Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 134

Why do bad things happen?

Have you ever noticed that people who say “God only gives you what you can handle” aren’t watching their children starve to death in Somalia?

Nor are they imprisoned in Chinese labor camps.

Nor have they been kidnapped by human traffickers.

“God only gives you what you can handle” are words spoken only by people who have enough food, medical care, and freedom to speak those words. These words are the salve for those who see terrible things happening all over the world but are unwilling to lift a finger in response. They are the balm for those who wish to vacation regularly in Fiji while ignoring the abject poverty just beyond the gates of the resort.

“God only gives those impoverished people what they can handle. Also, rest assured that God has a plan and a reason for babies dying from cancer, and those babies can handle it.”

This kind of thinking has always incensed me.

Happily, a new Pew Research Center survey offers hope. 86 percent of respondents said “sometimes bad things just happen” explains why suffering exists very or somewhat well.

Not God. Not some Almighty plan. Just the unfortunate random happenstance of life.

71 percent of respondents also said that suffering was mostly a consequence of people’s own actions, which certainly isn’t always the case but is also true quite often.

Just look at the thousands of unvaccinated Americans dying of COVID-19 every day.

69 percent of respondents said suffering is the result of the way society is structured, which is also true.

Systemic racism is a perfect example of this. Also the Electoral College and shoot outs in soccer and hockey.

Just play the damn game until someone scores.

And 62 percent said it’s an opportunity for people to come out stronger, which is also true. Not always, of course. The starving children in Somalia, the Chinese imprisoned in labor camps, and the entire population of North Korea are unlikely to find an opportunity to demonstrate their newfound strength, but yes, adversity often sharpens us considerably.

I was so happy to see polling numbers that seem to indicate that Americans are far more rational than I thought.

At least in this case.

In the age of Q’Anon, the MAGA movement, and anti-vaxxers, it’s sometimes hard to remember that a very loud, very stupid, and very destructive minority of fools do not represent the majority of fair minded, even keeled Americans.

Hooray. At least for today.

Not the surprise I was hoping for…

Eleven years ago, I began a search that culminated in disaster last week.

Elysha graduated from Smith College back in 1997. She adored her college experience, speaks of it often, and looks forward to reunions and visits to her alma mater.

Having attended college five years after high school while  managing a McDonald’s restaurant full time, I have always been jealous of Elysha’s experience at Smith. College is very different when you’re balancing a restaurant P&L statement with an essay on Virginia Wolff.

When Elysha left Smith, she took several piece of Smith’s china with her:

Two salad plates. Two saucers. Two bowls.

By “take,” I mean she stole these pieces. She loves this china. The pieces remind her of the meals she enjoyed in Comstock with her friends, many of whom remain dear to her today.

Eleven years ago, while washing one of those bowls, Elysha said, “I wish I had a full set of this china.”

So launched my mission.

I began by contacting Smith College to see if they were still using the same china, and if so, could I purchase a set or be directed to where a set could be bought?

No luck.

They had moved on from Elysha’s beloved set and could not help me.

Next I identified the set and manufacturer from the markings on the bowls and plates (Maytime) and contacted them to see if I could purchase a set directly.

The company was no longer making the set.

So began my search of the internet for a complete set. I quickly discovered that complete sets exist, but as far as I can tell, only two complete sets are currently listed anywhere on the internet, and after some inquiries, I determined that neither was for sale. They had been previously sold at various auction sites, but none were available for purchase.

Next I set up Google Alert on all the words associated with Smith College and this particular brand and make of china, so that if a set or parts of a set ever became available, I would know immediately. Then I called the manufacturer back, established a point of contact, and requested to be informed if the set ever went into production again.

For the past decade, I have chased down leads on partial sets, complete sets, and individual pieces. I’ve called the manufacturer regularly to check on the status of the set, and I told friends about my search in hopes that they might have other ideas on how to locate a set.

Eleven years after I first began my search, in late October of 2021, I received a call from my contact at the manufacturer:

They were producing the set once again. It’s actually being branded as “Maytime for Smithies.”

I was promised one of the first sets.

I was ecstatic. On my list of long term surprises for Elysha, this was near the top.

