Grapes and novels: New ways of prying money away from the wealthy

Business idea:

The manager of a chain of hotels in Japan recently spent 1.2 million yen, or roughly $11,000, for 24 grapes.

It sounds crazy, but expensive, specialty-grown fruit of unique appearance or intense taste is a trend in Japan, used as gifts, or in this case for promotional purposes, Guest at the hotels will be able to eat one of the grapes for about $460.

The specific variety — Ruby Red — first came to market in 2008, and about 26,000 will be sold this year. The expensive, but perfectly unblemished and flavorful fruit is one way that small farms are able to compete against the enormous agricultural companies.

Okay, that’s their business idea, which I like a lot. Rich people like things that are exclusive, innovative, interesting, and entertaining – as well as things that are rare, unusual, valuable, and otherwise desirable. There are a lot of wealthy folks looking to spend money on unique experiences who have already spent ridiculous amounts of money on items designed to set them apart from the masses:

Bottle service. Hand-crafted furniture. Custom-build automobiles. Ostrich coats. Six-figure handbags. Wine cellars.

Why not take advantage of this market by pricing a single grape at a $500?

Now for my business idea:

Single edition short stories or novels. Stories written for a single buyer that no one else will ever see.

A novel written for your eyes only.

Admittedly, a part of me would be devastated by the thought that I might write an entire novel that only one human being could ever read, but that devastation could be significantly mitigated for the right price. If I could send my two kids to college for the price of a book or upgrade to a larger, mortgage-free home for a single story, I think I could find a way to let one story disappear onto the bookshelf of a single reader.

Single edition novels:

Brilliant idea? Artistically-bankrupt idea?

I think it depends on the price.

Offense kleptomaniacs

Someone recently introduced me to a term that I like a lot:

Offense kleptomaniacs

These are people who - no matter what was intended - will take offense, often unjustifiably.

You say one thing. They hear another.

You do one thing. They see another.

In my life, offense kleptomaniac often lift their ugly heads when I find a corner to cut, an advantage to seize, an opportunity to snag, or a new road to take. They become angry and outraged because I saw something before they did or I had the courage or daring or insight to try something that initially seemed dangerous or unexpected or unwise or against the rules.

I take an unanticipated step forward. They see it as me shoving them back.

Many years ago, when a large-scale initiative was first introduced at our school, I quickly put together my own team of teachers - all close friends who shared a similar skill set and who I enjoyed working alongside- before administration could assign teams. Then, as teams were being considered for the initiative, I presented our already-assembled team to administration and asked that it be allowed to stand.

It was.

Offense kleptomaniacs - people who could’ve done the same thing and still could’ve done the same thing after discovering what we had done - took this maneuver as a slight. An injustice. An outrage.

“How dare they assemble their own team?”
”No one said we could pick our teammates!”
”Why do they get to choose their teammates but we don’t?”
”Who do they think they are?”

Rather than seeing this for what it was - a colleague spotting a previously unseen opportunity and seizing it - they took offense to it. They saw it as someone taking advantage at their expense. They spun their wheels in anger and disgust. Grumbled and growled and cried foul instead of seeing it as a possible path for them to take, too.

Yes. I know these people. You probably do, too.

Also, I despise these people. I look forward to using this new phrase when dealing with them.

Many traditions are kind of stupid. Some are epically stupid.

Residents in the town of Nejapa in El Salvador have been commemorating a volcanic eruption in 1658 which destroyed the town by hurling fireballs at each other.

Yes, that’s right. Residents take to the streets with gasoline-soaked rags and hurl them at one another.

Check it out.

If you like this video, go to YouTube. There are many more. Each is equally terrifying.

The annual event has been a tradition since 1922, and the fireballs are said to represent the local Christian saint, Jeronimo, fighting the devil inside the volcano with his own balls of fire.

Is it culturally insensitive for me to say that this is a very stupid tradition?

I understand that lots of traditions are kind of stupid in that they are illogical, inane, or represent some truth from hundreds or thousands of years ago that is no longer the case. When viewed objectively, many traditions - both religious and cultural - make little sense.

I get that.

But when you’re throwing fire at another human being and allowing fire to be hurled at you, I think we’ve move beyond the realm of quaint or outdated or nonsensical and into the realm of epically, historically, supremely stupid.

If that makes me culturally insensitive, so be it.

Then again, I also stand firmly against the traditions of female genital mutilation, cannibalism, bullfighting, and all traditionally patriarchal institutions and customs of any kind (I’m looking at you, Catholic Church amongst many others).

Also two stupid traditions that I have written about before:

Spain’s baby jumping and Vrontados’ Rouketopolemos, the tradition in which two rival church congregations in the town perform a "rocket war" by firing tens of thousands of home-made rockets across town, with the objective of hitting the bell tower of the rival church

All of those traditions are epically stupid, too. Far stupider and more dangerous and destructive than most.

I don’t think it’s culturally insensitive to identify certain traditions and customs as stupider than others, and I’d like to think that fireball throwing makes that list.

Why are they wearing makeup?

I was watching the first NFL game of the season on Thursday night - Green Bay versus Chicago - happy to see that football was back at last.

