Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 564

Damn. He read my mind perfectly.

Copacetic

A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. - Herm Albright

Very little is known about Herm Albright, the man credited for this quote.  He may have been a painter and lithographer, born on January 29, 1876 in Mannheim, Germany.  If so, Albright emigrated to the United States and settled in San Francisco in 1905. He held a job with the Paul Elder Book Company for twenty-five years and died on September 21, 1944.

Regardless of the sketchy detail surrounding his life, I can tell you one thing for certain about Herm Albright:

Based upon this quote, we would have gotten along famously. 

Our little flower girl

Elysha gave Clara her bridesmaid's bouquet on the morning after her friend's wedding.

Needless to say Clara was thrilled.  I received these videos on the way to the Patriots game and thought that they were as cute as could be.  But a tiny part of me suddenly became terrified that my daughter was growing up too fast, taking too much pleasure in prancing about the house with a wedding bouquet.

I want to tell her that there's plenty of time for love and marriage and weddings filled with pretty flowers.   

Her Daddy won't allow her to get married until she's thirty years old anyway, so why rush things?   

 

Pen and ink are not required for history

Last week I criticized this sentence in Roger Angell's recent New Yorker piece on the demise of the post office:

Troops in Afghanistan and, until lately, Iraq keep up by Skype and Facebook, and in some sense are not away at all.

Reading it again still makes me angry, but if you're curious why, read the original post.  Today I'd like to criticize Angell's maudlin, shortsighted, overly sentimental view of the post office and letter writing in general.  The thesis his piece is that the demise of the post office, in many respects, can be directly attributed to the demise of the written letter, and with the loss of hand written letters, historian will be left with fewer and fewer artifacts from which to interpret history.

If we stop writing letters, who will keep our history or dare venture upon a biography? George Washington, Oscar Wilde, T. E. Lawrence, Virginia Woolf, E. B. White, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vera Nabokov, J. P. Morgan—if any of these vivid predecessors still belong to us in some fragmented private way, it's because of their letters or diaries (which are letters to ourselves) or thanks to some strong biography built on a ledge of letters.

I can't help but wonder if Angell is under the misguided impression that email, text messages, tweets, Facebook status updates and other forms of electronic communication are ethereal and temporary?

Has he not heard the adage that it would be easier to erase a message carved in granite than an email or blog post from the Internet?

Has he not heard that every tweet ever sent is currently being stored in the Library of Congress?

I would argue that future historians will have access to resources that past historians could only dream about.  Rather than reconstructing someone's life from the carefully crafted, undoubtedly measured words found in letters and other written communication, historians will have access to the day-to-day communication of any historical person.  Not only will this constitute a considerable increase in the amount of historical material for study, but in many ways, it will provide them with a considerably less filtered image of the figure as well.

Which is preferable?  A series of letters exchanged between two public figures over a twenty year period, or every email, tweet, text, status update, blog post, and online comment sent over the same twenty year period?

Angell is crazy if he believes that historians wouldn't opt for the latter.

Angell also argues that the loss of letter writing is an issue of quality and depth of writing, that today's electronic communication does not convey the sense of humanity that a well crafted letter might.    

The poets Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Bishop conducted an enormous correspondence—four hundred and fifty-nine letters, between 1947 and 1977 ("What a block of life," Lowell said), spanning three continents and, between them, six or eight different lovers or partners—but one need read only a few pages of these melancholic literary exchanges to know that the latest BlackBerry or iPhone never would have penetrated their consciousness.

I would argue that the 459 letters exchanged between Lowell and Bishop (which amount to about one every other month) is nothing compared to the tens of thousands of text messages, tweets and emails that these poets might have exchanged over the same thirty year period had the technology existed to do so.  Lowell and Bishop were consciously writing for one another.  One must assume that these letters were finely crafted and self-edited with their specific audience in mind. 

Might we have a more honest, more realistic view of their relationship had their communication been more frequent and less filtered?  

I think so. 

The demise of the written letter, and of the post office in general, is sad, but it is sad mostly to sentimentalists and individuals who do not understand the permanence of bits and bytes.  Aware that the post office was operating in the red for quite some time, I was shocked that postal officials did not eliminate Saturday delivery a long time ago and even switch to an every-other-day delivery schedule. 

Would any reasonably-minded person be upset if home delivery of the mail was restricted to Monday, Wednesday and Friday if it allowed the post office to operate in the black?

Gratitude journal: Cuddling and closure

Tonight I am grateful for the fifteen minutes that my daughter spent cuddling with me before bed, as well as her subsequent request that I place her in the crib so that she could go to sleep.

