Guess I Should Buy An Axe

Unless you’ve been backpacking in a remote wilderness the past few years, you’ve heard some part of the increasingly heated discussion around masculinity. The starting point, as a Washington Post headline writer recently put it is, “Men are lost”.

Christine Emba’s July 10th article, “Men are lost. Here’s a map out of the wilderness” has received lots of positive attention. Slightly different than her headline writer, Emba’s starting point is young men’s “weirdness”.  Whether “lost” or “weird” the suggestion is that a positive vision of masculinity is the way forward. Men will be less lost and weird when we recognize some gender distinctiveness without pathologizing differences.

“For all their problems,” Emba writes, “the strict gender roles of the past did give boys a script for how to be a man. But if trying to smash the patriarchy has left a vacuum in our ideal of masculinity, it also gives us a chance at a fresh start. . .”. She adds, “We can find ways to work with the distinctive traits and powerful stories that already exist—risk-taking, strength, self-mastery, protecting, providing, procreating. We can recognize how real and important they are. And we can attempt to make them pro-social—to help not just men but also women, and to support the common good.”

All quite vague, making the reference to a “map” just one more example of headline exuberance.

Further along, Emba gets slightly more specific. “In my ideal,” she adds, “the mainstream could embrace a model that acknowledges male particularity and difference that doesn’t denigrate women to do so. It’s a vision of gender that’s not androgynous but still equal, and relies on character, not just biology. And it acknowledges that certain themes—protector, provider, even procreator—still resonate with many men and should be worked with, not against.”

Since most gender differences are exaggerated, I propose a radical approach to this discussion and that is chucking the concept of masculinity altogether. Instead of ruminating on what it means to be a boy or a man, we’d be better off encouraging young people to “cut and paste” from caring and kind human beings across the gender continuum. Notice how they listen. Consider their sense of humor. Notice their humility. Reflect on their quiet strength. Nothing positive comes from thinking about gender as a competition of sorts.

In Emba’s piece, Scott Galloway, whose podcasts I enjoy, says, “Where I think this conversation has come off the tracks is where being a man is essentially trying to ignore all masculinity and act more like a woman. And even some women say that—they don’t want to have sex with those guys. They may believe they’re right, and think it’s a good narrative, but they don’t want to partner with them.”

For being a UCLA grad, Galloway struggles with subtlety and nuance. The patriarchy is so pervasive, some women are hopelessly wedded to it. Many others are not. Galloway’s reference to “acting more like a woman” implies women are the kinder, more caring, more nurturing, and more emotionally intelligent half of the population.

I can cycle up and down mountains, lift weights, and climb on the roof and clean the gutters while trying to listen to others more patiently and empathetically. All while trying to be more vulnerable on top. The touchy-feely stuffs probably excites the Good Wife at least as much as the physical activities which come more naturally to me.

If asked, she’d probably say, “Why should I have to choose between those things?” My entire point is that women shouldn’t.

One tongue-in-cheek commenter in an expectedly mindless on-line discussion on what masculinity entails had a great response. “Everything is there except wood chopping,” he joked. You are not a man until you fell a tree with an axe, split the wood and heat the house with it.”

At least I think he was joking.

KD is Alright

And Taishi Ito is more than alright.

We never really know the athletes, actors, and other public figure’s whose work we enjoy. With that caveat, I liked early Kevin Durant, the one who talked lovingly about his mom when he was named the NBA’s Most Valuable Player in 2014.

Since then, he has gotten incredibly prickly, or maybe surly is the better word. Sensitive to criticism, the more he received, the more surly he became.

And then I read this Ryan Hockensmith piece, “The year (and friendship) that changed Kevin Durant forever” and I’m back to giving KD the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure that news will make his day.

Friendship first.

Speaking of Economic Classes

This year, a 30 second Super Bowl commercial cost $7m. How much airtime could you have bought? If you have saved $1m, you could’ve aired your own 4.3 second commercial. What would you have said and how would you have said it?

I would’ve projected the world’s most important url on the screen without any audio . . . pressingpause.com.

Alas, I suspect the network was only selling advertising spots in 30 second increments, so you and I would have had to partner with six other people willing to pitch in $1m. And I don’t know if my friends are rich enough. Because we don’t talk about money.

Talk To Strangers

NPR reports on recent research by The Harvard Business School which found that people with a mix of weak and strong social ties report higher levels of happiness and wellbeing. Their main take-away? Talk to strangers.

When asked if they talk to strangers, two New Yorkers, Ashley Bice and Mike Jones, unwittingly provided a tutorial for people like me who are slow to chat up strangers.

“ASHLEY BICE: One thing I love about our neighborhood. . . is you can go to a grocery store and have a conversation with someone. I think, especially after the few years that we’ve all been through, it’s nice just to have interaction.

MIKE JONES: Oh, I go to the corner store or whatever, and I talk to somebody. And we’ll be talking about basketball, talking about Bud, tequila, drinks. It doesn’t even matter. We just spark a conversation. And you’re like, all right, yo, I’m going to holler at you. I’m out. And then, that next time I see him at the corner store, it just goes from one – point A to point B, and you just end up chilling on whatever – you know? – just vibing.”

