Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 23

Unlikely but not impossible

“Make not impossible
that which but seems unlike.”

Shakespeare — “Measure for Measure”

I agree with Shakespeare. Wholeheartedly.

The chasm between “unlikely” and “impossible” is immense, though too many people see them as oddly adjacent.

Nearly synonymous.

As a result, dreams are abandoned. Hope is lost. Surrender is inevitable.

Understanding the enormous difference between unlikely and impossible is the difference between dreaming and dying.

It’s served me well.

It was unlikely—while all of my friends were attending college and I was scraping by as a McDonald’s manager—that my dream of someday becoming a school teacher would ever come true. It was even less likely when I was homeless, jailed, and facing trial for a crime I did not commit.

But I eventually made it to Manchester Community College at age 23.

I made it to Trinity College and St. Joseph’s University when I was 25.

I graduated with an English degree and teaching certificate when I was 28 and became a teacher that same year. I’ve taught in the same elementary school for the past 27 years and in the same classroom for 24 of those years,

In 2005, I was named Teacher of the Year in my school district and was one of three finalists for Connecticut’s Teacher of the Year.

While teaching at my school, I met Elysha and some of my closest friends.

I was seven years behind most of my friends who went straight from high school to college, and I dealt with some unexpected struggles along the way, but I never stopped believing that it might someday happen, so I never stopped trying to make my dream come true.

Unlikely but not impossible, so I never stopped trying.

It was unlikely for me to ever publish a book with a major publishing house like Doubleday, St. Martin’s Press, or New World Library. It’s unlikely for most people. Finding a literary agent and selling a book to a major publisher is the steepest of steep climbs, especially for someone who came from nothing and knew no one.

I knew it was unlikely, but I also knew it wasn’t impossible, so I never stopped trying. I’ve written every single day of my life since I was 17 years old without ever missing a day. At age 37, I finally published my first novel — “Something Missing” — with Doubleday.

My tenth book—my first middle-grade novel—will hit bookstore shelves later this year. I’ve published novels and nonfiction with all the major publishing houses listed above.

My novel “Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend” became an international bestseller and has been translated into more than 25 languages.

Unlikely but not impossible, so I never gave up. Never stopped writing.

When I began competing in Moth StorySLAMs in New York City, the record number of wins was 25. I knew how unlikely I was to match or surpass that number. I was told that 25 wins was “untouchable.”

No one had even come close to matching that total.

Last year, I won my 60th and 61st Moth StorySLAMs alongside 9 GrandSLAM championships.

I knew it was unlikely but not impossible, so I never stopped trying. Never stopped taking the stage and competing.

My new goal is 100 wins.

Also unlikely but not impossible, so I press on.

I knew it was unlikely that Elysha Green would ever date me. She was, in my estimation, a million miles out of my league.

She still is.

She was also engaged to be married when I met her.

Dating her was so unlikely that when I told our principal that we had begun dating — a full year after she had broken off her engagement — he thought it was an April Fool’s joke.

“Like Elysha Green would ever in a million years date Matthew Dicks!” he said to me and laughed as he walked away.

Thirty months later, he would officiate our wedding. In July, we will celebrate 19 years of marriage.

Unlikely but not impossible, so I never gave up hope.

This isn’t to say all of my unlikely dreams have come true.

I know it’s unlikely that one of my solo shows will end up on a Broadway or off-Broadway stage, but I continue to try to make something so undeniable that a Broadway producer can’t help but want it.

I know it’s unlikely that I will lower my golfing handicap to single digits, but I continue to take lessons and practice relentlessly.

I know it’s unlikely that an editor will agree to publish one or more of my picture books — they’ve rejected every one so far —  but I keep writing and pitching them despite the rejections from shortsighted editors who fail to see my genius.

I know it’s unlikely that I will ever tour large theaters across the country with my solo show, but knowing that others have accomplished this goal, I know it’s possible.

I know it’s unlikely that any of my books or screenplays will be turned into actual movies, but it’s not impossible, so I keep writing and pitching.

I know it’s unlikely that my father will ever respond to the letters I send him, but I know it’s not impossible, so I continue to write.

Shakespeare almost certainly knew that it was unlikely but not impossible that his work would be remembered 500 years after his death.

