, the last time I can remember having “nothing better to do” was when I was 22 years-old and homeless, waiting out the long nights in the cold and the dark in the backseat of my Toyota Tercel.

I have always had something better to do. I am constantly waiting to get to my next thing. My plate is always overflowing. There is never a single second of my day when something hasn’t needed to be repaired, revised, refined, adjusted, examined, altered, advanced, or completed.

And I’m just me. Just an ordinary person with family and friends and work.

I’m not the President of the United States.

When Trump was campaigning for President, he constantly criticized President Obama’s work ethic. Complained about the President’s love of golf. Promised that he wouldn’t have any time for such things. Assured his voters that he’d be working all the time.

"I love golf,” Trump said. “But if I were in the White House, I don't think I'd ever see Turnberry again. I don't ever think I'd see anything — I just wanna stay in the White House and work my ass off, make great deals, right? Who's gonna leave? I won’t have time to go and play golf. Being President is too important. "

Since becoming President, Trump has spent, on average, one out of every 4.5 days at one of his golf clubs. More than twice as many rounds of golf than Obama played over the same period.

162 days in total so far (out of 666 days as President), often refusing to allow cameras to film him as he plays. Often refusing to answer questions about playing. Often denying playing even after reporters spotted him on the greens.

Trump has spent 24.3% of his time in office on a golf course, costing taxpayers more than $80,000,000 in security and travel.

In addition, Trump does not arrive to the office until 11:30 AM on most days and leaves before 5:00 PM, spending his mornings in the residence, watching cable news and calling members of the media.

He has yet to visit any of our troops overseas.

Skipped a World War I commemoration because of the rain.

Didn’t visit Arlington National Cemetery on Veteran’s Day.

Ignored Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and played golf instead.

This is a President who promised to work relentlessly for his voters yet finds himself with “nothing better to do.”

Appalling.

My son, the conceptual percussionist

Our son, Charlie, age six, designed a drum kit out of several of his toys.

Then he conceptualized a song called "Exploring Your Life" that... well, he can explain better than I ever could.

Whenever my kids do something like this, I cannot help but think that when I was their age, I was a small, useless parasite incapable of little more than eating, watching television, and playing in the dirt.

Trying to tell me something?

Working on one of my next books this morning when I looked up and saw this.

Apparently he doesn’t approve of this morning’s progress.

What is the meaning of life?

During the Q&A portions of my author talks, I always invite audience members to ask me challenging questions. No subject is out of bounds. The stranger the better.

I even give away prizes to the most challenging questions. 

At a recent author talk, perhaps in an attempt to receive a prize, someone asked me "What is the meaning of life?"

It's an age-old question that has been answered a million different ways (and probably be avoided more often than it is answered). 

For example:

“Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.” ―The Dalai Lama

A good answer, but apparently not convincing enough, because the Dalai Lama has also said, “The very purpose of life is to be happy.”

You can flip-flop on your favorite diner, but the meaning of life should probably be more certain.

Other answers that I liked:

“The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit.” ―Nelson Henderson

"Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence." ― Aristotle

The meaning of life is not to be discovered only after death in some hidden, mysterious realm; on the contrary, it can be found by eating the succulent fruit of the Tree of Life and by living in the here and now as fully and creatively as we can. ― Paul Kurtz

“42” ― Douglass Adams

My least favorite answers to this questions come from actor Alan Alda:

“The meaning of life is life.”

Thanks, Alan. That really says a lot.

My answer on the night I was asked was this:

“The meaning of life is to stay alive for as long as possible.”

As soon as I said it, I knew that I liked it. Simple, straight forward, and in my experience, accurate.

If you’ve ever faced an honest-to-goodness life-or-death situation, you’ll know that taking just one more breathe can quickly become more important than any else in this world.

When standing on the brink of oblivion, another moment of existence feels like a lifetime.