Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 463

The joy and panic of parenting in 60 seconds

This video, recorded at a local children’s museum, portrays the full spectrum of parental emotions:

Joy, panic, fear, uncertainty, annoyance, struggle and relief.

The trouble with Star Wars is that it was historical fiction

I know. It’s blasphemy to even suggest that there is a flaw in the first Star Wars film.

Still, there was. And it takes place in the first ten words:

In these ten words, George Lucas renders everything we are about to see less immediate and less pressing by the fact that the people and events in his story are ancient history. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Princess Leia have been dead for centuries, if not millennia. They are historical figures, more distant to us than George Washington and Charlemagne. 

Though I may ultimately be drawn into their story, any dangers that they might face are mitigated by the fact that these dangers passed a long time ago.

Thankfully, Star Wars was great enough to overcome this flaw. Even as historical figures, the characters are vivid and enduring. I can still recall sitting on the edge of my seat as Luke Skywalker flew his X-wing fighter through that trench in an effort to destroy the Death Star, even though that battle took place hundreds or thousands of years ago. 

The story and character were good enough for me to forget the opening scroll completely.

Still, it was a mistake. No need to remove the characters and events from the audience any more than necessary.

Also, and perhaps even more egregious, an ellipsis consists of three consecutive dots. Not four.

Did George Lucas fail to hire a copyeditor?  

A perfect couple

Had it been entirely my choice, Elysha and I would’ve stopped at one child.

If I were in charge, Clara would be an only child today.

Needless to say, it would’ve been the biggest mistake of my life. And I’ve made a multitude of enormous mistakes over the course of my lifetime, so that’s saying something.

Should I be trying to be wrong?

A recent argument with a friend came to an end when she said to me, “It’s impossible to talk to you. You always have to be right.”

My response went something like this:

“Would you prefer that I go through life trying to be wrong? Is there some previously undiscovered or super-secret merit in spending one’s life spouting inaccuracies and faulty supposition? Or would my attempts to avoid the truth simply be more convenient for you? Would my attempts at being wrong cause less strain on your meager mental faculties? Might you finally win an argument? My apologies for being a seeker of the truth. A defender of fact. A champion of the righteous. I stand in the light. The Force is with me!”

That’s actually pretty close to what I said, except I said more. But I’m certain that I ended with that last sentence about the Force because I’m always looking for a solid closing sentence for every one of my rants, and that was it.

I was also shouting these words from atop a chair as she stormed from the room, so although I don’t discount the truth in my statement, I admit that sounded like a self-righteous jerk in the process.

But it was worth it.

Two things about this encounter:

1. This is not the first time that someone has told me (often in frustration) that I “have to be right.”

It still makes no sense to me.

I like to think that I have an open mind about most things and am willing to listen to both sides. A friend of mine is fond of saying that intelligent, rationale people can disagree, and I think she’s right.

But in the end, I want to find the truth. My goal is to assume positions that I believe are right and just. When confronted by something other than the truth, I will argue vociferously in its defense.

I find nothing wrong with this. There will be people who will argue that a position of introspection, doubt and intellectual curiosity is better one of absolute certainty, and while I agree in principle, there are moments when one must make a decision and take a side. There are moments when the truth becomes evident and must be defended.

In these instances, it’s true. I want to be right.   

My approach can oftentimes be less than subtle and lacking nuance, so perhaps this is what my friend is actually complaining about, but I find nothing wrong with the desire to be right.

2. Please note the strategy that I used in this encounter, because I believe it is an effective one. When your opponent storms out of the room in the midst of a debate, do not mistake this as surrender. It is an aggressive means of defending one’s position. Oftentimes at a loss for words, opponents will turn to their physicality to continue the fight. When I was younger, this might mean a fist to the face. In a more civilized context, this means turning one’s back and rendering your words meaningless.

It might also be an attempt to rearm for a future encounter. 

Either way, it’s a sign that you are winning. Any cessation of hostilities will only serve to strengthen your opponent if the debate continues at a later time.

In these cases, I always launch into the most ostentatious monologue possible, shouting my words (and in this case mounting a chair) so that my opponent is forced to endure my attack as long as possible. It’s an opportunity for a closing argument. A parting shot. An uninterrupted, indefensible barrage of words that you should take advantage of whenever possible.

My hope is that it is demoralizing for my opponent. Perhaps it’s making a rearmament less likely.

