Category Archives: Friendship

Coming Unhinged?

Posted on by
1

We interrupt the Youth Sports Mania series (which will continue in a day or two) with this emergency query: have I totally lost it?  The last two years I’ve spent the last Thursday in July cycling around Mount Rainier in what’s known as RAMROD.  Both rides were a highlight of both summers because 1) I trained hard from mid-April or early May and 2) I had two excellent wingmen, T and D, stronger riders than me who I often tucked in behind to conserve energy or to manage the final 25 miles when running on fumes, 3) the scenery is unrivaled, and 4) we rode really well and passed people all day long.  

Fast forward to this year.  I returned from Europe in late May, and began cycling, but because I was something like 199th on the RAMROD wait list, I wasn’t terribly motivated to go long, especially since I’m training for the Portland Marathon.  My longest ride of the season so far is 59 solo, fairly hill miles.  Even that ride involved a big brunch with the fam and in-laws in the middle.  I’m riding really hard twice a week (averaging just over 100 miles/week), but compared to 06 and 07, my mileage is way down.  For an event like this, I’m seriously under-trained.  On top of that, T is in Washington D.C. mountain biking with President Bush on the weekends (22 times so far) and D has gotten too damn strong for me to try to ride with this year.  

Fast forward to yesterday when I learned I made it into the ride.  Does the fact that I’m even considering doing the ride, mean I’ve lost touch with reality.  Any of you who have lost your sanity see the same telltale signs in me?  

Here’s my plan.  Spend six hours in the saddle Friday with ample climbing.  Then the question is can I ride extremely conservatively to the first climb, and then conservatively up to Paradise, and then conservatively through Backbone Ridge, and then conservatively up Cayuse.  I think I can do it if I stay within myself and repeat this mantra, “No heroics.”  I’ll suffer mightily, but that provides the opportunity to develop more mental toughness which will make me a better endurance athlete.

So, I’m leaning towards attempting it.  Let me know if I’m totally crazy, I suspect those who are most crazy are the last to know.  

Here’s last year’s race report:

143.3 miles.  10,406’ elevation gained.  10,027 calories burned.  Total time, 8:50-8:55.  Riding time, 8:03:49.  Average speed, 17.8.  Maximum speed, 42.7.  Average heart rate, 132.  Max, probably mid 150’s.

Last year I overinflated my tires and had to change tubes, ran out of tubes, and then tipped over all between 3:30a.m. and our start at 5:40a.m.  This year prerace prep went perfectly and I even stayed upright as they checked our numbers at the start.

Like all endurance events, this one is all about preparation.  This summer I’ve totaled about 90-95% of last summer’s miles.  Despite the slight dip, I went 103 miles by myself a few weeks ago.  Thanks to the wettest July in ages, a lot of this month’s miles were solo.  When it’s warm and not windy, I really don’t mind riding in the rain.  Of course that’s only when it starts mid-ride.   

Rode with three friends, one who had three additional friends who we waited for at the start, but dropped almost immediately.  That’s a nice segue to the line of the day, which ironically occurred at the 2 mile mark.  My plan was to effortlessly spin for 10 miles, slowly increase it over the next 30, until hitting the base of the first extended climb when I knew it would be every man for himself to the top.  Ease into it and reduce it to a damn hilly century.

Problem is D (former professional marathoner) has gotten crazy strong and he’s hardwired to go hard all the time.  So I happened to lead us out and I’m crawling along at 15mph on what is actually a 40 mile 2% grade run up to the base of the first climb.  We actually pass and pick up a few riders when T says to D, “How you doin?”  To which D replies, “Hemmed in.”  A club passes us hard in matching kits and he pulls out, passes me (I had decided to let them go) and quickly closes the gap.  At my advanced age, I still bowed to peer pressure, and followed suit.  We used those guys for 10-15 miles until they stopped for some sissy reason no doubt.  We put time into them all day. 

Last sentence requires an explanation.  Normally, we ride up, down, and around the mountain, meaning you have no idea how many people are in front of you or behind you.  This year it was an out and back due to major winter storms and road damage/closures, with three major climbs off the main out and back highway.  Therefore, we saw a handful of riders descend before us and 98% climbing behind us as we descended the three big hills.  Out of 800 riders, maybe 10-15 finished before us.  And they may have started before us.  Start was open from 4-6 and we rolled at 5:42. 

