I pulled a pair white socks out of my drawer yesterday and they fit really well. That's big news because all my socks are just slightly too small for me.
Then I realized they must fit well because they're my son’s socks.
He’s in his early 30s, but still has some clothes in the house. Somehow, I got hold of a pair of his socks. Probably because our cats dragged them out of his old bedroom. They do stuff like that all the time.
But why did his socks fit me so well when we have about the same sized feet? And all of my socks are a bit too small.
(Slap your forehead!)
Then the light dawned. Because I’m 11 ½, I've have spent my entire life buying socks marked 9-12 and, because I'm notoriously tight, continued wearing them even after they had shrunk.
How stupid is that?
I’ve been wearing undersized socks my entire life -- self consciously pulling them up to keep bare skin from showing -- because I’ve followed the labels. Then they shrank. While my son, obviously, simply bought the next size up.
From now on I buy extra large instead of large.
But there's still the question: why on earth didn’t I do that before?
And what do I do with all my oh-so-wearable, slightly-too-small socks?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Maybe child-like, certainly not childish
I ran across Baudelaire's definition of genius: the ability to recapture childhood at will.
I like it: There's something refreshingly, freeingly French about it.
I don't like it: Growing up, getting some of the childishness out of my life, has been a long journey and worthwhile task.
I like it: There's something refreshingly, freeingly French about it.
I don't like it: Growing up, getting some of the childishness out of my life, has been a long journey and worthwhile task.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Putting your mouth where your money is
Paul Krugman’s Monday column in the New York Times had two great quotes. (He was hot.)
1. Upton Sinclair: “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.”
Some of the arguments being sold and brought in the current civic debate are comically bizarre. (In fact, The Comedy Channel’s Daily Show has become a huge success just by showing what's being said so viewers can laugh at it.)
And yet people who should know better continue to participate in this foolishness. Or, worse yet, refuse to call their fellows on the insanity of it all. Smart, respected people who are in a position to do a lot of good.
To paraphrase Upton Sinclair, “It is difficult to get people to understand something when their power or position or, yes, their money too depends upon their not understanding it.”
2. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, reflecting on the stock market crash and Great Depression: “We have always known that heedless self-interest was bad morals; we know now that it is bad economics.”
In this case, it’s a radical reversal of that quote that seems to apply: We should known by now that headless self-interest is bad economics but, in these days, we seem to have forgotten that headless self-interest is bad morals too.
See, I'm not accusing these people merely of political posturing or insincerity. No, I'm talking about something much worse.
We’re missing men and women of candor and courage in our national dialog. And we badly need them right now.
1. Upton Sinclair: “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.”
Some of the arguments being sold and brought in the current civic debate are comically bizarre. (In fact, The Comedy Channel’s Daily Show has become a huge success just by showing what's being said so viewers can laugh at it.)
And yet people who should know better continue to participate in this foolishness. Or, worse yet, refuse to call their fellows on the insanity of it all. Smart, respected people who are in a position to do a lot of good.
To paraphrase Upton Sinclair, “It is difficult to get people to understand something when their power or position or, yes, their money too depends upon their not understanding it.”
2. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, reflecting on the stock market crash and Great Depression: “We have always known that heedless self-interest was bad morals; we know now that it is bad economics.”
In this case, it’s a radical reversal of that quote that seems to apply: We should known by now that headless self-interest is bad economics but, in these days, we seem to have forgotten that headless self-interest is bad morals too.
See, I'm not accusing these people merely of political posturing or insincerity. No, I'm talking about something much worse.
We’re missing men and women of candor and courage in our national dialog. And we badly need them right now.
Friday, August 21, 2009
A learning about blogs
Someone asked me for my blog’s URL last night and I couldn’t remember it. I think that’s because the URL is different from the name.
While I know every word I write is unforgettable, if I hope to attract and maintain any followers at all, it makes sense to remove that barrier. So welcome to “Usually, For The Most Part.”
When I started blogging a couple of months ago, I came here to blogspot.com because they make it so easy. The only downside: my blog name (Generalizations) wasn’t available as a URL. And I really liked “Generalizations.” It fit what I wanted to do with the blog. It looked cool on the masthead. And it fits me.
Watch out, here comes the digression.
Twenty-five years ago (way back), when I was a minister for a few years, one of the people who sat through my Sunday morning ramblings made me a T-shirt with the letters MOTNFTMP on it. It stood for “more often than not for the most part.” After listening to me for a while, she spotted my inclination to generalization. She was right and it became a joke between us.
Another digression: This tendency to generalize is symptomatic of my mind’s geography. I’m so far out on the conceptual end of the conceptual-concrete continuum, I’m almost learning disabled. (Another story for another blog entry.) Hand me some facts and my head automatically digresses and generalizes. I lose details almost immediately — ask my wife — but retain conceptual frameworks forever.
Enough of that.