As the network returned from commercial at the beginning of the second half, the cameras focused first on the two booth announcers - legendary commentator Al Michaels and former NFL receiver Chris Collinsworth - and then onto their sideline reporter Michelle Tafoya.

As I watched, something occurred to me:

Michaels and Collinsworth were wearing makeup. I could see it as clear as day.

And Tafoya was wearing a lot of makeup. A ton of makeup. Her face looked like it had been painted onto her head.

For years I’ve been told that makeup is required when you appear on television. Some combination of the lights and camera require it, but then it occurred to me:

None of the players of the field - many of whom are the object of constant, intense close-ups, wear makeup. None of the coaches - many of whom are well into their 60’s and 70’s - wear makeup, and they are constantly featured in closeup. Even the referees don’t wear makeup.

They all look fine. Some of them look great. A few of them have become specifically known for their good looks. I’ve been in the room when women have swooned over Tom Brady during a telecast, despite the fact that he’s appearing on television without makeup.

What gives?

The same holds true for every sport, including women’s sports. The players in the NBA and WNBA don’t wear makeup when they play, and they all look great,. Their coaches and trainers don’t wear makeup, and they, too, look perfectly fine. The same holds true for men’s and women’s soccer and tennis.

No makeup whatsoever, and yet they all look great on television.

Why do the commentators in the booths and the sideline reporters need to paint enormous amounts of makeup on their faces in order to appear on television while the athletes, coaches, and referees who they are covering don’t?

I don’t get it.

Parking lot artist

I pulled into the parking lot at my daughter’s middle school last night for their annual Open House. I circled the lot, looking for a parking spot and finding none.

I circled again. Still nothing.

I was so happy.

Once of my favorite things in the world to do is create a parking spot where one did not exist before.

I circled a third time, evaluating all of my choices, viewing the parking lot now as a canvas for my creativity,. I could extend a row of spot, affixing my car to the end. I could park on the grass. I could sidle my car along the edge of the driveway, reducing its width by half.

Then I saw it. A slight bulge on the far end of the lot, probably present to allow the passage of cars in both directions.

Not anymore. I pulled into the bulge, nuzzled my car up against the curb, and hopped out. As I did, I noticed that a car was pulling in behind me.

“Is this a spot?” the driver asked.

“It is now,” I said. “I invented it.”

He smiled.

It would be a fine thing if my love for inventing parking spots came from my desire to solve problems creatively (and there is probably a little truth in that statement), but mostly I think I love the ability to eschew authority, ignore expectations, and reinforce the idea that there is very little law and order in a parking lot. Sure, you can paint your yellow lines and plan your traffic patterns, but if you’ve run out of spaces and I need to park, there is little anyone can do to stop me from being creative.

Flaunting authority. That is why I love inventing parking spots.

When I exited the building a couple hours later, I was pleased to see that four cars had followed my example and parked in a line behind me, filling the bulge.

This is common.

When I park on the grass, others follow suit.

When I stick myself on the end of an aisle, others do the same.

When this happens, I always wonder:

Were these people inspired by my creative idea or somehow given permission to violate the norms of the parking lot after I did so?

Little did I know that I was among giants that night

I was cleaning out some files and I stumbled upon this:

The program from my first Moth GrandSLAM champion on October 17, 2011 at the Highline Ballroom in NYC.

At the time, I was a rookie. Clueless and naive. Stumbling my way into the venue, not knowing what to expect.

I did okay, that night, finishing in third place. The winner was Erin Barker, the only woman in the competition that night. As we gathered on the stage at the end of the show, she famously turned to her male competitors and said, “Suck it, boys.”

I remember thinking that I really like this woman. She told a brilliant story, and she seemed to possess a competitive spirit that I admired.

Little did I know that eight years later, I would be proud to call Erin my friend.

As I look at the names on the program, I’m astounded. Little did I know that night that I was in the presence of some of the best storytellers who I’ve ever know. Titans of the storytelling community.

At the time, I thought that they were all like me: First-time winners wondering what to expect and just hoping to survive.

But not true.

Erin Barker went on to win another Moth GrandSLAM - the first woman in history to do so. She co-founded The Story Collider, an organization dedicated to bringing the stories of the scientific world to the masses. She produces shows all over the world and also produces a weekly podcast. She makes her career today as a storyteller.

David Crabbis a Los Angeles-based author, performer and storyteller. His 2013 solo show Bad Kid was named a New York Times Critics' Pick. His memoir, Bad Kid, was released in 2015 by Harper Perennial. He is currently is a host of The Moth and RISK!

Brad Lawrence is a storyteller, solo show performer and teacher who has performed to sold-out crowds around the United States and in the UK. He was the first storyteller to win back-to-back Moth GrandSLAMs, which led him to becoming a host of the Moth and a regular on Moth Mainstages around the United States.

Jeff Simmermon is a storyteller and standup has won multiple Moth StorySLAMS and a GrandSLAM. His stories have appeared on This American Life, The Moth's podcast, and in written form on The Paris Review Daily.

At the time, Jefferson was the curator and host of the popular Bare: Stories of Sex, Desire, and Romance, and he was producing shows and performing regularly in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C.

