Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 665

Happy Camper

Last week I brought my students to a YMCA camp for three days of outdoor education.  On the morning of our departure, I donned a tee-shirt that featured the smiling face of a presumed camper and the phrase Happy Camper emblazoned beneath.

I wear it every year on the first day of camp.

And as I pulled it over my head, it occurred to me I probably put more purpose and decision making into the wearing of that tee-shirt than I do for almost anything else that I wear during the rest of the year.  Typically I choose my clothing based upon the next item at the top of the pile or the shirt that matches the next pair of clean pants. 

I'm not saying I look slovenly.  I just wear whatever is next in line.

Except when it comes to my Happy Camper shirt.  It's the one day that I dig deep into the pile and make an actual wardrobe decision.  

I was thinking that this was a good thing.  It struck me as efficient and time-saving.  It seemed to express an existential disregard for outward appearances beyond the requirements to appear clean and neat.  It demonstrated the uniform equity that I assign to plaid and stripes, blue and green. 

But when I tell people this, all I seem to get is eye-rolls and head shakes. 

The bride is pretty

I have noticed a disturbing trend over the past year that I have managed to document and analyze in order to determine if my observations have been accurate.

As a wedding DJ, I have heard hundreds, if not thousands, of toasts, almost always by the best man, oftentimes by the father of the groom, and lately by the maid or matron of honor as well. Ten years ago a toast from the maid of honor was a rarity, but today it happens more often than it does not.

Though these women are all fine speakers and often do an excellent job with their toasts (though their use of the microphone is often suspect), I have noticed that they tend to limit their positive comment about the bride to physical appearance only. The typical maid of honor comments on how beautiful the bride looks and then follows this compliment with a story or anecdote about the couple. Sometimes she talks about the bride and groom's first date, and sometimes she describes the moment when the groom asked the bride to marry him.  Stories from childhood or college are often included, and then glasses are raised and the microphone is passed to the best man.

In the last twelve weddings that I have worked in which a maid of honor toasted the bride and groom, she has limited all positive remarks about the bride to physical appearance.

Every single one.

In contrast, best man speeches never reference physical appearance (unless done in jest) but instead center on a groom's character. Loyalty, friendship, selflessness, and even courage are often referenced.  Sometimes stupidity and clumsiness enter the fray as well.  From this past weekend, for example, the groom was described as loyal family man, dependable, funny, intelligent, risk-taking, hard working, sentimental, and kind.

All of these glowing remarks while the maid of honor limited her remarks to "You look so beautiful today" and "You look simply stunning today, as you always do."

Granted, there was more to the maid of honor's toast, but stories were told to promote laughter and reminiscence and not for the purposes of highlighting the bride's many positive attributes.

Other than the bride's degree of beauty, all other compliments (and I would argue the more meaningful comments) were reserved for the groom.

Thankfully this was not the case on our wedding day. Elysha's sister's toast including a glowing tribute to her sister, describing her as a warm and genuine person and not the pretty object that most maids of honor focus seem stuck on.

And my best man offered a long but excellent toast, full of stories that I had long since forgotten, but nothing about my physical appearance, probably to my benefit.

I know I harp on this propensity for woman to focus on outward appearances a lot, but the tendency has clearly permeated a great many aspects of our culture, and it isn't good. Worst still, it seems as if too many women are willing to acknowledge this problem but do nothing to alter their own behavior.

Yes, the fashion magazines promote an unrealistic image of a woman's body, but I buy them anyway.

Yes, Barbie dolls present impossible body proportions to little girls, but my daughter wants one, damn it.  And the Barbie dream house too!

Yes, it's shallow and trite to consistently comment on the clothing or shoes that my friends are wearing each time we get together, but we do it anyway.

Prior to every toast, I review the use of the microphone with best men and maids of honor, and if needed, I will review their toasts as well, to ensure that nothing is missed.  At a recent wedding I suggested to the maid of honor that a few positive comments related to something other than the bride's physical appearance might be in order, and she scoffed at the idea, looking at me as if I were from Pluto.

"Have you even heard a maid of honor toast before? I got all these ideas from a web site and (the bride) is going to love them."

Though I didn't think that she was wrong in her prediction of the bride's reaction to the toast, I wished that she were.

Crazy Town

Just watch.  Trust me.

