Matthew Dicks

My very first library book: Desperately seeking the title

When I was a child, there were very few books in our home, and almost no children’s books whatsoever, so when I was finally able to ride my bike to the public library and receive my first library card when I was ten, it was an important day for me.

I remember that first visit to the library like it was yesterday. My hometown library was little more than a single, poorly lit room in the lower level of the town hall, and while it contained more books than I had ever seen, it only consisted of about half a dozen aisles of books.

Today, the library occupies the building that was once my middle school. It is enormous, modern, multileveled and bright. I did a reading there a few years ago when my first book was published, and while it is vastly superior to the library that I had growing up, I still love the thought of that small, dimly lit room that opened the world of literature to me.

I still remember the first book that I checked out of the library, but I cannot remember the title, and for years, I have been trying to find it.  It was a pre-dystopian science fiction story in which the tallest buildings in the world begin to liquefy, starting with the Sears Tower in Chicago, the tallest building at the time. The very tip of the building first begins to liquefy, and as the height of Sears Tower comes even with the second tallest building in the world, that building begins to liquefy as well.

Eventually all the buildings of the word begin to liquefy at exactly the same rate, throwing the planet into terror and chaos.

Ultimately, it is discovered that this is the work of an alien race that feels obliged to ensure that mankind does not advance technologically beyond a point that is considered safe. By keeping building no taller than six stories, the aliens believe that the technological advancement of the human race will be curtailed. Ultimately, every building of the world is liquefied to this point.

Thirty years have passed since I read that book. While I’m sure that it is out of print and nearly impossible to find, I would at least like to know what the title of that first library book was.

If you happen to know the title, could you let me know?

And if you know a librarian or someone who might know, would you mind inquiring for me?

I would be forever grateful.

I finally read WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. Sort of.

Having grown up with almost no children’s books in the home, it has been an unexpected joy to read these classics for the first time with my daughter. I would not recommend depriving your child of books, but as a father, it has made for more interesting bedtime reading.

One of the books that I had yet to read was Maurice Sendak’s WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. I watched the film adaptation of the book last year but had yet to read the actual book.

At the time, I postulated that I might be one of the only people in the world to have seen the film version without having ever read the book.

The book is actually sitting on my daughter’s bookshelf, just waiting to be brought into circulation. My hope was that I could experience this classic for the first time with Clara, but I’m afraid I cheated this morning.

I discovered this video of Christopher Walken reading the book and couldn’t resist.

I do not regret my decision. It’s fantastic.  

Gratitude journal: Readers live-tweeting my book

Tonight I am thankful for the enthusiastic readers who have been engaging in a new form of live tweeting whereby they send me tweets as they make their way through my latest book, MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND.

My first two books, SOMETHING MISSING and UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, were published during Twitter’s infancy, so I had decidedly less contact with readers via social media. Back then (just two and four years ago), email was the primary way that readers contacted me, and a few even wrote letters longhand. But today, I am only a tweet away, and readers are taking advantage it.

This afternoon, readers in the UK and Australia tweeted about their experience with novel thus far, sharing their thoughts and feelings about the book at that very moment with me. One reader told me that she was experiencing an overwhelming sense of dread over what might happen next in the story (she was about halfway finished), and the other was nearing the end of the book and was “terrified” by the potential outcome.

She actually stopped reading in order to drink some coffee and calm down before finishing. 

I’m hoping it was decaf.

The enthusiasm and excitement of these readers and their willingness to engage me in their reading process humbles me. I am so very grateful for their efforts to reach out and allow me to join them on their journey through my story.

It is a brave new world in which readers and authors can so easily comingle, and I like it a lot.

Gratitude journal: Dr. Seuss

Tonight I am grateful to Dr. Seuss for bringing this extreme level of joy to my daughter.

Frankly, I think the book is kind of stupid, but Clara loves it (and on Dr. Seuss’ birthday no less), so the man was clearly onto something.

Mindy Kaling’s 13 Rules for Guys

Elysha and I are listening to Mindy Kaling’s IS EVERYONE HANGING OUT WITHOUT ME and enjoying it a lot.

Recently we listened to the chapter that lists and explains Kaling’s 13 Rules for Guys.

I liked the list immediately because of its number.  Thirteen. Not ten. Not a dozen. Not twenty. The decidedly un-round number thirteen.  I never trust a list that contains a round number of items. It’s too damn convenient. It probably means that one or two quality items were left off the list or one or two less-than-worthy items were added to the list to achieve the round number. 

Thirteen is a great list number. Ten is the worst.

As for Kaling’s recommendations, I currently adhere to or would be willing to adopt to most but have serious objections to a few.

For the record, Elysha supports every item on the list without reservation. She and Mindy Kaling could easily be best friends.

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1. Buy a well-fitting pea coat from J. Crew (and get it cleaned once a year).

I could do this. I kind of like a pea coat.

2. Have a signature drink.

Does Diet Coke count?

Actually, if I’m drinking a cocktail, I like a kamikaze a lot, but this sounds like a drink for someone celebrating their twenty-first birthday. Almost never drinking alcohol makes this a tough rule to follow.

