Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 178

Like father, like son

Charlie surprised us yesterday by swallowing a marble.

While I was in the shower and Elysha was on her laptop, ordering furniture, Charlie screamed, ran past Elysha, and then quickly confessed to having swallowed a marble.

This was unfortunately not surprising. We have been scolding him for years for putting things in his mouth that aren’t food and warning him that someday, he’s going to end up in the hospital.

Turns out not every “I told you so” is as satisfying as most.

Thankfully, the marble didn’t block his airway, but still concerned, Elysha called 911, then she came upstairs to tell me the news.

Actually, she sent Clara upstairs to tell me, but all that she said was, “Mommy needs you to come downstairs.”

“Tell her I’m in the shower,” I said, so Clara left, failing to provide any further information.

When Elysha arrived upstairs,, she said, “Honey, it’s okay. He’s fine. But Charlie swallowed a marble, and the ambulance is on its way.”

Oddly enough, this is the second time in my life that I have been in the shower upon receiving news that an ambulance was on route for one of my children. The first time it happened, it was a phone call from a police officer, telling me Clara, Elysha, and three-week old Charlie were on route to the hospital after Claras experienced an emergency reaction.

I threw on my clothes, and by the time I arrived downstairs, the EMT’s and police were already in the house, asking Charlie a lot of questions.

Later on, Charlie would complain that “All they did was ask me questions. It was so boring.”

I sat down across the table from Charlie and told him between questions that I loved him.

Elysha turned to the EMT’s and said, “My husband has PTSD. Medical emergencies trigger him.”

I heard her say these words, but it was like I was listening through a thick pane of glass. I thought, “Did she just tell them that I have PTSD?” I wasn’t sure. I felt cloudy and panicked. Kind of disconnected from my body. Then I thought, “Oh my God. She’s right. I’m actually falling apart right now.”

Elysha has a habit of telling me things about myself that I didn’t know. I can recall at least half a dozen times in my life when she has told me something deeply personal, incredibly insightful, and profoundly important about myself that I did not know. Moments when I think, “My God, she right.”

This was one of those moments.

Ultimately it was decided that an ambulance ride wasn’t required, but an x-ray was recommended, so we sent Clara off to the neighbors and headed over to the 24 hour walk-in clinic, where we waited for almost two hours before being seen.

In that time, Elysha and I finished ordering the furniture, and I bought hot dogs at Shake Shack, so it wasn’t all bad. Charlie was eventually scanned and the marble was found in his stomach, right where it should be.

Happily, the doctor said the marble will pass. In the past, parents were asked to examine their child’s poop to confirm that the object has left the body, but the doctor explained that this was no longer necessary. “Studies show that parents miss the object about 80% of the time anyway. If it becomes stuck, he will feel some pain and we will just re-scan.”

The doctor said it should pass within a week, then Charlie piped in. “Actually, about three days.” The doctor smiled and said, “You’re right. Where did you learn that?”

“Book,” Charlie said.

He wants to be a doctor.

Later on, I told my friend about the incident. His response: “Why did he put a marble in his mouth?”

I explained that he has daughters, so he wouldn’t understand. Little boys (and even the occasional fifth grade boys) put everything in their mouths. It’s like a third hand.

I know this on a personal level. When I was a child, I swallowed a penny. It’s a story I have told at The Moth, Speak Up, and many other places.

I’ve also told my children the story. Charlie knows the story well. Now he has his own version of the story.

Apples and trees, I guess.

Speak Up #74: "Twenty-one Truths About Love" Book Launch

On episode #74 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, we air the launch of Matthew Dicks's latest novel "Twenty-one Truths About Love."

The episode features stories about the publishing of the book, Elysha playing her ukulele and singing for just the third time in public, and much more!

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

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicks-subscribe

Subscribe to the Speak Up newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-speak-up

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-grin-and-bare-it

Charlie's turkey

Charlie came home from school yesterday with an art project turkey, which I‘ve always found a little odd.