Joshua Blau has won multiple Moth StorySLAMs has been featured on The Moth Radio Hour. If he didn’t have five children - including a set of triplets - I suspect I’d see much more of him. He’s brilliant. Hilarious and vulnerable and so sweet.

Steve Zimmer is simply the best storyteller that I have ever seen. He is the Platonic ideal to which I aspire.

That leaves two people - Michael Cannillo and Michael Sorviero - as the only two storytellers who I don’t know.

And who knows? Maybe they’re also killing it somewhere.

Looking back at this program, it’s so odd. I had no idea I was in the midst of storytelling royalty that night.

The absolute masters of the game.

It makes me wish I could go back to that night and better understand what was happening around me.

Better understand who was performing and competing alongside me.

Better appreciate how fortunate I was that night to share a stage with such talented, brilliant performers.

Four reasons why I seem to get into so many arguments

I got into another fight at a local McDonald’s.

A man was attempting to ascertain the balance on his gift card. The McDonald’s employee - someone I see almost everyday while getting my Egg McMuffin - explained that she didn’t know how to determine the remaining balance on his gift card unless he purchased something. Then she apologized. “There really should be a way to do this,” she admitted.

Then the man began shouting, telling the woman again and again that she was unprofessional. Spouting off in a way that made it clear that he was not a highly functioning human being.

I was standing beside the man. I had already placed my order and was waiting patiently. Four men were standing behind us, also waiting for their order. An older woman with a cane was standing behind him, waiting to place her order. Everyone stared as this man continued shouting “Unprofessional!” over and over again.

I did not engage. This is my new policy. In the past, I would’ve eagerly leapt into the fray, but I’ve established a new, more mature policy:

Remain uninvolved unless the offending party involves me.

So I stood, waiting and hoping that he might someone engage me, too. Hoping for a confrontation.

Then it happened. The man turned to me and said, “This place is so unprofessional. Right?”

“No,” I said, quickly matching his volume. “Don’t bring me into this. I’m not on your side. I like these people. There’s only one person in this place who is acting unprofessional, and it’s you.”

The man was not pleased. He tried to argue his point, oddly repeating the word “unprofessional” over and over again. I was having none of it, and I was prepared with plenty of comebacks.

“Don’t try to co-opt my agreement just because you’re feeling alone. You’re alone because you’re wrong, buddy. I’m on the side of the good.”

“Stop talking to me. I’ve heard dandelions make more sense than you.”

“People who stand behind the counter, insulting employees like these, are cowards.”

At this, the man took an aggressive step toward me, apparently hoping to intimidate me. In response, I took an even larger, more aggressive step forward, trying to convey in both mind and body the idea that I would fight and win if necessary.

It worked. It always does. The man stepped back. He swore at me. He wished me dead. then he declared that “this town is a ghetto!” and left.

A couple minutes later, the police arrived. I didn’t know it, but the employees has called them when the shouting broke out. They explained to the officers that I was not the offending party. Then they refunded my money for my breakfast. “Oh the house,” she said.

Happy day. Admittedly not the wisest decision on my part, but happy day.

I told this story at my book club later that night. One of my friends asked, “How does this stuff always happen to you?”

It was a good question. I’ve wondered this myself. But then the answer became apparent to me as we discussed:

1. I look for these confrontations. I stood beside the man, hoping he would involve me. I stared in his general direction. In the words of one book club attendee, “I would’ve been standing as far away from that man as possible, avoiding it all.” And it’s true. There were four other men also waiting for their food, and not one of them made any attempt to close the distance between them and the man. I stood as close as possible and hoped for engagement. Invited it.

2. I’m good at this kind of encounter. I was a two-time state debate champion in college. As a teacher, DJ, writer, and performer, I’ve spent a considerable amount of my life manipulating language, speaking publicly, and using words to achieve desired results. I use words like other people use hammers and spreadsheets and stethoscopes. Also, I’m a serial nonconformist who lived for more than a decade with a verbally abusive stepfather, and my last name is Dicks. I’ve received an enormous amount of verbal abuse over the years, and so I’ve spent a lifetime sharpening my rhetorical sword. I know how to parry and slash and stab. I have a talent for knowing the worst thing to say at the right moment to produce the most pain in another human being.

3. I have an inane sense of justice for low wage workers. Having managed McDonald’s restaurants for almost a decade, I am all too familiar with the abuse that low-wage workers suffer on a daily basis. As a manager, I always stood between my employee and the offender, offering sarcastic apologies to horrible people and occasionally going to war with them, too. I cannot stand to watch a customer insult an employee who is trying her best and has done nothing wrong.

4. I’m in places where stuff like this happens. I pointed out to my book club friends that none of them enter a McDonald’s restaurant with any regularity. “Chipotle is probably your lowest version of fast food,” I argued, and my friend agreed. Another said, “You don’t just go through the drive thru?” No, I don’t. Service is almost always faster inside, and I get to see my people. I talk to Juan, the maintenance man, about football. I say hello to Janice as prepares my order. I chat with the old guy who is drinking coffee and reading the paper. If you’re not entering the realm of the low wage worker on a daily basis, you probably don’t see this kind of abuse.