A complete set of dinner plates, salad plates, bowls, cups, and saucers arrived at my home just prior to Christmas. Already having a Christmas surprise for Elysha, I decided to hold off until Valentine’s Day to surprise her with her Smithie china.

I couldn’t wait.

My plan was to cook dinner on Valentine’s Day and serve it on the china. Set the whole table with everything I had. I told my students about the plan, and one of them recommended that I purchase heart shaped placemats as well.

Exactly one week before Valentine’s Day, I was on a Zoom call with two clients, preparing for a speech at an upcoming company gathering in New York. One of the clients, Masha, has also become a good friend over the last year we’ve spent working together. We know each other well. She knows Elysha, too.

As we were wrapping up the call, Masha asked me what I had planned for Valentine’s Day. I leaned my head out of my office and shouted, “Honey are you home yet?”

No response, so I proceeded to tell Masha and her colleague about my plan. Just as I had revealed the surprise to them, I heard Elysha. She was standing in the adjacent room.

I couldn’t believe it.

“Did you hear that?” I shouted, holding my breath, hoping for “Heard what?”

Instead, I heard a resigned, “Yes.”

Seven days from the finish line of a journey that began more than 4,000 days ago, I had ruined the surprise with my big mouth.

I was so upset. I still am. I suspect I always will be.

Elysha is also upset. She’s upset with herself for not lying to me. She wishes that she had pretended not to hear. She wished she could’ve preserved the surprise for me.

But amidst the disappointment of the moment, and my ongoing disappointment, the one good thing in all of this was that Elysha didn’t lie to me. Her instinct wasn’t to fabricate some untruth in order to make me feel better and preserve the surprise for me.

Besides, the surprise wasn’t for me. It was for her.

The fact that she didn’t lie – didn’t even think about lying – makes me happy. It says a lot about her and even more about us.

Elysha is still touched by the gift and the effort and persistence required to make it happen, but I remain deeply disappointed. I think I always will. I was thrilled to give her this gift, more than a decade in the making – but the final flourish would’ve been so lovely. Instead, I never even got to see her face when she discovered the surprise.

She was standing in the other room, invisible to me.

I still can’t believe it.

 

 

Happy birthday to me, Mom.

It’s my birthday today, and it’s sure to be wonderful.

A morning spent with Elysha and the kids before I head off to school to spend the day with two dozen children who I almost always adore.

Then home for ice cream cake and presents.

I’m even picking up my new car today. It took a while for the car to be transported from Cleveland to Connecticut, then title snafus made the process even longer. Today I finally drive it home.

It will be a good, happy day.

But I start this morning off – while the house is still quiet and the sun has not yet risen – thinking about my mother.

Perhaps it’s just me, but there is a real difference between celebrating your birth while your mother is still alive and celebrating it after she has passed away.

Mom died back in January of 2007. Seemingly a lifetime ago. I can’t believe it’s been so long.

More than 50 years ago, my mother and I began a journey together. Far too early, she has stepped off the path, leaving me to finish our journey alone.

Not that I plan on finishing the journey, of course. I plan on living forever. Blood pressure and cholesterol are excellent. My recent cardiac calcium score was a zero, which is remarkable. I survived COVID last month. Surgery two months before. My heart has stopped beating and I have stopped breathing twice in my life, yet I am still here thanks to trained paramedics and stubbornness.

I’ve never even bruised.

Unless a bus flattens me or aliens vaporize me, I’ll be here until the sun explodes. But still, you know what I mean.

Mom and I started this thing together, but now she is gone.

There was something about having my mother alive and well on my birthday that always made it feel like a celebration of our day. The day she and I met for the first time. Something only the two of us could share.

One of the most important days in both of our lives, started together, shared together, and celebrated together.

Now it’s only my day. I can celebrate today with family and friends, of course, but no one is left to remember and celebrate that specific day in February of 1971 when I first laid eyes on this world.

I can look online and see that the weather in Rhode Island that day was clear and cold. Temperatures hovered around freezing.

It was Presidents’ Day.

Across the Atlantic, it was known as Decimalization Day. After more than 1,200 years, the United Kingdom and Ireland both abandoned the pence and shilling system and switched to decimal currency

The front page of the New York Times featured a story about a US Air Force plane accidentally bombing “a friendly unit” near the United States-supported base at Long Tieng in Laos.