We ask small children create happy versions of a bird they almost never see alive and will be eating in a day or two.

Anthropomorphized, construction paper versions of their future food.

Weird. Right? The only real interaction that children (or adults) have with turkeys is with their hollowed-out carcass, yet somehow the happy turkey has become a symbol of our holiday.

On the back of Charlie’s turkey are unrealistically colored feathers, and on each feather is written something for which Charlie is thankful.

My heart melted when I saw “My sister.” I can’t tell you how happy I am that Charlie and Clara love each other so much.

I was impressed when I saw “Freedom” and “Universe.” Large, fairly amorphous concepts, but Charlie seems to understand their importance.

I admit that I was a little annoyed that didn’t make the cut but “Toys” did.

Toys over parents?

The only solace I took from “Toys” was that it didn’t say “Mom.”

Indicating his thankfulness for Elysha while leaving me off entirely (which was a definite possibility) might have been too much for me to take.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Women's shirts make messaging hard

A woman approached me yesterday and asked, “Do you like my tee shirt?”

There was a message on the shirt, stretched across her chest, which is always awkward for me.

Her request amounted to something like this:

“I’ve purchased a shirt with a clever message that I’d love for you to read and admire. Unfortunately, the message is stretched across the curvature of my chest, requiring you to essentially stare at my chest while reading, and you might really need to stare if the message is in any way obscured by the curvature of my chest, which isn’t exactly flat and ideal for messaging.

Of course, you know that staring at a woman’s chest is not at all appropriate. Your lifelong exposure to the “My eyes are up here!” joke has made that abundantly clear, and as a decent human being, you probably know this anyway. No woman wants to be leered at in that way.

Except this time. Go ahead and stare because I think the message that I’ve stretched across my chest might make you smile in a non-sexual way, so please. Stare away. As long as you need to. Just this time.”

And that’s when I’m specifically invited to stare.

Just imagine how fraught and perilous these situations are when there is messaging on a woman’s shirt that you’d like to read but haven’t been invited to stare.

Deep, seasonal thoughts from my children

In a period of about three minutes:

Clara, age 10, asked me to turn down the temperature upstairs. “I’m not getting that crisp, fall feeling that I enjoy this time of year.”

Charlie, age 7, said, “I’m so glad we’re human beings. If we were anything else, life would not be so good.”

Also, “Dad, it’s like we’re living in a time machine. The millisecond that just passed was for one millisecond in the future and the next millisecond in the past. It’s crazy. We’re living in that tiny bit between the future and the past.”

My children make the childhood version of myself feel so incredibly stupid.

68 garments?

The average American buys about 68 garments every year.

68 GARMENTS PER YEAR.

I don’t wear 68 different garments in any given year.

Statistics like this are useful reminders that the lives we lead are not always as mainstream and average as we might think.

For example, I’m keenly aware that the average American adult is watching an average of five hours and four minutes of television per day. Unless I’m watching a football game, Elysha and I average less than two hours of television PER WEEK, and it’s not because we don’t enjoy television.

We’re simply too busy to watch it on most days.

When people ask me how I get so much accomplished (and I’m asked this question all the time), I have a multitude of answers - so many that I’m writing a book on the subject - but television is a good one. If the average American is watching more than 35 hours per week and I’m watching just 2 hours per week, you can bet your ass that I’m going to accomplish more in those 33 hours spent not watching TV.

But I’m aware of this disparity. When my friends and colleagues start talking about television, I’m almost always at a loss, both in terms of the actual shows and the people who star in them. I sense this disparity every day.

I honestly couldn’t pick Kim Kardashian out of a lineup. I’m also not even sure if she’s on television anymore, or why she was on television in the first place.

I’m aware of my cultural ignorance in this regard. I’m aware that my television viewing is different than most.

But 68 garments? That’s a new one for me.

But it serves as a reminder that the bubble we occupy is often not as large as we think. People live in ways entirely unlike our own. They have different habits and routines, and they spend their time and money in ways we couldn’t begin to imagine. They have different priorities, different desires, and a variety of interests entirely unlike our own.

