My Son's Orchestra Performance Near-Disaster

Sometime last spring my then-fifth-grade son expressed a desire to join orchestra when he began middle school the following autumn. Up to that point he had shown the least interest in music of any of my four kids.I checked with him to be sure that he knew that joining orchestra would entail studying music, and listening to music, and actually playing a musical instrument. This was not news to him. He’d even chosen an instrument, the viola. I didn’t even know he knew violas existed.Since joining orchestra requires a financial commitment, we wanted to be sure this wasn’t just a passing fancy. So when I took him to the information session and sign ups in spring, I chose the pay-in-the-summer option.A few months passed and he was still interested. We did the paperwork, sent in a check, and he went to orchestra camp the last week of summer. He was serious. I was impressed. Surprised, but impressed.We’ve listened to him practice (almost) daily and attended two concerts. Today we woke up early and drove to a high school twenty-five minutes away so he could perform in the Solo and Ensemble event. The event is sponsored by the state’s school music association, which exists to “provide educationally evaluated music performance activities for students.”We arrived an hour before his scheduled 9:10 performance time. After some initial confusion about where to go, he found the auditorium practice space, ran through his song a couple of times, asked his teacher to tune his instrument, and then it was show time.His performance took place in a classroom, in front of a judge. Just him, the judge, and us. As he setup, he opened his folder, looked at me with a look of panic on his face, and said, “My music’s not in here.”What? Hadn’t he checked before we left?“No, I had it Thursday.”That’s two days ago. Where is it? Shoulder shrug.He had a copy of the music, but he had to give that to the judge. He was screwed. Defeated before he even got to play.But then, because he’s younger and has a more technologically-oriented mind than me, he’s got a solution. “Take a picture of the judge’s music and I’ll look at your phone while I play.”That won’t work. The picture will go away.But still we try. I take the picture, he takes the phone, and puts it on the music stand. It looks impossibly small. I have visions of him getting halfway through the song and the picture going away. Of him having to stop the song and tap the screen to see the music again.There’s no other option though. The judge says, “I’m ready. You may begin when you’re ready.”When he’s ready? Who the hell cares when he’s ready? What about me! I’m not ready for this. I want him to have his damn music! Let’s postpone this for a few minutes so I can go find some sheet music for the poor kid.But the judge didn’t ask me when I was ready.He started to play. I aimed the video camera in his direction. The judge had asked my son to move his chair so he could have a better view of him when he played, so my video of the performance capture only his music stand, and the pitiful little phone sheet music. I thought about moving for a better angle, but decided that maybe it was more important for the judge to see than me.I held my breath and waited for the phone to go dark. For him to stop playing. For the uncomfortable moment of silence.But he played. And he played. And he played. The song sounded exactly like it had when he practiced in the auditorium. I’m no music expert, but it sounded like he hit every note. Like he’d done this before.And then he stopped. But instead of tapping the phone, he put down his bow. He made it all the way through.I’ll have to go back and watch the video, but I suspect my sigh of relief will be audible on the recording.He made it through.We exited to the hallway, and I told him it seemed good to me. I asked him why he didn’t have his music.He said he could see the music the whole time. It wasn’t too small.A few minutes later the judge handed my son’s card back to him.“Gold!” my son shouted, lifting his arms into the air. Some of his classmates saw him and congratulated him. I hugged him.Thirty people or so lingered in the hallway, waiting for their turn to perform. “I didn’t even have my music. I had to play off my dad’s phone!” I heard a few people chuckle. His friends were amazed.So was I.IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Observations From Attending My First SymphonyPREVIOUS POST: Is it Better to Be an Adult or a Kid?Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

Is it Better to Be an Adult or a Kid?

