February 23, 2017

February 23: JIM HENSON’S THE CUBE - The Truth Behind the Mask

JIM HENSON’S THE CUBE: aired February 23, 1969


Originally published February 23, 2016.

I live with a strange philosophical contradiction.. It’s one of the things that has led me to this project. I’m by nature a strange paradox that I live with. My natural, programmed reactions in the split-second between stimulus and response - when decisions are cast that will either make my responses happier and healthier or more confused and distant – is to generally choose the latter. My natural reactions tend towards self-doubt, guilt, and shame. And yet, in the midst of all of that, I’m always struck with the belief that things can be better. That they should be better. More importantly, that I could make them better, if I just knew how. I don’t always have evidence to support this belief; it’s just something I feel, deep-down. So this project (and much of what I’ve been trying to figure out in recent years) is an attempt to understand how to create that better life that I can’t prove, and that I can’t necessarily define. A quote from Dr. Cornel West provides a good description of this process:
“I believe that critical energy, applied to any body of information, can unearth some truth. But for every unearthing, you don’t find absolute truth – you find another fallible truth, and then still another. That’s because each revelation is tied to another concealment. You reveal what’s been concealed, only to repeat the process into infinity. Enlightenment has no end. The paradoxes are never resolved.” 
It’s not necessarily the easiest concept to swallow, particularly when seeking answers. The idea that truth – all aspects of truth, forever – are products of concealment. That any truth is clarifying some things, but intentionally not addressing others. And if we search for the truth behind the part being concealed, we find more truth and more concealment. And Cornel West is claiming that the process is never-ending; that we can never reach a final, ultimate truth. Taken at face value, that’s not very comforting. Humans aren’t really wired for that kind of reality. Our brains are designed to recognize patterns and to constantly attempt to organize the world around us. So, the idea of absolute truth is important to us. We’re wired for it, and we look for it. We look for it in science, we look for it in religion, we look for it in mathematics. We can even convince ourselves that we have the right answers, and it’s the rest of the world who doesn’t know something that we do. We play a game with truth – with reality itself – and convince ourselves that we’ve figured things out. But Cornel West – and many, many others – would argue that truth and reality don’t work that way.

February 22, 2017

February 22: CHUCK JONES – Creative Work is Never Competitive

CHUCK JONES: September 21, 1912 – February 22, 2002


Originally published February 22, 2016.

I think every parent attempts to introduce their children to the things they loved as a child, with the hope that their children would have a similar positive reaction. It also seems to me that these introductions fall flat about 80% of the time. I got lucky with Sesame Street and certain Jim Henson shows. I missed with The Doors and Willie Nelson and The Dukes of Hazzard. But I remember the excitement I felt when Chuck Jones cartoons became available on iTunes years ago, and I was able to purchase Duck Amuck for my iPod. I had hoped my kids would love it as much as I did, and as luck would have it, they did. They would regularly watch it while we were driving somewhere, laughing at all the same gags people had laughed at for 55 years.

February 21, 2017

February 21: MALCOLM X / EL-HAJJ MALIK EL-SHABAZZ – A Rare and Difficult Change

MALCOLM X / EL-HAJJ MALIK EL-SHABAZZ: May 19, 1925 – February 21, 1965


Originally published February 21, 2016.

I have made a lot of changes in my life in recent years. There is still plenty of opportunity for me to improve my life, but I’ve done a fairly decent job of making some improvements. And so it catches me by surprise when old patterns arise and around me, and I find myself slipping into patterns I thought I had eradicated. Something happens at work or something happens at home that re-ignites old patterns without my awareness, and suddenly I’m thinking in ways I’m not aware of, and behaving in ways I thought I had eradicated. Change is frustrating, because we never truly now when we have truly evolved into a different state of being, or if our new behaviors are just a temporary, untested state. We want to believe that we’re a different person, and it’s a slap in the face to find out that we were just different because we hadn’t been tested. My high school football coach used to say, “In times of stress, men revert to their original form.” I’ve experienced that recently. Changes I was sure I’d made for the better turned out to be fairly shallow and untested changes. As soon as I ran into some triggering stressors, I reverted right back to the way I used to be. It’s difficult to change our beliefs and behaviors. Hell, it’s hard to stop smoking or to lose ten pounds. And so when I see someone who can fundamentally change themselves, I have to take notice. When they fundamentally change themselves twice, it’s almost miraculous. The fact that one of the most politically divisive figures of the 20th century was one of the few to be able to accomplish this makes it even more interesting.

