Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 104

Explaining my orchestral narration gig

Questions were posed about the mention of my recent orchestral narration of Jewish comedy folktales.

Justifiably so.

Essentially, I performed onstage alongside a full orchestra under the leadership of Joseph Ness, who composed the score for the narration and conducted the orchestra. Then, as the orchestra played, I spoke, narrating “The Wise Men of Chelm,” Jewish folktales about the town of Chelm and the fools who resided therein.

It was a challenging gig.

Thankfully, I read music fairly well after years of playing the flute, bassoon, and drums, and Joseph was standing about four feet away, ready to cue me when needed. After rehearsing several times with the orchestra, our timing was solid.

It was the Jewish words that I struggled with most, starting with “Chelm,” which is properly pronounced with that back-of-the-throat “CH” sound that I could not consistently make.

Not being Jewish, I never really needed to produce that sound.

While the music, narration, timing, and overall performance required great focus and attention, my biggest struggle was pronouncing those Jewish words correctly.

I had to say “Chelm” 29 times.

It was daunting.

When I was initially asked to perform, Elysha wondered if I should commit to a job like this, which would require much time and attention to get right. Unlike telling a story, delivering a speech, or performing standup, I would be performing someone else’s words this time, and many people would be depending on me to get it right. There would be no room for improvisation if something went wrong. I needed to stick to the script and land every word on the page perfectly.

Except it wasn’t just people who were depending upon me. It was an orchestra of professional musicians. Remarkably talented and skilled people who are masters of their craft. Just sitting amongst them for rehearsals was astounding. Listening to them play the music, collaborate with one another, and work in concert with their conductor was both an honor and a privilege.

But it wasn’t easy. There were moments when I wondered if Elysha had been right about this gig being a good idea.

But when I was first asked, I told her, “When will I ever be asked to do something like this again? It’s probably my only chance to ever perform alongside an orchestra. I have to say yes.”

So I did. As I almost always do.

I say yes to almost every opportunity presented to me, even if it strikes me as difficult, ridiculous, or even potentially disastrous. A “Yes” can easily be transformed into a “No” if needed, but why close the door on an opportunity without first giving it a chance?

You never know how you’ll feel about something until you try.

If you think otherwise, or if you assume that you can accurately predict how you might feel about something before giving it a try, you are filled with hubris and presumptuousness that will not serve you well.

Ultimately, I was thrilled to perform alongside Joseph Ness and his amazing orchestra. I had the opportunity to work with a talented composer, a supremely skilled conductor, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. And following the performance, I heard from dozens of people who appreciated my efforts, even if I didn’t pronounce every word exactly right.

Could I have done better? Absolutely.

Would I be willing to take another crack at an orchestral narration in the future? Without a doubt.

Would I do some things differently the next time? Definitely.

But now I have a memory of a night when I performed in partnership with an orchestra, and I’ll carry that memory with me forever. So, too, will Elysha and my children, who watched me perform that night.

Another wise use of the word yes.

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Target your compliments carefully

I was narrating Jewish comedy folktales in concert with a full orchestra last Sunday evening.

As you do.

During intermission, I was making my way through the lobby when a man stopped me and said:

“Matthew Dicks! You’re the most Jewish Gentile in our community!”

I thanked the man for the compliment and pleaded with him to find Elysha, who was somewhere in the venue and repeat the compliment to her.

I was sure that it would make her swoon.

One of my primary goals in life is to make my Elysha swoon.

Sadly, he did not find Elysha to repeat the compliment. Perhaps he thought I was kidding, or maybe he couldn’t find Elysha. It’s also possible that my request was just too weird to carry out.

Either way, I eventually had to repeat the compliment to Elysha myself.

She didn’t exactly swoon, but she swayed a bit.

Let this be a lesson to all of us:

It’s often better to say the compliment to the person’s spouse than to the actual person.

Or just say it to both the person and their spouse. Both are great, too.

Mean person says stupid, hilarious stuff

One of the joys I experience as someone who puts things into the world – both on the page and from the stage – is the thankfully rare but hilariously mean response to my thoughts, ideas, and opinions.

Last week, I received one of these responses in the form of an email that read:

Read your piece Holiday traditions and came to a conclusion that you are a perfit fit for your surname – you are a prick faced dick. Have a Happy !!

I laughed aloud when I read the email, and I just laughed again after cutting and pasting it here. It’s so wonderful on so many fronts.

