Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 236

Charles Wallace Dicks: Age 6

My son, Charlie, turned six today.

Six years ago (but it feels like 600 years ago), my little boy entered the world. At the time, I wrote extensively about his birth (as I did for my daughter), so today, on his birthday, I offer you a few highlights. 

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Charlie was born via a planned C-section after his sister's emergency C-section three years earlier. With both kids. Elysha was in labor for a considerable period of time before realizing it. 

There were a lot of clues.

Elysha rose from bed at 3:15 AM and ate breakfast at 4:30 AM, which are hours of the morning that Elysha had not seen before or since. 

Then, after Clara and I left for school that morning, Elysha called the vet to make an appointment for our dog, who was suffering from terrible allergies. Licking, scratching, and making us crazy. When the receptionist said that the earliest appointment was three days away, she began crying. The receptionist then offered an earlier appointment, which, in her state of hormone insanity, she declined (creating problems for me later on). After hanging up the phone, she began crying hysterically until finally falling asleep in bed.

Looking back on that phone call, Elysha says this was the moment when she should have known that she was in labor.

When Elysha arrived at the doctor’s office later that morning, she was already three centimeters dilated and 75 percent effaced. 

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Charlie’s timing could not have been better, for a number of reasons.

First, I was at work when I received the call that the time had come. I had just finished my lunch and was minutes away from picking up my students from the cafeteria for an afternoon of teaching. This was to be followed by a district-wide curriculum meeting at Town Hall. Knowing how much I despise meetings, Charlie’s first act in this world was to extricate his father from something that tears at the very fabric of his soul. 

Brilliant.

His early arrival also pleased Elysha. She was not happy with the prospect of another c-section for many reasons, mostly pertaining to the recovery, but she also never liked the idea of planning the birth date for our child. She’s always felt that a baby should be born when her body and the baby decide that the time is right. By coming two days early, Charlie did not allow doctors to choose his birthday. Like most children, he chose it for himself.

The early arrival also eliminated what would have surely been an anxiety-riddled Thursday night prior to the scheduled C-section, as well as the forced starvation that would have been required. Instead, Elysha enjoyed a relaxing Tuesday evening and even had some breakfast on Wednesday morning, not knowing that eight hours later, she would be in surgery, delivering our son.

Among other memorable moments:

Signing the consent form requiring us to acknowledge that surgery can sometimes end in death. Great way to start the birthing process.  

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Elysha went into surgery ahead of me while I waited in an adjacent room. Fathers are never invited into the operating room until the mother is lying on the operating table, strapped down and drugged up. I’m not sure why this is the case, since this seems to be one of the most frightening moments of the process for mothers, but I spent my time, about twenty minutes in all, reading email, checking Twitter, texting friends about the possibility of golf on Sunday, and taking notes on a memoir proposal that I hope to complete this summer.

During the birth of Clara, I actually wrote sections of my second book. Prior to the transition to a c-section, Elysha pushed for four hours, so in between contractions, I would roll across the room and work on the novel. I had less time to write during Charlie’s birth, but I managed to complete the outline of my memoir and add two additional scenes to it.

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When I was finally invited inside the operating room, I was greeted by “Something” by The Beatles, playing on the Pandora station that Elysha had chosen for the delivery. This was the song that Elysha walked down the aisle to six years ago at our wedding, so it seemed like a good omen.

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Charlie was born at 3:09 PM as the song “Turn Turn Turn” was playing in the background. Serendipity at its finest. I’m not sure if we could’ve chosen a more perfect song.

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“It’s a boy!” the doctor proclaimed and I began crying. A nurse explained that they had no tissues but offered me gauze to wipe my eyes. The doctor lifted him over the sheet as the nurse warned him not to “drip on us.” We took our first look at our son.

Someone in the room asked what his name was and my wife shouted, “Charlie!” Her words sounded so happy and so right.

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Charlie was grunting when he was born, a sign that his lungs were not yet clear of fluid, which is common for c-section babies. I was encouraged to hold him upright and pound on his back to make him cry, and when I was not deemed forceful enough, the self-proclaimed “mean” nurse took him away to attempt her own form of cruelty.

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Eventually Charlie was taken to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in order to clear his lungs, and after about thirty minutes, he was returned to us in the recovery room, where Elysha was able to hold him for the first time.

He weighed 7 pounds, 1 ounce. He was 18 inches long.

Today he's a little heavier and a little longer, but he's still perfect. 

Quotation marks create a bizarre mystery

Fresh "Fudge" Tasting?

"Fudge" placed in quotes?

