Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 52

Maher’s questions plus a couple of my own

Bill Maher is a comedian I like very much because he says things I love and hate.

Sometimes, I agree with him entirely.

Other times, I think he’s wrongheaded and dumb.

But I like that. I enjoy being challenged. I think opposition to my ideas is healthy and productive.

Unlike so many people who seem to be living in the world today, I’m not so prickly and thin-skinned to require a fainting couch when someone says something that I think is incorrect or shortsighted or even offensive.

I like disagreement. I believe intellectual conflict is healthy. I would never seek to silence a person, shout them down, or prevent them from speaking at my institution because I find their views abhorrent.

I would either listen to possibly learn or simply not attend.

With all that said, Maher offered a list of questions recently he thought the protesters on college campuses should consider as they issued their demands, threatened fellow students, and chanted their slogans.

I liked the list a lot.

Maher said:

1. Is the most critical thing in my life something I hadn’t heard of six months ago?

2. Do I know what I’m talking about?

3. Am I here for the cause, or is the cause here to bring you me?

I especially like his first question. Truer words have never been spoken.

I want to add two additional questions to Maher’s list.

1. Why do I care so much about this particular cause while ignoring other similar or nearly identical causes?

2. Is this cause important enough to consistently occupy my time and energy, or will I be taking time off because it’s only important enough to occupy my time when it’s also convenient for me?

This isn’t meant to imply any position on any particular issue. I’m only suggesting that before anyone takes a position and decides to disrupt institutions, infrastructure, and the lives of individuals to affect change, they might want to ask themselves these questions first.

Rationale and reasoning are important.

Why Elysha fell in love with me

Years ago, someone asked my wife, Elysha, when she first started falling in love with me.

Thankfully, I was standing beside her when this question was asked.

My assumption, of course, was that she took one look at me, swooned, and fell head over heels in love.

This, it turns out, was not the case. 

“I think I first started falling for him at Chilli’s,” Elysha said.

Not exactly what I was expected or even wanted to hear.

We were both teaching elementary school at the time, one door apart. We were colleagues and friends, but we weren’t yet dating. I already had an enormous crush on Elysha, but I had assumed from the moment we first met that she was way out of my league. 

I still feel this way from time to time today. Actually, a lot of people do. Last year, in the midst of a math lesson, one of my students said, “No offense, Mr. Dicks, but with all the people in the world, why would your wife choose you?”

In the middle of my math lesson!

Even ten-year-old kids think she’s out of my league.

On the night in question, Elysha and I were waiting to attend the school’s annual talent show. I was going to appear in a skit that would conclude with a student pouring a vat of oatmeal over my head.

Elysha was wisely sticking around to watch.

“Want to get some dinner?” she asked. 

I agreed. I was thrilled. 

Chilli’s was nearby. Not exactly the place to take a girl on a first date, but this wasn’t a date. Just two coworkers and friends grabbing a bite before a show. 

During that dinner, Elysha asked me questions, and I answered them with a story, which is what I always do.

I told stories about my childhood, the years when I was homeless, jailed, and facing prison time. I told stories about college, managing McDonald’s restaurants, my friends, and my family.

Ask me a question. I tell you a story. Even to this day. 

“That was the night I first started falling in love with Matt,” Elysha said. “I knew I had never met anyone like him. His stories made it clear that he was different from any other person I’d ever met. I thought I’d never be bored if I was with him, and we’d never run out of things to say to each other.”

Did you catch that?

Storytelling landed me the best spouse in the world.

The stories I told that night told Elysha who I was and who I would be. Storytelling convinced her that I was an entertaining and interesting human being. My stories made her believe that I was someone worthy of spending her life alongside. 

Elysha is a beautiful, intelligent, kind, and incredibly funny person. She’s genuinely popular and exceptionally well-liked. Yet she chose me, in part, because I was willing and able to tell her vulnerable, entertaining stories about my life. 

“I can’t believe you never told me that,” I said to Elysha after revealing the truth about that night in Chilli’s. “Storytelling made you swoon? That would’ve been great for my brand!”

“I’m not in the business of building your brand,” she said.

Rightfully so. 

But when it comes to romance, you can swipe left and right, or you can find a way to connect with someone meaningfully and deeply by telling a story. Sharing of yourself. Making yourself known to another person. 

You can swim in the shallow end of the pool, afraid to be open, vulnerable, and revealing, or you can brave the deep waters and be real, honest, and vulnerable with another person. 

If you find yourself on a first (or second) (or even third) date, may I suggest that you tell some stories? And spare your date your stories about your brilliant exploits and heroic deeds. Instead, share stories about struggle, embarrassment, foolishness, and stupidity.

