By Lauren Mayer, on Wed Nov 20, 2013 at 8:30 AM ET Don’t get me wrong, nostalgia has a big place in my life. I love elements of the past, including Victorian novels, big band music from the 1920s, and full-skirted cocktail dresses from the 1950s. But I wouldn’t want to live in any of those eras, largely for practical considerations (I was one of those annoying kids who couldn’t read The Little House books without wondering how and where they went to the bathroom, and much as I love Jane Austen-esque romance, I wouldn’t really want to live without antibiotics, electricity, or the ability of women to own and inherit property, which of course was the issue driving most of the romance anyhow).
A lot of things have improved over the years, and one advantage of getting older is that we get to see change for the better. I gaped at my mother’s stories of her college sorority (which had “girdle checks” every morning) kicking her out for dating my father (who wasn’t in an approved fraternity, on top of being Jewish), and my kids are horrified when I tell them about learning to type on a manual typewriter, or that until I was in 8th grade, girls weren’t allowed to wear pants to school.
Now my boys can look forward to telling their kids about when gay marriage wasn’t a universal right – They were born in the mid-90s, so they’ve seen the whole progression of the issue. (In fact, the first wedding my older son attended was that of my college best friend and his partner, who had a commitment ceremony when my son was 3, and I served as the ‘best man’. For a few years after that, David was puzzled when he saw an opposite-sex couple get married.)
Since my kids are 17 and 20, I hope I have to wait awhile for grandchildren (although I do expect them eventually, boys, in case you’re reading this). So in the meantime, I will rejoice as each state adopts marriage equality and come up with an appropriate song – here’s my tribute to Hawaii.
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 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.”
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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.
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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 RP Nation, on Mon Nov 11, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
 10-28: There comes a time when you realize you have a sickness. Most girls spend $20 on a new shirt. I bought a turkey.
Yes, a month before Thanksgiving every year, I get so excited that I can’t wait…and I buy a turkey. And I stuff it, and smother it, and baste it, and love on it, and eat the crap out of it until I pass out from Turkey Coma.
Yes, I could get a new shirt, but I bought a bird. Sickness? Nah. Priorities…
 10-29: I may or may not have tried on some of those old pageant dresses last night and finished carving the turkey in one…I figured I should dress for the occasion when I’m cracking and boiling bones. I used my ex for added inspiration when it came to hacking at it with the cleaver – great stress relief. Don’t get this confused – I do not wish to hack him up – but boy is it fun taking undistributed hostility out on turkey bones, while wearing a full-length gown, with opera music playing in the background. If you find yourself doubting the credibility here, I promise you: I can’t make this stuff up on my best day. This is full-on, unadulterated truth as I live and breathe it. Seriously though, this exercise to preserve mental fortitude comes highly recommended. I went to bed accomplished, slept like a baby, and woke up wanting to seize the day instead of attacking it. Thank you, turkey bird.
10-30: It has been brought to my attention that the creativity with which I crafted my previous post makes me look like a mixture of Carrie and Kathy Bates in Misery. Apparently, my pseudo-psychopathic depiction got so much traction, it was shared multiple times, by multiple people outside our company. Might I remind you, Kathy Bates won an Oscar for Best Actress, Sissy Spacek garnered the nomination, respectively, for portraying those maniacs.
My self-indulgent FB Acceptance Speech: Thank you to all the adorably-dense gossip addicts. I’m so humbled you have the time and energy to worry with little ‘ole me. If you ever desire to walk a mile in each other’s shoes, I warmly welcome you to enjoy the perspective that it’s okay to be yourself – and really fun to freak people out while doing so. De-stressing by roasting a turkey, being resourceful by chopping up it’s bones for stock, all while dressed in a gorgeous gown you still fit into a decade later is sheer bliss. I’ll wear your shoes and walk around all pent up and miserable, whispering passive-aggressive quips as some kind of elitist overcompensation mechanism. I’ll purse my lips and scowl with that trademark pinched look on my face. I’ll trade so you can experience true and simple joy, never to fear your reflection in the mirror, so you can feel the freedom of being you, loving you – crazy and all, and of course dancing barefoot – because I don’t even like shoes. So c’mon. Walk in mine, put your feet up and relax those pinched butt cheeks of yours. Otherwise, grab some popcorn and enjoy the show. (Exiting Stage Left before the pig blood gets dumped on my head)
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.
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