Dom Testa's Blog, page 9

The Other Side of The Bell

I’ve read that scientists are working on a real cloak of invisibility, one that would allow you to simply disappear. I can save them a lot of time and trouble, because I’ve stumbled onto the secret:

Become a bell ringer for a charity during the holidays.

A friend of mine volunteers every year, standing outside a grocery store, wearing a Santa hat and ringing the bell. Once again this year I joined him. We stood together for hours in temperatures well below freezing, stamping our feet to keep warm, and occasionally darting inside to grab hot chocolate.

When he took a break and left to run some errands, I manned the donation kettle and shook the little brass bell. It was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life.

I observed human nature in action, a real-life lab experiment on how people behave in what - to them - is an awkward relationship. Some people couldn’t have been nicer, whether they plopped money in the kettle or not. They’d say hi, maybe make a comment about the cold, or at least nod.

But the majority of people who strode past on that busy afternoon were determined to avoid eye contact. I had become, in some respects, invisible.

So, for the record, and to offer an assist for people - maybe you - who don’t know how to handle that situation during the holiday season, allow me to explain the point of view of those on the other side of the bell.

We’re not “bums” looking to pocket your money. I make a terrific living as a writer and morning radio show host; my friend is a very successful attorney; many others have similar careers. We ring the bell because we believe in giving back.
 We can see you. You might race by on a mission, but craning your neck to avoid glancing our way is actually kind of funny. It looks almost painful. You don’t have to do that.
 We’re not judging you by your actions. You may have donated earlier, and, if so, millions of people appreciate it. You may be in a hurry, and just want to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible; we all can understand that. Or you simply may not care to give anything. Trust me, nobody will resent you.
 It won’t hurt you to merely acknowledge the presence of the bell ringer. It’s what your parents would’ve called basic, common courtesy: a nod, a wave, a hello, a Merry Christmas. It doesn’t commit you to donating anything. It’s simply the nice thing to do. Trust me, I won’t take your decision personally.

Hey, I’m no saint. For ages I did the neck-crane myself, fearful of establishing any connection with that stranger outside the store. But over the past few years I’ve volunteered with several charitable causes, and I’ve witnessed every possible contortion that a body can do to keep from making eye contact.

And now, after another stint in the cold outside that store, I want to spread the word: Bell ringers are there to help, not to pressure you. If you have some extra change to give, great. If not, could you at least spare a smile?

Happy holidays.

 

Originally published in 2013 . . . but still relevant. ;)

We're Moving Thanksgiving and Halloween - Pass The Word

I like Christmas, but I love Thanksgiving. It’s got everything you want in a holiday: time off from work, a chance to hang with family and friends, a little bit of football, and the best food of all time. On top of that, while it might inject a little bit of stress, it doesn’t come close to the crushing pressures we associate with Christmas.

The only problem is that Thanksgiving comes at the wrong time. Let’s move it from late November to the fourth Thursday of October. Here’s why:

Right now it’s bunched up against Christmas; we barely have time to digest the stuffing and pumpkin pie before we’re making plans to have the family back over again. Arguably the two most-popular, most-involved holidays of the year, and they’re thirty days apart? At the very least let’s add a buffer month.

(Side note: I try to host what I call “Maysgiving” every late May. The Thanksgiving meal is probably the greatest meal you’ll have all year - and yet we only do it once a year? Silly. So I schedule another one halfway around the calendar. The guests I’ve had over have yet to complain.)

Mother Nature

Much as you might want to discount it, weather is a huge factor. Thanksgiving creates travel plans, with more than 40 million Americans either on the road or in the air. Nothing snarls family plans more around the holidays than Mother Nature. We can tolerate it at Christmas because . . . well, there’s that whole White Christmas thing that gets us all emotional. Yet no one ever - ever - got sentimental over a blizzard at Thanksgiving. No, we get pissed.