The kinds of stories that demonstrate strength, confidence, depth, and courage.

Be brave enough, bold enough, and wise enough to open your heart and mind and perhaps find love.

That would be the greatest story of all.

Laundry disaster

Not only were there nine unmatched socks in Charlie’s laundry basket, but there were also no matched pairs.

Just nine random socks.

How is this even possible?

Father’s Day joy and outrage

My Father’s Day was all I could have ever wanted.

Also slightly disappointing.

My best version of Father’s Day would be one filled with nonstop fun, and that was certainly the case for me.

It started at sunrise with nine holes of golf with my friends. I didn’t play great, but I didn’t play poorly either. I beat two friends and came within a stroke of beating the third.

More importantly, we had a lot of fun. Laughter and stories and the occasional groan. Great fun for all.

Then, my family and I went to brunch at a favorite spot before heading to the Dunkin Donuts Stadium to watch the Double-A Hartford Yard Goats play the Akron Rubber Ducks on a perfect summer day. The Yard Goats won 1-0 in a nail-biter, and after the game, Charlie and I ran the bases.

Then we were off to a favorite ice cream shop, followed by another nine holes of golf with Charlie. On the last hole, Charlie hit his drive alongside the green, chipped onto the fringe, and then put the ball in the hole for the first birdie of his life.

He’s never even had a par.

We celebrated the hell out of the moment.

I also had a birdie putt on the hole that I missed, meaning Charlie also beat me on a hole for the first time.

A great moment for him and me.

I finished the day with a bike ride before watching a movie with the family.

My kind of Father’s Day. Non-stop fun.

But not every moment was ideal.

As we entered the restaurant for brunch, we found ourselves behind a couple – presumably a mother and father – with three small children under the age of eight. In the mother’s arms was a neat stack of iPads, enclosed in child-proof cases, ready for the children.

I hoped and prayed not to be seated beside this disaster.

Instead, we found ourselves on the other side of the restaurant beside a couple whose older child – probably about seven – was watching something on an iPad while their younger child was playing with a phone. Elysha had to lean over and ask the couple if they could turn down the volume on the iPad so we could enjoy our meal.

What the hell are people thinking?

Seriously. WHAT THE HELL ARE PEOPLE THINKING?

As an educator, I also couldn’t help but think:

“These kids eventually find their way into our schools, where dysregulation, distraction, and defiance are rising. Where teachers are forced to fight for attention and engagement every day. And we wonder why.”

Later, while standing in line to run the bases with Charlie, I found myself standing in front of another couple and their weeping son. He had apparently run ahead of his parents, momentarily disappearing from sight, which upset the father. In response, he was laying into his son relentlessly, harping on his son’s mistake again and again, causing the boy to cry more and more.

This eventually shifted into a fight between the man and his wife, who thought her husband needed to “Knock it off.”

“This isn’t the time,” she whispered.

“You’ve made your point,” she added.

“It’s Father’s Day,” she reminded him.

Rather than rethinking his decision and standing down, he turned his ire at his wife, telling her how unsupportive and ridiculous she was behaving. In response, she immediately disengaged from him, becoming a silent receptacle for his anger.

All of this caused their son to cry even more. All of this right before they were to step onto the field to run the bases on Father’s Day.

Just before it was their turn to step onto the field, the father said, “I’m not doing this,” and walked away, leaving his wife to run the bases on what had been branded as a “Father-Son Baseball Run.”

Charlie caught the last bit of this particular fight. Just before we stepped onto the field, he said, “I’m really happy you’re my father.”

“Me, too,” I said, and I meant it. The thought of Charlie staring at screens in restaurants, being publicly shamed for becoming overly excited about running the bases at a baseball game, or watching his parents go to war over a parenting disagreement would break my heart.

It broke my heart for those kids who weren’t mine but deserved better.

The Boston Celtics are world champions, and I was there to watch it happen

I’ve been very fortunate as a serious sports fan. In my lifetime, I’ve been lucky enough to watch:

Six New England Patriots Super Bowl championships

Seven New York Yankees World Series championships

One Boston Bruins Stanley Cup championship

And up until last night, four Boston Celtics NBA championships

The Yankees and Celtics won other championships in my lifetime, but I was too young to enjoy those.

I’ve also witnessed eight AFC Championships victories in Gillette Stadium. Still, I’ve never had the joy of watching one of my favorite teams win a championship in person until last night.

Thanks to a boss who wouldn’t give my friend’s son the day off, they had an extra ticket to the game last night, so I was lucky enough to watch the Celtics win their 18th championship in the Garden in the company of friends and my former student.

It was one of those nights that you never forget—a joyous, uproarious, electric, raucous, festive night of victory and celebration.