In ninth grade I took a class called American Studies. From what I remember it was sort of a mish mash of other subjects, but all focused on America. So history, government, health, sociology, a bit of pop culture. Pretty much anything that related to America and being American.The teacher for the class was Mrs. Ruzbasan. I don’t remember much about her. I think she was friendly. Maybe a bit aloof. And I remember next-to-nothing about the class.However, one thing I do remember was a comment so at odds with what I’d always heard from adults that it really stuck with me. (Obviously. This declaration took place twenty-four years ago, and I still remember it.)I don’t remember what we were talking about. Something related to teenage difficulties. And no one in the class was saying much. She was looking for answers, but we weren’t giving them. And then she went into this little monologue about how she understood how difficult it was to be a kid.What?How difficult it was to be a kid? A grownup is saying this? How can that be?When I was a kid all I ever heard was how great we kids had it. No responsibilities, no bills, our parents took care of us. Typical adult stuff. The sort of stuff that made me wonder whether adults remembered the challenges of being a kid.But here was this lady, this adult, standing in front of a room of twenty-five teenagers, talking about kid problems. She mentioned how we’re not taken seriously, and we don’t have as many freedoms, and we have to listen to what other people tell us to do.It was like listening to another kid. She was saying the sort of things my friends and I always said.And then she said, “I wouldn’t want to be a kid again. Being an adult is much better.”I swear the entire class gasped in disbelief. Okay, maybe not, but we didn’t expect an adult to say such a thing. Finally, someone admitted what we’d claimed for years: that compared to kids, adults have it made.“I can drive a car. I can stay up late. I have my own money to spend. And I know what’s important. I’m much happier as an adult than I was as a kid.”I’m pretty sure the entire class felt vindicated. It was like the guy that everyone thinks is such a good guy, but you think he’s an asshole, and then he does something to reveal to everyone that he really is an asshole. And you just want to stand up and yell, “I knew I was right! I told you so!”So with that knowledge the urgency to become an adult only increased. I’d made it through fourteen years of being a kid, by law I only had four more years until I became an adult, so if I could just hold on for a few more years, things would start looking up.I’d get my license, get a job, earn some money, graduate high school, go to college, start a career, earn more money, start a family. I’d be an adult all the time and I’d never reminisce about how great it is to be a kid.And then a funny thing happened.I became an adult. And all of those things happened. But there were still times that I didn’t feel like an adult. I wondered if I’d changed at all from when I was that fourteen-year-old kid.I’m thirty-eight now and there are still times that I think to myself, “Am I adult enough to handle this?” When my youngest daughter was a few months old I remember being home in the evening with her, and my four- and six-year-old sons, feeding them dinner, brushing teeth, tucking them in, and marveling that I was the one charge.The fact of the matter is that no matter how I feel sometimes, I have changed in the past twenty-four years. I have become an adult. I don’t know when it happened. I suppose like everything else in life it was gradual.But I’ve grown. Both in years, and in maturity. I’m an adult. I know that things are usually never as good or as bad as they seem. I know what’s important. I know we should enjoy every sandwich. I know people will disappoint you. I know people will surprise you. I know your friend today, can be your enemy tomorrow.And I know whether you’re a kid, or you’re an adult, you better try to enjoy it, because it’s all temporary.This post was written as part of ChicagoNow's monthly writing exercise in which the ChicagoNow community is given a topic and then challenged to produce a post on that topic in one hour. Tonight's topic: "Write about the first time you felt like you were a grown-up."Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time.

IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Some Notes on Stealing Halloween Candy From My KidsPREVIOUS POST: Analyzing Trump's Lies About the Inauguration Crowd Size and Why it MattersType your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

Analyzing Trump's Lies About the Inauguration Crowd Size and Why it Matters

Sean Spicer, President Trump’s press secretary, held his first press briefing on Saturday. During the briefing Spicer claimed, “Some members of the media were engaged in deliberately false reporting.”After describing a tweet in which a reporter erroneously reported that Trump had removed a Martin Luther King, Jr. bust from the Oval Office, Spicer moved on to inauguration crowds.“Photographs of the inaugural proceedings were intentionally framed in a way, in one particular tweet, to minimize the enormous support that had gathered on the national mall.”Spicer didn’t refer to a specific tweet, but since this picture appeared all over social media and news outlets, I suspect this is the picture he had in mind:

