Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 105

Police officers teach me an excellent lesson

My friend, Erin, recently reminded me of a slightly scary and utterly bizarre moment that we shared years ago when I was on tour for my book “Storworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling.”

I was speaking at the New York City Public Library, and I had asked Erin, a fantastic storyteller and CEO of The Story Collider, to interview me. The room was filled to capacity, and additional seating was being made available in the area just outside the room, where our talk would be broadcast live.

Elysha, my in-laws, and the kids were present, sitting in the front row. We were a minute or two away from starting when a woman entered the room, could not find a seat, and refused to leave. She approached me, insisting that she be allowed to remain in the room, explaining that she had registered for the event and needed to hear me speak in hopes of changing her life.

I directed her to the librarian, who kindly informed her that registering for the event did not guarantee a seat in the main room, but seating was still available in the alternate space.

She refused to leave and rapidly became irate. In seconds, it became clear that she was not an entirely rational person. I quickly made eye contact with Elysha, sending the message, “Watch the kids. This lady is not right.”

Try as she might, the librarian could not get this woman to budge. I told her that I’d be more than happy to meet with her after the talk and answer a few questions, but she held her ground. She wanted a seat, damn it, and she wasn’t going to move until she got one. Audience members began to become aware of the situation and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Part of me thought, “Give the lady a seat. I know the room has a designated capacity, but I don’t think one extra person will doom us all in the highly unlikely event there is a fire in the NYC library.”

But another, perhaps larger part of me thought, “If you’re not early, you’re late, lady. If this was so important to you. you should’ve been here ten minutes ago when seats were still available. Stop violating the social contract and making us all uneasy.”

About ten minutes later, two police officers arrived and attempted to coax the woman from the room.

Still, she refused.

Then one police officer said, “Listen, this isn’t the place to sort this out. The show won’t start until you’re happy, but let’s just step over here to talk privately.”

The police officer motioned to a side door. The woman paused for a moment, staring at the door and then back at me as if to say, “You heard him. Don’t you dare start until I get back.” Then she followed the officer through the side door.

The second officer stopped at the door, leaned in, and whispered, “Okay, you can get started now.” Then he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

I have no idea what happened behind that door. Maybe the police officers and the woman engaged in a polite and reasonable discourse, which resulted in her leaving of her own accord.

Or maybe handcuffs were instantly applied, and she was forcefully removed.

I have no idea. I never saw the woman again.

It was a crazy moment created by a woman who was tragically desperate and clearly unhinged, at least at that particular moment.

But I learned an important lesson that I still use to this day:

When dealing with an irrational person, there is no point in dealing honestly with that person. No reason to be logical or honest or consistent in any way.

When dealing with an irrational person, say whatever needs to be said to safely remove the person from the space or get the person to cease their irrational and possibly dangerous behavior.

No space exists for an honest broker in situations like that. Instead, be a dishonest, manipulative, deceptive monster if necessary. When de-escalating an irrational person, the ends justify the means.

This strategy has mainly been deployed when dealing with students who have become irrational for a variety of reasons, though I have also used it twice on adults in storytelling workshops who are not okay and once with an adult at Target.

When it comes to students, they tend to be younger than the fifth graders who I teach, though even a fifth grade can lose their mind for a moment.

In all of these cases, I simply find the thing the person wants to hear in order to move them into a safe place or a more rational state of being.

A lesson learned from New York City’s finest.

The boy loves “The Far Side”

I purchased the complete collection of Gary Larson’s “The Far Side” comics:

The Complete Far Side: 1980-1994

19.94 pounds of hilarity.

I actually bought the collection for my business. “The Far Side” is humor instruction at its finest. Perfect for illustrating the many concepts I teach in my workshops and videos.

Charlie saw the two enormous tomes sitting on the table, and in moments, I was introducing him to “The Far Side” for the first time in his life.

He loved it. “The Far Side” appeals to the two things Charlie loves most:

Make sense of things and laughing his ass off.

We spent about an hour working our way through the book, only getting halfway through 1981 before we had to quit. Not only did we laugh a lot, but deciphering each comic afforded me the opportunity to teach him so much about pop culture and the world in general. We had long discussions about famous books and films, well-known politicians from the past, moments from history, and the inner workings of the mafia.