So that’s it. That’s why I seem to get into more verbal altercations than most.

I look for them. I like them. I’m good at them. I feel the need to engage on behalf of others, And I occupy spaces where these types of encounters are more likely to occur.

See? It’s not me. It’s just circumstance.

All that said, I know it’s not the smartest thing to do. You never know how someone is going to react. It’s not that the world is a more dangerous place today, because it’s not. Crime has been on the decline for three decades. By all accounts, we’re living in the safest time in all of human history.

I know our pervasive media makes people think otherwise, but it’s true.

Still, you never know how someone will react. I should just keep my mouth shut, and more often than not, I do.

I’m getting better. More restrained and sensible. I’m evolving.

Slowly.

Speak Up Storytelling #63: Esam Boray

On episode #63 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Elysha Dicks and I talk storytelling!

In our follow-up segment, we read listeners' emails about diversity in storytelling, the intersection between vulnerability and social media, and another way of approaching Homework for Life.

We also announce our latest partnership with a fantastic new venue.  

STORYTELLING SHOWS 2019-2020

September 7: “Tests” at Real Art Ways
November 2: Great Hartford Story Slam, Hartford Flavor Company
November 9: Sara Kaplan: Champion of the World at Emmanuel Synagogue, West Hartford, CT
November 23: Twenty-one Truths About Love book release, CT Historical Society, Hartford, CT
December 14: “Crafty” at CT Historical Society, Hartford, CT
January 11: Speak Up at the Wadsworth Atheneum
April 4: Speak Up at the Unitarian Universalist Society, Manchester, CT

STORYTELLING WORKSHOPS 2019

October 4-6: Storytelling workshop, Art of Living Retreat, Boone, NC
October 25-27: Storytelling workshop (beginners), Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health
November 9: Storytelling workshop (Beginner), CT Historical Society
November 16: Storytelling workshop (Advanced), CT Historical Society
December 6-8: Storytelling workshop (advanced), Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health
January 25: Storytelling workshop (Beginner), CT Historical Society
February 22: Storytelling workshop (Advanced), CT Historical Society

In our Homework for Life segment, I talk about a brief but important moment that took place beside a baggage carousel in an airport and how storyworthy moments can sometimes happen in the blink of an eye. 

Next we listen to a story by Esam Boray. 

Amongst the many things we discuss include:

1. The power of contrast in storytelling

2. Turning a story about something huge and incomprehensible into something much smaller and universalCombining anecdotes into a more cohesive narrative

3. The importance of knowing key characters in a story well before putting them into action

4. Slowing down key moments in stories to allow the action to unfold for your listeners

We then answer a listener questions about noticing and documenting small changes over time, avoiding over-rehearsing a story, and managing my Homework for Life spreadsheet. 

Finally, we each offer a recommendation.  

LINKS

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love 

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 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

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

Subscribe to the Speak Up newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-speak-up

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-grin-and-bare-it

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

• When characters in musicals transition from speaking to singing - http://bit.ly/2kfjzbZ

Matt:

• The Rewatchables - https://www.theringer.com/the-rewatchables

Electrical conundrum

I’m not a handy guy. I can’t fix a damn thing. Nor can I build, construct, or replace. I don’t do plumbing or electrical work. I can’t repair a roof or landscape a lawn or paint a porch.

Loose hinges on cabinets stymie me.

So perhaps the answer to this question is obvious to someone who is not me.

Still, I must ask:

In the single-use restroom at the miniature golf course on Route 4 in Farmington, Connecticut is a set of four electrical outlets positioned over the door. I’ve been in the restroom many times, but I have yet to see anything plugged into these outlets, nor can I imagine what might ever be plugged into these outlets.

Could someone smarter than me please explain?

Resolution Update: August 2019

Each month I review the progress of my yearly goals and report on that progress as a means of holding myself accountable.

Here are the results for August.

__________________________________

PERSONAL HEALTH

1. Don’t die.

Dodged several bees. Still alive.

2. Lose 20 pounds.

I lost 0 pounds in August because I suck.

I’ve lost 6 pounds in total.

3. Eat at least three servings of fruits and/or vegetables per day, six days a week.

Done! Admittedly it was mostly fruit (lots of apples) and French fries, but I did it!

By the way, is rice a vegetable?

4. Do at least 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and 3 one-minute planks for five days a week.

Done. Planks are getting surprisingly easy except for the elbow and shoulder pain (see below).

5. Do burpees three days a week.

I did 3-4 burpees per day, 3 times each week in August with the exception of the week spent in Seattle. My shoulder really, really hurts, and now my elbow hurts, too. I blame the stupid burpees.

I’m getting an X-ray.

WRITING CAREER

6. Complete my seventh novel before the end of 2019.

Writing has finally commenced.I won’t finish before the end of the year, but I’ll pretend that I might.

7. Write/complete at least five new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist. 

I’m currently working on three different children’s books. I like one very much.

8. Write a memoir.

Work continues.

9. Write a new screenplay.

No progress, but I’m enthusiastic! I have a good idea!