This is good to know. Assuming that everyone is living in a way similar to our own is an excellent way of hardening that bubble around us and expanding our misunderstanding, confusion, and the distance between ourselves and our fellow human beings.

So 68 garments, huh?

Okay, people. I’m sure I do many things that you would find equally bizarre.

Beginning with purchasing far fewer than 68 garments per year.

Truth

In the spirit of Twenty-one Truths About Love and list-making, here are three things I think are true:

Smart people know how little they actually know.

Dumb people think they know everything.

The more often a person compliments himself or herself, the more vile and moronic that person is likely to be.

I don't like Anchorman. Nor should you.

Sometimes the world likes something - even loves something - but you don’t.

Like avocados. I can’t begin to imagine why so many people find these small, shriveled balls of green goo tasty, but they do.

In these instances, you can do one of two things:

Remain silent, knowing that you will stand in opposition of the masses and risk people questioning your taste.

Declare your hatred for the thing that everyone loves and withstand the onslaught.

I always do the latter, because I enjoy argument, conflict, and debate. I enjoy standing alone. Also, I think I’m usually right and simply ahead of the curve.

In that less-than-generous spirit, I would like to officially declare my hatred for the film Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.

People love this movie. They loved it so much that a sequel was made that earned almost as much at the box office as the first. Even Roger Ebert gave this dumpster fire three stars. People quote this film constantly. They rave about Will Ferrell’s performance. They brag about having watched it hundreds of times.

Not only do I not like this film, but I think it’s stupid. I find it unfunny, pointless, and forgettable. The jokes are sophomoric and simple. I don’t care about the characters, and I don’t believe in any of them for even a second. I hope they all fail and die. The movie is filled with cardboard cutouts bumping into things and saying stupid things.

I hate this movie.

In fact, I think Anchorman is worse than avocados, and that’s saying a lot.

But if you love the movie, fear not. I’m not judging you. Lots of people marry someone who they absolutely love only to find out that their spouse is a monster. Sometimes the spouse turns into a monster over time, but other times, their spouse was a monster right from the start.

They just couldn’t see it.

That’s how I feel about Anchorman.

It’s stupid and bad and not funny. You just can’t see it yet.

Books rock

I’ve been out every night this week, speaking about my latest novel, “Twenty-one Truths About Love” to audiences of readers. At each event, a pile of books awaits me, and after I’m finished speaking, the folks who have purchased a book stand in line so that I can sign them.

I can’t tell you how much I enjoy seeing my book in the hands of readers. Knowing that the stuff I made up in my head will be entertaining them in the comfort of their own homes is a great, great thing.

Years ago, many predicted the death of the physical book. Digital formats would lay waste to the technology of paper and ink that has persisted for much of human history. The time of authors signing books would sadly come to an end.

Happily, those naysayers were wrong.

A 2017 survey found 92 percent of college students preferred paper books to electronic versions and a 2016 survey of Webster University students found that just 18 percent of students accessed ebooks with any degree of frequency while 42 percent never used them at all.

Sales of books reflect this preference. Publishers of books in all formats made almost $26 billion in revenue in 2018 in the U.S., with print making up $22.6 billion and e-books taking in just $2.04 billion, according to the Association of American Publishers’ annual report 2019.

Happily, the old fashioned print-and-ink book appears to be here to stay.

You should probably buy one today.

May I suggest “Twenty-one Truths About Love?”

Speak Up Storytelling #73: Storytelling Forensics ("Wet and Naked")

On episode #73 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, I analyze my own story "Naked and Wet" in an episode Elysha Dicks and I call Storytelling Forensics.

LINKS

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling: https://amzn.to/2KGmNz6

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love: https://amzn.to/2Fh5j9L

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

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicks-subscribe

Subscribe to the Speak Up newsletter: http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-speak-up

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's blog: http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-grin-and-bare-it