Long story short, D and T dropped the hammer for 8 hours and I hung on for my dear life.  T climbed Sunrise with me, the first, longest, and most scenic of the three climbs.  It was nice to have someone to talk to, especially someone who knew the road and was able to tell me what was ahead.  We blew off the 25 mile rest stop so I stopped for two minutes at the base of Sunrise (mile 40 I think) to drink, swallow a few salt tablets, and pop a few dried mangoes in my mouth.  That gave Steve, friend three, just the separation he needed, but T and I caught him 3/4ths of the way up.  We passed person after person.  I told two guys we came up on, “The coach told us to bring some water bottles up to you” and they cracked up.  Most other guys didn’t find being passed so amusing. 

The views were incredible, but I was working too hard to really enjoy them.  The descent was one of the best ever.  Air temp most of the ride was in the 60’s, so perfect, and probably 50 with wind chill on the descents.  Some guys were cold on the descent even with arm warmers, but I went without and was only borderline chilly, which again was perfect.  Couldn’t have asked for better weather.  Climbs 2 and 3 were mid-day and in the sun and the only times I sweated quite heavily.  Hours 1 and 2 were so quick I struggled to drink enough.  I was worried about the medium and long-term effects of that, but I compensated by drinking a ton mid-ride.  That plus 8 salt tablets kept me from cramping. 

We regrouped at the bottom of descent one and rode together to climb 2.  We separated on climb 2 fairly early on and regrouped again at the top.  Same pattern for climb 3.  Climb 3 began at mile 100 and was 10 miles long.  The first 4 were relatively gentle and I sat in our group of 5-6 (having picked up two riders).  Then as they started to pull away I said, “Meet you at the top.”  At mile 107 we came upon a 12% grade sign.  Kid you not, I was as close to unclicking as I’ve ever been.  I probably slowed from 7-8 to 5 mph and still pulled away from the two guys I was riding near.  Had to stand most of the way and after somehow making it over borrowed from Kurt Warner after his SuperBowl victory, “Thank you Jesus.”  Almost immediately though, there was a 12% descent which I couldn’t enjoy at all because all I could think about was climbing it very shortly.  We took a nature break at the top and immediately started descending.  Hit the 12% climb right at 112!  I said to Steve, “I just love hitting 12% climbs at 112 miles in.”  I also told him I’d have to swear him to secrecy if I had to unclick.  We both made it, all of us reformed at the main highway at mile 120, and continued to the infamous deli stop at 123. 

Amazing organization and volunteers.  The deli stop is actually a sandwich bar.  I had turkey on wheat with mustard, mayonnaise, and a tomato.  Throw in a Diet Coke, oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, and 20 miles suddenly seemed doable.  We told some guys we were leaving and we formed an 8-9 person paceline.  Now it’s a 2% downgrade, but it’s into a pretty strong headwind, so the two neutralized each other.  First guy starts pulling at 17 and I’m behind D just cracking up.  I’m loving it because I’ve been riding way too hard for way too long.  I had no pride at that point and would have sat in the whole way home!  The guy pulls and pulls and pulls and I know D in front of me and T behind me are like restless thoroughbreds in the gate.  Then the guy pulls off, drops back two riders and cuts in right on top of D.  D somehow avoids the ditch and just shakes his head.  Apparently, the guy had no idea we were back there.  That’s all T needed to snap, saying, “Come on, let’s go” and took off into the wind. 

Leaving the deli stop I had told D and T that they could easily blow me off the back, and I reminded them that I had the car key.  It worked out because they pulled a lot farther/longer than I did.  After one of my puny pulls, I barely got back on and then started to fall off, but I told them and they sat up for 45 seconds which was all I needed to recover.  At that point we picked up two equally strong riders and flew over the last 15 miles. 

Positive peer pressure.  As we approached the finish, I eased off to cool down.  D and T accelerated.  They couldn’t be nicer guys, but I sure wish they’d learn the joy of spinning.

I was extremely proud of how well all of us rode, but I know there’s a whole other category of riders that would humble us.  We ride with some cat 1-5 guys most weeks and we know we’re just a bunch of Cutters.  Increasingly though, D pisses off those guys by hanging with them to the very end of our club rides.

Next year, T will be living in D.C. until September 08, and I return from Europe on May 23rd.  So I won’t have anywhere near the necessary miles in, and therefore, won’t extend my streak*.  D is already preparing to go solo.