10. Write a musical.

No progress.

11. Submit at least five Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.

I submitted a piece to the NY Times Modern Love column in April. I received word yesterday that it was not accepted.

One down. Four to go.

12. Submit one or more short stories to at least three publishing outlets.

No progress.

13. Select three behaviors that I am opposed to and adopt them for one week, then write about my experiences on the blog.

I spent July strategically smiling in hopes that the biofeedback that a smile sends to the brain would alter my mood positively. I’ll be writing about the results this month.

I’m in need of two more behaviors to adopt.

Suggestions?

14. Increase my storytelling newsletter subscriber base to 3,000.

76 new subscribers in August for a total of 845 new subscribers in 2019. My list now stands at 2,955 subscribers.

If you’d like to sign up for my newsletter, you can do so here:

15. Write at least six letters to my father.

One letter written in August. Two written so far this year.

16. Write 100 letters in 2019.

Five letters written in August. 24 overall. Still have a lot of writing to do before the end of the year.

17. Convert Greetings Little One into a book.

A kind, generous, and amazing human being has begun work on this project.

I am thrilled.

STORYTELLING

18. Produce a total of 10 Speak Up storytelling events.

DONE! Two shows produced in August:

The Great Hartford Story Slam (produced in conjunction with two other local producers) and my solo show in Seattle.

A total of 10 shows produced so far in 2019.

19. Begin selling Speak Up merchandise at our events and/or online.

Done! We began selling tee shirts and totes at our live podcast recording, and we’ll be selling again at our upcoming shows.

Next step is to make it available online. Suggestions?

20. Pitch myself to at least 5 upcoming TEDx events with the hopes of being accepted by one.

Done! I’ve pitched myself to five TEDx conferences and was nominated for a sixth.

All have now passed on my pitches. No one wants me.

I’ll just keep pitching.

21. Attend at least 15 Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

DONE! I attended four Moth StorySLAMs in August:

Two in Boston, one in NYC, and one in Seattle. My name was drawn from the hat at both Boston slams and the Seattle slam.

NYC has not been as kind to me this year in terms of my name emerging from the hat.

This brings my total to 17 events so far.

22. Win at least three Moth StorySLAMs.

DONE! I won my FIFTH and SIXTH Moth StorySLAMs in 2019. One in Boston and one in Seattle.

My 42nd and 43rd victories overall.

23. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

I finished in second place by a tenth of a point in a Moth GrandSLAM in Boston in January.

I finished in fourth place in a Moth GrandSLAM in Boston in March, but I think I might’ve told my best story ever.

I competed but did not win the NYC Moth GrandSLAM in June. Silent scoring (I’m not a fan) prevents me from knowing how I placed (though I may be able to call and ask).

I may be competing in one more Moth GrandSLAM in NYC this year depending on the timing of the GrandSLAM and the number of storytellers in the queue ahead of me.

24. Produce at least 40 episodes of our new podcast Speak Up Storytelling. 

Just two new shows released in August. An erased episode and a botched recording in Seattle (neither one our fault) caused us to miss two weeks of episodes.

A total of 30 episodes so far in 2019

Listen to our latest here or subscribe wherever you get your podcasts.

25. Perform stand up at least four times in 2019. 

I performed at an open mic in July at The Elbow Room in West Hartford.

Three to go.

26. Develop and teach a Storytelling Master Class, in which participants have an opportunity to tell at least two stories over the course of the day  or tell a story and then retell it based on feedback.

Done in June! It went surprisingly well, and I’ve been receiving requests to do another.

27. Pitch at least three stories to This American Life.

No progress.

28. Pitch myself to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast at least three times.

I wrote to Marc early in January, asking for him to consider me as a guest.

I wrote again in August.

No response yet.

I’ve also officially requested that my publicist assist me in this endeavor.

If you know Marc Maron, or know someone who knows Marc or know someone who knows Marc’s producer or booker, please let me know. I know that Marc and I would have an amazing conversation, and it’s currently my biggest dream to get on his show.

NEW PROJECTS

29. Host a fundraiser for RIP Medical Debt, which would allow us to relieve the medical debt of struggling Americans for pennies on the dollar.

No progress.

30. Complete my Eagle Scout project.

No progress.

31. Print, hang, and/or display at least 25 prints, photos, or portraits in our home.

We received our estimate from the painters. Depending on other expenses, we will likely be painting several rooms this fall, at which point things can be hung on the walls.

32. Renovate our first floor bathroom.

Work will commence THIS MONTH. And not a moment too soon. The tile floor is falling apart.

33. Organize our second floor bathroom.

Progress! I’m doing a little bit every day.

MISCELLANEOUS

34. Cook at least 12 good meals (averaging one per month) in 2019.

I made one meal in August.

Five down. Seven to go.

35. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

I have a tentative date set. Attempting to confirm attendees now!

36. Ride my bike with my kids at least 25 times in 2019.

I did not ride my bike with the kids in August. A week in Seattle and many, many days at Winding Trails has really curtailed the bike riding recently. Hopefully I can get the kids back on the bike now that autumn is on the doorstep.