This blogging thing is a learn-as-you-go experience. So out with “Generalizations.” Welcome to the new and wonderful “Usually, For The Most Part.”
And a huge welcome to the millions of new followers who will undoubtedly join my current seven.
While I know every word I write is unforgettable, if I hope to attract and maintain any followers at all, it makes sense to remove that barrier. So welcome to “Usually, For The Most Part.”
When I started blogging a couple of months ago, I came here to blogspot.com because they make it so easy. The only downside: my blog name (Generalizations) wasn’t available as a URL. And I really liked “Generalizations.” It fit what I wanted to do with the blog. It looked cool on the masthead. And it fits me.
Watch out, here comes the digression.
Twenty-five years ago (way back), when I was a minister for a few years, one of the people who sat through my Sunday morning ramblings made me a T-shirt with the letters MOTNFTMP on it. It stood for “more often than not for the most part.” After listening to me for a while, she spotted my inclination to generalization. She was right and it became a joke between us.
Another digression: This tendency to generalize is symptomatic of my mind’s geography. I’m so far out on the conceptual end of the conceptual-concrete continuum, I’m almost learning disabled. (Another story for another blog entry.) Hand me some facts and my head automatically digresses and generalizes. I lose details almost immediately — ask my wife — but retain conceptual frameworks forever.
Enough of that.
This blogging thing is a learn-as-you-go experience. So out with “Generalizations.” Welcome to the new and wonderful “Usually, For The Most Part.”
And a huge welcome to the millions of new followers who will undoubtedly join my current seven.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
That's my strongest area
I’m working on a presentation that involves talking about my love of new ideas, and how typical it is for me to run down the hall and tell someone whenever I have one.
Which reminds me of an old axiom: your greatest weaknesses are often found in the same area as your greatest strengths.
In this case, you’d be correct in saying that I have strong verbal skills. And I talk too much.
Ring any axiomatic bells?
Which reminds me of an old axiom: your greatest weaknesses are often found in the same area as your greatest strengths.
In this case, you’d be correct in saying that I have strong verbal skills. And I talk too much.
Ring any axiomatic bells?
Point weak — shout!
All the shouting in the health care debate got me thinking about values formation. (I bet that's what jumped into your head too.) That’s the part of developmental psychology I studied way back when.
I remember the stuff about adolescents grouping up. How they dress like their group, talk like their group and absorb all their group's values as a way of dealing with the scary on-your-own-ness of those years.
When they head out into a larger world and sense fissures forming in the group-think, they face some hard decisions. Will they let their closed system open up and re-form in a broader, more resonant way? Or will they turn back. Will they erect elaborate defenses for a rulebook that doesn’t quite work anymore.
We cycle through those choices many time in our lives. And it’s not always easy to decide whether to move ahead or hang on.
After my pastor-father died, I inherited his library — a lot of great stuff there. I found one book dated from the 1940s. I won’t get the number in the title right, but it was something like, “472 Bible Problems Solved.” I remember thinking, if you’ve got to twist and turn that much, you may be approaching the Bible the wrong way.
Dad also used to tell a story about a preacher who wrote in the margin of his sermon notes: “Point weak — shout!”
A lot of the shouting we’re hearing right now sounds to me like the unconvincing lines of defense we erect when we’re standing in an indefensible place.
I remember the stuff about adolescents grouping up. How they dress like their group, talk like their group and absorb all their group's values as a way of dealing with the scary on-your-own-ness of those years.
When they head out into a larger world and sense fissures forming in the group-think, they face some hard decisions. Will they let their closed system open up and re-form in a broader, more resonant way? Or will they turn back. Will they erect elaborate defenses for a rulebook that doesn’t quite work anymore.
We cycle through those choices many time in our lives. And it’s not always easy to decide whether to move ahead or hang on.
After my pastor-father died, I inherited his library — a lot of great stuff there. I found one book dated from the 1940s. I won’t get the number in the title right, but it was something like, “472 Bible Problems Solved.” I remember thinking, if you’ve got to twist and turn that much, you may be approaching the Bible the wrong way.
Dad also used to tell a story about a preacher who wrote in the margin of his sermon notes: “Point weak — shout!”
A lot of the shouting we’re hearing right now sounds to me like the unconvincing lines of defense we erect when we’re standing in an indefensible place.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Update on "not true."
I mentioned earlier the extreme reluctance of reporters to say, "This is what is being said, but it's not true."
Today the Minneapolis StarTrib carries an AP and LA Times "Health Care Reform Q&A" that breaks the rule. It says, "There's been a big uproar over the health care overhaul bill. Critics ... say the bill would set up a 'death panel' .... They are wrong."
I know it falls in the area of comment--it's not strictly a news story. But still, I'm amazed. And delighted.
Today the Minneapolis StarTrib carries an AP and LA Times "Health Care Reform Q&A" that breaks the rule. It says, "There's been a big uproar over the health care overhaul bill. Critics ... say the bill would set up a 'death panel' .... They are wrong."