Yes, it’s possible for it to snow at the end of October, and sometimes it does. But rarely are there October snows like there are late-November snows. Have YOU ever been stranded in an airport for 14 hours during a snowstorm? I have. And it was at Thanksgiving, not the end of October.

We want to gather with friends and family for turkey and such, but we also love the idea of going outside and tossing the football around. Late October is glorious; late November is bordering on SAD season.

(If you wanna get specific, the average Denver temp for the end of November is 48 degrees. Late October? It’s almost 60. Chew on that for a moment when you think about catching a pass.)

Plus, with the time change not happening these days until early November, it’s still lighter a little later in October to accommodate those who have to drive over to in-laws, etc. People in blended families will appreciate this.

So, breathing room between two major holidays, warmer weather, far less likely to have a “snow event,” easier travel, and it stays lighter later. Who can argue with any of that?

Halloween In September

Of course, since we’re moving Thanksgiving to October, Halloween will have to adjust. It can now take place annually on the last Friday of September, which is much better for the little tykes gathering candy.

Consider this: While, as stated, it doesn’t snow often at Halloween, it can happen. And while it’s rarely a blizzard, it can get nippy when the sun goes down. That means little Ella, who’s dressed as a princess to go trick-or-treating, is putting a coat over the costume that Mom or Dad worked so hard to get perfect.

Yes, not as many kids go door-to-door these days - but is it possible that the weather has something to do with that? If it’s a gorgeous fall evening, wouldn’t we be more likely to get out and enjoy the walk?

Obviously, if you live in Florida or Southern California this means zilch to you. But for those of us who actually experience four seasons, this is relevant.

I live in Denver, so I’ll include that data, but I’ll also use New York and Chicago, too. That’s three time zones.

Here are the average temperature differences between late September and late October for all three metropolitan areas:

Denver:
Afternoon of September 30 - 71 degrees
Afternoon of October 31 - 59 degrees

New York:
Afternoon of September 30 - 69 degrees
Afternoon of October 31 - 59 degrees

Chicago:
Afternoon of September 30 - 69 degrees
Afternoons of October 31 - 57 degrees

(Source: AccuWeather stats)

That’s a 10-12 degree difference. Not huge, you say? No, but in the evenings, how many times has a ten-degree difference felt like twenty, especially when it’s dark?

Snow

Then there’s the chance of snow. October is not a big month for snow - here in Denver we have measurable snow on Halloween about once every seven years. Late September, on the other hand, rarely sees any snow at all. You’re more likely to see an 80-degree day than a 30-degree day.

And, for the record, the last time it snowed in Denver in September was in 2000, and that was less than a quarter of an inch. Suffice to say, the princesses will rarely, if ever, be bundled up. Here are some more stats (I do my homework):

Denver:
Inches of snow in October: 4
Inches of snow in September: 1.3

New York:
Inches of snow in October: 0.3
Inches of snow in September: 0.0

Chicago:
Inches of snow in October: 0.3
Inches of snow in September: 0.0

Twilight (not the books)

Here comes that darkness element again. You don’t want your little ghosts and goblins out in bright sunshine; that’s just not in the spirit (pun intended). But it’s nice to hang on to a touch of light for at least the beginning of their rounds. Does one month make much of a difference? Yeah, in some cases close to an hour, but at the least 45 minutes.

Sunset in Denver on October 31st is 5:58 - when some people are just getting home from work. Halloween on the last Friday of September would mean daylight lasting until as late as 6:53 in some years.

You can get home, get everybody fed, into costume, and out the door at the peak of twilight. Nobody’s rushed, and kids are safer. How can you argue with that?

It only makes sense to move Halloween to the last Friday in September: no school the next day, parents can stay out late, schools can plan appropriately, but it doesn’t need to be a day off. So having a holiday at the beginning of the month (Labor Day) isn’t a problem; nobody will miss school or work for Halloween.