First, the misspelling of “perfect” is perfect. I love it when someone takes the time to attack me but can’t muster the resources to avoid an embarrassing misspelling.

In addition to “perfect” being spelled wrong, a word seems to be missing at the end of the message. If I want to be nitpicky (and I do in these cases), “holiday” should also not be capitalized, and more than one exclamation point is always a sign of stupidity.

As if two exclamation points will cause me to read the sentence with even more volume. Twice as much volume!

The whole thing is hilarious.

The actual insult is also amusing. Does this person, whose name I have omitted because I’m not nearly the jackass he is, really think that his insult is original in the slightest? Does he really think that a writer with the last name Dicks hasn’t heard every joke about his name one billion times before?

If you’re going to attack me, at least be original.

If you’re going to try to be funny, at least be amusing. Even I’ve made funnier jokes about my own last name.

I’d like to think I’ve ascended beyond the level of middle school name-calling.

But here’s the best part:

I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve written a blog post every day of my life for more than 19 years. I’ve written the humor column for Seasons magazine since 2015, and many of those pieces have focused on holiday celebrations of one kind or another. I also write an advice column for Slate magazine and have written about holiday traditions many times before.

Which piece of writing could this nasty, brutish person be writing about?

I have no idea!

The thought that I write and publish so much that I can’t identify the offending piece thrilled me beyond compare. While this man is firing off his poorly written, unoriginal insults, I’m busy producing real, lasting, profitable content.

That simple fact fills my heart with joy.

So my reply to the troll was this:

Hello XXXX,

I write and get paid to write in lots and lots of places – magazines, my blog, and several online publications, just to name a few – so I’m not sure which piece you are referring to. If you’d be so kind enough to let me know which piece offended your delicate sensibilities, I’d greatly appreciate it.Warmly,
MattIt’s been more than a week since I sent my message, but my detractor has yet to respond. I suspect he’s crawled back into his hole, unwilling to respond to a cogent, polite, and inquisitive response.Sometimes, when cruelty and thoughtlessness are met with civility and decency, the person is confronted with their rotten behavior and recognizes how awful they had been.Perhaps this is the case here.Or perhaps he simply ran out of stupid things to say.

Stop doing stuff

I believe in eliminating everything from our lives that is unnecessary, unhelpful, and unnoticed. Senseless routines. Needless steps. Meaningless tasks.

Get rid of them all.

I am well known for my willingness to pilot the “I’m not going to do this seemingly senseless task. Let’s see what happens!” plan.

Oftentimes, the answer is nothing. Nothing happens. No one ever cares. The world is built upon pointless tasks, needless bureaucracy, and time-sucking nonsense.

Case in point:

I received a note from a friend who read my book, Someday Is Today, in which I expound and expand upon this strategy in great detail.

He wrote:
_______________________________

Hi Matt,

I have been meaning to write you to thank you. Each week I provide a vendor of one of my customers with a manual report. There is a column that I was populating each week that I knew the vendor did not need. After reading your book, I decided to delete the column from the spreadsheet and not include it in my weekly report.This saves me at least five minutes a week, but more importantly, it gives me so much satisfaction! Of course, the vendor has not ever noticed the missing field.I think of you and appreciate you each Friday when I delete that column. It’s a wonderful feeling. Please keep doing what you are doing, as you help people tremendously!_______________________________Not only is he saving five minutes every week (more than four hours every year), but doing so makes him happy.I love this! And I get it. I feel the same way when I remove a bit of stupidity from my life and find myself with a little extra time.Avoiding stupid, needless stuff makes you feel good.See if you can eliminate something from your life this week. Not turn signals or vitamin C or showering, but the dumb stuff.The self-imposed tasks that are utterly unnecessary.
The longstanding routines that have stopped being relevant,The needless requirements imposed by others.Eliminate one and see what happens. And let me know how it goes.

Hanging with your partner

In relationships, my advice is this:

Look for somebody you can enjoy just sitting beside in close proximity.

Marriages and other long-term relationships are mostly spent just chilling out together. Even the most adventurous souls spend most of their time sitting and lying down beside each other.

Make certain that the love of your life is the kind of person with who you would happily share a couch for the rest of your life.

The tong lady

I’m assembling the worst peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the planet in the cafeteria at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health.

Organic, all-natural peanut butter and jam that is essentially raspberry-flavored seeds.

I’m sure it would’ve been delicious had I not been me.

