Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 230

Speak Up Storytelling #10: Kristin Budde

Episode #10 of Speak Up Storytelling is now ready for your listening pleasure.

On this week's episode, we talk about finding and crafting stories in your everyday life using my strategy "Homework for Life." I describe how searching for stories in your present day life can unearth moments from the past that you can't believe that you've forgotten. We also discuss how not every storyworthy moment needs to be a full story in order to be useful. 

Next, we listen to a story by Kristin Budde about a day of doctoring gone wrong. Then Elysha and I discuss the strengths of his fantastic story as well as suggestions for improvement.

Finally, we answer a listener question about our marriage and the rules that I establish in my new book Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling. 

If you haven't subscribed to the podcast in Apple podcasts (or wherever you receive your podcasts), please do. And if you haven't rated and/or reviewed the podcast in Apple Podcasts (who are the best people ever), we would love it if you did.

Ratings and reviews help listeners find our podcast easier, and it makes us feel better about ourselves and our work. 

Why a poached egg is funny

I performed in a show in Maine earlier this week called Sound Bites. In addition to telling a story, I also served as the emcee for the evening, introducing storytellers and bantering a bit between stories.

Doing my best Elysha Dicks impression. 

During one of the stories, a storyteller talked about how she can't cook a poached egg. When her story was done, I took the stage and told the storyteller that not only could I not cook a poached egg, but I don't actually know what a poached egg is, which is sadly true. 

The audience roared with laughter.

Later on, I asked myself why.

Why was that funny? I knew it would be funny, and I knew if I delivered it well, it would be really funny, but why? 

I've become a little obsessed with humor recently. Doing standup and constantly being asked in workshops to assist storytellers with being funny, I've become interested in looking closely at what makes things funny.

Here's what I think about my poached egg joke:

I think it's funny because it's a moment of surprising vulnerability. I think it was a combination of unbridled honesty, uncommon authenticity, and a willingness to speak about something that most would not.  

Yes, it's also a self-deprecating comment, which is often funny, but I think it's more than that. 

In that moment, most people don't admit to not knowing what a poached egg is. It's not some rare Tibetan cuisine or a fruit that only grows in the South Seas. It's a poached egg. I've heard about poached eggs all my life, as have most people, and yet I have no idea what that is. Most people would worry about sounding foolish or naive or even dumb to admit this, especially when standing before more than 100 people. When I acknowledge this surprising truth, they laugh. But they don't laugh at me. They laugh at my unexpected vulnerability.

I see this at comedy open mics all the time. A comedian is bombing, but with a minute to go in his set, he says something like, "I didn't realize how silent not laughing can be" or "Thank God I don't have any friends to invite to these disasters" and the audience (mostly comics themselves) roar with laughter. Sometimes they don't even say these comments to the audience. They are speaking almost under their breaths to themselves.

Yet it's the funniest moment in their set. 

Unplanned moments of vulnerability. Unexpected peeks into a comedian's soul.  

Yes, the content is also amusing, and their facility with language is strong, but it's when the comedian drops his guard, ceases his schtick, and stops cracking jokes when we laugh. 

This is why people laughed at my poached egg comment. I was shockingly vulnerable. I said something that most don't say. I spoke to a place in the hearts of the audience where they hide their own shame. Their own poached egg ignorances. I opened that door and let in a little light. Made them feel a little less foolish. Perhaps even a little happier with their own state of being. 

Most important, I made them laugh.

It's not funny that I can't identify a poached egg. It's funny when I tell you that I can't identify a poached egg. 

There's a lot more I could say about comedy, and there is a mountain for me to still learn, but this I know is true:

The best comedians speak the truth. When they say something like, "I was talking to my girlfriend the other night..." they were really talking to their girlfriend the other night. Not the girlfriend of a friend whose story they heard five years ago but have taken on as their own because it's funny.  

They are speaking the truth. Because of this, they have the opportunity to be vulnerable with the audience. Surprisingly, so. With that vulnerability comes the opportunity for a laugh. A big one. A memorable one. One that might even touch the hearts of their audiences, too. 

I love storytelling because I am afforded an opportunity to speak my truth, and when that truth is unfortunate, embarrassing, shameful, or disastrous, even better. People want this. They crave the failures and disappointments. They want to hear about our epic disasters and moments of awkwardness and shame.

Finding someone to brag about themselves in this world is not hard. Finding someone who is willing to tell on themselves is much harder to find. This is why people are drawn to the art and craft of storytelling.