I know it falls in the area of comment--it's not strictly a news story. But still, I'm amazed. And delighted.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Not really.
Myth: everyone has a right to speak and, if you listen carefully, everyone has something valuable to contribute.
No. Some people have spent their right. You don’t have to respect stupid or dishonest.
No. Some people have spent their right. You don’t have to respect stupid or dishonest.
Ok, Ok, I'm happy.
Emmy Award-winning film producer, screenwriter and director Judd Apatow has produced a string of fairly successful comedies: Anchorman, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Talladega Nights, Knocked Up, Superbad, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Step Brothers, Pineapple Express, and Funny People.
Whether they're your taste or not, he's doing well.
When he was asked in a recent interview whether or not he was happy, he said, “If I’m not happy, I should be punched in the face.”
As a compulsively careful person, there's something I really like about that. I'm also guessing that's true for me too.
Whether they're your taste or not, he's doing well.
When he was asked in a recent interview whether or not he was happy, he said, “If I’m not happy, I should be punched in the face.”
As a compulsively careful person, there's something I really like about that. I'm also guessing that's true for me too.
Accept their premise and you’ve got no chance.
It’s virtually impossible to have a conversation with someone whose going-in premise is not true.
For instance:
Being a politician means maintaining certain uniform positions—you are always for or against certain things and that never changes. The reason it never changes is because your positions are highly principled, so when you have changed them, you really haven’t. If, on the other hand, your opponent changes his or her position, it’s a disastrous flip-flop.
Reporting the news is not about getting the facts right; it’s about fairness. And fairness is based on letting people on each side of the issue speak for the same amount of time. Both must be given the same weight. You must not make judgments; that's not being a good reporter. And reporting is what you do. You never say, “that’s not true.”
Christianity is about obeying the Bible. You don’t interpret; you obey. Interpreting is putting your word above God’s word. And all real Christians have understood and obeyed the same Bible since the beginning of time. That's how we know it's true and has got to be obeyed.
Normal is what your family and friends believe, do, love, hate or dress like. That’s why they call it common sense. And you know it’s right because the only ones who question it are people who think they’re smarter than you, which automatically makes them wrong, and probably dangerous to our way of life, because they’re not normal and don’t have common sense.
None of this is true, of course. But thinking like it, in all sorts of areas, forms the basis of much of what you read and hear.
You’ve got no chance with these people.
For instance:
Being a politician means maintaining certain uniform positions—you are always for or against certain things and that never changes. The reason it never changes is because your positions are highly principled, so when you have changed them, you really haven’t. If, on the other hand, your opponent changes his or her position, it’s a disastrous flip-flop.
Reporting the news is not about getting the facts right; it’s about fairness. And fairness is based on letting people on each side of the issue speak for the same amount of time. Both must be given the same weight. You must not make judgments; that's not being a good reporter. And reporting is what you do. You never say, “that’s not true.”
Christianity is about obeying the Bible. You don’t interpret; you obey. Interpreting is putting your word above God’s word. And all real Christians have understood and obeyed the same Bible since the beginning of time. That's how we know it's true and has got to be obeyed.
Normal is what your family and friends believe, do, love, hate or dress like. That’s why they call it common sense. And you know it’s right because the only ones who question it are people who think they’re smarter than you, which automatically makes them wrong, and probably dangerous to our way of life, because they’re not normal and don’t have common sense.
None of this is true, of course. But thinking like it, in all sorts of areas, forms the basis of much of what you read and hear.
You’ve got no chance with these people.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
I don't think we're there yet
Garrison Keillor returned to one of his favorite themes in his Minneapolis Star-Trib column today: oh, the suffering we go through for our art.
It’s true.
I write advertising and, oh, the suffering. Well, maybe not. But there’s no sure way to package the creative process or make it easy.
Extra hours don’t guarantee great stuff, but you usually need to put them in to find an elegant idea. Even then it may be the first idea or the last one. And I always have the feeling that there’s something else out there that’s better, if I just had more time.
No one can see what’s going on in your head and, in advertising, everything you create gets changed by somebody, usually by several somebodies. The best learning is to take pleasure in the pure idea when it comes to you. Enjoy the delight. Because when you tell someone about it, there’s every chance you’ll hear the dreaded: “I don’t get it.”
I’ve got a temporary boss right now and, to get to know everyone quickly, he asked us to bring examples of work we’re proud of. I found that hard because I’m seldom satisfied and virtually nothing, in its final form, is the way I envisioned it. Of course, some of it is much better because I work with talented people. But it’s never a straight line.
You know the changing-a-light-bulb jokes? I love the one about designers and art directors.
Q: “How many designers does it take to change a light bulb?
A: “Does it have to be a light bulb?”
So the rest of you just have to get used to it. We who create for a living always have to come at it from all sorts of strange angles. We need to see it differently to succeed.
But, oh, the pain.
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