Yet his plays are still being read and produced today, including “Measure for Measure,” which I’m reading right now just for the joy of it.

“Unlikely but not impossible” — the first ingredient in making a dream come true.

What is your favorite form of haptic nostalgia?

Haptic nostalgia: A form of sensory memory specific to touch stimuli that no longer exist in your life or on the planet.

A new term for me.So…What’s your favorite instance of haptic nostalgia—the poignant memory of the physicality of an obsolete thing—like dialing a rotary phone?For me:The shifting of a stick on my many former cars with a manual transmissionThe clunk of the channel changer on an ancient tube TVThe metallic click of the high beam button on the floor of my 1987 Chevy MalibuThe slide and gentle click of the reset button on an Atari 2600The feel of the bend and recoil of a fiberglass pole vaulting pole

Management advice: Don’t talk alcohol

If you’re a boss, manager, director, or leader of any kind, I offer you this suggestion:

Regardless of how difficult or stressful the job, day, or project may be, never suggest or imply to your people that alcohol is necessary or advisable as a means of managing stress.

Statements like:

“I’m going to need a glass or two of wine after this day.”

“This was a tough day, folks, so if you go home and enjoy an adult beverage, I wouldn’t blame you.”

… are stupid things to say because the use of alcohol should never be promoted by a leader for a few reasons:

You may be speaking to someone who is sober and trying to remain sober, so creating a culture where alcohol consumption is normalized and advisable isn’t helpful.Encouraging the use of alcohol in almost any circumstance is foolish.Alcohol is not an effective means of stress reduction. It creates a temporary feeling of relaxation because of it:Slows brain activityLowers inhibitions, thereby reducing stress temporarily.Increases levels of GABA (a calming neurotransmitter).

However, these effects are temporary and only mimic the feelings of actual stress reduction.

Cnsuming alcohol in moderation is perfectly fine (though recent research may indicate otherwise), but consuming alcohol to achieve stress relief is actually harmful to your ability to feel relaxed long-term by:

Increasing anxiety and stress later via “rebound anxiety” as alcohol wears off.Disrupting sleep by lowering overall sleep quality, making you more tired and irritable.Altering brain chemistry, worsening depression and anxiety over time.

Thinking that a glass or two of wine or alcohol of any kind is a cure for the day’s stress is a fool’s errand — a temporary, potentially detrimental solution to a real problem,

If you want to help reduce your employee’s stress levels, real solutions exist:

Suggest exercise. Maybe purchase a membership to a local gym or hire a yoga instructor to teach in the workplace twice a week.Purchase a meditation app for the staff.Create a recommended playlist on Spotify and encourage employees to do the same and listen often.Send your people home an hour early to spend time sitting under a tree or petting a cat. Maybe even purchase an office cat.Send your team to a comedy show or purchase a subscription to “The Onion.”Ensure that your insurance plan includes provisions for mental health and preventative care.

These strategies are healthy, long-term means of actually reducing stress and relaxing without stupidly promoting or encouraging alcohol consumption.

A lot of “Happy birthday” wishes from a lot of strangers

My birthday began less than auspiciously.

Elysha, the kids, and I arrived in West Palm Beach, Florida on Friday night only to find that Easirent — where I made our rental car reservation — was closed.

I had booked the rental for a 10:00 PM pickup, but Easirent closed at 10:00 PM.

An obviously stupid decision by them.

So we took an Uber to our Airbnb, but because we had a boating tour scheduled for early the next morning, I needed to get a car as soon as possible.

Easirent reopened at 7:00 AM, so at 6:30 AM, I took an Uber to the Grand Hilton, where Easirent is located. The Uber driver asked how my day was going, and I told him that it was my birthday and that it hadn’t begun as I had hoped.

As I exited the car, he wished me a happy birthday. My first “Happy birthday!” of the day.

When the Easirent window opened a few minutes later, I was informed that my reservation had been canceled because I had not picked up the car while they were closed the night before.

“Can I book another car?” I asked.

“I can’t book one,” the employee said. “You need to use your phone and our website to make the reservation.”

This is stupid, of course. The person behind the counter at your rental agency should probably be able to rent a car.

But I went online to book another car, only to find they were out of stock. “But you had a car for me through Tuesday,” I said. “I’ll take that car.”