Peanut allergy is peanuts by comparison

Results published in the Annals of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology indicate that more than 30% of children with food allergies report being bullied or teased — often repeatedly — because of their eating restrictions.

As the father of a peanut-allergic daughter, you might think this is cause for concern.

Think again.

Her last name is Dicks.  Her peanut allergy is the last thing that kids will be teasing her about. 

She should be happy that we named her Clara.  I have two uncles named  Harold who both go by the name Harry Dicks, and my father is Leslie Dicks and uses the name Les Dicks.

Clara Dicks is a cake walk by comparison.

Most famous Newington resident?

Last week I received an email from a fellow Newington resident and fan named Tony that read:

I have an oddball question for you that I've been thinking about for a long time - do you think you are the most famous current Newington resident?  The reason this question occurred to me is that I was parked in front of Cugino's one Saturday evening back in the spring, and I'm pretty sure you were parked next to me and were coming out of Goldburger's with a to-go order.  So I said to my wife, somewhat excitedly, "Hey, I think that is Matthew Dicks."  She said "Who?" and once I reminder her of who you are she remembered as she is also well aware of you.

Since then I have been trying to think of a more famous resident of our fair town.

The email made me chuckle, and I immediately assumed that there must be someone in Newington more famous than a guy who has published a couple of novels and writes a blog in his spare time. 

But perhaps not.  Since that day, I have yet to come up with a more famous Newington resident.  And I've tried. If I'm the most famous person in Newington, what does this say about my town?

Quite an indictment.  Huh?

So I leave it to you.

Is there someone more famous than me currently residing in Newington?  I challenge you to find someone or support Tony's assertion. 

Oh, and there are rules, outlined by Tony. 

He writes:

"Famous" means on some national level.  Someone like the mayor of Newington or a local newscaster who lives in Newington may be known of by more people, but it is very localized.

Also, I am defining famous to mean someone will recognize your name and will know what you are known for.  They wouldn't necessarily have to recognize you in person if they saw you, or know that you live in Newington.  I'm not sure I'm totally comfortable with this qualifier, as you could easily argue that someone would have to be recognized in person.  I would counter that many writers are famous without necessarily being physically recognizable.  For example, I think most people could pick Stephen King out of a line up, but not necessarily Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton (when he was alive) or John Grisham. 

So, the ultimate question would be are you the most well known Newington resident on a national level?

That's it.  Good hunting.

Rewriting Melville

When I was in 8th grade, I was asked to write a book report on a novel by a famous American author. Mrs. Bennett took the class to the library and instructed us to spend the period searching for a book that we would read and then use to write our reports.

Book reports, by the way, are stupid.

Even as a teacher today, I can attest to this fact. Is there a better way to ruin the excitement of a book? Asking a kid to write a book report is like taking the green pepper that you hope your child will learn to love and dipping it in paint thinner.

Stupid.

Aware of the stupidity of the book report at an early age, I made every effort to avoid the process. When we arrived in the library, I immediately grabbed a stool and began searching the top rows for any novel by a famous American author. I reasoned that books shelved high enough to require a stool to access were likely read less often. My goal was to find a book that hadn't been touched in years.

Eventually I find just such a book. Omoo by Herman Melville. Thanks to the cards that were still tucked inside the covers of books in those days, I was able to see the date that this book was last taken out by a student or teacher:

More than nine years ago.

It looked as if it had been sitting up there for a while as well. Covered in dusty, smelling of must, and creaking when I opened it for the first time. I took the book to Mrs. Bennett for approval, and she declared it to be a fine choice. "I've never read that one before," she said and expressed anticipation in reading about it in my report.

Just what I had wanted.

Rather than reading the book, I spent the next two weeks inventing the plot, characters, and theme of this book and writing a report about my musings. I skimmed the first chapter for character names, but otherwise the entire report reflected my personal version of Omoo, complete with a scathing critique of my story.

My grade: A

I still have the paper. 

In order to ensure that I would not be discovered, I kept the book in my possession for three full months after receiving my grade, telling the librarian that I had lost it.  Prior to the Internet, it would have been difficult, if not impossible, for Mrs. Bennett to locate another copy of a relatively unknown novel by the great writer. Had she been so inclined, she might have taken a trip to local libraries and book stores in hopes of finding a copy, but I doubted that she would go through the trouble. Had she asked to see the book, I planned to tell her that I had lost it.