The time spent rocking in the chair together was priceless, but it was her willingness to bring closure to the moment that made it perfect.  

25 Things, again

A brand new fan of my books, who lives in the UK and received both my books for Christmas, has been reading my blog over the past couple weeks, beginning with my very first post and working her way to the present.  Every day or so, she recommends that I re-publish one of my earlier posts that new readers may have missed but would enjoy. 

While I have been humbled by her willingness to read hundreds of old posts that I have long since forgotten, I have thus far rejected all of her re-publishing suggestions.  Even though social media experts often suggest re-publishing your best posts from previous years for the benefit of new readers, I usually have plenty to say without digging into the archives for material.

But I thought that today's suggestion was a good one. 

Back in early 2009, a meme known as 25 Things spread throughout the Internet (primarily on Facebook) which asked participants to post 25 things about themselves that their friends might find surprising.

My new fan found my list intriguing and thought it worth republishing. 

I agreed.

She is also working on her own 25 Things list, which I am looking forward to reading when she is finished.  The meme was widely criticized in 2009 as being self-serving and pointless, but I recall learning a great deal about my friends that I would have otherwise never known. 

Hopefully this will do the same for you.    

________________________________________________________

From January 25, 2009

My friend, Kate, sent me a note entitled 25 Things via Facebook. Included was a list of 25 random facts pertaining to her with a request for me to reciprocate.

I did, and I thought I'd post the list here as well. It occurs to me that some of these items would make for a good story someday.

1. I once owned a pet raccoon.

2. I haven't thrown up since 1983 on the Music Express at the now-defunct Rocky Point Amusement Park.

3. I once lived in my car for two days before being taken in by a family of Jehovah Witnesses and their pet goat (an indoor goat).

4. My favorite author is Kurt Vonnegut.

5. I cannot touch cotton balls without getting the heebie jeebies.

6. I was once unknowingly fed my pet rabbit by a girlfriend's father.

7. I started writing my first novel while on vacation in Boca Raton, Florida.

8. I have died twice before being revived both times by paramedics.  No white light either time. 

9. Despite my many injuries, I have never bruised.

10. I asked my wife to marry me at the top of the staircase in Grand Central with more than two dozen friends and family secretly looking on.

11. I'm left handed but play many sports right handed or with both hands.

12. I grew up outside of Boston but am a Yankees fan because I hated my brother, who was a diehard Sox fan.

13. I am a wedding DJ and non-religious minister who marries couples and performs baby naming ceremonies.

14. I have entered four lip sync contests in my life and have placed first, second, third, and last.

15. As a member of my high school's championship marching band, I marched in the Rose Bowl and Macy's Day Thanksgiving Parade.

16. I was a state champion pole vautler in high school.

17. I was once lost in the White Mountains of New Hampshire for almost two days.

18. I am terrified of hypodermic needles.

19. I grew up on a horse farm until my parents divorced.

20. My favorite food is ice cream cake, followed closely by hot dogs.

21. I was robbed at gunpoint and knife point.

22. I worked as a McDonald's manager throughout high school and college.

23. My wife and I teach in the same elementary school, two doors down from one another.

24. Field of Dreams still makes me cry.

25. I was once suspended from school for inciting riot upon myself.

Dont mess with my 7-11

I stop at the 7-11 a few blocks from my house several times a week, to pick up a Diet Coke after my workout, a gallon of milk when we are running low and a pint of Ben and Jerry's when Elysha and I are craving ice cream.

It's a place I know well.    

Yesterday I stopped by on the way home from the gym for a soda.  As I entered the store, the woman at the cash register, who owns the store with her husband, said, "Hello! How are you doing today?"

The greeting caught me off guard.  She has never spoken to me like that before.  Her voice was uncharacteristically cheery, and her platitude was unprecedented.  I looked up.  Standing beside her was a short, red-headed man in a dark suit.  He smiled at me upon making eye contact, a smile that was much too large to be genuine.

I nodded and moved on.   

As I turned toward the soda dispenser, the owner said, "If I can help you find anything, please be sure to let me know."

For a moment, I thought that the red-headed man was robbing the place.  This statement was so out of character that I thought there had to be something wrong.  Then I heard Red Head begin speaking to her in a low voice about the importance of making each customer feel important.

Suddenly I knew.  Corporate 7-11 had come to town.  Training was underway. 

After pouring my soda, I assumed my position in line at the register.  I listened and watched as the owner greeted each customer with a cheery voice and a bright smile as she offered a hot dog, a corn dog or a Cadbury egg to each customer. 