Besides, as we know the holiday these days, Halloween on a Monday (like this year) is the worst. I’d go so far as to say it’s dumb.

Objections

You can tell I’ve given this a lot of thought. That means I’ve also anticipated the arguments I’m sure to get, such as:

“You can’t move Halloween because of the connection with All Saints Day and All Hallows Eve the night before.”

Yes, we can. There are some people who equate Halloween with the Celtic festival of Samhain - and yet most people have never heard of that. They know Halloween as dressing up as slutty nurses and giving out candy to kids. Let’s not kid ourselves that the vast majority of Americans take a quiet moment to honor Samhain. No, they don’t. And if Pope Gregory III could randomly select November 1st as the day to honor saints and martyrs, we can just as randomly select the last Friday of September. Ol’ Greg never had to bundle up kids and take them door to door, or to a school carnival. Besides, the saints and martyrs will be just as honored whenever we choose, right?

“You can’t get good pumpkins in late September.”

Yes, we can. I was at the grocery store in mid-September and the front of the store was a virtual minefields of pumpkins.

“But we’ve always done it the way it is.”

No, we haven’t. Historians tell us that the earliest Thanksgiving likely fell sometime between late-September and early-November. That puts the third or fourth Thursday in October right in the bullseye.

Remember, Christmas originated as a way to honor the birth of Jesus, and yet the majority of experts say there’s no way - according to all the correlating information - he could’ve been born in late-December. We move dates all the time. Hell, the Super Bowl used to be in mid-January, and it’s now almost a month later. If we can move the freakin’ Super Bowl, we can move Halloween.

And, honestly, if you’re someone who argues by saying “We’ve always done it this way,” then you have bigger problems. Have you ever stopped to consider that you might LOVE having Thanksgiving in October when it’s ten degrees warmer and you aren’t shoveling snow so Uncle Doug can park in your driveway?

“You’re only going to move Christmas shopping up another month, and it’s already too long.”

Image courtesy of Rodion Kutsaev

Dude. Have you seen the stores in September? There are Christmas decorations out and “holiday sales” already beginning. Moving Thanksgiving to late-October won’t rush anything. Stores have been capitalizing on four months of Christmas shopping for decades. Some ridiculous radio stations around the country start playing Christmas music in early November. EARLY NOVEMBER!

If anything, this adds a much-needed breather between holidays and could actually cause some people to wait a bit longer before going crazy. They won’t feel that late-November pressure.

“We like the tradition of football on Thanksgiving.”

You can have football on Thanksgiving in October. Maybe you didn’t notice, but there are now football games on EVERY Thursday. Uh-huh.

There you go. We’re moving up Thanksgiving and Halloween for practical, common-sense reasons. Pass the word.

Then pass the pie.



Images copyright Dom Testa, except where indicated
Thumbnail photo courtesy of Ruth Caron

Giant Leap

He was barely old enough to walk, but his dad thought it would be cool to introduce the little guy to airplanes. So off they went to an air show, where little Neil sat atop his father’s shoulders and watched the flying acrobats. Three years later, he took his first ride into the sky, aboard a small airplane affectionately known as the Tin Goose. It was July 20th, and he was five.

Thirty-three years later - to the day, strangely - he climbed out of a different flying machine and kicked up some lunar dust. On July 20th, 1969, Neil Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the moon.

Today is the anniversary of both of those achievements: Neil’s first airplane ride, and the day he descended the steps of the Eagle lunar module. There’s something about the date coincidence that I find very powerful.

You see, from an early age Neil was energized by the idea of flying. I can only imagine how big his eyes must've been at that early air show, and how his pulse probably raced once he was strapped into that tiny cockpit at age five. That energy - what we often label passion - never faded. He was hooked, and he embraced that enthusiasm all the way to the moon.

His first lunar step has been called "one giant leap." But if you think about it, giant leaps are relative, aren't they? We all have our dreams, our visions for a dynamic future where we live the plan we've so carefully imagined . . . but they don't fit a template.

