Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 130

Casually suing the President

Elysha and I were discussing the recent ruling by a federal judge that Donald Trump “more likely than not” committed felony obstruction in attempting the block the certification of the 2020 election results.

This ruling allows Congress to gain access to emails by John Eastman, a lawyer for Trump and the chief designer of the plan to steal the election from the American people.

Clara and Charlie listened attentively to the conversation, then Clara said, “Is Trump ever going to be punished for any of this? I mean, Dad sued Trump and won, but even that wasn’t much of a punishment.”

Talk about surreal.

Back in 2017, after being blocked by Trump on Twitter for tweeting mean things at him, I joined about two dozen other Americans in the Knight Foundation’s lawsuit against the former President to have our Twitter accounts unblocked. Trump and his press secretary had stated on many occasions that his Twitter feed amounted to his official statements, thereby making it something that all Americans should have access to.

On August 29, 2008, we won that lawsuit in federal court. Trump appealed to the Supreme Court, where he also lost.

Less than a week later, my Twitter account was unblocked.

Clara is right. Not much of a punishment, but a great victory for me.

Four years later, sitting at the dinner table, Clara mentioned my part in a successful lawsuit against a United States President as casually as she might ask for someone to pass the salt. I was the member of a lawsuit against the President that went all the way to the Supreme Court, but to Clara, it’s just another thing that her dad once did.

So odd.

But my hope is that her casualness about the lawsuit is an indication that she understands how important it is to challenge authority, speak truth to power, and stand against those you oppose whenever possible, despite their position or station in life.

My hope is that she sees opposition like mine as a normal part of life when the actions of those in power require it.

My hope is that she takes similar stands in life when called upon. I suspect she will.

Either that or she thinks her father is a crazy person, which is also entirely possible.

8 thoughts on Will Smith’s act of violence

There’s so much to say about Will Smith’s physical assault of Chris Rock at the Oscars on Sunday night.

Much of it has already been said.

I’ll simply add this handful of thoughts to the conversation:

My students came into school talking about the incident on Monday morning, which means that they watched an exceptionally famous actor and rapper choose violence in response to an insult. I teach my kids to avoid this type of response to unkind words every damn day. I don’t need Will Smith demonstrating the very behavior that I condemn as a teacher and a human being on national television.When you hit a human being like Will Smith did on Monday night, you risk causing serious injury. If Chris Rock falls and strikes his head on the stage, his life might be changed forever. I tell this to my students all the damn time, too.Hitting a person who doesn’t know it’s coming is typically considered the act of a coward.There’s few things more toxically masculine than a man feeling like he needs to defend the honor of his wife with violence. I’m confident that Jada Pinkett Smith could have responded to Chris Rock’s joke on her own without her husband’s violent response. Women don’t require men to defend them from unkind words, particularly when the chosen defense is violence. They are fully capable of putting jackasses in their place on their own. If someone had insulted Elysha and I had responded by striking the person, Elysha would be angry at me beyond measure, and rightfully so.Chris Rock made a callous, thoughtless joke. This happens when comedians do their jobs. They walk up to and sometimes past the line. They upset and offend. They go too far. The Oscars are famous for hosts taking jabs at the wealthiest and most powerful people on the planet. The White House Correspondence Dinner, which Donald Trump famously skipped because he, too, can’t handle being publicly insulted, is similar. Many, many Hollywood elites have been insulted by Oscar hosts as a part of the show. Rock was doing his job. Not well in that moment, perhaps, but that was no reason to assault him.Chris Rock’s joke may have been in poor taste, but his actions following the slap were astoundingly professional. He stayed calm, immediately made a joke, then he made another joke, then he dealt with a still shouting Will Smith, then he moved on to present the award for the winner of the best documentary without missing a beat. His joke may have been in poor taste, but everything he has done since that joke has been outstanding.When I saw this, my first thought was, “This is why airline personnel are being assaulted. People think that they can respond to discomfort with violence. It’s no different.” Will Smith was no better than some fool causing an airplane to turn around mid-flight because their mask is uncomfortable or the flight attendants won’t serve them a third beer.Smith should’ve apologize to the person he hit during his acceptance speech. Apologizing to the Academy but not to his victim was small and stupid. He apologized to Chris Rock the next day on Instagram, which seems about right for a person who hits a defenseless person on national television.