The Celtics and Bruins won.

“One Bad Apple” by The Osmonds was topping the billboard charts.

Renee O’Connor, who would someday become television’s Xena Warrior Princess, was born in Katy, Texas.

None of this matters a bit to me. Facts are plentiful, but it’s nuance I crave. Stories about that day. Intimate details that only a mother could know.

Now she is gone, making birthdays feel a little more empty and a little less worthy of celebration, especially in these predawn hours as I sit here alone.

Happily, I’ve got Elysha, Clara, and Charlie to push away those dark clouds and fill  my day with happiness and celebration, which they will undoubtedly do with beautiful smiles, lots of laughter, and gobs of love.

They’ll be awake soon. I can’t wait to see them. Every morning, I sit in the quiet, waiting for the sun to rise, anxious to hear the pattering of feet above me.

Today more than ever.

I’m so very lucky to be me today. I like to think that Mom would agree.

Ted Lasso: Season 2 recap

Thoughts from season 2 of Ted Lasso, as requested by many.

Spoilers ahead if you haven’t watched:
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I’m disappointed to see the show turning to more traditional sitcom scenarios in season 2. It’s as if everything that made the show different and special in season 1 was no longer good enough to carry the show, so contrived, improbable sitcom moments like killing the dog with a soccer ball in episode 1 or the romance between Rebecca and Sam that started because they both just happen to be texting each other on a dating app without photos or names seem to be far more prevalent in this season of the show.

It wasn’t necessary.
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The way that the soccer team handles Secret Santa should be the way Secret Santa is done from now until the end of the time.

Brilliant.
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I have rarely laughed harder than I did during the Christmas episode. It was joyous. But let’s also be honest:

It was a soft, utterly stakes-less episode. Almost exclusively fluff. The biggest problem presented in the episode is a child’s bad breath, and the appearance of Santa, flying through the night sky at the end of the episode, was cute but not the kind of realism that I expect from the show.

Making an audience laugh is a precious and beautiful thing. Advancing the plot and offering up some real world stakes at the same time is even better and is what elevates stories to epic heights.
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I love Roy so much. I loved him in season 1, but I really love him in season 2. I’d be willing to watch a spin off featuring Roy talking about soccer on TV, and I hate soccer.

I find myself grunting “Oy!” whenever I can.
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Ted’s panic attacks were portrayed realistically and presented an interesting facet of a man who relies on positivity to conquer the world. I’ve never experienced a panic attack, but the cinematography behind their portrayal – both in sound and light – was brilliant. I got a real sense of what they might be like. But  the plot line surrounding them was also recursive and therefore a little boring.

Ted has a panic attack in season 1. Rebecca helps to calm him, then they never speak of it again.

Then Ted has another panic attack in season 2 during a game. He runs off the field and claims stomach issues. No one presses him.

Then Ted has another panic attack when he is alone, making him late for the funeral, but no one cares, and Ted’s lateness sort of saves the day for Rebecca by buoying her spirits at a critical moment.

The panic attacks had no real world implications for Ted. They dd not threaten his job or any relationship. They didn’t cause him to dramatically alter the way in which he approached the world. He eventually seeks therapy, but there is no final straw moment. No dramatic increase in stakes or real world implications.

The publicizing of Ted’s panic attack in the press had great potential in terms of developing an interesting story line, but no one really cared. Ted took it in stride and managed it well. Rebecca and the team supported him. The man on the street who refers to him as “Wanker” was kind. Even the reporter who broke the story supported him. It ended up being a nothingburger except for the revelation that Nate was the source of the story, which also turned out to be a nothingburger given that Nate was never confronted about it, either.

More on Nate in a moment.

I’m not complaining about Ted’s panic attacks. I’m arguing that the storyline surrounding them could’ve been much better.
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The actual funeral for Rebecca’s father – including the Rick Astley song – was fantastic. Every single bit of it.
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The intercutting between Ted’s revelation of his father’s suicide and Rebecca’s revelation of the discovery of her philandering father was terrible. It undermined each moment by not allowing them to stand on their own. These two moments were the emotional hinge points of the season and deserved to be handled independently. Also, the intercutting drew an equivalency between the two moments which did not feel right to me at all. Both are tragic, of course, but a father dying from suicide seems far more traumatic than a father cheating on a mother, I think.

