Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 293

The mix tape was something special

I overheard a woman telling her friend about a Spotify playlist that her new boyfriend has curated for her. She practically swooned as she rattled through the list of songs. And yes, she used the word "curated."

I rolled my eyes, not because I don't approve of young love or romantic gestures or the power of song. I rolled my eyes because of how easy it is to create a playlist on Spotify. My seven year-old daughter has been making playlists using Spotify for years.

The greatest romantic gestures are the ones that require time, effort, creativity, inspiration, and perseverance. 

Spotify playlists require almost none of these.

But the mix tape required all of these things.

Back in the days before the Internet, MP3 players, and streaming services, there was the mix tape: a compilation of music, typically by different artists, recorded onto a cassette tape and imbued with love.  

The mix tape was one of the greatest romantic gestures of all time. It required the creator to sit beside the radio and listen, waiting for the perfect song to come on, hoping against hope that the goddamn DJ would not speak through the song's opening bars. Mix tapes in the analog age took hours to create. They demanded that the creator make difficult and instantaneous decisions. Space was at a premium. Song choice was often limited and random. There was no means of editing. No way of eliminating gaffs unless you recorded over the last bit with something new.

The mix tape was difficult to make and impossible to do well and therefore the ultimate romantic gesture.

I received mix tapes from two girls in my day.

A girl named Nicki Blais made me a mix tape to listen to on the ride home after spending a weekend in New Hampshire with her. I heard "Smells Like Teen Spirit" for the first time on that tape and feared that my '80's metal bands were doomed. I also heard Trisha Yearwood's "She's In Love With The Boy" for the first time, a song my kids and I still sing to this day.

My high school sweetheart, Laura, made me three mix tapes to listen to while we flew to California with the marching band in separate planes. Laura combined music with spoken word. She told me stories, read poetry, and even sang a little in between songs recorded off the radio. I probably fell in love with her while listening to those tapes somewhere over the Rockies.  

I wish I still had those mix tapes today. They were that precious to me.  

The Spotify playlist is easy and unrememberable. A person could make hundreds of them in no time.  

The mix tape was unforgettable. 

Things I Do #2: I whisper the names of former colleagues

I whisper the names of teachers who once worked in my school as I enter the building each day.
Every day. Without exception. 

These are people who have retired. Moved onto new schools. New careers. New opportunities. After almost 20 years, there are a lot of them.

Many of them are people who were as close and dear to me as anyone ever in my life.
Thankfully, many of them still are. 

Remarkable educators. Good people. The best of friends. 

My wife.

I whisper their names, starting with Elysha. I see them in my mind's eye. I think about the days they spent teaching children inside these brick walls. The laughter we shared. The unforgettable moments. I squeeze as many of them into my mind as possible before slipping through the door and starting a new day. 

I'm basically a walking, talking nostalgia machine that suffers from a permanent state of existential crisis.

The morning after, there is much to do. Much to remember.

This is what I know:

There is an enormous segment of the American public who I do not understand. That's on me. If we are to unite and move forward, I need to understand them better. Find commonality. We all do. 

An enormous segment of the American public voted for an indecent human being yesterday. That's on them, and it always will be. No matter what level of success he may have going forward, his lack of decency will never be in doubt. I may not understand the underlying reasons for the support of his voters, but there is no question about the character of the man who they have elected. He has made his indecency and failure of character abundantly clear.

An enormous segment of the American public also voted for Hillary Clinton yesterday. The overall vote was nearly even. Please remember this if you share my beliefs. It will be easy to feel alone today. Easy to feel like you live in a country populated by people who you can't possibly understand. Remember that fully half of America stands with you in your beliefs.  

I am the saddest for my two children, who had so much hope for today. They were both so happy and so hopeful less than 24 hours ago when we all stood in line to cast our vote. It seemed like such a perfect day. A historic day of light and joy. In less than an hour, they will awake, and I will have to tell them this news. It is the first time as a parent that I do not know what to say to my children. 

I have students who fear our President-elect because of the color of the skin and the way they worship. They have expressed these fears to me. Today will be hard on them. They are afraid of the future leader of their country, and their fear is not unfounded. It is the result of what he and his supporters have said. I must make them feel safer than ever today and all the todays going forward.

