Photo by Annelies Geneyn on Unsplash
Previous Reading Lists: 2017 | 2018 | 2019
I didn’t read quite as much as I would have liked to in 2020, and I will blame, in order:
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Covid
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My daughter becoming a toddler
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Less time in the car, therefore less Audible opportunities
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Covid
All the same, I’m as excited as an eighth grade teacher’s pet to bring you thoughts on the books I consumed in 2020.
As I wrote in last year’s list, I define a book as “impactful” if it caused me to think or act differently.
If you are interested in purchasing any of these books for Christmas gifts or to add to your 2021 reading list, I’ve included hyperlinks to each – what incredible service!
“Why We Sleep” – Matthew Walker
I picked this one up after reading Bill Gates’s book recommendations last year. This book is a bit dense and scientific, but I was hooked from the first three minutes. The research of sleep’s benefits on our mental and emotional health, memory, and creativity is absolutely fascinating. If this book causes you to doze off, that may not be the worst thing.
“The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry” – John Mark Comer
This is a book I picked up on Audible and read during bike rides. It clocks in at just under five hours and is an extremely simple read. This is an essential read for those of you who, like me, are pursuing a life of faith; Comer’s thesis is that, as his mentor Dallas Willard told him, hurry is the great enemy of spirituality. The pandemic quarantine provided me the perfect backdrop to let this lesson begin to sink in and pursue deeper presence with my family.
“How Women Rise” – Sally Helgesen
This book wasn’t written for me. In fact, it’s a response to Marshall Goldsmith’s “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There,” a book about habits successful leaders need to drop to continue their career rise. Goldsmith found out that most of the habits in his book actually don’t apply to women. For example, Goldsmith argues that in order to continue your successful rise, you need to stop taking credit and start giving credit to your team. Helgesen finds that, in general, women have the opposite challenge. A fascinating read I’d recommend to anyone interested in a bit of career introspection.
“Good to Great” – Jim Collins
This book caused me to think deeply about what great leadership looks like and gave me a macro view of how companies stay great, something my company is embattled in currently. Though written in the 1990s, this book is super relevant today.
“Just Mercy” – Brian Stevenson
I wrote about this book after George Floyd was murdered so I won’t go into too much depth here. If you are interested in racial reconciliation work, check out Brian Stevenson’s Equal Justice Initiative. Support them, set your Amazon Smile donations to them, or just read this book and learn.
“An American Marriage” – Tayari Jones
One of the few books of fiction I read this year, this book is about a Black couple whose marriage is torn apart when the husband is accused of a murder he did not commit. It reads quickly and is written creatively, with one particularly lengthy section of letters back and forth advancing the narrative.
“The Warmth of Other Suns” – Isabelle Wilkerson
If I was an actual literary critic I might use the word “triumphant” to describe this work. Wilkerson interviewed thousands of black citizens who were part of the Great Migration from the South to the North and West from 1915-1970. This is one of the important untold stories you probably didn’t learn much about in high school.
“The New Jim Crow” – Michelle Alexander
This is one of the best books I’ve ever read, focusing on the proliferation of mass incarceration over the past several decades. In case you’re concerned about reading leftist propaganda, rest assured that Alexander doesn’t pull any punches for our past leaders on both sides of the aisle. The companion Netflix documentary Thirteenth is also very interesting and worth a watch.
“Good Leaders Ask Great Questions” – John Maxwell
I’ve become convinced that the quality of our questions is one of the major factors in our collective success as companies, families, and as a society. My biggest takeaway from this book: find yourself mentors, leaders, and advocates that you give permission to ask you challenging questions.
“Maid” – Stephanie Land
The true story of a single mom’s journey cleaning houses and experiencing the welfare system. This one was on Obama’s recommendation list. Another fast-paced intriguing look at the life many people lead in our country.
“The Total Money Makeover” – Dave Ramsey
My wife Kendahl and I finally became debt-free in 2020, a goal we’d set for ourselves years ago. To many, Dave Ramsey’s financial plan will sound absolutely crazy, but to us, it has been a tangible, inspiring path. If you need help with a budget or want to know more about getting out of debt, saving for retirement, or building an emergency fund, this book is for you. All of that said, I have to ask: can a guy write a book nowadays without slapping his headshot on the cover?!
