Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 342

Three siblings. All hit by cars. It's weird. Right?

It occurred to me during a visit with my sister that my brother, my sister, and I have all been hit by cars in our lifetimes.

"That seems a little weird," I said to my wife. "Right?"

"YES," she replied, emphatically. 
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My younger brother, Jeremy, was hit by a car while riding his bike when he was about ten years-old. We were riding home together on a Saturday morning. I was in the lead, about 50 feet ahead of my brother. I looked over my shoulder, checked for oncoming traffic, and turned left onto our street. 

Jeremy assumed that I was checking the traffic for him as well and followed me without looking for himself. He was hit by a car traveling about 40 MPH and thrown off his bike, over the hood of the car, and onto the pavement. He broke his arm, tore open his head, and broke his glasses into two pieces at the bridge. He would later tape his glasses back together in the hospital with medical tape and write the letter J on the tape.

They wouldn't be replaced for more than a year. 

My sister recalls me calling home to let me parents know that Jeremy had been hit and that the ambulance was on the way. When my mother answered the phone, I said, "Mom, I need to talk to Dad." After telling my stepfather what had happened, I warned him not to tell Mom.   
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My sister was hit by a car as an adult while crossing a four lane highway on a Saturday night. Her shoes were found 87 feet from her body. She ended up in a bed and then a wheelchair for more than a year, and she still has screws sticking out of her elbow. 

When she called the police officer who had collected her personal belongings at the scene of the accident, his first response was, "You're still alive?"
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I was hit by a car in a head-on collision with a Mercedes on December 23, 1988. My head went through the windshield but my legs became embedded in parts of the dashboard. I actually died at the scene and was brought back to life in the ambulance.

You can read about my accident in detail here or listen to my onstage version of this story here.

The question that lingers is this:

Is my family incredibly lucky to have suffered so many vehicular impacts and survived, or are we incredibly unlucky to have suffered these accidents in the first place?

I'm honestly not sure.

How to make a reader in one easy, high effective step

My daughter can read. She's six years-old and started first grade yesterday, and that girl can legitimately read books. Hard books. Real books. She can read books that I can't believe she can read. My girl is a reader. And she loves to read. 

And her brother is only three years-old and can't read yet, but the boy loves books, too. He will sit in the car and turn the pages of book after book, as happy as can be. He begs for additional books every night before bed. He stares at the pages with intensity. He loves books and is well on his way to becoming a reader, too.  

Here's the thing:

I didn't do anything to teach her to read, and neither did my wife. We are both elementary school teachers, and yet we have never delivered a reading lesson to our children.. No discussion about vowel sounds or consonant blends or the magic E. No running records or fluency practice. We barely participated in her kindergarten homework last year, but this girl can read. 

As a parent who wants to take credit for everything that my children do well, this is disturbing. My little girl can read, and I'm not responsible.

Then someone reminded me that my wife and I have been reading books to our children before bed every single night of their lives almost without exception, and that we are often reading to our kids during the day as well.

We don't trace the words with our fingers or point out high frequency words or discuss CVC words. We don't ask them to try to read any words. We don't use any of the literacy skills that we learned as elementary school teachers. 

We just read. 

Remarkably, less than half of all Americans do this. A survey in 2013 found that only one-third of American read to their children every night before bed. Children are more likely to be playing video games and watching television before bed than reading. 

I can't believe it.   

PEOPLE! READ TO YOUR CHILDREN!

Sit down for 20-30 minutes before bed every night and read to your kids. Read the same damn books over and over again, even if you can't stand them. Go to libraries and bring home piles of books. Ask your friends and relatives for books. Make sure that the last thing your child does every single night for the first five years of life and beyond is read. 

Somehow, it works. And I should know it works since as a teacher, I know that all the research in the world says it works.

I guess I just never really believed it.

Best of all, the return on investment is enormous. In exchange for 30 meaningful minutes spent with your child every night, you will produce a child who will one day pick up a book and just start reading, seemingly out of the blue. You will produce a reader who learns her grade level sight words by October. You will produce a child who loves books and loves to read so much that she stays up late at night in her bed reading well after you have told her to go to sleep.

I did almost nothing, and I produced a reader. I'm amazing. I'm the best parent ever. I set my child up for lifelong success. I deserve a medal. Two medals. Two medals and a big-ass trophy. 

And all I did was read to my kids.

My wife helped, too. 

The hardest part about my visit to Brazil

So much about my trip to Brazil this summer was outstanding. The people who I met and the places I visited will remain with me forever. 

Here was the hardest part:

These are all photos that Elysha sent to me while I was gone. Constant reminders of the people I love most, half a world away.