Despite the evidence in the picture, Spicer claimed, “This was the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration. Period. Both in person and around the globe.”Trump’s thirty-one million viewers came in seven million viewers behind Obama’s 2009 inauguration, and eleven million viewers behind Reagan’s 1981 inauguration. However, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say there were twelve million more people streaming the inauguration, so he actually did receive more at-home viewers.In person viewership is a bit easier to quantify.First, let’s assume that the pictures above are not accurate. Let’s say that the Obama crowd picture shows the crowd as Obama is speaking, and the Trump picture shows the crowd forty-five minutes before the ceremony began.Luckily, Sean Spicer can clear things up for us. Just before discussing the crowd size he said, “Let’s go through the facts.”Spicer then recited the capacity of different sections of the National Mall from the Capitol to the Washington Monument and said, “All of this space was full when the President took the oath of office.”To support his claim he had next to him two large prints of the following picture:

Wow, that looks like a lot of people. Seems like he caught that damn liberal media in a big fat lie. Look at all those people.Not so fast.He just taught us a little bit about camera angles, and how the higher you get, the better you can see.Here’s another picture. (Click on it for the full-size version.) It’s a screenshot I took of ABC’s coverage. I paused the video at 1:43:35.screen-shot-2017-01-21-at-10-17-10-pmGranted, this isn’t the exact moment of Trump’s oath of office, or his speech. He’d take the oath thirteen minutes and four seconds after this picture. But you can see that the platform at the bottom of the picture is full, indicating that the proceedings are underway.And there’s a hell of a lot of open space.Assuming there are six sections beyond the Capitol Reflecting Pool, it looks as though section 1 is about two-thirds full, section 2 is almost entirely full, section 3 is about a third full, section 4 is mostly full, section 5 is about half full, and section 6 is empty.This jives with the pattern in the side-by-side picture above.Yet Trump's spokesman utters the words, “All of this space was full when the President took the oath of office.” Now, maybe there was a sudden influx of people in the thirteen minutes after this picture was taken, but that’s not likely.Spicer decided to go even further with his claims about enormous crowds and state that 420,000 people used the DC Metro yesterday, which, he said, is more than the 317,000 people that used the Metro during Obama’s last inauguration.However, that’s not the full truth. Yesterday 420,000 people rode the Metro over the course of the entire day. The 317,000 number for Obama’s last inauguration was by 11:00 am. The corresponding number for Trump’s inauguration was 193,000, which is 124,000 less than Obama’s last inauguration, and 320,000 less than his first inauguration.The numbers and the pictures don’t lie. It’s irrefutable that Trump had significantly fewer people attend his inauguration than attended Obama’s inauguration in 2009. His press secretary’s claim that “This was the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration,” is a blatant lie.Now, on its face, this is no big deal. The number of people who attend an inauguration is rather insignificant in a world dealing with ISIS, climate change, Vladimir Putin, and a host of other problems.However, for the press secretary to stand up there and tell blatant, deliberate lies just to save face is appalling. We’re not talking about political interpretation here. These aren’t policy differences between the parties, or arguments about the approaches to peace in the Middle East.These are basic, absolute, undeniable facts that the president and the press secretary are ignoring, and blatantly stating the opposite.And then, as if lying about it weren’t bad enough, they go on to accuse the media of lying about it.This is incredibly dangerous.Donald Trump received almost sixty-three million votes. A good portion of those who voted for him will believe him when he says that he’s telling the truth and the media is lying. By planting the seed of distrust in the media, he’s setting himself up to have the ability to convince his supporters that whatever he says is truth, and whatever the media says is not.Right now it’s inauguration crowd size.But what happens when the topic is something more serious? Like eliminating healthcare for millions of Americans. Or tax cuts that entirely benefit the wealthy. Or a military showdown with China.Watching Sean Spicer’s press briefing was exactly like watching Fascist rallies from seventy years ago. There’s no regard for the truth. Trump seems to buy into the theory of the Big Lie, which is if you repeat something loud enough and often enough, that people will begin to believe it, because they believe that no one would have the shamelessness to distort the truth so grandiosely.But Donald Trump has no shame.Which is exactly why we should all be so worried.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: The Cubs World Series Victory Parade and Rally Didn't Have Five-Million in AttendancePREVIOUS POST: The Oval Office Letter from Obama to Trump

