Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 167

My mother's death, and the unforgettable gift that two students offered to me.

Today is my mother’s birthday.

She would’ve been 70 years-old had she not passed away back in 2007.

When my mother died, she was just 57-years old. Far too young. Every year since then has felt like another tragedy for me.

She would’ve been 58 this year.
63 this year.
68 this year.

Every year still felt far too young.

Even 70 feels far too young to be gone. She never met either of my children or witnessed any of my books being published or watched me perform onstage.

She barely got to know Elysha. I’ve always felt bad for Elysha for never enjoying the blessings of a mother-in-law.

They say that dying is hardest on the living. Tell that to a mother who is about to miss the chance to meet her grandchildren or see her son’s dreams come true or spend real time with her beautiful, brilliant daughter-in-law.

I’ve wondered for years how old my mother would’ve needed to be before I’ll stop thinking of her absence as such a tragedy.

That day has not come.

The craziest thing about my mother’s death is that she’s been gone for 13 years, but there are still days (including last week) when I see something in a store that I know she would’ve liked and think, “I should get that for Mom’s birthday.”

That fraction of a second between thinking of your mother as a living person and remembering that she’s dead is a terrible bit of time.

It’s always hard when a parent passes away. My father-in-law’s mother recently passed away at the age of 98, but it was still hard for him.

There’s nothing like losing a parent.

It’s becomes even harder when you lose your mother but almost all of your friends’ parents are still alive and well. There’s that constant reminder of your loss, of course, but then there are the inadvertent questions and comments, like this past December, when a friend was complaining about how difficult her mother can be around the holidays and then asked, “What’s your mom like around the holidays?”

She felt awful, of course, especially because she knew me when my mom died, but that was 13 years ago.

It’s not something you’re expected to remember.

That might be the hardest part of losing a parent. Every year, without fail, my mother’s birthday and the anniversary of her death arrive on the calendar, and these are always sad days for me, but my sorrow is often solitary with the exception of Elysha. While my friends and family care deeply about me, they can’t be expected to keep track of these dates.

Am I supposed to remind them? That would be strange, too.

So you grieve quietly and alone. You might be walking around the workplace with a heavy heart, but you can’t exactly stop your colleagues in the hallway and explain.

It’s as if empathy has an expiration date when it comes to the death of your mother, not because your friends and family don’t care, but because they simply don’t know. And even if they knew, it was more than a decade ago. What are they really expected to say?

About five years ago, I was telling my students about the death of my mother. It was the first time that batch of kids was learning about her passing. It’s a subject that comes up every year with my students. Someone asks a question about my mother, or someone loses a grandparent or pet, and we end up discussing the grieving process. Inevitably, my mother’s death arises.

The kids are always kind, but five years ago, something different happened.

In answer to a question about my mom, I took a deep breath and said, “My mother died about ten years ago.”

I’ll never forget what happened next.

Instantaneously and spontaneously, without any preplanned coordination or communication, two of my students - two of my most emotionally fragile students - rose from their seats on opposite sides of the classroom, walked across the room, and hugged me.

It was the purest expression of empathy over my mother’s death that I had experienced in a long time. It was as if I she had died on that day, and the kids were responding to her passing for the first time.

It was as if that expiration date on empathy has been torn away.

I think about those two kids - a boy and a girl - on days like today. I remember their embrace and the tears that spilled from their eyes and mine.

Children are amazing. On this day when I am away from my students because of the coronavirus, I find myself missing them more than ever.

If you're not doing Homework for Life, today is the most important day to start.

If you follow me in any way, you probably know about Homework for Life.

Maybe you’re even doing it already.

If so, congratulations. You are among the thousands of people around the world who are doing Homework for Life and changing their lives in the process.

Just yesterday, I heard from folks in Oregon, Toronto, and Serbia. All are doing Homework for Life, and all were writing to thank me for offering it to them.

Assigning it to them.

May I humbly suggest that in this time of fear and isolation, Homework for Life is more valuable than ever.

If you don’t know what Homework for Life is, you can watch my TEDx Talk below to learn more, but in brief:

Every day, at the end of the day, I ask myself a simple question:

What is my most storyworthy moment from my day?