3. Own several pairs of dark-wash straight-leg jeans.

I used to know several pairs of these jeans, and then I took six inches off my waist, so I have been slowly restocking my wardrobe. Emphasis on slowly. I currently own two pairs, though only one pair is actually my size.

4. Wait until all women have gotten on or off an elevator before you get on or off.

I follow this rule unless it makes things exceedingly awkward.

5. When you think a girl looks pretty, say it and make it about her (i.e., “You look so sexy in those boots,” not “Those boots are really cool.”)

I think I do this as well, though I rarely compliment the physical appearance of anyone except my wife. This is partly because I think my wife is prettier than everyone else and partly because I am not a very visual person and fail to notice appearance. I also refrain from commenting on a student’s physical appearance, and this policy tends to bleed into the rest of my life as well.

6. Avoid asking if someone needs help in a kitchen or at a party–just start helping.

I am often the first person at the sink, ready to clean the dishes. While I’d like people to think that this is an act of kindness and politeness, it is probably the result of my years of working in a restaurant and my need to clean as I go.

7. Have one great cologne that’s not from the drugstore.

Really? I smell fine already.

8. Your girlfriend’s sibling or parents might be totally nuts, but always defend them.

Elysha feels that I do an adequate job in this regard. I was not as convinced. I tend to come down on the side of logic and reason rather than loyalty or obligation, but I’ll take her word for it.

9. Keihl’s for your skin, Bumble and Bumble for your hair.

Apparently Elysha gave me a bottle of Keihl’s when we started dating. I have no recollection of this. Nor do I think I need this product. Or any product.

I don’t even use shaving cream. Old fashioned soap works just fine.

I have no idea what Bumble and Bumble is, but I have not put anything in my hair other than shampoo for more than a decade. I don’t think I need to start now.

10. Guys only need two pairs of shoes: a nice pair of black shoes and a pair of Chuck Taylors.

I own two nice pairs of black shoes but no Chuck Taylors. I didn’t even know what a Chuck Taylor was. I own sneakers, which I wear almost every day to work simply because of the nature of my job, but I can’t see myself wearing these things.

They don’t seem to have any support and look like they would last about four seconds before falling apart. When I was a teenager, I owned an actual pair of Converse sneakers that looked a lot like these, so why would I want to start wearing a sneaker that is an imitation of something I actually wore as a kid?

11. Bring wine or chocolate to everything.

I’m more than willing to begin doing this, but wouldn’t it begin to seem a little like pandering after a while?

12. Get a little jealous now and again, even if you’re not strictly a jealous guy.

I don’t understand the purpose of this.

13. Don’t shave your chest hair.

The vanity required in order to do something like this is beyond me.

I know she’s not actually reading…

… but it’s still freakin’ cute!

Gratitude journal: My daughter’s illiteracy

Eventually I would like my three-year old daughter to become a more than proficient reader, but tonight I found myself exceedingly grateful that she could not read a single word from the two books that she chose for us to read before bed.

The Little Golden Book versions of Lady and the Tramp and Noah’s Ark have an enormous number of words. Far too many for a little girl who was already twenty minutes late for bed. But we had no idea about the word counts when we agreed to read them. This was the first time that Clara had chosen them from her bookshelf. We assumed that these Little Golden Books would live up to their name.

They did not.   

So when she insisted upon the books, my wife simply invented a story that contained considerably fewer words but still matched the pictures on each page.  

Had Clara been able to read, this would not have been possible.

So hooray for my daughter’s illiteracy. I won’t be able to say this often, but tonight, I was happy that she is still unable to read. 

A potentially great day ruined by you-know-what

Today was a potentially great day for me.  

To start, Cosmopolitan UK named my next book, MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND, #1 on their Best Books for February 2012 list  and offered a glowing review.

The cover of the book also appeared publicly for the first time, and it’s one that I love. In fact, I have seen a sneak peek of the US cover as well and am blessed with a bounty of great art for both sides of the pond.

   

The actual UK cover will feature a quote from the very generous, internationally bestselling author Jodi Picoult.  Ms. Picoult offered me the best blurb of my life in regards to the book.  It reads:

A novel as creative, brave, and pitch-perfectas its narrator, an imaginary friend named Budo, who reminds us that bravery comes in the most unlikely forms. It has been a long time since I read a book that has captured me so completely, and has wowed me with its unique vision. You've never read a book like this before. As Budo himself might say: Believe me.

A pretty good start to the day. Right?

During the school day, I managed to earn my students’ respect in a realm rarely achieved by an elementary school teacher:

Music 

A truly outstanding a cappella group performed at our school this afternoon, singing a number of Motown hits by Michael Jackson, KC and the Sunshine Band and others. The kids loved this music, which I thought was odd since they normally make fun of me for liking “old music” like The Beatles, Van Morrison and Springsteen. 

When I questioned them about this after the performance, they explained that Michael Jackson, The Who, Neil Diamond and others are not considered old in their minds (a few admitted that The Beatles were probably acceptable as well).  When I showed them that I have 38 Michael Jackson songs on my phone, they gained an immediate, albeit grudging, respect for my taste in music. 