If it's not actually fudge that we are tasting, then what the hell is it?

Speak Up Storytelling: Episode #2 PLUS an opportunity

Episode #2 of our podcast 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 Homework for Life. 

Next, we listen to a story by Michelle Sebastianelli about her hilarious and tragic attempt to transform herself through yoga and discuss the strengths of her story as well as suggestions for improvement.

Finally, we answer listener questions and make some recommendations. 

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 13 people to rate the podcast and four to review it 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. 

We also have an unusual offer for anyone interested:

 Elysha and I are looking to redesign the Speak Up logo, but before we do it ourselves (Elysha designed the first) or hire a professional, we thought we'd invite our audience to take a crack at redesigning it themselves. 

We're looking for a logo that pays homage to our current design but is also fresh, new, and will work well on our website, podcast, programs, and swag like tee shirts and totes. 

If you submit an logo for consideration and it is ultimately chosen, you will receive our undying gratitude, one free beginner or advanced storytelling workshop, two hours of free storytelling consultation, and two free tickets to our Real Art Ways shows FOR LIFE!

We can't wait to see what you submit!

Be a satisficer.

I bought some new golf shoes last summer. 

I was walking through Golf Warehouse with my friend, Plato, when I came upon the shoe department. Sitting on the very front of the department was a pair of waterproof golf shoes.

"I'll take these," I said.

"That's it?" Plato asked incredulously. "You're not going to look at any others? You didn't do any research?"

At his urging, I made a perfunctory examination of the the many options available to me, but about five minutes later, I returned to the first pair I saw. "Nope, these are good."

They've been serving me well ever since.

This has become a source of amusement amongst some of my friends. They scoff at my un-informed purchase and see me as someone who blindly plows through life, grabbing the first shiny object I see. 

"Not so," I say.

Scientists agree.

Researchers in the decision making process have identified two types of decision makers:

Satisficers make a decision once their criteria are met. When they find a hotel or a pizza or a pair of golf shoes that has the qualities they want, they’re satisfied. Although a slightly better version of the product may exist just a few feet away, they stop looking once the minimum requirements have been met.

For me, I wanted waterproof golf shoes in a size 9. Once I found those two qualities in a single shoe, I was done.

Maximizers want to make the best possible decision. Even if they see a bicycle or an apple or a pair of golf shoes that meets their needs, they can’t make a decision until they’ve examined every option. They are the researchers. The comparison shoppers. The folks who prize quality over speed. These are the shoppers who constantly return items to the store after second guessing their decision. 

Here's what the research shows:

Satisficers tend to be happier than maximizers.

According to the research, a lot happier.

Maximizers expend more time and energy reaching decisions, and they’re often anxious about their choices both before and after the decision has been made. They have increased levels of stress, both during the decision making process and overall. 

Satisficers rarely look back on a decision if their minimum requirements were met. They use significantly less time and energy in the decision making process. They tend to exhibit lower levels of stress throughout their lives. 

It's good to be a satisficer.  

Obviously there are times when you want to be a maximizer. Some decisions demand your maximum level of attention and effort. 

Choosing a home
Choosing a spouse.
Planning a vacation.
Deciding on a baseball team to love and support throughout your life. 

These are decisions that can end in disaster if you're not careful.

You could end up as a Red Sox fan vacationing on Staten Island.  

But sometimes, many times, oftentimes, good enough is good enough.

Those golf shoes were good enough. They still are. 

Keyboard

I stepped away from my laptop mid-sentence to use the bathroom. When I returned, the cats were flanking my laptop, and this is what I found. 

Why do they always manage to pick off the most-often-used letters? It's like they know. the best way to hurt me. 

It took me 15 minutes to find the S key.

The world does not want me to finish any of these books. 

It's not all about the sleep

Last night I had the pleasure of addressing the annual meeting of the Cambridge Health Alliance in Cambridge, MA as their featured speaker.

After hearing my bio, I was asked how I manage to be so productive, and as if often the case, almost immediately, someone in the group said, "You must never sleep."

While it's true that I typically sleep 5-6 hours a night (and can sleep a lot less when necessary), it's a mistake to assume that my reduced sleep schedule is the only reason I am productive. There are many, many ways that I make the most of every minute of my day.

My life is filled with productivity hacks. Short-cuts. Routines designed to recaptures seconds, minutes, and hours from my day.

A few months ago, Elysha Dicks and I were watching the biopic of McDonald's founder Ray Kroc. In one scene, the McDonald brothers (the original owners of McDonald's) are demonstrating how they have turned the making of a hamburger into a model of efficiency. Not a single step is wasted. Every move is purposeful. The McDonald brothers were fanatical about streamlining the process as much as possible.