February 20, 2017

February 20: HUNTER S. THOMPSON – Too Exhausted To Live, Too Curious To Die

HUNTER S. THOMPSON: July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005


Originally published February 20, 2015.

When Hunter S. Thompson shot himself ten years ago, I was saddened but not necessarily surprised. I rarely consider how people I admire are going to leave this world, but Thompson was one who seemed destined to leave this world the way he lived within it – completely on his own terms. It was the kind of life that couldn’t help but attract controversy, and so for Thompson to slowly face away and be laid to rest gently in a quiet Aspen cemetery was inconceivable. It would have been a travesty. And so as sad as I was to see him go, I was relieved that he got to leave in a manner that felt appropriate to me. It feels odd to say that an unexpected gunshot to the temple is an “appropriate” way to end a life, but if you don’t understand that statement, you likely don’t understand Hunter S. Thompson.

February 19, 2017

February 19: thirtysomething - You’re Never Truly Prepared

thirtysomething: “Second Look” airs, February 19, 1991


Originally published February 19, 2015.

I was just shy of my 21st birthday and a college dropout who couldn’t hold a job but who could hold onto unhealthy relationships. I spent my days watching TV and movies and regularly wondering if things in life were going to be okay. My favorite show at the time was thirtysomething, which was surprising. Most nights, I either slept in my car or on a friend’s couch – not necessarily “homeless”, but certainly “unrooted”. thirtysomething, on the other hand, was all about roots. Baby boomers with spouses and children and careers and mortgages. They were vulnerable and filled with angst, and viewers either loved them or hated them. I loved them. It was cinematic TV: brilliant characters, realistic mise-en-scene, angular cinematography worthy of Citizen Kane-era Orson Welles, great acting. It was a cinephile’s dream, and despite not being able to relate to the characters on any appreciable level, I really grew to care for the characters. In the show’s final season, one of the female characters was diagnosed with cancer. She spent the season undergoing chemotherapy and contemplating her own mortality. It was a theme through the season until midway through the season, when Nancy had her final cancer surgery and after an episode of worry and consideration about life and death, she was pronounced cancer-free. The characters gathered at the hospital to celebrate. As friends arrived and the celebration increased, they found out that the one missing friend – Gary, the whimsical college buddy turned English professor who had finally married and had a child – had been killed in a car accident. I remember watching the show in disbelief. I’d experienced the unexpected death of characters I liked before, but this felt different. Unexpected is one thing; this was a complete sucker punch. Because the entire episode had been about how people deal with looming mortality. Cancer diagnoses, by their nature, cause this kind of thinking. But it’s a “cause and effect” thinking. There was no “cause” for Gary’s death; he died as a result of living an everyday life. Gary’s death was a testament to the cruelest part of life – that sometimes, no matter how hard we fight it, we can never be prepared enough for the cruelty that life brings.

February 18, 2017

February 18: HARRY CARAY – The Metric that Matters

HARRY CARAY: March 1, 1914 – February 18, 1998


Originally published February 18, 2016.

