Avoiding Mirrors

Allowing my anger to get the better of me has been a lifelong struggle. As I've gotten older, more often than not, I find my anger triggered when I'm frustrated. For example, earlier today I was yelling at my lawnmower when I had trouble with it. Though I'm relieved I learned early on to not (usually) direct my anger at others, people close to me are still sometimes subjected to unnecessary temper tantrums when I'm frustrated.

Given my own struggle, I do find myself giving wide berth to anyone I sense might have trouble controlling their anger. Doesn't matter how regularly I interact with someone with anger issues. If I pick up a vibe like that, I steer clear of that person. I realize anger is not contagious and also know I'm responsible for my own behavior. But even if my strategy is a bit illogical, I look at it as a way of avoiding a toxic mirror. Which mirrors do you avoid?

Actually, despite how illogical my strategy may be, I'm inclined to think avoiding mirrors is probably wise for me. I already spend a fair amount of time looking at myself without using others as mirrors.

Reading Riches

Once upon a time, before committing to the practice of keeping a book journal (April 2010), starting my blog (March 2011), or discovering Goodreads (January 2013), finishing a book involved little more than jotting down a few impressions on the final page, if the book belonged to me. 

Long ago, before attending my first book club meeting (May 2010), followed by being in/out of more than a dozen others (June 2010 - early 2015) prior to initiating a book club of two with a reading soulmate (summer 2015) and then starting my own club (January 2017), discussing books - except with my partner of forty-seven years - was a welcome but rare occurrence. 

Nowadays, the amount of activity that routinely follows the completion of nearly every book is roughly equivalent to a part-time job. I'm not complaining. By a significant margin, it's the most satisfying part-time job I've ever had. This is true because whether it's writing about books - in my journal, as a blog post, putting a review on Goodreads, or sometimes all three - or discussing them with that reading soulmate or the folks in my club (did I mention I'm also in an all non-fiction club?), all this additional activity helps to both extend the glow of excellent books and assist me in recalling more of what I've read. How do you ensure the riches of your reading life remain with you?

p.s. Silly to close this post without recommending something, right? The Beekeeper of Aleppo (2019) by Christy Lefteri is worth your time. It's a straightforward, unsentimental, sometimes harrowing tale of refugee life. Hard to read a book like this and not recognize how fortunate I am.

Fixing a Disconnect

Without question, one of the best gifts I've been given in Act Three has been the new friends I have made. These friends have come from book clubs I've joined, people my wife and I met through Road Scholar, folks from my music classes or my wife's involvement in the native plant movement, to name just a few sources. It would be difficult to over-state how much we've been enriched by these later-in-life friendships. 

There is, however, one small disconnect with respect to these friendships. Maybe you can relate? If so, perhaps you've got an easy-to-implement solution that has helped you minimize the disconnect?  

Whenever the single most important element in our life comes up in conversation with any of these new friends - that would be our daughter - these wonderful people are missing serious context. Although a few of them have met our daughter once or twice, others have never had the pleasure. In other words, our daughter is largely an unknown to these newer friends. And, of course, the reverse is true for us, i.e., we have almost no idea of much that's going on in the lives of the grown children of these same friends. In almost all cases, we can't even insert a face into any of the pictures that have been painted for us of these people who have meant so much for so long to the people who now mean so much to us.  

Not long after my wife first made me aware of this disconnect, I began wondering: Is there an easy-to-use, elegant app out there somewhere that can help with this? Even I, the reflexively disdainful cell phone basher, would welcome having an app dedicated to this end. I suppose I could start using "notes" to help me easily retrieve information about these people I may never meet but I'd still want to have a current picture alongside the critical stuff I want to remember like age, occupation, relationship status, location, # of children, etc. How better to show my newest friends how much they mean to me than by remembering things about the people that mean the most to them?     

A Triumph

The best way I can think of to adequately capture my musical triumph from about a month ago - without sounding boastful - is to keep it simple. 

There were about one hundred people in the auditorium including several from a local book club I belong to, some fellow hikers, folks from a writers group. The audience was with me from the start, evidenced by their enthusiastic participation to my impromptu request for a sing-along with Amazing Grace, the song used as historical context to kick off my ninety-minute presentation. The central premise of this offer, a synthesis of three earlier classes I'd delivered elsewhere: Music's critical role in reflecting and shaping the zeitgeist.  

