It’s Important to Teach Our Children What to Yell at Concerts

Content: Free Bird

Introduction: Not the greatest guitar solo (hello Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah), not the best stadium rock song (hello Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer), not the most iconic southern rock song (hello Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Southern Rock), but the best combination of all three, Free Bird is number one with a bullet on the list of “Top Five Songs John is Most Likely to Yell Out at Any Live Concert Regardless of Venue, Genre or Audience.” I’m such a fan that Alicia questioned my “Johnhood” (her word, not mine) for not writing about it yet.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 2

Reason for That Age: I want Dream to be old enough to really dig the rhythms, guitars and drums of the epic instrumental portion at the end. Babies bounce around to music at all ages (and Dream already responds very favorably to sea chanties, as evidence by his/her reaction to the Portsmouth Maritime Folk Festival we attended a few weeks ago), but I picture Dream fully walking, holding some sort of plastic guitar, and thrashing around with me to the guitar duet and drum work during the last 5-45 minutes of the song.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: I hope this begins a respectful relationship between Dream and southern rock, frequently the form of rock music with the most pathos and ethos. I suppose I also want Dream to gain further exposure to my “Johnhood,” but the poor kid is going to get that in spades already.

Be content,
John

Poetry and Whimsical Loss

Content: Casey at the Bat

Introduction: For anyone who loves baseball and the spoken word, Casey at the Bat is required reading. Originally written in 1885 by a former Harvard Lampoon author for a Hearst paper, its spirit is adequately summed up by Albert Spalding (a late 19th century pitcher, who started with the original Boston Red Stockings club that is better known today as the Atlanta Braves): “Love has its sonnets galore. War has its epics in heroic verse. Tragedy its sombre story in measured lines. Baseball has Casey at the Bat.”

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 4 or 5

Reason for That Age: Dream has no idea what he or she is in for as a sports fan. God help this child if it does not have a deep and abiding love for the Boston Red Sox. I’m a fan of baseball the game, and my favorite baseball team is the Boston Red Sox. This distinguishing me from my wife in a subtle way: She is a fan of the Boston Red Sox, and because they play baseball, she suffers baseball. If the Red Sox played curling, she would watch curling. If they baked, she would watch baking. But because the Sox play baseball, she likes to have baseball on in the background almost every night during the season. So everyone’s life will be a little bit easier if Dream likes baseball and the Red Sox. So Casey at the Bat needs to come into his or her life at the junction of baseball awareness and the ability to listen to a poem for 10 minutes. I think 4 or 5 is a good age for that.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Two things: A greater love of spoken word poetry and an appreciation that you must always try. No matter how good you are at anything, if you don’t try you lose.

Be content,
John

Content: Rudy

Introduction: A friend of mine from DC, Ken, went to Notre Dame. He loves Notre Dame. He cries every time he watches Rudy, and he’s not the only Notre Dame alum who does. Rudy is a love letter to Notre Dame. Its music, plot, and dialogue are all crafted to give substance to the mythic image of Notre Dame. Not the actual Notre Dame of today – a fairly well-regarded, conservative Catholic college with a middling Division I football program – but the Notre Dame that the school aspires to be, how it sees itself in a Mirror Erised. (Hey, how about that? A Harry Potter reference in the middle of Rudy!) Every school would love to have a movie like Rudy. It sells Notre Dame better than Notre Dame could ever sell itself.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 8 or 9

Reason for That Age: To really get something out of Rudy, Dream needs to be old enough to understand a little bit of sports. He or she doesn’t have to like sports, but understanding sports is important. He or she also needs to be old enough to know the flavor of success that comes when you overcome disappointment in achieving it. I don’t mean like getting over Asperberger’s Syndrome to become a world champion ballroom dancer, but feeling frustrated with multiplying 7 and 8 for a while before tasting the sweet victory of 56 is sufficient. And at 8 or 9, Dream will be full of the wizardry and magic that starts to elude us as we get older, but will also be newly capable of feeling inspired in a way that is this movie’s bread and butter.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Ideally, Dream will file this away and use it (consciously or not) when he or she runs into a big problem. I want Rudy to infiltrate Dream’s understanding of the hard work that is necessary to achieve your goals and dreams. I also hope Dream realizes that if your goals don’t require work and dedication, you need to find better dreams.

Be content,
John

Find the Pickle Truck

Content: Richard Scarry

Introduction: In high school, my friend Tim was torn between music classes and automotive repair classes. He had interest in both, and really struggled trying to figure out which one he wanted to concentrate on. When Mr. Dugal, our music teacher, saw Tim’s angst over these decisions, he jokingly asked Tim “Why do you want to take these car classes? You can’t find the pickle truck on your own?” This was an obvious reference to Richard Scarry’s extensive bookshelf of Busy Town volumes, which asks young readers to follow a simple story through wonderful drawings of anthropomorphic animals driving trucks and cars. A recurring theme is that readers are asked to find Goldbug (a tiny gold bug driving a tiny gold car), hence Dugal’s typically witty question.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 1

Reason for That Age: There is nothing even remotely objectionable in Richard Scarry’s books… unless you somehow think that he racially profiles because it’s always cats getting pulled over by the cops. But there is enough narrative and details that it is lost on really small children. I’m not even certain that 1 is old enough, but I think that Dream will be able to grow with them: peering with fascination at the colored drawings when he or she is 1; listening intently to the stories at age 2; and maybe finding Goldbug at age 3. I suspect that Scarry’s books are more popular among boys because of the prevalence of cars and trucks, but the drawings are delightfully whimsical and will be loved by any child.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: At that age, I’d like Dream to gain a greater appreciation of books. Ideally, I’d love the child to think back to his or her Richard Scarry books as the beginning of a life time of loving books, similar to his father. I also hope the books are another opportunity for Dream and me to sit down and interact with books over milk and cookies, to lay the ground work to sit and discuss longer books over scotch and soda.

Be content,
John

Pop Rock for All Ages

Content: Beatles

Introduction: Seriously – you need to be introduced to the Beatles?

Dream’s Age at Introduction: Birth

Reason for That Age: Come on! The Beatles are iconic. We’re making a play list for the birthing room, and there’s a decent chance that Dream will be born to a Beatles song. I have no doubt that throughout Dream’s first year, both Alicia and I will sing Beatles songs to Dream and dance around with him or her. It’s not so much that I think this is a good age to introduce the music to Dream, but I know inevitably, Dream will be introduced to the Beatles’ music from birth. I’ve heard from other people who worry that some songs in the Beatles’ catalogue are not appropriate for little kids, but I skimmed their albums and while some are likely over the heads of little kids, I couldn’t think of any that would warp Dream more than Alicia and I intend to.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Obviously, I want Dream to be familiar with the Beatles from a cultural literacy perspective. But I also think that Beatle sing-alongs will be useful in developing early music skills and an appreciation of harmony. I’m really looking forward to the first time I hear Dream’s voice from the car seat singing the words Lady Madonna (or a close facsimile).