* Or will I?

  

Youth Sports Mania 1

Posted on by
1

First in a series.  I’ve done a lot of thinking about youth sports, mostly while sitting on the sidelines at my daughter’s soccer games.  Just because I’ve done a lot of thinking about youth sports doesn’t mean that what follows is “the truth,” it’s simply my subjective perspective based upon my particular life experiences.  I welcome opposing viewpoints and I’m curious if my perspective resonates with anyone.  Like Ben Stein said in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, “Anyone? Anyone?”

Some context.  I grew up playing sports all the time, switching sports with the seasons.  I was decent in most every sport, but didn’t distinguish myself in any.  I think positively about my sports experiences and I would describe myself as sports-minded.  

I have a hunch that I may be different than most sports fans in that I tend to root for the underdog even if “my” team is favored.  Between 1985-1989, I taught at four high schools in Los Angeles, one in the inner city, one in an upper middle class section of the San Fernando Valley, and two in between.  When watching basketball games at the well-to-do school, I recall silently rooting for the visiting inner city teams.  Similarly, if I read a compelling story about a foreign athlete before the Olympics, I’ll typically root for him/her even if they’re going head-to-head with an American. 

My daughters are privileged, as are most of their teammates.  Sometimes they play teams that appear to be less privileged, imperfectly measured mostly by the number of adults in attendance.  Sometimes my daughters’ teams thump less privileged teams and I feel alienated from the parents who continue to cheer lustily after each successive goal.  I’ve been on the other side too, having watched my daughters’ teams get spanked, and was amazed at how oblivious the other parents were to the larger context as they cheered wildly for goal eight, nine, ten.  

My first youth sports experience as a parent was unequivocally negative.  L and I signed up A, at age four, for soccer.  Good thing I have a modest blog readership because that’s a difficult admission.  If three seconds ago you didn’t stop and say to yourself, “What the hell were they thinking signing up their four year old daughter for organized soccer?” you should have.  And in case you didn’t, I will, “What the hell were we thinking signing up our four year old for organized soccer?” 

I guess the sad truth of the matter is we did it because we were human lemmings mindlessly following the lead of our peers.  I’m not proud of that, but at least I’m owning up to it.

Stay tuned.

Taxes and Tenure Tempo Run

Posted on by
Reply

Early Wednesday morning, before TP (Training Partner) and I had left the hood on our tempo run, the talk turned to new taxes, economic growth, Governor Christine Gregoire, inflation, and tenure.  Tenure? 

TP doesn’t think I understand the negative consequences of tax increases on people like him.  More than that, he thinks I’m incapable of understanding the negative consequences because my paycheck isn’t contingent on how many students I recruit and retain.  His annual salary is based in part on bonuses that are based upon steadily increasing sales.  Steadily decreasing sales means he’s looking for work.

I counter that lower taxes don’t always lead to increased economic growth (see 2005-2008).  And economic analysts agree that both JM’s and BO’s economic plans will add to the deficit which of course has negative medium and long-term economic consequences.  Rather than simply repeating that we need lower taxes, we need to discuss national, state, and local priorities and how we’re going to pay for any tax cuts. 

Ultimately, TP and I disagree about the role of the government; consequently, we usually finish our runs/debates agreeing to disagree.

Intellectually at least, I understand that people will purchase fewer of TP’s products since they’ll have less disposable income.  But what TP was trying to communicate is that I can’t truly empathize with him.  And I admit I don’t understand his day-to-day work experience in a “deep down in the gut” sense.

I think his frustration is I can’t fully appreciate how stressful his work world is and I wouldn’t be quite so liberal if I had to walk in his work shoes.

In my early twenties, I decided socially redeeming work and meaningful interpersonal relations were more important than making lots of money.  By the time I received tenure seven/eight years ago, I had developed a sense of professionalism that hasn’t changed since receiving tenure.  In TP’s thinking, employees are motivated almost exclusively by economic incentives.  As a result, he struggles to understand what motivates educators like me to continue trying to improve.