Aside from a technology glitch or two, everything else fell into place. I'll never tire of exposing people to transformative songs like Strange Fruit or Hello in There or guiding them to listen to Nowhere Man or Big Yellow Taxi with fresh ears. I'm still vibrating.  

"If there were no music, I would not get through." - from I Don't Know Why (1993): Shawn Colvin  

  

 

Celebrating a Milestone (100 and Counting)

Watching The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry within days of finishing Rachel Joyce's eponymous novel, I realized anew how a faithful film adaptation helps cement the story line of a good book into the brain, even with the liberties often taken by screenwriters. Readers who are film buffs: Haven't you found this to be true? And in this case, because both were terrific in the roles, I've already forgiven the casting of Jim Broadbent as Harold and Penelope Wilton as Maureen vs. Bill Nighy and Helen Mirren, my obviously superior choices as I visualized the characters in my mind's eye while reading. Bookworms who are movie geeks: Do you do this? If yes, who have you cast in lead roles from the last novel you enjoyed?  

But even before breaking my record for the shortest duration of time between finishing a strong book and seeing an equally strong film adaptation, I knew Joyce's charming and moving novel would have a secure place in my RAM. Because The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (2012) is #100 in the queue of books a reading soulmate and I have discussed since we kicked off our book club of two in 2015. Yes, I've been keeping track; it's something I do. List available on request.  

Today's discussion of our milestone book was unexpectedly enhanced as we arrived at the coffee shop where all but a few of our one hundred monthly meetings have taken place. Not only had the owners "reserved" our regular table, they also treated us to cupcakes & cookies, and asked if they could take pictures of us for their Instagram feed. 

My favorite part, aside from our usual rich conversation? My reading soulmate designed a bookmark listing all one hundred titles. It immediately took its place alongside my book journal entry for The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. How did you most recently celebrate a significant milestone in your life?

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Bookonnection #4: Brief Encounters

Growing Older Together, Separately

A peculiar thing happened a few nights back, re-watching The Deer Hunter for the first time. When that film was released in late 1978, my wife and I had begun our life journey just eight months prior. It wasn't the first movie we saw together, but it was certainly one of our earliest. 

I was absorbed in the first scene that Robert DeNiro and Meryl Streep ever shared in a film and happened to glance at my wife as she was watching. Inexplicably, I flashed to how she looked sitting in the movie theatre next to me when we first saw The Deer Hunter. I then looked back up at the 1978 faces of DeNiro and Streep, very early in their enduring careers. Suddenly, my brain began unspooling scenes from some of the movies featuring De Niro and Streep that my wife and I have seen together over our forty-seven-year history. I waited for the film to end, opened my laptop, and perused their Wikipedia pages. Take a quick look and share with me a favorite film featuring one or the other of these gifted actors. I'll wait. 

Robert De Niro filmography - Wikipedia

Meryl Streep on screen and stage - Wikipedia

Given that massive body of work, aren't you able to easily anchor at least one milestone from your own life to a DeNiro or Steep movie from the same year? What milestone? Which film? In the meanwhile, even though Bob and Meryl are not aware of it, it now feels to me like the four of us have been growing older together, separately, for quite some time. This is especially true when I think of all that has followed from that first time my wife and I saw The Deer Hunter. 

p.s. Compared to many films from the same era, The Deer Hunter has held up remarkably well. 

Today's Medicine

Isn't it fair to say most of our days are spent either gearing up, doing, or winding down?

What percentage of your time would you estimate you routinely spend gearing up for the day ahead? Avoid judging the things you consider gearing up. If you work full time, chances are good you spend fewer hours gearing up each day than folks who don't, like me. Also, if you're raising children, the line between gearing up and doing can be more difficult to parse. Think of a typical day and give it a shot without overthinking. Call it gearing up, getting started, finding your groove, but while making your estimate, avoid putting anything in this bucket that is aimed at "accomplishing". 