Either way, it was not well done.
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The solo Beard episode was filled with tropes and cliches and was by far my least favorite of the series.

Moments of ridiculousness include:

Beard leaps off a rooftop – three or four stories up – into a dumpster in order to escape a fight with a large, angry man. No one does this. There’s no telling what is in that dumpster. The decision is stupid and completely out of character for someone as wise as Beard.

It’s stupid for anyone. It’s also been done in Tv and film many times before.

Also, the coincidental meeting between Beard and Jamie’s father in the strange, isolated alleyway was unrealistic, and then the last second appearance of the angry boyfriend, saving the day for Beard, was a moment as old as time.

Also, this man has been searching the streets all night to return Beard’s phone and wallet?

Ridiculous.

Even the moment in the apartment when we hear the angry boyfriend approaching and the girlfriend advises Beard to run is something I have seen many times before on the screen.

Too much trope and cliche for a Ted Lasso episode.
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I love Dr. Sharon Fieldstone. I think her character is written and portrayed brilliantly. I can’t quite understand how an entire sports facility doesn’t have extra office space for her, but she was an excellent addition to the show in season 2.
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Small point, but a real one:

There aren’t enough people to run a Premier League soccer team in the show. Rebecca doesn’t have a secretary or assistant? No office staff are ever shown walking the halls? No logistical staff for away games? No custodians or facility manager or team doctor?

I’m not saying these characters need to have lines or even personalities, but the place looks absolutely bare.

One owner.
Higgins, who seems to operate as Rebecca’s second in command.
Keeley, who runs marketing? But was only hired in season 2?
An equipment manager. First Nate. Now the other guy.

That’s it.

I would like to see more bodies. Sports teams like Richmond rely on hundreds of people to keep them running. Show me some extras walking the halls.
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I thought that the Keeley and Rebecca friendship and mentorship was also well done. Rebecca is single for the first time in a long time, so Keeley has something to offer her in terms of living life more freely and romantically, and Keeley wants to become a more serious businessperson, which is what Rebecca does so well. The two make for an odd but lovely pairing that I loved watching throughout the season.
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The “I love you” from both Jamie and then Roy within seconds of each other must’ve been amazing for Keeley. It was great fun to watch. A smartly done moment.
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Nate’s kissing of Keeley in the dressing room was also silly and unrealistic and done one million times before. ____________________________________

The transition of Nate from lovable underdog to evil villain was not done well. It did not ring true to me in any way whatsoever. It’s also very unlikely that a former equipment manager with less than two years of assistant coaching under his belt is being hired to coach a Premier League team.

Also, his hair turned gray very quickly. It’s likely designed to help signal his transformation to a villain, but it’s ham-handed at best.

Here’s my theory:

The writers of Ted Lasso found themselves with a show absent any real villains (as I stated in season 1), so they manufactured villains out of Nate and Jamie’s father rather than introducing actual antagonists in an authentic way.

At least I hope so, because Nate’s descent to villainy was silly and sad and ridiculous and way too fast. There was no reason for him to turn on Ted and the team. Even if he feels ignored, he shows no reason or inclination to descend into vindictiveness like this.

It also violates the essential tenet of the show:

No one is bad. They are only broken in need of repair.

You can argue that Nate is only broken, but outing Ted to the press, kissing Keeley, demanding public credit for his efforts, believing that they are sticking with his strategy in the final game in order to shame him, rejecting Ted’s forgiveness, plotting with Rupert at the funeral, and tearing up the “Believe” poster were all pretty villainous.
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The fact that Ted remains thousands of miles away from his son is still outrageous and stupid and the single greatest flaw in the show.

There is no way in hell that Ted Lasso remains in England, an ocean away from his boy, for two years. The man who struggles from feelings of abandonment after the suicide of his father abandons his own son for two years and more?