37. I will not comment, positively or negatively, about physical appearance of any person save my wife and children, in 2019 in an effort to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall. 

I did not comment on physical appearance in August. I also explained my policy to my new batch of students, and once again, they loved the policy and supported it fully.

Adults often this this policy is crazy. Children always love it.

38. Surprise Elysha at least six times in 2019.

DONE! While meandering through Pike’s Place Market in Seattle, Elysha spotted a pair of earrings that she loved but thought were too expensive. When she wasn’t looking, I took a photo of the earrings and grabbed a business card from the designer. Then I emailed the designer and asked that the earrings in the attached photo be shipped to me. I had hoped to have the earrings on her desk for the first day of school, but they arrived two days late, so I gave them to her before dinner two nights.

She was quite surprised to see them again.

Six surprises accomplished so far. At least two more in the works.

39. Replace the 12 ancient, energy-inefficient windows in our home with new windows that will keep the cold out and actually open in the warmer months.

I’ve got a window guy now in the event we manage to cobble together the fund for this much needed project.

40. Clean the basement. 

The dumpster is STILL in my driveway. It’s now a Labor Day weekend job.

41. Set a new personal best in golf.

I started taking lessons this summer, and I’ve committed myself to constant practice. The results are beginning to show.

Last weekend, I double-bogied every hole. This did not result in an excellent score, or even a score close to my all time best, but it’s consistency. I did not blow up on any hole.

I also have a new putter, so it’s been a process of getting my putting back to where it once was, and my short game is a disaster with my new swing. When I dial those elements back in, I have a shot.

42. Play poker at least six times in 2019.

One game played in August. One game in 2019.

Five to go.

43. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 25 years.

Two days spent together so far. I’ve attempted a couple other days but schedules didn’t line up. Still trying like hell. I miss the guy.

44. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.

Done.

Siblings

There was a moment when I thought that one child was more than enough. Clara was about two-years old, she was cute as a button, and I thought our family was just right.

In fact, had it not been for Elysha’s desire for two kids, Clara might be an only child today.

Can you imagine how terrible that might have been?

I cannot bear the thought.

I don't see stuff

A couple days ago, one of my colleagues pointed at the #21 on my classroom door and said, “Are you going to remove that number at some point?”

For the 18 years that I’ve been in my classroom, the room number has never been #21. This is a number from a bygone day.

But here’s the strange thing (but also not-so-strange):

I’d never noticed the number on my door. In the almost two decades that I have spent in my classroom, I had never taken notice of that number.

Sounds crazy, I know. Maybe even impossible. But I’m also the person who once argued with his wife over the color of our house on the way home from the store, insisting that our house - one that we had been living in for years - was yellow. Unquestionably yellow.

She claimed that it was tan. Light brown, maybe. But nothing even approaching yellow.

As we turned onto our street and our house came into view, I realized that our house is not yellow.

Not even close.

So failing to notice a number on a door for almost two decades sounds ridiculous and yet is also not surprising. Elysha is fond of saying that if we lined up ten brunettes of approximately her height in a line, I could not pick her out from the group.

This is not true, of course, but there is truth in what she says.

What does this say about me?

I’m not sure, but it’s not great.

Nostalgia in the Pacific Northwest

While visiting friends in Washington two weeks ago, we stopped by Sprinkles, an ice cream shop decorated in nostalgia. Sitting along one wall of the store were the monoliths of my childhood:

Video games.

I spend many hours and many thousands of dollars playing Defender, Pole Position, Pac Man, and many, many others. There was a time in high school when my friends and I would vacation in Weirs Beach, New Hampshire simply because of the quality of the Half Moon Arcade and Fun Spot.

I like to think that there was something special about those coin-operated video games. By having to pay 25 cents to play, the stakes were higher on those games, and thus, the gaming sessions more important and more memorable.

In later years, I spent an enormous amount of time playing computer-based games like Warcraft, Diablo, and Madden, and it was unquestionably fun. But those days in the arcade - when every game required a financial investment- those were very special indeed.

On the flip side, Sprinkles was also selling candy cigarettes, which struck me as an incredibly stupid idea. While nostalgia is something I adore, there are certain items of nostalgia that should never be brought back into today’s world.

“Irish Need Not Apply” signs
Mercury thermometers
Leaded gas
Segregated drinking fountains
Asbestos
The General Lee from The Dukes of Hazard
The Macarena
Lawn darts
Chlorofluorocarbons
Birth of a Nation

Candy cigarettes belong on that list.

What the hell are you thinking, Sprinkles?

What's Next? Brand New Challenging Life Goals (UPDATED)

Last night I received an email from myself.

Two years ago, I apparently wrote a list entitled “What's Next? Brand New Challenging Life Goals.” Then I attached this to an email that was set to land in my inbox last night with the instructions from my past self to review and update.

I have no recollection of doing this, but it would seem that Long Ago Matt was a pretty smart guy because this was an interesting exercise.

It’s also not the first time that I’ve received an email from my past self. It happens more often than you’d think. I’m constantly thinking about future Matt and sending him stuff.