 

George Weasley’s positivity on display

George Weasley from the Harry Potter series had his ear blasted off by a curse from a Death Eater, leaving a hole behind where the ear had once been.

Less than an hour later, he was making jokes about it.

He described himself as feeling “saintlike.”

When pressed upon by his brother, Fred, over what he meant, George revealed it was a pun on the lack of an ear, meaning he was now “holey.”

Some may accuse him of toxic positivity – a ridiculous concept – but he is my new hero.

 

Ending LGBTQ bigotry might start here.

I’d like to go out on a limb by saying that the first, best way to end the bigotry, ignorance, and hatred directed against the LGBTQ community would be for certain organized religions and their leaders to stop teaching and condoning the intolerance, marginalization, and hatred of the LGBTQ community through their teaching, primary source documents, and explicit doctrine.

Religion certainly isn’t the only place where this kind of hatred and bigotry originates, of course. Intolerance and hate have many sources. But if you grow up in a religion that stands opposed to same sex relationships, transgender rights, the concept of gender fluidity, and basic human decency, it’s probably going to have an influence on you or the people around you.

Right?

When you tell your congregants that my gay friends will burn in hell for loving people of the same sex, or you refuse to allow gay or lesbian people to marry within the confines of your church, or you condemn their sexuality based upon a book that also orders you to murder anyone who dares to work on Sunday, you’re probably contributing to the problem in a significant way.

And I’m not just referring to the bigoted religious leaders standing before their congregations, but also the congregants who allow their spiritual leaders to spew their ignorance and hate unchecked.

If you wouldn’t work for an employer that made policy based upon bigotry, you might want to reconsider your choice of religion if it, too, bases its policies in bigotry. If you wouldn’t vote for an openly bigoted politician, you might want to start tithing somewhere else, too. If you don’t accept bigotry as a part of your everyday life, maybe stop accepting it as a part of your religious life.

If you wouldn’t do business with an openly bigoted company, you probably shouldn’t do business with any part of that company. Right? Claiming that your particular franchise is ignoring their company’s foundation of bigotry fails to acknowledge that your support for your possibly more tolerant franchise still ultimately supports the foundation upon which the entire company is based.

Saying, “Yes, the church is bigoted, but my preacher is not” still supports the church and its bigotry.

Doctrine is doctrine.

If certain religions stopped being intolerant, hateful, and unquestionably evil about their treatment of members of the LGBTQ community, things might improve considerably for my gay and transgender friends.

That would be good.

Things might also improve considerably for the congregants who are taught to hate certain human beings based upon their gender and sexuality. Nothing good comes of hate. Nothing good comes from senseless, bigoted intolerance.

Again, I’m out on a limb here, so forgive me if these ideas seem outlandish or unrealistic.

Former students

Jim Krueger, former fifth grade student, recently produced a six part podcast series called The Road that Killed a City, about interstate 84 and Hartford, Connecticut.

I listened last week, and it’s fantastic. I learned so much.

Jim’s sister, Emma, also a former student, lives in Hanoi, Vietnam, and recently attended my virtual book talk at my local library. She works in marketing – the same field that I oddly spend much of my time these days.

My former student, Kayla, is now my colleague, working as a teaching assistant at my school. Two weeks ago, she took over my class when I needed to attend a meeting. Quite surreal.

Last Saturday night she told a story for Speak Up.

Her brother, Nathan, also a former student, has also told a story for Speak Up. I’ve also told a story about Nathan at The Moth and Speak Up.

Jordyn, a former student turned friend, attended a Moth StorySLAM with me in Boston in the fall. Now she is attending college. She recently told me that my stories are being used at her school in their communications classes.

Another former student is producing and hosting a podcast on finance and has recently partnered with a large media network to produce a project still under wraps.

Another is spending the day in my class next week as she works toward becoming a teacher.

Another has hired me to consult with her company.

One of my former students, who helped to take care of my children when they were young and whose wedding I officiated two years ago – is now pregnant with her first child.

My kids may be old enough to babysit her kids someday.

The list is endless.