In order words, what made this day different than every other day? If I had to tell someone a story from something that happened today, even if that moment wouldn’t make much of a story at all, what moment would I choose?

Then I write that down. Not the whole story, because that would be too much to ask or expect, Write down just enough to capture the moment.

I use an Excel spreadsheet with just two columns:

Column A contains the date, and column B is stretched across the screen. In this space, I record the moment or moments from the day that were most storyworthy.

There are enormous benefits to this practice, even if you never plan on telling a story.

Perhaps the biggest benefit of all is that you’ll start to see the meaningful moments from your day that you’ve failed to recognize before. Over time, you’ll develop of lens for story and realize that your day is filled with moments worth remembering and sharing. Moments that you were either fortunate enough to notice but then forgot or (more likely) moments that you never noticed in the first place.

Suddenly your days will become better. Brighter. More filled with real meaning. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. And it’s not just me. Thousands of people have written to me over the years, telling me that the same has happened to them.

But there’s more:

Time will also slow down for you. As you mark your days with meaning, you won’t toss away days as meaningless and arbitrary bits of time. Moments that you might’ve been noticed but then forgotten will be captured forever, creating a record of your life that will quickly become one of your most treasured things. You’ll even find yourself cracking open, rediscovering memories from the past that you can’t believe you forgot.

Homework for Life has changed the way I see my life. Every day contains multitudes.

But here’s the reason I think you should be doing it now more than ever before:

In the midst of this pandemic and the social distancing and isolation that so many of us are practicing, days may start to blend together and feel terribly similar. Without the variances of everyday life and work and social interaction to occupy our time, we may start to view these coming days as boring, wasted, and insignificant.

We may lose these days to indifference.

But if we stay attuned to our day and note those special moments, we are less likely to lose days. Less likely to to see this time as wasted and meaningless. More likely to distinguish each of these days as different and beautiful and blessed.

Homework for Life can do this for you.

Yesterday, for example, in the midst of near isolation, I added these moments to my Homework for Life:

Charlie knew that Tony Stark’s business partner and surrogate father was the bad guy in Iron Man almost instantly. “It’s obvious. I heard him laugh.” He’s right. The guy laughs like a bad guy.

I found Tobi in the entranceway inside a Stop & Shop bag, sunning himself. Lucky cat. No awareness of coronavirus and more time with the family. This is a holiday for him.

Charlie can't find his Captain America shield (I think I threw it out), so Elysha makes him a new one out of a cereal box that he colors red, white, and blue, and HE COULDN'T BE HAPPIER. SO EXCITED AND THRILLED.

I sent Katie a remastered version of her story about her late husband on their anniversary. What a happy coincidence. So the universe is still working. Just clunking a bit with coronavirus.

I finished my letter to dad, and for half a second, thought, “I should write to Mom, too.” Mom passed away in 2007. When will my brain stop doing that to me?

Nana timed her passing well. If you’re 98 years-old and ill, best to say goodbye before the pandemic strikes.

I don’t like when people talk about beating cancer. “She kicked cancer’s ass” or “She refused to let cancer take her down.” This implies that anyone who succumbs to cancer lost the fight, when in reality, cancer survival often comes down to the type of cancer, early detection, and the ability to access the best healthcare possible.

We need a better name for the “ring toe” because only weirdo hippies wear rings on their toes.

I was supposed to be in Tucson yesterday, speaking on three different panels at a literary festival. Signing books at a local bookshop. Enjoying dinner with good friends who I haven’t seen in years.

It was a far different day than what was originally expected, yet it was also a day filled with meaningful moments, and not because my life is more interesting than yours or because I am somehow special.

I just notice things that most people don’t because I’ve been doing Homework for Life for years.

I see a cat in a grocery bag and capture the same fleeting thought you might’ve had as well, and now, for the rest of my life, that moment will be with me forever. Tobi in a bag in the sunshine.