Solid Books That I Learned Something From:
“Everything is F*cked” – Mark Manson
“Unlocking Leadership Mindtraps” – Jennifer Garvey
“Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria” – Beverly Daniel Tatum
“The Infinite Game” – Simon Sinek
Entertaining Guilty Pleasures:
“Pillars of the Earth” – Ken Follett
Books I Didn’t Particularly Love or Didn’t Finish:
“Dangerous Prayers” – Craig Groeschel
“Gift of Struggle” – Bobby Herrera
On My List for 2021
“Chronicles of Narnia” – C.S. Lewis
“Lord of the Rings” – J.R.R. Tolkien
“Give People Money” – Annie Lowrey
“Educated” – Tara Westover
“Deep Work” and “Digital Minimalism” – Cal Newport
“Inner Voice of Love” – Henri Nouwen
“Mindset” – Carol Dweck
“Retire Inspired” – Chris Hogan
1. Start by Flipping the Pieces Over.
This is the “busy work” of puzzle-solving. You’ll feel really accomplished and you can let your mind wander to more important things, like “When was the last time I went to McDonald’s?”
2. Do the Edges First.
Your puzzle may contain animals; that doesn’t mean you have to act like one.
3. Allow Yourself to be Temporarily Disoriented.
There will come a moment, likely two or three, where you are absolutely certain there is a piece missing. You’ll believe the box intentionally came without this essential piece and will begin thinking about the Amazon return process. You will throw up your arms in devastation multiple times. You’ll stare at the vast colorful milieu in front of you for minutes on end; pieces will follow you while you sleep at night. Practice phrases like, “We have been scammed,” and “I can guarantee you this piece is missing.”
4. When Re-Oriented, Act Like You’re the King of the World.
Do not be dismayed; your confusion will not last forever. In a stroke of genius, you will find the missing piece, put it in place, and it will be one of the greatest feelings you’ve ever had in your magnificent life. Forget about all the drastic promises you previously made to destroy and/or return the puzzle. YOU found the piece! You FOUND it! All you do is win.
5. Celebrate Responsibly.
Here’s how celebrations should work: Once you put a crucial piece in place, take your pointer finger and tap it squarely in the center of the piece, as if trying to locate the piece’s equator within half a degree. You need the people you are with to know that you have just completed a piece; otherwise, what, only you would know?! Sounds boring. Feel free to grunt a bit or offer a small fist pump as well. Note: do not grunt and perform a fist bump; no one likes an arrogant jerk.
6. Talk to Yourself Out Loud.
Use your vocal cords to narrate your puzzle-building experience. Even if you are alone in your living room, there is nothing weird about loudly stating, “This piece should not be that difficult to find.” It will grease the wheels and allow you to find the piece faster, and it will make you feel less alone. This will also have the side effect of making you sound like my dad.
7. Let your Ego take a Small Hit.
Similar to the temporary disorientation you will experience as described above in Essential Rule #3, your ego will need to be checked along the way. You will look for a specific piece for what will feel like three hours. It’s dark blue with a big white spot – it should not be that difficult to find! Then, your companion will casually stroll up to the table, spend roughly twelve seconds passively scanning, and quickly find it. Ride it out and remember that you are still the most special.
8. The Puzzle is In Charge, Not You.
Let us continue with this example. Let’s say you have been spending hours working on that one piece, the dark-blue-big-white-spot piece. In the midst of the hunt, you will find two or three other pieces without even trying. That’s because, as this rule states, the puzzle is in charge. Go where the puzzle desires. The puzzle doesn’t want you to find that dark-blue-big-white-spot piece yet. This is all a subtle reminder that there is little you actually control in life; you’re just here for the ride.
9. Do Not Set Unreasonable Goals.
Your puzzle will take you deep into the night if you let it. More than once I have uttered the phrase, “I’ll come to bed once I find this piece.” Remove such language from your dictionary. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself in a cold sweat, huddled in the corner of your living room in the fetal position, softly muttering, “Why?”
10. Take a Photo WITh the Final Product.
As referenced in Essential Rule #5, there is no value in completing a difficult task if nobody knows about it. Take a photo, even if you’re a bit buzzed, and text it to at least one person. Responses may include, but are not limited to “WOW!”, “That’s so cool,” and “Who is this?”
Laugh Cry and Think Some More:
Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash
You are living through the biggest health crisis in a hundred years.
You are tired.
Stressed out.
Lonely.
You have become more accustomed to the four walls of your home than you ever thought possible. Your vacation got cancelled, as did your friend’s wedding you were going to attend in that chic new dress.
You know, as difficult as your life is, that you have it better than so many others. You still have your family, your job, and, most importantly, your life. Thinking about that makes you feel guilty and, as a result, more tired and confused.
You zone out at times, binging Netflix and drinking wine. You wake up in the morning feeling like you got run over by a train. You think about going for a jog one morning, and you know the moment you wake up it isn’t going to happen.
You work long days in a job that isn’t what you expected. You lost your job. You’re looking desperately for a new job.
You are an extrovert who sits alone in a small office for eight hours a day. You are an introvert who just got off another Zoom call.
You are a health care worker who never stopped going into the office. The pandemic is your office.