About an hour after we had put the books aside, Charlie asked me if we could read some more comics together.

“You really like those comics?” I asked.

“Dad,” he said. “I love them.”

I anxiously await your nomination for Parent of the Year.

Twain on death and my FOMO

Mark Twain was a genius. A brilliant writer. An insightful thinker. A master humorist. Clever beyond measure.

But this statement is nonsense. These are words written by a man who presumably had many days left to live.

Yes, it’s true. I was also dead for billions upon billions of years before I was born and didn’t experience an ounce of consternation during that time, but I also didn’t know what I was missing. I had not been made aware of the wondrous nature of life. The beauty of existence. The daily joy I feel in moving through this world.

Before I was born, I didn’t know love, laughter, and The Simpsons. I had not yet fallen in love with Elysha, my children, and the New England Patriots. I had not experienced a perfect autumn day in New England, a languid July afternoon at the beach, and the quiet of Christmas morning, just before the children come tumbling down the stairs to turn presents into things that need to be put away.

I had not yet tasted a cheeseburger, listened to Springsteen, or watched a golf ball drop into the cup.

Before I was born, I did not know the feel of an audience’s energy as I perform onstage, the thrill of seeing one of my books on a shelf in a bookstore, or the wide-eyed look of astonishment when a 10-year-old student suddenly understands something for the first time.

You cannot suffer the loss of something you never had.

But now that I’ve had so very much, I cannot bear the thought of it all disappearing one day.

It’s why I’m unable, from time to time, to hold back the imposing darkness of my everpresent, relentless existential crisis and dissolve into a quaking pile of hopeless, terrified goo.

Twain was right about most things, but not about this one.

Twain died of a heart attack in 1910. I can’t help but wonder if he was quite so sanguine in his last moments on this Earth.

Use a microphone.

A new study estimates that between 670 million and 1.35 billion people ages 12 to 35 are at risk of hearing loss because of how they listen to music from devices.

It’s a potentially disastrous finding.

But even before this possible surge, hearing loss has always been a problem and far more prevalent than you might think. This is because hearing loss is an invisible disability, and people often opt to conceal their hearing loss from others, so it’s almost impossible to know who might be suffering from it.

This is why it’s critical to use a microphone when speaking publicly whenever possible. You never know who in your audience might have difficulty hearing, which makes the act of putting the microphone aside and saying, “Can everyone hear me without this thing?” a very stupid thing to do.

Simply put, do you really think the handful of hearing-impaired people in your audience is going to rise up and say, “No, not really! Please use the damn microphone!”

They won’t.

They may not even hear the question if you didn’t ask it while using the microphone.

Yet time and time again, I watch speakers (always men) toss the microphone aside, puff out their chests, and speak with a loud voice, assuming that their powerful baritone will carry the room and all will be well.

It won’t.

I have a loud voice. I am capable of speaking exceptionally loudly when needed. A few years ago, I was performing at a charity event for a few hundred people when the power went out. When it became clear that electricity would not be restored anytime soon, I stood atop a small table, and in the blinding light of a dozen iPhones, I continued to perform.

I was later praised for my ability to adjust to the situation and continue bellowing out my stories for all the hear.

But I know that at least a handful of people in that audience couldn’t hear my voice clearly. As loud as I was, I know I lost some audience members because they could not hear as well as others when the microphone ceased to function.

I did a fine job that night. I made the best of a bad situation. But some people almost certainly missed most of the show.

The message here is simple:

If there is a microphone, use a microphone.

If there isn’t a microphone, ask if one is available.

If a microphone isn’t available, explain to the person in charge that it should be.

Never assume that you’re loud enough or that your voice will carry the room because you never know the limitations of your audience. Sadly, there is still a real stigma attached to hearing loss, so people will not freely disclose their disability.

Nor should they need to in order to hear you.

Audience members should not be required to disclose their disabilities in order for a speaker to accommodate their auditory needs. Use the microphone. I don’t care how much it complicates your ability to move around the stage or manipulate items in your hands.

If you can’t be heard, those items will mean nothing to the audience anyway.

