Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 39

Charlie’s first Patriots game!

I took Charlie to his first Patriots game on Sunday. I had brought him to preseason games before, but this was the first regular season game that he attended.

Also, the home opener, which is always fun.

A few highlights:

Charlie was missing a Little League game to attend the Patriots game, but thanks to an app called Game Changer, he could follow the action on an iPad. As we tailgated with friends, he watched the game—balls, strikes, outs, and runs—as they were happening.

His team won 18-14 in a barn burner.

Last week, I watched the Patriots game on my phone while watching Charlie play in a Little League game.

It’s a brave new world.

Charlie is an aviation enthusiast. He attends an Aerospace Academy during the school day and hopes to one day be a pilot, so the flyover of four F-15s following the national anthem was one of the most exciting moments of the day for him. He spent part of the tailgate also tracking flights overhead thanks to another app and discussing origins, destinations, and aircraft types with one of our fellow tailgaters.

A lot of aviation talk for a football game.

The game went into overtime thanks to a blocked field goal that cost the Patriots three precious points, a miscommunication downfield that led to a Seattle touchdown, and two terrible pass interference calls. During overtime, the Patriots received the ball, failed to score, and punted it back to Seattle.

The Seahawks then marched downfield into field goal position. As they closed in on their game-winning kick, I suggested we leave now to beat the crowd.

“You’ve got to have hope,” Charlie said.

I thought he was crazy, but since it was his first game, I agreed to stay. But as we waited for the field goal to be kicked, I was reminded of a playoff game 12 years ago against the Ravens. Kicker Billy Cundiff missed a chip shot field goal that would’ve sent the game into overtime, thus sending the Patriots to the Super Bowl.

I was in the stadium that day, too, and I had hope as Billy Cundiff kicked that ball, and that hope was rewarded in jubilation. Just because it was a regular season game and our team isn’t nearly as good as it once was doesn’t mean that hope should be abandoned.

So I followed Charlie’s advice. I filled my heart with hope.

Then Jason Myers made the kick to win the game for Seattle.

Still, Charlie was right. Hope is a good thing.

As we left the stadium, we took a long, winding stairwell from the upper deck to the ground floor. As we descended, we passed individuals having difficulty negotiating the stairs, slurring their words, and mindlessly swearing. When we reached the bottom and exited the parking lot, Charlie said, “Well, now I know what a drunk looks like.”

He went on to expound upon the stupidity of public intoxication and the damaging effects of alcohol.

I’ve had friends with children older than mine tell me that as much as I’d like my kids to avoid alcohol until they are much older, it’s inevitable that they will drink at some point in high school — even though both Elysha and I did not drink alcohol while in high school.

I have repeatedly disputed this claim. While it’s possible that my kids might experiment with alcohol, I’ve always held out hope that they might follow in the footsteps of their parents, who avoided alcohol until after high school and barely drink today.

Clara is 15, and based on her current path, I suspect she will avoid alcohol throughout high school, and Charlie might, too. He’s clear-eyed on the subject in a way few people are.

Like Charlie said, I’ve got to have hope.

Despite the disappointing loss, it was a great and glorious day for Charlie and me.

A day, I suspect, that we will always remember.

Laura Dern’s “I told you so.”

Laura Dern — Academy Award, Emmy Award, BAFTA Award, and Golden Globe Award winner — was forced to drop out of UCLA film school at age 17 after being offered the role of Sandy Williams in David Lynch’s 1986 masterpiece “Blue Velvet.”

Dern had already appeared in several films, but “Blue Velvet” was her breakthrough role and launched a career-spanning collaboration with Lynch.

Dern had been on campus for just two days when she was offered the role in “Blue Velvet,” but when she went to speak to the head of her college department about getting a leave of absence so she could make the film, she was told, “Absolutely not.”