Stupid. Avoidable, fixable, and stupid. It makes me crazy.
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I loved season 1 of Ted Lasso. I couldn’t wait to watch another episode. Elysha and I watch 30-60 minutes of television 4-5 times per week, so it takes us a while to get through a show, but during season 1 of Ted Lasso, I felt no desire to skip a night in favor of something else.

I had that feeling during season 2.

I hope Ted Lasso returns to its roots in season 3. I want to really love it again.

Clara and Elvis

Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” is playing. I’m sitting in front of my computer, listening and writing.

Clara enters the room and says, “Dad, is this Elvis Presley?”

“Elvis?” I shout. “You think this is Elvis Presley? You think the man singing right now – the one playing the guitar and singing – is Elvis Presley?”

I was devastated. Thirteen years spent teaching my daughter about music have been for naught. She didn’t learn a damn thing. How many times has she listened to Bruce Springsteen? How many times has she listened to one of my favorite songs of all time? Hundreds? Thousands? And she thinks it’s Elvis?

There was very little music in my home while growing up. I have no idea what kind of music my parents enjoyed, if any, because I almost never heard them playing any music. Kind of a tragedy, really. A home absent of music is a quiet one.

The absence of the music, plus the absence of the internet, led to my general lack of knowledge about music other than the music being played on the radio at the time. The Beatles. The Who. Aretha Franklin. Jimi Hendrix. Frank Sinatra. Janis Joplin. Even The Rolling Stones were names I knew but whose music I did not. It wasn’t until I started driving and having access to the radio that I began to discover these musicians and their songs.

But I wanted more for my kids. It was fine for them to know and love today’s music, but I wanted them to know and love the music from the past, too.

Maybe not as deeply and widely and intensely as their musical savant mother, but why not?

I wanted them to be able to recognize Freddy Mercury’s voice or the way Keith Richards plays the guitar. I wanted them to know the drama behind the songs of Fleetwood Mac and the history behind Don McLean’s “American Pie.”

I wanted them to be able to answer every Pete Best trivia question ever asked of them.

I wanted them to know my favorite bands and favorite songs, which included both Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band and “Thunder Road.”

Apparently I had failed.

“Elvis?” I shouted one more time. “This sounds like Elvis to you? Have I taught you nothing?”

Clara smiled. ”No, I know it’s Bruce Springsteen, Dad. But I thought that might hurt you a little if I said it’s Elvis. You also taught me how to mess with people.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so annoyed and so proud at exactly the same moment.

Where were you when? (Revised)

I wrote this about a year ago and have since added to the list based upon reader feedback and recent events.
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I was born after Kennedy’s assassination, so I’m not in the company of people who remember where they were when the announcement of his death was made.

That said, people born after the generation that remembers the Kennedy assassination have their unforgettable moments, too. Those singular moments in history that are so burned into your heart and mind that you can remember precisely where you were standing when they happened or when you learned that they had happened.

So I made a list that pertains specifically to me:

February 22, 1980: The United States Olympic hockey team defeats the Soviet Union in the 1980 Olympic Games in Lake Placid. I watched the game on the television in our living room with adults, but I can’t recall who. Uncles and aunts? Maybe my parents and their friends? Oddly enough, the game had already happened three hours earlier, but in the absence of the internet, networks could show the game on tape delay without concern that the outcome would already be known.

March 30, 1981: President Reagan is shot. My mother told me about the shooting after getting off the bus from school, then I watched coverage on television while eating my after-school snack.

January 28, 1986: The space shuttle Challenger explodes. I was sitting in algebra class, watching on a television alongside my classmates. Our teacher, Mr. Offen, was a longterm substitute and not equipped to manage a class of students who had just watched seven astronauts, including a teacher, die.

November 7, 1991: Magic Johnson announces that he is HIV positive. I heard the news on the radio while pulling into an Almacs grocery store in Attleboro, MA and shared it first with the cashier who rang up my order.

April 19, 1995: The bombing of the Alfred P Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. I learned about the bombing from a customer in the McDonald’s drive-thru less than an hour after it had happened, then I watched coverage of the bombing a couple hours later on a television in the student senate office at Manchester Community College alongside my fellow student government officials.

October 3, 1995: OJ Simpson is acquitted of murder. I watched the news on a television in the student lounge at Manchester Community College with friends and fellow students.

