First Impression 6.0

I'm confident asserting that the fundamental aspects of my personality - especially my temperament - haven't shifted much over my lifetime. How about you? Putting aside behavioral changes you've made to help you better navigate the world, would you say you've remained much the same person over your lifetime? Or would you claim you're fundamentally different? In what way? 

Still, assuming I am - as I believe - much the same now as I've always been, I'm just as confident saying that the first impression I make on others has shifted radically over my seventy-six years. And in my case, that's been a good thing. How about this element of your make-up? Has the first impression you make on others changed a great deal over your lifetime? If your answer is no, I'm guessing you either don't care about the first impression you make on others or, you've been largely satisfied with how things have gone for you in that respect and have stayed the course. 

But if like me you've decided - perhaps more than once - to change course in this respect, I'm curious to know what prompted your shift. Was it feedback someone close to you was good enough to offer? Was it adverse reactions from new people you met that persuaded you? Was it something you read or a conversation with others about this important skill? Was it watching others who struck you as being particularly inept - as I've often been - at making a good first impression?

Based on recent experiences, I'm considering iteration 6.0, first impression-wise, an average of a new one for each decade of my adult life. My latest tweak is not - as have been most of the changes that drove me to discard earlier iterations - being driven by an embarrassing incident or pleas from people close to me. I guess that's at least good news, right?   

You're in Good Hands, Numerologists

Numerology has never been of even passing interest to me. That said, some random unconnected stuff from my life that culminated during the writing of this post will keep me alert for at least the next thirty-three minutes.  

In order:

1.) After publishing A Shoutout on Myrrh's Day on 2/26, I was reasonably sure what the likely subject of my next blog post would be i.e., the fact that each of the last three novels I'd read prominently featured twins. This struck me as blog-worthy for two reasons: a.) All the books are worth reading so I'd planned to combine three recommendations into one post, soon. b.) Each book came at me from a different direction. The three have nothing in common, except for those twins. Considering the number of possible book subjects vs. the ratio of single to multiple births worldwide, just that coincidence is a little weird, no? 

2.) Life interfered. My next post - on Saturday 2/28 - ended up marking time. And I still wasn't ready to write about much of anything else as today began.  

3.) When my sister asked me early this a.m. what I'd been reading recently, I told her about the weird twins-in-three-books-in-a-row bit. Then I offhandedly asked for her guess of the percentage of the world's births that are multiple. I had no idea of the answer and told her so, just a casual question, not unlike many such questions we've asked one another our whole lives. Her guess = 10%; I said I would have placed it closer to 1%. We left it there. 

4.) About an hour ago, after realizing I'd recovered enough from Saturday's curveball to write about something other than that, I came back to the books, those twins, and then recalled the conversation with my sister. Decided to ask Siri the multiple births question. Any guess before I get to the finish line? It's 3%. 

Before the last odd bit, I'll mention the books to ensure you at least get some reading ideas. a.) One of Us (2025) by Dan Chaon; selected in a pure library drive-by - on the strength of my adoration of an earlier novel by Chaon (Await Your Reply - 2009) - while looking for a novella by John Cheever. b.) The Sea (2003) by John Banville; a short meditative novel I've been meaning to get to ever since enjoying Banville's The Untouchable (1997), and also because Booker prizewinning books rarely let me down. c.) The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett; been sitting in our home library since soon after its publication in 2020, a novel my wife read and recommended to me years ago.    

Ready, numerologists? Last three finished novels feature twins, 3% worldwide multiple birth rate, the post I planned to write postponed - because life interfered - now being published on 3/3.  If I were shameless, I'd wait to publish this until exactly thirty-three minutes past the hour. But I can't risk freaking out the numerologists. I need every reader I can get.   

Not Today

Since the inception of my blog, life has thrown a fair share of curveballs at me. I'm certain all of you have had just as many tossed your way, perhaps more. 

What do I know this moment? None of us get through life unscathed. What do I do next? Be there for the people who depend on me. 

When will it feel OK to publish something here that is unconnected to my pain?     

A Shoutout on Myrrh's Day

Over a music-obsessed lifetime, I've yet to run across a single song that uses Thursday as its focus, let alone in its title. I'm certain some have been written - a quick AI search no doubt would uncover a few obscurities that have escaped this geek - but surely Thursday holds the record for least celebrated day of the week, musically. 

And there's a plausible explanation for Thursday having remained forever in the musical cold. I mean, what is it exactly that sets today apart from its brethren? What feature gives Thursday any distinct flavor at all? Monday is all about getting busy, Saturday is a bad day to run errands because everyone has the same idea. Wednesday = hump day, thank God it's Friday, don't depend on everything being open on Sunday, day of rest, family dinner, etc. Thursday's only competition for being without a personality is Tuesday. But in that case at least the Moody Blues sang about Tuesday Afternoon. And many years before, Ira Gershwin memorialized that almost-as-nondescript day by rhyming it with "my good news day" in The Man I Love. Rhyming possibilities for Thursday? A little thin. Try it. Maybe it's her day? Perhaps liverwurst day? 

What we clearly have here are two musical tiers. That is, even folks who've given this admittedly arcane matter no thought - most folks, I would imagine - could readily name at least one song with Monday, Friday or Sunday in its title. That's the top tier. The bottom tier - Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday - has definitely gotten far less musical attention. But Thursday? Tier-less, barely a mention (I don't count that throwaway line "Thursday goes too slow" from Friday on My Mind), a day without a notable theme song. If I get on it right now, this could be my shot at musical immortality. Stay tuned.