It doesn’t matter if you’re five or fifty; the thrill of discovering a new passion, of finding that one special thing that hijacks your thoughts and - more importantly - your heart, is profound. But we often get sidetracked, or, worse, discouraged.

Maybe we think the dream is unattainable, which is really another way of saying we've lost confidence in ourselves. Or sometimes it's the opposite: we don't think the leap is giant enough, maybe not worth the effort. We compare our dreams to what others are accomplishing, and find ours lacking.

Both of those are mistakes. Your giant leap probably looks nothing like mine, and it shouldn't. Likewise, something that's a big step for me might be something you could do in your sleep. The important thing is to identify your leap, and then take it, regardless of what anyone else thinks or does.

For Neil Armstrong it was simply a matter of looking up from the perch on his dad’s shoulders, shielding his eyes from the sun, absorbing the sights and the sounds of mechanical marvels. Think back and remember where you were when you discovered your passion. Then think about what you can do right now to take the next step.

Instead of using January 1st as your marker for instigating positive change in your life, why not borrow Neil’s lucky day? It’s hard to imagine an event more inspiring than a moon walk, a milestone that was decades in the making. Let July 20th be the beginning of your own moon shot.

What giant leap will you make, starting today?

Images courtesy of NASA

The Wrong Path

Thought-A-Day calendars are generally pretty cheesy. (Today’s thought: You CAN do it!) For years, though, I’d receive them as Christmas gifts, and I’d dutifully flip that page every single day. It usually produced an eye roll from me.

Until one day it didn’t. On a random Thursday in August I tore off the preceding page to find this Turkish proverb:

No matter how far you’ve traveled down the wrong path, turn back.

I stood in my kitchen looking at that page for a full minute, thinking. Then I thought about it on the drive to work. And, when I got home later, I preserved the thoughtful page on my bulletin board.

The proverb is both simple and profound - hell, for all I know that may be the very definition of a proverb. But this particular sentence hit me hard. At the time I was involved in a personal relationship I had no business being in. I’d known it for quite some time, but was reluctant to end it for one ridiculous reason: I’d invested so much time and effort.

Many times it’s not a personal relationship, but a professional one. You’ve been at a job for so long that it seems crazy to throw it away and start over again. All that seniority, all those benefits, all that accrued time off, and on and on.

It’s a pride issue. We add up all the months and years we’ve put into a personal or professional relationship and resist making a change simply because we hate to feel like a failure. In some cases the hesitation is warranted; I would never advocate blowing up a relationship just because you’re in a temporary trough.

Sometimes, though, you just know it’s the wrong path. Everything screams that you need to make a change, but you won’t pull the trigger. Maybe you don’t want to give up because it will somehow - at least in your mind - invalidate everything you’ve built. Maybe you keep trying to convince yourself it’ll work itself out.

Or maybe you’re just plain scared. No shame in that, my friend.

Turning around is hard, maybe one of the hardest things we’ll ever do. We’re afraid of how things will turn out, or how others will be affected. But let me assure you: If it’s the right thing to do, the sooner you do it, the better. All you’re doing now is marching farther and farther away from the right path, and you have only so many years to soak up the happiness that comes from being where you need to be.

(Although it’s just as cheesy as the calendar, I’m reminded of an old Diana Ross hit. She sang: “Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you?”)

After sleeping on the advice of that Turkish proverb, I ended the relationship. All of the fear and worry was for naught; it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. My new path brought me back into the sunshine.

Give some thought today to your own path. Is it the one you’re supposed to be walking? Is it bringing you the joy you should be experiencing? Is today the day you push aside the fear and plot a new heading?

Take a deep breath, and keep reminding yourself: It’s not failure; it’s a course correction.

The Myth of Life Balance

An article recently caught my eye, and not because it involved a celebrity. (I personally find stories on celebrities to be mind-draining and borderline painful, but I suppose there are people who can’t go a day without reading about Taylor’s current love. People are different.)

