By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Nov 20, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Sometimes you just have to be tough and put your foot down.
About 25 years ago I became a regular and admiring reader of Business First magazine. I have read it loyally ever since, which is another 25 years.
One of my favorite sections is the “In Person” section that tells about a person in the Louisville community and humanizes him or her with personal details while also explaining their professional arc and future plans. And there is a box off to the side where you get the “personal stats” about the person. Their family, favorite books, favorite movies, what music they have on their iPod, who inspired them, hobbies, favorite TV shows and so on. It’s a lot of stuff, trust me.
Well, here’s the thing. I don’t like admitting this because it sounds kind of vain and probably is. It is vain. But each week for 25 years I read this section and wonder if Business First might do one of those In Person pieces about me sometime soon and I run through each of those questions and answer them myself. And it takes more than just a minute or two.
Well…take 52 weeks (issues) a year and multiply it by 25 years and you have 1300 consecutive weeks of rejection— where not only did I feel slighted by not getting asked to do the In Person section but I wasted several minutes each week imagining how I’d answer those personal stat questions.
Not all of the answers were true, of course. I’d have to balance out the answers so people would be impressed with TV shows I watched, music I listened to and books I was reading –even if I wasn’t reading anything at all. I certainly wasn’t going to say “Nothing” when asked “What books are you reading.” I at least would put down a couple of best sellers and maybe a fiction book or two and probably one classic, like, I don’t know–the Odyssey or something fancy from a long time ago so people will read it and say, “Wow. That John Brown guy is pretty learned compared to the books other profiled people pretend that they are reading.” Everybody knows they are exaggerating about some of it.
If people were completely honest they’d sound like someone who doesn’t deserve to be profiled in In Person because they wouldn’t be any more interesting sounding than you are me. Maybe worse. Think about it. What if they answered it honestly and said,
“Books: “None so far this year but skim the newspaper from time to time. I may read something next year or listen to it on tape. Nah. Probably not. I do enjoy browsing bookstores and read the covers so I don’t waste money buying books I won’t ever read;
Favorite TV: Weather Channel and Girls on HBO;
You get the idea.
In my case I was going to pretend I understood opera if they asked me and say something like, “Yes, I enjoy opera a great deal. Especially the signing. Much of it is sung in Italian, in case your readers didn’t know. I’m reading the Odyssey right now, too.”
I would have had to lie about what music I listen to as well. I probably would have said classical and country (It is Louisville, KY). I couldn’t say “Pearl Jam and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Steely Dan , US3 and Mos Def. And, oh, I like to sing out loud sometimes when I’m in the car by myself. But only sound good when I’m singing to James Taylor. I just don’t have a voice like Eddie Vedder or Anthony Kedeis.”
If I answered like that people would think I was nuts because 50 year olds aren’t supposed to act like that. Even though they do. They are getting older (we are, not “they”) and want to hold on to a few youthful things. Just because it makes us feel better and, well, old dogs struggle with learning new tricks. And that applies to people too. At least those over about 45 years old.
Anyway, after waiting 1300 weeks and thinking through all my real favorite things and pretend favorite things (to impress others), I am giving up this game. I am tired of waiting and feeling rejected
Dang it! I’m just done with the whole thing. It’s over. I have decided tonight I am not going to prepare for the In Person profile piece in Business First any more.
And if Business First ever calls and asks me to do the In Person profile, which they won’t, I’m going to tell them they had their chance–1300 times and I didn’t make the cut and now they can’t have me even if they want me. That I am going to do a In Person profile piece with another magazine and say I am not at liberty to give them the name. (That would be a lie, of course, but give them a taste of their own medicine.) If they asked me later I’ll tell them the big national magazine went under the week they were doing my long and big profile.
Well, it feels good! I feel free. Liberated!
And kinda feel like celebrating by watching an episode of the Real Housewives of New Jersey. Or an episode of Girls on HBO. I really like both those shows. And don’t have any hobbies anyway.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Nov 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Early this morning I realized I was in the wrong lane and was about to miss my turn. I quickly turned on my blinker and slid over to the next lane in time to turn.
However, the driver behind me, was not only frustrated by my last minute lane switch, but she also felt the need to express her displeasure audibly by laying on her car horn– four times. One short perfunctory honk followed by a series of three very long and dramatic honks that seemed to create a melody of disgust toward me and seemed to foreshadow some sort of revenge being plotted against me.