Elysha reached for the remote and paused the movie. "Is this why you are the way you are?"

It's true that I managed McDonald's restaurants throughout high school and college - more than a decade in total. And yes, it's true that the institutional priority of efficiency at McDonald's probably rubbed off on me, but much of my desire to squeeze the most out of every day is the result of motivation.

An keen awareness of the fragility of life. Watch my TED Talk if you want to know more.

So when the person assumed that I never sleep, I did what I've been doing for a while:

I pushed back.

"Yes, it's true that I sleep a couple hours less than most people," I said. "But there's a lot more to it than sleep."

He asked for an example. Knowing that he worked in Boston, I offered this:

The average American spends about 50 minutes commuting per day.

Not only is this relevant to productivity and time, but it's also important because we have an enormous body of research showing that people with longer commutes spend less time exercising and less time sleeping. They have sex less often. They are less happy, more likely to be overweight, and more likely to suffer from high blood pressure

Long hours of commuting, especially if you’re driving, are also associated with increased anger and resentment at work, absenteeism, lateness, and an ability to concentrate and perform to the same standards as those who live in much closer proximity to the workplace.

Long commutes can also increase the risk of heart attacks, flu, and depression.

When I consult with people on productivity, one of the first things I ask is about the length of their commute. If you're losing an hour or more a day getting to work, your levels of personal productivity are highly compromised.

In the last 20 years, I've moved five times between two different towns, but regardless of where I lived, my commute has never been longer than 10 minutes. And for the last 10 years, my commute has been five minutes.

If I spend a total of 50 minutes a week commuting to and from work and you spend five or ten hours a week, I have a lot more time to get things done.

So I asked the man how many minutes per day he spent commuting to work. His answer:

"A little less than an hour. Each way."

My commute for the entire week is HALF of his commute to and from work on a single day.

He spends about 10 hours a week in his car, fighting Boston traffic.

Every single week, I have about 9 hours of free time that he does not.

468 hours per year. Almost 20 full days.

Imagine what you could do with 20 extra days per year...

I realize that the length of your commute is often out of your control, but when Elysha and I were looking for houses to buy, one of our priorities was to keep our commute short. We limited our search to about five different towns, based upon a number of factors, but one of them was the distance between our home and our place of work.

I made sure that I was not wasting needless hours driving to and from work.

It's not all about the sleep. It's many other things. Some big. Some small. Some infinitesimal.

But they all add up.

Morning conversation scares me.

First words from my daughter today:

"Daddy, I noticed the word repair on a bottle next to your bed. Did you know that the r is an r- control syllable exception because the r is supposed to say 'er,' but in this case, it sounds like 'air.' Neat. Huh?"

I'm not sure which is more disconcerting:

That these are the kinds of things that Clara says to me every morning, or that I'm an elementary school teacher and have no idea what the hell she is talking about. 

Which hot dog is best?

Summer is rapidly approaching. This means grilling outdoors and eating lots of my second favorite food in the world:

The hot dog.

On one of our earliest dates, Elysha and I went somewhere for hot dogs, and I discovered that Elysha and I had something monumental in common:

We don't like any condiments on our hot dogs. Plain is preferred. 

I remember thinking, "This is it. We were went to be."

I wasn't wrong. 

Last year The New York Times conducted a hot dog taste test, pitting 10 popular brands against one another for hot dog superiority.

I had issues with this article and their taste test in general. Specifically, they did not conduct a blind taste test. Judges knew what they were eating. How can anyone expect to be objective when they know the brand?

Dumb. 

I also had a beef with some of the results. For example, the two winners:

WELLSHIRE FARMS PREMIUM ALL-NATURAL UNCURED BEEF FRANKS, $7.99 FOR 8 “Smoky, herby — is this fancy?” was Melissa’s immediate response. We all loved its levels of garlic and spice.

I've never tried this particular brand of hot dog, but I have to be honest:

I've never wished for a "garlic and spice" flavor on my hot dog. It sounds awful. I'll make a point of trying one this summer, but this sounds like a hot dog that's trying to be something it's not.   

HEBREW NATIONAL KOSHER BEEF FRANKS, $6.29 FOR 7 “Classic,” Sam declared. “The people’s hot dog.”

This may be true, Sam, but it's not an actual assessment of the taste of the hot dog. Instead, it's evidence that you are not engaged in a blind taste test, and that cultural expectation and previous personal preferences have strongly influenced your perception of the hot dog. 