This piece focused on a comment Reese Witherspoon made regarding life balance. Or, to be accurate, the lack of life balance when you choose to work while raising a family. The interview in the magazine Southern Living quoted her on work/home balance: “No one’s really doing it perfectly.”

I suspect she’s right, but I’ll go a step farther: I don’t think it’s even possible to have balance. When we choose to do more than one thing - and I think you should be doing multiple things in your life, but that’s another post - we have no choice but to make one a higher priority.

It’s how we actually get things done. Something must rise to the top, or we’d be perpetually paralyzed. If you define the term life balance as simply paying a little bit of attention to everything, then I respectfully suggest you’re deluding yourself. A little bit here and a little bit there isn’t life balance, it’s more a life buffet.

And we all know that at a traditional buffet we might put the same amount of salad on our plate as we do potato salad, but we sure aren’t eating the exact same amounts of each. C’mon, man, it’s potato salad!

That’s how it is with work and family. Sure, we could spend eight hours at work and then try to spend eight waking hours with the family, but are they both getting the exact same amount of attention? Please. As you’re reading this your kids are likely staring at a screen somewhere, oblivious to you.

So if I were you, I wouldn’t beat myself up over a perceived lack of balance. It’s not possible. We can, however, spend quality moments with each. The attention pendulum swings back and forth in any given week or month, with one getting more while the other suffers.

The idea of pure life balance is a myth propagated by self-help-book authors, to whom you gladly give your money in exchange for platitudes that (temporarily) make you hate yourself a little less.

I say: Stop hating yourself. You’re participating in life’s buffet, and this week your job might very well be the potato salad. With any luck, next week your husband and/or kids can be the ice cream with chocolate sprinkles.

Enjoy it all.

If you enjoyed this piece, I'd love for you to comment. Plus, you might also like:
Music as a Soul Refresher
The Quality Queue
Six Square Inches

Calendar photo courtesy of Eric Rothermel

Wallpaper

The bed-and-breakfast sits about a mile from the historic City Centre of Canterbury, tucked into the somewhat-modern suburbs of the British town. The perfect distance, as it turns out; one can find a peaceful night's sleep outside the hubbub of the action, but get in a good walk when it's time to explore.

With a backpack slung from one shoulder, I cross a pedestrian bridge over the A28 and approach the stark, gray stone walls encircling the city. They're about a thousand years old, and look it: forbidding, in a way, and yet softened over time by weather and distress.

Cars whip by, blurring the faces of the drivers as they hurry past, on their way to another appointment, continuing what likely is an ordinary day. I pause on the bridge, sipping some water, and wonder: Do the people racing along even know these walls are here?

A few hours later, sitting at an outdoor table at The Old Buttermarket - having switched from water to lager - I chat with a local named Devon and float that question. "Well," he says with a half smile. "It's like this. You're from Colorado, right? I 'spose you don't notice the Rocky Mountains anymore, do you?"

Then he lifts a pint to his lips and we both take a moment to savor his wisdom.

Image courtesy of Yoal Desurmont

It reminded me of the day, years ago, when I climbed the steps of Rome's subway system, smack into the daunting image of the Colosseum looming overhead. Two thousand years old, and now flanked by fast-food restaurants, pharmacies, and a dry cleaner. Did the old guy manning the newsstand across the street ever see Emperor Vespasian's handiwork? Or had this colossal stone monument merely become wallpaper?

We usually travel with a tangible purpose: to visit friends, sightsee, experience new cultures, or to fulfill a wish list. As Paul, a teacher from Wales, told me, "People just go places to tick them off a list; they have no other reason for doing it than to say they did."

Which may be true for some. But what I've realized is that, regardless of the original intent, our travels deliver an intangible benefit of getting away.

We recognize what has become our own wallpaper.