I waved in my rear view mirror that I was sorry and appreciated her generous and courteous allowance for my car to cut in front of her while at the same time duly noting her understandable frustration.
I thought that was the end of our exchange but had that sneaking feeling characters in horror movies get when they are being followed. Not by someone who was curious about me; but by someone who would like to do bodily harm to me.
After a couple of miles a recognized a car that had pulled up beside me and was hovering –and the driver, an attractive but angry blond-haired woman, waving her hands as if to say, “I hate everything about you and hope you burn in Hell for cutting in front of me two miles back.”
How do you respond to that? I acknowledged her but then pretended she was only trying to wave hello to me and acted like I was excited to see my friend and waved back enthusiastically. That is not the reaction she was hoping for and she staid beside me and motioned again in some way that I couldn’t understand but seemed to reflect a sense of frustration that I was ever born. I waved enthusiastically again and again she motioned her frustration that I wasn’t “getting it.”
So then I had a brilliant idea. I held up my left hand and pointed to my ring finger and mouthed the words. “I am married. I am flattered that you are interested –but no way, I am spoken for and am very happily married.” And then added, “Sorry, I’m not selling what you are trying to buy!” And then shook my head in mock disgust I drove off in a huff!
But smiling mischievously. And hoping she would eventually laugh at herself and the situation too.
But still checking my review mirror periodically throughout the day.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Nov 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET There continues to be evidence of an alien people invading planet Earth. Nothing definitive yet but more than just a gut feeling.
These aliens look stunningly like we do. Almost indistinguishable from a distance with identical facial features except they exude more confidence and seem to have, as would be expected of any superior species, seemingly inexhaustible energy.
The main difference that I’ve been able to discern in this alien race trying to displace me is their “youthful appearance.” Most look much like I did 30 years ago only with a much keener fashion sense. And ssmarter, too.
They laugh to an annoying degree about just about anything, which is to say about nothing at all. They seem “happy” in the face of circumstances that no human could be truly happy. This is what gives them away.
They seem taller, too, than most normal humans.
They turn up where you least expect them. Often as checkout clerks at Target or “technicians” at Valvoline. They work the drive-thru windows at fast food restaurants and hold “car washes” on Saturdays. Some are starting to show up in jobs like mine which means they are reaching critical mass. Something has to be done. And quickly!
All I know for sure is that they are real and they are here to displace me. I am not delusional with paranoia but worry about saying anything publicly for fear of being called crazy. I just feel it in my bones.
Shhhh. Wait. One is waking up now in my house. I must monitor their activity. They have even found cunning ways to persuade me to give them money. And car keys. It’s seems like some sort of mind control trick they play on us.
They have voracious appetites and large sharp teeth. When I see one and they look hungry I am starting to fear they might eat me.
I am, I suppose, a willing participant in this alien take-over of our once great planet Earth. I can’t believe this is happening. And yet it is.
It makes War of the Worlds almost laughable. Except this time it is real.
It may be time for real Earthlings to start thinking about a new planet where things can be like they used to be. ; )
By Artur Davis, on Mon Nov 18, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET The prospect of a genuine strategic rethink by Virginia Republicans lasted about two hours, before the off base exit polls gave way to a far narrower than expected loss by Ken Cuccinelli—the kind of “might have been” that provokes more rationalizations than insights. Perhaps predictably, I am in the camp that thinks a game plan of squeezing every last drop out of the political base with no credible appeal to the center, and abandoning state issues in the quest for a referendum on national healthcare policy, was actually lucky to hit 46 percent of the vote (and required a final week of Democratic coasting to get that close).
Because the first part of that formulation has been analyzed to death, I’ll dwell on the second part: the curiosity that the famously articulate Cuccinelli never defined on his own terms why his unfettered conservatism was a virtue. In the perverse way that opposites tend to resemble each other, Cuccinelli’s campaign actually mimicked his Democratic opponent, Terry McAuliffe , by avoiding any discussion of much of the policy landscape that will surface on the next governor’s desk: neither nominee got around to addressing the decision by the state’s flagship university to downscale its tuition assistance plan for low income students; both offered weak and shifting positions on the nature of the state’s energy production future; neither spoke to the question of whether federally adopted Common Core standards ought to be adopted in local school districts; and the subject of whether Virginia will move toward softer or tougher standards for unemployment assistance never came up. The unresolved dilemma of what or who will make up the difference if the federal internet sales tax proposals that are intended to finance a chunk of Virginia’s new transportation plan never materialize? It’s a wide open guess that neither would-be governor got around to mentioning.