It's honest, authentic, and vulnerable.    

The more unfortunate the moment, the more vulnerability required to tell it. 

Admitting that you have no idea what a poached egg is in front of an audience of 100 people is an act of vulnerability.

It's also funny. For that very reason, I think. 

It's weird that religious folk are so often filled with hate.

I may be a reluctant atheist, but I like this church sign a lot.

It makes me wonder:

How hateful and ignorant must you be to stand against same sex marriage, gender neutral restrooms, and the happiness of my LGBTQ friends because it's what The Bible says while blatantly ignoring so many of The Bible's other clear and specific rules.

Rules like: 

Exodus 21:17: And he that curseth his father, or his mother, shall surely be put to death.

Leviticus 25:44: Your male and female slaves are to be from the nations around you; you may purchase male and female slaves.

Leviticus 19:19 You are to keep my statutes. Do not crossbreed two different kinds of your livestock, sow your fields with two kinds of seed, or put on a garment made of two kinds of material.

That's right. According to The Bible, slavery is perfectly fine (even Jesus never spoke out against it), polyester is forbidden, and just about every child in America should eventually be put to death. 

Of course, these ridiculous rules are ignored by most Christians, whereas the rules forbidding homosexuality should be strictly enforced in the minds of many religious folk, not because The Bible says so, but because they are using The Bible to defend their own personal bigotry.

Opposition to the LGBTQ community and same sex marriage has nothing to do with religion. It's just awful, stupid, self-serving bigots hiding behind their Bibles instead of acknowledging the hatred and ignorance in their hearts.  

In case there was ever a question as to which laws of The Bible should be followed and which can be ignored, Jesus was strikingly clear on this issue, too. When specifically asked:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Mark 12:30-32: Jesus replied: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.

Love thy neighbor. Gay or straight. Cisgender or transgender. Black or white. Mexican or American. Old or young. Muslim, Jew, Christian, or nonbeliever. 

Love your neighbor, damn it. That's it. That's all you need to do.  

That's why I like this sign so much. 

Swimming in a chlorinated pool is just like taking a bath

Elysha and I disagree.

I contend that if you've spent the day swimming in a chlorinated pool, there is no need to take a bath or shower because your skin is perfectly clean. 

Maybe even cleaner than simply taking a bath or shower. Chlorine is, after all, a powerful element. 

Elysha argues that a day of swimming does not constitute time spent in a bathtub, and therefore a bath or shower is still required. She also argues that a shower is important for removing chlorine from the hair because chlorine damages hair, and she argues that chlorine can be a skin irritant, so removing it is also important.

These things may or may not be true, but they are not a part of this argument.

For argument's sake, let us assume that your hair and skin are immune to the possibly harmful effects of chlorine.

My skin and hair apparently are. 

If that's the case, isn't a day spent in a chlorinated pool just as good as 10 minutes spent in a bathtub?

I've done some Googling on this issue, and information is scant. It would appear that experts agree with me providing that the pool is outdoors and in the sun. Apparently indoor pools can become contaminated with bacteria that needs to be removed via bath or shower.

Admittedly, none of the experts seem terribly reliable. so I'm accepting their opinions with a large grain of salt. I've also submitted this question to Every Little Thing, a podcast that finds answers to challenging questions like this, and I've also emailed the question to a professor of chemistry and a doctor who I know. 

None of this is actually important to me. I just think I'm right.

I kind of know that I'm right. 

More importantly, I think this is a good example of how our upbringing can influence our opinions later in life. So many of our routines and beliefs are simply the result of the way our parents structured and managed our childhood.  

My mother never made us take a bath or shower if we had spent the day in the pool. She believed that we were clean, and as a result, I believe this, too.

Elysha spent most of her time swimming in a lake, and as a result, she always took a bath or shower after swimming, so she believes that bathing after swimming is essential. 

There are lots of examples of how our childhoods cause our expectations and routines as adults to differ.

When I was a child, we ate dinner at sometime between 4:30 and 5:00 everyday. When Elysha was a child, she didn't eat dinner until after 6:00. When we came together, one of us needed to adjust our dinnertime expectations.

In this case, I did. I always eat after 6:00.  

The important thing to remember is that one way is not necessarily correct. Both dinnertimes are perfectly valid. I think couples run into problems when one person assumes that their way is the right way, when so often, it's simply a matter of preference and upbringing. 