I open a bread box and reach in for two of the four remaining slices of peasant bread (which, as far as I can tell, is also called bread) when a woman from somewhere behind me says, “Use the tongs!”

I hear the words, pause, but then ignore them, thinking she isn’t speaking to me. I don’t see any tongs and can’t imagine needing tongs to extract two slices of bread from this box.

So I reach again, and once again, I hear, “Use the tongs!” More forcefully this time.

I turn.

The woman, I realize, is speaking to me. She’s sitting about 15 feet away at a table, eating her lunch, her chair angled so she can face in my direction.

I can’t believe it. Someone already eating is also monitoring the bread box, ensuring that people like me use the tongs.

She’s the damn tong police.

Many options race through my mind. Some are more aggressive than others. I take a second, consider my choices, then turn and saunter over to the woman. I stop at her table, smile, and say, “Really? Is this what you do?”

I can’t believe what follows.

She stares at me for a moment, then smiles, laughs a little, and says, “You’re right. Sorry.”

Completely friendly. Wholly apologetic. Utterly kind and reasonable. Actually amused with herself.

I had been expecting more. So much more. I had anticipated conflict, and honestly, I was hoping for it. I thought I was ready for all the possibilities that might follow, but I wasn’t prepared for rationality, reasonability, or kindness.

I was so annoyed.

Which, I realize, says a lot about me (and not all good):

I like conflict. I treasure verbal debate. Years of verbal combat versus a stepfather, followed by a career on the college debate circuit (two-time state champion), followed by two decades of writing things that often manage to annoy or upset a small (and sometimes large) group of people, have left me relishing a good argument.

This isn’t all bad. Many times, my willingness to jump into the fray can be exceedingly useful, especially for those who are more reticent about engaging in conflict. I often find myself speaking for those less willing. Sometimes people come to me, asking me to take up the mantle of disagreement on their behalf.

But actively seeking conflict? Looking for opportunities to disagree, even when the reason for arguing is less than necessary?

That might not be my best quality. Looking for a fight might not be the best thing.

On this particular day, I had failed to find a fight because I had forgotten to consider one crucial factor:

I was at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. This place is filled with the most introspective, kind, and thoughtful people. You go to Kripalu to find peace, understanding, and centeredness. When someone at Kripalu is accused of acting like the tong police, their response is not outrage or anger. Instead, they opt to be reflective and objective.

Seeking conflict at a place like Kripalu is a fool’s errand.

Elysha has always said that I’m an odd fit at Kripalu. Perhaps this is why.

Spend vs. Earn

I like this graphic because it’s not a comparison between poor and rich.

It’s a comparison between normal and rich.

It’s a thing that I have understood and practiced for nearly two decades, but I wish I had understood and practiced it from the moment I started working.

Fourth wall identifier

While listening to Hamilton last week, Charlie pointed out the moments when the show breaks the fourth wall and specifically addresses the audience and its existence, as well as when the  show “stays inside itself.”

He also expressed his approval of these particular artistic choices.

I express support for Charlie’s constant desire to analyze the underpinnings of every movie, television show, musical, and song. As someone who once wrote to Steven Speilberg at age 11 to complain about a scene in “E.T.the Extra-Terrestrial” and offer my services to fix the “one or two stupid things” he does in every movie, it’s been thrilling to watch my son grow equally obsessed with the things he’s listening to and watching.

It’s joyous to have someone in my life who is relentlessly willing to examine the plumbing while still enjoying the art, too.

Matt’s list of extremely simple life hacks

Better career: Do excellent work
Better health: Eat healthier food and exercise
Better social life: Volunteer
Improved wealth: Spend less and invest more
Improved happiness: Watch less and do more

She’s come a long way…

I came home from a weekend of teaching storytelling and found the house decorated for Christmas.

Beautiful. Right?

And other than the Christmas tree, everything was done by Elysha and the kids.

She’s come a long way.

Back in 2003, my Jewish wife celebrated her first Christmas with me after moving in together. She chose the Christmas tree that year, which came to be known as “The Wild One.”

I can’t be certain, but I think it was about seven feet wide and three feet tall. It was ridiculous, hilarious, and unforgettable.

But Elysha was only one year old in Christmas years, so who could blame her? She didn’t know.

Today she’s 19 years old in Christmas years and has clearly learned a thing or two over the course of many holiday seasons. She may be Jewish, but she can really decorate the hell out of Christmas, too.