Be content,
John

Introduction to Classic Cinema Part I: The Philadelphia Story

Content: The Philadelphia Story

Introduction: This is intended to be the first in an occurring series of entries on classic Hollywood movies that I want Dream to be familiar with. The first is The Philadelphia Story, probably my favorite from the golden age of Hollywood, starring Jimmy Stewart, Katherine Hepburn, and Cary Grant.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 11 or 12

Reason for That Age: The Philadelphia Story is a romantic comedy, that in its drinking/hangover scenes lapses into the region of screwball comedy. As was standard for the era, the language and subject matter are fairly family friendly. The only concern I have is that Dream will need to be old enough to realize what too much wine will do to you in order to appreciate the brilliance of those scenes, while at the same time mature enough to have had the “don’t drink” conversation with me and Alicia. I think 11 or 12 ought to thread that needle pretty well. He or she will also need to be young enough so as not to view an older romantic comedy through the jaded eyes of a teenager. The movie is very well written, and if you’re willing to be charmed it is incredibly charming.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Dream should gain a greater appreciation of the wit of films and plays from that era, the 40s and 50s. The stars of that era – the Rat Pack, Stewart, Hepburn, Judy Garland, Nat King Cole, etc. – had a low key approach that seems antiquated today. Frequently, it seems that celebrities today are famous for being obnoxious. I like to think that many of these older movies – and The Philadelphia Story is a great example – demonstrate an alternative. You can be understated and still be talented; you can speak reasonably and still be heard; you can be polite and still be devastating. I’d like Dream to absorb some of that.

Be content,
John

"Talk weird you would if puppet with hand up ass you were" - Star Wars at the Right Time in the Right Order

Content: Star Wars bi-trilogy

Introduction: Growing up, my friend Jenny was fond of saying that there were only three worthwhile wars in all of human history: the Civil War, World War II, and Star Wars. Prior to 1999, many people agreed with Hooper X from Chasing Amy, who called it “the Holy Trilogy.” For many people my age, the original Star Wars trilogy is not just pop culture or great movies. They’re American myth, Joseph Campbell made real and internalized in our hearts and souls. And despite George Lucas’ best efforts to turn an American culture quasi-religious experience into a vehicle for Happy Meal sales, the Star Wars series (and I’m going to include the cartoon movie The Clone Wars in this conversation for the sake of completeness) remains one of the most significant monuments of American culture.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 5 for A New Hope, and we’ll go from there in the order that the films appeared in the theaters. The prequels will remain just that; they will not become the first three movies of the franchise.

Reason for That Age: The original Star Wars movie, A New Hope, is really a fairy tale played out on a movie screen. It’s Jack and the Beanstalk or Aladdin: A young boy goes on an adventure larger than he ever could have imagined and becomes a hero. Under that classification, A New Hope is appropriate at almost any age.; whenever you start reading fairy tales to your kids, they are old enough to watch A New Hope. But I disagree for two reasons. First, having the visuals to accompany the story is scary for little kids, and the visuals for Star Wars fantastic. Second, I want Dream to appreciate the importance of what he or she is watching. These aren’t just fun movies. They are a cultural milestone and Dream should be properly pumped up to watch them.

As noted above, I’ll start Dream on A New Hope and move on from there, exposing the child to each movie in the order in which they were released, preventing Dream from viewing the movies in their “proper” order. This is for several reasons.

• First, and most importantly, screw you George Lucas. If you are blessed enough to give birth to historically relevant content that affects millions of people, you don’t get to mess around with it after the fact. Da Vinci didn’t get to paint legs on the Mona Lisa; Mozart didn’t get to write The Divorce of Figaro. Lucas doesn’t get to remodel the Star Wars trilogy as a sequel to a vanity project. George, just take a bow and admire your huge contribution to western civilization. Having said that, I recognize that artists retain rights to their work. So be it. I will honor Lucas’ desire to make another billion dollars on Star Wars by revealing the prequel chapters as prequels. (I should add that I don’t think the prequels are as bad as some people do. They are not nearly as well written, directed, acted, etc. as the original movies, but they are fairly entertaining and answer some questions from the first three movies.)

• Second, I’m not sure I could live with myself if I allowed Dream to be in a position to say “I don’t know Dad, the ones with Luke seem kind of lame. Nothing cool happens during the light saber fights.” Dream deserves better than that, and I worry that kids care too much about the computer graphics. By watching the original trilogy first, Dream will realize that its story is vastly superior to the prequels and won’t be taken by their slickness. It’s the rule of primacy.

• Third, Lucas once said that the big surprise of the original trilogy is that Luke is Darth Vader’s son and that the big surprise of the prequels is that Darth Vader started as an innocent child. To a certain extent, I agree with that analysis. But both surprises are blown by watching the prequels first.

Based on how Dream responds to A New Hope, I’ll move on the Empire Strikes Back, etc. Ideally, it’d be great to do these in six to eight consecutive weekends, but it might stretch out over a couple years.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Dream should be ready to engage in intelligent conversation about this major cultural achievement. That’s the most practical benefit. On top of that, Dream should also really love the franchise, getting caught up in the mythological elements of the sweeping epic. If he or she doesn’t want a light saber after watching Star Wars, I’ll be disappointed.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part VIII: Historical Ranting

Content: Robin Williams stand-up comedy, particularly Live at the Met

Introduction: After getting some crap from a longtime friend who remembers sitting in my parents’ den, listening to Live at the Met instead of doing a chemistry lab, I decided to add some material to Dream’s extensive introduction to stand-up comedy. (Happy, Mike?) When we were 15, nothing cracked us up more than Robin Williams. We were in tears listening to his rants. In theory, they’re similar to Chris Rock’s or Dennis Leary’s. But Rock and Leary base their scathing rhetoric in anger, in a sense of injustice and hypocrisy. Williams’ rants are less based than they are fueled. Fueled by knowing that he’s got something funny to say and he’s really excited about it. Fueled by an internal comedic energy that threatens to him apart if he doesn’t get it out fast. And of course, fueled by coke. (Williams was never as funny after he kicked the Peruvian marching powder.) He was visceral and hysterical and so referential that we could hardly keep up. He spoke in such a way that he gave the impression of someone speaking off the top of his head, and I think to a certain extent he was. Live at the Met was recorded in 1986, so by the time we listened to in 1995, it was already a decade old. But with Williams’ energy it felt like current events. By the time Dream listens to it, it will be ancient history, which excites me: a history lesson in the visceral and spontaneous comedic style of Robin Williams.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 15

Reason for That Age: I know I said that I would stop giving Dream media and content after age 14 because he or she wouldn’t want or need me leading the way to culture, but I like the idea of Dream discovering Williams at the same age that I did. Plus, for some of the historical references, he or she will need to be older than 14.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: I want Dream to shake with the same laughter my friends and I felt at that age when we listened to Live at the Met for the first time. I want Dream to feel the energy that Williams exudes on stage that makes his audience off balanced, not knowing what to expect next. Listening to this album, Dream should understand that part of comedy is the unexpected and that that is what makes riffing in comedy, when done well, so potent. And as a bonus, Dream will get a primer into the history of the 1980s.