When Paytton Prichard hit a three-pointer from half court as the buzzer sounded, ending the first half, the crowd went wild.

I don’t know if I’ve ever heard the Boston Garden so loud.

Added to the joy of this championship was my love for this particular team. I’ve watched nearly every game this 2023-2024 season, and Charlie and I attended games in person throughout the season.

It was his first time watching professional basketball live.

Many an evening was spent watching the Celtics play on TV as I texted about the game with my friend, falling increasingly in love with the team as the season went on.

I watched one playoff game on a flight back to Boston. The screen was small, but the plane – filled mainly with Boston fans – was going as wild as possible at 32,000 feet.

Even the long walk back to my friend’s apartment was fun. The streets were filled with Celtics fans, and happily, thankfully, I didn’t witness one moment of overly exuberant celebration.

Celtics fans were ecstatic, but they did behave like monsters.

Twenty championships in 52 years is pretty good. A championship every 2.7 years.

Probably better than most people.

Lucky me. I’ve been fortunate enough to celebrate many sports championships in my lifetime, including my own Little League and high school track and field championships.

But I will remember this night for the rest of my life.

Witnessing your favorite team win a championship requires many  stars to align:

You need to love a sports team enough to care about them winning and losingYour team needs to be good enough to survive the playoffs to the championship game or roundUnless you’re traveling to the opponent’s city, your team needs to be playing for the championship on their home turfIn the case of baseball, hockey, and basketball, you need to attend the game in which the championship is actually decided.Your team needs to win that game.

If the Celtics had won their previous game, I would’ve celebrated the championship in an Atlanta airport sports bar amongst strangers.

Had the Celtics lost last night, I would’ve celebrated their championship from the comfort of my couch alongside Charlie.

I needed the Celtics to win the first three games of the series, then lose game four so they could return to Boston to claim their championship on the night I happened to be in attendance.

Happily, that happened.

You also need to somehow acquire tickets. If you’re a season ticket holder, that’s easy, unless you’re an NFL season ticket holder like myself. Those season tickets will only get you as far as the AFC championship game.

Super Bowl tickets, plus travel and lodging in the host city, are an additional, considerable hurdle.

For me, I needed some know-nothing monster of a boss to refuse to grant my former student the day off so they could attend a Boston Celtics championship game, thus allowing me to sit in a seat originally designated for him.

The stars were aligned last night for the Boston Celtics and me. It was an incredible night of sport and celebration that I will never forget.

Despite less than three hours of sleep, I woke up this morning smiling.

I’ll miss my friends

Today is the first of my summer vacation.

The school year ended last Thursday, but after dismissing my students at the end of the day, I drove for two hours straight to Logan Airport, where I took off for Arizona, where I was speaking on Friday morning.

Then, I returned to the airport and flew home, landing in Boston at 2:00 AM on Saturday.

I was in bed by 4:30 AM  and up again at 7:30 AM, so today is the first day that feels like a vacation for me.

Despite that, I find myself thinking about my students. Partly, it’s because of the thank you notes and letters that I will be writing to them over the next week, but mostly, it’s because our family will never be together again.

I love summer vacation, but it comes at a great price—people who know me almost as well as anyone else are no longer in my life.

In addition to the last day of school being incredibly hard, it’s also often hilarious.

This year was no exception.

A few memorable moments:

Saying goodbye to a student in the company of his parents, one student said to me, “When you’re dead, Mr. Dicks, I’ll still be thinking of you.”

“Who says I’m dying first?” I asked. “I’m indestructible.”

“Well, then,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you in hell, Mr. Dicks.”

“No,” I said. “I’ll see you in hell.”

His mother, watching this back and forth unfold,  said, “You two have the strangest relationship.”

I also received a couple of amusing emails on the last day of school from a student. Two particularly funny:

_______________________________

Dear Mr. Dicks,

I will miss you very much. I will probably cry a lot today but try not to make fun of me even though that is very difficult for you._______________________________

Dear Mr. Dicks,

Thank you for preparing us for middle school so well. We didn’t make it easy, but that was because we love you and enjoy watching you suffer, too.

You taught us well.
_______________________________

You can see why it’s so hard to say goodbye.

Father’s Day gifts I won’t actually use

Of CNN’s “60 practical Father’s Day gifts that your dad will actually use,” I would use exactly four, and I already own three:

Battery organizer storage caseElectronic cable organizerMartini golf tees

The one I would actually use and don’t own:

Zero gravity lounge chair

The other 56 items—tools, cooking implements, camping gear, personal grooming devices, and at least a dozen items related to the brewing and consumption of coffee and alcohol—do not appeal to me.