Just like me, TP tends to generalize from his own experience; nonetheless, I don’t want to say he’s incapable of understanding what motivates me because that’s a conversation stopper.  When he pulls out the “free market business” card and says I can’t understand the impact of higher taxes, it’s a conversation stopper.  Instead, I want to be a good friend and listen and learn by saying, “Teach me. What’s it like to get increasingly more difficult sales targets? What’s it like to feel like your customers won’t be able to afford your product? What’s it like to feel you can’t take an afternoon off without fear of falling behind your targets?  Are the rewards worth it?  Why or why not?”

TP and I have a unique friendship.  We often get into passionate disagreements that we’ve learned to quickly put behind us.  I may never understand the world of a salesperson as deeply as he would like, but as a result of our long running friendship (pun intended) I have a little better feel for life outside the Ivory Tower.  And for that, I’m thankful.

   

Voluntary Deprivation

Posted on by
1

Best shower ever?  Easy, the first one after a weeklong backpacking trip in the High Sierras many moons ago.  Why?  Because I don’t think I’ve ever been as dirty, and afterwords, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as clean.  The impossibility of showering made me appreciate a daily activity I’d come to take for granted.

Best road ride of the year (so far)?  The first one upon returning home from Europe, May 25th.  Despite the lack of fitness, I felt like the seven year old kid I once was cycling to the park to prepare for baseball tryouts. 

On the other hand, as a Pacific Northwesterner, I’m certain I appreciate sunny dry weather more than my brother and friends who live in Southern California.

It seems like it’s human nature to gradually take for granted those things—health, close friendships, sunshine, romantic love, nature, warm showers—that enrich day-to-day life.  I get frustrated with myself for only appreciating my health after I fall ill.  Similarly, I take working out too much for granted.  That is unless my back gives out or I develop a micro-tear in one of my calf muscles.

What’s the secret to appreciating more consistently and deeply those people and things that enrich day-to-day life?

Three weeks ago LAJ and I were hiking in Grindelwald, Switzerland in the Swiss Alps.  We decided to travel to Grindelwald based on the recommendation of a close friend.  “Come on,” I said to our friend, “we live next to Mount Rainier, how much nicer can it be?”  “Imagine three Mount Rainers,” he replied, “and you’re right in the middle of them.” 

We had a tough time getting to Grindelwald, arriving at 10:30p from Cinque Terre and Milan, Italy.  Since it was pitch black we struggled to figure out which mountain path led to our hostel until some friendly people helped us get going in the right direction.  The next morning I immediately pulled the curtains back and looked out the window at. . . fog. . . we were socked in.  My first (and only) task of the day was to hike back down the hill to the train station to purchase our next set of train tickets.  As I hiked down the hill, the fog began to lift.  It was like sitting in the nicest performing arts center imaginable and watching gigantic curtains open.  By the time I hit the train station, it looked like I could reach out and touch the peaks.  Spectacular, awe-inspiring beauty.  Indeed, Rainier times three (with cows). 

Later that afternoon, during our hike, L and I stood wide mouthed at the sight of the most amazing mountain peak we’d ever seen.  [A and J were in “Yeah nice whatever, three more days until we get to see our friends” mode.]  Standing there, I said to L, “You know, the amazing thing about this view is the locals probably get used to it and take it for granted.”  To which she replied, “Oh no, impossible.”  To which I replied, “I’m not so sure.”  I let it go, too transcendent a setting to play one of our favorite games, “Whose most stubborn?”

Fast-forward three-four hours to a very nice hotel restaurant where  L’s parents treated us to an amazing meal.  While eating, we befriended the waiter/maitre de, a middle-aged local cook/mountain climber who grew up in Grindelwald.  In the middle of some mountain climbing talk, L asked, “Having grown up here, do you take the incredible views for granted?”  I took some pride in the fact that my thesis was nagging at her.  To which he said, “Yes.  I’ve lived here my entire life except for about ten years when I left to attend cooking school and then cook in different places in Europe.  When I returned home, it wasn’t until I began listening to visitors talk about the mountain views that I realized how special they are.”  At this point, L shot me a telepathic message that only people married two decades plus are able to transmit.  “Wipe that smirk off your face.” 

One way to stay appreciative of the people and things that enrich daily life is to take purposeful breaks from them.  You’re probably familiar with the “voluntary simplicity” movement.  I’m thinking of something related, “voluntary deprivation.”  This could be tricky, in this economy in particular, where a lot of people are fighting involuntary deprivation.  What about starting out small, and quietly and humbly giving up driving, caffeine, eating out, or television (after the US and British Opens of course) for a day, week, month, or year?  