Rest in Peace V

In the summer of 1999, I met Ken Valanais, or “V”, in a San Fransisco airport conference room. He was a social studies middle school teacher from Winnipeg, Manitoba. Thanks to a Japanese business/civic foundation, we were traveling to Japan to learn about the country so that we could integrate aspects of it into our teaching. At a SFO hotel, we took turns presenting our planned curriculum writing projects. Most of the twenty plus participants were K-12 teachers from the U.S. and Canada, a few, like me, were egghead professors.

After V’s presentation I walked right up to him and said something to the effect of, “That was the single best presentation of all. Your topic is highly relevant, your presentation was unusually clear, and best of all, you were wonderfully succinct. Great job.”

From that point forward, we were brothers. V hadn’t traveled outside of North America. He was more comfortable calling balls and strikes, watching Red Green, and fishing on the ice. It didn’t show, but he was nervous and a bit insecure when the egghead offered his effusive praise.

Throughout the trip, we took turns acting out all in the interest of laughs. Truth be told, he was a big middle schooler and I revert to my Lexington Lion self with ease.

By the trip’s end, we were bonded so much that we stayed in touch, even visiting in Victoria, B.C. eight years ago. A couple of times a month he’d email me and it would take me awhile to get back, but I always did. His messages were longer and more creative. He never cared about delays or brevity because I was his boy. Whenever a month would pass without our usual back-and-forth, he’d initiate. Every. single. time.

A month ago, it dawned on me that his ribald, pun-filled, sports missives had reached peak form. I told him he deserved a much bigger audience than me. He could’ve won Twitter or the blogosphere if he had tried.

Five years ago cancer struck. V was transparent about the battle, which he eventually won. So I was devastated to get this message from his wife a few days ago, “I have some very sad news to pass on to you.  Ken passed away unexpectedly last night at 9:30 p.m., one day shy of his 70th birthday.  He had been experiencing some breathing problems and had passed out on me twice.  Was being treated in the hospital for blood clots to the lungs.  . . They tried everything they could with using blood thinners and clot busters but nothing worked.”

Dammit V, way too early. How am I supposed to keep up with women’s curling now? My post-V world is a lot less fun and funny.

Except for the start, he played his last sports update to me fairly straight. V, from Canada’s heartland:

My Fans, especially the female ones, enjoy the “Cunning Linguist” style of my diatribes.

Tonight, I’m going Basic.

MLB

ALCS…. I don’t like the Yankees. I don’t like the Astros. Apparently, they don’t like each other. I’d like to see a Brawl in da Bronx this weekend.

NLCS…. I don’t like the Padre uniforms. I like the Phillies, their uniforms, and the Sports Scene in their city. The Eagles and Flyers are doing well. The Fans are Loud and Proud!

NASCAR

Joey Logano won the last race, and will be 1 of only 4, who can win the Championship this season. I’m fine with that, however he passed Ross Chastain for the win. If Ross joins the Final Four, that would be Cool.

Bubba Wallace attacked Kyle Larson, and has been suspended. That’s Good NASCAR, right there!

NHL

Hopefully, the Seattle fans are excited. The Winnipeg fans are getting more positive. I’m gonna wait a month or so. The ‘Peg is gonna be Hoppin’ on Saturday Night. The Jets host the Toronto Maple Leafs. It should be a Dandy. Son #1 will attend the game, wearing a Leafs jersey under his Jets jersey. He takes this stuff pretty seriously.

Oh yeah, Curling Season has started. The Kaitlin Lawes team from Wpg is very talented, and very pregnant. The skip is in her 8th month, and her 3rd is in her 4th. They’re in for quite a season.

V(as deferens)

Man, I miss you V. Rest in peace, rest in peace.

On The Tone Of One’s Voice

Late last week, armed only with a headlamp while on an early morning run, I approached the col de Merc (antile Store) in pitch blackness. I vaguely saw something coming right at me in the middle of the lux bike lane, but couldn’t make it out until it got closer. It was a speeding bro dressed in very dark clothes on a very dark bike. He had just descended the col de Merc and was flying when I yelled “GET A LIGHT!” at him. He didn’t u-turn to (try to) kick my ass because he had headphones in.

Maybe he took the Mariners-Astros series too hard and wanted to end it.

Fast forward to yesterday’s early morning pitch black run. I could feel a car behind me as I turned into our hood so I made sure to hug the left shoulder so they had ample room for their left-hand turn. A middle aged man driving a beater Nissan Sentra pulled up right next to me and rolled down his window. “Okay,” I said to myself, “it’s on like Donkey Kong.” Ask Dan, Dan, the Transpo Man, when my heart rate is elevated, I sometimes morph from chillaxed pacifist to too easily triggered numbskull.

He had a kind look on his face and his soft voice was that of a Zen Buddhist. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know, you’re really hard to see from behind.” It wasn’t so much what he said, but HOW he said it. His tone conveyed genuine concern for my well-being.

When I yelled at my dark, speeding, headphoned “friend”, my tone was way, way more self-regarding. “Don’t be an arse,” my shout conveyed, “you easily coulda ran me over.”

Think about how you say things, and be the Zen Buddhist driver, not me.