You are a teacher. You’ve decided to put your health on the line because you love your students too much to even consider doing otherwise.
After work you play with your kids, which by a variety of measures is more tiring and challenging than your day job.
Since you make most of your meals at home, your kitchen has become a rotation of continual clean-up, an eight-headed monster that grows more heads when one is cut off. On the rare night you clean the kitchen fully before bed, you embrace the win. Finally, something you can control. Finally, a hint of certainty.
You find ways to give your time, talents, and treasures because you know others need it more than you do.
Despite all of this everyday heroism you display, you don’t recognize it as such in the moment. You continue to feel weak, anxious, and confused. You forget that you are actually strong, brave, and resilient. You forget that you are a treasure to your kids, a lifeline for your patients, a superhero to your students. You forget, though you know it deep inside, that everything is going to be just fine in the end. You forget, and need to be reminded, that you are doing better than you think you are.
Matt’s Most Recent:
“Children’s books remind us in uncertain times that there is still much we do know. Kindness matters. Laughter is essential. Caring for each other is everything.” — The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art
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I Love You All Ways by Marianne Richmond
Good luck getting through this one with dry eyes. There’s really nothing like a cute little bear to remind you how special your kiddos are.
2. Llama Llama Red Pajama by Anna Dewdney
I could most likely recite this one to you verbatim, though you probably wouldn’t want me to. The little llama is shown smiling on the first page, content to be experiencing the nighttime routine with his adoring mother, and we don’t see him smiling again until the last page. No spoilers, but wow — what a journey it is to get to that precise moment. This story is so popular, there is now a whole book series and a Netflix Kids show. Next stop: Llama Llama on Ice.
3. Little Blue Truck by Alice Schertle
This is the modern-day, Automobile Prodigal Son story you never knew you needed. The Little Blue Truck, who lives in harmony with a group of farm animals, is rudely interrupted by a self-important dump truck, who promptly veers off the road and into a pit of mud. What happens next is all the good stuff of humanity. All you need to know is that Blue is a bonafide hero. Beep Beep Beep.
4. The Hat by Jan Brett
If I were a real Children’s Book critic, I might call this book “A delightful, intriguing, and heart-warming story.” I love the artwork, which includes small pictures on either side of each page with a clue to what’s coming next and a reminder of what happened prior. It took me a few times before I noticed the clothesline at the top of the page, emptying out as Hedgie’s friends take from it in order to copy his winter vibe. Kids, sometimes when you think your friends are laughing at you, they’re really just trying to be like you.
5. Each Peach Pear Plum by Janet and Allan Ahlberg
More beautiful artwork here, including a portrait of the home and countryside on the first page where all the ensuing action will occur, a true children’s Middle Earth. We get to re-unite with our childhood heroes and heroine: we shoot arrows with Robin Hood and eat pie with Cinderella. I also love the idea that this book was written by a British married couple. I can imagine the scene perfectly…
Janet: Really, you’re bringing the Bears back again?!?
Allan: Well, tell me you have a better idea, eh?
Janet: It’s your turn, bloke! I came up with the rhyme about “Mother Hubbard in the cellar, I spy Cinderella…”
Allan: Well what about our non-British audience? Won’t they be cheesed off at the rhyme there?
Janet: Well I suppose so, oy!
Allan: Let’s leave it and let ‘em figure it out theyselves!
Janet: I’m chuffed with that idea.
Matt’s Most Recent
Vlad Tchompalov / Unsplash
I was twenty-two years old before I ever had any real conversations about race and racism.
Fortunately for me, my first job out of college was at the university I had just graduated from, and my boss—another white man—was passionate about anti-racism and reconciliation. We read “Dear White America: Letter to a New Minority” by Tim Wise, another white man (Stay with me!!!) which shed light on the disparities that exist in our country based upon race. In one particularly chilling section, Wise writes of a study that found white males with a criminal record were more likely to secure a job interview than black males with the same credentials and no criminal record.
We also read “Blind Spot: The Hidden Biases of Good People” by Mahzarin Banaji, which educated me about unconscious biases I have. The book’s subtitle is key: even good people have biases we often aren’t consciously aware of. As you could imagine, many of these biases deal with race and racism.
When I was offered the job to be a Resident Director for Entrada, the university’s summer program for high schoolers of ethnic minority, I felt pretty confident I could handle the job. During a two-day training I attended prior to starting the program, however, I had a sobering experience I’ll never forget. It was called a “Privilege Walk,” in which participants stand in a line on one side of a room or outdoor area. A facilitator reads various statements and asks participants to take a step forward if the statement is true for them. It went like this:
“If you can find Band-Aids at mainstream stores designed to blend in with or match with your skin tone, take one step forward.”
“If you are never asked to speak for an entire group of people who share an identity with you, take one step forward.”