This particular list appears to be comprised of “big dream” items that are too difficult or too obscure to include on my yearly goals but still doable enough to keep on my horizon. Some of these “big dream” ideas were actually accomplished. Some had been forgotten, but I still love the idea today. A few fall into the category of “What the hell was I thinking?”

Here is that original list with the annotated updates that my past self demanded.

• Perform my one-person show in a theater (DONE! Several times over!)

• Spend a summer at Yawgoog Scout reservation (Still a goal)

• Write and direct a short film (Still a goal)

• Launch a podcast featuring the kids and me (DONE! Just 4 episodes but a real-life podcast!)

• Learn to make an outstanding tuna avocado melt for Elysha (Failed many times)

• Try curling (A forgotten goal but one I would love to try)

• Teach a college class for new teachers about the things that are really important (Still a goal)

• Officiate a funeral (What the hell was I thinking? Yet I’m still willing…)

• Become a notary (DONE!)

• Become an instructional coach (If I ever leave the classroom, my dream is to teach teachers in the first three years of their career)

• Design and teach a competitive yoga class (What the hell was I thinking?)

• Launch a storytelling podcast. Try to get Elysha to partner with you. (DONE!)

• Land a weekly column in a major newspaper (This has been a goal for a long, long time)

• Become an unlicensed therapist (A ridiculous idea but I think I would be exceptional at this)

• Try stand up comedy (DONE! Many times over!)

• Trademark “Homework for Life” (DONE!)

Not bad. Quite a few “brand new challenging life goals” weren’t as challenging as I originally thought. I was thrilled to see that quite few had been accomplished. It’s an exercise that I like a lot. It adheres to my belief that in addition to setting realistic, measurable goals for ourselves, we should also have new things on our horizons. Big idea goals. Things that might someday become a reality.

The horizon is the place where dreams are formed. It’s where we need to point ourselves. Too many people, I fear, never look to a horizon of new possibilities and instead remain fixated on their small, contained life.

In the spirit of looking to the horizon, here is the updated list that I just emailed to myself and scheduled to land in my inbox in two more years:

• Spend a summer (or perhaps a week) at Yawgoog Scout reservation

• Write and direct a short film

• Learn to make an outstanding tuna avocado melt for Elysha

• Try curling

• Teach a college class for new teachers about the things that are really important

• Become an instructional coach

• Land a weekly column in a major newspaper

• Become an unlicensed therapist

• Build to a solid, 20 minute stand up comedy set

• Publish a picture book

• Break 45 (or 90) on the golf course

• Visit with my father

A great problem to have. BUT STILL A PROBLEM.

This is one of those moments when I’m going to apologize for complaining about something that really shouldn’t be a complaint.

While visiting Pike Market in Seattle a couple weeks ago, we stopped in a great, little bookstore called Lion Heart Books, where we were thoroughly entertained by the owner, David Ghoddousi. His store didn’t carry any of my books, but it was small and eclectic. I was willing to forgive him.

Of course we bought some books for the kids (and a few for me). Clara and Charlie love books, and I’m always willing to spend a little money on the written word.

But for the next hour, Elysha and I had to demand that the children stop reading their books and “Look around!”

“Pick your heads up!”

“You can read anytime! You won’t see this place again for a long time!”

At one point Elysha popped into a Starbucks, so the kids immediately camped out on the corner, opened their books, and pretended that I didn’t exist.

I surrendered. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll look at the big, beautiful world and you can stick your noses into your dumb books.”

I know. I should be happy, and I am.

But still… look at them. What a couple of giant nerds.

Speak Up Storytelling: The Tragedy of Seattle

On episode #62 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling!

A little bit. 

In our follow-up segment, we explain the tragedies that caused us to be absent for the last three weeks. We also congratulate our friends in Australia on their first storytelling show! 

Next we offer a new strategy that Matt has been using in the classroom for a decade and recently brought it to his storytelling instruction with great success. 

Finally, we each offer a recommendation.  

Love me a good sign

We were visiting Deception Pass State Park in Washington when I saw this sign along a trail leading down to the turbulent waters of Puget Sound.

I’m not sure if it’s the guilelessness of the text or the clarity of the image (or perhaps a combination of the two), but I love this sign so much.

I love the its directness. The way it doesn’t pull any punches. It’s a sign designed to justifiably frighten people.

If someone was to fall off the edge of the trail and plunge to their death, I could see the person’s final thought being something like. “I can’t say they didn’t warn me.”

I love that.

Speak to strangers

On Wednesday night I’m standing at baggage claim in Bradley International Airport, waiting for the luggage carousel to begin turning,. It’s 10:00 PM. We left our friend’s home on the west coast at 5:30 AM, so it’s been a long day. I’m mentally urging my bags to appear when Clara sees a girl about her age off to the right and asks if she can go over and chat.

My first thought:

That’s weird. While waiting for luggage at an airport, you’re going to strike up a conversation with a stranger?

But we allow it, of course. Clara walks over to the girl and says, “Hi, my name is Clara. What’s your name?”

I cringe. I also worry that my daughter will be rejected. Embarrassed. Saddened.