So many things have surprised me over the course of my teaching career, but none as much as watching children who I once knew as eight, nine, and ten year old kids grow up into young adults who occasionally, continually, surprisingly intersect with my life in surprising, fascinating, delightful ways.  It saddens me beyond measure when my students exit my life at the end of every school year, but it thrills me when they reappear just a few years later, ready to share their latest adventure with me.  It’s been a truly unexpected bonus of my two dozen years in the classroom.

Chester. Not Cheshire.

Last weekend Elysha said she wanted to go to Cheshire for pizza, ice cream, and a visit to a bookstore.

When we arrived in Cheshire, about 45 minutes later, I asked her where she wanted to stop for pizza.“Otto’s Pizza,” she said.Otto Pizza is in Chester, CT. Not Cheshire, CT.She was understandably upset.When we arrived in Chester, CT about 45 minutes later, she suggested we hit the bookstore first.“Okay,” I said. “Where?”“You know…” she said and proceeded to describe the store. But the bookstore that she had described is located in Bethel, CT, about 90 minutes west of Chester, CT.There is, in fact, no bookstore in Chester, CT.I sometimes think Elysha married me solely for my navigations skills, and that if GPS had existed back in 2004 (when we were engaged) as it exists today, it might’ve been touch-and-go in terms of getting her to say yes to my proposal.Either way, it was an interesting day. A memorable day.Good thing gas prices are so low right now.For the record, Otto Pizza in Chester is the best pizza I’ve ever eaten. Blasphemy from someone who lives so close to New Haven, CT, I know, but it’s true. The ice cream down the street at Honeycone is fantastic, too.Well worth the drive, especially if you don’t need to travel to Cheshire first.

Wikipedia in your pocket

Russia’s censorship agency is considering blocking Wikipedia, specifically because of its Russian-language article about the invasion of Ukraine that tells a different story than the one currently being offered by the government.

That has led to Russians downloading the entirety of Wikipedia in record numbers.

Right now, anyone can download Wikipedia in any language. In English, it consists of 6.4 million-articles (including one about me) requiring 87 gigabytes with pictures and 47 gigabytes without.

I found this astounding.

Yes, 87 gigabytes is a lot of memory, but I own flash drives capable of storing 2 terabytes, or 2,000 gigabytes, of data that cost less than $100.

I can own a significant amount of all of human history – at least known so far – in an object smaller than my thumb.

As a child, my family owned less than half a set of Funk & Wagnall’s encyclopedias – A through J only – that occupied more than three feet of shelf space and didn’t include an entry about me.

We’ve come an astonishingly long way in a relatively short period of time.

 

The cheetah and, unexpectedly, my mother

The tragedy of the cheetah is that it doesn’t even know that it’s the fastest land animal.

It’s champion of the world, yet it has no way of knowing it.

I hate that. It’s odd, but I really do.

It’s similar, at least in my mind, to Lincoln not living to see the end of the Civil War or Roosevelt not living to see the end of World War II.

It’s not unlike all the writers – Kafka, Plath, Thoreau, Dickinson, Poe, Hurston, Melville, and so many more – who never knew fame or even recognition while alive.

Not unlike artists like Van Gogh and Monet, scientists like Galileo and Mendel, and musicians like Bach and Redding, whose names were unknown to the world during their lifetimes but are giants of their craft today.

It’s also not unlike my mother, who died before meeting my children, reading any of my books, or ever seeing me perform onstage.

That last one just occurred to me. I knew that my mother had died before ever seeing any of these things, but I hadn’t connected her death to my thoughts on the cheetah until just now.

Except it probably didn’t just occur to me. It was probably the reason why I lamented the plight of the cheetah in the first place. Our first thoughts – those that hover on the surface of our mind – are quite often our least important thoughts. They are the thoughts that conceal the truth so well.

Revelations like this – the inability of the cheetah to know its greatness is akin to my mother never seeing what became of her son – happen so many times for those of us fortunate enough to write and speak and tell stories about our lives on a daily basis. The reasons we do anything are often not the reasons we think we are doing anything. It’s only through the thought, contemplation, puzzling, and connections made while writing and speaking that we are able to plumb the depths of our lives and see our true selves.

I started writing this a few minutes ago, thinking I’d write something amusing about the cheetah and move on.