Don't get me wrong. I wanted the photos. I needed the photos. But boy did they make my heart ache every day.  

A possibly faceitious question about his penis

I took my three year-old son into a porta-potty. He had to go, and we were desperate.

"Don't touch anything," I warned him as I lifted him onto the seat.

He smiled. "Can I touch my penis?"  

If I didn't know better, I would swear he was being a wise ass. 

Shortcomings and Flaws: 2015

A reader once accused me of being materialistic after I wrote about my lack of a favorite number, specifically criticizing me for saying that when it comes to my salary, my favorite number is the largest number possible.

After refuting the charges of materialism, I acknowledged that I had plenty of other shortcomings and offered to list them in order to appease my angry reader. Then I did. Then I added to the list when friends suggested that I had forgotten a few.

Nice friends. Huh?

So began an annual tradition of posting my list of shortcomings and flaws, starting first in 2011, and continuing in 2012, 2013, and 2014. 

Here is the revised list for 2015. I’ve added six items (the last six) and removed one item from the list, bringing my total to 35.

The item I have removed:

I am incapable of carrying on small talk for any length of time and become extremely irritable and uncomfortable when forced to do so.

I'm quite capable of this now. Surprising but true.  

If you have a suggestion for a flaw or shortcoming that you do not see on the list, please feel free to submit it for review.

Matthew Dicks’s List of Shortcomings and Flaws

1. I have difficulty being agreeable even when the outcome means nothing to me but means a great deal to someone else.

2. I have a limited, albeit expanding palate (though I would like to stress that this is not by choice).

3. I often lack tact, particularly in circumstances in which tact is especially important.

4. I am a below average golfer.

5. It is hard for me to sympathize with adults with difficulties that I do not understand, do not think are worthy of sympathy, and/or are suffering with difficulties that I would have avoided entirely.

6. I have difficulty putting myself in another person’s shoes. Rather than attempting understand the person, I envision myself within their context and point out what I would have done instead.

7. When it comes to argument and debate, I often lack restraint. I will use everything in my arsenal in order to win, even if this means hurting the other person’s feelings in the process.

8. I do many things for the sake of spite.

9. I have an unreasonable fear of needles.

10. I become angry and petulant when told what to wear.

11. Bees kill me dead.

12. I become sullen and inconsolable when the New England Patriots lose a football game.

13. I lack adequate compassion and empathy for adults who are not very smart or resourceful or are easily overwhelmed.

14. I can form strong opinions about things that I possess a limited knowledge of and are inconsequential to me.

15. Field of Dreams makes me cry every time without fail.

16. I am unable to make the simplest of household or automobile repairs.

17. I would rarely change the sheets on my bed if not for my wife.

18. I eat ice cream too quickly.

19. I procrastinate when it comes to tasks that require the use of the telephone.

20. I am uncomfortable and ineffective at haggling for a better price.

21. I am exceptionally hard on myself when I fail to reach a goal or meet a deadline.

22. I take little pleasure in walking.

23. Sharing food in restaurants annoys me.

24. I drink too much Diet Coke.

25. My hatred for meetings of almost any kind cause me to be unproductive, inattentive, and obstructionist.

26. Disorganization and clutter negatively impacts my mood, particularly when I cannot control the clutter myself.

27. I am overly critical of my fellow storytellers, applying my own rules and standards to their performances.

28. I cannot load a dishwasher effectively.

29. I think less of people who nap.

30. I lack patience when it comes to assisting people with technology.

31. I am easily annoyed by the earnestness of adults.

32. I don't spend enough time with my best friend.

33. I have a difficult time respecting someone's accomplishments if they benefited from economic privilege in their life.

34. I believe that there are right and wrong ways of parenting. 

35. I love saying, "I told you so" so freaking much. 

Dirt Mountain

With the entire beach - sand and water and toys - available to them, my children are naturally drawn to the thrill of a pile of dirt.

When in Brazil, go see Judy.

I met a person in Brazil named Judy. If you ever travel to Sao Paulo and need a fascinating person to guide you, Judy is the person to hire. She is a Canadian who has been living in Brazil for almost a decade after having spent the previous decade backpacking solo in more than 40 countries around the world.

Judy is the only person who I have ever met who has stories that rival mine. For every horrific and unbelievable and ridiculous thing that has happened to me, Judy has a similar story to share.

Unfortunately, Judy is also the worst food describer on the planet. When trying to convince me to try acai, she told me that it tasted like earth. "Kind of like dirt. Gritty."

Despite her terrible description, I tried it anyway and liked it. 