April 20, 1999: The Columbine massacre takes place. I watched it happen in real time while standing in the student lounge at Manchester Community College.

September 11, 2001: Terrorists crash planes into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and Shanksville, PA. I received a phone call in my classroom at Wolcott School alerting me that a small plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I watched the towers fall and learned of the Pentagon attack on a small television in the principal’s office shortly thereafter.

February 1, 2003: The space shuttle Columbia breaks apart upon reentry. I was driving south on the Berlin Turnpike after picking up donuts at Dunkin’ Donuts when I heard the news on the radio.

June 25, 2009: Michael Jackson dies. I was on a beach at Wood Pond in West Hartford, CT, celebrating the end of the school year with my students and their families when someone learned of the news on their phone.

December 14, 2012: The Sandy Hook massacre takes place. I learn about it first via ESPN.com while sitting in my classroom.

April 15, 2013: The Boston Marathon is bombed. I was standing in my kitchen, ready to leave for a Moth StorySLAM in Boston when I received the news via my phone.

November 8, 2016: Donald Trump is elected President. I am participating in Slate’s Election Night event at The Bell House in Brooklyn, telling a story about my college campaign for President.

January 6, 2021: The Capitol insurrection. I was sitting at my desk at school, watching live coverage on my laptop.

I also wonder if I will always remember where I was when:

November 7, 2020: The networks finally call the Presidential election for Joe Biden. I was sitting in my office, speaking to a client in Romania when Elysha walked in, pulled my notepad across the desk, wrote, “Biden wins!” in black ink, and kissed my cheek.

January 20, 2021: Joseph Biden is inaugurated as 46th President of the United States. I watched the entire event with my students in a morning and afternoon that meant a great deal to me and many of my students.

April 20, 2021: Derek Chauvin guilty verdict is announced. I was sitting in my office, speaking to one of my corporate clients via Zoom, when Elysha shouted the verdict for us to hear from the kitchen.

Did I miss anything? I was nine years old in 1980, so anything before that is probably beyond my recollection.

Unsettling second generation

It’s getting stranger by the day. I taught the uncle of one of my current fifth grade students back when he was in fifth grade. I also taught the mother of one of my colleague’s fifth grade students back when she was in third grade. And now one of my former students is a colleague in my school. After spending a year in my fifth grade classroom years ago, she now works alongside me. This is what nearly a quarter century in the same place will get you.

Pinewood Derby disappointment

It was a tough Saturday for Charlie.

He raced in his first Pinewood Derby, a contest by which Cub Scouts transform a block of wood into a racing car and competing against other Cub Scouts in a race down a 32 foot long track.

I competed in many a Pinewood Derby when I was a kid, so I was pleased to see that decades later, the tradition continues.

Unlike in my day, however, today’s Pinewood Derby races are timed to the thousandth of a second, meaning that the ultimate winner isn’t always known until the computer averages the times of the cars to determine the fastest one.

Charlie designed and built his car almost entirely on his own, so we didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at Saturday’s Pinewood Derby. Charlie’s car ran in four preliminary heats against three other cars, racing each time in a different lane, and his car was victorious in every heat.

He was thrilled. So, too, were we. His research and hard work was paying off.

Charlie’s car advanced to the final set of races alongside three other competitors. Four cars in all racing for three trophies.

Charlie placed third in the first of four final heats, but he placed fourth in the other three races. Though Elysha and I were almost certain that he was going to finish in fourth place overall based upon these results, Charlie wasn’t so sure, so when the Scoutmaster announced, “In third place…” and accidentally flashed Charlie’s name on the screen, Charlie went from elated to devastated.

The series of events really couldn’t have been designed any better to crush his spirits:

Win all four of your preliminary heats. One of only two cars to do so.Then lose by thousandths of a second in a series of final races against three other competitors.Then have your name flashed on the screen as the third place finisher.Then be told, “Oops, you finished fourth. Sorry. And there is no trophy for fourth place.”

Ouch.

We recommended that in the future, the Scoutmasters race just three cars in the final series of heats or simply add a fourth place trophy. Putting one child in the position of racing in the finals and not winning anything is probably not ideal.