I have thoughts about cancer, Nana, and toes, and so I record those thoughts rather than allow them to disappear in the ether. Now I don’t lose those ideas. They become part of the fabric of my day. I may write about one or more of those thoughts at greater length someday, but even if I don’t, my day is now marked by a moment in my driveway when I thought about my toes, a moment n the shower when I was thinking about cancer, and a moment at our table when I thought about Nana.

Over time, Homework for Life will allow you to see these moments, too.

You probably won’t see as many as I do for a while, but even if you saw just one (and some days, I only see one), that would be enough.

During this coronavirus pandemic, I think it’s more important than ever to start seeing these moments. Recording them. Capturing these strange and frightening days so that when the world is more normal than it is today, we can look back and see that this time was important and meaningful, too.

That these days of social distancing and isolation mattered. They were scary and somber, but at times, they were also silly and sweet, filled with thought and nuance and slivers of joy.

Start today. Do it for yourself.

Do it for your future self.

Share this idea with someone you love. Assign them Homework for Life. Do it for them, too.

Why do people use slides in their presentations?

A client is preparing for a talk at an upcoming conference in May (which is in serious jeopardy thanks to the current pandemic) and asked me what I thought about using slides as a part of his presentation.

My answer was simple:

“As few as possible. Zero is a great number. Only when absolutely necessary.”

I went on to explain that you want your audience engaged with you. Looking at you. Not staring at some screen hanging over your head, filled with text and titles and bullets.

“Give an audience something to read, and they will read. Even while you are desperately trying to make a point.”

“Then why do so many speakers use so many slides?” the client asked.

I had a few answers. In fact, when coaching and consulting with speakers, I’ve heard lots of their reasons firsthand.

1. “I need slides because everyone else has slides.”

This is the reason most often given to me in defense of slides. This is also the best reason not to use slides. As a public speaker of any kind, you always want to set yourself apart from your fellow speakers and be as memorable as possible.

The last thing you want is to blend into the crowd. This is not the time to act like a zebra. Instead, you want to be more like Halley’s Comet:

Bright, unusual, and unforgettable.

I have spoken at many TEDx events. Almost every TED producer has asked me to bring a slide deck to rehearsal. I do, of course, but during rehearsal, I ask if I can try my talk without the slides to see what they think.

When I’m finished rehearsing without the slides, the response is always the same:

“You don’t need any slides.”

This isn’t entirely true. I often have a title slide, a closing slide, and slides for anything that is authentically visual:

Graphs, charts, and absolutely necessary images.

But that’s it.

At almost every TEDx event where I have spoken, I have been the speaker with the fewest slides by far, yet my talks have gone exceptionally well. I set myself apart from my fellow speakers, and I did so in a good way. I demonstrated my skill and expertise in conveying an entertaining, engaging, and informative talk without having to constantly click through a PowerPoint.

Doing something because other people are doing it is a recipe for mediocrity.

2. “I need slides to help me remember my talk.”

The response to this is simple:

Rehearse more. If your slides are your de facto teleprompter, you don’t understand the purpose of slides.

You also don’t understand how a teleprompter works. They are designed to allow the speaker to see the text.

Not the audience.

A professional speaker should be able to deliver an outstanding speech even if the projector is fried, a critical cable is missing, or your slides were corrupted during transfer.

I’ve experienced technology problems at many professional development seminars, conferences, and one TEDx Talk. Two years ago I shouted stories at a fundraiser from the top of a folding chair, blinded by cell phone lights pointed in my direction when the power went out.

I still receive compliments on that performance to this day.

Professionals can do the job when the lights go out and all they have left is their voice.

If you are relying in tech to get you through your talk, you’re just asking for trouble, and you’re certainly not a professional.

3. “I need slides to help my audience follow my talk.”

This might be true, but if this is the case, it’s also likely that you’re trying to to say too much. Offering too much information in one sitting. Or not focussed nearly enough.

Possibly all three.

Or your talk isn’t properly structured. Not organized in such a way to make the content accessible to your audience. Not providing them with auditory framing devices to allow them to organize your content in their mind.