You may also want to learn to use a microphone properly, which you probably think is simple, but I assure you is not. A frustratingly large percentage of people – including seasoned performers – cannot use a microphone properly, but that is a lesson for another day.

Resolution update: November 2022

Every month I report the progress of my yearly goals in order to monitor progress (or the lack thereof) and hold myself accountable.  The following are the result from November 2022.PERSONAL FITNESS

1. Don’t die.

November was a dangerous month.

I changed a flat tire on I-95 at 12:30 AM.
I was scratched by my cat but managed to avoid cat scratch fever.
I played in our school’s annual flag football game and made a diving catch that wrenched my shoulder.

It still hurts a little.

But I’m still alive.

2. Lose 20 pounds.

I lost one pound in November.

Down just four pounds for the year.

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

Done.

4. Cycle for at least 5 days every week.

Done. Almost all indoors. Didn’t miss a single day in November.

5. Establish my golfing handicap, then lower that handicap by at least 2. 

Handicap established at the beginning of the year was a whopping 35.4.

Handicap is currently 17.6, down 5 strokes since October.

Lessons work.

WRITING CAREER

6. Complete my seventh novel.

I’m well on my way to finishing the revision of my middle-grade novel.  I’ve also started working on my next adult novel in earnest.

Between the middle-grade novel and the new adult novel, one should be completed by the end of the year, I hope.

7. Prepare “Storyworthy 2” or update “Storyworthy” or both for a potential sale. 

DONE! The follow-up to “Storyworthy” – “You Are Storyworthy” – won’t be my next nonfiction title, even though it’s written. I’ll be writing a different storytelling book first for strategic reasons.

Still, the book is done and will be published eventually.

8. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist and one protagonist who is not neurotypical.

One picture book is completed and in the hands of my agent. We will be looking for a publisher shortly.

I’ve almost finished a manuscript from 2021 entitled “Who Put the Baby in a Tree?”

I’ve also started two new picture books.

9. Complete a memoir.

I have two memoirs in progress.

One about the two-year period when I was arrested, jailed, and tried for a crime I did not commit, which also led to homelessness then a pantry off a kitchen that I shared with a goat. I was also the victim of a horrific robbery at that time that left me with a lifetime of PTSD amongst other awfulness. Also participation in an underground arm wrestling and gambling ring.

The second is about the two-year period in which a lowly band of anonymous cowards attempted to destroy my teaching career.

My agent and I have decided to put these books on the back burner. Memoir is a tougher sell right now unless you’re a legitimate celebrity or the inventor of a bionic eye.

Still, both ideas will make excellent books.

10. Write a new screenplay.

I spoke to my writing partner, who has been derailed from our project by several other projects. We hope to resume writing soon.

11. Write a solo show.

I’m working on a solo show based on my arrest and trial for a crime I didn’t commit, but I have another idea:

List all the things I’ve ever stolen on a chalkboard and then tell a story about each one. Cleverly construct a narrative that encompasses all the stories.

But I spent a long car ride with my production manager, structuring an entirely different story. I’m booking a theater as soon as possible. Hopefully before the end of the year.

Any theater managers want to book me?

12. Write a musical.

Writing has commenced! I’m writing the book and will be passing it onto my writing partner soon.

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

DONE!

Seven essays submitted so far to the New York Times in 2022.

14. Write at least four letters to my father.

Letter #2 was sent in November. A Veteran’sDay card.

15. Write 100 letters in 2022.

DONE! A total of 20 letters were written in November, including a thank you note as well as letters to students and a parent of a student.

A total of 184 letters written in 2022 so far.

16. Convert 365 Days of Elysha into a book.

I’ve passed this project on to my production manager, but she’s busy with other things at the moment.

17. Read at least 12 books. 

DONE! I’ve read 26 books in 2022 so far.