I went on to show them the 67 Neil Diamond songs, the three full albums by The Who, and the handful of songs by new artists like Katy Perry, Maroon 5 and Lady Gaga that currently reside on my phone. 

They left school feeling like I possessed a modicum of coolness, which in the land of ten-year olds is quite an achievement for any adult. 

At dinner, I told my daughter that I loved her, and with a piece of bread still stuffed in her mouth, she said, “I love you so much, too, Daddy.”

Clara has said that she loves me many times before, but something about her earnestness and sincerity nearly brought me to tears.

It was as if she really understood what the words meant for the first time.   

Later, I felt our baby kick inside my wife’s belly for the first time.  Actually, I felt it kick several times. It was jumping around so much that it nearly made Elysha sick.

I still remember the first time I felt Clara kick, and this was just as exciting. 

An unforgettable moment, both then and now.

But the Patriots lost the Super Bowl on Sunday night, and in horrific fashion, so all this good news was wasted on me.  There was no way in hell that I was going to feel at all good just 24 hours after a loss like that, regardless of what happened during the day.

Nice try, universe, but I don’t think so. 

Untrustworthy narrator

On Wednesday my daughter will turn three years old. 

Ever since the we discovered that my wife was pregnant (May 14, 2008), I have written a daily blog to our daughter entitled Greetings Little One.  It contains stories, observations, bits of wisdom, photos, videos and the like.  A thorough recounting of the thoughts, feelings and events of the day for Clara to read when she is older.

I started writing the blog for her, but in truth, Elysha and I have enjoyed it a great deal. To be able to go back to a specific time in our daughter’s life and read about what we were doing on those days has been an unexpected blessing.

In terms of parenting, starting the blog was one one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.    

Writing it has also helped me to savor every day that I spend with Clara.  Parents often say that their kids grow up so fast.  I have not found this to be the case.  I suspect that because I sit down and recount the events of every day of Clara’s life in some small way, time has not been quite so slippery for me.

In thinking about Clara’s upcoming birthday, I’ve been reading some of the posts that led up to her birth three years ago and have been enjoying the opportunity to reminisce immensely. 

During this week, I am going to publish a few of those posts from Greetings Little One here. I hope you enjoy. 

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Originally posted on January 11, 2009:

… Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey and Stinky

Speaking of reading to you, I should also mention, little one, that I can be somewhat unorthodox when reading to kids. I have a habit of diverting away from the words on the page and inventing my own stories up on the spot while pretending to read.

Improving upon the book, if you will.

A few years ago, I was reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to my students. Bored with the story that I knew so well, I decided to add a new child to the book, joining the ranks of Charlie Bucket, Violet Beauregard, Mike Teavee, Varuca Salt, and Augustus Gloop. Staring at the pages and turning them now and again, I invented entire passages about a bratty little child and his outlandish exploits. I cannot remember the specifics of this new, sixth child, but many students raised their hands with questions about why they had never seen or heard of this new character in the movie version of the novel.

Books and movies always differ in some way, I explained.

Surprisingly, my instincts about adding a new character weren’t so far off. Roald Dahl’s original manuscript included a sixth child.

From Wikipedia:

In 2005, a short chapter which had been removed during the editing of the book circulated, entitled "Spotty Powder", was published. The chapter featured the elimination of Miranda Piker, a "teacher's pet" with a headmaster father. Wonka introduces the group to a new candy that will make children temporarily appear sick so that they can miss school that day, which enrages Miranda and her father. They vow to stop the candy from being made, and storm into the secret room where it is made. Two screams are heard, and Wonka agrees with the distraught Mrs. Piker that they were surely ground into Spotty Powder, and were indeed needed all along for the recipe, as "We’ve got to use one or two schoolmasters occasionally or it wouldn’t work." He then reassures Mrs. Piker that he was joking. Mrs. Piker is escorted to the boiler room by the Oompa-Loompas, who sing a short song about how delicious Miranda's classmates will find her.

So beware, little one. You may end up in class some day, wondering why the teacher’s version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs doesn’t include Stinky, the oft-forgotten eighth dwarf who was actually responsible for saving Snow White but ignored by the press because of his unusual body odor.

A Charlie Brown Christmas, again and again and again

When my wife’s parents bought this book and recorded themselves reading it (which is a clever idea), the intent was for my daughter to be able to open the book and listen to it read aloud without the assistance of another adult.

This was not to be. 

For reasons known only to her, Clara has determined that the book cannot be read alone.  Someone must “read” it to her, which means my wife or I must sit beside her and turn the pages at the appropriate time, even though she is perfectly capable of turning the pages herself.

Talk about the best laid plans of mice and men. 

Still, she can be pretty cute while listening to the book. She finds the last page, in which her Nani inserts her name into the story, especially funny. It almost always makes her laugh. Then she asks if we can hear the Peanuts singing (for reasons unknown) right before requesting that we “read” it to her again.

And again.  And again.