Be content,
John

Great Scott, This is Heavy

Content: Back to the Future trilogy

Introduction: My parents got our first VCR when I was in 1st or 2nd grade. After some experimentation in recording sitcoms and cartoons, I started to record and catalogue just about every movie that came on network television. (We didn’t have cable yet.) When I noticed that a movie was coming up in prime time (usually past my bedtime), I’d set the VCR, watch it later, and then label and number the tape. I kept a catalogue. In retrospect, I don’t know the point of the exercise: Collect every movie ever made? Get up to #100 in my catalogue? Regardless, as a kid I liked projects and lists, so I started recording movies and cataloguing them. And that was how I discovered Back to the Future in the 2nd grade.

No movie inspired or captivated me more growing up than that copy of Back to the Future edited for NBC that I watched 27 times during the summer between 2nd and 3rd grades. I wanted to time travel. I wanted a flux capacitor. And above all else, I wanted a DeLorean. Nine years later, I considered forgoing my freshman year at Georgetown to fund the purchase of a used (obviously) DeLorean that a local car shop had on its front lot.

Most people think that only the first Back to the Future was worthwhile – that the second and third movies were odd or badly made – but I disagree. Each is different, but each is wonderful. The first is the best film. The second is a theoretically complicated and interesting time travel story. And the third is a western. I love them all, never failing to be sucked in for at least a little while when the trilogy is the Hangover Special on TBS. And I want Dream to love them too.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 10

Reason for That Age: I was first exposed to Back to the Future at age 8, but it was all NBCed up to remove references to vaginas, or something like that. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing too objectionable, but just in case I’ll bump it up a couple years for Dream. Plus, when the second and third movies came out in theaters, I was about 10. It’s a good age to become obsessed with a movie.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Oh, where to begin! I want Dream to love DeLoreans and Doc Brown and Marty McFly and Hill Valley, California. I want Dream to hate Biff Tannen and feel overwhelming pity for wimpy original timeline George McFly. I hope Dream starts to wonder about the 4th dimension and dream (hey – a pun!) that centuries are doors and decades windows. This movie sent my head spinning around what could be possible if we expanded how and when we travel. I hope the same thing happens to Dream.

Be content,
John

Turn of the Century Canada as Gender Neutral Literature

Content: Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Introduction: I can hear fathers of little boys across the southeast crying in disgust, “That’s a girl book! I’ll ruin my son reading about some crazing Canadian chick!” Ah, but I beg to disagree, my gender-role-enforcing friends. This story isn’t just for girls. I didn’t read it read this growing up, rather I discovered the PBS movie while sick in college. I enjoyed it so much that I went back and read the books. Anne of Green Gables is a wonderful, bucolic story about the importance of learning, imagination, and making family among people you care about. This is a great book (and movie) for Richard and Ella.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 9

Reason for That Age: Anne Shirley is 11 at the beginning of the story, which means her life will seem mature and large to a younger kid. Something daydream about. I think that reading about her life on Prince Edward Island will make 9-year old Dream want to spend more time outside in the woods, beaches and fields of New Hampshire’s seacoast. Any younger, though, and Dream won’t be old enough to really understand what he or she is reading.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Anne’s life is something to aspire to. She has a loving family that works to assemble itself. She reads and has an active imagination. She’s bright and enjoys school. Her life is full of caring friends. I would love for Dream – boy or girl – to gain an appreciation and inspiration for all those things

Be content,
John

Nobody Writes Stories Like This About Cats

Content: Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

Introduction: Where the Red Fern Grows is the incredibly touching story of a boy and his hunting dogs. One of the reasons I cried as hard I did when my dog died - which is as hard as I’ve cried over anything - was that I had a great deal of displaced dog-related emotion stemming from this novel. This book is arguably the most effecting story young adults read that stays with them through adulthood. I was working at a DC law firm shortly after college, and my coworkers and I started talking about the dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann. A mid-twentysomething guy walks in, hears those names, and says “Oh no, are you guys talking about Where the Red Fern Grows? I can’t be here for this. I’m gonna cry.”

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 10

Reason for That Age: I can’t describe how devastating it is for a reader to get to the end. I don’t think that I’m giving anything away by saying that the story’s beloved dogs don’t not die, if only because that knowledge removes none of the agony. A 10-year old is about the right balance between being emotionally capable of handling the sense of loss and young enough to be moved in a way unique to young children.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: After reading Where the Red Fern Grows, I want Dream to have an appreciation – woven into his or her genetic fabric – that reading can move you. That books are capable of producing an emotional reaction in you that you almost didn’t know you were capable of. For a lot of people, those emotions exist between book covers before they exist between people. I don’t want Dream to rely on books as a sort of emotional coming attraction, but I do want him or her to appreciate that well-written words can evoke incredibly powerful feelings.

Be content,
John

Dream’s Dreams of Real Life Adventures

Content: Hatchet by Gary Paulsen and My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George

Introduction: Hatchet and My Side of the Mountain were two of my favorite books around the fourth or fifth grade. Hatchet tells the story of a boy who survives a plane crash in the Canadian wilderness and has to survive on his own with only the titular cutting implement for protection. My Side of the Mountain, somewhat similarly, tells the story of a boy who runs away from his life in the city to survive in the woods with nothing but a flint and steel set and a pet falcon (seriously – a freaking falcon). These are great coming of age stories – recommended by none other than Gram Weaver (formerly Ma Weaver in my previous writings), a learned school librarian. Although they are likely more geared for boys than girls, I think Ella will enjoy them as much as Richard.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 10 or 11

Reason for That Age: I read My Side of the Mountain and then Hatchet when I was 10 or 11, and I think that is the proper order. Hatchet is scary: plane crash, tornado, animal attacks. This is not a book for really young kids, particularly since this is a realistic story with no fantasy elements. My Side of the Mountain, on the other hand, plays out more as a “Dick and Jane play Thoreau” story, with the parallel drawn fairly explicitly by one of the characters (although obviously, 10-year olds won’t get it). It comes across as a “fun” adventure, whereas Hatchet comes across as a “scary” adventure. But the style and syntax of both are clearly written for kids. So an older elementary schooler, one with a sense of adventure and who likes a little scare, is a good fit for these books.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: As is true with all of the reading material on this blog, I want Dream to gain an appreciation of the written word and reading. Regarding these books in particular, I want Dream to get a little taste of real adventure. Not Tolkien, Rowling, or Lewis adventure (although all of those are on this list too), but actual “This could be your life” adventure. After reading these books, I wanted to live in the woods and recast myself as a modern day Thoreau, even if I had no way of describing myself as such at the time. I hope the same inspiration seizes Dream.