I grew more and more annoyed with each passing word.

Finally it was my turn to pay. I placed my soda down upon the counter and reached for my wallet.

"Would you like to try one of our delicious hot dogs today?" the owner asked.

"Stop," I said.  "Please don't do this. I liked things the way they were before."

"Excuse me?" the owner said.

"I liked our relationship before," I said.  "When you didn't greet me at the door and ask if I needed any help.  I don't want any of this."

Red Head immediately jumped in.  "We're just trying to make your experience as positive as possible, sir," he said, still smiling. 

He reminded me of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons.   

"This is the only experience I have ever had in this store that wasn't positive," I said. "This is a 7-11.  I want to get in and out.  I know this lady.  We have an actual relationship.  Not one of these fake ones that you are forcing upon us."

"We're just trying to make sure every 7-11 customer is satisfied with their visit," Red Head said, still annoyingly upbeat.

"I understand, but this is the only time I haven't been satisfied with my visit," I said. "You're ruining everything."

Red Head went on to explain that it's 7-11's mission to ensure that its customers are assisted in every way possible while visiting their stores, and I went on to explain that the only thing wrong with my neighborhood 7-11 was his presence. 

The jerk never stopped smiling, no matter what I said.  

But I was serious.  I don't want a warm, falsified greeting every time I enter that store. I don't want to be offered assistance in finding something in a store that is smaller than my classroom or suggestive-sold a hot dog every time I try to pay.  I want my usual quick entry, the occasional nod of acknowledgement, and the rapid exit.

The last thing I want is an experience. 

I ended the conversation by asking Red Head if he would be back tomorrow.  "No, sir," he said.  "Not tomorrow." 

"Good," I said, reestablishing eye contact with the owner.  "Then we'll talk tomorrow.  Or not talk.  Okay?"

She did not offer me a smile in return.  She said, "Okay," and nodded, which was exactly what I wanted.

The first post of my gratitude journal

The subject of gratitude journals arose during Michael Kindness's review of ENJOY EVERY SANDWICH: LIVING EACH DAY AS IF IT WERE YOUR LAST on the most recent episode of Books on the Nightstand.

The thought behind a gratitude journal is to write down at least one thing at the end of every day for which you are grateful.  In theory, this is a way to consciously call attention to the things for which a person is thankful each day and provide some perspective in terms of the value that each day can bring.

I'm not usually a touchy-feely kind of guy, but I like this idea, so I've decided to give it a try.  At the end of each day, I will post a least one thing for which I am grateful from the course of the day.

Granted these will not be the most compelling of posts, so feel free to skip right over them.  I will understand.

Today I am grateful for the opportunity to work with a colleague and close friend for all thirteen years of my teaching career.  In a profession marked by transition and change, thirteen years of side-by-side teaching is unusual.  Donna took me under her wing when I was young and dumb, and through hard work, a lot of listening and a great deal of perseverance, we eventually became equals in the profession. Over the years, Donna and I have developed a closeness and an understanding that I have shared with few other people in my lifetime.  She has been one of the unexpected blessings of my teaching career, and she makes every day interesting, entertaining and enlightening.

Its a boy!

Just kidding.

In answer to some recent queries, no, my wife and I have decided not to find out the sex of our child before he or she is born. 

We waited with Clara and found the suspense to be fun as hell. 

We discovered that Clara was a girl when the anesthesiologist peeked over the curtain during my wife's unplanned C-section and said, "I see your baby.  Want to know if it's a boy or girl?"

"Sure," I said. 

He leaned in a little closer and said, "Looks like you got yourself a girl."

It's a moment Elysha and I will never forget.

No reason why we wouldn't want to do it again.

As a side benefit, our decision to wait makes several of our friends and family members absolutely insane. 

They think we are crazy for waiting. 

One of our relatives found the decision to wait the first time so utterly inexplicable that she believed we knew the sex of the baby and just weren't telling.  As with Clara, there are friends and family legitimately annoyed by our decision to wait.

Making yourself happy while making others unjustifiably annoyed is what I call a win-win scenario.

The music of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO

My guest post on The Undercover Soundtrack is up today.

The Undercover Soundtrack is a blog that invites authors to share the music behind the novels that they write.  In some cases, it's the music that an author may listen to while writing, and in others it's the way in which music plays a role in the book.   

In the case of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, music played a large role in helping to define the character of Milo Slade, making it a perfect book to write about for this blog and an easy post to write. 

Many thanks to Roz Morris for the opportunity to participate in this interesting project.