The one state level issue that was debated in the race that just ended was, of course, whether Virginia should accept federal expansion of its Medicaid program. But “debated” is a relative term, given that Cuccinelli framed the subject almost exclusively as one of whether Virginia should embrace the Affordable Care Act writ large and McAuliffe’s advocacy for expansion never made its way into a single one of about 35 iterations of his statewide ad buy.
McAuliffe’s contribution to the substance free nature of the race at least made political sense: in focusing on Cuccinelli’s hard edged positions, McAuliffe made the point that his opponent’s governorship might pursue its share of distractions and that coalition building was not exactly a dominant part of Cuccinelli’s history. Fair or not, complete or not, that is at least an accounting of the risks in right-wing leadership, and McAuliffe’s shortchanging of specifics was a necessary concession to his own thin public record and his penchant for superficiality over fine print.
In contrast, a Republican candidate with a reputation for smarts and fluency in defending his views left his agenda so vague, so insubstantial that McAuliffe’s parody of those same views was all but uncontested–unless an undecided voter or a moderate Democrat was persuaded that the kind of man who is “attentive to details and serious” (one stunningly bland GOP ad) and who labored to overturn a wrongful conviction (another Cuccinelli spot that got lost in its own weeds) couldn’t possibly wage a crusade against birth control).
My own guess is that Cuccinelli’s advisors concluded that the social issue terrain was too unwinnable to defend and that a counter-attack on McAuliffe for, say, favoring late trimester abortions offered more risk than reward. (and presumably, that reminding voters of Cuccinellii’s principled opposition to mandatory ultrasound exams in advance of abortions would only dampen the fervor of the pro life grassroots who had been career long allies). It is also true that Cuccinelli took a stab at some of the themes that are at the essence of conservative reform—like middle income tax relief and expanding charter schools and parental choice in school district assignments. But the reform bent of his candidacy was overwhelmed by the exponentially greater advertising dollars and rhetorical energy attacking McAuliffe on ethics and investments; and on the related bet that “McAuliffe, the flashy wheeler dealer” would prove more off-putting than “Cuccinelli the extremist.”
It’s telling that a Republican who extols the benefit of state government at the expense of federal power offered such a scattered narrative about what conservative state governance would actually look like. Its telling and depressing that Team Cuccinelli assumed that the substance of a conservative policy platform wouldn’t provide the potential of both energizing his base and co-opting independents. It’s not only the center that seems to lack confidence in its persuasive powers.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Nov 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET You know those conversations you have after a certain age that you didn’t see coming….and are mostly pointless and make you laugh at yourself.
These kinds of conversations begin happening after about age 40. Sometimes they begin just as a conversation with yourself. Other times another person or persons may be involved.
But they become a staple you rely on to fill up empty air.
Tonight after dinner with friends my wife and I were driving home and I had a few crumbs on my face from dessert.
I told Rebecca that when I die and they are preparing my body to please make sure I don’t have crumbs on my face. I am still going to be a little self-conscious even though I have passed on. I don’t want people at my funeral talking about me (or remembering me) as a slob and their last image of me is as a sloppy eater. I think that was a fair request.
And then I pointed out to try to put an amused smirk on my face so it would look like I was thinking of something funny–even though I wasn’t still alive. I know it’s mostly for “affect” and that is supposed to be shallow. But when you are dead, I’m guessing, the whole shallow versus deep thing doesn’t matter as much. Looks are more important. Because that’s about all you can do. Be looked at. You can’t make up for a bad looking image with a winning personality at that point. I do often have that amused smirk on my face when alone like I am thinking of something mildy funny and I think it will be a good look for me, posthumously. It is certainly a lot better than the current norm of being remembered with absolutely no expression on my face like you are are indifferent to everything around you. Or bored to death. And certainly better than having dessert crumbs at the corner of your mouth and on your chin.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Nov 14, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET The importance of positive self talk.
Let’s take a commonplace mistake people make. Putting on a different pair of shoes on each foot (see picture to the left).
The natural response is to be embarrassed and saynto yourself (self talk):
“You are an idiot who can’t even dress himself! And it is almost end of the week, Thursday, before you caught it! Go back to bed before you hurt yourself.”