As long as we respect and honor both ways of doing something, common ground can almost always be found.

But then there are cases when there is an objectively better way of doing something, and I suspect that this chlorinated pool situation is one of them. 

I believe that a chlorinated pool is just as effective at cleaning a human body as a bath or shower. Forgetting issues of hair damage and skin irritation, swimming in a pool is a fine way to keep your body clean. Earlier this month, we spent about five days visiting Elysha's sister and husband, and we spent almost every day in their pool.

I took exactly one shower in those five days and was perfectly fine. 

I await for information from the experts, but until then, any thoughts on our chlorinated pool disagreement?

Goggles

Each of my children own a pair of goggles, and I hate them so very much. 

Most of the children who frolic at the lake where we are spending many of our summer days are wearing goggles, and I despise every pair. 

I did not own goggles when I was growing up. As far as I can recall, no one did. One weirdo owned a clip that pinched his nose shut, but that was it. We all learned to open our eyes underwater - in pools and lakes and even the ocean - and then we moved on. Life was simple. We donned a pair of swim trunks, perhaps remembered a towel, and jumped into the lake. 

I watch these kids - mine included - fidget and fuss with these damn things constantly. They adjust, clean, remove, and replace. They ask parents to tighten or loosen. They become upset when water sneaks through and touches their precious eyeballs.  

It's insane. 

Yesterday I saw a kid crying because he forgot to bring his goggles to the beach. He told his mother he couldn't swim because of this. 

Simplicity. This is what I prize above most things.

It's why I've never owned an umbrella.
It's why I threw out all of my ties.
It's why I wear the same pair of sneakers almost every day of my life.
It's why I've never owned a watch or a single piece of jewelry save my wedding ring. 

Simplicity. Streamline life by requiring as little as possible to get through my day. 

It's why I don't own goggles. It's why I wish my kids didn't own goggles. Every item added to your life complicates your life in some way, so unnecessary and burdensome items like goggles should be avoided at all costs.   

Baby jumping is a real thing, and it's really, really stupid.

It's often considered to be culturally insensitive to criticize specific cultures or religions for rituals, practices, or celebrations that don't align with our own positions or values. 

I think that as long as you're willing to accept the scrutiny and criticism of others without acting like someone has just murdered your family, it's perfectly acceptable to apply the same scrutiny to others. 

For example:

Yes, I sit in a frigid stadium in December, freezing my ass off while watching large men who I have never met but nonetheless love compete in a sport that may cause them permanent brain injuries. But if a player leaves this team to earn more money and a better living on a rival team, it is likely that my undying love for that player will instantly transform to hate.  

Also, my allegiance to this team is purely geographic. Wholly dependent on where my parents lived when I was a child. 

It's so stupid. I'm so stupid.  

See? Be objective about your own insanity, and the you can feel free about pointing out the insanity of others. 

Case in point: El Salto del Colacho. Otherwise known as "the devil's jump" or "baby jumping."

During this annual Spanish festival, men dressed as the Devil in red and yellow suits jump over babies born during the previous twelve months of the year as they lie helplessly on mattresses in the street.

The "devils" hold whips and oversized castanets as they jump over the infant children, because jumping over babies is apparently not frightening enough. 

Look at those photos. Those are real babies, being jumped over by real men dressed up as the devil. 

It's so stupid. Dangerous and insane and stupid. 

At least as stupid as my love for the New England Patriots, and perhaps a little more. 

Mattress PSA

I know it might seem a little odd to purchase a mattress via a homemade sign planted on the corner across the street from a gas station.

And yes, the fact that the creator of this sign felt it necessary to indicate that the mattress was "Brand new!!" might also be a little disconcerting.

And yes, anytime someone indicates that their product "must sell," you can't help but wonder about the reason for this state of apparent desperation.

And yes, the sign admittedly looks like it was made by someone who was fleeing the police and had just seconds to scratch out their message.

But if you need a new mattress (and who doesn't?) this might be just what you were looking for.  

People. Not places or things.

Elysha and I celebrated our anniversary on Sunday by taking the kids to the place where we were married 12 years ago:

The Lord Thompson Manor in Thompson, CT

The kids were so excited to see the place that they have heard about so often, and for Elysha and me, it was a wonderful walk down memory lane. Those memories that burn so brightly in our minds were brought back to life as we toured the building and the grounds. 