Next part of today's thought experiment is likely to be trickier. What percentage of your time would you estimate you spend aiming to accomplish something, i.e., what I call "doing"? Although full time work clearly falls into this bucket, again, avoid judgments, even if your work can sometimes feel like you're not "doing" much. Think of this as the bucket with goals or aims or objectives attached to it, even if the goal is simply to make a living. 

I suspect estimating the percentage of time you routinely spend winding down might be easier than the first two, if only because winding down activities are generally those aimed at relaxation. Most of us can readily identify what we do to wind down/relax. Remember: Avoid judgments or comparing what you do to wind down to what others who you know say they do.  

Now for the question that most interests me. Except for those who struggle with sleep, most of us are awake about sixteen hours each day. As of this moment, what calibrations do you feel are called for in the percentage of time you routinely spend in each bucket? For some time now, I've been feeling like the percentage of time I take to gear up has gotten a little excessive. I know for sure I didn't start out my post full-time work life with so much gearing up each day. That said, I'm not at all convinced that increasing my percentage of doing is the right answer for me this moment, especially given how goal oriented I've always been. And those forty years I spent working full time - often with more than one job at once - are still pretty fresh in my mind.        

At sixteen hours a day, I've had about 438,000 hours so far to gear up, do, wind down. This moment? I'm feeling like more hours in the winding down bucket is the right medicine. Maybe moving up one or two of my regular winding down activities - e.g., meditation - to the start of my day will help reduce the excessive gearing up? Worth a try. Future calibrations? No doubt. With an optimistic 58,000 hours still in front of me, today's medicine is not necessarily going to work indefinitely. To keep the system in balance, fine tuning must be an ongoing process. What are your strategies for correcting any current imbalance you're feeling?

Another Maxim Dumpster-Bound

 Still waters run deep.

Although that hoary maxim may have some aqua-related validity, I'm about ready to jettison it in its most often-used application, i.e., with people. My life experience has repeatedly taught me that the enduring strong-silent archetype of literature etc. is often flawed. Perhaps some of those still waters run deep, but then again, they can also be stagnant. 

Before the strong, silent introverts out there begin objecting, I freely acknowledge that we extroverts - at times - have clearly earned our bad rep. Being called outspoken, opinionated, and arrogant have all applied to my mouthing off on occasion. On the other hand, isn't it possible that some taciturn types are silent as frequently as they are because they don't have much to say? A few traits I've observed in some still waters folks have tempted me to toss that tenacious trope into the nearest dumpster. Two examples:  

* A tendency to paint the world in black & white, either/or terms. Those bi-polar constructs exclude any kind of multi-dimensional thinking while also reinforcing confirmation bias. When nuance is misplaced - by either still waters man/woman or an extrovert like me - shallow conclusions, not deep ones, are the result. In other words, keeping it simple is fine; offering simple-minded answers to complex questions doesn't automatically make someone deep.  

* A predilection for staying on the surface both in relationships and conversations. More than one strong silent type I've known has told me they don't need "...any new friends...". Transactional relationships are OK; those pose little risk of intimacy. You know, what you can do for me or mine is fine. What either of us can do for the world? What for? And the conversations? Many of mine with the still waters cohort I've known have focused on either other people or events; sports are reliably safe. Over the years, I've tried intermittently to introduce ideas, feelings, life dreams, etc. into some of those conversations. Hasn't gone well.

What is your take on this maxim?   

A Formidable Legacy

Although the first third was too heavy on tech bro-speak for me, Mountainhead is worth watching for a few reasons, not least of which is to marvel at the acting versatility of Steve Carell. Fair warning: The premise is sadly plausible, the cluelessness of the four tech-bros disturbingly familiar, the celebration of unbridled avariciousness sickeningly real. In other words, the laughs throughout this recently released satire come at a cost, just as they are intended to.

Now about Steve Carell. Put aside his well-deserved notoriety as Michael Scott, the king of smarm, on the long-running TV series The Office. Instead, try remaining unimpressed with his range in Forty-Year-Old Virgin, Little Miss Sunshine, Foxcatcher, Beautiful Boy, and now Mountainhead. Like all actors - or writers or musicians for that matter - he's had his share of duds. But those five films alone - never mind his nearly flawless consistency in The Office - represent a formidable legacy. 