As Elysha said, “Why not just let one more kid go home feeling good?”

To his credit, Charlie handled his disappointment well. He was upset, of course, and it took a while before he stopped complaining about flashing his name in third place, which I understand. It was an honest mistake, but I’m still complaining about it today.

About an hour after returning home, Clara came downstairs with a gift for Charlie:

Charlie’s Fun with Coupon Book

Included in the book are coupons for:

Watch a three movie marathon with Clara – Your choice of movies (except for Star Wars and superheroes)No mention of mythology for 24 hoursNo kisses for 6 hoursFor fun only duelClara does your chores for 24 hours (not valid on clothing and room cleaning)No Percy Jackson references for 24 hours

I’m most impressed with correct use of the apostrophe in “Charlie’s” on the front of the coupon book

I’m most jealous of the “No mythology for 24 hours” coupon. I offered to purchase it from Charlie for a sizable sum, but he declined.

It’s good to have a sister like Clara on a day that seemed to perfectly designed for disappointment.

I’m not opposed to my child losing a contest. He recently endured a winless season of baseball. Many, many games played. Not a single victory. Disappointing, for sure, but still fun. And many lessons learned.

But when events conspire so effectively to break your little boy’s heart, it’s tough to swallow.

Maybe I’ll hire a team of mechanical engineers from NASCAR next year to assist in the design and build, though I suspect Charlie would reject the help.

To his ever-loving credit, he would prefer to do the work on his own.

Jalloul Montacer on managing people (and teaching kids)

Back in 1997, I was managing a McDonald’s restaurant in Hartford while attending Trinity College and the University of Saint Joseph. The manager who hired me, a man named Fred, sadly passed away unexpectedly, and a week later, our new general manager, Jalloul Montacer, arrived.

I wasn’t so sure about Jalloul at first. He was tough, stoic, and no-nonsense. I remember meeting him across the counter and thinking he wasn’t going to be a nice man.

I wasn’t sure that he and I would get along well.

I was terribly mistaken.

Jalloul turned out to be an extraordinary manager, a good friend, and an even better teacher.

I had been managing restaurants for nearly a decade at that point with great success. Named Manager of the Year twice in my region. Two time winner of the Fastest Grill in Massachusetts competition. I could balance payroll, manage the P&L, and still cook eggs and run the drive thru faster than anyone else.

This made me valuable enough to be able to dictate my schedule, which is what allowed me to work a full time job while also working full time on a degree in English from Trinity College and a degree in elementary education from the University of Saint Joseph.

I thought I knew everything, but Jalloul taught me so much more.

The most important lesson that Jalloul taught me was this:

You are only as good as the people who work for you. If they want you to succeed, you will succeed. So say hello to every employee when they arrive at work. Say goodbye every time you or one of your people leaves for home. Thank every person, every day, for their hard work. Shake every hand. Make them feel important and valued. Ask your employees how they are doing. If they need a ride to work, pick them up. If they’re hungry, send them home with food. Ask them how their job can be made easier. Ask them how the restaurant can be run better. Make their work day as fun as humanly possible. Find ways to make them want to return to work tomorrow.

My job was not to serve customers. My job as manager was to support my staff so that they can serve my customers well.

Jalloul taught me that the best managers stand in the shadows behind their staff, helping their people shine.

It transformed me as a manager. In less than six months, I had the best attendance rate in my restaurant. My shifts ran smoothly and profitably. My days became easier. My job became a lot more enjoyable.

Before I met Jalloul, I worked like hell every day, filling in gaps, jumping into the fray, and using my energy and experience to get through the day.

After I met Jalloul, I focused more of my energies on my people. I supported and trained and cared about each and every one. That turns out to be much easier and far more satisfying than flipping burgers faster than anyone else.

Oddly enough, Jalloul’s lessons on restaurant management have also been the secret to my success in teaching.

I’m not the best designer of lessons.

I’m not the best deliverer of instruction.

There are teachers far better than me at finding ways to teach a concept to a struggling student.

The thing I do well is adhere to Jalloul’s advice:

Build exceptionally strong relationships with students.