“That car has been rebooked,” he said. “If you take a car, someone with a reservation won’t have a car.”

“Yes!” I said. “Me! I’m the one with a reservation and no car!”

Compounding my frustration was a man beside me telling the employee that his rental experience was “the best ever.” “I’m leaving high marks on your website!” he said.

He was obviously a plant, positioned specifically to annoy me.

So I went back online and booked another car with Alamo. I then ordered a second Uber to take me back to the airport to pick up that car. This Uber driver was a fellow teacher who offered me advice on local attractions and wished me a happy birthday as I exited the vehicle.

My second birthday wish of the day — both from two strangers driving me around town.

When I arrived at the rental counters, they were all closed.

Of course.

Signs indicated that rental cars could be picked up at the facility down the road.

“Please meet shuttles outside to transport you to the rental center,” the placard read.

Fifteen minutes later and no shuttle (or human being) in sight, I called the number on a sign to request a shuttle.

That number was no longer in service.

So, I ordered my third Uber in less than an hour and was driven to the rental facility, where a shuttle bus picked me up to bring me specifically to the Alamo facility.

That’s four different vehicles required to bring me to a single vehicle.

Once I walked through the doors of Alamo, my life improved considerably. Employees quickly processed my rental. When they noticed that it was my birthday, three different people wished me a happy birthday.

A woman named Colleen personally escorted me to the lot and brought me to the car she thought was best.

Before lowering the gate, the woman who checked my paperwork and license noticed my birthday and wished me a happy birthday.

Six birthday wishes from six different strangers, all before 8:00 AM.

Ten minutes later, I had an Egg McMuffin in my belly, a Starbucks coffee for Elysha in the cup holder, and I was on my way to pick up the family.

An hour later, we were aboard a private tour boat on the intercoastal highway, on our way to snorkel off Peanut Island.

A delightful three-hour tour followed by lunch at a lovely restaurant by the water, a dip in the pool and hot tub, and dinner at a fantastic steakhouse, where my meal was free because it was my birthday.

We also ran into a friend and colleague whose classroom is just two doors from mine. Somehow, we had both traveled 1,500 miles from our homes in COnnecticut only to land in the same steakhouse in the same city on the very same day and time.

The world is filled with unexpected coincidences.

Of course, Easirent remains the villain of my story. When I called for my refund later that day, the corporate office told me that the branch where I began my day did not indicate in their system that I had attempted to reinstate my reservation but that no cars were available.

I needed to call that branch and ask them to mark my account correctly before a refund could be made.

This, of course, is stupid—the dumbest, most asinine form of customer service ever designed.

Essentially, the customer service representative said:

“We have a paperwork problem and obvious miscommunication between our branch and the corporate office, but rather than making a phone call and sorting it out for you, you must call to resolve the matter.”

How incredibly stupid. Astoundingly moronic. Cataclysically idiotic.

The customer service representative essentially told me to do Easirent’s own legwork in order to secure my refund.

When I called the branch as instructed, no one answered, of course. I called for more than an hour.

No answer.

I’ll either get my refund within 24 hours or turn this into a case study on horrendous customer service, spreading the word of this stupidity on all my platforms.

I’ll use this story in workshops and talks, write about it online, record a YouTube video about the situation, and post it on social media.

I’ll likely attract a client or two from my insight into this debacle and surely turn Easirent into a pariah for many, so I’ll get my money back one way or another.

It wasn’t a perfect birthday — at least to start — but it was pretty great all around.

Charlie even got to drive the boat.

Harrison Ford’s subtle critique

I like the Jeep commercial starring Harrison Ford – first aired during the Super Bowl — quite a bit.

It’s difficult—perhaps impossible—for brands to take political stands these days, but Ford’s Jeep ad does so beautifully without stepping over a line and causing fragile people of a specific political leaning to throw their little tantrums and boycott a product because criticisms of a leader, movement, or belief are too much for them to take.

Ford is especially effective in this regard when he says:

There are real heroes in the world,
but not in the movies

Real heroes are humble.
They’re not driven by pride.
Pride is a terrible driver.

It’s hard to argue this point. Almost impossible. Yet if you apply this principle — “Real heroes are humble” — to specific political leaders today, you can see how they fail the humility test spectacularly.