Sam's assessment is also incorrect. 

I like Hebrew National, too, but both Nathan's Famous Skinless Beef Franks and Oscar Mayer's Classic Wieners outsell Hebrew National by a wide margin, and neither is nearly as expensive.

Not exactly "the people's hot dog."  

The New York Times was taste-testing the kind of hot dog that you grill in the backyard, which is fine, but this also left off two of my favorite hot dogs:

The free hot dogs given out at the fire station after the Fourth of July parade in Monterey, MA, where my in-laws live.

There's something about a parade and a free hot dog that can't be beat.

The 7-11 hot dog, much maligned by people who have never tasted one themselves yet insist on mocking, disparaging, and dismissing these hot dogs because it is beyond their mental capacity to imagine that anything cooked in a convenience store could taste good.

This is a failure of imagination. An inability to see beyond their pre-ordained bubble. An unfortunate and regrettable degree of pretentiousness. A heinous prejudice against something they do not know or understand.

If you've tried a 7-11 hot dog and not enjoyed it, that's fine. Odd but fine. But to simply assume it's not good (and outwardly disparage it) is stupid.

For me, the 7-11 hot dog is tasty, convenient, and always there for me.

It's also a hot dog. My second favorite food. It's hard to screw up.  

 

Want me to find faith in God? Try a sex joke.

As a reluctant atheist, I find myself envious of those who possess an unwavering belief in a benevolent God and an everlasting life. 

I can't imagine how comforting that must be.

For the record, the actual God of The Bible is not exactly benevolent. I've read the book cover to cover three times, and I'm hear to report that the God portrayed in those pages does a lot of things that aren't close to benevolent, but that's an argument for another day.   

Occasionally I will meet people who try to convince me to believe. They share the good news. Assure me that God loves me. Encourage me to embrace a faith in a higher power.

At last night's Def Leppard/Journey concert, they stood on the street corners, warning me that I was about to listen to the devil's music.  

For more than a year, I lived with a family of Jehovah's Witnesses who encouraged me to enter into the ministry. Not only did they want me to believe, but they also recognized my ability to stand before an audience and speak clearly and convincingly, more than 20 years before I would discover this ability myself. 

Sadly, faith cannot be achieved on a cognitive level. You can't simply choose to believe in something that makes no sense to you. The belief in something we cannot see or touch cannot be achieved as easily as flipping a switch.

If you could, I would have done so long, long ago. 

But I will say this:

If you want to convince me to believe in a higher power, I'm far more likely to be drawn to the message of the first church than to the admonitions of the second.  

Threats are stupid. Warnings about the devil will never get anyone to believe in your message. A sign like this only manages to portray yourself as angry, frightened, intolerant, and awful company at a church picnic.  

But combine a little bit of religion with a joke about sex and I might be at least intrigued enough to pop my head into that church to see who was smart and bold enough to approve that clever and amusing sign.   

Speak Up Storytelling: The Podcast available today!

Elysha and I are thrilled to announce THE FIRST EPISODE OF OUR NEW PODCAST SPEAK UP STORYTELLING. 

Unlike most storytelling podcasts, which offer you one or more outstanding stories to listen to and enjoy, our podcast seeks to entertain while also providing some specific, actionable lessons on storytelling.

Each week we will bring our expertise in storytelling to you!  

In every episode, Elysha and I will listen to one of the many stories told and recorded at Speak Up over the last five years, followed by a lesson on storytelling based upon what we just heard. We'll talk about the effective strategies used by the storyteller. We'll offer tips on things like humor, stakes, transitions, suspense, and the ordering of content. We'll also suggest possible revisions to make the story even better.

Whether your goal is to someday take the stage and tell a story or simply to become a better storyteller in the workplace or your social life, this podcast is for you.  

In addition to story and instruction, we will also talk about finding stories in your everyday life, answer listener questions, offer recommendations, and try to make you laugh. We may also interview storytellers from time to time, as well as provide feedback on stories you submit to us. 

You can download the podcast wherever you get your podcasts: Apple Podcasts (iTunes), Stitcher, Overcast, Google Play, or you can listen to the first episode here. 

We'd love to hear what you think about the podcast and any questions you'd like us to answer on the podcast, so please send any questions or comments to speakupstorytelling@gmail.com. 

We would also love for you to rate the show. Ratings help other listeners find the show, so please take one minute to jump over to Apple Podcasts (or wherever you listen) and give us a rating and/or comment. 

This podcast has been a long time in the works. We hope you enjoy!