Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 580

Future writer? Or perhaps an editor?

Please note my daughter's brevity (her name is Clara).

If there is a fire, she is going to get the hell out for sure.

Her sentences are admirable as well. Clear, active and specific.

More than I can say for some of her Daddy's sentences. 

Maybe this preschool is worth the cost after all

Could your child's preschool teacher send a better photograph than this?

It was probably staged…

Have you ever seen a more beautiful sunrise?

It's back. 

It's back.

A lost wedding ring, an unfriendly receptionist and peeing in the wrong place

My morning started off well enough.  I stepped on the scale and discovered that I was eight-tenths of a pound away from my goal weight. 

Considering this represented a 53 pound drop in weight over a two year period, I was pretty excited.

Then my day proceeded to be consumed in a variety of missteps.  Three of the most prominent were the following: 

Misstep #1

About three minutes after arriving at school, I realized that my wedding band had fallen off.  Given the weight loss, the ring was already loose and had fallen off several times before, but this time I failed to notice it drop off my finger. 

I spend the critical first hour of my morning searching for the ring, retracing my steps to and from my car.  I searched the classroom, the playground, the parking lot and the interior of my car with great precision. 

No luck. 

I had consigned myself to telling my wife the bad news when I decided to retrace my steps one more time before my students arrived.  During this final attempt, I remembered that I had walked into the school with a grocery bag full of food.  I had emptied the bag into my refrigerator and then tossed the bag into the trashcan. 

Inside the trashcan, wrapped up in the plastic bag, was my wedding band.

Can you imagine?

I had literally thrown away my wedding ring.  

Misstep #2

I stepped into the podiatrist's office with a Diet Coke that I had just purchased at the adjacent Subway restaurant.  I inform the receptionist of my name and that I had a 4:15 appointment.

"First of all," he said, "That is not allowed in our office."  He pointed at my soda.

Forbidding a grown man to drink a soda in the waiting room was annoying (and I couldn't help but wonder if I would have been treated differently had it been a coffee or a stainless steel water bottle), but I was especially annoyed by the way he informed me of this ridiculous rule. 

I responded in kind.

"Did you mean the Diet Coke?  Or all types of beverages?  Hot beverages, too? Explain that, if you could."

Proving himself suitably armed for verbal combat, he said, "That" and pointed emphatically at the soda once again.

"Fine," I said.  "I'm a little early.  I'll finish it outside."  I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the glass doors and drank my soda, making sure the receptionist could see me from where he was sitting.

I then came back inside.  "Hi," I said in an overly cheery tone.  "I'm here for my 4:15 appointment." 

"Did you complete the online questionnaire as instructed?"

"Um… no," I said.  "My wife made the appointment."

"Do you have your insurance card?" he asked. 

"Of course."  But after a moment of searching the wallet, I realized that I did not.

I swear I have it with me all of the time.  

"I'm sorry," I said, attempting for the first time to inject warmth and humility into my voice for the first time. "I don't have it."

He just stared at me. 

"Can you help me?" I asked.  "I've already rescheduled this appointment once." 

He didn't say anything for a moment, but he looked at me in a way that clearly said:

Oh, now you want me help, huh?  Maybe you shouldn't have been such a jackass five minutes ago when I simply enforced a rule that the doctor has set.

I spent the rest of my time in the waiting room with my tail between my legs. 

Misstep #3

As I was leaving the mall, I stopped in the restroom to pee.  I entered the stall, conducted my business, and then stepped over to the sink and began washing my hands.   

I turned left.  Standing beside me was a woman, also washing her hands. 

I smiled.  "I guess I'm the one in the wrong restroom. Huh?"

She did not smile back.

Suggested revisions to religious services (and an offer to lead your congregation to happiness)

My wife and I brought our daughter to a blessedly brief children's service a couple weeks ago during Rosh Hashanah.

Granted I don't have a lot of experience with these kinds of things (not being Jewish and all), but in regards to Jewish religious services, this children's service was just my speed. 

Some spirited music (in English), a short play based upon a children's book, a thoughtful yet short reading, and some apples and honey on the way out. 

Short, memorable, entertaining and engaging.

I wish that every rabbi, priest, minister, reverend and other religious whatnot would keep these four words in mind when planning their religious service, because in my experience, almost no one does.

And it's annoying.     