“If the leadership of your organization generally look like you, take a step forward.”
For whatever reason, when the exercise started, I thought, We’ll all probably be taking steps forward; this won’t be that dramatic. Within moments, however, and almost without notice, I continued to take steps forward. Eventually I snuck a look back to see my counterparts —Black, Hispanic, Native American—twenty or so yards behind me, not a hint of surprise on their faces. They didn’t need this charade; I did.
A few days before Entrada started, as our team was preparing the dorm rooms and getting activities ready for the students, one of my RAs approached me with a concerned expression on her face. She told me that we hadn’t conducted a training on racial and ethnic identity that her and a few other RAs had gone through before; she reported that she felt uncomfortable because we were about to embark on the experience together and we hadn’t discussed our racial identities yet. This was something I had scarcely considered throughout my life to that point. It was the beginning of my understanding of White Privilege, one piece of which is having the luxury not to discuss this stuff if I didn’t want to.
Those two years working at Calvin didn’t make me an expert in racial relations. They didn’t take away the awkwardness from discussions I’ve had since, the clunkiness of these types of topics. They didn’t prepare me to handle or understand what I watched on the news this past week.
They did, however, equip me with a stronger sense of empathy for those who were born with less privilege than me. They allowed me to live in a different country with a greater sense of openness, love and respect. They have guided me now, as I live in St. Louis, attend a racially diverse church, and have conversations with friends whose experiences often differ from mine. They laid a foundation for me to want to step into these conversations, speak out against racism, and not be afraid of the messiness that comes with all of that.
When I hear the story of George Floyd, and watch even a few seconds of that awful video, all I can do, for now, is weep. There are absolutely more tangible steps we can all take, many of which have been shared broadly this past week, and we should thoughtfully consider taking them. But for people like me, white people with undeniable privilege, we often miss the essential first step of learning, listening, and looking inward.
If you feel the same way, and you want to help, perhaps a first step for you is to read something that will educate you on the racial disparities that exist in our country. In addition to the above, below is a short list of books that have shaped my views on race, racism, and reconciliation.
Resources On Race, Racism, and Reconciliation
“White Awake” by Daniel Hill offers a Christian Pastor’s perspective on coming to terms with being White. It also provides some tangible steps we can take to combat racism, though the focus is less about “what we can do to help” and more about looking inward at spiritual blindness first.
“The New Jim Crow” by Michelle Alexander is a book about Mass Incarceration in America, and offers stunning, horrifying, and utterly compelling data about how obsessed our country has become with imprisoning black men. Buy it, read it, and give it to everyone you know. If you’re not a reader, the Netflix documentary Thirteenth is an excellent piece on the same issue.
“The Hate U Give” an adolescent literature novel about a girl who watches her best friend, a young black man, get shot by a cop and the stressors and tensions she experiences in her life beyond that experience. It’s a beautifully written book. It’s now also a movie of the same name.
“White Fragility” is a book that delves into why we, as white people, are so uninterested in talking about racism. The author, Robin DiAngelo, offers, “reflecting on our racial frames is particularly challenging for many white people, because we are taught that to have a racial viewpoint is to be biased. Unfortunately, this belief protects our biases, because denying that we have them ensures that we won’t examine or change them.” Now would be a great time for all of us to examine our biases so that we can change them. This book will help you reflect.
“The Case for Reparations” by Ta-Nehisi Coates is an article in The Atlantic that will probably take you an hour or so to read. It details, as succinctly as I’ve seen, the history of racial injustice in our country, from sanctioned organized murders of blacks in 1921 Tulsa (99 years ago yesterday) to The New Deal that rested upon Jim Crow laws (70-80% of blacks in the South did not qualify for these relief programs because of the way they were written). We have to consider the redlining policies that were legal in our country a mere half-century ago; policies in which federal agencies would not insure a home until the buyer signed a clause stating they would not sell the home to anyone who wasn’t white. Just imagine you are trying to get a mortgage and you are repeatedly denied because of the color of your skin. When we look at injustice and racial disparity today, we have to consider these intentional economic practices of yesterday.
“Just Mercy” is a book by Bryan Stevenson about his experiences as a defense lawyer fighting for the wrongly condemned. It is a moving book, if infuriating, and helps us understand the brokenness of the criminal justice system. It’s also now a movie starring Michael B. Jordan and is free to rent on Amazon and other platforms in June.
I am dad-ding today.
I’m sitting on the end of the sectional portion of our gray couch, watching Chloe move across the wooden floor. This week, she has begun to master walking. For the first few days, she moved with straight legs as if unaware of her knees. This morning, as she moves, she bends her knee slightly as she glides across the room.