When you declare a list to be “60 practical Father’s Day gifts that your dad will actually use,” and I only want about 6% of the items, it makes me wonder what’s wrong with me.

Happy Father’s Day everyone.

Reminders about Jesus

As I listen to politicians lean on their belief in Jesus to defend their horrendous policies and beliefs and advocate for Christian nationalism, I thought I’d mention a few facts about the man, at least according to their primary source document:

The Bible

I’m admittedly not religious, but I’ve read the Bible many times, cover to cover, so I know a little bit. You, too, can read about Jesus, and you don’t even need to read the whole Bible to do so. The books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John cover the life of Jesus, and they make up a tiny percentage of the Bible, so reading them won’t take long. And unlike the books of Ezekiel and Revelations, they are fairly easy to read.

Important facts about Jesus:

Jesus was Jewish.

He was very much a socialist—absolutely an anti-capitalist.

Jesus was homeless—a refugee, in fact, not unlike asylum seekers at the US border.

He was anti-death penalty. Anti-school prayer. Anti-violence.

He strongly opposed the accumulation of wealth.

He never spoke a word about homosexuality or same-sex marriage.

Also, Jesus was also not white. He was a brown-skinned Middle Easterner who wore sandals to the dinner table and hung out with tax collectors and sex workers.

Also, unlike our former Vice President, he could dine alone with a woman who was not his wife.

New competitions

If you want to be the best at something but can’t seem to hit a baseball far enough, run fast enough, solve a Rubik’s Cube quickly enough, putt accurately enough, or consume enough hot dogs in ten minutes to be crowned world champion, how about trying (or even inventing) a newer, lesser-known competition like:

CarJitsu or Fast Draw.

Two sports that I didn’t know existed until a week ago that might offer more fertile ground for a newcomer.

The world is a strange and wondrous place.

 

Pride Month is full of pride

It’s Pride Month:

It is a month-long occasion for celebrating the LGBTQ+ culture and raising awareness of their rights and history.

Two days ago, as I stood onstage at my school, speaking to the student body, I could see a Pride flag waving on the front lawn just below the American flag.

A few hours later, as I drove Charlie to his Little League game, I saw Pride flags displayed at the fire department, the police department, Town Hall, and several homes.

Two people at the baseball game wore shirts with Pride flags emblazoned on them.

Between innings, I checked for New England Patriots news and saw an Instagram post of Gillette Stadium with a Pride flag on display on the big screen.

I have friends who are gay. Some are married. The parents of some of my students are gay. I’m certain that bigotry still exists in my community, but I don’t often see it and rarely hear it because, in my community, my state, and even the New England region, LGBYQ rights are perceived as human rights, and members of the LGBTQ community are simply members of the community.

The majority of people in my community support Pride Month and all that it represents, which forces the bigots into the shadows lest they out themselves for who they really are.

This isn’t the case in all parts of our country.

It’s befuddling and heartbreaking to think that in some places in America, the thought of an elementary school or a police station or a football team flying a Pride flag would be a cause for debate and even disgust.

But geography really matters. Certain regions of our country are still dominated by hatred, bigotry, and intolerance. It would be exceedingly difficult in places in America to fly a Pride flag, marry someone of the same sex, or express your gender in a way that feels right for you without facing bigotry on a regular basis.

Just this week, the wife of a Supreme Court justice was caught on tape openly fantasizing about flying an anti-pride flag with the Italian word for “Shame” surrounded by flames

“I want a Sacred Heart of Jesus flag because I have to look across the lagoon at the Pride flag for the next month.”

Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito is married to a hateful, vengeful bigot.

Is it too much to assume that he probably thinks similarly?

How often do open-minded, kind, and accepting people marry small-minded bigots?

It’s also astounding that Christians who have read the New Testament could believe that Jesus Christ would oppose LGBTQ rights. Whether you believe Jesus to be the son of God, a wise philosopher, or even a fictional character, his moral certainty and acceptance of all people could not be more evident in the text.

The first four books of the New Testament—the story of Jesus’s life—make this abundantly clear.

You really need to twist your thinking, compromise your logic, and collapse your reading comprehension to believe that Jesus would have opposed Pride Month or felt any hatred at all for members of the LGBTQ community.

Yet that is how bigots like Martha-Ann Alito justify their hatred and defend their bigotry.

It’s unconscionable.

So I count myself lucky today to have been born, raised, and continue to live in a community where Pride flags fly in abundance, my LGBTQ friends enjoy more rights than ever before, and the small, hateful monsters are relegated to the shadows much of the time because they are surrounded by a majority of better, wiser, kinder human beings.

We still have a long way to go to erase bigotry from this country and this world, but I’m so happy to be living in a place that is seemingly ahead of the curve.