I read the following books in November:

“The Fearless Organization” by Amy Edmondson

I’m currently reading books:

“Foreverland” by Heather Havrilesky
“From Saturday Night to Sunday Night” by Dick Ebersol
“Wow. No Thank You” by Samantha Irby
“Think Like a Monk” by Jay Shetty
“The Groucho Letters”

My list of completed books now includes:

“We Don’t Need Roads: The Making of the Back to the Future Trilogy”
“Confidence Man”
“Telephone”
“I’d Like to Play Alone, Please”
“Revolutionary Summer: The Birth of American Independence”
“The Nineties”
“The Presentation Secrets of Steve Jobs”
“Nice Try”
“The World’s Worst Assistant”
“Adventures in the Screen Trade”
“I’ll Show Myself Out”
“How to Tell a Story”
“The Lightning Thief”
“Contagious”
“In the Great Green Room: The Brilliant and Bold Life of Margaret Wise Brown”
“It’s So Easy”
“Poetics”
“The Office BFFs”
“Making Numbers Count”
“The Passion Economy”
“Empire of Pain”
“The Anthropocene Reviewed”
“Liar’s Poker”
“Matrix”
“Coreyography”

18. Write to at least six authors about a book that I especially like. 

No letters were written in November.

Three letters so far in 2022.

STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER

19. Complete the recordings for my new business for at least two target consumers. 

Recording for the first set of target consumers (corporate folk) is done!

I’ll ultimately need to re-record everything because I can see all the places for improvement, but for now, it’s done and is very good.

Just not excellent yet.

Once we launch, I will begin recording videos for our next target customer. Unlikely to complete the second set of recordings in 2022.

20. Engage with LinkedIn at least once per week.

Success! I received a ton of direct messages in November and responded to each of them. I also posted original at least half a dozen times.

21. Produce a total of 6 Speak Up storytelling events.

Done!

Six shows produced so far in 2022.

We produced a virtual show in collaboration with my school on March 19.

We produced a live, outdoor show in partnership with the Hill-stead Museum on July 13.

I produced two live storytelling shows at The Mount on July 16 and 17.

We produced my book launch event – including storytelling – on July 30.

We produced “Red Talks: Presented by Confessions of a Mensturator” on October 8.

22. Pitch myself to at least 3 upcoming TEDx events with the hopes of being accepted by one.

Done!

I pitched to a total of five TEDx conferences back in April.

Two have passed on my pitches. I await word on two others.

But good news! The 2023 TEDx conference at the University of Connecticut has accepted me!

I also spoke at TEDxCornell back in April.

I’ve also helped three clients get accepted to TEDx conferences this year. One of my clients took the stage in October and reportedly killed it.

23. Attend at least 6 Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

DONE! One Moth event in November. My name was not pulled from the bag.

A total of 16 Moth events so far in 2022.

24. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.

DONE! THREE TIMES!

I won a StorySLAM in New York in February.

I won a StorySLAM in Boston in June.

I won a Moth StorySLAM in Washington, DC in August.

I’ve won three out of six StorySLAMs in 2022. A little below my average win rate, but still not bad.

The next time I take the stage at a Moth StorySLAM will be my one-hundredth StorySLAM performance.

25. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.x

DONE! TWICE!

I won Boston’s Moth GrandSLAM at The Wilbur on April 26.

I won New York City’s Moth GrandSLAM at The Music Hall of Williamsburg on May 16.

It was my eighth and ninth GrandSLAM championships.

I’m competing in another Moth GrandSLAM in Boston in December.

26. Produce at least 12 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.

We have yet to record an episode in 2022.

27. Convert my YouTube channel into an actual channel. 

I’m declaring this goal complete. My production manager re-designed the channel, and I’ve been accumulating content for release. I’ve also curated the content on the channel. removing material that is no longer relevant.

My team has also launched a second YouTube channel for our new business.

28. Perform stand-up at least 3 times in 2022.

I have a list of open mics that are currently running in Connecticut. More than enough to resume.

I’m still trying to find the courage (and time) to get back on the stand-up stage.

29. Pitch a story to This American Life.

DONE! I pitched one story to This American Life in April.

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

Done. Three pitches were made in 2022. No response.

31. Send a newsletter to readers at least 25 times (every other week). 

DONE!

Six more newsletters were sent in November as my new business officially launched.

Admittedly, I have a team of people helping me write these newsletters now, but if I don’t write a newsletter myself, it comes from content I previously produced, and I revise and edit it before sending it to subscribers.

A total of 29 sent so far in 2022.