Because Devon's right. I've had the stately Rocky Mountains as a backdrop for almost thirty years, and I'll admit there are days when I never see them, even as they radiate through my windshield. I've become numb to the glory before me, just as these commuters in Canterbury are blind to a fifteen-foot stone wall that has embraced their city for more than a millennium.

Mt Cameron, one of Colorado's 14ers

And there's no shame in this; we become oblivious to things around us over time, whether it's a mountain range, a medieval cathedral, or - unfortunately - a loved one. We're stimulated on a regular basis by an overwhelming influx of new data, new images, and we lose sight of the majesty of a Coliseum . . . or a person.

But a change of scenery revives the wonder, if only temporarily, and allows us to appreciate again. When I land at Denver International Airport after ten days in the UK, I stop in the concourse and gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

At my glorious wallpaper.

More Than a Book Signing

After doing book signings for more than ten years, I wanted to offer up an explanation of how my signing events have changed - for the better - and why you might wanna drop by sometime.
 

If you’ve been to an author’s book signing event, chances are you found a writer sitting behind a table, staring up at people and holding a pen in his/her hand. Maybe there were people in line. Maybe you were the only person there.

I can tell you, from an author’s viewpoint, it’s a daunting activity. Sure, when Nora Roberts or Neil Gaiman do a signing the line is around the building; that’s a very cool feeling.

But it’s also likely that every author you’ve ever heard of has done a book signing where only three or four people showed up. (Boulder writer John Shors has one of the funniest stories ever about a first signing. Dude had me laughing out loud.)

Personally, I’ve had signings with more than 250 people packed into the store (that’s a huge thrill), but also one classic signing in Houston where I spoke to three: the store manager, an old high school buddy I hadn’t seen in years, and some random guy who just happened to be wandering through the store. All you can do is laugh.

These days, however, my signings are different. As long as we’re going to get together - and since we obviously share a love of books - I use the events to talk about writing. Not just my writing, but yours. Or at least the writing you really want to do.

I’ll talk about my journey, how I was a closet writer (just like you), and how I finally got the nerve to submit my work. Then I’ll answer every question you have about writing, editing, publishing, selling, anything. I may not know everything, but I can steer you to sources to fill in the blanks.

This is a much more rewarding format, I think. Book readers and book writers are really the same species, and often it only takes a nudge to move a person from the first category to the second.

It's a somewhat-cheesy cliche, but I do believe the biggest regrets we have are because of the chances we don't take. I hope you’ll stop by, and bring anyone who also has an interest in the process.

Hey, sometimes we even have cookies.
 

I’m speaking/signing this Saturday, June 11, for Barnes & Noble’s Teen Book Fest in Colorado. From noon until two I’ll be at the Denver West location (near Colfax and I-70), and then from 3 until 5 at the Southwest Plaza location (Wadsworth and Bowles). Hope to see you there!

The Absolute Laws of a Garage Sale

My friends chuckled when they heard I was having a garage sale. I guess I’m not what you’d consider “garage sale material” - whatever that is. True, the last time I did it Reagan was in office, but I think that’s just about the right frequency. Everyone should have a garage sale once every thirty years.

Of course, now I’m an expert. Not because I’m so experienced in the ways of peddling and bartering, but because I’m a lifelong learner and first-class observer. While you may simply sell your junk and pocket the dollar bills, I study the process and the people.

And, by doing so, I’ve developed: Seven Iron-Clad Laws of The American Garage Sale

Law 1:  Don’t take it personally. If you’re sensitive, or emotionally attached to your junk, stop right now and donate it to a non-profit. Why? Because nobody - and I mean nobody - will love your crap like you do. They’ll paw over it, grunt, and throw it back onto the pile while you watch, heartbroken, and think, “How can you not rejoice at finding Jerry Maguire on VHS?”

Law 2:  Figure out how much you want to price everything, then cut that price by 75 percent. No, really.