The Oval Office Letter from Obama to Trump

What follows is the letter I would have left in the Oval Office for Donald Trump if I were President Obama. Dear Donald,As I write these words, I am president of the United States. As you read them, you are. I hope the gravity and responsibility of the office is clear.In the eight years that I occupied this office, I encountered challenges, obstacles, and tragedies that no one could have predicted. Although things didn’t always go as I planned, I adapted and learned. I grew as a leader, and as a person. As I leave this office, I’m leaving a better man than when I arrived.I hope the same is true for you.You’ll discover rather quickly that governing is vastly different than campaigning. It’s one thing to promise something in a speech when there’s no one to oppose you. It’s quite another to overcome sustained, serious opposition and actually deliver on that promise.I came into this office bolstered by two ideas: hope and change. Our system is inherently messy and slow-moving. But we still delivered change; not for the sake of change, but to improve the lives of our citizens, and to improve the state of our nation. And even though I’m leaving with work left to do, we never lost hope.This office, this responsibility, is now yours. And my fervent wish is that this nation can bolster you with those two ideas: hope and change.I hope that you’ll govern with all of this country’s people in mind. I hope that you’ll realize there is real suffering, and that the people who endure such suffering will not find relief in blame-shifting or scapegoating.I hope that you’ll listen to the voices of people who are different from you. I hope you appreciate the diversity of this country, and realize that the spectrum of experiences, beliefs, and values inherent in such diversity are not something that should be marginalized, but embraced.I hope that you’ll see that all people of this nation, regardless of sex, race, creed, and religion, contribute with their minds, their intellect, and their spirit, and that they are more valuable when they’re heard, and not just seen.I hope that you’ll hear the painful echoes from the victims of violence in this nation’s past, and understand that calls for violence damage the fabric of decency necessary for our prosperity.I hope that you’ll understand that although we are the mightiest nation in history, we only benefit from that might when we’re also compassionate, fair, and just. I hope that you’ll seek advice from our military leaders past and present, but never forget that in our nation, civilians lead.I hope that you’ll remember that the selfless service you have undertaken is for the good of the country. I hope that you’ll navigate each day with the understanding that this office is the most important job you’ll ever have.I hope that you’ll realize that in our toughest days this country will look to you.If you fulfill the hope that I have for you, then the change necessary for this country’s prosperity will follow.Wisdom can affect great transformation. I hope you have that experience.But most of all, I hope that you remember the irrefutable words spoken by Dr. King: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”Follow that arc. Don’t fight it.--BarackClick here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Despite the Wishes of Trump and His Supporters, America Won't Go BackPREVIOUS POST: Trump Won't Last Four Years