Later, when trying to describe a dessert to a friend, she said, "Have you ever wanted Gummi Bears, except you really wanted a healthier version of Gummi Bears?"

"No," I explained. "No one has ever had that thought in all of human history."

Not only was the description ridiculous, but the dessert turned out to be nothing like Gummi Bears, healthy or otherwise.

These are just two of several examples of Judy's problem. I saw it happen over and over again. The woman has no vocabulary when it comes to food. 

But if you're in need of an entertaining guide while in Brazil and can overlook this one glaring flaw, there might be no better person to hire than Judy. I spent a day walking the streets of Vila Madalena with her, taking in the street art and swapping stories about our lives, and over the course of my week in Brazil, she joined me twice for dinner. I always had a good time when I was with her and learned a great deal about the country in the process.

Of course, Judy's not actually a tour guide. In real life, she's a middle school teacher, but since she's also Canadian, she could probably be convinced to escort you through the streets of Sao Paulo if you needed someone to guide you.

Those Canadians are too damn nice for their own good.    

Observations from a week in Brazil

Brazil was only the second country outside the United States that I visited, so some of my observations may apply to many other places and probably do. But in terms of my experiences, here is a list of notable observations from my recent trip to Brazil:

Dessert is a big deal in Brazil. It's eaten after every lunch and dinner. This is not a complaint. The mall is a serious piece of business in Brazil. Brazilians flock to the mall in droves. They are like American teens in the 1980's when it comes to their affinity for the mall. The motorcycles in Sao Paulo are insane daredevils. They weave in and out of traffic like it doesn't exist. I'm told that two motorcyclists die each day in the city.Elevator banks lack a central calling button. You press the button on one of the elevators and then watch all three or four, waiting for one to arrive. Many elevators also have an additional door that swings on a hinge before stepping into the car. I have been told that this is a safety door, but I can't for the life of me figure out how it makes the elevator any safer. Service in Brazil is outstanding. A waiter is standing beside your table for most of your meal.A chair is set aside at restaurants for purses and other bags, because it is considered bad luck to place your bag on the floor. It has something to do with money escaping your bag if it's placed on the ground.There is no Diet Coke in Brazil as far as I can tell. Coke Zero rules the country. American music (in its original English form) is the dominant form of music played in all public locations.American restaurant and retail chains dot the landscape, including Outback Steakhouse, Starbucks, McDonald's, car dealers, and dozens of stores in the mall.When eating pizza in a restaurant, the waiter serves you a slice and then removes the pizza from the table. When you have finished your slice, the waiter returns almost immediately with another slice. It is slightly unnerving how efficient they are.  I ate in a total of nine restaurants during my visit. I saw one female hostess but no female members of the waitstaff. I am not sure if this is the result of a low sample size or evidence of a demographic reality. Many houses are built behind walls in much of Sao Paulo. Many of these walls are topped with electrified wire. It is a reminder that despite its beauty, there is still a great deal of poverty in this country. I am not a fan of shopping of any kind, but the Mercado Municipal in central Sao Paulo turns shopping into art. Stained glass windows and foods of all kinds make it feel as if you are walking through a painting, and the streets outside the Mercado, while slightly wilder than the Mercado's interior, are just as alluring. 

"Hate is a strong word." It's also not so strong a word. So let's stop saying otherwise.

Can we all agree that "Hate is a strong word" is a statement that never needs to be said ever, ever again?

First, it's not exactly a new concept. In fact, it's used so often that it's become a reflexive retort for some people. Yes, we all know that hate is a strong word. We get it. It's not like we're confusing the word with indifferent or disapprove.

Second, even a word as clearly defined as hate has degrees of intensity, and any rationale, reasonable person recognizes this. 

If my friend and I are tied on the last hole of a round of golf, and he hits his tee shot 300 yards straight down the fairway, I might say, "I hate you." 

My friend doesn't say, "Hate is a strong word." He laughs. He smiles. He shrugs his shoulders in false modesty. He understands that I don't really hate him, though in that singular moment, I might.

Yes, hate is a strong word. It's also a not-so-strong word depending upon the context.  

While we're on the subject, I also do not support the insanity of parents and teachers who tell children that they cannot use the word hate in their everyday speech, as if banning the word will ban the emotion behind it.

The more you restrict the use of the word, the more power and desirability that word gains. Sanitizing speech only ensures that the language being sanitized will be used often in the near future. 

Reading & Writing podcast interview

A while ago, I was interviewed by Jeff Rutherford for his Reading & Writing podcast. It's a 30 minute conversation about my writing process, productivity, and many other things.