As a wedding DJ for more than 20 years, I can firmly attest that there is no better place in Connecticut for a wedding. It is a stunning location where you reside for the weekend with friends and family, and you are catered to constantly. It truly becomes a home away from home, and when it's time to leave on Sunday afternoon, your heart aches for just one more day.

But as I think about the time we spent at the manor on Sunday, and I look back on our wedding day, it turns out that it wasn't the beauty of the manor, its expansive grounds, the fully equipped billiard room, the luxurious beds, the outdoor fireplaces and fire pits, the stunning rock walls that line the property, or any delicious and seemingly endless supply of food that made our day so perfect.

In the end, it was the people.

Ted, our host for the weekend, who met us at the door during our visit on Sunday. Ted is a remarkable human being who wants your wedding weekend to be perfect in every way. When my friends and I were still awake in the early morning hours following the rehearsal dinner, playing poker, Ted appeared with an enormous platter of sandwiches and a huge smile. When I awoke late on Saturday morning for a quick round of golf, Ted greeted me at the door with a sack of every breakfast sandwich known to man. Ted serenaded Elysha and the ladies when they were getting ready. Miraculously had ribbon that perfectly matched the bridesmaids' dresses when a zipper broke. Solved every problem before they were ever brought to our attention.

When I think of The Lord Thompson Manor, I think of Ted. He is the heart and soul of that place.

Plato, our friend and principal at the time, who officiated our wedding so brilliantly. Helped to make our ceremony our own. Plato was the first to greet us after I proposed to Elysha on the top of the staircase in Grand Central Station, charging up two steps at a time in excitement, and he was the first to congratulate us when we were married. I can't imagine a better person to marry us on our day.   

Rob and Andy, friends who played the music so beautifully before and during our ceremony. All Beatles tunes, all performed perfectly for the occasion. 

Bengi and Emily, best man and matron of honor, who stood beside us all weekend, delivered unforgettable speeches, and never stopped smiling. 

Our wedding party. Friends and family who celebrated our marriage and made every moment of the weekend unforgettable. 

Elysha's parents, Barbara and Gerry, who laughed, loved, and danced the weekend away with us. 

All of our friends and family who joined us for our precious day. It was a celebration. A party. A fun filled weekend that I can remember so clearly today because of the love that I felt from each and every one of them. 

The Lord Thompson Manor is the ideal place for a wedding, and I recommend it to every couple I meet. If you're looking for a magical weekend, this is the place for you.

But honestly, Elysha and I could've been married in a Holiday Inn Express and still had a glorious wedding thanks to the people who made our day so special.

It's the people who I always remember first and foremost. The ones working hard to ensure the perfection of the day, and the friends and family who graced us with their happiness and love.

As with most things, the "where" and the "what" are never nearly as important as we think. In the end, it's the "who" that matter the most. Get married at City Hall or in a rundown chapel in Vegas or in your own living room, and if you have the right people around you - the best people - that is what you will remember most.  

We remember the people who made our day so perfect because we have been blessed to know and love and be loved by the best people. 

Those are the stories we tell Clara and Charlie when we talk about our wedding day.  

Listen to smart people plus me

I appeared on two podcasts recently that I really enjoyed. Both are hosted by people who I could talk to forever. 

You can find both podcasts wherever you get your podcasts, or you can click the links below to listen online. 

Slate's The Gist with Mike Pesca 

Mike and I speak about storytelling, film, Bruce Springsteen, and other sundry topics.

Roxanne Coady's "Just the Right Book"

Roxanne, owner of RJ Julia Booksellers, and I have an expansive conversation on storytelling, books, productivity, happiness, and much more. 

Speak Up Storytelling #9: Alan Mackenzie

Episode #9 of Speak Up Storytelling is now ready for your listening pleasure.

On this week's episode, we talk about finding and crafting stories in your everyday life using my strategy "Homework for Life." I describe how doing a deep dive on a particular day of your life can help you find stories and explain how I might tell the story of a friend's move to the west coast. 

Next, we listen to a story by Alan Mackenzie about being the new kid in town in search of friendship and love. Then Elysha and I discuss the strengths of his fantastic story as well as suggestions for improvement.

Finally, we answer a listener question about telling stories to children. 

If you haven't subscribed to the podcast in Apple podcasts (or wherever you receive your podcasts), please do. And if you're not one of the 40 or so people to rate and/or review the podcast in Apple Podcasts (who are the best people ever), we would love it if you did.

Ratings and reviews help listeners find our podcast easier, and it makes us feel better about ourselves and our work.