To my right is a floor-bound, displaced couch cushion. Her new favorite game is pulling it forward, sticking her pacifier behind it, and then immediately begin looking for it as if it’s been unjustly stolen. This game is repeated several times in a row, until she either gets bored or I begin questioning the meaning of life (whichever comes first).
Such is life with a baby who is morphing into a toddler in front of your very eyes.
As she walks, she drops down to the floor in a slow motion, almost into a squatting position. Two times in a row, she slowly stands back up on her own, and takes more steps. This is new. I am reminded of Brene Brown’s book Rising Strong, which I just finished, and think, there is probably a metaphor here. I commit to researching this but put it on my “someday” list because I don’t have the energy today.
Once she makes it all the way over to me, she hands me one of her new favorite books innovatively entitled “Words.” We read through some of them: “Car,” “Pizza,” “Teal.” (Teal?!) She may be saying “Car,” though it’s tough to tell at this point – she appears to be on the brink of unlocking innumerable verbal abilities.
In the middle of reading, she falls down sideways in a bit of a tumble. She doesn’t hit her head, so I’m not too worried, but it’s one of those every-couple-of-days falls that could result in tears. I spend a split-second in fear for her general wellness, then watch as her eyes lock into mine. She is, without words, asking me, “Am I ok?” She knows I’ve been around for a while and may have some insight into these kinds of things. I immediately give her a big, warm smile. You can almost see her body relax as she accepts this new reality: I am ok.
We do the diaper change and I read to her before her 11am nap. Today it’s a mutual favorite, “I Love You All Ways.” As I read, I get emotional as I sometimes do, reflecting on how much I love this child; it’s something I have no control over, something that wells up inside me without warning. The cliche is true: I would do anything for this little gal.
I can usually tell how tired she is by how much or how little she leans to her left to grab more books from her bookshelf as I read to her. Sometimes she’ll grab a book for me and by page 2 she is already reaching for another one. Neeeeext. Today, she doesn’t reach out at all. When we finish “All Ways,” she gives a small but clear sigh. Up, down. I gingerly carry her to her crib, place a blanket over her, and watch as her eyes immediately get heavy. Right before they close she shows a look of slight concern, as if to say, “Sheesh, why am I not asleep already? Being awake suuuuucks.”
As I close the door, like a responsible little church mouse, I think about her falling over and how she looks to me for assurance. Am I Ok?
I think about how, other times, all of a sudden, she’s able to stand right back up on her own. I crack open another door, the mental door to her future years, to when she’ll be able to pick herself and others up… and quickly shut that door because, as the great Jonathan Larson wrote, There’s only us, there’s only this. All at once, I’m exhausted, nostalgic, and super duper thankful to be her dad.
Matt’s Most Recent
I’m so extroverted that when I take the Meyers-Briggs personality test, it comes back with an error message. There is nothing that gives me energy like being in a large group, making people laugh with my own hilarious original content (40%) or by quoting comedians (60%). Thus, the current COVID-19 crisis has been a challenge. Still, I’ve seen so much that has made me laugh, cry, and think. As Jim Valvano famously said, “…you do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.”
LAUGH
I saw a Facebook post today in which a friend earnestly asked how she could help during the crisis. There were some good answers, but the one that struck me the most was simple: “Humor.” Perhaps one of the greatest services we can offer each other, outside of the heroic efforts from our nation’s health care professionals, is a good giggle.
1. How We Watch Sports Now
2. Every Mom in America
3. Re-watching John Mulaney’s stand-up special “New In Town” on Netflix
It’s so good.
CRY
1. My 83-Year-Old Grandparents
My Grammie and Papa are among the most anxious people I’ve known. We drive a couple of hours across the state? They lose a whole night of sleep. Getting on a plane? Please call us when you land. Worldwide epidemic threatening literally all of us, but especially the elderly?
They were OUT TO DINNER in Florida this past week, just liiiiving their lives like it’s the Roaring 50’s, and I left them a voicemail in which I may or may not have stated, “We don’t have another baby on the way yet, but I’d like for you to meet the kid when it happens.” The voicemail also potentially used the phrase “gallivanting around Sarasota” and involved me threatening to “drive down there” to quarantine them myself.
2. Humanity
Not even two weeks ago, a buddy texted me: “Bro. No more NBA this year.” Within 48 hours, the sports world had shut down, Tom Hanks tested positive, and the markets went into a downward spiral that changed how the virus was viewed. It became really easy for me to panic, feel my chest tighten, and allow anxiety to take its place in my life.
Then…
Then we remembered that, like Luke Bryan told us in 2017, most people are good.
Kevin Love and other NBA players announced they would be covering the salaries of arena staff affected by the crisis.
An opera singer quarantined in Italy began serenading the people of Florence from a balcony.
People donated to their local food banks and gave blood.
Educators shared schedules and resources for newly-minted home school teachers.