After some pestering, the head of UCLA’s film department finally agreed to read the script. When Dern was called back a few days later, she was told that if she left school to make the film, she would no longer be welcome at UCLA.She was also told that surrendering her college career for a film like “Blue Velvet” was insane.So Dern left UCLA to make the film, which scored an Academy Award nomination for Best Director and launched her acting career.Today, if you want to earn a master’s degree in film from UCLA, you must research and write a thesis on one of three films.One of them, of course, is “Blue Velvet.”Success is always the best form of revenge, but the ability to say, “I told you so,” is pretty fabulous, too.Laura Dern has one of the best “I told you so” moments ever.I’m so jealous.

Every moment can’t be a parade

Elysha sent this to me. It made me laugh aloud.

It also worries me.

I encounter people who seem to expect every moment of life to be deep, meaningful, and vibrating with energy when, sometimes, you just need to empty the dishwasher.

Don;t get me wrong:

I’m the biggest believer in making something out of nothing. I look for joy in the tiniest things. I try to extract meaning wherever possible.

I’m relentless in this pursuit.

But every moment can’t be a parade.

Sometimes, we do what needs to be done or do the only thing we can to hopefully make it to the parade someday.

Childhood hobbies return

Writer (and now singer) Marian Schembari writes about the joy of returning to your childhood hobbies. 

Schembari was having a hard time remembering what joy felt like, so she returned to something she loved as a child:

Singing.

She was never very good at it but loved it just the same.

I don’t suffer from this particular joyless affliction — I am relentlessly joyous and constantly cultivate my joy in a multitude of ways — but I can attest to the joy of returning to childhood hobbies.

When the pandemic struck, I was suddenly unable to visit the gym on a daily basis. In need of daily exercise and despising running because I am not a sadist, I turned to my bike, which had been gathering dust in the garage for quite a while.

As a child, I spent my life on my bike. I rode my bike so often that I could ride for miles without touching the handlebars. A simple shift in my weight would steer the bike absent any intervention of hands or arms.

I loved riding my bike.

It didn’t take long for me to love it again during the pandemic, and four years later, I have yet to return to the gym. Instead, I ride a bike every day — often more than once a day. On colder days, evenings, and when time is limited, I ride a stationary bike, but whenever possible, I am on my bike, riding down tree-lined streets just like I did as a kid.

It’s joyous.

I recently purchased a flute in hopes of playing it again as I did as a child. Before switching to the bassoon and the drums in high school, I was a flutist. Though I haven’t played in decades, I remember most of the fingerings and can still produce a sound.

Carnegie Hall is surely next.

I also dream of joining a high school pole vaulting team and attempting to pole vault one more time. My goal would be to clear opening height once again.

I hope to turn this pursuit into a book that chronicles my success or failure.

Riding horses would be pretty great, too. I grew up on a horse farm until my parents divorced, so I spent my first seven or eight years on a horse. A few years ago, Elysha surprised me with a horseback ride, and I fell right back into it, instantly knowing how to move with the horse so we could move as one.

I’d also like to play more basketball — a game I played endlessly as a child. We have a hoop in our driveway, and I dream of the day when Charlie loves the game as much as I do, and we can spend our evenings going toe to toe.

And poker. I need a lot more poker in my life. Charlie is playing with me now and seems to like the game a lot, and I have a game scheduled with friends (and maybe Charlie) for next month.

Marian Schembari is right. Returning to your childhood hobbies can be pretty joyous, even when your life is already filled with joy.

Entitlement stunts growth and produces yucky people

Thanks to privilege and entitlement, those born near or at the finish line often fail to understand how challenging getting there can be. They’ll never know the feeling of standing on the edge of oblivion, forced to make their own way, relying only on their effort, intellect, experience, and force of will.

They’ll never know what it’s like to live without a safety net or a fallback position. They’ll never feel the raw independence of knowing that you alone will determine your future.

As a result, they often don’t work nearly as hard as others, rarely engage in meaningful personal development, fail to develop tenacity and grit, lack empathy for those less fortunate, and rarely reach their full potential.

There is a great deal of research demonstrating this truth, but that research was never needed.