I’ll be returning to a more regular, bi-weekly schedule moving forward.

HOME

32. Clear the basement.

Still working through the mess made when the contractor built the studio. Organization is being worked on, but a considerable number of items need to be removed.

I’m still making incremental progress.

33. Organize the children’s books.

DONE!

Books were removed from the kids’ bedrooms and divided into three bunches:

Keep in rotation for kids/students (now been returned to shelves).Store for future grandchildren (now stored in the basement)Give away to those in need (now donated).FAMILY/FRIENDS

34. Text or call my brother or sister once per month. 

Done.

35. Take at least one photo of my children every day.

Done.

36. Take at least one photo with Elysha and me each week.

Just one in November. Actually three, but they were all taken on the same day.

 

37. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

A date had been chosen for August, but because of vacations, I will be rescheduling soon.

38. I will not comment, positively or negatively, about the physical appearance of any person save my wife and children, in 2022 in an effort to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.

Done. Life is so much better then you don’t open your mouth to speak negatively about someone else’s appearance.

Also, more than two dozen people have also begun adhering to this goal in 2022.

 39. Compliment one person every day on a topic unrelated to physical appearance. 

This turns out to be easier than I thought, at least as long as I’m teaching. I constantly give my students positive feedback, and I compliment my own children and Elysha quite a bit.

In addition to complimenting my students and family, I also spent October complimenting many clients, lots of friends on the golf course, a bunch of my teaching colleagues, and a McDonald’s employee.

This goal has proven to be a layup.

40. Surprise Elysha at least six times in 2022.

DONE!

I surprised Elysha with another Pusheen Club box in November.

Surprises in 2022 also include:

Tickets to “The Old Man in the Pool” with Mike BirbigliaA well-timed Starbucks caramel macchiatoPusheen Club box, filled with an assortment of movie-themed Pusheen gifts.A complete set of Smith College chinaA card on her dashboard following a less-than-ideal April vacation.A surprise visit to her classroom on an especially challenging day to bring her a cupcake.A card mailed to her school with thoughts of encouragement and love, written by “The Universe.”A planned weekend getaway (later this summer) for her and a friend to Water’s Edge, a resort and spa on the coast of Connecticut.Flowers on Mexican Mother’s DayPusheen Club box, featuring garden-themed Pusheen gifts.A signed first edition of “From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler” by E.L. KonigsburgTickets to Hamilton on BroadwayPusheen Club box, featuring school-themed Pusheen gifts.A box of small gifts presented on the night before the first day of schoolTickets to Beetlejuice on Broadway for NovemberTickets to the CT Forum to see Sonia Sotomayor in NovemberCupcakes for our Labor Day “end of summer” dinner

That’s 21 surprises so far in 2022.

41. Play poker at least six times in 2022.

No games in November. .

Just two games in total in 2022.

42. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.

Four days spent together so far in 2022.

NEW PROJECTS

43. Create an emergency preparedness kit for each car.

Done! Emergency preparedness kits purchased. I’ve also added several necessary items to each.

44. Memorize the lyrics to at least 5 favorite songs.

Done! Charlie and I are working on “Renegade” now.

Songs I’ve memorized this year include:

“Fat Bottomed Girls
“Come On Eileen”
“Mr. Blue Sky”
“Come Sail Away”
“Come a Little Closer”
“More Than a Feeling”

45. Learn to play the piano by practicing at least three times a week. 

Done.

46. Convert our wedding video to a transferable format.

Another task passed off to my production manager, who has been working on it. A lot trickier than expected.

47. Memorize 5 new poems.

Memorized:

“Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost“This Is Just to Say” by William Carlos William“I’m Nobody. Who Are You” by Emily Dickinson

Working on three others.

48. Write to at least 3 colleges about why they should hire me.

No progress.

49. Understand Instagram better.

Done! My social media team is now running parts of my Instagram, and I understand what they are doing, how they did it, and why they are doing it.

50. Complete my Eagle Scout project.

I’ve reached out to a local church and the town of Newington in an effort to move the project from Blackstone, MA to Newington, CT and perhaps involve Charlie’s Boy Scout troop. I have yet to connect with the person in charge because even small-town government moves slowly.

But I’m excited.

51. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.

Done.

Look! A leader!

A reader shared this with me:
____________________________

Our school district hired a new superintendent last year. One of the first things he did was declare that the first snow day would be the only real snow day of the year. Any further severe weather would be conducted as virtual school.

Not great, but at least kids would get one day to build snowmen and have snowball fights and all that.

Well, that first snow day produced no snow as the forecasted storm skirted our area. It was a huge disappointment, especially knowing that when it did actually snow, the kids would be stuck inside on their screens for virtual school.

The superintendent responded by gathering with a few kindergartners to help him make a video explaining to them that he made a mistake, that he was sorry, and that we all make mistakes sometimes. He let them jokingly scold him and promised a real snow day the next time we got a storm.

Then he sent the video to everyone in the district.

As I watched the superintendent admit his error to the children, I rejoiced inside.

A leader willing to own up to his errors? To change his plans when it becomes clear they are unreasonable or unfair?

Hooray for that.
____________________________

This story really shouldn’t be special, but today, lots of people in leadership positions see apologies as a sign of weakness.

Others suffer from fragile egos and can’t handle the prospect of admitting fault and being seen as less-than-perfect or possibly flawed.

Others are simply self-serving, narcissistic monsters.

Some might be all three.

Whatever the reason for their unwillingness to apologize, these are weak, fragile, and stupid human beings because the ability to apologize is and has always been a signal of strength, confidence, empathy, and skill. Leaders who admit errors and take the necessary actions to correct them are the kinds of people we want and need in leadership positions. They create environments where people feel safe to make mistakes, report errors, be themselves, and strive to improve.

They tend to be very good people who treat others fairly.

I know a leader who made a terrible, thoughtless mistake that harmed an employee. Worried about his error and the possible ramifications of his mistake, he called his boss to report the error and ask for guidance.

But he never admitted fault or apologized to the employee. Never acknowledged the mistake to the person who was hurt by his decision. Pretended like it never happened.

I also happen to know that there were no possible legal repercussions for admitting his mistake. No one – including his boss  – was stopping him from saying he was sorry. He was just too weak, too pathetic, and too stupid to do so.

Of course, the employee (and I) quickly found out about all of this because nothing is ever as confidential as you think.

Naturally, this just made it worse.

This man was willing to acknowledge his mistake to his boss, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same with the victim of his terrible, thoughtless decision. He shouldn’t be in a leadership position. He lacks the character, moral clarity, and strength required to lead others successfully.

Saying “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong” or “I apologize for my error in judgment” should not be hard.

In fact, it’s not hard at all. Not for confident, skilled, effective leaders. Not for the kinds of people who we want leading our organizations.

We need more of these kinds of people in this world. A lot more.

Or perhaps just fewer of the weaseling, cowering, useless monsters who somehow seem to find their way to the top.

When can you be happy?

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.” – Jane Marczewski

A reader sent me this clip from America’s Got Talent back in 2021, not necessarily for the performance, but for the words of Jane Marczewski, who died from cancer in 2022 at the age of 32.

The reader kindly acknowledged that so much of what I say and do is embodied in Marczewski’s quote. But quite honestly, she said it better than I ever could. More importantly, any struggle that I’ve had in my life cannot come close to comparing to her struggle.

Marczewski’s song is beautiful, and her performance was masterful, but it’s her words that I will remember best.

She’s right.

So often in life, happiness is a choice. We can choose to focus on the struggle or focus on the blessings. It’s not always easy, and depending on the circumstances. it’s sometimes admittedly impossible. But for many of us, a shift in mindset and perspective can result in real, long-term happiness.

Somehow, despite her struggle, Jane Marczewski found a way to focus on the blessings of life. As a result, she seemed like a much happier person than many people who deal with a tiny fraction of her struggle.

When it comes to happiness, it often has less to do with the specifics of a person’s life and more about their mindset. We either focus on the positive or obsess over the negative.

Jane Marczewski seemed to have understood this better than most.

Pretty extraordinary.

Rest in peace, Jane.

It’s just a restroom

We stopped at a gas station on the way to Gillette Stadium last Sunday. While my buddy put gas in his truck, I went inside to use the restrooms and encountered two oddities.