Companies—big and small—used their resources to produce and donate supplies.
Closer to home, my church leaders gathered a comprehensive list of companies that are hiring in our area and shared it widely.
Alas, this list is far from complete, and it’s far from over.
When I scroll Twitter, I am easily reminded how divided and broken we all are. When I look elsewhere, though, it remains powerfully clear that we are all colored with the divine.
3. When Technology Wasn’t The Worst
Over the past week I’ve had the chance to FaceTime with all four of my grandparents (including those lovelies who wouldn’t stay inside). I am reminded how fortunate I am to be nearing thirty and to still have relationships with four healthy grandparents. I’ve been on calls with friends from different corners of my life, friends I haven’t been in touch with for years. There’s something about getting on the phone these days that makes me feel alive, a helpful reminder that my heart continues to churn, that we’re all in this together.
THINK
1. Articulations
My friend and fellow Calvin University alum Peter Boumgarden writes a monthly newsletter called Articulations that always makes me think deeply. The most recent edition had a piece about the current crisis and how it is impacting organizations and the diffusion of ideas. Additionally, he shared a timely quote from C.S. Lewis, who at the dawn of the atomic age, said this:
If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.
2. Atomic Habits
I listened to an abridged version of this book by James Clear that I’ve heard several people recommend, and it did not disappoint. The book’s thesis is that small changes in our daily habits can make a really big difference in the long-term. It has made me take stock of my own habits, and I’ve got plenty of time to practice for the foreseeable future.
3. #FlattenTheCurve
This Vox piece, which was disseminated broadly starting March 10, has aged well. Unfortunately, we are still seeing dire conditions in places like New York City where medical capabilities may not be enough in the coming weeks. The bottom line is, let’s all continue to save lives by staying home.
Peace, hope, and love.
Check Out My Most Recent Stuff:
Like most people, Amazon packages find their way to my doorstep on a regular basis. Not long after my wife and I moved to St. Louis, our mailman threatened to come into our house and break our computer so we would stop buying so much stuff.
(As a side note, I’m not sure our mailman understands how the internet works.)
Long story short, I’ve regretted a lot of the purchases I’ve made. Rather than post them as reviews on the site like a helpful human being, I have self-depricatingly published them here, on my own site, for your entertainment.
Part 1: “Come On, Man”
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The Orange Apple Watch Band
My Apple Watch came with a bland grey watch band. A few people at work had more colorful bands. “I should be like them,” I told myself every night before bed and every morning in front of the mirror. “Grey isn’t cool enough. I’m boring.” Also happening inside of me was a desire to publicly display my favoritest color, red orange, on my person. The band didn’t fit well; it was a bit cheap and uncomfortable. I regretted it.
2. The Bike Lock
I bought this for a “Bike and Brew” that I organized last October. Me and a buddy were planning to bike to a few different breweries around St. Louis we’d never been to before. It was cold and rainy that day, so we ended up driving. I also couldn’t figure out how to get the lock hooked up to my bike, so I still haven’t used it.
3. Hamilton: The Revolution
The book has so much insight about the show, including photos of different scenes and explanations of how particular choreography was crafted. When I actually saw the show, I wasn’t really surprised by anything. Turns out you really can have too much of a good thing.
4. The Little Baby Comb
This comb was way too small. If only the Amazon listing had mentioned the size somewhere, anywhere in the post, perhaps in the title or something…
5. The Car Phone Holder
This item broke within a year. What did I do when it broke? I bought the exact same one again. I don’t regret that purchase yet because it is still working. Stay tuned.
6. AC for the car…?
My 2003 Honda Civic’s AC broke down two summers ago. I did my typical, half-assed research on getting AC fixed and didn’t want to pony up the dollars. So, in genius-like fashion, I bought this fan. The first morning I used it, I texted my wife: “I think it’s really helping!” That afternoon, when the air was warmer, I was exposed for the actual idiot that I am.
7. Did You find my rain jacket?
I texted a buddy: “Hey man, I think I left my rain jacket at your place. Did you find it?” His response: “I’ll look.” He never found it. After I bought this rain jacket, I found the original jacket in my closet. Now I have two rain jackets.
8. Bluetooth man
There’s nothing wrong with this purchase. If I were an Amazon rating guru, I’d give it some number of stars. It’s cool to be able to connect your iPhone to your car speakers wirelessly, and it’s fun to pretend that your 2003 Civic is, I don’t know, a 2007 Civic. But the battery died pretty much every week, so I went back to the old fashion USB cord and never looked back. Also, I am now 88 years old.
Part 2: “Return Complete”
At a certain point, after the regret piled nearly as high as the Tower of Babel, I realized Amazon accepts returns and the process isn’t terrible.
