Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 73
October 11, 2023
Bigoted bigots banning books for an even stupider reason
A children’s book has been flagged for censorship by Alabama officials – because the author’s surname is Gay.
The book, Read Me a Story Stella by Marie-Louise Gay, was placed under review at the Harris County Public Library due to its “sexually explicit” nature. But the story has no sexual content. It’s about a brother and sister reading books together as they spend the day building a fort.
But when you operate in a racist, bigoted, idiotic system in which stupid people are allowed to make stupid, immoral decisions, these things are bound to happen.Just imagine how incredibly moronic and morally bankrupt you must be to believe that the word “gay” in any context – including a person’s sexual orientation – is sexually explicit.Harris County Public Library executive director Cindy Hewitt said the book was incorrectly put on its list of books under review because the author’s last name triggered a keyword in the facility’s system.
“Obviously, we’re not going to touch that book for any reason,” Ms Hewitt said.
Nor should you, Ms. Hewitt, even if a book features a gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual, polysexual, or pansexual character, because those are all perfectly fine ways for human beings to express their sexuality.
All of this, of course, leads me to my books and my last name.
If the last name Gay is being flagged by some bigoted computer algorithm as sexually explicit, what the hell will it do when it sees Dicks?
Honestly, I’d be honored to be flagged by some hate-fueled algorithm designed by a bunch of sexually repressed, morally reprehensible, small-minded monsters.
In honor of this stupidity, I’ll be sending Cindy Hewitt – who may be a perfectly wonderful person working in a repressive, intolerant system – half a dozen copies of Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend and several of my envelope-sized pride flags.
It will either serve as a donation in support of her library system (if she’s a good person) or as a means of poking fun at a bigot if she’s a bad guy.
Either way, I’ll enjoy it.
“Matt and Jeni Are Unprepared” – ONE NIGHT ONLY!
October 10, 2023
Five year plan?
I played golf last week with a guy who works in the corporate world. He’s got a degree in math and an MBA, but he also has a newborn son at home and wants to find a way to spend more time with his family. He’s fed up with the corporate culture and has done well enough to make a career change without worrying about finances for a while.
Teaching, he has decided, is the way to go.
Once he discovered that I was a teacher, he immediately began asking question after question about the profession, including the fastest way to earn a teaching certificate. I explained Connecticut’s ARC program to him, a three-month process by which college graduates can become teachers in specific areas of need throughout the state, including math. “You could start the program in June and be teaching in September,” I said. “One of my best friends did exactly that. He left the corporate world in June and was teaching math in Hartford in September. That was 17 years ago, and he’s still teaching today.”
The man was enthusiastic about the process and asked a dozen follow-up questions as we walked the course together. With each step, his enthusiasm seemed to increase.
As we made our final putts of the afternoon, he thanked me for the information and said, “That program sounds great. It’s still a little pie in the sky for me, but I think it’ll make it part of my five-year plan.”
Five-year plan?
Really?
1,825 days to achieve a goal?
I don’t understand people who talk about five-year plans.
Five years ago, I had yet to begin consulting in corporate America, nor had I ever foreseen doing so or dreamed of doing so. My consulting business consisted of a few local companies and little more.
All meetings were done in person.
Today, I spend hours every week meeting with clients from Fortune 100 companies both in person and on Zoom. I work with companies like Amazon, Microsoft, Salesforce, Smuckers, and more. I consult with the FBI, Olympic gold medalists, and world-class mountaineers. I work with magicians, comedians, musicians, attorneys, and the clergy. I work with universities like Yale, Harvard, the University of Connecticut, and MIT.
None of that was on my horizon five years ago.
Five years ago, I had not published a book of nonfiction. I had not published Storyworthy, which has become one of my most successful books and opened the doors to corporate America for me. I had not published Someday Is Today, which has led to me consulting on productivity with scores of people in the public and private sectors. I had not published Twenty-one Truths About Love, a book written entirely in lists that my editor and I thought ridiculous.
Five years ago, I had not written and performed a solo show. Had not launched my business, Storyworthy, which records and produces online courses for people worldwide. Had not launched our podcast.