In place of humility is self-aggrandizement, constant boasting, and the fabrication of endless lies and deceptions designed to inflate one’s image and sense of self-worth.

It’s not surprising, of course.

Humility requires a strong sense of self.
A healthy ego.
Competency and decency.
The ability to put others before yourself.
The desire to elevate others above yourself.
The capacity to accept criticism absent fear or the desire for retribution.
The silliness to laugh at your own mistakes.

Harrison Ford is right. Real heroes are humble. Not driven by pride.

Pride is a disastrous driver.

I can’t imagine who he might have been speaking about…

In defense of Homework for Life

I teach a lot of things:Long division to fifth gradersStorytelling techniques to corporations
Keynote revision to public speakersManagement strategies to business leadersI’m desperately trying to teach my children how to put dishes in a dishwasher,But the single most important thing I teach is Homework for Life.“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.”― Zadie Smith

Putting an engagement ring in food is stupid

Last week, a woman swallowed her engagement ring after her boyfriend-turned-fiancee asked the restaurant where they were dining to hide the ring in the dessert as a means of surprising her.

I heard this story on “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.”

I went online to read about this act of stupidity and had difficulty finding the story because it’s happened so often that I couldn’t figure out which story “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” was referencing, which only strengthens my point:

Placing an engagement ring in food as a means of proposing marriage to someone is the stupidest means of proposing ever.

Whoever thought of this mornic idea in the first place, and why does it continue today?

It lacks romance of any kind.

It’s gross.

It’s weird.

It’s unnecessary.

Also, apparently, it’s dangerous. People swallow more rings than you could imagine.

Proposing in any restaurant is probably unwise because:

Restaurants come and go, meaning the favorite French restaurant where you chose to propose to your beloved could be a Taco Bell next year, stripping you of the opportunity of revisiting the location or sharing it with future children.It places the person being proposed to in an oddly public station where the people at the tables closest to you are privy to the entire engagement and everything that follows, eliminating any intimacy of the moment.

I proposed to Elysha at the top of the steps in Grand Central Station in New York City, which she once declared her favorite room in the world. While nothing is certain, I suspect that Grand Central will still be around for another century or so.

Two years ago, I returned to the spot of the proposal with Charlie and told him the story.

“Good job, Dad,” he said as he surveyed the view from the stairs.

And yes, our engagement was public. People were all around us as I dropped to one knee, including a police officer who held a book I was carrying while I popped the question, but these were bustling commuters who may have caught a glimpse of the engagement but quickly moved on.

Strangers did not linger beside us as we embraced.

The two dozen friends hidden in the crowd below were soon surrounding us and celebrating, but those are the people who you want beside you after your engagement. Not some random couple four feet away who witnessed one of the most important moments of your life and can now hear everything else you have to say for the next half hour.

Also, Elysha didn’t need to clean the chocolate frosting or caramel toffee off her ring before placing it on her finger.

We don’t put foreign objects in food that someone else will be eating unless we are Russian spies trying to kill Western targets.

Why would anyone think it’s okay to do so when proposing to someone?

TV dinner

A new YouGov survey found that during a typical dinner:

41 percent of respondents talk to people they’re with63 percent watch television28 percent look at their phone16 percent listen to music or podcasts8 percent read6 percent play video games

Dinner seems to be falling apart.

Less than half of the people who eat dinner with another person speak to that person.

This is often referred to as “the dining dead.” Appropriately so.

Also, a whopping 63 percent of people watch television as they eat, and another 28 percent stare at their phones, which is likely worse than TV in so many ways. Some of those percentages probably overlap, meaning a certain segment of Americans are eating, watching TV, and staring at their phones while remaining silent to the person sitting across from them.

The perfect scene for some dystopian nightmare.

Or maybe you think that a majority of Americans staring at screens while remaining silent to their dinner companions isn’t a terrible thing at all. Perhaps this is a perfectly acceptable and even admirable way to spend time with friends and family and food.

Maybe you’re exceedingly happy living in what appears to me as a bleak, post-apocalyptic hellscape.

Of course, mountains of research would seem to indicate otherwise. Data suggests that family mealtimes without screens lead to improved physical and mental health and greater academic performance for children.