There’s nothing wrong with an opening slide that outlines the three key points that you’ll be making as you speak, and there’s nothing wrong with a slide at the end summarizing your most salient takeaways, but if you need a multitude of slides in order to guide your audience through your talk, you might as well just hand out a pamphlet instead.

Or maybe write a book.

4. “I need slides because I need to use technology in my talk.”

Teachers and college students training to become teachers occasionally tell me that they are using slides as a part of their lesson because their administrator, supervisor, or professor require the integration of technology in their teaching.

“Requiring the integration of technology” is a stupid requirement of any lesson, but beyond that, PowerPoint and its newer (but essentially the same) cousins do not constitute technology.

PowerPoint was initially released in 1987, making it older than many of the teachers with whom I work.

PowerPoint is technology in the same way a pencil and a book are technology. Yes, all three are technological marvels, but of the three, PowerPoint is the least marvelous and also 33 years old.

If your administrator, supervisor, or professor consider the use of slides as an adequate integration of technology in a lesson, you are working for a dunderhead.

Sadly, there are a lot of them in this world.

Of all the talks I’ve ever delivered, this (which I’ve delivered more times than I can count) is probably my most well known.

Does it use slides? Yes.

How many? Close to zero.

More importantly (and this should be your standard), only when absolutely necessary.

My immediate and not-surprising response to time on my hands

Yesterday was my last day of teaching for at least two weeks. Schools have shuttered in my school district in an effort to flatten the curve of this global pandemic, and so I find myself at home for the foreseeable future.

In addition to teaching, all of my speaking engagements, workshops, and storytelling performances in March and early April have also been cancelled.

No fewer than five paid speaking gigs have been called off, and we’ve been forced to cancel or postpone two workshops and three shows of our own.

I’ve also cancelled two author talks and a meeting with a bookclub.

This has been an expensive month for me in terms of lost income.

My calendar has honestly not been this empty since 1994 when I finally made it to college and was going to school full time, serving in student government, writing for the school newspaper, competing on the debate team, and managing a restaurant full-time while working in the writing center part-time.

Since those days, I have been constantly, neverendingly, blessedly busy.

No complaints. As I’ve said many times, it’s good to be busy.

Not surprising, my response to this unexpected and unprecedented availability was automatic:

Be productive. Use this time wisely. Try to create some positivity in the midst of this worldwide crisis.

So being me, I made a list.

First item my list:

Write a book.

I know it seems ridiculous to think I could write an entire book over the course of 14 days, but the book is nonfiction, which is much easier for me to write than fiction, and it’s already organized in my mind.

I think I might be able to do it. I’m at least going to try like hell.

Also on the list:

Watch as many Marvel movies as possible with Charlie and Elysha. We have barely watched any of these films, but armed with the proper order to watch them, we will proceed through the catalog thanks to our Disney streaming subscription.

Clean out the garage. The kids have made it a mess by using every item in the garage as a toy and never putting anything away. They are quite annoying.

Empty the basement. I live in a town that provides its residents with free bulk pickup every week, so there will be a constant stream of old furniture and other related items on my curb every Thursday morning for quite a while.

Play every board game that we own with my family at least once. Donate the ones we don’t like anymore.

Read at least two books.

Wash and fold all the laundry in the house, including the bags of old clothing that were recovered from recent closet cleanings.

Do a 10-minute plank.

Write and mail 25 letters.

Begin writing a musical with my partner, Kaia.

Record two Speak Up Storytelling podcasts, bonus content for our Patreon account, plus the final episode of my Twenty-one Truths About Love podcast.

Record at least two new videos for my YouTube channel.

Explore the possible avenues for producing my storytelling instruction for an online platform.

Go through the children’s toy bins at night while they are asleep and throw away or donate old toys that they no longer play with or even know exist. Don’t tell them.

Ride my bike with the kids.

If it’s even close to warm enough, play a round of golf.

I reserve the right to add to this list at any tme.

If you find yourself with time on your hands as a result of this pandemic, I encourage you to find some way to be productive, whatever that might look like for you:

Binge-watch Breaking Bad if that has always been your dream. Prepare your garden for the spring. Take naps. Try a new recipe. Go for walks. Wash your windows. Sew that missing button onto your shirt. Empty your email inbox. Do your taxes.