Say hello to every student when they arrive to school. Say goodbye every time you or one of your students leave for home. Thank every student, every day, for their hard work. Make them feel important and valued. Ask them how they are doing. Ask them how I could make their days better. Ask them how the school day could be run better.

Make their school day as fun as humanly possible. Find ways to make them want to return to school tomorrow.

I’ve often said that the best training I’ve every received for the classroom was the decade I spent managing McDonald’s restaurants. I learned how to motivate, delegate, prioritize and problem solve. I learned to manage an endless number of ever-changing personalities. I became flexible in my thinking and optimistic in the face of overwhelming odds.

Those years spent managing restaurants were more valuable to me as an educator than all the classes I took in college combined.

But I learned more in the two years spent working with Jalloul Montacer than any other.

Back in 2006, I was named West Hartford’s Teacher of the Year and was one of three finalist for Connecticut’s Teacher of the Year. During the speech I gave on the night I won and later at our school district’s commencement, I thanked a host of people who had been instrumental in my teaching career, but I didn’t thank Jalloul.

I didn’t even think of thanking Jalloul.

That was a mistake.

Today Jalloul is Director of Operations at McDonald’s USA, though he may be retired. I haven’t spoken to him in years, and he hasn’t been active on LinkedIn in a while. He may have hung up his spatula and finally kicked up his feet.

All of this annoys me, because when you recognize how instrumental someone has been to your life, you want them to know it. You want them to know that the impact of their teaching has extended far beyond anything they could have imagined.

You want to thank them for changing your life forever.

I’ve set up a Google Alert on Jalloul’s name, and I’ve added reminders to my Google calendar to check social media every few months to see if I can find him somewhere.

Maybe he has a Google Alert set up on his own name. If so, maybe he’ll see this post and reach out.

I hope so. I really do. I have a lot of things to say to him, and every single one of them is good.

Mike Pence is still not a good person

On Saturday, in a speech to the Federalist Society, former Vice President Mike Pence stated that “President Trump is wrong, I had no right to overturn the election.”

This statement has gotten a lot of attention, primarily because the vast majority of Republican politicians agree with Pence but refuse to say as much because remaining in power has become more important to them than defending the Constitution and preserving democracy.

But it shouldn’t be much of a surprise. By refusing to follow through on Trump’s plan to overturn the election, he made it clear that he thought Trump was wrong. By certifying the election of President Biden against Trump’s orders, Pence clearly indicated – through word and deed – that he thought Trump was wrong.

Still, I’m pleased to hear someone with the stature of Pence in the GOP defend democracy, but let us remember:

Mike Pence is still a terrible person.

It took him 395 days after the January 6 attack on the Capitol to say these words, so his come-to-Jesus moment is a little late in coming.

Also, for some context:

Mike Pence also began his political career in 1990 by losing a race for Congress because he was caught using campaign funds to pay his mortgage and personal expenses. Polling numbers turned dramatically against him when his personal use of campaign funds was exposed by the press.

Mike Pence ended his political career – at least for now – cowering in the basement of the US Capitol as his Republican supporters attempted to locate and hang him.

Not exactly the most illustrious bookends framing your career in government.

Mike Pence also decided to join a Presidential ticket in 2015 alongside a running mate who:

Called for a “complete and total shut down of Muslims entering America”Repeatedly denigrated the military service of Senator John McCainAttacked Gold Star familiesMocked of the disabled

Pence remained on the ticket after it was revealed that his running mate had confessed to repeated sexual assault, admitted to stealing money from Americans via a fake university, and demonstrated little or no knowledge of basic things like three parts of the nuclear triad, the means by which tariffs function, and basic geography.

Then Pence stood by Trump through two impeachments, the Mueller report, Charlottesville, Helsinki, the doctoring of weather maps, the separation of migrant children from their parents on the border, the reference to African nations as “shithole countries,” the disregard of the emoluments clause, payments of hush money to a porn star, the longest government shutdown in US history, the use of tear gas and force to clear peaceful protesters from Lafayette Park so he could hold a Bible upside down for a photo shoot, the total and complete mismanagement of the pandemic, and much, much more.

I am happy that Pence finally spoke the truth, but let us not forget who he was prior to finding the courage to say something that a large majority of Americans already knows is true, and who he continues to be.