Why not attempt to make these services as entertaining, engaging and brief as possible? 

Seriously. 

If your service is more than 45 minutes and has failed to generate a single laugh, you've probably failed to keep the attention and interest of your congregation.

Why not actually try to engage the audience?  Speak in a way that both delivers information and provides a modicum of entertainment.  It's probably not going to make a believer out of me, but I'd be a hell of a lot more likely to accompany my wife to some of these services if there was an attempt to make them palatable and memorable.

Hell, I'd even be willing to help out.  As long as the congregants didn't mind my lack of faith, I'd be happy to put together a Sunday morning service for a local church. 

A couple catchy tunes, a short, humorous yet meaningful sermon, a one-act play performed by a handful of adorable children designed to illustrate point, and a cookie on the way out.

I really think I'd be a hit.  And I would not rely on the fear of God, the expectations of family and community, the inevitability of death or a lifetime of religious indoctrination to keep my audience coming back for more.

Oh, and I'd cancel all religious services if the weather is especially beautiful.  There's nothing more silly than the thought that God would want you stuck inside listening to me (or anyone else for that matter) on a splendid autumn day.           

Only one thing upset me about the Rosh Hashanah service that I attended with my wife and Clara.

At one point, the rabbi explained that this is the time of year when we should begin reflecting upon our lives and finding ways to live the life we have always wanted.  He encouraged his congregation to be introspective, identifying those areas where improvement is needed, so that we can ultimately become the people we truly want to be. 

When he finished, I turned to my wife and whispered, "I am the person I want to be, damn it.  Who is he to assume otherwise?"

I really was annoyed.  I wanted to tell him that when I was a little boy, I wanted to be a writer and a teacher, and damn it, that's what I am today.

I wanted to tell him that I've also added DJ, life coach and minister to my list of current jobs, and if I could just find someone to hire me as a professional best man, all of my current career aspirations would be fulfilled. 

I wanted to tell him that I am married to the best person I have ever known and have the best daughter I could ever imagine. 

I wanted to tell him that I set 21 goals for myself back in January and am on pace to complete 16-18 of them, which is pretty damn good, all things considered.

I wanted to tell him that I have the best friends that I have ever had in my entire life. 

I wanted to tell him that his assumptions suck.  

I know. I'm probably taking a very well meant sentiment a little too personally, but in thinking about the type of religious officiate I might be (thus far I have only officiated weddings and baby naming ceremonies), I can't imagine standing before a congregation and asking them to try harder to become the people they truly want to be. 

While I am certain that this message might apply to some, it certainly doesn't apply to all. 

And it comes across a little holier-than-thou, which might seem appropriate for a temple or church but never is.

What apple?

When we weren't looking, Clara ate the apple. 

The whole apple.

This is all that was left.

Are we bad parents?  

Nothing makes me happier

…than seeing my daughter so filled with joy. 

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Three suspect descriptors

In the past three days, I have been described in the following terms:

When my wife and daughter pulled into the driveway last night to pick me up for dinner, Clara said: 

"Daddy is big.  He's a man.  He cuddles me.  He turns on the TV."

__________________________

On the way to The Moth event on Monday night, one of my friends said:

"Your personality has a chilling effect on honesty."

__________________________

Yesterday one of my students said:

"I think you're one of my best teachers ever, Mr. Dicks, but I will never understand you. (PAUSE) I don't think anyone understands you."

__________________________

Clara was kind, at least. 

Thoughts from my first Moth GrandSLAM

On Monday night, I had the honor of telling a story in The Moth GrandSLAM XXII as a result of winning a StorySLAM competition months earlier. 

It was an amazing night for me. I did not win, but my friends (and a fellow storyteller) added the scores and thought I probably came in third. 

Honestly, my only goal was to successfully take the stage and not embarrass myself.  In that, I think I succeeded.   

Here are a few of my thoughts and recollections:

1. The Moth judges always seem to get these things right.  Ellen Barker told the best story of the evening and was quite deserving of the victory.  It was an honor to grace the stage with such a fine storyteller. 

Being the only female storyteller of the evening, it was also quite amusing and apropos when the storytellers gathered on the stage at the end of the show and she told us to, "Suck it, boys."

Can't help but admire everything about her.