Be content,
John

Baby’s First Poetry

Content: Robert Frost

Introduction: I love Robert Frost. He is not from New Hampshire, but he is of New Hampshire. Had he written in a 24-hour news world, he would be to the Granite State what Ben and Jerry are to the Green Mountain State. For example, his poem New Hampshire is a both a rambling rumination on frugal bucolic living and a parody of New Hampshire’s flinty reputation.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: Pre-natal

Reason for That Age: Alicia and I have made a big deal about reading to Dream right away. Basically, as soon as all the books said the baby could hear, we started reading to her stomach. And the first thing we read to Dream was The Last Word of a Bluebird by Frost. If Mozart and Beethoven are good in utero, I don’t see why Robert Frost isn’t as well.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: My expectations are pretty low. Let’s be honest, parents read to their kids pre-natally more for themselves than for their kids. Alicia and I are the same way. But I guess I’d like Dream – at some point, in the somewhat distant future – to read Frost’s poetry and connect to it in a way that he or she doesn’t understand, or even think to understand. It’ll be just another part of Dream’s subconscious.

Be content,
John

Literature Begins Where the Sidewalk Ends

Content: Shel Silverstein

Introduction: Few people actually realize the breadth of Shel Silverstein’s work. He’s primarily remembered for his children’s books like Where the Sidewalk Ends, The Giving Tree, and A Light in the Attic. But his cartoons appeared in Pacific Stars and Stripes while he was in the military, and Playboy published his cartoons for almost 20 years. Do you remember Johnny Cash’s A Boy Named Sue? Shel wrote it. And for those of you who love Newfoundland sea shanties – don’t laugh, I do – Shel also wrote the words that became Great Big Sea’s The Mermaid. So an introduction to Shel Silverstein is really an introduction to poetry, intelligent cartoons, country music, and Newfoundland sea shanties. The sooner the better.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 5

Reason for That Age: Some might introduce their kids to Silverstein at a younger age, and I have no problems with that. But I think that some of the poems are more appropriate for kids that have a little school experience. And the bittersweet story of The Giving Tree is actually a really sad story. Dream will have lots of questions about it – Why doesn’t the boy feel bad about the tree? Why doesn’t the tree do something about the boy? – and I want him or her to be old enough to appreciate my answer: “Shut up, I’m reading.” (Just kidding.)

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Ideally, Dream should find the poems silly and laughable. He or she should laugh at them and want me or Alicia to read them over and over again. After hearing The Giving Tree, I hope Dream will think about sacrifice and the people he or she cares about. I also want this to be one of Dream’s many early positive experiences with poetry.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part VII: Stand Up Comedy as Social Commentary

Content: Dennis Leary’s and Chris Rock’s stand up, particularly Leary’s No Cure for Cancer and Rock’s Bring the Pain

Introduction: A professor in college noted the role of oral historians and poets, like Homer and Samuel Johnson, in early civilizations as askers of difficult questions who brought attention to the weaknesses of their societies. He lamented their absence today and asked somewhat rhetorically, “Who do we have that serves that role?” I say “somewhat rhetorically” when it reality it was “almost entirely rhetorically,” as he completely ignored my answer that stand up comics do that today. It’s a shame he ignored this idea because I was right on. And it was albums like No Cure for Cancer and Bring the Pain that convinced me of this.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 14

Reason for That Age: I discovered No Cure for Cancer when I was around 14, and Leary’s critique of our culture’s hypocrisy surrounding drugs, smoking, and mental health connected with me. I loved the songs, the stand up, everything. Admittedly, the album has not aged as well as some of the other materials I’ve listed in this series, but Leary’s raw frustration remains palpable such that the album is still quite funny. I like to think that in order to maintain that level of rage throughout the album, Leary had to channel Bill Hicks’ outrage at Dennis Leary getting famous doing Bill Hicks’ routine.

Rock’s Bring the Pain didn’t air on HBO until 1996, well after my 14th birthday. But had it existed when I was 14, I would have listened it to until the laser of my stereo cut a groove in the CD. It would have been up there with Emo for me. His rants about white racism, black racism, and the self-indulgence of American wealth were scathing, hysterical and intelligent. Obviously, his observations about racism are the best known riffs from the routine, but his ridicule of Americans who take their wealth for granted are just as biting. For example: “People are starving all over the world, what do you mean ‘red meat will kill you’? Don’t eat no red meat? No, don’t eat no green meat… if you’re one of the chosen few people in the world lucky enough to get your hands on a steak, bite the shit out of it!” That still rings true today. At age 14, Dream is the perfect age to learn about the glorious contradiction of difficult social criticism and tear-inducing laughter.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: As with a lot of things, I want Dream to think. After he or she stops laughing and wipes the tears away, I want Dream to say “That’s a great point, I never thought of it that way. Maybe I should think more about that problem, and maybe I should find other comedians who make me think while laughing." That last bit is important. By the age of 14, Dream will be beyond the point of wanting me as a content guide. So I want Rock and Leary to point the way to Dream discovering thoughtful comedians on his or her own.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part VI: Emo Philips, the Most Important Adult I Never Met

Content: Emo Philips

Introduction: As a kid, no adult (but for the ones I knew personally) had a greater impact on me than Emo Philips. This likely says more about me than any Rorschach test ever could, but Emo changed my world when I was in middle school. He was ridiculous, surreal, clever, smart, and hysterical. His humor relied on incredibly witty wordplay, but it also made references to history and literature that bespoke a well-read mind. You had to be smart to get him. And he is a master surrealist. Consider this classic song line – “I was walking down the street / Something caught my eye / And dragged it 15 feet.” Brilliant. I can’t adequately express my love and adoration for Emo… a statement that led to some confused conversations in college when whiny pop rockers became popular. Nonetheless, I want Dream’s first exposure to Emo to be memorable. Special. I might take him or her out of school that day so we can share it together.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 13

