By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Mar 29, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
I’m so relieved that society does not judge us on our thoughts but only on our actions.
I’d hate to be accountable for my thoughts. They aren’t dangerous. Just, well, hard to explain away.
For example, I was eating lunch alone in my car today–a turkey sandwich. Out of nowhere I start thinking about how I’m really glad that animals can’t talk. And I hope we never teach them to.
For one thing, what would we talk about? It’s hard enough making conversation with other humans. Besides, no matter how good we get at small talk with animals, we can only avoid the inevitable “Big Question” for so long.
Eventually a turkey (or some other animal) will ask, “So, why do you eat us?”
And the truth is I don’t have a good answer. All I can say is something along the lines of the primitive logic, “Look, I’m bigger than you and smarter than you and you taste good. That’s it. End of story. Let’s please talk about a less awkward subject.”
Just typing this response makes me cringe–and reinforces to me this is a conversation I’d like to avoid.
And besides, what other subject could we move on to after that uncomfortable segue? It’s just not realistic.
But even without an eloquent explanation, I’m not giving up turkey.
Well, my lunch time ran out on this thought. I’m on a business call now and sounding very professional –using lingo from my MBA and law degree. Very impressive. I’m on my game.
And I’ve almost completely stopped thinking about conversing with turkeys.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Mar 27, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
How do you know the parent-child relationship has changed?
Forever?
Think of those sweet conversations. Explaining the mysteries of where God lives; of how TV marketing works; reading Catcher in the Rye and smiling knowingly together at the bad words; chatting up sports and politics –as you, the parent, realize he’s closing in on you.
And then one day, there’s a small crack in the universe, and your role as big “P” parent to the little “c” child is whisked away.
For me it was a conversation in our kitchen yesterday.
Child: “So Dad, have you gone through a mid-life crisis yet?”
Parent: “Well…ummm. Well. I guess. I think I have.”
Child: “Think? Uh, it usually happens in your early 40s and your 48”
Parent: “Yeah. No…I uh…I have. Yes. I was in my ….probably late 30s. I was precocious (Laugh)”
Child: “Do you know why you went through a mid-life crisis?”
Parent: “Yeah. I mean…not really. I mean I do from a spiritual standpoint. I mean…look, when you get to mid-life it’s depressing. You either haven’t achieved your dreams so you are depressed. Or you have achieved them and they haven’t brought you the happiness you expected, so you are depressed. And so, you know, you recalibrate your goals and values for the second half of life.”
Child: “No, that’s not why. That’s an interesting explanation but the real reason is menopause.”
Parent: “Male menopause?”
Child: “No! Female menopause. There is a high correlation between when wives go through menopause and when men go through mid-life crisis. You are good with psychological theories but that’s the scientific explanation.”
Parent: “Well, but I had mine and mom hasn’t…I mean. What is menopause anyway? Exactly? I mean, I know …sort of but….the exact, precise, scientific definition of menopause?”
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Mar 26, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Featured below is perhaps the funniest outtakes video I’ve seen.
Along with a “Viewer’s Warning” I’d like to see:
Warning: (The unedited version). There is inappropriate language and suggestive themes. Not recommended for viewers under age 17 or over age 56.
There are a few between the ages of 17 and 56 who will pretend to be offended if they watch. But they will actually find the video very funny and will be the most likely to watch it multiple times. Isn’t it always like that? The reason for their feigned shock is probably because the character played by Will Ferrell reminds them of a family member, perhaps an uncle they have tried to forget.
They really need to get over it. Their uncle isn’t really a bad man. Just confused and misguided. He’s actually doing the best he can and does have some redeeming qualities and can be fun to be around (albeit in short spurts) if these people would stop judging him so harshly and try to get to know him a little better. But don’t hold your breath for that to ever happen.
Anyway, if you are between 17 and 56, you’ll probably enjoy this video. If you are one of those who don’t enjoy it and find it offensive, please keep it to yourself and don’t ruin it for the rest of us. Thank you.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Mar 23, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
At movies and ordered a medium Sprite and was asked “Would you like a large drink and popcorn?”