Oh, I should do my taxes.

When given the thing so many of us complain is in short supply - time - I suggest you make the most of it.

This is how your federal government has responded to the coronavirus pandemic

A few pertinent facts about the Trump administration’s response to the coronavirus pandemic:

The administration is proceeding with its proposed cutting of Health and Human Services funding by $9.5 billion, including a 15 percent cut of $1.2 billion to the CDC and a $35 million cut to the Infectious Diseases Rapid Response Reserve Fund's annual contribution.

The administration still intends to cut food stamps for more than 700,000 Americans on April first, reiterating this intent just yesterday. These are the Americans who are most likely to be without work and be most effected during this pandemic.

Trump fired the US pandemic response team in 2018 and never bothered to replace them.

Two weeks ago, Trump said, “When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero, that's a pretty good job we've done."

This was despite the clarion call from experts who insisted that action needed to be taken immediately.

One week ago, Trump attempted to prevent Americans from leaving a cruise ship infected with coronavirus.

He said:

“My experts would like to have the people come off. I’d rather have the people stay because I like the numbers being where they are. I don’t need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn’t our fault.”

He was worried that the number of coronavirus cases would increase if Americans disembarked the ship. By leaving them in international waters, the CDC would not include them in the total number of Americans infected with the virus.

He said this aloud.

Trump claimed during his Oval Office address on Wednesday that health insurers "have agreed to waive all copayments for coronavirus treatments."

This was not true. They have agreed to waive copayments for testing (less than $50) but not treatment, which can run into the tens of thousands of dollars if hospitalization is required, which will force many uninsured Americans to forgo testing and treatment entirely.

For many people, waiving of copayments for testing is irrelevant because coronavirus testing kits are in short supply and unavailable in many places in America, despite Trump’s assurances that testing kits are widely distributed throughout America.

Even his own officials refute this claim, often immediately after he makes it.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), a total of at least 11,079 specimens have been tested since January. However, the number of people tested is likely to be lower, as patients typically provide at least two specimens for testing.

By contrast, South Korea has tested more than 210,000 people and is testing nearly 20,000 people every day, while in the UK, more than 29,700 people have been tested, and more than 1,000 tests are being done every day.

Trump claimed during his Oval Office address on Wednesday that all travel from Europe, including cargo, would be suspended indefinitely. This was also not true. Travel for American citizens returning from Europe is still permitted, as are cargo shipments. This confusion sent the stock market into another free fall on Thursday, losing another 7% in just 10 minutes before circuit breakers were triggered, halting trading.

So far the stock market has lost more than 20% of its value.

Trump has also claimed that we are testing anyone arriving from overseas for the coronavirus. This is also not true.

Trump went golfing last Sunday.

Last night he was tweeting about the magnificence of Japan’s new Olympic Stadium and attacking Barack Obama and Joe Biden’s response to the H1Ni pandemic in 2009.

America was not going to avoid this pandemic, but our response has been incompetent, deceitful, negligent, and cruel. As a result, the virus will spread in greater numbers and more Americans will die than was necessary. These are the times when we need swift, decisive, competent, clear direction from our federal government predicated on the counsel of scientists and other leading authorities.

None of this is happening.

At this point, Americans must lean on state and local officials to compensate for an incompetent, disinterested, and cruel federal government. There is nothing we can do to change the reality that I have outlined above.

But in November, Americans will have an opportunity to restore our federal government and its formal levels of expertise, empathy, and preparedness.

We have an opportunity to put the grownups back in charge.

If this crisis doesn’t convince Americans that this racist, sexist, incompetent reality show experiment has failed, I don’t think anything will.

Speak Up Storytelling: Building a Story ("News of Divorce")

On episode #89 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, I try something new. I craft a brand new story on the spot - something I do in workshops but never before on the podcast.

Also something that I don’t entirely love. Not one bit. It’s an opportunity to hear me tell the worst version of a story. A story during its initial inception, filled with mistakes and tangents and inconsistencies.

Still covered in the primordial goo on brith.