Or you can try positive self talk. (Try to spot the difference):
“Look. Even though I haven’t been wearing the exact same pair of shoes this week, I at least have been wearing one left and one right shoe. And caught it is early in the week –just Thursday. I say “early” because Monday was a holiday and Tuesday was like a Monday and nobody notices what shoes you’re wearing on most Mondays. You got almost all other clothing articles right this week. And you never forgot to put on pants before leaving the house. You are doing really well. Like 99%. In baseball 99% gets you in the Hall of Fame. And even though you don’t like baseball, you wouldn’t mind being in the Hall of Fame. It’s going to be a good day. Yep. And, check! You didn’t forget your pants today either –and totally nailed shoes AND socks today, you Mr Hall of Famer, you!”
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Nov 13, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ……
That’s it.
Hey. Sometimes it is fun to do a countdown just for the rush of anticipation. It’s exciting.
Whether or not their is a pay off isnt nearly as important as it seems.
Life is often anti-clamatic and we need to embrace that–and it doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy the anticipation part. It’s often the best part…..
Let me catch my breath and we will do another “no pay off” countdown this afternoon.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Nov 12, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Favorite first sentences of novels….
The easy ones are “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times” from Tale of Two Cities.
Or perhaps “Call me Ishmael” from Moby Dick.
But for my money, it’s hard to beat this opening line from Life, The Universe and Everything from Douglas Adams.
“The regular early morning yell of horror was the sound of Arthur Dent waking up and suddenly remembering where he was.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Nov 11, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET When something you think is interesting isn’t really interesting to someone who tells you it is interesting. (Or things I learned today that I wasn’t expecting to learn)
Today I realized that when you explain what you believe is a uniquely clever and impressive insight and then eagerly wait for the response and your listener responds with only “That is very interesting. I had never thought about it that way before” the listener doesn’t really literally mean he thinks your supposed clever comment is, in fact, interesting.
He also doesn’t regret not having “thought of it that way before.” That is just a polite way to dismiss your imagined clever comment in the same way someone might say to you after you describe what you believe is a unique meal you just ate by saying, “I’d never thought about eating four day old succotash with sardines and ice cream before. That is very interesting.”
===
An unhealthy desire to be affiliated with the Ivy League.
When you learn there is a Yale hospital when you are 50 years old and your first thought is “I wonder if I get sick if I could get in?”
And your next thought is, “I bet I could. Finally, a way into the Ivy League for me.”
But when your third thought is to post about it on Facebook, you are reminded that not everyone was meant for the Ivy League. Including you.
===
What will happen next?
A friend who is concerned about our nation’s political stand-off and assumes I know a great deal more about politics than I do asked me if I thought things “Would get better soon?”
I wasn’t going to fully answer at first ….but after giving it more thought, will share what will happen.
Yes, it will get better. Only a little at first…but then, in due time, it will getnoticeably better.
Then it will get worse again.
And then after a short while things will briefly improve again –and then get much worse.
Then things will get really, really good. I mean awesome. Just… fantastic.
But then when we are starting to get used to really, really good times, it will all of a sudden get really, really, really, really bad. It will not be as bad as some will be saying but will be seriously bad for awhile. I don’t know the exact date when this really bad part will start….but trust me on this. Bad.
And then it will get better. Not good, mind you. Just better but it will seem like it got good because things will have been bad for so long.
They will stay that way for awhile and then really will get good. But just barely .
Then bad again. And then pretty good again and then very good.
And then we will die.
But stuff will keep getting good and bad; better and worse. But the specifics, to me anyway, start to get murky at this point.
Hope this helps.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Nov 8, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Some people take sleep for granted. Like something that just happens naturally without thinking about it and without effort.
That’s not the case for everyone and advice to us about fluffing up our pillow, no caffeine after 4pm, not eating late and no watching TV in bed, isn’t very helpful. For one thing, we never make it to bed in the first place to not watch TV or fluff up our pillow. But thanks anyway.
That kind of advice, to a true insomniac, is akin to trying to house train a dog by explaining to the dog there is a restroom right next to their pen and to just use it as needed. But remember to put the seat back down when finished.
It’s just not in the cards for us. Or the dog.
And so as you wake up “bright and early” and are ready to greet the day with enthusiasm and see a colleague who looks like he is moving underwater and would have trouble following a multi-sentence conversation with The Dude from The Big Lewbowski, just look at him and smile to yourself and remember that if your friend were a dog you wouldn’t get mad at him for not putting the toilet seat back down in the restroom.
In other words, no advice, please. Just cut us a little slack.
And try not to be overly-chipper.
|
|