Reason for That Age: I first encountered Emo when I was 14, but I think I could have handled him a year earlier, and it would have been just as meaningful. It’s a funny thing about teenagers. It’s something about their stage of development. Things they love at that point in their lives matter more than they should. Teenagers latch onto things at that age in a way they never will again. We all did it. For most guys, it ends up being sports. That’s why teenage guys take sports losses so hard. It’s also why teenage girls support successive generations of teeny-bopper musicians (e.g., Leif Garrett, Menudo, New Kids on the Block, N*Sync, Justin Bieber, Random 15-Year old Circa 2015, etc.). These things matter too much to us and leave a lasting – some might say scarring – impression. Dream will be most likely to appreciate Emo the way I do if introduced to him at this age.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Ideally, I want Dream to have the same adoration for Emo that I do. But that’s probably not healthy, for neither Dream in general nor my marriage in particular. When I expressed my idea to take Dream out of school to have a special Emo day, Alicia said “I’m going to go to bed to forget that you said that.” So perhaps a more realistic hope is that Dream listens to Emo and thinks he’s funny. I can live with that.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part V: Rigid, Fist Up, Atkinson

Content: Rowan Atkinson, particularly his one-man skits and Mr. Bean

Introduction: Atkinson is closer to Abbott and Costello than Cosby and Martin. He’s more of a solo performer than a stand up comic, which in some ways is a distinction of semantics. Although Atkinson is best known for Mr. Bean and Blackadder, I prefer his one-man work. His scenes involving the devil, private school fatal beatings, and the “Amazing Jesus” are spectacularly well written. He exemplifies a well-scripted comic, whether in a silent or spoken piece.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 12

Reason for That Age: Mr. Bean might work at a younger age. He’s daft and silly, with little objectionable material. Who doesn’t like some guy wearing a turkey on his head? But Atkinson works on a higher level. He is a smart, carefully planned performer. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be as physically awkward as Mr. Bean is on command? As someone who is almost socially dysfunctional in his awkwardness, I wish it could be turned on and off as easily as Atkinson makes it appear. His physical comedy is brilliant. Dream will find that funny earlier than 12, but I want him or her to really appreciate it, not just think it’s silly. On top of that, the monologues in Atkinson’s skits have some pretty clever word play that Dream will need to be out of elementary school to appreciate. For example, Dream will definitely need to be in middle school to appreciate the delightfully smutty language in “No One Called Jones.” (And as I’m reviewing this scene, 12 might be a year or two too young, but I’ll stick with it for now.)

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Strangely, this is the first lesson from Dream’s introduction to stand up comedy that doesn’t really have the potential for quotable catch phrases. Dream may pick up on some great lines (my personal favorite is “I wondered then as I wonder now if he might not have turned out to be a very different boy indeed if you had administered a few fatal beatings.”), but nothing that he or she will repeat like “Excuse me!” or “Riiiiight.” Rather, I’d like Dream to get a better understanding of physical comedy as well as exposure to some clever language that seems a lot dirtier than it actually is. But really – more than anything else – it’s important that Dream realize a universal truth of American comedy: British equals funny.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part IV – Wild and Crazy Comedy for a 10-Year Old

Content: Steve Martin’s stand up comedy, particularly the “Excuse Me” track from Let’s Get Small, “King Tut” from A Wild and Crazy Guy, and his “Great Fly-tini” bit from one of Johnny Carson’s last episodes.

Introduction: Steve Martin was a frenetic force pf surreal nature in the late 1970s. His albums missed the visual cues of his stand up, but the Johnny Carson appearance – which featured him doing cool tricks from the fly of his pants – makes up for some of that. He was so bizarrely clever. Kids, who have such weird little minds, should love it.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 10…

Reason for That Age: … but I reserve the same right of review that I set aside for Bill Cosby’s material. I remember Martin’s material as oddball and harmless. His stand up autobiography, Born Standing Up, reinforces this, waxing nostalgic about his time developing goofy and intentionally flawed magic tricks at Disney Land and Knott’s Berry Farm. And his routines are silly, but only to an adult audience. A ten-year old hearing the “Let’s Get Small” track might actually think there are drugs that turn you small, and maybe he or she should drop some acid to get small. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but I recall a movie explaining that “Kids know dick.” Anyway, some material is probably not great for ten- year olds. But King Tut will slay them, particularly when I find a Hulu clip of Martin’s Saturday Night Live rendition (or whatever internetish video implement is available in 10+ years). And “Excuse Me” will leave 10-year old Dream saying “Excuse me!” ad nauseum and laughing for days, while Alicia rolls her eyes and glares at me. This is going to be beautiful.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Three things. First, the adoption of “Excuse me!” as a personal catch phrase for at least a week, and the inevitable looks of exasperation from my beloved wife. Second, singing along with “King Tut.” Fantastic. And third, a nascent appreciation for the absurd. Steve Martin’s stand up should be the first in a long line of absurdist content – including Waiting for Godot, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, Andy Warhol, and Kafka – that Dream will come to love.

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part III – Cosby Is Funny… Right

Content: Bill Cosby’s Stand Up, particularly Himself and Bill Cosby is a Very Funny Fellow… Right!

Introduction: Bill Cosby’s Himself album was one of the first stand up recordings that I owned. It’s not brilliant satire or biting social critique, but it’s very funny. I still use elements of “Chocolate Cake for Breakfast” and “Natural Childbirth” in daily riffing.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 8…

Reason for That Age: …although after reviewing some of the material in the two albums above, I might have to rethink age 8, or at least select particular tracks to give to Dream. Some of the material an 8-year old would love. “Chocolate Cake for Breakfast” is great for kids of all ages. What child wouldn’t laugh at kids eating cake for breakfast and their dad getting in trouble for it? I don’t know how Dreamworks hasn’t turned that concept into an hour and a half 3-D animated movie yet. Additionally, the Noah bits from Bill Cosby is a Very Funny Fellow… Right! are iconic and great for any kid with a passing familiarity with that biblical story. However, “Natural Childbirth” is almost certainly too mature. As I wrote above – some selective editing is in order. But much of the material is perfect for an 8-year old.

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: I want Dream to be balled up in giggling fits listening to Cosby exclaim “My children TURNED on me!” I want him or her to repeat “Right…” over and over again trying to imitate Cosby’s intonation. I want Dream to repeat some of this material to his or her friends. Most importantly, I want Dream to be convinced that he or she is funny too, thinking “Cosby is funny just by talking and telling stories. I can talk and tell stories…”

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy Part II - “Who’s on First” as Baby’s First Stand Up

Content: Abbot and Costello’s “Who’s on First?” Routine

Introduction: This is not stand up comedy as we experience it today, i.e, one individual on stage, telling stories and making observations. However, Abbot and Costello’s classic vaudeville routine is a great introduction of spoken word comedic performances to kids.

Dream’s Age at Introduction: 7

Reason for That Age: The subject matter – baseball – is appropriate for almost every age. Plus, knowing my wife, Dream is going to be fully indoctrinated into the Red Sox LONG before the age of 7. The simple word play that is at the heart of the routine is easily understandable to kids, and all of the old recordings include crowds roaring with laughter, nudging little listeners in the right direction: “Laugh here. It’s funny now.”