Then I realized that the cheetah’s plight is not unlike the plights of so many others – artists, writers, scientists, and more.

Then I realized that I had been drawn to the cheetah’s plight because of the heartache I constantly feel about my mother.

This is why I write. We write to discover what I’m really thinking and feeling.

It’s why you should write, too.

Doctor’s appointment

I had my annual physical last week, with a new doctor for the first time in a long time.

My previous doctor – and coincidentally Elysha’s doctor as well – retired last year, so after more than two decades with the same doctor, I had to find myself a new one.

I had no idea how stressful this process would be. After placing my health and wellbeing in the hands of a person for nearly half of my life, I had to replace her with someone new.

I’m thrilled to report that I’ve made an outstanding choice. I could not be happier with my new doctor.

I’d actually seen her twice prior to my physical – once before my surgery for a pre-op check, and once about a year ago for something minor, which is when I decided to give her a try as my primary care physician. She seemed competent enough dealing with my minor ailment to at least give her a shot.

So we’d already spent some time talking about my medical history, but last week was the first time she was conducting a full physical on me.

She made quite the impression.

Granted, she had some good news for me. My cholesterol remains excellent and continues to drop after being slightly elevated a few years ago. A switch to oatmeal nearly every day for lunch, in addition to my already daily exercise routine, did the trick.

But rather than simply reporting on this good news, she said things like, “I’m so proud of you” and “It’s not easy to get your cholesterol down so quickly and so consistently” and “Good job!”

And she meant it. She said these words with enthusiasm and a smile, even though I couldn’t see the smile behind her mask. But I could hear the smile in the upbeat, almost excited way that she spoke. She was thrilled for me. Genuinely happy to see my progress, even though it had begun years before I had ever met her.

She also took a moment to check my blood pressure after the nurse had already checked it upon arrival. I asked her for the reason behind this second check. She explained that my blood pressure  was high when the nurse took it, but now that I was relaxed, she wanted to check it again. On the recheck, it was normal, which was also great, since I have been eliminating salt from parts of my diet based upon her suggestion during our pre-op check.

“Great job,” she said. “You got your blood pressure down, too. Really impressive.”

In addition to exercise and fiber, she recommended that I add more omega-3 to my diet to improve my cholesterol even more.

“But my cholesterol is good now,” I said. “Right?”

“Yes,” she said. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

I liked this, too. She wasn’t just checking off boxes. My cholesterol is fine now. She could’ve moved on, but instead, she chose to see me as someone who could do even better.

When I asked what I could eat to get omega-3, she recommended avocado.

I told her that avocados are disgusting. They also use an unconscionable amount of water to grow.

“Almonds?” she said.

“Even worse for the environment. Even more water to grow.”

“Walnuts?”

“Ew,” I said. “My mother used to buy maple walnut ice cream as a kid. Of all the flavors of ice cream in the world, my mom found the one ice cream flavor that was disgusting.”

“Flaxseed?”

I told her I didn’t know what flaxseed was, but it was clearly named by someone who didn’t want people to think it tasted good.

We finally settled on fish, which I like if it swims and doesn’t crawl, and occasional fish oil supplements, which are fine, too. I don’t take any medications whatsoever and am trying to keep it that way, but a supplement at dinner time is better than earth-killing avocados or almonds, and a hell of a lot better than walnuts.

Admittedly, I eat cheeseburgers, which are also terrible for the world for so many reasons, but at least they’re delicious.

All of this put my mind at ease and made me feel like my doctor was a person who was willing to spend time with me as a human being. We laughed. She cajoled. She offered positive feedback. She explained the things she was doing with great clarity and simplicity. When she told me that I needed a shingles vaccine, she said, “I know you don’t do well with needles, but you’d do a lot worse with shingles.”

Perfect. Acknowledge the fear. Explain the importance of facing it.

When I told her that my thigh was still numb almost five months after my surgery, she explained why. My surgeon and the doctors who conducted my post-op appointments explained that the numbness may be the result of the positioning of my leg during surgery, but I never understood what this meant.

Positioning of my leg? How can that make a leg go numb for months?