Oddly, the two girls begin a legitimate conversation,. talking about where they began their day, their hometown, the upcoming school year, and more. I still think it’s weird, but it seemed to work out. I breathe a sigh of relief.

After finally extracting our luggage from the carousel, we begin heading to the airport shuttle when a man appears in front of me and says, “I just wanted to commend you on the parenting job that you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” I say. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I willingly accept all praise of every kind.

“The confidence that your daughter has,” the man says. “The way she introduced herself to my daughter. Her conversation skills. That’s not something that happens in the world today. It’s special.”

By now Elysha has pulled alongside me.

“Oh,” I say, realizing this is not a compliment for me. “Most of the credit goes to my wife,”

The man turns to Elysha, introduces himself, and repeats the compliment.

And it’s true. Most of the credit belongs to Elysha. Yes, I’m sure that I’ve helped to instill some of that confidence in my daughter, but that’s probably a 50/50 proposition at best. Just a few nights before, Clara and Charlie sat backstage, listening quietly, while I performed onstage to a sellout crowd in Seattle.

But in the middle of my performance, Elysha took the stage and played her ukulele and sang a song for just the second time ever in public.

Watching her parents do these things has probably helped Clara to become a more confident girl, but the ability to approach a stranger, extend a hand, and carry on a thoughtful conversation… that’s all Elysha. That is the result of Clara spending enormous amounts of time with Elysha in this world, watching her mother interact with all kinds of people in every possible scenario.

It’s not only confidence that Clara possesses. It’s social grace. It’s the difference between seeing an opportunity to engage in a conversation as potentially positive as opposed to thinking it weird.

And yes, the fact that Elysha was able to stay home with the kids for almost a decade probably helped this process, and for that, I can take a little credit. My endless procession of jobs helped to make that happen.

But more important, Clara needed a role model of social grace, and she had that in Elysha. All the jobs in the world can’t create a child who is confident enough to approach strangers and engage in conversation. As I told that man, most of the credit belongs to Elysha. Clara has watched Elysha engage with the world, and now she’s able to do the same..

The man said a few more kind things to both of us, shook our hands one more time, and returned to his family.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect vacation. It was one of those moments that I will never forget.

It was also a reminder of the power of the kindness of strangers. Clara wasn’t the only person engaging in conversation with strangers that night. That man, whose name I will never forget, took the time to chase us down and say something that caused our hearts to soar.

I know we teach our kids not to talk to strangers, and most of the time, that advice is sound. But when the moment is right and the space is safe, talking to strangers can be a beautiful thing.

I’m learning that from Elysha, too.

And Clara. I’m learning it from her, too.

Since returning from the Pacific Northwest, I've noticed this.

Elysha, the kids, and I had the absolute pleasure of spending a week on Whidbey Island off the coast of Washington with our friend, Plato. A perfect way to spend a week.

We miss it already.

Since returning from the Pacific Northwest a couple of days ago, a few things are immediately apparent to me:

1. It’s really humid here. The air has a physical presence that I hadn’t really noticed before. I’ve been out west many times, but never to the Pacific Northwest. Even places in the midwest like Michigan, Kansas, Illinois, and Ohio are incredibly humid in the summer. But not Washington. I’d forgotten how oppressive the humidity can be here on a daily basis. It sucks.

2. The crickets and peepers are incredibly loud when the sun goes down. Whidbey Island is surprisingly absent of both, making it so wondrously quiet at night.

3. People drive aggressively here in the northeast, and particularly in Massachusetts. It’s dog-eat-dog on the roadways, and blessedly so. Pacific Northwest drivers are the worst. So polite and deferential and observant of speed limits.

YOLO is not new

A twenty-something explained on a podcast that her generation doesn’t believe in allowing things to pass them by.

“You know,” she said. “YOLO. That’s where that word comes from.”

Just for the record:

YOLO is an acronym popularized by Drake in his hit song “The Motto,” but it’s certainly nothing new. “You only live once” is a sentiment that has existed for a long, long time. Simply because the current generation of young people have affixed an acronym to an age-old expression doesn’t make them any more daring than previous generations.

When my friend, Bengi, and I decided to drive overnight from Fort Lauderdale, FL to Myrtle Beach, SC to avoid losing a day of vacation to traveling after having already been awake for nearly 24 hours (and ended up seeing identical delusional clowns on the side of the road in South Carolina), we certainly could’ve been shouting “YOLO!” through our car windows.

When I agreed to compete in an underground, middle-of-the-night arm wrestling gambling ring in Brockton, MA , I could’ve shouted “YOLO!” upon descending the stairs in that abandoned elementary school.

When I decided to dam a river to see if I could cut off the supply of water to The Basin, an ancient rock and water tourist attraction in the mountains of Laconia, NH (and succeeded), I could’ve shouted “YOLO” when the first tree fell across the river.

When so many of my friends decided that it was better to work two or three jobs, sleep on couches, and eat ramen rather than living for a single second more with their parents, they all could’ve been shouting “YOLO!” from the windows of their cruddy apartments.

Simply because my generation and the generations before me didn’t apply an acronym to the sentiment or speak incessantly about the importance of living your life like you only live once doesn’t mean we weren’t doing so.

So just stop.