What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Ideally, Dream should want to listen to this multiple times. That’s how I was with my favorite stand up routines. I listened to Emo dozens of times in middle school. But even if that doesn’t happen, I want Dream to be prepped for further lessons in stand up. And to be aware that whether s/he wants them or not, more stand up sessions are coming from Dad.

Be content,
John

Reformatting

I’ve been having a bit of a hard time finding time to write in this space. Something about its open-ended nature has caused me to write at great length and without form, making it intimidating to sit down and start an entry without at least an hour to really work. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I think I could benefit by an established format. Plus, years from now, I will enjoy this journal more if it has a clear structure.

So starting with my next posts (the ones about stand up comedy), the entries will be written following this guide:

Content: The title or subject of the media
Introduction: Why I love or care about the content
Dream’s Age at Introduction: Dream’s age at introduction (kinda self-explanatory)
Reason for That Age: Explanation of why Dream should experience the content at that age in his or her life
What I Want Dream to Get Out of It: Dad’s obnoxious life lesson, that will be drilled in my offspring like the bit from an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico (that is, with great determination but not necessarily the intended outcome).

Be content,
John

Introduction to Stand Up Comedy, Part I

The New York Times today had a review of Sarah Silverman’s new memoir, The Bedwetter. In the book, Silverman relates her experience growing up (in New Hampshire!) as a bedwetter and how her embarrassment contributed to her work as a comedian. Dave Itzkoff, the author of the Times piece, does a nice job of drawing out the connection between personal scars and effective stand up comedy. In describing Silverman, Itzkoff summarizes the formative experiences of some of the best comedians of the last fifty years: by taking ownership of their emotional baggage they become unafraid on stage. Among the comedians that fit this description are Jerry Lewis, Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Sam Kinnison, Bill Hicks d/b/a Dennis Leary, and Mitch Hedburg.

I love stand up comedy. My hero growing up was Emo Philips, who I continue to quote shamelessly (which, for my purposes, means without citation). At its best, stand up comedy makes us uncomfortable while making us laugh. It’s an art form, no less than oil painting, ballet, or jazz. However, because of its low-end practitioners – knock-knock joking hucksters sweating through bad suits in front of fake brick walls – stand up comedy frequently has a reputation somewhere between local television meteorologists and Kiwanis club guest speakers.

And to be fair, bad stand up comedians warrant that reputation. But good stand up comedians are clever, witty, and socially relevant. Emo Philips was able to merge word play with sly racial commentary: “We had a black out in my old neighborhood the other night. But the police made him get back into his car and go home.” Similarly, Mitch Hedburg – in a prescient and sad irony - combined clever one-liners with references to his drug use: “I love the FedEx guy because he’s my drug dealer and he doesn’t even know it.” And if pressed, I could come up with a hundred other examples: Steve Martin and King Tut, George Carlin and the Seven Words You Can’t Say on TV, Dennis Leary a/k/a Bill Hicks’ re-animated corpse and smoking, etc.

But when to introduce all this to Dream Weaver? It’s not like I can sit down 5-year old Dream with a DVD of Richard Pryor and say “This might be over your head now, but you’ll appreciate it when you’re thirty.”

However, this is important to me. I want our kid to appreciate the kind of laughter that comes from the biting observations and social discomfort of good stand up. My solution is to introduce Dream gradually to stand up, starting with clever, historically relevant stand up that – by today’s standards – is benign. It’s sort of like a sliding scale of age appropriate stand up comedy. Below is the list I’ve been working on:

Age Comedian

7 Abbott and Costello
8 Bill Cosby
10 Steve Martin
12 Rowan Atkinson
13 Emo Philips
14 Dennis Leary and Chris Rock

In upcoming posts, I’ll go through a quick analysis of each comedian. This excites me to a ridiculous extent. I’m actually a little embarrassed by it. If there’s a group of stand-up geeks, I would like to enlist. Call me.

Be content,
John

National Treasure and How American History Got Its Groove Back (Assuming American History Had Groove to Begin With)

I majored in history at Georgetown with a focus on American history. I love history in general, but particularly American history. History is the novelization of humanity, with the drama, irony, humor, and tragic flaws that have always defined great fiction. The characters have weaknesses and quirks, but they drive along a plot unpredictable but that has to be realistic because it’s real. Even better, all of the tawdry gossip that we can’t help but stare at and read about in the grocery checkout line is only a pale reflection of the weird crap people have done in history.

When history is taught well, the students come to know all of these things. When taught correctly, history is the equivalent of great films or moving literature. Unfortunately, more often than not, history is taught incorrectly, becoming the equivalent of memorizing multiplication tables: dates and numbers with little context.

American history has all this, but with two important characteristics. The first is brevity. History at large spans millennia. American history is a few centuries. It is possible to become intimately familiar with wide swaths of it in a way that is impossible with other histories. This makes it that more appealing and manageable.

The second characteristic is idealism, which I understand is somewhat controversial. The totality of American history reflects the totality of humanity’s inhumanity. It includes slavery, genocide, violence, bigotry, ignorance, apathy and every other awful behavior, big and small. But all history has that. To put it politely, much of the time we’re not nice to each other. That’s not just an American sin, that’s a human sin.

But few civilizations have tried as hard as America to do better. We’re not unique in that, certainly. The Greeks spent a lot of time thinking about better government. The Romans spread science and learning across Europe. The Chinese expended considerable resources to build a thriving meritocracy within their empire. But these and other examples were done either incidental to the goals of the civilization or for the sole benefit of the civilization. Americans have tried to make the world better for the sake of making it better. We have done so haltingly, inconsistently, and at times half-assedly, but we have tried.

Our history is the brief history of a flawed but well-intentioned people. Unfortunately, American history is all too frequently taught poorly, with not enough emphasis given to the colorful portions. For some inexplicable reason, I think National Treasure helps to fix some of this.

For those of you who have missed the joyful ignorance of National Treasure, it’s a film starring Nicholas Cage that works like a great hypothetical: What if American history were like the DaVinci Code? Cage’s character – brilliantly named Benjamin Franklin Gates (!) – and friends go on a quest through the Declaration of Independence and the founding fathers in search of a great treasure. What kind of treasure? Gold? Jewels? No! After a quest through American history, they get to a treasure trove of world history. It’s very meta. It’s very campy.

Seriously, it’s a great romp. My summary probably made no sense if you haven’t seen the movie, so you should see the movie. It has action, adventure, an obligatory love story, a wise-cracking side kick… all wrapped up in a story of American history. Granted, it’s fake American history, and I would hate for Dream Weaver or anyone to watch this movie and think that it has more than a tangential connection to real life. But it’s so hard to watch National Treasure and not think that American history is cooler than you did before it graced your consciousness.