9. Wallet
I just didn’t like it. And $30?? Now I don’t have any money to put in the wallet! Amirite, millennial friends???
10. Belt
Despite the photo shown here, there was only one belt. Also, the belt fit but when I put it through the holes, there’s too much left on the other side and I was stuck looking like a dorky eighth grader who plays the clarinet. I still use my old reversible belt that has a little wear and tear on the front but I really like it and it fits and I’m feeling pretty fine about it.
11. This again?!?
You’d think I would have learned my lesson. I didn’t.
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My daughter is now ten months old, and reading is becoming an exciting, every-day-and-night event in our home. She can open the flaps, mimic the sounds of the peacock, and rip off the 3-D turtle head faster than you can say “endangered species.” I’m not entirely sure what percentage of these books she is comprehending, what lessons are seeping into that growing, impressionable brain of hers. Many of them, you may be surprised to know, are teaching the wrong lessons to today’s children and must be exposed for what they are. Apparently part 1 of this series didn’t solve the problem, so it’s time for another go.
1. If I Were a Puppy, by Anne Wilkinson
The author doesn’t put her name on the front of this book, which I can only assume is a subtle attempt to distance herself from it as quickly as possible. The book contains five statements that attempt to show what life would be like as a canine. On the second page, the statement says, “… my tail would be furry.” The tail has a patch of material that babies can reach out to and touch. The only problem? The picture is 1000% a cat. You be the judge:
The book, although taking only approximately seven seconds to read, is surprisingly difficult to follow. I’m not sure if we’re supposed to be excited about the possibility of being a puppy or terrified. The final phrase simply states, “If I were a puppy, I’d go up on the hill and leap in the sun with the bunnies!”
I know grass has been essentially legalized by now, but excuuuse me? We’re talking about going up on some specified hill and throwing ourselves into the earth’s closest flaming star with a bunch of bunnies? I have to believe this is a dark metaphor of some kind and I don’t need my daughter being influenced by it any longer.
2. Good Night Gorilla, by Peggy Rathmann
In case you’re unfamiliar, here’s a quick overview: Zoo security guard makes his evening rounds. Monkey steals keys. Monkey lets out all other animals from their cages. All animals follow security guard back to his home, which is right across the street. Security guard’s wife wakes up to find monkey in their bed with them, then walks animals back to the zoo.
Where to begin?
If these are the security features at my local zoo, consider me unsubscribed. This book is essentially Paul Blart: Zoo Cop for kids, except instead of a segway it’s just an idiot walking around with a flashlight being outsmarted by a monkey. Why not just give him a brown paper bag and throw a Bud Light ad into the book?
Also, half of the book’s pages are just pictures with no words. Can you at least let me teach my daughter some vocabulary? If I wanted to completely relinquish my parental responsibilities, I’d turn on Netflix Kids and take a nap.
3. The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein
I know, I know, this book makes you weep beautiful tears and you used to read it with your parents and Shel Silverstein is a genius and you loveloveLOVE Where The Sidewalk Ends.
The book begins this way: “Once there was a tree… and she loved a little boy.” The little boy plays with the tree and they have a great time. Until, that is, the boy gets older and busier and starts to only show up whenever he needs something. It’s a pretty long and drawn out tale, with three words to a page, leaving a lot of white space and the unanswered question, “How many Giving Trees had to be murdered in order to tell this incredibly sad story?”
Instead, the book could just as easily be three pages long: “Once there was a tree… and she loved a little boy. The little boy took complete advantage of her repeatedly until she died. This was an entirely unhealthy, one-sided relationship and should not be emulated whatsoever.”
4. Giraffes Can’t Dance, by Giles Andreae & Guy Parker-Rees
Aside from Andreae and Parker-Rees going for the rhyme between violin and thing, which is completely unforgivable, I have some major thoughts on the content and themes of this book.
If you are a young parent, settle in — this one is essentially The Irishman for children. The main character is a humble giraffe who can’t dance because — you guessed it — he’s an awkward, twenty-foot-tall giraffe. Lions and warthogs are depicted performing “brilliant” moves I can only assume would be flagged as pornographic if they were to show up online, but our hero is laughed off the stage when he tries to bust a move. After an evening encounter with a cricket and a good, long stare at the moon, the giraffe struts back over to the rest of the animals and delivers an awe-inspiring, neck-twisting dance that would make Martha Graham smile.
The story is all well and good, but what gets me is one of the final lines of the book. The other animals exclaim, in a single voice, “You’re the best dancer that we’ve ever, ever seen!”
Could you imagine a more American take in a children’s book set in Africa? The hero is bad at something in the beginning, and by the end, twelve seconds later, has honed his skills to the point where he is the best MoFo to EVER do it.
Uh oh… what is this feeling?