That might be a little much, but seriously, it’s not my favorite thing to do, but it’s also the most highly rated part of every one of my workshops, so people like it. So I tried it.

Let me know what you think. Part of me is hoping you love the episode, because I want to produce great content, and part of my hopes you hate it so I never have to do it again.

LINKS

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

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

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

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I have a bunch of jobs, and I want a bunch of jobs

I wear many hats. I do many things. One might think that I collect jobs.

At the moment, my list of jobs for which I am paid for regularly include:

elementary school teacher

author

humor columnist

advice columnist

dramaturge

storyteller

public speaker

producer

podcaster

communications/advertising consultant

storytelling/speaking coach

wedding DJ

minister

life coach

I’ve also been paid to work as a standup comic and film consultant in 2019 and 2020, but not on a regular basis.

Admittedly the list looks quite long, but many of those jobs boil down to two things:

I teach, and I manipulate words.

Despite my large number of jobs, I always have my eyes on future careers. Perhaps prolonged periods of poverty have caused me to keep as many options open as possible in the event of economic disaster.

More likely, I have an enormous number of interests and believe in the power of saying yes.

Three of these possible future careers that I’ve written about before and am still seeking include:

Professional best man

Double date companion

Grave site visitor

Potential clients have actually attempted to hire me on four separate occasions as a professional best man, but timing and distance have prevented me from taking the job. Three of the jobs landed in the midst of my school year and were from couples on the west coast and London. The fourth was in New Jersey in the middle of my summer vacation, but the groom backed out when his bride found out what he was doing.

She didn’t want a hired gun at her wedding.

I kept my deposit, though, so I made a little money on the deal.

I’m still hoping to find a client someday.

In addition to these jobs, I’ve decided to add two more jobs to the list of those that I am currently (if not actively) seeking:

1. Productivity consultant

Here is my dream:

Hire me for a two week period to improve your work or home life productivity. Based upon my experience and success with my own personal productivity and my lifelong commitment (and possible obsession) with doing more in less time, I believe that I am highly qualified to help any client who has an open mind and is willing to make changes in his or her life in the spirit of efficiency and time management.

During the first week of the two week period, I would follow my client through their day as a silent observer, noting responsibilities, routines, barriers to productivity and choices being made that assist or hinder a client’s personal productivity.

Based upon these observations, I would design a plan of improved productivity, and during the second week, I would follow my client through his or her day again, implementing the plan. This would include building routines into the day to save time, prioritizing tasks based upon long-term outcomes, highlighting moments of inefficiency and suggesting changes in the choices being made that will ultimately lead to increased productivity.

I believe that this training would be effective for everyone from corporate executives to teachers to salespeople to stay-at-home parents. I also believe it would be highly effective for both individuals as well as larger organizations.

I could save people a lot of time.

2. Professional development czar

I have never been foolish enough to accept a position in education outside the classroom. I like working with kids too much, and I am fully aware of the hours and stress dealt with by principals, superintendents, and the like.

No thank you.

Having said that, there is one position that could possibly steal me from the classroom, and that is professional development czar. Specifically, I would like to design and implement all professional development for a school district, and at the same time, coach teachers who are in the first three years of their career.

I believe that professional development in any field (and all education in general) should be entertaining, engaging, and have a clear and immediate impact on performance. I also believe that this is exactly what every professional in the world wants in their professional development.

Yet the number of times I have experienced professional development that meets these three criteria (or even two) is almost none.

I can fix this. And I can do it in four days per week instead of five.

At the same time (and in those same four days), I would also like to coach teachers who are just starting their careers. This is when they are most open to change and feedback. Routines have not yet been hardened. Philosophies have not yet calcified. It’s the time when real change can happen.

I’ve pitched this professional development czar position to several superintendents, and all have said the same thing:

Sounds really great. I don’t have the money.

I get it. The American public continues to skimp on public education and deny children the resources they need, but my response is always the same:

You can’t afford not to hire me.

So far no one has agreed.

In addition to these jobs, I also have a list of more formal, more time consuming occupations that I would like to pursue at some point in my life, perhaps when I decide to leave teaching someday.