At worst, it’s incredibly fun.

“Dinosaurs lived with people” violates the basic human right of not being stupid.

This is an actual science test given to fourth graders in South Carolina. I consider it a human right’s violation.

Every nine-year-old child has the right to not be stupid. I believe that the  teachers administering this test are violating this basic human right.

The fact that children are being taught like this is a national tragedy, and I believe it goes a long way in explaining why one in five Americans are now non-believers.

You simply cannot hang your religion’s principles on faulty and ludicrous science and expect rationale people to continue believing. You may indoctrinate the lowest common denominator, but the thoughtful, intelligent and (worst of all) curious people will see something like this and run away as quickly as possible.

Ducklings versus a speeding motorist

I love this.

Not only does the man in this video have his priorities straight, but he has allowed this potentially embarrassing video to go forth into the world.

As a person who was arrested and tried for a crime he did not commit, my trust in police officers is not what it used to be. As much as I honor and respect the job that they do, they also scare the hell out of me.

Moments like this go a long way in mitigating that fear.

A perfect example of how my disputatious mind works

So it turns out that some of my closest friends were highly amused by my surprise in discovering that my wife (and my arch nemesis) think I’m a know-it-all.

Apparently they feel similarly.

Finding myself in the position now where some of my closest friends and family members are in agreement over this issue, my next move is simple:

Accept the know-it-all label and find a way to justify, legitimize and ultimately celebrate the label.

Strip away the negative connotations associated with the phrase and demonstrate the value and prestige of know-it-all status. 

My wife made the case for my know-it-all status by saying, “You do know a lot, honey.”

I think I’ll start there. Knowing a lot is a good thing. Maybe even a great thing.

I’ll begin my work with that premise. 

I should probably update my list of shortcomings, too. It’s apparently in need of revision.

How To Be A Grownup In 10 Steps (revised)

Kelly Williams Brown’s book Adulting: How to Become a Grown-Up in 468 Easy(ish) Steps is reportedly “the most helpful guide to becoming a successful adult you’ll ever find.”

Publisher’s Weekly recently offered ten steps from her book to get you started.

I decided to create my own list, and after some reader feedback, I have revised my original list, eliminating items, revising others and adding new items. 

I received many suggestions for additions and changes to this list, and my apologies if your suggestion didn’t make the cut. If I was writing a book with 468 steps, all of your  suggestions would be on my list. Instead, I chose to keep my list to an even ten.

How To Be A Grownup in 10 Steps According to Matthew Dicks

1. Never speak poorly of a person’s physical appearance. This includes references to a person’s weight and choice of clothing.

2. Make every effort to arrive on time for all things.

3. Drive safely at all times. Many lives depend upon it. 

4. Never judge a person based upon the quality (or absence) of their gift.

5. Spend more time reading than watching television.

6. Let go of the expectation that life should be fair and equitable.

7. Seek to identify and acknowledge your weaknesses and faults.

8. Regardless of your circumstances, be an outstanding role model whenever you are in the presence of children.

9. Doubt all things. Avoid blind acceptance at all costs.   

10. Remember that there not everyone’s brain is like yours. Others may be geniuses, impaired, chemically unstable or damaged. Assume nothing and be gentle with your words and actions.

Butterfly Kisses is not cheesy, damn it.

Butterfly Kisses, a song by Bob Carlisle, was released in 1997, the same year I became a wedding DJ.  I’ve been playing that song for fathers and daughters ever since, and I have always thought the song was incredibly cheesy.

Last night I watched a bride dance with her father to the song. He had chosen the song and had kept his choice a secret until I announced it.

As I stood on the edge of the dance floor, clipboard in hand, waiting to introduce the groom and his mother onto the dance floor, I started listening to the song, paying attention to the lyrics and thinking about my own daughter, Clara.

It was the combination of dust and pollen that generated the tears in my eyes last night, but as I wiped them away, I realized how stupid and wrong I have been for the last sixteen years.

It turns out that Butterfly Kisses is not a cheesy song at all. Not in the slightest. 

The bar for demonstrating support of my work has officially been set.

An email sent to me from a reader yesterday included this sentence:

I handed out 15 of your books at a fundraiser last night. And I personally autographed them with my name, which everyone was delighted by.

Fifteen books is great.

Even better was her decision to follow in my shoes by signing other people’s books.

Let this a lesson to you all. The bar for demonstrating support of my work has officially been set.