Law 3:  The goal is not to make money (although you might do pretty well). The goal is to get the crap out of your house. Therefore, see Law 2.

Law 4:  Nine out of every ten visitors to your garage sale will be women. And, of the men, nine out of every ten of them are there only because of the aforementioned women. That means a mere one percent of your serious shoppers will be motivated men, and if you don’t have a lawn mower or grill they won’t even get out of the truck.

Law 5:  Technology from the 20th century will not sell. At all. No matter how much you’re convinced people will fawn over your CD collection, you’d have to wrap them in bacon before someone would touch them.

Law 6:  Expand your revenue streams. While I watched people completely ignore my books and CDs, a little girl down the block set up a lemonade stand and made about $200 in two hours. Bitch.

Law 7:  Look, here’s the bottom line. Your garage sale will be wildly successful if you sell only three things: Women’s clothes, purses, and jewelry. That’s it. (See Law 4 above.) We had about a hundred other items strewn across the driveway, and EVERY SINGLE WOMAN flocked to the clothes, purses, and jewelry. It was as if Ryan Reynolds was lying naked in front of the racks.

I have to admit, although my portion of the sale was less than spectacular, I enjoyed the sunshine, the fresh air, and the people watching. After five hours I’d pocketed about a hundred bucks, which ain’t bad. Next stop for the leftover crap - er, treasures - will be the non-profit referenced in Law 1.

Good luck with your sale. I’ll be ready again in 2046!

One of My Books Was Banned?

My goal was simple: Give away 1500 books - written under one of my pen names, Buster Blank - to elementary schools. Dozens of schools signed up for the giveaway, eleven were selected, and congratulatory emails were sent. Next stop? Happily delivering boxes of free books to schools that too often must scrape together funds in order to purchase library materials.

But wait, not so fast; something strange happened on the way to Littleton, Colorado. One of the winning schools, in the course of a week, shifted from accepting $850 worth of books to BANNING the book entirely from their campus. Even as I write these words I’m shaking my head.

You might assume the book is edgy, chock full of foul language, or rife with sexual innuendo. No, no, and no. Or perhaps you think the book encourages delinquent behavior. Nope. Ah, then the book must take a political side that would surely cause strife. Again, no.

The book has none of that. On the contrary, it ends up teaching an important, valuable lesson regarding social acceptance - something I thought all schools were hungry to impart to their students. And yet, this particular public school wants nothing to do with the story.

And what killed the book at this school? The title. The book is called Shaking Demons.

The school’s instructional coach - who somehow wields decision-making power over the rest of the faculty - claimed, “. . . we are worried we would have some parent concerns due to the social/emotional concerns of students here as well as religious beliefs.”

I’m confused. Religious beliefs? There are no satanic demons in the story. There’s nary a single religious reference in the book. The so-called “demons” in the title essentially act as the main character’s conscience, helping him to ultimately make a wise and thoughtful decision, teaching him - and the reader - to accept others and to be open to new people and ideas.

This isn’t a rant against one school’s choice. In fact, since posting my puzzled reaction on social media, I’ve received no fewer than six passionate offers from organizations to help me “fight this.” I have no interest in that; there are many schools who not only have embraced the book, but have raved about its message and its impact on their students. I won’t waste energy attempting to convince one teacher of the book’s value when there are hundreds of other schools hungry for it.

The bigger issue, I believe, is the irrational frenzy to shield kids from anything which might be perceived as offensive. Personally, I detest that word and the suffocating use of it. We’ve reached a point where we cannot simply disagree with something; we must be offended by it. And if one person raises a hand to object to a book, or any other artistic expression, it's often labeled offensive. Ban it!

J.K. Rowling has indeed sold hundreds of millions of copies of her series about a boy wizard, but not without having to bear the cries of those who refuse to allow their children anywhere near it. A fantastic narrative, captivating characters, and your basic story of good triumphing over evil . . . but let’s not expose Ashley to a - gulp - wizard. Heavens!