Although I want my kids to appreciate American history from an early age, I don’t think I’d want them watching National Treasure any earlier than 10 years old. Maybe even later than that. Some of the situations are scary for young kids, particularly the scenes with guns and cave-ins. But I’d like to think that I can get Dream Weaver to age 10 without completely turning him/her off to American history. And at that point I can let National Treasure work its magic. I’ll just need to find something cool to follow it up so s/he gets the full flavor of real history.

Be content,
John

The Muppets – Making Legless Pratfalls Look Easy

Checking the status of Matt – erstwhile traveling companion and party to a “Best Man at Each Other’s Wedding” contractual agreement – on Facebook today, I noticed that he had changed his photo to the Swedish Chef. Matt and I share a mild obsession with the Muppets, as do many of our friends. Not only is there great nostaligic value, but the writing is sharp and clever.

We appreciate good writing. Puns, word play, witty repartee… we eat that stuff up. Anything we can quote. And when you have nothing but free time in college to hang out and watch well written movies – I’m looking at you, Godfather and Swingers – you get a lot of quotes.

But the Muppets have a strange pull. Not as inherently quotable as a Caddyshack, not as substantial as West Wing, they are hysterical and memorable for reasons unique among the content that I’m attracted to. As I stated above, the writing is great, filled with wonderful dialogue (“Bear right.” “Frog left.”), brilliant musical numbers, and laugh out loud slapstick comedy. But the players are essentially talking socks. That presents some challenges in terms of connecting with the audience.

For example, the Muppets depend greatly on physical comedy – Miss Piggy knocking people around, characters throwing their arms in the air and running away, dances to the music of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. But the physicality is a bit odd, if you think about it. Classic physical comedians – Charlie Chaplin, the Three Stooges, Daffy Duck, etc. – have an advantage over the Muppets: full bodies. The physics of a pratfall favor people with legs. But the Muppets nail the weird slapstick every time.

Growing up, this was actually a problem for my mom. One of her more ridiculous maternal proclamations was to forbid me from watching the Muppets when I was 5. She felt Miss Piggy was too violent. Mom – she’s a talking sock. I admit that little kids mimic some forms of violence, but as a parent you have to trust your ability to teach your kids the difference between media and life.

So ironically, I think 5 is just about the perfect age to experience the Muppets. The colorful characters and goofy appearances of Kermit and company catch their attention. The well executed, if strange, physical comedy will delight them and keep them tuned in while they absorb the cultural references and witty dialogue. I consider that the most important part of introducing the Muppets at this age: by exposing Dream Weaver to this level of writing while young, I hope that some of it will sink in. As s/he grows older, s/he will subconsciously look for writing of an equal caliber. The Muppets at this age is an investment in Dream Weaver’s content future.

It’s a future that I hope includes Dream Weaver and me watching some old Muppets episodes with Matt and his kids.

Be content,John

Fathers and Age Appropriate Content

Alicia and I met at the wedding of her cousin, Jenny, who also happens to be one of my oldest friends. Jenny asked me to pick a reading to give at the ceremony. I chose the Skin Horse’s bit on becoming real by being loved from the Velveteen Rabbit, and Alicia and I have been together ever since. I’m sure I’ll cover the Velveteen Rabbit in a later post.

Anyway, Jenny and I spoke tonight because Alicia and I just passed the first trimester, which means we no longer have to pretend that she gave up booze for lent and can tell people she’s pregnant. As Jenny and I talked about pregnancy and parenthood, I brought up this blog and how excited I am to introduce Dream Weaver to all the books, music, and movies that I love.

And although Jenny was excited for us, she gave me some words of caution: “It’s really disappointing when your kids don’t love what you love.” She gave the example of her dad, who loves The Lord of the Rings, but who tried to indoctrinate his kids too young. Turns out 7-year-old girls don’t dig violent stories of elven armies and epic evil. Good to know.

Her cautionary tale reminded me of my father, who loved the Hardy Boys growing up. I can only imagine that as he watched me in my crib, he envisioned sharing the exciting boy detective stories he loved so much as a boy.

As a good and dedicated parent, he read to me every night, and it probably seemed like a natural progression from The Little Engine that Could (the original self-improvement book) to The Tower Treasure. But he made the transition when I four. I still needed pictures to follow a story. Quite frankly, I still do. So when Dad tried to shift me from Clifford barking at neighbors to Frank throwing his keys at an assassin, I wasn’t ready to go along for the ride. Instead, Dad had to wait till I was 10, when I rediscovered the titles with my friend Mike and read them myself.

Strangely, the media that I really absorbed from Dad at the age of four was a TV show that – had he really thought it out – he almost certainly didn’t want me to absorb. That show? Taxi, which featured the dirty Danny DeVito, the burnt out Christopher Lloyd, and the brilliant Andy Kaufman. Taxi, which split my sides with jokes about sexual harassment in the workplace, drug use, and the unrealized dreams of washed up New Yorkers. Taxi, which broadcast an episode in which Lloyd’s drug-addled Reverend Jim realized a cookie’s secret ingredient was cocaine and then provided this analysis: “Probably from Columbia… the southwest region… grown during the rainy season… by a farmer named Paco.”

Ok, that quote isn’t verbatim. But I bet it’s pretty close, and I’ve remembered the general gist of it for well over 20 years. I’ve often wondered why Taxi has stuck with me for so long. True, it was a goofy and well-scripted show. But I don’t think I fully realized that at age 4. Rather, I think it was the ritual of watching the show. Every night, shortly after dinner, Dad chimed out “Here’s Taxi!” in a sing-songy voice, and we’d sit on the couch together. Frequently, mom joined us. I didn’t necessarily get everything, but what I didn’t understand I learned by watching them.

This underscores two points for me. First, when I share content with Dream Weaver, it has to be a shared experience. We have to read the book together, sing the song with each other, and sit on the couch with one another during the movie. But this only gets you so far, which is where the second point comes in. I’ve got to make sure Dream Weaver is ready for whatever I’m presenting. Otherwise, s/he’ll get Lord of the Rings and the Hardy Boys and learn to love none of it.

By the way, I stopped reading the Hardy Boys in sixth grade, when I found The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.

Be content,
John

When to Get Biblical with My Kids

The Gospel reading at mass today included the “Doubting Thomas” story that has become part of the western vernacular. This got me thinking about how prominently the language of the Bible, for better or worse, appears in every day language. From Lincoln’s “House Divided” speech to common phrases like “nothing new under the sun,” the Christian Bible is everywhere.

Some background: Alicia and I are Catholic. I frequently feel guilty about both my disagreements with Catholic dogma and my inability to measure up to the standards of Catholic dogma. However, I interpret all feelings of guilt regarding my Catholicism as signs that I’m doing it right.