I spent most of my youth in Chicago, despite being born in Ohio and descending from generations of Ohioans. Being born in 1970, I was the perfect age to discover baseball right as The Big Red Machine, the dominant Cincinnati Reds teams of the mid-1970s, began to dominate baseball. My parents and grandparents were all baseball fans, and I was hooked. I was a fan of Johnny Bench and Pete Rose. I tried to always wear Johnny Bench’s #5 or Davey Concepcion’s #13 when I picked a Little League uniform. My grandfather eventually retied after selling his company to then-minority owner (now majority owner) Bob Castellini, and we would regularly go to Riverfront Stadium and sit in Castellini’s personal seats, just down he row from Marge Schott and her St. Bernard, Schottsie. I remain a lifelong Cincinnati Reds fan, despite spending 17 formative years in Chicago. Living on the north side of Chicago, it seemed like everyone I knew was a Cubs fan. Even my parents, who were born and raised in Ohio by Reds fans, eventually shifted their allegiance to the Cubs. But I could never get onboard with the Cubs worship. Yes, I appreciated the fact that Wrigley Field was still nestled snugly in an actual neighborhood. And yes, I appreciated the ease of getting to the park on the el. But Cubs fans, on the whole, were annoying. They partied like amateurs, made too much noise, treated the neighborhood they claimed to love like a garbage can, they invaded cool bars like locusts and acted like they owned the place… More disturbingly, they had a very strange relationship with losing. They seemed to enjoy it. The Big Red Machine (and later the “Nasty Boys”-era Reds of the early ‘90s) had trained me to enjoy winning big. They were dominating teams. Cubs fans seemed to enjoy the cellar, and never seemed to mind the century-plus without a championship. They clung to a weird shabby nobility, girded with nachos and Old Style and trips to the Cubby Bear after. To this day, I don’t understand Cubs fans. But there is one thing about the Cubs that I always loved, and always will. The Cubs had one thing that will always be legendary: Harry Caray.

February 17, 2017

February 17: HUEY P. NEWTON – Power to the People

HUEY P. NEWTON: February 17, 1942 – August 22, 1989


Originally published February 17, 2016.

It’s midway through Black History Month, and a couple of weeks after Beyonce released her new single “Formation” via a Super Bowl half-time show that – based on my Facebook feed and what I’ve seen on the internet – caused white people to collectively lose their fucking minds. During the show, Beyonce and her dancers adopted black leather, afros, and berets similar to those worn by the Black Panther Party, which had been formed in 1966 in the same Bay Area. The song, “Formation”, is Beyonce’s warm embrace of her African-American heritage and culture, with the inspirational coda “you might just be a black Bill Gates in the making”. “Formation” – the song and the Super Bowl performance – was an embrace of black heritage without any sense of marginalization. Critics are still arguing over whether it is appropriation or homage, but from my perspective, either answer is irrelevant. What is important (as evidenced by the backlash) is that a statement about the pride in African-American heritage and culture is not coupled by marginalization. It is not “it’s a black thing, you wouldn’t understand”. This was “it’s a black thing, and it’s going to be as important and embedded as Bill Gates”, an uber-symbol of white homogeneous capitalism. The core of Beyonce’s statement is a reference to the core of The Black Panther Party’s statement, “All Power to the People”. THE people. All people. Not poor people. Not black people. Not rich people. Not white people. THE people. As defined by the Black Panther Party, “power to the people” was the ability of every person to choose their own destiny, fairly and equally. “Power to the people” is nothing more than the right of every person to be considered, equally. It was an idea learned the hard way by Black Panther Party co-founder Huey P. Newton.

February 16, 2017

February 16: JIM HENSON’S TIME PIECE - Time Is Meaning

TIME PIECE: Nominated for an Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film on February 16, 1965


Originally published February 16, 2015.

It’s Monday, and I’m already completely overwhelmed at work. This is far from an uncommon state, although things had been going smoother for some time now. But this week, I’m behind on critical things and have tons of rapidly-approaching deadlines and numerous meetings and random requests filling my day. I tend to work with either music or a movie playing in the background - just enough white noise to keep me from getting exhausted, and just enough escapism to keep me from getting depressed or stressed. When I’m really overwhelmed, though, I will occasionally stop what I’m doing and watch something short: a music video on YouTube, a cartoon, something. Today, I watched Jim Henson’s Oscar-nominated, non-Muppet short film Time Piece. It’s a film that fascinates me in its simplicity. In the film, the main character (played by Henson) runs frantically through his life, constantly dealing with time in one way or another. He’s either oppressed by time or reveling in it. His existence is constrained by time and often kicking as its boundaries. In the PBS Great Performances tribute to Jim Henson, longtime Henson collaborator and writer Jerry Juhl talked about the film, and more specifically, about Jim Henson’s relationship with time. In the interview, Juhl said, “There was never enough time for Jim. There never would have been enough time.” If you’ve read many of the previous posts in this project, you probably recognize why this quote – and this aspect of Jim Henson - resonates with me. Because at the end of most days, I fall asleep – usually accidentally, while doing something – feeling like there wasn’t enough time. That there were far too many tasks left incomplete, too many desires left unfulfilled, too many thoughts left unstarted, too many words unspoken. And far too few times where I felt “in the moment”, unfettered by the stress and the worry about all of the other things left hanging over my head. And in my darkest, scariest moments, I begin to think that there never will be enough time, and that someday I’m going to die after spending my life worrying about how many things needed to be done yet never actually doing any of those things.