I saw this fear last night in Brooklyn as we watched the election results at The Bell House. I saw disappointment and sadness in the faces of so many, but amongst the people of color, the Muslims and the Jews, and the gay and lesbian folks standing with me, there was also real fear. This fear is not unwarranted or unjustified. It is the result of specific things said by our President-elect and his supporters. Be sure to stand by these people today. Help them to feel a little safer.   

America has stood for 240 years. It will continue to stand. We have suffered through indecent, inept, incompetent, crooked leaders before. While I acknowledge that this time is different than any time before, America will continue to stand.

Let this day serve as a clarion call for those who believe that this nation is a land for all people. Remember this moment when it comes time to elect our next leader. We cannot be complacent. We cannot rely on the hard work of others. We cannot sit on the sidelines and think that our vote is enough. We must all pull hard on the rope so that all Americans feel safe and happy and free in this land. 

Tummy or vagina?

Clara's very first words to me on this historic Election Day:

"I know that I came out of Mommy's tummy when I was born, but did Charlie come out of her tummy, too? Or was it her vagina?"

Brave new world, my friends.

And I know exactly what kind of world I want this crazy little girl growing up in.

These are times when your country should come before your brand.

This is not a normal Presidential election. Much is at stake. These are not two serious-minded, highly qualified people with differing opinions about the direction of our country. Donald Trump is the first candidate in my lifetime who was not fit to hold the office of President (or any position in government). If I did not speak out against this ignorant, racist, xenophobic, misogynist in order to curry favor with both sides of the political aisle and sell a few more books, I couldn't live with myself.  

For this reason, I cannot stand to see celebrities - sports figures, TV and movie stars, talk show hosts, musicians - sitting on the sidelines, keenly aware that half of their audience is Republican and conservative and choosing to protect their brand by remaining silent.

This time it's different.

This is why I admire the hell out of celebrities like Beyonce, Jay-Z, Amy Schumer, Justin Timberlake, Bruce Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi, Robert DiNero, Lady Gaga, Colin Powell, George Clooney, Elton John, Brian Cranston, JJ Abrams, Steven Spielberg, Scarlett Johansson, Kerry Washington, Sam Jackson, Jaime Foxx, Stephen Curry, Mark Cuban, and many, many more. These are celebrities who are willing to risk the ire of a large constituency in order to do what is patriotic and right.  

I've never been a fan of Lebron James, but after his avid and active support of Hillary Clinton, I have to admit that even he is growing on me. He may never be a better ballplayer than Michael Jordan, but he might be a better patriot than the man who famously makes donations to both political parties in equal amounts and avoids talking positions on politics whenever possible.

Jordan began his history of sideline sitting in 1990 when he inexplicably chose not to endorse black North Carolina Democrat Harvey Gantt in his Senate race against openly racist incumbent Jesse Helms and has continued to remain relatively silent in terms of politics ever since.    

To his credit, Lebron James hasn't placed his brand ahead of his country, and I admire him for that.

And I love the hell out of this guy, who could probably benefit professionally by walking the middle of the road but has chosen to take a stand as well. 

Brilliantly so. 

Things I Do #1: I routinely offer advice to houseflies

I speak to houseflies.

I warn them that they only have three days in this world. Three days before death. I warn them that they need to make the most of the little time they have.

I'm fairly emphatic about it. 

I urge these tiny creatures to seek out new horizons. Find interesting spots to land. See all that they can see before it's too late.

I've been doing this for years with greater regularity than you might imagine.  

I offer this advice aloud if it's just me and the fly, but on Friday, a friend caught me doing so at the end of the work day. It made me realize that I do a lot of possibly odd but perhaps more normal than I realize things that I have never spoken of or written about before.

So I'm making a list.

I'll share items off my list every now and again. 

Unless it turns out that I really, really shouldn't.

Saturday morning reading material

My daughter spent the first hour of her Saturday morning reading. Her list of subjects included:

A biography of Barack ObamaA nonfiction article on the mystery of the Loch Ness MonsterA biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder (she's reading all of her books with her mother)A short story called Losing Grandpa, which necessitated explanations of strokes and comasA science article on bird beaks from around the world which contained references to DarwinAn Irish folktale that made her laugh

I am in constant awe at how stupid I must have at her age. Blindingly ignorant of almost everything.