Cynicism and semi-abrupt transition alert.  Modern parenting in the burbs seems to be based on the complete opposite notion of “immediate gratification”.  For example, there are some movie franchises (Harry Potter, Chronicles of Narnia, Pirates) that 99% of my friends take their children to within the first seven days of a release.  Guaranteed.  Similarly, several years ago, in the course of a few days it seemed, every parent in my neighborhood bought their children Razor Scooters.  Young people are no different.  I think they’d appreciate going to the movies with friends or families more if they did it less often.  Similarly, I think they’d appreciate their material possessions more if they had fewer of them and had to work longer and harder for them.

Admittedly, proposing voluntary deprivation is counter-cultural, but I’m going to continue to think about it until you convince me there are better ways to be truly and continually appreciative of the people and things that enrich our daily lives.

Wise Shopping

Posted on by
Reply

Positive psychology, a relatively new academic sub-discipline, intrigues me.  Founded by psychologists who felt their field had become too focused on dysfunction, positive psychologists study “the strengths and virtues that enable individuals and communities to thrive.” 

In 2006, Dan Gilbert, a positive psych prof at Harvard, published a bestseller titled “Stumbling on Happiness.”  Referred to by some as Doctor Happiness, he was interviewed by a New York Times journalist recently.  Here’s an excerpt:

Q. As the author of a best seller about happiness, do you have any advice on how people can achieve it?

A. I’m not Dr. Phil.  We know that the best predictor of human happiness is human relationships and the amount of time that people spend with family and friends.  We know that it’s significantly more important than money and somewhat more important than health. That’s what the data shows. The interesting thing is that people will sacrifice social relationships to get other things that won’t make them as happy—money. That’s what I mean when I say people should do “wise shopping” for happiness.  Another thing we know from studies is that people tend to take more pleasure in experiences than in things. So if you have “x” amount of dollars to spend on a vacation or a good meal or movies, it will get you more happiness than a durable good or an object. One reason for this is that experiences tend to be shared with other people and objects usually aren’t.

Q. Have you just expressed a very anti-American idea?

A. Oh, you can spend lots of money on experiences. People think a car will last and that’s why it will bring you happiness. But it doesn’t. It gets old and decays. But experiences don’t. You’ll “always have Paris” — and that’s exactly what Bogart meant when he said it to Ingrid Bergman. But will you always have a washing machine? No. Today, I’m going to Dallas to meet my wife and I’m flying first class, which is ridiculously expensive. But the experience will be far more delightful than a new suit. Another way I follow what I’ve learned from data is that I don’t chase dollars now that I have enough of them, because I know that it will take a very large amount of money to increase my happiness by a small amount.  You couldn’t pay me $100,000 to miss a play date with my granddaughters. And that’s not because I’m rich. That’s because I know that a hundred grand won’t make me as happy as nurturing my relationship with my granddaughters will.

Q. So you hold with the notion that “money can’t buy you happiness”?

A. I wouldn’t say that. The data says that with the poor, a little money can buy a lot of happiness. If you’re rich, a lot of money can buy you a little more happiness. But in both cases, money does it.

Gilbert’s responses interest me on several levels.  I haven’t done the scientific research he has, but my life experience tells me the same thing—friendship and community consistently prove more gratifying than money and material goods.  One would think money would free people up to spend more time with friends and family, but Gilbert points out Americans tend to sacrifice social relations to get money.

Americans’ tendency to sacrifice social relations to get money brings to mind a unique feature of Norway’s social welfare system.  In Norway (top income tax rate of 45%), each June, the government gives every taxpayer 12.5% of their salary from the previous calendar year for a July or August vacation. 

If your government did that, what would you do with your 12.5% vacation bonus?  Nearly all Norwegians use their vacation bonus to take extended vacations.  Major businesses completely shut down for up to three weeks.  Even the court system closes and all cases are postponed. 

In the United States, some of my friends say they can’t take even weeklong vacations because they would be buried under voice-mails and emails when they return and they’ve convinced themselves they can’t afford to make less money.  It would be naïve of me to think I’m unaffected by my friends’ choices and actions.  Hypothetically, no matter how high a priority friendship and community are to me, if all of my friends work all of the time, my friendship/community potential will be severely limited.  

Why are Americans prone to sacrifice social relations to get money?  Are we products of an advertising industry and national culture that makes happiness more elusive?