Trump Won't Last Four Years

It’s almost inauguration day, which usually means that we know who’s going to be president for the next four years. However, if there’s anything that the 2016 election cycle has taught us—no matter what our political beliefs—it’s that we don’t know anything.And even though Donald Trump will become the 45th president at noon tomorrow (I keep hoping Obama will resign before then so that Biden becomes the 45th president and all of Trump’s 45th president merchandise is ruined (petty, I know), but I don’t think it’s happening), to say that he’s going to be president for the next four years seems like a wild assumption for a number of reasons.First, let’s look at history.Up to this point there have been 44 presidents. Five of them have died during their first term. So, about one of every nine. And we just so happen to have had nine presidents since the last one who died during his first term.In addition to those five who died during their first term, three more died in a following term. Another resigned. So that’s nine presidents total who didn’t finish the terms to which they were elected.History tells us we’re due.But it’s not history that makes me think that President Trump (I just mouth-puked typing those words in that order) won’t finish his first term. It’s the man himself, and the political climate in which we currently live.Trump is unlike any president we’ve ever had. Running for president requires an inflated ego by nature. It’s the only way that someone can look at the most powerful job in the world and think, “Yeah, I can do that!”But Trump’s ego isn’t just inflated. It’s beyond inflated. In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t burst yet. The man is a narcissist of the highest order. I doubt he’s self-aware enough to have ever visited a mental health professional, but if he did I wouldn’t be surprised if he were diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder.Symptoms: exaggerated sense of self-importance; expecting unwarranted recognition as being superior; exaggerating achievements and talent; preoccupation with fantasies about success, power and beauty; believing you are superior; requiring constant admiration; taking advantage of others; behaving in an arrogant or haughty manner.There have been numerous times during the course of the campaign and transition that I’ve thought, “What’s wrong with this guy?” I don’t mean that in the we-disagree-politically way, but rather in the this-guy’s-a-madman way.It’s not hard to imagine a stew consisting of his innate personality disorder, his lack of governing and government experience, the pressures of the office, the endless criticism that he’ll receive, and the existence of his business interests as a fallback, boiling over and resulting in his removal from office.I’m sure he’s asked himself more than once, “Why the hell did I do this?” I don’t believe that he ever thought he would win or that he ever wanted to win. So when the going gets tough, I’ll be surprised if he sticks around.The end of the Trump presidency could arrive in a number of ways.First, he could resign. This might seem unlikely since he sought the office, and since resigning would be an admission that he wasn’t up to the job, but it seems entirely possible to me. I can imagine a situation where something so personally damning is revealed that he has no choice but to resign. Or perhaps he wakes up one day, realizes that he hasn’t peed in a gold toilet in more than a week, and decides enough is enough.Second, he could be impeached. This seems the most likely outcome to me. It seems extremely unlikely that he’ll be able to avoid breaking the law or becoming a danger to the well-being of the country for four years. In a row.Don’t forget his vice-president is Mike Pence. He used to be a Republican congressman, and most of his friends are still serving in the House. I can’t imagine anything the House Republicans would love more than to have one of their own in the Oval Office. Lucky for them I suspect President Trump will commit plenty of impeachable offenses.The third, and probably least likely, possibility is that his cabinet and Mike Pence invoke the twenty-fifth amendment, declare him incapacitated, and remove him from office. This can’t be done lightly, as some will view it as a coup. However, if Trump turns out to be as much of a lunatic as he appears, there may be universal support for this at some point in the next four years.Let’s also not forget that when Trump takes office he’ll be the oldest person ever inaugurated as president. He’s not a picture of physical fitness, and he thinks that moving his arms during speeches is enough exercise to keep him healthy, and he’s about to begin perhaps the most stressful job in the world.So although the thought of President Trump for the next four years is revolting to me, I suspect he won’t be in office that long.If 2018 begins with President Trump in office, I’ll be surprised.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: How Do YOU Defend Donald Trump?PREVIOUS POST: In Defense of Kids Staying Up Late

In Defense of Kids Staying Up Late

The National Sleep Foundation recommends that kids aged six to thirteen sleep for 9-11 hours per night. That sounds about right to me. I’ve got three kids in that age range, and they all get about eleven hours of sleep per night.If we reduce that to ten hours, they’re a little sluggish in the morning. Nine hours means that I better drink some tea the night before because I’m going to have to soothe my throat for the yelling that will ensue in the morning.Just kidding. I don’t yell. Or do I not drink tea? One or the other. I don’t remember.Anyway, my kids go to school most of the time. They have weekends off. And some holidays. And some random days in April for some reason. So usually they’re asleep by eight o’clock since I wake them up at 6:45. They’re well-rested, they’re not crabby, and they get to school on time. So we must be doing something right.However, they only go to school 180 days a year, which means there are 185 days a year in which they don’t go to school. So 185 nights a year are not school nights. And really, if you’re a kid, is there anything better than hearing, “It’s not a school night?”“Snow day,” is probably a little better, but those words lose some of their magic since you have to make them up.And for the Baker kids, “It’s not a school night,” translates to “There’s no bedtime.”Monday is Martin Luther King Jr. Day. My kids have no school. So Sunday wasn’t a school night. So they didn’t go to bed at eight o’clock. In fact, as I write these words at half past midnight, the three youngest Baker children (aged twelve, ten and six) are yelling and laughing as they sprawl out while playing Minecraft.I just asked all three of them if they were tired and two answered “No,” and one answered, “Not at all.” That might have something to do with the fact that none of them woke up before ten o’clock this morning.This is standard operating procedure for my kids though. They were born to two night owl parents. I love to sleep. However, my neverending love for sleep is much stronger in the morning than it is at night. So I often find myself staying up later than I should. I’ve become used to operating on a less-than-ideal amount of sleep.However, I compensate as well. One night last week I slept for ten hours because the night before I only slept for four. As much as I enjoyed the ten-hour night, I’m more likely to repeat the four-hour night.But my kids’ sleep amounts are more consistent. Regardless of what time they go to bed, it’s a pretty safe bet that they’ll get their eleven hours of sleep.So during extended breaks from school—such as the seventeen-day Christmas break we just enjoyed—breakfast becomes lunch, and mornings are extremely quiet.There are numerous reasons for these late nights. Most of them relate to having night owl parents.First, there’s probably something in my kids’ genes that drives them to stay up late and wake up late.There’s no more overrated band in the history of music than The Doors, but amongst all of their melodramatic, crappy music, they did manage to write one decent line: “The day destroys the night/ night divides the day.”As a generic, blanket statement, the night is more interesting than the day. Since my kids are products of two people who recognize that truth, it only makes sense that they’d take advantage of any opportunity to experience more of the night.Second, since I’m up late most of the time anyway, I take advantage of any opportunity to let my kids stay up late. For if they stay up late, they’re going to wake up late. And if they wake up late, then I get to wake up late. If I made them go to bed early, they’d wake up early, and I have zero interest in waking up at six-thirty on a Saturday morning.I’ve got four kids. I know that most “experts” talk about the importance of routine for kids, and I agree with that for the most part. But through experience I also know that my kids like staying up late, they’re able to transition back into a regular sleep schedule rather easily, and we have tons of fun staying up late that we might not ordinarily have.Many things are funnier at midnight than they are at seven o’clock in the evening. I don’t know why. That’s just the way it is. If my kids never stayed up late they’d think I was an idiot. I need their delirium to let my genius sink in.So they’ll stay up late tonight, and they’ll sleep late on Monday, but they’ll go to bed at regular time Monday night. Maybe they’ll be a bit tired on Tuesday, but by Tuesday night they’ll be wiped out, ready for bed, and back into their “regular” schedules.I don’t anticipate these non-school nights ever changing. They like staying up late, and I like hanging out with them. They know school night bedtimes are non-negotiable, and they know that if we have to wake up early on a non-school day they may have to go to bed earlier than they expect on a non-school night.Otherwise, I say let them stay up. They’ll be stuck with adult responsibilities soon enough. Until then, they’ll make enough good memories from those late nights to make up for any sleepy days they experience.And in the end, it’s the good memories that matter.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Why Are Parents so Dumb?PREVIOUS POST: Writer's Block Doesn't Exist