February 15, 2017

February 15: KURT VONNEGUT – Everything was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt

KURT VONNEGUT, JR.: Survived the bombing of Dresden, February 13-15, 1945

"Here we are trapped in the amber of the moment.
There is no why.
"
                                         - Kurt Vonnegut

Originally published February 15, 2015.

I found the writing of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. in a surprisingly “Vonnegut”-ian way. I was a senior in high school, and I had been kicked out of my AP English class for not reading the homework assignments often enough. The English class I had been relegated to was taught by a teacher who disliked me, and I spent a majority of the time making joking commentaries until she would throw me out of class. I would then go to the room next door, which was in the same classroom that the AP English class was held earlier in the day. That class was led by a teacher who did like me, and her only rule for me being in the class was that I would have to make her laugh to be allowed in, and then I would have to sit on the three=foot high bookshelf in the back of the room (all the desks were filled) where the AP English books were stored and add running joke commentary to her lessons. Since I wasn’t a student in the class, I wasn’t reading any of the homework, and I would regularly get bored. I began taking copies of the AP English books and Ieaving school in the middle of the day, finding a park somewhere and sitting and reading the afternoon away. In short, I was missing school so I could read the books I had been thrown out of school for not reading, which I took from a class that required me to be silly since I had been thrown from a class for being silly. All of us were carving out what we wanted against a set of conflicting rules and preferences that seemed designed to keep all of us from getting what we needed. At the time, those afternoons were some of the best moments of the school year. I had been removed from one class, thrown out of another, and serving in the role of jester in a third class. I was both a failure and a joke, and so the moments on park benches reading the books felt creative and curious. One of the books I remembered taking with me was Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five. The book didn’t make much sense to me at the time, and without a teacher to explain some of the novel’s context to me, it felt too abstract to truly understand. All I knew was that the novel’s main character, Billy Pilgrim, had survived the bombing of Dresden during World War II; it was years before I knew the same had happened to Vonnegut.

February 14, 2017

February 14: WAYLON JENNINGS - The Unique Direction Only You Know

WAYLON JENNINGS: June 15, 1937 - February 13, 2002


Originally published February 14, 2016.

I’m at an interesting crossroads of my career. For most of my adult life, I’ve worked with a fear-based intensity, like a man trying to outrun a fire. My consistent belief was that termination was always nipping at my heels, and the only way to outpace it was to outwork everyone else. “I may not be the best,” I believed, “but nobody is going to work harder than me.” And so I spent years getting paid for 40 hours of work, but working 70, 80, 100 hours in a week. Even as I piled up “Exceeds Expectations” annual reviews and outpaced co-workers on merit increases, I was sure that one slip-up would be the end of me. It was a co-dependent nightmare, but with an unexpected result. If you’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s writings on expertise as a by-product of 10,000 hours of practice, all of those hundreds of hours of extra work and all the all-nighters added up to a level of expertise beyond what a typical colleague would have achieved at this time. In recent months, I’ve published a book, written a couple of popular industry articles, traveled overseas to present at industry conference, scheduled three more conference presentations and a webinar for this year. Sharing my knowledge and helping others use that knowledge to craft strategies is the work I want to do – the work I’ve always wanted to do. And yet, my co-workers are accustomed to having a ceaseless workhorse to bail them out, so we’re in a state of conflict. (In fact, one of my primary peers resigned over the holiday break. Instead of hiring a replacement, they simply assigned his full-time workload over to me.) So, how do you switch to the career you want when others are trying to force you into a box in which you’d be capable, yet uninspired? I’m at a crossroads, and I’m often left feeling lonesome, ornery, and mean. Which is why I keep looking to Waylon Jennings.