Gilbert’s point that experiences contribute more to happiness than durable goods also intrigues me.  Intellectually, I understand his argument, but I think about that continuum differently.  With his Harvard salary and book royalties, he’s probably far wealthier than me, but even compensating for that, I can’t quite wrap my head around his “flying first class” example.  I think it’s a stretch to compare flying first class with a week in Paris.  My question is why pay four times a regular ticket price for two to four of hours of relative comfort and service when no one says weeks, months, or years later, “Remember how comfortable and pleasant that Boston-Dallas flight was back in 08?”  Just like the hotel rooms we stay in for one night, we tend to forget both good and bad flights.  Is a $500 hotel room five times as nice as a $100 one?

And if for the poor, “a little money can buy a lot of happiness,” shouldn’t increased philanthropy factor into the “first class” decision-making process?  Don’t Gilbert and others, who are happy, like myself, have a moral responsibility to help the poor experience more security and happiness in their lives?

Related to that, I don’t accept Gilbert’s expensive suit argument because the suit shouldn’t get old and decay.  It might fall out of style, but setting that aside, I would think the suit would be a more lasting and gratifying purchase than a first class ticket, especially if it’s worn to social gatherings.  My personal “durable good philosophy” is the more I use the good, the more I’m willing to pay for it.  Therefore, I have no problem paying a premium for an Apple laptop, a nice mattress, and a quality road bike. 

Despite those differences, a closer reading of Gilbert’s second answer helps me better understand his argument and makes me think he has a better grip on this subject than me.  In my mind, the most profound thing he says is, “I don’t chase dollars now that I have enough of them.”  I wonder, why do so many wealthy people continue to chase dollars when positive psychologists suggest it takes very large amounts of it to increase happiness by small amounts?  Why do we sacrifice social relations for money?  Is it because we’re irrational?

Even though you shouldn’t waste your time looking for me in first class and you shouldn’t offer me $100k to miss a family function without having the suitcase of cash in hand, I aspire to be more like Gilbert.  I want to avoid mindlessly chasing dollars and instead embrace being a husband, father, educator, and friend. 

Listening versus Filling In

Posted on by
Reply

[Mea Culpa:  If you’re paying real close attention, you’ll notice I’ve deleted a recent post titled “Respect is Learned.”  In the post I told a story about one of my daughters without getting informed consent from her.  She asked me to remove it. ]

From Per Petterson’s novel, Out Stealing Horses, page 73:

“People like it when you tell them things, in suitable portions, in a modest, intimate tone, and they think they know you, but they do not, they know about you, for what they are let in on are facts, not feelings, not what your opinion is about anything at all, not how what has happened to you and how all the decisions you have made have turned you into who you are.  What they do is they fill in with their own feelings and opinions, and assumptions, and they compose a new life which has precious little to do with yours, and that lets you off the hook.”

In a beautifully written book, this is one of my favorite passages.  I often feel people know about me in the exact way Petterson describes.  People I interact with sometimes fill in with their own feelings and opinions, and assumptions; they compose a different life.  But if I’m honest with myself, I have to acknowledge I sometimes do that as well.

In the modern era in which we live, is impatient, incomplete listening inevitable as Petterson’s central character intimates, or can we learn to slow down, listen more carefully and patiently, and not fill in with our own feelings and opinions and assumptions?  Can we develop perspective-taking skills or are we destined to think what’s true for us is automatically true for everyone else too?

And does the burden for more in-depth communication lie exclusively with the listener?  What happens if people tire of others’ tendencies to compose a different life for them and gradually give up trying to communicate more than facts?  This happens to me.  When people fill in with their own feelings and opinions and assumptions, I consciously keep things superficial.  I suppose that’s true for everyone to differing degrees.

We should strive to listen more patiently and actively to those we interact with, while simultaneously persevering in communicating more than facts.

I created this blog because I don’t want to give up on close meaningful friendships simply because modernization has sped everything up and possibly compromised our listening skills.

On the surface, blogging is impersonal and superficial, but writing is a way for me to slow things down and reveal more than facts.  Whether that contributes to closer, more meaningful friendships, time will tell.  I hope so. 

Solitude

Posted on by
1

The quality or state of being alone or remote from society. 