None of these things had even occurred to me back then.
Five years ago, I did not have four of my newest friends. I had not introduced two of my friends to golf. Had not taken an interest in aviation and flown a plane for the first time.
Five years ago, the idea of a global pandemic did not exist.
Five years ago, I was not watching my son play Little League baseball. I wasn’t watching horror movies with a daughter who once feared everything.
None of these things has ever crossed my mind five years ago.
A five-year plan?
How ridiculous.
In today’s ever-changing world, we should explore and expand at every opportunity, making five years impossible to predict.
Instead of a five-year plan, how about a six-month plan? Or a three-month plan? In five years, this guy’s son will be entering kindergarten. He may have more children, planned or otherwise. His company could declare bankruptcy. The United States could be at war with Canada.
Five years is a lot of time. If he’s serious about wanting to change his life, spend more time with his family, and find a way to make a difference in the world, why wait five years? Having an intimate and personal understanding of how short life can be, I wanted to tell this guy to ditch the stupid five-year plan, go home, and sign up for the damn program.
I didn’t. Ultimately, this guy seemed too invested in this five-year plan to deter him with my few nuggets of wisdom, but I am left wondering where he will be in five years.
Will he be the teacher he wants to be?
Will he be spending more time with his family?
Will he have left the corporate culture he despises in his wake?
Who knows?
It’s five years away, for goodness sake! But I can guarantee that none of these things will come to pass this year or the next. That’s the thing about a five-year plan:
It allows you to do nothing for a long time.
October 9, 2023
Me, my siblings, and a what?
A new photo from my childhood. Few exist, so every time another is uncovered, I’m thrilled.
My sister, Kelli, sent me this one.
I’m on the left, if you couldn’t tell.
I’m happy to have it, but I can’t help but wonder what the hell the photographer was thinking when framing the shot:
Three children holding flowers of some kind. My sister, Kelli, and my brother, Jeremy, are sitting alongside each other, but I’m about a foot to the right of Kelli, with some object occupying the space between us.
A fence post? A spear? A large bamboo flute?
The photographer didn’t think to tell me to move over before taking the shot?
How I would love to have a time machine to return to this moment of the past and see all that I have forgotten.
October 8, 2023
A note to Little League parents
Sitting amongst the parents of Charlie’s Little League opponent this weekend, I listened to parents shout instructions to their children as they stood at the plate, ran the bases, and fielded their positions.
May I humbly suggest to all parents of Little Leaguers that you stop doing this?
As a teacher, I can assure you that human beings can only process so much information at one time. Teaching is also best when it is logical, systemized, and scaffolded – each skill mastered piece by piece.
When my golf coach first observed my swing, he saw dozens of problems needing correction. He began with one, then moved onto the next, then onto the next, in a sensible, logical, optimized order.
He did not give me five swing thoughts. He gave me one or two, and I did not receive another until I had mastered them.
This is how instruction works. We can’t fix everything all at once, so we work foundationally, allowing mastery to occur in a logical, optimal sequence.
If the coach is instructing your child on how to hit, field, and run the bases, allow that coach to do their job.
Yes, perhaps it’s true that your child needs to raise their elbow. And yes, it’s probably also true that your child needs to lay off the high ones. Your child may need to stop aiming and just throw the ball. And yes, that throw to third base to catch the runner was probably ill-advised, but allow the coach to deliver this instruction.
Not you.
Kids don’t need two or three voices in their head when they are attempting to hit a ball. They don’t need two or three swing thoughts circling their mind in that moment of supreme focus and pressure at the plate. They don’t need parents shouting out the location of the cutoff man or telling the second baseman to throw to first instead of home.
How would you feel if you had two or three bosses offering you different instructions throughout your work day?
Human beings learn best when they have one person delivering one set of coherent, logical, scaffolded, coordinated instructions. They do not need to hear the coach, a parent, and the parent of a teammate all offering their thoughts and advice while playing the game.
You’re not helping. You don’t understand the nature of teaching. You don’t understand how people learn best.