First, the restrooms are apparently not restrooms at the Seasons Corner Markets.

They are Guestrooms.

Except, of course, they are not. A guestroom is a bedroom for a person who is staying over at someone’s home overnight. These supposed guestrooms are simply restrooms. Nothing more.

No bed. No dresser. No list of directions for stripping the bed and putting on new sheets when your stay is complete.

Just toilets, a sink, and a hand dryer.

This attempted re-naming of a restroom violates one of my core philosophies in life:

“Not every thing needs to be a thing.”

A restroom can just be a restroom. We have no need to change the name or imply that it’s more important than it really is.

Similar examples of “Not every thing needs to be a thing” include:

Gender reveal partiesPromposalsThe photographing and posting of images of the meal you didn’t actually make on social mediaWedding invitations that weigh more than an adult chihuahuaBringing your chihuahua to the wedding (this happened at my wedding)

Not only was this guestroom nothing more than a restroom, but it was failing in that regard, too. The one urinal in this supposed guestroom was out of order, which can happen, of course. But in order to land this message, the proprietor of the establishment decided that wrapping the toilet entirely in plastic, strapping it down with tape, and affixing an “Out of Service” sign wasn’t enough to make it clear that the urinal should not be used.

No, in addition to all of that paraphernalia, traffic cones were also needed.

Not one but two. Two large traffic cones.

This is what’s known as “Putting a hat on a hat” which I also despise.

Actually, this might amount to putting a hat on a hat on a hat.

In all things, say it once, the best way possible, and move on.

Why we collect our memories

On Thanksgiving morning, I was writing about giving thanks, and I found myself wondering about what I had been thankful for in previous years. So I looked back on Thanksgivings from the past to see what I had written.

When you write and publish a post every single day for more than 19 years, you have content to sort through.

I found several posts from previous Thanksgivings.

Some were lists of things for which I had been (and still was) thankful. One post expressed gratitude for my agent, Taryn. I wrote about being thankful for possibility and being annoyed with Whole Food for being too pretentious to sell Diet Coke. I wrote about being thankful for wellness and life in the midst of the pandemic.

Then I found a post from November 24, 2011, that described a predawn encounter with a skunk on my front lawn. As my dog, Kaleigh, and I emerged from the house, I found myself face to face with an enormous skunk and a terrible smell. Moments before, the skunk had apparently sprayed something on the front lawn, so the air was thick with its scent, and the skunk looked alert and angry.

We stared at each other for a while – man and dog and skunk – before the skunk casually trotted off, leaving me with my first bit of thanks on that Thanksgiving Day.

Here’s the thing:

I had completely forgotten about that encounter with the skunk, but upon reading the post, it all came back to me instantaneously. For a moment, I was standing on my stoop again, Kaleigh at my side, staring down an outraged skunk in a sort of three-species Mexican standoff.

And with all of that, I was given the chance to spend some time awash in the memory of a best friend who passed away years ago. For a few moments, Kaleigh was with me again, standing by my side, as she has once done for nearly 18 years.

What a blessing it was and still is.

Then I found a 2009 post that strongly recommended an essay about football, excerpted from Chuck Closterman’s then-new book, “Eating the Dinosaur.” I had no recollection of the piece, so I clicked the link, found the essay, and read.

It’s excellent. I can’t recommend it enough.

Did you see what happened there? The 2009 version of me recommended that the 2022 version of me read something that my former self particularly enjoyed. It was as if the 2009 version of me sent a message to the future, alerting me to something that would give me delight in the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning 13 years later.

Remarkable. Right?

This is why I write and tell stories about my life. It’s why I create a tangible, lasting record of my days.

It’s why you should, too.

If we march through our days, making no attempt to hold onto the things that matter, we toss away those things to the ash heap of forgotten memories. We treat these precious moments like they are meaningless and disposable, and in doing so, we reduce the scope and depth of our lives. We look back on our lives and see far less than we deserve to see.

Both of these blog posts were written before I began Homework for Life. They are precursors to a method that is far more effective for me today.

Also far more effective for the thousands of people around the world who engage in Homework for Life alongside me.