The fam is on vacation visiting friends in Sweden.  I opted for solitude.  I’m somewhat enigmatic in that I enjoy interacting with my students, my family, and my friends, but simultaneously have a deep-seated, profound need to spend time alone.

My need for solitude has been tough at times for L to accept.  I appreciate that twenty years in, she’s getting it.  “Do you want to go to Sweden with us?  It would be more fun with you.”  “I don’t think so.”  “Okay.”  

So I alternate between being social and a loner, which may not be as paradoxical as it first appears.  I think of those tendencies as competing drives like the ebb and flow of the tides.  Without ebbing, or withdrawing from social environments, I wouldn’t have any sense of self or any insights into much of anything, and without any sense of self or insight, I don’t think I’d have much to contribute to social settings once re-engaged.  Being alone enables me to recharge my “human-interaction” battery.  Social interaction takes energy that can be invigorating, but sometimes for me, there’s a net loss of energy.

I opted for solitude because the last seven weeks have been intensely social.  The fam and I have gone from living four semi-disparate lives in a large home to living closely overlapping lives in an apartment.  And the next two months promise even more intense family time.  So this is a five day-long intermission from which all of us will benefit.

I know what I’m about to admit will cost me, but c’est la vie.  I like watching Booknotes on CSPAN.  In particular, I like listening to authors talk about their writing process.  A few years ago I was watching a Booknote interview with a writer who also taught writing at some university.  The interviewer asked the author, “What’s the single most important lesson you try to convey to your students?”  His answer was unexpected, but brilliant.  “Writing and solitude are inseparable.  Being a writer is a solitary existence.”  He went on to share his opinion that most of his students weren’t nearly comfortable enough with solitude to excel as writers.

Most writing instructors focus on the technical aspects of the process.  Solid fundamentals are important, but this author conceived of writing as a craft that is impossible to hone independent of self-understanding and insight.  Once again, this makes me think about personal technology.  I suspect people are growing less and less comfortable with solitude.  This may be particularly true of the youngest and most wired among us.  For example, like all 12 year olds probably, my youngest daughter bounces from friend to activity to friend to activity and back again.  Often, when no friends are available and there’s no activity to participate in, she goes into “What now?” mode.  

If my hunch is accurate that many young people are relatively uncomfortable with solitude, I wonder if it’s a result of adult-initiated over-scheduling.  If young people go from school, to sport1, to music, to sport2, to youth group or community service, and back again, when do they get comfortable spending quiet time by themselves?  And if they’re uncomfortable spending quiet time by themselves, how do they become introspective?  And if they don’t become introspective, how do they develop a distinct sense of self?  And without developing a distinct sense of self, how do they avoid mindlessly following the lead of their peers and the popular culture?

And guarding against over-scheduling is only part of the challenge.   Remember how idealistically I described my vision for our “Northern Retreat” in an earlier entry, in essence, the four of us spending inordinate amounts of time connecting on a deeper level.  In part, that’s been true, but note to self: wireless internet has radically changed things in the last five years.  Picture this.  On one laptop, one half of the family is in one room watching “America’s Next Top Model” on-line.  On another laptop, another member is watching an NCAA college basketball tournament game.  The third laptop doesn’t have a wireless card so the fourth family member is, gasp, reading a book. 

Simply put, there are differing degrees of solitude, some forms more enriching than others.  Meaningful solitude involves more than being alone.  Are you as alone if you’re by yourself listening to your iPod, watching “America’s Next Top Model” on-line, instant messaging, or all three at the same time?  Sometimes, when the stars align and I get an hour or two at home by myself, I don’t take full advantage because I watch a sports event for awhile and squander the remaining time on-line. 

However, a break of this length means I can take advantage of dinner and cross-country skiing invitations, watch some bball on-line, trim my email inbox, and still have plenty of time left over for being quiet, reflecting on things, writing, resting, and recharging.

And with each passing day, I’m looking more forward to my family’s return.

The Future of Friendship

Posted on by
2

Pretty dramatic spike in readership this week.  Thanks to those that are forwarding the link and welcome new readers.

To what degree, if at all, are your friendships enriched by your use of internet-based personal technologies?

At the University of Olso, a US Fulbright student is studying how mobile phones are impacting interpersonal relations in Norway.  She reports there are more mobile phones in Norway than citizens because a lot of people have both work and personal phones. 