In his stunning writing/directing debut, Jesse Armstrong had the good sense to end Mountainhead with an extended closeup of Carell's expressive face. No words, nothing else in the frame. I defy anyone to remain unmoved. It's no exaggeration - and a testament to Carell's gift - to say I will never forget the final shot in this blacker-than-coal comedy.       

An Act of Simple Courtesy

 When was the last time an act of simple courtesy prompted you to speak to a total stranger?

While engrossed in a book on a train ride into NYC, the cell phone of the man sitting directly across from me rang. I sighed, anticipating a scenario that has frequently happened to me: My reading reverie would now be interrupted by a conversation of indeterminate length that I had no interest in overhearing. Instead, this gentleman said quietly - "I'm on the train; I'll call you back when I get to the station." And then he hung up.

I was almost too stunned to talk but soon realized this act of simple courtesy must be acknowledged. I said - "Thank you for not prolonging that call; that was courteous and respectful." He smiled at me. I returned to my reading.

I know this is not profound; perhaps it's not even unusual. Still, when he said to me "have a nice day" as he left the train and I said "you do the same" in return, I felt something genuine had occurred. And I smiled to myself reflecting on how his act of simple courtesy had been the catalyst for our interaction.

Bookonnection #4: Brief Encounters

Most of us can readily identify the people who have had a significant impact - for better or for worse - on our lives. When I've asked others about this, I'm unsurprised when folks first cite their parents or longtime romantic partners. After that, in my experience, it's harder to predict who might come next to mind when someone is asked about this aspect of their lives.   

Aside from being worth your precious reading time, Now Is Not the Time to Panic (Kevin Wilson, 2022) and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Rachel Joyce, 2012) have little else in common. The former is a coming-of age story about two teenage misfits who upset the lazy summer equilibrium in their small Tennessee town. The titular character in the latter is a recently retired Englishman who impulsively decides to visit a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in twenty years.  

But imbedded in each of these well-crafted and moving novels is a perfectly realized vignette about people who briefly enter the lives of the main characters, leaving a profound imprint. Fifteen-year-old Frankie Budge and sixty-five-year-old Harold Fry are each powerfully shaped by these encounters. Has this ever happened to you? More than once? How old were you at the time? Have you ever told your story to anyone? If you did, how successfully were you able to put into words the impact your brief encounter had on you? I love stories like this; I'd welcome hearing yours. And I think others would enjoy it as well.    

If you don't think you have a story like this, let me recommend you pick up either of these worthwhile books. I'm guessing that one or both of these talented authors will remind you of a story of yours similar to either Frankie's (with Dr. Blush) or Harold's (with Martina). Then, after you relive your story via Frankie or Harold, please try to remember to return and tell me about it.  

National Technology Turnoff Day

On this - my fourteenth attempt - I believe I've nailed it.

For this barren month without a single national holiday, how about we declare August 1 as National Technology Turnoff Day? Given how uphill this battle is likely to be, I propose we start with just the two steps below. I welcome any ideas you have for ways to build momentum here.     

1.) No device of any kind permitted in any public place on August 1. Just as we now ban smoking in public places year round, on August 1 only, the same goes for cell phones, tablets, laptops, etc. Picture families speaking to one another in restaurants, every train compartment being a quiet car, etc.   

2.) In residences, private citizens wishing to show support for the technology turnoff alert family, friends, guests, etc. that no devices are allowed in their home on August 1. Imagine conversations uninterrupted by ringing phones or buzzing text messages and people relying on their memories to recall information.  In a private residence, any fact in dispute can be settled via a reference book (dictionary, Atlas, encyclopedia!) or can wait for an answer until August 2.

As attached as I am to all thirteen holiday proposals I've made here on August 1 beginning in 2012, this one could be my favorite. That said, I purposefully waited to publish this post until just before August 1 became August 2. Wanted to be sure you read it - probably on August 2 or later - i.e., after National Technology Turnoff Day had ended. My ubiquitous rants about technology's intrusive and distracting effects on modern life and relationships always exclude my blog. 

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.": Walt Whitman