Writer's Block Doesn't Exist

Before writing this sentence, I faced a writer’s worst fear: the blank page. Whether the page is virtual or real, the prospect of having to fill that blank space with words can be rather daunting.And for most writers—those lucky enough to make a living at it excepted—no one demands that they write.Nothing happens to me if I don’t write. Someone might mention that they haven’t seen any posts from me in a while, or someone might ask me if I’m working on anything, but there are no real consequences if I don’t write.Yet I regularly sit in front of a blank screen, move my fingers a little, and fill a page. Why do I do that?I do it because I don’t want to not write. I feel like an unproductive slacker, and I’d prefer to avoid feeling like that, if at all possible.Very often I hear other writers say one or another variant of, “I should write something, but….”And then an excuse. The only thing writers do better than write is make excuses.I don’t have the time. I have other obligations. My kids keep me so busy. I need to spend some time with my spouse. I’m too tired after work. My computer is broken.Those are all valid excuses, I suppose. I could tear holes in each one of them, but that’s not my goal this time, so I’ll accept that each of those is a valid reason for not writing.But what’s completely invalid is maybe the most common excuse that I’ve seen other writers use: I don’t have anything to write about. Writer’s block.Before I started writing the concept of writer’s block fascinated me. A writer could just run out of things to say? They could essentially use up all of their words? That sounds scary. What do they do then?When I started writing it became even more worrisome. I worried that someday the words would stop coming and I’d suffer the grotesque fate of being blocked.And there are times when I’m absolutely convinced that I have nothing else to write about. Whether I’m writing this blog or writing fiction, I’m sure that I’ve just run out of words, and I’ve constructed my last sentence.However, I soon recognized a pattern. The only time that I suffer from writer’s block is when I’m not writing. When I am writing, the writer’s block magically disappears.At first glance, one might consider writer’s block similar to the case of the chicken or the egg. Am I blocked because I’m not writing, or am I not writing because I’m blocked? But the answer is clear.I’m blocked because I’m not writing.Often when I think that I have nothing to write, I’ll sit in front of the computer with the blank screen staring at me. And if I want to write a blog post, all I have to do is start writing. It doesn’t matter what I’m saying. Just write words. Those words will lead to a blog post.Grocery list. Cardboard box. Dr. Seuss hat. Those are the first three things that came to mind just now. I’m writing a post about writer’s block, but if I want to I can now follow this with a post about grocery lists (the inconvenience of forgetting a list at home, buying things that aren’t on the list, what happens when the person shopping isn’t the person who made the list), cardboard boxes (the cardboard tool kit my daughter got for Christmas, how every grocery store backroom smells the same, whether Amazon’s existence has been a boon for cardboard box companies), or Dr. Seuss hats (would a cat claw you to death before it let you put a hat on its head, is the Grinch green as a commentary on greed, what kind of hat should you wear to the different places you’ll go).Some of those are good ideas. Some of them are stupid. Maybe none of them would result in a blog post worth reading. But all of them would serve to make me suddenly not blocked.If I’m writing fiction and I don’t know what happens next, then I just have to make one character talk to another and something always happens. If I write myself into a corner and have too many different things going on, the answer isn’t to give up. The answer is to write more. Let the story and the characters work themselves out.Not everything I write will be good. It can’t be. But it exists, and that’s the first step. But it doesn’t exist until I make it exist.Do the work and then it’s done. Just like this post.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Dr. Seuss is TupacPREVIOUS POST: How To Get Your Hatchimal to Work