I then said, “No, I’ll take a cookie and no drink” To wich I was asked, “Would you like a large popcorn and drink?”
I chuckled, smiled empathetically and said, “Let me ask you something. If I ordered 10 of everyting, 10 large everythings, would you still have to ask me if I would like an extra popcorn and drink with that?”
The clerk smiled apologetically and answered. “Afraid so.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Mar 22, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Modern parents are often criticized for being too soft on their kids–with both advice and expectations.
Today I wrote and sent a letter to my son for his senior retreat. It was supposed to be full of wisdom and fond memories we have had together. And, I suppose, I took an admirable stab at both.
However, I keep chuckling about how telling my letter was.
The first paragraph was a long apology for sending him out into a rainy campground without electricity or running water for several days.
Followed by a second paragraph which apologized repeatedly for not having any new wisdom that I’d saved up just for this occasion– and that I was basically just recycling old wisdom and advice he’d already heard from me dozens of times.
Which makes me wonder if he’ll even bother getting to the third paragraph.
Which I forgot to apologize for and may catch him completely off guard.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Mar 20, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
”You know it’s time to change your Facebook profile information when (fill in the blank).”
I just had a ski trip cancelled…which forced me to also reconsider my FB profile information.
I list skiing as my favorite sport. When I filled out my FB profile a couple of years ago, it seemed like a good idea. Skiing as my “favorite sport” made me sound sporty and interesting–and I even believed it at the time.
But today’s cancelled ski trip got me thinking. I’ve actually only been skiing twice in the past 28 years. I really don’t think that should qualify as a “favorite sport” —even for a person who has been deceased for 3 decades.
I’ve spent more time playing skeet ball the past 28 years!
So, in a flush of full disclosure, I’m getting brutally honest and changing my favorite sport from the cosmopolitan sounding “skiing” to the more mundane but factually correct “taking the stairs” –which I’ve done more than 3 times the past 28 years.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Mar 15, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Hope your conscience is greater than your cleverness.
When I was about eight or nine years old I tried tricking my mom into giving me money I could spend at Thornbury’s Toys.
I told her I was curious about how checks worked and wondered if she could teach me. My mom was impressed with my curiosity and desire to learn and that I took the initiative to ask. She happily pulled out her check book and started going over each line and how it needed to be filled in.
“So, for example, let’s say it is going to be for $10. Where would you write that?” I asked.
My mom showed me where on the check that went and wrote in the amount in numbers and then in her beautiful cursive longhand.
Next I pointed to “Pay to the order of” line and suggested, “Let’s say it’s for, I dunno, like, Thornbury’s Toys. Is that where you’d write out ‘Thornbury’s Toys’?”
“Yes! Exactly!” My mom replied, excited to see I was really paying attention and understanding this lesson….and gladly filled out that line “Thornbury’s Toys.”
I asked her to please finish filling it out and asked if I could keep the check to study and memorize. She proudly signed her name, wrote “Toys’ in the “For” line and handed over my homework assignment for me to “study,” as I requested.
Well, you see where this is going. I proudly took the check and went back to my bedroom to try to now figure out how I could get a ride to Thornbury’s—and not from my mom.
But something awful and unexpected happened. Guilt slowly crept in. A loyalty to my mother and to honesty began to displace the excitement I was feeling about the possibility of buying a new toy. And the sense of cleverness started to feel heavy and burdensome like something I should be more ashamed about than proud of.
In fact, the feelings were so horrible, without understanding what was happening to me, I immediately tore the check into tiny little pieces and threw the pieces away behind my clothes drawer–where no one would find it.
Several years later when we moved to a new house—and the clothes drawer was being moved–I was standing there to pick up those little shreds of paper, which signified the still alive little shreds of guilt. I hadn’t forgotten them…or the lesson I had learned.
I’m so relieved that society does not judge us on our thoughts but only on our actions.
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