Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 285

Something to think about as Trump closes our borders to refugees

I'm fairly certain I would hate this person if we met

Falling under the heading "Only in Brooklyn" is this correction from last year:

One person is listening. Perhaps more, but at least one. I'm so pleased.

I was asked by many people on Monday morning about the AFC championship game that I attended on Sunday night. One of the most frequently asked questions was:

"What time did you get home?"

I arrived home on Sunday night around 1:00 AM, but I explained that it was fairly early given the fact that I often arrive home from night games well after 3:00 AM.

Most people have a hard time understanding how I manage this. They also question my sanity when they learn that I will drive to a Moth StorySLAM in Brooklyn, downtown Manhattan, or Boston on a weeknight to maybe tell a five minute story and arrive back home after 1:00 AM.

I have always been a proponent of saying yes when opportunities present themselves, regardless of the sacrifice required.

I am also a proponent of living your life with the perspective of the 100 year old version of yourself.

I know that this advice is good. I know it would make people considerably happier if they followed it. I know that I'm right.

So often, I wonder if anyone is ever listening.

A couple years ago I met a teacher while speaking at her school. Over the past year, she's begun to listen to my advice and take it to heart.

She began by saying yes to taking the stage and telling of a story for Speak Up. This was not an easy thing for her to do, but since then, she's become a Speak Up regular and fan favorite.  

Shortly thereafter, she went to New York and told her first story in a Moth StorySLAM. The next day, she wrote to me about my philosophy of saying yes regardless of the sacrifices required:

"It's the greatest lesson you ever taught me. I'm trying so hard to fight my natural instincts to say no and just say yes. It's annoying how right you always are."

Needless to say I enjoyed that email a lot. 

Last weekend she traveled to Washington, DC to participate in the Woman's March. 

On her way home, she wrote:  

"Learning to live life the Matthew Dicks way. Man, your way is exhausting."

It's true. It can be exhausting. It's not always easy. And it doesn't always work out. Sometimes I drive to Brooklyn for a Moth StorySLAM and never take the stage. Sometimes the Patriots lose a big game, and the long, late night drives home become much more difficult. Sometimes I say yes to something that I must later change to a no when I realize how much I hate it.  

But the willingness to take risks, step outside your comfort zone, brave the elements, forgo sleep, face uncertainty, and suffer possible failure are all superior to a lifetime of regret.

One of the most common regrets expressed by people at the end of their lives, recorded by hospice workers, is this:

I wish that I had let myself be happier.

From Business Insider:

"This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again."

The question people didn't ask me about the AFC championship game (but should've asked me) was this:

What will you remember most about the game?

The list is long. Tom Brady's flea flicker, the way Legarrette Blount carried half of the Steelers team to the goal line, and the huge goal line stand by the Patriots defense will always remain in my mind.

But my favorite part?

Midway through the third period, with the Patriots in the lead, Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" began booming through the stadium during a timeout. The entire stadium became to sing. A second later, the big screens showed Jon Bon Jovi in one of Gillette Stadium's luxury suites, singing along with us. The crowd roared. Bon Jovi raised his hands and began conducting the crowd as if we were his orchestra. When the music stopped as the Steelers broke the huddle, 60,000 people continued to sing a cappella, finishing the song as Pittsburgh ran a play. 

It was a joyous moment. One of the happiest moments I've experienced in a stadium where I have watched games for more than a decade.

Had I been sitting on my couch at home, warm and dry instead of wet and cold, I would've missed that moment, and what a tragedy that would have been.

Perhaps others have tried to adopt the "Matthew Dicks way" over the years. Maybe they've listened to me speak or watched my TED Talks and changed the way they approach life. 

At least one person has, and for today at least, that is enough for me. 

Things about me #5

My longest and best friend, Bengi, and I met behind the counter of a McDonald's restaurant in Milford, MA in 1987. For a moment, he didn't like me, but then we became fast friends and have been side-by-side ever since. 

By 1989, we were living together in a townhouse in Attleboro, MA that we affectionately referred to as The Heavy Metal Playhouse. We would live there for almost four years before Bengi moved to Connecticut for a new job and I became homeless while awaiting trial for a crime I did not commit. 

Eventually I found my way to Connecticut as well. We launched a DJ company in 1997 that still operates today, and we remain the best of friends.

Back in 1989, shortly after moving in together, Bengi and I spent about half an hour in our Attleboro kitchen debating if we should be referred to collectively as "Matty and Bengi" or "Bengi and Matty."

We discussed the merits of each for some time, listing the pros and cons of each. Eventually we decided that "Matty and Bengi" made more sense. The ending sounds of the word "and" and the beginning sounds of "Matty" were too similar and seemed to run into each other when spoken aloud, creating a verbal smudge. The hard constant opening in Bengi served as a break from the "and" and thus prevented this smudging of words.

Needless to say I was pleased, since my name was to come first, but neither of us argued on behalf of ourselves but instead on behalf of the best pairing.

So we became Matty and Bengi, a word combination that was used quite frequently as we hosted raucous parties and met many new people. Years later, when we launched our DJ company, that name combination went back into heavy rotation with our clients and continues to be used quite often today. 

Oftentimes when I hear our names spoken in that familiar combination, I am transported back into that kitchen in Attleboro, MA, with its plastic, floral chairs, scuffed linoleum floors, and the cupboards with our names affixed to the doors.

Two teenagers, just out of high school, living on their own, making important decisions that would echo 28 years into the future.