Paying $20 to ensure the sanctity of my excellent grade would have been well worth it.

Of course, Mrs. Bennett never asked for the book, and three months after my grade had been posted, it was finally returned to its top shelf.

Wouldn't it be great to see if it has been taken out by anyone since that day?

I have still not read Omoo, nor have I read Typee, the first in what turns out to be a Melville trilogy (Omoo is the second of the three). But I may get around to reading it someday. I would love to spend a week reading Omoo and comparing my story to that of Melville.

I often wonder which one was better.

The truth will set the wolves on you

I don't like to lie.

There was a time in my life when lying was my unfortunate specialty.

Attempting to maintain two or three girlfriends at a time required a great deal of plotting and deceit (the fact that they lived in different states most of the year helped a lot), as well as the compliance and assistance of a few good friends. In these cases, lots of lying was required in order to juggle the girls effectively.

I've even killed off an already deceased grandparent on more than one occasion in order to miss a day or two of work (also with the help of a friend).  Getting a weekend off while working for a restaurant is exceptionally difficult and often requires drastic measures.

But those days have long since passed. Back then, I was just out of high school and living with friends, barely able to take care of myself. I was young and impetuous and stupid.  Thankfully,it didn't take me long to figure out that the truth is an easier and more rewarding road to travel.

As a result, I attempt to avoid lying at all costs. Though this policy typically yields positive results, I occasionally find myself in the uncomfortable situation of telling the truth even when it hurts the feelings of friend or family member.

These are never unprovoked circumstances. If my friend has gained twenty pounds, for example, I don't go out of my way to inform the person of the noticeable weight gain. My problems begin when someone asks me a question to which a truthful answer may prove to be uncomfortable or insulting. For example, if the friend who has gained twenty pounds asks if he or she looks bigger, I feel required to tell the truth.

This is especially difficult when a friend or family member attempts to assert that the three hour drive I just completed in order to arrive at his or her event "Wasn't too bad, right?"

Actually, it was bad. In fact, it downright sucked, and the three hours that I will spend driving home will be just as bad, and potentially hazardous considering the time of day and my level of exhaustion. Please don't belittle my sacrifice of time and fossil fuel.

This is the kind of honest response that gets me into trouble.

Or when a friend asks my opinion as an educator:

"My child isn't reading on level yet, but most kids eventually catch up, right?"

Sure they do. But not if they spend seven hours a day watching television and playing video games in an unmonitored environment. Your child was capable of operating your media center and all of your remote controls when he was four years old. In my professional opinion, your kid is probably screwed unless you stop acting like a selfish and irresponsible parent.

Again, this kind of response is not always well received.

I am sometimes questioned by people (especially loved ones) for my unwillingness to make these admittedly innocent white lies in order to keep people happy. And here's why:

A good friend wrote to me a few months ago, and her email is something that I will always treasure. She was talking to her daughter about friendship and relayed the following conversation:

I was explaining that my definition of a friend is the person who you can trust no matter what, you know they will have your back, you could call at 3AM if you need something and you know they will tell you honestly and thoughtfully if you are acting crazy. They will give you advice in your best interest, even...especially... if it's not exactly what you want to hear. 

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "You know who I think is just like that?  Mr. Dicks.  You just know you could count on him no matter what...he'd be there for you and you never have to worry about him telling you the truth."

There's value to this kind of reputation that makes all those awkward, uncomfortable moments of truth well worth the price.

Lefty

I am left handed. Actually, like most left handers, I am slightly ambidextrous. Living in a world built for right handed people (which is why we are more prone to accidents and die sooner), left handers often learn to do things with either hand in order to compensate for life in this alien environment.

I play baseball right handed (the effect of being taught by right handed people who failed to realize that I was left handed) but can swing the bat from the left side of the plate almost as...

Huh?

And ew…

The Google is God

I love the Google.  I know there is great consternation about the amount of personal information that the company gathers and potential threats to personal privacy, but I don't care anymore.  Take everything I've got, Google Gods.  It's worth it.

Case in point:

Yesterday, my buddy and I were on the way to the Microsoft NERD Center in Boston for a conference on social media.  We had no address for the location, but I simply entered NERD Center into my Google Maps app on my phone and...