Further background: Thomas’ name was Didymus, meaning that he was Didy before Sean Combs was Diddy. So he’s got that going for him. Which is nice.

And one more bit of background: I’ve always thought that Thomas gets a bad rap. Jesus got annoyed with him for wanting to see proof of the resurrection, proof that the other apostles already received and likely would have requested just like Thomas. Even if they weren’t likely to ask for an affidavit, we don’t know that Thomas wasn’t more naturally prone to data- and fact-based requests. Maybe he was the Disciples’ accountant, asking for the receipt from the Last Supper to keep track of business expenditures. But instead of saying “Thanks for staying on top of the bills,” Jesus makes him the whipping boy for western civilization’s fragile faith.

Which makes me wonder when these concepts should be introduced to kids. We’ll bring up Dream Weaver and any sequels in a progressive, church going family, which means they’ll all receive child-friendly stories of Noah, Adam and Eve, and the other basic Bible stories. But I don’t want my kids to simply digest what biblical morsels they receive from a priest, a CCD class, or me. At one point or another, it would be nice for them to review the original text – or as original a text can be that is in English only after the British translated a Latin translation of a Greek text that has been edited by church officials and copied with mistakes by silent monks.

I think maybe late elementary school or early middle school is a good time to start introducing them to portions of the Bible. Some chapter and verse they don’t need, certainly not at that age (I’m looking at you, Tobit). But I want them to read the basis for many of their childhood stories and to be familiar with the source material of so many images in the English language.

God knows my kids will hear plenty about what the Bible says. But I would like them to be able to think about what is actually written in it. And I would like them to doubt when appropriate.

Be content,
John

The Eleventh Commandment - Try to Keep the Content Relevant

Saturday I watched ABC’s great Easter tradition, the broadcast of The Ten Commandments, and couldn’t help but think of how dated this movie has become. The Nile either looks preposterous, blown up on a blue screen behind Charlton Heston and Yul Brynner, or cheap, a man-made pool populated by plastic plants. The epic dialogue is stilted and stale, and the actors sound like they’re practicing their lines alone in front of the bathroom mirror. And as a network broadcast, it lasts nearly five hours long. If US Air played The Ten Commandments on the flight from New York to San Francisco, the pilot’s pre-landing instructions would cut off the eponymous note-taking scene on Mount Sinai.

But this is one of the most financially successful movies of all time. Adjusted for inflation, it’s the fifth highest grossing film of all time, have grossed almost a billion dollars in 2010 dollars. And it first premiered when my dad was about 12, which would explain why he almost always watches it this time of year. In their early teens, kids latch onto media and do so disproportionately to its actual worth. This explains why I view Meatloaf (the singer, not the lunch special), Zelda (the video game, not the novelist’s wife), and Emo (the comedian, not the whiny music) as important contributions to western civilization on par with the Mona Lisa and Shakespeare.

Which leads me to wonder – as I plan out the content to introduce to Dream Weaver, how much of it will enrich his/her life and how much of it will look ridiculous, like a former NRA president quoting the Bible in front of a blue screen? TV shows, movies, music and books that move me might come off as anachronistic tedium to my kid. And I might not be able to distinguish between the two until I see his/her eyes rolling back into his/her head.

J.D. Salinger’s recent death brought this issue up for a number of educators who wrote about how Catcher in the Rye affected and inspired them. Many noted sadly that the book no longer appeals to their students the way it did to them. Holden Caufield’s distaste for phonies is alien to teenagers’ lexicon; his ambivalence toward prep school cliques doesn’t ring true to a generation interconnected 24 hours a day through texts and Facebook.

Personally, Catcher in the Rye never did it for me. But The Princess Bride did. Its combination of humor, adventure, and camp is planted in me, and blooms every time I see it on USA. I’ve read the book. I quote it with friends. But one of those friends said something horrifying to me a couple years ago: “It looks cheap. It hasn’t aged well.” I was appalled. He might as well have said that Holly, my beloved childhood dog, deserved to die.

But he’s right. I watched it again not long ago, and its special effects look like someone stole some of Jim Henson’ high school art projects. And, quite frankly, I hated myself a little bit for agreeing with that guy.

That doesn’t mean I won’t show it too my kids. I bet Jim Henson’s high school projects look pretty cool to elementary schoolers. But how many of my favorite childhood memories will make Alicia explain to our kid (not without reason), “This probably seemed a lot neater when daddy was your age.” Like The Ten Commandments to a 12-year old in 1957. Ouch.
Be content,
John

Content Based Day Dreams of My Children

When my wife, Alicia, and I discovered that she was pregnant with our first child, we were both overwhelmed with a lot of emotions: joy, nervousness, nausea (more her than me), excitement, and a host of others that the written word is ill-equipped to convey. In other words, we were your typical first time parents.

Through this shifting field of feelings, I kept coming back to daydreams of mundane activities with Dream Weaver, the obnoxious pun on our last name that we have chosen as our child’s in utero nickname. Watching movies. Reading books. Listening to music. I am ecstatic to share my favorite stories, rhymes and harmonies with this little person, less than three months old, renting a condo in wife’s belly.

And I won’t know exactly what to share with him/her until s/he comes out. Alicia and I won’t know what we’re getting until we’ve got it. We thought about finding out, but I was outvoted 1-1. So as I daydream, I end up distinguishing a little bit between what I would share with little Juanita and what I would share with John Jr.

(And unfortunately, I’ve got to cut that joke short. Alicia and I spent a number of enjoyable hours WAY before she was pregnant picking out names: Ella Marie and Richard William. If I keep calling this kid something else, I’m gonna get all sorts of confused.)

I can share Where the Red Fern Grows with any child, but Sixteen Candles will have a greater impact on Ella, and Animal House is more of a right of passage for boys like Richard William. But the gulf of ages and maturity between Where the Red Fern Grows and Animal House demonstrates another aspect I’ve been considering – what content to expose my kids to at what ages.

I get really worked up about this. In High Fidelity John Cusack waxed poetic on what brings people together. “It’s not what you’re like, it’s what you like.” I already love this kid, but I want to hang out with it too. I want to wake up on a Saturday morning, see that the Hangover Special on TBS is an 8-hour marathon of Adam Sandler movies and know that Alicia, the kid and I can watch these movies while doing chores and errands.

So this space is going to be my notebook for TV shows, movies, books, poems, music, etc. to introduce to Dream Weaver, as well as a timeline for doing so. Ideally, by Alicia’s due date (October 29th) I will have an outline of content and media to share with Dream Weaver over the first 16 to 18 years of his or her life.

If anyone reading this has had similar thoughts or is also excited about exposing their children (unborn or otherwise) to art, culture, dick and fart jokes, wit, and beauty, please add your thoughts. I would love to get as much input as possible.

Be content,
John