2. Nervousness is an odd duck.  I was not nervous about telling my story until I arrived at the Highline Ballroom. But having been in the audience for a GrandSLAM before, I suddenly realized the caliber of storyteller who would be on display this evening, and the butterflies erupted.

One of my friends said, "It's kind of amazing that you are telling a GrandSLAM story. Don't you think?"

I did, and that was the source of the sudden anxiety.  I had seen great storytellers on this stage before, and I realized that I would have to somehow uphold this tradition.     

Thankfully, my nervousness disappeared once the first storyteller took the stage.  Listening to someone tell a story reminded me that all we were doing was telling a story.  It wasn't exactly rocket science after all. 

My nervousness returned as I waited to be introduced from backstage, but as soon as I was standing before the microphone, the nervousness was gone again. 

I am hoping that if I am ever fortunate enough to tell another story at a Moth GrandSLAM, I will remain calm throughout the evening. 

Sadly, two of my fellow storytellers and GrandSLAM veterans assured me that this would not be the case.

3. Driving into the city from the middle of Connecticut immediately after work to tell a story sucks.  Driving home at midnight sucks even more. 

I am extremely envious of these New York-based storytellers. 

That said, I am also exceptionally fortunate to have friends who are willing to spend hours in the car and arrive home after 1:30 AM on a weeknight in order to support me.  I couldn't be more thankful.    

4. My wife's parents, uncle and cousin attended their first Moth event last night, and like all first-time attendees, they both loved it and couldn't believe that they had not heard about The Moth until now. 

When I try to tell people who are unfamiliar with The Moth what I was doing on Monday night, it can be difficult.  I often rely on The Moth's "True stories told live without notes" tagline, but until you've been to a Moth event or listened to the podcast regularly, you can't really understand the magic of The Moth.  

5. Many people ask me how I prepare for an event like this.  Here's my process: 

In order to prepare for telling the story, I never actually speak the story in its entirety.  I fear that if I were to practice the story verbatim, it would begin to sound too rehearsed. 

Therefore my goal is to tell the story in its entirety for the first time while I am onstage.  Instead of practicing the full story, I memorize my opening and closing paragraphs and the transitions that will carry me through the middle of the story, which is also the bulk of my story. 

As a result, my stories are never delivered as I initially write them.  This is fine.  I am often adding, deleting and adjusting as I speak based upon the audience's reaction and new thoughts that spring to mind while I am onstage. 

But the drawback to this method is that it prevents me from accurately timing my story.  Since I have a 5-6 minute time limit to tell my story, not knowing how long the story is going to be is unnecessarily stressful. 

Last night I received a guitar strum at the five minute mark, warning me that I had a minute left, and I immediately began dumping details in order to reach the end. 

As a result, I may have to rethink my means of preparation in the future.     

6. Elysha and I had the honor of sitting with storyteller Joshua Blau, who is also a CPA and father of five (including triplets).  Josh was uncommonly generous with his time and advice.  He is a veteran of the StorySLAM circuit, a former GrandSLAM storyteller, and one of his stories was featured on last week's Moth podcast.  It was great to sit and talk with such an all-around nice guy. 

It was also a relief to see him fielding calls from his kids and struggling with nerves prior to taking the stage.

He made me feel slightly more normal and a little less amateurish.

Josh also informed me that recordings of all Moth stories are available for purchase. 

I'm thrilled. 

Years from now, I can play these recordings for Clara and revel in her disinterested and general apathy over her father's glory days. 

7.  The two people who host the show, Dan Kennedy and Jenifer Hixon, are remarkable people. 

Dan remembered me from my StorySLAM performance months ago and was exceptionally kind with his remarks about me.  He was also able to quote a line from my story verbatim the next day, which I found simultaneously stunning and incredibly humbling.  The man is a true professional.

Jenifer was equally kind, taking an hour from her Saturday on the Jersey shore with her family to help me choose the right story for the GrandSLAM a couple weeks ago.  Jenifer produces the show, but more importantly, she makes the storytellers feel like welcomed members of the family.  Seeing her smile at me as I stepped onstage was all I needed in order to feel confident about my performance. 

The Moth is fortunate beyond measure to have these two people doing such good work for them. 

8.  The Highline Ballroom is great, but it was freakin' cold last night.

The Moon sucks

My daughter is fascinated by the Moon. 

She thinks it is beautiful and precious.

Little does she know what could have been.