They should’ve invested that money elsewhere.

Anyone who knows anyone who grew up with wealth and privilege — a seemingly endless and everlasting safety net, and parents who carved a clear path ahead for them, rescued them from their own laziness and stupidity, handed them a job, and maybe even launched them into the world with most of their material needs — likely knows someone who is insufferable, arrogant, small-minded, bigoted, lacking confidence and grit, and perhaps worst of all, boring.

These are the people who lack empathy for others. Discount struggle. Believe that playing fields are level. Somehow think that hard work alone will allow anyone to rise to the top.

This is not always the case, of course.

Many people born in privilege are decent, kind, empathetic human beings with perspective and understanding. These are people born on third base with all the advantages that come with wealth and privilege but routinely acknowledge their good fortune, use it to help others, and honor the struggle of those less fortunate.

On some days, however, these more enlightened people seem few and far between. Perhaps it’s because the aeful ones are so much louder. But the reason is simple:

Entitlement often stunts personal and professional development. Clear paths often lead to people who can never clear paths for themselves.

Soft landings result in soft people.

Struggle yields strength. Obstacles produce grit. Challenges result in an interesting life.

The problem as a parent:

How much do you allow your child to struggle? How much help is too much help?

I was homeless for a period of my life. Hungry many times in my life. I was arrested, jailed, and tried for a crime I did not commit. I was the victim of a horrific, violent crime. I put myself through college by managing McDonald’s restaurants full-time while earning degrees at two different colleges simultaneously.

That struggle has helped me immensely. It has given me tenacity and grit that have served me well. I feel fortunate to have faced so many challenges in my past, but I also recognize how easily I could have fallen into darkness.

Had I struggled with addiction, my life might be very different.

Had people not helped me at key moments, things might have turned out very differently.

Had I not been a straight, white, neurotypical American man with no physical disabilities or mental illness — the most genetically and geographically fortunate human being to ever walk the planet — my life would have assuredly been different. Thanks to little more than the luck of genetics and geography, I have managed to avoid racism, sexism, and bigotry of every kind. I was never impacted by discrimination based on any disability or neurodiversity.

I would never wish my struggle upon my children — or anyone else —  yet some struggle is essential.

The question is, “How much?”

Charlie once played an entire baseball season without winning a single game. I’m happy it happened. He learned a great deal that season — perhaps more than any baseball season he has ever played.

I wish I could clear a path for my children, offer them every opportunity to succeed, and come to their rescue at every misfortune.

I suspect I will from time to time. I’ll probably do it quite a bit. I already have.

But not always. And hopefully not too often.

Too often, entitlement and privilege breed misanthropes, malcontents, and monsters.

I see it all the time.

My children need not be hungry and homeless to develop grit, empathy, and a strong work ethic. They need not be victimized by violent crime to develop an appreciation for the preciousness of life. They need not be jailed for a crime they did not commit to understand their own genetic and geographic good fortune.

That is all too much.

I will instead hope for struggle without suffering.
Disappointment without despair.
Failure backed by relentless love.

That is what I hope for my children, even though part of me would prefer pristine and perfect lives for them.

My Eagle Scout service project — I’ve decided to complete it.

Back in 1988, I was in the midst of completing my service project — the final step in becoming an Eagle Scout – when I went through a windshield during a head-on collision.

I was hospitalized for a week — including two surgeries on my legs — and spent the next three months recovering from serious head, leg, and chest injuries. During that time, I turned 18 — the deadline for earning the rank of Eagle Scout.

I had aged out of the possibility of making my childhood dream come true during my recovery.

I was aware of this, of course, so I asked my parents to apply for a waiver, an exemption, or an extension that would allow me to recover and then complete my project.

They told me my request was denied.

For almost 25 years, I was angry with the Boy Scouts of America for denying me the opportunity to achieve my childhood dream. I still loved the organization that, in many ways, helped me become the man I am today and never waivered in my support for their good work. For a time, I served as an assistant Scoutmaster for a local Boy Scout troop, and today, Clara and Charlie are members of Scouting, but I could never understand why they would deny me the opportunity to earn the rank I had dreamed about for so long.