You also don’t seem to remember what it’s like to stand behind those white lines and play the game. Baseball is a game in which every eye is focused solely on you in moments of objective success and failure that ultimately determine the outcome of the game.
Hit the ball or make an out.
Catch the ball or drop it.
Strike the batter out or issue a walk.
Dribble a grounder to first base or rip a ball to the left field fence.
Steal second base or get caught trying.
Drive in the winning run or strike out to end the game.
It’s not an easy game to play. It’s especially difficult when you are young and constantly worried about what your friends and teammates will think about you. When your ego is still not fully formed, and the slightest blunder can crush your spirits for days. The last thing kids need in these pressure-packed moments is a multitude of voices offering advice and instruction while they try to do their job.
Leave the instruction to the coach.
Instead, cheer on your child. Make them feel loved. Support them in victory and defeat. Purchase them sugary treats and copious amounts of ice cream.
But please, for your child’s sake, stop instructing your child in the midst of the game. If you’d like to offer instruction or advice to any player – including your own child – volunteer to coach the team. Join the staff. Become a part of the instructional unit.
Otherwise, clap and cheer. Leave the coaching to the coaches. Your child will be better for it.
October 7, 2023
Surprising conversational partner
I told a story at a Moth StorySLAM in Boston last week.
After telling my story, I made my way to the restroom.
The restroom is gender-neutral. I’ve performed at this theater many times and have used this gender-neutral restroom many times, and I have no issues or complaints about men and women sharing the same restroom facilities. I’ve entered the same restroom with female friends at this location and others on countless occasions and thought nothing of it.
Except for last week.
As I entered the restroom, I was followed by a young woman who wanted to tell me how much she enjoyed my story. But because she was trailing behind me, I had already made it to the urinal by the time she entered the restroom and began speaking to me.
“I loved your story!” she began and proceeded to tell me that she’d read my books, watched my stories online, and really connected with me through my stories.
It probably shouldn’t have bothered me, but standing at a urinal, taking care of business, and then suddenly hearing a woman somewhere behind me, attempting to engage me in conversation, was a little startling, to say the least.
I probably would’ve been startled if the person had been a man since this isn’t something that men typically do in a restroom, but the fact that she was a woman made it especially disconcerting.
Either I need to get over this particular hang-up, or she needs to learn the nuances of restroom politics when urinals are involved.
Maybe both.
October 6, 2023
Not dedicated to…
Sandra Boynton became my favorite children’s author when my children were very little. Nothing made me happier than reading one of her Pookie books to my children.
One of our favorites of her non-Pookie board books was But Not the Hippopotamus.
I think the story and illustrations are charming, and Clara seemed to enjoy the taste of the book a great deal, which led me to this thought:
Artificially-flavored board books. Awesome… right?
I’ll have to see what my agent thinks.
My favorite part about But Not the Hippopotamus was the dedication, which reads:
For Ash and Kyle but not Paisley
I’m not sure who Paisley is, but the dedication is clearly a play on the title and probably not meant to offend.
But as I ponder the dedications for two of my upcoming books, I find myself thrilled with the possibility of not dedicating the book to someone as a means of retribution, cruelty, or mean-spiritedness. Rather than honoring someone with a dedication, now I have the potential to dishonor someone instead, or perhaps as well.
It opens up a whole new spectrum of options and puts a brand new spin on choosing the perfect dedication.
Don’t you think?
October 5, 2023
Silent records
It’s estimated that 50% of people who buy vinyl records don’t have record players.
I understand that certain people find joy in collecting, but this seems a little ridiculous.
But here’s the stranger statistic:
48% of people who own record players never play the records they buy.
I understand the desire to keep things pristine in hopes they will escalate in value over time, but are half of all record sales really being made by people who hope they will be more valuable in the future?
41 billion vinyl records were sold in 2022. If these statistics are correct, 20 billion records are sitting in boxes throughout America, untouched and unplayed.
If these statistics are even half right, 10 billion records bought last year alone remain unplayed.