She explained – without me having to ask – that the position of my leg or back probably reduced or cut off the flow of blood to a nerve or nerves, creating the problem, but that it typically takes care of itself over time. She told me that my exercise regime, finally renewed following surgery, would likely help, too. “Increased blood flow to that region with every pedal of your bike.”

No one had ever explained it like this before. No one ever mentioned blood flow to a nerve. Finally, it made some sense.

Most important, I didn’t feel rushed in any way. She made eye contact with me, not once speaking to me while staring at her computer screen or clipboard. When I listed my concerns, which included:

Should I get another COVID-19 booster?Can I over-boost myself?What about the leg that I still can’t feel?How do my ears look?Am I due for another pneumonia vaccine?Will I really need it again?

… she followed up every answer with, “What else?” She made it clear that she wanted to hear all of my concerns and was willing to give me the time needed to explain each one.

For more than 20 years, I had an excellent primary care physician who I adored. She knew me well. When Elysha and I first started dating and discovered that she shared the same doctor, it was surprising, but it also felt like it was meant to be. Our doctor even attended our Speak Up events from time to time.

I’ve also seen many other doctors over the years, for specific needs and when my primary care physician was unavailable.

All took good care of me. Made me better.

Few have communicated as effectively as my new doctor did during my physical.

We want our doctors to be knowledgable and skilled. We rely on their expertise and wisdom. We want them to be well trained and thoughtful.

But we also want to feel special in their presence. In that examination room, we want to feel like we are the only thing that matters. We want to connect with them in a meaningful way and feel safe in their hands. We want to feel important and heard. We want the stress and anxiety of the doctor’s office to be mitigated by a person who knows how to explain, converse, encourage, and even laugh.

My new doctor accomplished all of those things last week. I left that physical feeling like my doctor knew me. Believed in me. Wanted me to be well.

As a person who spends so much of his time teaching communication strategies to professionals, professors, performers, attorneys, the clergy, and doctors, it is uncommon to find someone who is willing to be so authentic and effective in a professional setting. I spend a great deal of time trying to get people to understand the importance of asking questions, sharing a bit of yourself, listening effectively, being present, leaning into humor whenever possible, telling stories, and making these professional encounters a little less formal.

No one enters a doctor’s office hoping for stoicism and solemnity. We don’t want our doctors to simply complete their assigned tasks and move on to the next patient. We’re never hoping that our medical professional is methodical, business-like, and nothing more. We want our doctors to be experts in their particular field who also take the time to establish an authentic relationship with us. We want to believe that if our doctor was seated to our left at a dinner party, we would probably have a great time.

I felt exactly that way when I left the office. I felt like I had a very knowledgable and supportive friend looking after my health.

I feel very lucky.

My arm is also still sore almost a week after the shingles shot. It was no joke.

It starts with a story…

This message works well for so many reasons, but one of the primary reasons is that it opens with a story. The story is a little more than  two minutes long, and it continues to be referenced throughout the video.

What does the story do?

It connects Schwarzenegger with his audience through authenticity, humility, and vulnerability. It humanizes Schwarzenegger. Gives his audience reason to like him. Primes them for his message.

It also provides grounding for the rest of the message. It’s the foundation upon which everything Schwarzenegger says is built. It introduces us to the primary characters of the talk – Schwarzenegger, his father, and Yuri Petrovich Vlasov. It establishes his respect and appreciation for his intended audience.

It’s a specific, tangible example that is brought back again and again, making the talk sound rounded, complex, and complete rather than a simple, connected series of ideas.

Schwarzenegger delivers it beautifully. There are moments, like the lifting of the tea cup, that are deeply human and gentle. He expresses anger and outrage, but it is measured and controlled. He speaks of personal sadness, but it’s not self serving but rather delivered with poignancy and purpose. His acknowledgment of the insurrection at the US Capitol is humbling and strategic. The video footage, integrated throughout the message, is well placed and well chosen.

But it’s the story that makes it all work. It’s the story that engages the audience. Keeps the audience watching and listening. It’s the story that transforms this message. It’s not from Arnold Schwarzenegger, former Governor of California and star of the silver screen – but from Arnold Schwarzenegger, longtime friend and admirer of the  Russian people.

It’s incredibly well done. I hope it makes a difference.