It really was my dream, too. Throughout my time in Scouting, I earned every merit badge I could find — well over the required number to earn the rank of Eagle. I quickly ascended the troop’s leadership ladder, moving from patrol leader to assistant senior patrol leader to senior patrol leader by the age of 14 — the highest level of leadership a boy could attain in a Scout troop. I could tie all the knots, swim all the strokes, pitch all the tents, and perform all the life-saving skills that my first aid merit badge demanded. I hiked for miles, built shelters using only twine and the natural elements, and spent hundreds of nights sleeping outdoors.

Scouting was my passion.

Then a car accident derailed me from attaining my final goal.

For 25 years, I was angry about their decision, and then one day, just a couple of years ago, it hit me:

My parents never requested that waiver or extension.

Why would parents who had never spoken the word “college” to me, never attended a track meet to see me pole vault, never watched me compete in a marching band competition, and nearly missed my high school graduation make the effort required to ask the Boy Scouts of America for an extension.

Two years after this realization, while visiting my former Scoutmaster at a reunion, I asked him about it. He said he had no recollection of the request.

“That was a long time ago, so it’s possible, but I don’t remember one.”

Failing to earn the rank of Eagle Scout is one of the greatest disappointments of my life. I know it sounds silly, but when you dream of something for so long and work so hard to attain a goal, failing to make that dream a reality is devastating.

Though it’s impossible to turn back the clock, and even though I suspect I will always feel disappointed for failing to achieve this goal, I decided to complete the service project I began as a boy to at least bring me some closure and perhaps help me feel a little better about my boyhood failure.

At last, I’m ready to go.

My original service project was beautifying a local cemetery where I had taught my friends—including my former Scoutmaster’s son—to drive.

It’s the cemetery where my mother is buried today.

Rather than returning to my hometown, I have moved the project to my current hometown—Newington, CT—to a cemetery where Charlie and I have wandered many times, examining headstones, exploring history, and planting flags on Memorial Day.

On October 12, from 11:00 AM to 2:00 PM, I’ll complete my Eagle Scout service project by removing the lichen and debris from headstones in Center Cemetery in Newington, CT. The cemetery is located on the corner of Main Street and Cedar Street, directly behind the Congregational Church.

After meeting with the people in charge, they thought that this act of service—maintaining and cleaning the headstones of the deceased—would be especially appreciated.

It’s also something they don’t do as a part of cemetery maintenance, so the work is also needed.

If you’d like to join me in this small act of service — for 15 minutes or three hours — I invite you to join me on October 12 in the cemetery to clean a headstone, clear debris, or simply say hello.

My family will be helping, of course, and I will have all the supplies needed to complete the job, as well as refreshments for anyone volunteering.

I’m excited about this project. I’m thrilled to be finishing something I began 36 years ago. I hope that its completion brings peace to the part of me that remains disappointed in myself and the circumstances that prevented me from making this dream come true many years ago.

Shortcomings and Flaws 2024

More than a decade ago, a reader accused me of being materialistic after I wrote about my lack of a favorite number. The reader specifically criticized me for saying that when it comes to my salary, my favorite number is the largest number possible.

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

Nice friends. Huh?

So began an annual tradition of posting my list of shortcomings and flaws, starting in 2011 (the list only had ten items that year) and continuing for the past 14 years, including this year.

Every year, I review the list for possible additions and deletions, and I allow my friends to add even more items to the list.

I tried to remove these three from the list this year, thinking I’d made significant progress in these areas, but Elysha said no. The three I attempted to remove were the following:

It is hard for me to empathize with adults with difficulties I do not understand or would’ve avoided entirely.I have difficulty putting myself in another person’s shoes. Rather than attempting to understand the person, I envision myself within their context and point out what I would’ve done instead.I am exceptionally hard on myself when I fail to reach a goal or meet a deadline that strikes me as reasonable.