Psychology of true friends

My friend Andrew - a golfing fanatic - ruptured his Achilles tendon while playing basketball last week. It's going to be a long road to recovery.

Three months in a walking boot. Eighteen months for a full recovery. 

The next golfing season in serious jeopardy.

My friends and I have a sack of golf balls that we pass from player to player depending upon who has won the last round. Bragging rights of sorts. Andrew currently holds the sack after winning the last round of the last season.

I sent a group text alerting my friends to Andrew's injury.

The first response was a statement of empathy. A question about recovery time.

Andrew provided details and expressed his concern over the upcoming golfing season.

I reminded him that I played golf with a separated shoulder one year and told him to suck it up.

A friend warned him against the hazards of contact sports at his advanced age.

Then we asked about the sack. Demanded it back. Reminded him of the rule that if you miss three rounds of golf, the sack must be returned to the group. Forgot his injury entirely. Moved onto more important things. 

When Andrew attempted to insert a injury clause to the bylaws, we told him we'd just get a new sack. A bigger, better sack.

See that? A momentary expression of empathy for a man who will be suffering through 18 months of pain and rehabilitation and perhaps a loss of the thing he loves most, and then we were ready to stick him on an ice flow and push him out to sea. 

This is what friendship is all about. 

The Today Show: Educational television at its best

I no longer wear a necktie unless specifically required to do so. They are ridiculous artifices of the past and literally (and perhaps figuratively) nooses around the neck of anyone who wears one.

If you enjoy wearing ties or like the look, more power to you.

If you are forced to wear a tie but despise them, my condolences. You take at least take solace in the fact that sales of neckties and the wearing of them have both been in a steep decline for the last 20 years. Like the hat that men once wore whenever they left the house, ties will one day be a thing of the past. 

In the past ten years, I have worn a necktie exactly three times: 

My sister-in-law's wedding (I was in the bridal party) and two weddings that I officiated and was specifically asked to wear a suit and tie.

But when I wore ties more often, when working in banks and managing McDonald's restaurants, I had to tie them daily. Oddly, I learned to tie a Windsor knot by watching The Today Show one morning when I was in high school. I happened to own exactly one tie at the time, and being a Boy Scout, I saw the segment as an opportunity to learn a new knot. I grabbed the tie, tossed it around my neck, and followed the steps described on television. 

Two minutes later, I was able to tie my own necktie.

Sesame Street taught me about community and the alphabet. 3-2-1 Contact taught me about science. But it was The Today Show circa 1988 that taught me a practical skill that remained useful to me for many years.   

Though I don't wear neckties anymore, I still tie them often for my students before graduation ceremonies, concerts, and school picture day. A small part of me hates to do it, feeling like I'm helping indoctrinate these kids into this bizarre and dying custom of wrapping patterned polyester around their necks because it supposedly looks good. 

Our President is a sex offender or pretends to be a sex offender.

I have many thoughts on this historic Inauguration Day, but here is one that I will carry with me for the next four years:

Our President - who has not released his tax returns and will violate the Constitution on his first day in office under the emoluments clause - has either admitted to being a sex offender or pretended to be a sex offender. 

If he did what he described, Donald Trump's name would be on a sex offender registry today.

If he was lying about his actions in an attempt to garner the approval of others, Donald Trump thinks that pretending to be a sex offender is an effective means of getting attention.

There is no third explanation for his behavior. It can only be one or the other. 

Donald Trump is either a sex offender or pretended to be one.   

Thankfully, the countdown to the end of his Presidency begins today.

A short-sighted and fairly presumptuous name

I've recently learned that Occidental College received it's name from the fact that it was the western-most institution of higher learning in the United States at the time of its establishment in 1887. 

Occidental (from the root occident) means "the countries or lands of the West" (in contrast to "Oriental," which implies countries or lands of the East).

This strikes me as a short-sighted and fairly presumptuous name, particularly since it is no longer the western-most institution of higher learning. 

Unless you are absolutely sure that no college will ever be established west of your position, naming your college based upon it's far western position is destined to look silly when someone builds something a block father west than you. 

I might know more about education than Trump's nominee for Education Secretary.

Betsy DeVos is Donald Trump's nominee for Education Secretary. Here are some facts that emerged from yesterday's Senate confirmation hearing:

She called the public school systems a "dead end" even though she did not attend a public school, did not send her children to public schools, and never taught in a public school. She has no experience with college financial aid- either from the personal or administrative side.She does not understand the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act.She doesn't know the difference between proficiency and growth as it relates to student learning (an important distinction and a major debate in education today).She supports Trump's plan to rescind gun-free school zones and refuses to say that guns do not belong in schools.She refuses to say that she will enforce the gainful employment rule - a law that prevents fake institutions of higher learning like Trump University from receiving federal dollars.She claimed that her 14 year position as Vice President of family.org, an anti-LGTB organization, was a "clerical error."

I think we deserve a whole lot better than this.  

To her credit, she also acknowledged that the behavior described by Donald Trump on that bus with Billy Bush constitutes sexual assault. I'm sure that if pressed, she would attribute his bragging as "locker room talk" or some other nonsense, but at least she acknowledged that if it actually happened, Trump would be labeled as sex offender. 

The again, we all knew that already.

Find something to be this excited and happy about...

May we all find something that engenders this much excitement and happiness in our lives. 

This dog is my new spirit guide. My first, actually.