Then again, these findings are correlative and not causal. Maybe some other factors are at play.

More importantly:

Maybe all of this data on family meal time is a significant improvement from a decade ago. As disastrous as these numbers appear (at least to me), they may be trending in a positive direction.

Getting better every day.

That’s the tricky thing about statistics:

Without historical context, they only tell you where you are.

Not where you’re going.

Clara’s favorite sentence

It’s 6:30 AM on a Tuesday.

The sun has yet to rise. I’m sitting at my laptop, working on a client document.

Clara is across the room, eating Cheerios and reading a book. She says, “Wow.”

“What?” I ask.

She tells me she’s reading Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House” and has just read a fantastic sentence.

“Read it to me,” I ask.

“Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

I’m impressed.

Not only is it an excellent sentence, but she’s chosen a famous sentence — a sentence recognized as one of the best in the novel and one of Jackson’s very best.

And Shirley Jackson is a brilliant author — someone I read in college repeatedly — and “The Haunting of Hill House” is considered a masterpiece. In addition to this novel, Jackson wrote such classics as the short story “The Lottery” and the novel ” We Have Always Lived in the Castle.”

She’s a serious customer.

Best of all, Clara is reading the book for fun. No one told her to read this 1959 classic. She’s just a reader who loves good books.

More than 25 years ago, I sat in my English classes at Trinity College and had conversations like this with future novelists, poets, and professors of literature,

Maybe a few human resources coordinators, product marketers, and public relations specialists, too.

Not every dream comes true.

But more than a quarter century later, I find myself in a similar conversation with my teenage daughter in the wee hours of the morning.

It’s pretty amazing.

Some things could never be predicted.

I want some plaques

I performed at The Iron Horse in North Hampton last month — my first time in this storied location.

While I was sitting, waiting to take the stage, I noticed this small plaque on the side of a beam beside me.

It’s hard to read in the photo below, but it says:

Anju Soparkar Diggs
loved watching shows from this spot.
Remember her, and enjoy the show!

I love this. We need more of this. Human beings are so easily forgotten. Even when remembered, it’s often only a name and a few benign biographical details.

But Anju Soparkar Diggs? I knew a little about her that night and am happy for it.

I, too, loved watching the show from that spot.

I also found her obituary online. She died in May of 2021. She sounds extraordinary.

So, in the unlikely event I someday die, I want plaques like this, too, placed all over the world on my behalf.

Here are just a few suggestions:

At The Bitter End in New York: “Matthew Dicks loved performing on this stage more than any other.”At the 15th hole at Rockledge Country Club: “Matthew Dicks put more balls into this pond than anywhere else.”In the classroom I’ve occupied for 24 years and counting: “Matthew Dicks spent 24 years in this classroom, making kids laugh and teaching them to be confident and kind.”On the entrance gate to Yawgoog Scout Reservation: “Matthew Dicks spent his boyhood here, and a large part of his heart will always be here.”On the front door at 3 Commonwealth Avenue, Townhouse #1 in Attleboro, MA: “Matthew Dicks lived here with James Bengiovanni in a riotous, joyous home that became known as The Heavy Metal Playhouse. It probably saved his life.”In Grand Central Terminal in New York City: “Matthew Dicks proposed to Elysha at the top of the stairs, and reader, she said yes.”At the top of the castle at the top of Mount Carmel in Hamden, CT: “Matthew Dicks climbed this mountain with a friend named Elysha but came down with his future wife.”At the McDonald’s on Prospect Street in Hartford: “Matthew Dicks spent seven years managing this restaurant, learning more here than any of the colleges he was attending at the time.”At the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York City: “Matthew Dicks told his first story on this stage and unknowingly changed his life forever.”On the steps at the back of Blackstone Millville Regional High School: ” Matthew Dicks asked Laura Marchand — his first love — to be his girlfriend while sitting on these steps and miraculously remained friends until the end of her days.”On the largest tree in from of Wolcott School: “Matthew Dicks and his students spent their pandemic days under this tree, turning a potentially terrible school year into something truly special.”On the front door of our home: “Matthew and Elysha Dicks raised two beautiful children in this sometimes underfurnished, sometimes too small home that was always bursting at the seams with love.”