She admitted that I was improving with the first one, but she looked at me like I had lost my mind when I proposed eliminating the third one.

I’ve also added three items to the list, which should have been on the list for a long time:

I can’t hit a driver more than 200 yards, and my average is a paltry 160 yards.I’m exceptionally susceptible to my children’s guilt trips.I am deeply uncomfortable quoting a fair market price for my services and expertise.

I am, however, removing one item from the list:

Despite my loathing of typos, my blog entries contain far too many typos.

Thanks to the combined powers of Grammarly, better blogging software, and a husband and wife team who report on typos, misspellings, and the like — independently but often simultaneously—  my blog entries have been free of many of the typos that once plagued them.

Huzzah. I’m improving.

And so, I offer you, yet again:

Matthew Dicks’s List of Shortcomings and Flaws – 2024

1. I have a limited, albeit expanding palate (though I’d like to stress that my limited palate is not by choice).

2. It is hard for me to empathize with adults who suffer from difficulties I don’t understand or would’ve avoided entirely.

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

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

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

6. Bees kill me dead.

7. I become sullen and inconsolable when the New England Patriots lose a football game they should’ve won.

8. I lack adequate empathy for adults who are not resourceful or are easily overwhelmed.

9. I cannot make the simplest of household or automobile repairs.

10. I eat ice cream too quickly.

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

12. I am exceptionally hard on myself when I fail to reach a goal or meet a deadline that strikes me as reasonable.

13. I drink too much Diet Coke.

14. My dislike for ineffective, inefficient, or poorly planned meetings makes me unproductive, inattentive, and obstructionist.

15. Disorganization and clutter negatively impact my mood, particularly when I cannot control the clutter myself.

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

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

18. I don’t spend enough time with my best friend.

19. I have a difficult time respecting or celebrating someone’s accomplishments if economic privilege, nepotism, or legacy assisted in their success in any way.

20. I believe there are some right and wrong ways of parenting.

21. I love saying, “I told you so” so freaking much.

22. I am far too confrontational in moments when it would be safer and wiser to avoid the confrontation entirely.

23. Rule followers annoy me.

24. I think less of people unwilling to sacrifice sleep or violate a comfort zone to experience something new or potentially memorable.

25. I wrongfully assume that a person’s job performance can be assessed by their ability to speak publicly while performing that job.

26. I can’t hit a drive more than 200 yards, and my average is a paltry 160 yards.

27. I’m exceptionally susceptible to my children’s guilt trips.

28. I am deeply uncomfortable quoting a fair market price for my services and expertise.

Charlie asks good questions

Charlie was reading a book about the wonders of the world:

Pyramids. Great Wall of China. Stonehenge. The Great Barrier Reef. Taj Mahal.

He asked, “Why doesn’t our country have more cool things?”

Before I could point out that he’s personally visited the Statue of Liberty, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Redwood forest, Disney World, Ellis Island, the Empire State Building, the USS Intrepid, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Yankee Stadium, Times Square, nearly every Broadway theater, and nearly every monument in Washington, DC, he asked:

“And why does our country have so many guns?”

I had an answer to that question, but it was not so simple and a lot less joyful.

Not always true but sometimes true

Some problems are complex and require real work to solve.

Many also require the assistance of professionals, such as mental health experts, religious advisors, social workers, and others.

I wouldn’t be living with post-traumatic stress disorder as well as I am today without the intensive intervention of therapists, so I understand the struggle.

But sometimes — perhaps more often than we think — this kind of therapy is all we need.

A company unafraid of taking a stand

I admire a company that isn’t afraid to take a political stand.

Avery Beverages — a local soda company — produced two new sodas for the upcoming election:

None of the Above, which features cartoon images of Trump and Biden, which has become unexpectedly obsolete in its messagingTrump Tonic, featuring a cartoon image of Trump and is notably a “sour grape” soda.

Bold and brilliant. Also unafraid and unabashed.

Bravo, Avery Beverages.