Recently, I asked a 16-year old Norwegian how many text messages she sends a day.  “Since purchasing this phone three months ago,” she said while digging into her phone’s archive, “I’ve sent 10,600.”  You do the math.  In the meantime, while trying to write the last paragraph, I sent my first three text messages (the third message was simply “leave me alone”) to my daughters who find my incompetence amusing.

In late August a few years ago, I played 9 holes of golf with five entering PLU students as a part of orientation.  I played with two of the students and an orientation counselor played with three.  When my group finished, the other group was still on the 9th tee, a par 5.  I suggested to my playing partners that we wait to see how their round went so that we could connect one more time since the whole purpose of the activity was to help the students get to know one another.  Fifteen minutes later, as we walked off the green together, five of the six students instantaneously flipped open their phones and started talking to who, friends participating in other orientation activities somewhere else in Tacoma?  What did we wait for I wondered. 

I acknowledge that cell phones, text messaging, instant messaging, blogging, social network sites, iPods, blackberries, and gps devices are changing how we interact with one another, but are those technologies contributing to closer, more meaningful friendships?  As you’ve embraced these technologies, have there been trade-offs?

I feel out-of-step with most people who are enthusiastically embracing the whole gamut of internet-based devices.  I find email imminently helpful, and I’m enjoying blogging, but I’m skeptical of whether cell phones, texting, and social network sites are contributing much to people’s interpersonal relationships.

When it comes to these technologies, I’m not totally clueless, just partially.  My friends tell me they value their cell phones because they like keeping tabs on their children’s whereabouts, they like knowing they can reach someone quickly in case of an emergency, and they like the convenience of adjusting schedules on the fly. 

I turned 46 last week and maybe the mantra of the 60’s, never trust anyone over 40, applies here.  Given my recent rant about privacy and my techno-skepticism, I wonder, am I even older and moldier than my biological age suggests?  And if I’m a curmudgeon already, what does the future hold?

Add into the mix this excerpt from a recent Wall Street Journal article about the future of friendship:

“Technologies like text messaging and social networking have made it possible to keep track of a much larger group of people than ever before.  With built-in alerts, you can get a constant stream of information about your friends and what they’re doing.  In the future, more information will end up in your social network—and you’ll be able to send that information automatically to your friends, wherever they are.  ‘The opportunities to keep in touch with people are going to abound,’ says Fred Stutzman, a researcher at the University of North Carolina.  And as GPS hardware becomes more widespread, that information will follow wherever you go—literally.  You’ll be able to keep track of the physical whereabouts of your friends.  It will also get simpler to use all these services.  Today, you have to sign up for MySpace to reach MySpace users, sign up for Facebook to reach Facebook users, and so on.  Futurists predict that in 10 years, you’ll be able to reach anyone using any service on your computer or cell phone.”

As an undergrad I did poorly on my first economics exam and promptly changed the course to “pass/no pass.”  Somehow I passed, but it must have been a close call.  Ironically, despite doing poorly, I took several key concepts from that course—among them, scarcity, elasticity, opportunity cost, and the law of diminishing returns—that I continually return to both in my professional life as an educator and in my personal life.

The WSJ excerpt brings the law of diminishing returns to mind.  At what point does a person have so many friends that they can’t see them regularly, can’t keep up on their daily lives, and inevitably sacrifice intimacy? 

Despite all the technological advances, time isn’t expanding so our potential for close friendship is still limited. 

Since everyone is awake about the same amount of time, imagine everyone has approximately 50 “friendship credits” and friendships range from “1” acquaintance to “10” the most intimate friend.  One person might have 5 “level 10” friends, another might have 10 “level 5” friends, another, 25 “level 2” friends, and yet another 50 “level 1” friends.  Maybe a more likely friendship profile would consist of something like 3 level 10’s, 2 level 5’s, and 5 level 2’s.

Seems to me that in their seeming excitement about technological advances, the Wall Street Journal’s futurists slight basic sociological insights.  Technological advances will undoubtedly make staying in touch with more people even easier, but the trade-off will be intimacy because meaningful friendships will continue to require consistent face-to-face contact.

Check back with me in 2018, but over the next decade, I don’t foresee a single technological innovation contributing significantly to deeper, more meaningful friendships.

If I have to choose, and that’s my precise point, we all have to choose, I’d prefer a relatively small, low-tech circle of close friends to a much larger tech-based circle of acquaintances.  How about you?