This list includes (in no particular order):

Behavioral economist

Bookstore owner

Unlicensed therapist

Camp director

College professor

CEO of Boy Scouts of America

Filmmaker

Newspaper columnist

CEO of Girl Scouts of America

Professional poker player

Hot dog vendor at an MLB stadium

Bartender

Sociologist

Before it became illegal to play poker online, one could argue that I was already working as a professional poker player, earning enough to pay for our honeymoon and more, and if and when it becomes legal again, I suspect that I will return to this profession.

I could start other jobs like newspaper columnist at any time. I’m just waiting for someone to offer me the gig.

I’ve dreamt of becoming an unlicensed therapist for some time. I don’t want to go back to school to become a licensed professional, but I think I would be good enough to attract clients despite the lack of credentials, and at least one therapist who I know agrees and suggested that I hang out a shingle.

I could also begin teaching college classes at some point while still teaching elementary school, but ideally, I’d like to be offered a job as a full-time professor at a school where I would help to prepare teachers for the world that they will face.

Most of are not being prepared properly.

I’m still waiting for someone to come a’calling.

My message in writing this post is a simple one:

I hope you have a variety of interests. I hope you tun out of time before you run out of things that you want to do. The average American will change careers 5-7 times during their working life according to career change statistics.

I’ve been an elementary school teacher for 21 years. I’ve been a wedding DJ for 23 years.

I am an anomaly in today’s world.

Then again, I’ve also managed to launch and build a number of other jobs in that time, so I perhaps I simply fit the statistics in my own special way.

Either way, cultivate new interests. Explore opportunities. Begin building your knowledge and expertise in other ares.

Have lots of things that interest you.

This week’s Moth Radio Hour featured a woman who became a park ranger at the age of 80.

There’s always time to try something new.

Perfection

I experience many good, very good, and even great moments in a day.

Eating my Egg McMuffin every morning is a legitimately great moment for me (followed by the saddest moment of almost every day when breakfast is over).

Listening to a student say, “Oh, I get it now!” is just as great as an Egg McMuffin.

Maybe even a little better.

Staring at Elysha is pretty fantastic.

Absorbing the full body hugs of my children upon arriving home from work might be the best moment of almost every day.

There are the little things, too. Those smaller, less significant moments that are also quite lovely:

Offering much-needed advice to a colleague. Purchasing stock on the dip. Listening to a cat who has planted himself on my lap purr. Discovering that a meeting has been cancelled. Helping my kids with their homework. Capturing an audience’s attention with a story. Removing a bit of clutter from our home. Reading a collection of scintillating sentences. Managing to write a few scintillating sentences of my own.

Sometimes we are lucky enough to capture one of these moments of perfection with a photograph.

Yesterday was one of those days.

A man in McDonald’s asks me about Jesus.

I was pouring Diet Coke into a cup at a local McDonald’s - the restaurant I managed for years while putting myself through college - when a man approached and asked if I knew that Jesus was my savior.

I was in a hurry. I was teaching a storytelling workshop in less than 30 minutes, and I believe that the only way to be on time is to be early, so I didn’t have time to chat about religion.

Nor the inclination.

I was also working on a story in my mind - one I would be telling in less than an hour as a part of my workshop. I didn’t want to be interrupted.

So I said to the man:

“I know you’re doing this because you want to save my soul, and I know it’s incredibly hard to do what you’re doing. And It’s a beautiful thing that you care enough about me and others to make this effort, but honestly, I don’t have the time nor the inclination to talk about this right now. But thank you for thinking of me. It means a lot.”

Then the man started to cry.

Having been born into a Catholic family, then having quit Catholicism after my first CCD class in favor of Protestantism, then having abandoned religion altogether when I decided that it was all made up, but then having been lifted from homelessness by a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses and spending almost two years living in their home, I understand the Christian imperative to spread the good news of Jesus.

I think it’s a little silly, of course. According to the doctrine of at least some Christian religions, if you don’t accept Jesus as your personal savior, you can’t go to heaven, even if you’ve spent your entire life in some Amazonian rainforest or on some remote desert island, never having the chance to even hear about Jesus.