It doesn’t take much to hold onto a memory. It requires very little of you in terms of time and energy to write down a few sentences about your day. It may seem tedious and meaningless at the moment, but when you have the chance to look back and rediscover the past, spend time awash in memory, and feel the completeness of a life lived, you will be indescribably thankful to your past self for the work they did.

The ideal Thanksgiving Day meal time

I enjoyed a lovely and perfect Thanksgiving this year.

In the company of some of our friends and family, we shared food, conversation, and football. We chatted about our work and our children. We laughed at stories told from a year gone by.

Elysha’s dinner was delicious.

Other than the Patriots losing to the Vikings, it was truly a perfect day.

This post is not meant to impugn the perfection of the day in any way, but the only thing that could’ve made the day better was a change in start time. Though I often stand alone in this belief, I think that noon is the ideal time for the Thanksgiving Day meal.

A noontime meal provides these key benefits:

1. The meal does not interfere in any way with football. The first game of the day kicks off just as you finish eating.

2. The fabled late-day turkey sandwich is now a possibility and a necessity. Make the right bread and cheeses available, and that late-day sandwich can sometimes be better than the meal itself.

3. Desserts can be eaten much later in the day, long after the meal has been better digested. There’s nothing better than eating pie three hours after the meal as the first football game ends.

4. It eliminates the need for the awkward pre-Thanksgiving Day meal. Rather than eating a lunch that doesn’t consist of turkey or ham or skipping lunch entirely in order to save room, make the Thanksgiving meal the breakfast, lunch, and dinner of the day.

5. It affords a drinker who has enjoyed one too many glasses of wine during the meal the time needed to sober up.

6. Best of all, it transforms Thanksgiving into an all-day affair, which is what it should be.

I realize that the noontime meal is a rarity. Other than the times I hosted the holiday many years ago, I have never experienced one myself, but I would argue that the closer your meal is to noon, the better.

J. Bryan Lowder of Slate suggests that the perfect time for a Thanksgiving dinner is 8:00 PM, claiming that:

“…the harsh winter light streaming violently through the windows casts an unappealing pall across the meal. Candles cannot hope to compete with the sun, so everyone looks and feels washed out and, as a result, prone to petty palpitations and the flaring up of old resentments.”

Apparently, Lowder dines in some horrible, post-apocalyptic world, so if this is the case for you and the appearance of the food and your guests is critical to the success of the holiday, perhaps an evening meal is a good idea.

But for those like me who live in a world where winter light doesn’t violently stream, candles burn with a fairly consistent flame, and my friends look good in almost any light, the noontime meal might be something to consider.

There is one drawback to the noontime meal:

The need to rise before the sun to begin preparations.

While it is true that you may need to begin cooking the turkey as early as 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, once the bird is in the oven, you can return to bed for a few hours and awaken to a house that already smells of Thanksgiving.

Not bad. Right?

I don’t know Mr. Lowder at all, and I’ve never read any of his work, but I don’t think I would enjoy dining with him anyway. The claim that “everyone knows that dinner—especially a dinner party—is served at the hallowed hour of 8:00 PM” is enough to make me think he’s at least a pretentious snob and possibly worse.

This may not be a fair assessment at all, of course, but all I have to judge is about 700 words.

Lowder’s only concession to his evening start time is the admission that it’s inconvenient for anyone who has traveled from more than two hours away. But he also asserts that these people should probably be staying the night anyway.

Knowing nothing about this guy, I have to assume that he’s about 25 years old, lives in Brooklyn, and enjoys Thanksgiving with six other hipster friends in an apartment somewhere in Williamsburg. Lowder has no idea what “staying the night” means for a family with small children or a host whose home isn’t blessed with a guest room or two or even an elderly grandparent.

I know it’s hard to think beyond your own two-foot radius at times, but c’mon, man.

Unless your Thanksgiving excludes small children, anyone over the age of 65, and anyone traveling more than 30 minutes from their home, an 8:00 mealtime is simply insane.

I don’t even think a regular dinner party should begin at 8:00. But then again, I’ve never been very interested in what “everyone knows.”

But what I know is this:

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and the longer I can make it, the better. Serving dinner at noon stretches the day out considerably, and for that reason, I think it’s at least worth your consideration.