Upending Low Expectations

Given my indiscriminate movie jones, my low expectations for genre films are bound to be upended periodically. Such was the case when I recently stumbled across The Marksman (2021). 

Although this Liam Neeson vehicle dutifully checked off many of the "action" boxes - car chases, lots of gunfire, stoic hero and cardboard villain - there were several touches that helped elevate it above pure popcorn fare. Here are a few:

* The actor playing Miguel (Jacob Perez) is wholly believable as a young boy grieving his mother. The solid script deftly juxtaposed Miguel's grief as counterpoint to Neeson's recent loss of his wife. 

* The vast reach of Mexican drug cartels using modern technology is presented matter-of-factly. That wise choice made the scary parts of this tense story credible and even more terrifying.

* The final two scenes - no spoilers - are perfectly balanced.   

Bottom line: With my low expectations for action films going in, I was prepared to be diverted, at best. Instead, I was involved throughout and more surprisingly, quite moved at the end. Can't recall the last time I used the word "moved" referring to an action film. What was the last instance when your low expectations were similarly upended, by a film, a book, some music, or otherwise? 

Request for Musical Assistance

Though it's only been sixteen months since his initiation, I'm pleased to report my grandson's musical instincts are nearly flawless. Because my daughter and son-in-law are doing a reasonably good job with the music they curate for the little man's enjoyment, I'll begrudgingly take just 99% of the credit for his impeccable taste. 

So far, his jazz chops are rudimentary but that will dramatically improve as soon as I can persuade my daughter to have my Spotify playlist - fifty-three ever-expanding hours - playing during his every waking hour. On the other hand, his latest "find" from that unimprovable playlist - Those Shoes - is a clear sign that his ear for expertly crafted popular music cannot be questioned. If that mesmerizing lesser-played Eagles song from The Long Run is not on any playlist of yours, my condolences. 

Despite his unimpeachable musical tendencies - thanks to the extraordinary tutelage his grandfather is providing - much remains to be done. First, more concert music needs to be added to his diet. Second, that playlist must continually reflect the best that contemporary popular music has to offer. Allowing my inner fuddy-duddy or any conservative and/or stodgy musical propensities to interfere with the little man's education is unacceptable. That's where you can help. If you have ideas, please share them with me. I will listen to whatever you suggest without judgment or comment. If a song you turn me onto ends up on that playlist? Thank you in advance on my grandson's behalf. And I'll ask him to give you a shoutout on his fifth birthday at his Carnegie Hall debut.    

Reflections from the Bell Curve: Initiation to the Miracle of Music              

Creating a World with Words

"We don't see the world as it is but as we are".

Because of work I began doing in the early 90's, I've spent the last 35+ years paying a great deal more attention to the way my language shapes my world. Early on, behaviorist Albert Ellis helped me learn of the effect of "shoulding" on myself and others and also to avoid the trap of "musterbation". Then Deborah Tannen and other linguists helped me reduce my over-use of absolutes like always/never and everybody/nobody when speaking. Later, my mentor - who'd studied with Fernando Flores - assisted me to shed weak and/or insincere expressions like "I'll try". All these teachers guided me on a journey toward speaking more powerfully and authentically. 

My latest challenge in this world of cognitive restructuring is to stay mindful of language that sends a message of rigid certainty. You've all heard many of these expressions casually tossed around: "I'm sure (or positive or certain) of it".  Or ... "I know this for a fact". Words like these send a clear message to others i.e., "This is the Capital T Truth". Which expressions of certainty do you routinely use that might shut down inquiry or meaningful dialogue with others? Ever been trapped in a certainty loop like I was recently? 

I'm driving with a friend. Though the GPS was directing us, I said more than once I was sure we were going the wrong direction. My patient friend did not react. Only after realizing I was incorrect did it occur to me how my certainty had temporarily blinded me. Was that repeated word of certainty (sure) before or after the thought of being "sure"? Doesn't matter. My language had let me down. We create our worlds with words. In this instance, I'd tried - in vain - to make the world fit my words. Work to be done. 

Music Supervisor for Hire

On the strength of Solo (2013), William Boyd has joined my destined-to-never-be-completed list of 100 favorite authors. Though spy thrillers are not a go-to for me, this novel clearly demonstrates how an author as talented as Boyd can adhere to a formula and still remain fresh. His control of the narrative, his prose, and the way he effortlessly integrates all the expected elements of the spy genre are masterful. It's easy to turn the pages and lose sight of the expert hands holding you. What a gift.

Because this is an authorized "James Bond" novel, the central villain needs to hold his own alongside Dr. No, Goldfinger, and Jaws, to name just a few from Ian Fleming's stable of memorable bad guys. Boyd's creation - a sadistic mercenary named Kobus Breed - is that guy with "...his usual shifting cocktail of moods - at once jovial, wired, and sinister." Boyd also handles other predictive Bond tropes, e.g., the alluring women, the compelling intrigue and double/triple crosses, the lethal gadgets and sleek cars ("...the virile baritone roar of the engine...") with equal finesse. 

When some astute filmmaker gets around to adapting Solo - or any of the other three William Boyd novels I've greedily devoured that have yet to make it to the screen - I'm available as music supervisor. In that made-for-me capacity, I won't even insist on using one of my own compositions for any of those film scores, although I have been lobbying my daughter into making something like that happen with her upcoming film gig for Disney. Just saying. I did help pay for her college education.    

Reflections from the Bell Curve: Another Keeper