I'm also worried that she may know more than me in about nine seconds, and I'll have to fake it until she moves out someday.

Unsatisfying

There is more truth packed into this one minute video than anything I have seen in my entire life. 

I feel terrible for the Chicago Cubs fans, and for good reason.

I'n happy for the Chicago Cubs. Winning the World Series is an incredible feat. 

I'm less happy for Cub fans.

I know this is easy to say (and perhaps ridiculous) coming from a fan of the New York Yankees, but with the winning of the World Series, the Cubs fans have lost their identity. 

Prior to their World Series victory, the Cubs were a much admired, historically snake bitten franchise that couldn't win a championship. They were cursed. Their curse had a name and a backstory. Despite the 108 years of ineptitude, Cub fans stuck by their team and year after year rooted for the seemingly impossible dream. Cubs fans were admired. Revered. Respected.  

But now their team has won. The curse is broken. Their identity as the most diehard, most faithful, and most downtrodden fans in America is gone. They are now fans of just another team who has won the World Series, and they did it with one of the highest team salaries in baseball.

Higher than the Yankees, in fact. 

They are now just another big budget team who wins championships. 

I know. I'm a Yankees fan. I have not waited 108 years for my team to win a championship. I have no right to argue that the Cubs should continue to lose for generations for the sake of identity.. For me, it's been seven years and counting between championships, though to a Yankees fan, it's starting to feel like 108.

But that's my identity. I'm a fan of a team who pays enormous sums of money in the biggest and brightest city in America in order to win championships at all costs. We are the evil empire, and we have embraced that identity. We're supposed to outspend your team. We're supposed to be loud and obnoxious. You're supposed to hate the Yankees and despise their fans.

We get it. And we love it.

But the Cubs?

They aren't supposed to spend more money than the New York Yankees in order to win a championship. In fact, they beat a team in the bottom third of payroll in the league in order to win their title. They spent more than twice as much on their 25 man roster this year than the Indians.

The Cubs have become this year's version of the New York Yankees.

And while Cubs fans are rightfully celebrating today, I wonder how they will feel in a couple years. I have a handful of friends who are Red Sox diehards who have admitted to me that they loved their team more before they won the World Series. After three big budget World Series victories in ten years and the second highest payroll in baseball this year, they acknowledge that their identity and brand is gone. Their diehard status is no longer diehard. They are now the fans of a team that wins World Series championships every now and then.

They have become average. Just a bunch of ordinary fans of a successful baseball team. They might as well cheer for the Marlins. Or the Blue Jays. Or the Chicago White Sox, who won the championship ten years ago.

Just like that other Chicago team that wins championships.  

Sometimes it's more meaningful and memorable to be the underdog. Sometimes it's better to be perpetually disappointed and relentlessly faithful in the face of adversity than to be occasionally euphoric, especially when everyone else around you is occasionally euphoric.  

I know. This sounds terrible coming from a Yankees fan, but we're supposed to be terrible. 

I wish you the best, Cubs fans. I'm happy for you today, but I suspect that I won't be thinking about you and rooting for you very much in the future.

You're just not that special anymore. 

Pulling back the curtain on the translation process

I've been fortunate enough to have my novels translated and published in more than 25 countries around the world. Just this week I heard from readers in Mexico, France, Brazil, and Australia, including two students who are reading Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend in school and one woman who strongly believes that Something Missing must be made into a film.

It was recently optioned again for film, so perhaps she will be proven correct.

But when it comes to the actual translations, I have almost no say over specifics, including the cover art. In the past ten years, I've spoken to translators two or three times in Germany and France when they had questions, but for the most part, I receive a check, and most of the time, I eventually receive the foreign edition of the novel. 

It's a process very much out of my hands.

This is why I enjoyed this video so much. It sort of pulled back the curtain a bit on the process of turning a book written in English into one that can be read by people in countries around the world..

While I have not sold quite as many books as JK Rowling, I'd like to think that translators are making just as many thoughtful decisions as the translators of her novels.