If all of this is true, record collectors are in for a rude awakening since the world seems awash in unplayed, mint-conditioned records, just waiting to become rare and valuable.
People are so weird.
October 4, 2023
The Unpopular Opinion Game
Things Many People Love that I Do Not
PicklesWes Anderson filmsSteely DanMacy’s Thanksgiving Day ParadeCoffeeBathsJam bandsSoccerTacosMayonaiseSaladEmojisSleepAlcoholWill FarrellSushiShoppingReality televisionNow share your list!
October 3, 2023
RIP Tim Wakefield
Former Boston Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield passed away on Sunday at the age of 57. I’m a Yankees fan, of course, but I’ve always liked Tim Wakefield. Wakefield was a former outfielder turned knuckleballer who carved out a 19-year career for himself. He won 200 games for the Red Sox, made an All-Star team, and won two World Series.
Not bad for a failed outfielder who discovered that he could throw a knuckleball while playing catch in the outfield.
Tim Wakefield and I also go way back.
Back in 1995, I was playing my second season of fantasy baseball. It was a different game in ‘95 and perhaps a better game. The internet did not contain the vast stores of information it does today, and many people lacked access to the network.
Back then, if you wanted to be a great fantasy baseball player, you had to hunt for information from every source imaginable. I would buy two or three newspapers a day, watch every iteration of SportsCenter, and even catch sports on the local news in the evenings, hoping to find tidbits of information on injuries, changes in starting rotations, and blossoming rookies in the minor leagues. I would keep track of player’s statistics through box scores and spreadsheets, negotiate dozens of trades with other owners over the phone, and spend hour upon hour on the game.
I do nothing halfway, and when it gets competitive, I focus all my energy and attention on the task at hand. For two years, I lived and breathed fantasy baseball, which is why I no longer play.
I simply do not have the time to play the game properly.
But 1995 was a different story.
Amid the ‘95 campaign, Red Sox ace Roger Clemens was injured, and the team had called up the relatively unknown Tim Wakefield from the minor leagues to take his place in the rotation. Wakefield was originally an outfielder for the Pirates who had converted himself to a knuckleballer in an attempt to remain in the major leagues, and it had worked. Wakefield went on to post a 16-8 record in 1995 with a 2.95 ERA.
Outstanding fantasy baseball numbers. He finished third in the voting for the Cy Young Award in 1995.
A couple of weeks after Wakefield had joined the team, it became apparent that he was going to be a star, so I called my fantasy league commissioner, Mike Lavin, to pick the player up for my team.
“My brother, Bob, already tried,” Lavin said. “But league rules state that the player has to be in the team’s minor league system at the beginning of the year. Wakefield wasn’t.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m a Sox fan. Of course, I’m sure.”
It’s remarkable to think how Wikipedia or a website like ESPN would one day render conversations like these mute, but at the time, I could not rely on the internet for my answers. Not trusting Mike’s assertion, I did what every serious fantasy baseball owner would do:
I called the Red Sox public relations office. I battled with secretaries and team spokespeople until I was finally put in contact with the Pawtucket Red Sox assistant general manager, who confirmed that Wakefield was in the minor league system at the beginning of the year (while also confirming that I was the only fantasy baseball owner ever to call the front office).
Then, I convinced the assistant general manager to call Mike and confirm Wakefield’s presence on the team in April.
When Bob learned what I had done, he protested, stating that since he had put in a claim on Wakefield first, he should get the player, regardless of my efforts. Mike, however, sided with me, saying that I was the one who went the extra mile in confirming Wakefield’s place on the team and, therefore, I should get the player.
I think Mike was just jazzed by the fact that the assistant general manager of the Red Sox AAA squad had called him at work.
Thanks partly to Wakefield, I went on to win the league that season and promptly retired from all fantasy sports as champion.
Being the way I am, I could not play the game without the intensity of a major league pitcher, and having just started college the year before, I knew that my priorities lay elsewhere.
Rest in peace, Tim Wakefield. Despite playing nearly your entire career with the Red Sox, I always admired the way you played the game.