How To Get Your Hatchimal to Work

I’d love to know how toys become popular. Not just popular, but must-haves. Actually, not even just must-haves. I want to know how they rise to the level of “I’ll stand outside for three hours before the store even opens just in case one came in on the delivery truck overnight.”This year’s must-have—in addition to the NES Classic Edition—is the Hatchimal.If you’re reading this, then you probably know what a Hatchimal is. But if not, let me clue you in. It’s a bird-like, furry toy that comes in an egg, from which it hatches after 15-40 minutes. Then it’s a baby animal, and if it’s nurtured by the child who received it, it progresses through babyhood and childhood.When my daughter’s great aunt scored a Hatchimal a few weeks back we suspected my daughter would be excited since she loves all things animals and all things baby. Combine the two and—behold!—Christmas present perfection.Until the damn thing doesn’t work!This is where impatient child, frustrated dad, uncooperative toy, and holiday hype all join together in an explosive mixture of impending doom that only becomes more ominous as the seconds tick by and the toy fails to respond.That’s what happened in our house.My daughter unwrapped the toy. Her mother opened it. My daughter played with the egg, nurtured it, rubbed it, was very gentle with it. Nothing. It’s supposed to make sounds. The eyes are supposed to glow through the shell. It’s supposed to start pecking.Nothing.Sure, it can take some time. As much as forty minutes. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Not only didn’t it break the shell, it didn’t make any noise. No eyes glowed.We had a dud.But every dad has encountered a similar situation and has reacted the same way: let me see if I can figure it out.If you’ve found yourself in the above situation, and you can’t figure it out, let me help.First, at the bottom of the egg there are two plastic keys. These need to be turned 90 degrees to electronically unlock the toy. To bring it to life. One of the keys in our egg had fallen out as soon as we opened it.If your Hatchimal isn’t responding, you might have the same problem.If you still have one of the keys to your Hatchimal, try re-inserting it. This probably won’t work because the animal inside the egg spins around after the key is released.If you can’t get the key back in, hold the egg in your hand and twist it back-and-forth, which moves around the animal inside. While twisting it, try pushing the key in. Eventually the animal inside will return to its original position and you’ll be able to insert the key.After you get the key inserted, try turning it both ways—the directions say turn it to the right, but I’m pretty sure we had to turn ours to left. Turning these keys are not as easy and straightforward as described in the directions. Move them back-and-forth and I suspect your Hatchimal will come to life.You’ll know it worked because the animal inside the egg will immediately make baby animal noises and the eyes will probably shine through the egg.When it works, be sure to strut around the house and remind your kids who fixed the toy. This is a prime time for gloating. Don’t shortchange yourself.If it doesn’t work…good luck.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: I Was Wrong, The National Toy Hall of Fame Doesn't SuckPREVIOUS POST: I Don't Worry About Being Kidnapped Anymore

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