And now Shaking Demons is blacklisted. Never mind that it could very well be a story that resonates in a positive way with students.

It’s sad. Although you’d think we’re advancing toward a more enlightened, accepting, and open-minded society, I sometimes fear we’re moving the other direction: over-sensitive, over-protective, and terrified of anyone quick to describe their position as outraged (another exhausted word).

Schools and educators who once bravely championed freedom of thought and expression are pressured to play it safe. I don’t necessarily blame them; I sympathize with them. We live in an age of complaints and lawsuits, and sometimes it’s just not worth the fight. Be careful, don’t take any chances, lest a parent loudly protest.

I’m concerned that we’re gradually eliminating one of the greatest assets a child can develop: the power of intellectually choosing for themselves. Instead of presenting a variety of ideas and positions, thereby encouraging a young person to hone their abilities to judge and discern, we’ll feed them only a select menu of approved concepts. Perhaps it won’t be long until books are sanitized for their protection, and can feature only rainbows, puppies, and unicorns.

Unless the horn on a unicorn is, of course, deemed demonic.

* * * * *

I’d love to know your thoughts. Perhaps you agree wholeheartedly with the school’s decision. If so, I’d be interested to hear your opinion.

Music As a Soul Refresher

I was a teenager when Paul McCartney released a single called Let ‘Em In. I was a huge Beatles fan, and enjoyed Paul’s solo work, too - but I hated that song. At the risk of sounding like some intellectual snob, the song was just plain dumb. Consider the lyric: “Someone’s knocking at the door, somebody’s ringing the bell. Do me a favor. Open the door, and let ‘em in.”

C’mon, man. I know Macca wrote some silly tunes in his day (the guy actually released a version of Mary Had A Little Lamb, for chrissakes) but my initial reaction was that he was using his superstardom to just put out anything - really, anything - and his name would sell it.

Which likely was true. The record went to number three on the charts, so either my theory was correct or I was the outcast who simply didn’t get it.

As I write this, it’s now been exactly forty years since Let ‘Em In raced up the charts. Shit, forty years! In 1976 I was riding around with a transistor radio (Google it, if necessary) strapped to my bike. My local Top 40 station, KRBC, blasted all the hits, including Paul’s hits and misses, for me and my friends to enjoy as we navigated our early teen years.

I doubt I’ve heard Let ‘Em In five times since those days. But as I sat at a brewpub today, working on web content, the song rolled out of the speakers. I recognized it instantly - those door chimes at the beginning are unique - and stopped what I was doing to take it in.

And - I can’t believe I’m about to type these words - I enjoyed it.

Please explain! A song I detested for so long is, what, suddenly good? No, that can’t be it. The lyrics are still (to me) inane, and the Liverpudlian doesn’t exactly seem to give it his all vocally. So what gives?

I sipped my beer and chewed on that question, and the best answer I could manage wasn’t all that deep. But I think it’s the only one that fits.

Music is an anchor for us, something connecting us to our fondest memories, or even to our lowest lows. We associate music with our most intimate relationships, with landmark memories, with people and faces. Songs transport us back to a moment in time that seems so clear we can almost smell it.

When I heard this ridiculous McCartney song today, I was suddenly cruising around the River Oaks Shopping Center on my bike with my buddy Jeff, probably listening to Casey Kasem counting ‘em down. And that’s such a positive memory for me, the song somehow absorbed the good energy.

And that’s the real beauty of music, especially the old stuff. It acts not so much as a time machine, but rather a soul refresher. Even the songs we associate with sad times have a way of comforting us today; if anything, they remind us of our humanity, of our emotional being. We feel what we felt, and the past no longer seems like just old, faded photographs. The past is suddenly colored with real feelings, and it doesn’t seem so far removed.

Even the bad is good.

Paul has done better. But he couldn’t have done better with me today.

Bicycle photo courtesy of Becky Day