That doesn’t strike me as a fair and just God, but that’s not the point. Here’s the point:

As intrusive, onerous, and pushy as someone like this man might seem, he is genuinely trying to save souls, which is not easy. More often than not, his efforts are met by ridicule, anger, disregard, or disgust.

In fact, it’s likely that almost all his attempts to speak to people are unsuccessful, and most encounters probably end in acrimony.

Nevertheless, that man believes that I cannot go to heaven unless I accept Jesus as my savior, so he’s trying like hell to save me, despite the constant threat of ridicule or worse.

When was the last time you tried to save a stranger?

Hell, when was the last time you tried to save a friend or loved one?

This is why I thanked the man for his efforts and treated him with a bit of grace. And my choice of response, in turn, is why he cried.

Not sobbing and snot bubbles. It was more of a teary-eyed, verklempt reaction.

And I get it.

I know that most people respond with something far less decent when a man like this approaches them. I know that most of his encounters are negative. I watched my family of Jehovah’s Witnesses suffer from derision almost everyday. Despite their best intentions, most people despised them for their efforts and treated them terribly as a result.

I despised those people.

It’s not always easy, but when we judge people on their intent, even if that intent does not align to our personal belief system, the world is a more decent place. We treat people more decently. When we take a moment to honor effort and purpose over intellectual, philosophical, or political agreement, I think we are better people.

If someone is advocating for a position because they genuinely think it’s right and just, I need not agree with them or support them. In fact, I can stand in direct opposition to their efforts. But I can still treat them with grace.

Don’t get me wrong. If they are advocating for a position out of self-interest or some other nefarious purpose, or they are misleading or lying, I need not be decent at all. I can hammer away with all of the weapons in my verbal toolbox.

But if they believe that they are doing right by the world and are noble and just in their pursuit, I try to be decent and kind, even if I am diametrically opposed to their position.

So no, I don’t think Jesus is my savior. I think he was a smart, decent human being, far ahead of his time, and I believe his teachings still have great relevance today.

But no, not my personal savior and certainly not the son of God.

But if someone believes this and is willing to risk ridicule to save me, the least I can do is thank him. Speak kindly. Then move along.

The man thanked me for my kindness and wished me luck, and I did the same. He’s probably forgotten me by now, but I suspect that I’ll remember him for a long time.

He tried to save me. I owe him that much.

Colbert drinks alcohol. The audience cheers.

Every now and then, Stephen Colbert will drink alcohol during his evening monologue. At some appropriate moment, usually in an effort to feign disinterest or finish off a bit, he will step toward the camera so a staffer can pass him a glass of bourbon, whiskey, or similar spirit, and then he drinks.

Here’s the bizarre part:

Every time, without fail, the audience cheers. Some hoot. Others holler. A couple even whoop. But the response is always audible, always positive, and always thrilled.

Steven Colbert takes a sip of hard liquor, and everyone cheers.

I don’t get it.

Are we still at the point where a 55 year-old man imbibing alcohol is cheer-worthy? I’m not complaining about the actual drinking. That’s fine. Legal and perfectly acceptable.

But cheer-worthy?

Seth Meyers has an occasional segment called “Seth Meyers and INSERT CELEBRITY NAME Go Day Drinking.” In this segment, Seth and a celebrity like Rhianna, Ina Garten, or the Jonas Brothers drink large amounts of alcohol in the middle of the day, and hilarity ensues. Audiences don’t cheer when Seth drinks, but they laugh, which makes a lot more sense to me, because it’s funny.

And yes, if you’re a teenager and your friend is shotgunning his first beer, or you’re a freshman in college and your sorority sister is doing her first keg stand, you cheer.

This makes sense, too. Your brain is not yet fully developed, and alcohol consumption is still novel and illegal.

It makes sense to cheer. It’s kind of stupid, but it also makes sense.

But this is a grown-ass man, standing before an audience of presumably grown-ass adults, sipping a little scotch, and the response is always loud, enthusiastic, and filled with a few high-pitched screams.

What the hell is going on?