…
I think I feel a rant coming on…
Can we all stop selling our children the lies that they will all be above average at everything, that they are the most special jewels to ever grace God’s green earth? Believe me, I get it: Our kids are extremely special to us and we want them to know they are loved and capable and precious. But can we stop just short of promising that if you just try hard, you will inevitably rise to the very top and be the greatest of all time? Can we remind our kids that greatness takes time, hours, and energy — and is never really promised anyway? This is how we end up with arrogant dudes who can’t admit they are wrong and crush their tennis racquets when a game doesn’t go their way.
Ok, wait, I blacked out, can someone tell me what just happened?
5. The Going to Bed Book, by Sandra Boynton
This book is fairly straightforward. A bunch of animals are on a boat (perhaps Noah’s Ark, but it’s unclear). Once they’ve bathed together in “one big tub,” which is a page I always shield Chloe’s eyes and unblemished soul from, they complete their going to bed routine by… dramatic pause… going upstairs to EXERCISE!
I say again… excuse me?!?
There’s nothing better than putting on your PJs and throwing up a few plates on the bench press before turning in.
I’ve just had it with all this insanity. Someone please tell me: is this normal? Is reading children’s books making me go insane? Maybe it’s time to go up on the hill with the bunnies and let the sun carry me home.
Matt’s Most Recent:
It just takes some time
Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be all right all right
The moment I hear the opening guitar riff, I am transported to a 2002 family vacation in Central Illinois. Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle” taught me that music is the most powerful way to access memories.
Today, as I count down the final hours of 2019, music again reminds me how much change can take place in a decade.
When the clock struck midnight and the ball dropped to reveal 2010, I was a scrawny college sophomore at Calvin College, which has already changed its name. I remember racing back to campus after Christmas that year to see my girlfriend and get to a dance practice for a lip syncing competition I was in. I spent the first January of the decade traveling Europe for a Psychology study abroad. Looking back, it was more vacation than anything else.
That summer, I visited my friend Scott and he introduced me to his new favorite song:
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Indeed, when the decade started I was a young dreamer, looking to the sky with unfettered optimism and an endless bank of wishes.
In 2012, on the morning of my college graduation, three friends and I packed a car, rolled the windows down, and yelled the spring’s most popular tune to anyone who would listen:
Baby you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
That morning, while belting out the lyrics in that car, I didn’t have a care in the world; it may have been the shower beer I had consumed earlier, but One Direction played their part as well.
In 2015, I was teaching English at a public school in a country whose dark history had rendered faith nearly obsolete. I felt almost rebellious playing one of my new favorite Christian songs in front of students:
My lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness
I will follow you
Teaching in Hungary, a truly post-Christian country, was my first experience outside the Christian “bubble” in six years; without that experience, my faith would not be what it is today.
In 2016, while in grad school, I found a musical that I couldn’t stop listening to:
I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I am not throwing away my shot
Those words inspired me as I moved toward completing a lifelong goal. I made a vow that I wouldn’t throw away the unique opportunity in front of me.
The summer of 2017 will always be marked as one of the more difficult seasons for me as I began to understand my anxiety while living in another new city. It was a different musical that will always remind me of those days:
On the outside, always looking in
Will I ever be more than I’ve always been?
‘Cause I’m tap, tap, tapping on the glass
I’m waving through a window
That summer, as I turned twenty-seven, my body started telling me secrets it had been hiding. I learned what a numb arm and a pounding heart meant. I started to recover a little slower after workouts. I had coworkers who treated me as though I was small and ineffective. It certainly wasn’t the worst situation in the world, but my wish bank seemed to be emptying out a bit, and the music of Dear Evan Hansen hit me in a way nothing else could.
By 2018 I was finally working a big-boy job and listened to podcasts and audiobooks more than music. My wife was pregnant with our first child and we rented a house with a fence to accommodate a puppy. We were beginning to really settle into adulthood, starting to ask bigger questions about what we wanted life to be like as we headed toward our thirties and into parenthood.
Tell me something, girl
Are you happy in this modern world?
Or do you need more?
A Star is Born posed some questions that helped us think deeper about our lives.
Music has marked a decade in which my life changed drastically. When the decade started, I was Simba looking out at my future kingdom, peering wide-eyed at a sky full of wish-filled airplanes. As I have gone through this decade of change, I have encountered ever deepening challenges; come to know my shortcomings and capacity for sin; and learned, as we all must, that wishes don’t come easy and that dreams, paradoxically, are often fulfilled through deep pain and heartbreak. I enter this new decade with a different kind of optimism: one that knows the road will be difficult and perhaps dark, but one that understands that, as Thomas Merton said, “no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance that is always there.”
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Matt and Kendahl: The Hungarian Years 
My daughter became a toddler in 2020 which took approximately 80% of my energy.