American culture, American People., Culture, Media, Philosophy, Technology, United States

Epilogue

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“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” – Henry David Thoreau

Several weeks ago, my oldest child turned and asked me a question I’ve been secretly asking myself for months.

“Why haven’t you written anything lately, Dad?”

I stared blankly back at him, my mind firing off excuses – and truths – as to why I had not done any writing since January. I wanted to give a good answer, something philosophical perhaps.

“Just haven’t, buddy,” I said instead.

Wouldn’t Hemingway would be proud of that eloquent answer?

The truth is I kind of already knew why I had not put anything in this space since I bombastically quit Facebook in my last prose.

In fact, I had drafted about five or six pieces in the months since, but deemed them all too heavy, too poor in quality or just gave up out of lack of motivation to finish a post.

I had something on the horrible events in Las Vegas and our loss of humanity in these senseless moments, I had a piece on grief, a piece on Fake News, and one about all the trivial pursuits we chase in life.

And I shared them with no one.

If I’m honest with myself, the lack of writing over the past year is largely due to feeling like all I’d be doing is repeating the same narrative I’ve spent the last five years writing about: society, social media and the loss of identity (both self and national).

Was this writer’s block, or just boredom?

And then it struck me: This blog was really more like a book – or at minimum a long thesis – on a specific topic with chapters done in real time over the previous four or five years as posts. It’s garbled and not in actual hard copy form, and would require massive amounts of editing, a publisher and probably a hundred other things, but look! I wrote a book!

And any book, as such, deserves an epilogue. A director’s cut outtake of the proceedings. So, let’s let this entry serve as an epilogue to this site over the past four or five years.

Here’s why this thread has to stop for me: I am sick of myself when it comes to writing about social media and its impact on our culture. After all this time, I think I’ve made my feelings known.

But here’s why this topic captured me for such a long period of time: I believe what I write, or at least maybe just I want to. Above all, I want it to be genuine. As I’ve claimed many times, we are not the perfect robotic creations our social media feeds make us appear to be.

You see all the smiling photos, the congratulations, the “I’m so proud” comments, and miss the moments of breakdown in between where life is not nearly as pretty. Because life is not always pretty, and it cannot be hashtagged. And we are beautiful, inherently flawed, imperfect human beings.

And those imperfect human beings do horrible things to each other. Looking back, this began on my old blog, with the overly thought title of The Necker Cube. The site had been a platform for me to keep writing about sports after my sports writing career ended (columns, blogs, magazine).

But I grew tired of the sports narrative and the Sandy Hook tragedy caught my attention in such a moving and painful way that I felt compelled to comment on it.

(Note: if you click on some of the older links to these posts, be aware they were pulled from said former site and have not been edited for spacing – i.e. the lines run on strangely).

The entry prior to a post on the events at Sandy Hook, called The Growing Divide, was first entry in this so-called book. And the archives show a writer flipping back and forth for a time between social commentary and traditional sports commentary. Sometimes I even mixed the two.

And then the Boston Marathon bombing happened and I began thinking about Switzerland. I dealt with the backlash of the Ice Bucket Challenge, and Miley Cyrus leading a mini-Molly revolution of “we do what we want” angst.

There was the time I wrote about (one of probably 20 times I did) how we’d become obsessed through social media of giving our opinion on someone’s else’s opinion (what a wormhole). I spent some time holding us accountable. And gave that narrative some additional thoughts. Basically, a lot of it can be solved with kindness.

But I also tried to unwrap the media’s growing fascination with itself and the media’s ever-expanding use of rumors and unnamed sources. All this in an effort to be first – or to incite ratings and division. And we spend a lot of time being divided. There are also the times when the media blurs the lines of reporting, journalism and the monetary backers propping up these outlets.

Part of my problem has been that I just did not want to see us get swallowed by the groupthink and mob mentality. We’ve spent a lot of time on selfies and allowing ourselves to be marginalized. And that bubbling melting pot has been on the verge of boiling over. In fact, one of my last pieces in this series was after the election (and was the second-most read post I’ve ever made at 1,100 views).

Sadly, it has gotten worse – somehow.

Yet, some of my favorite pieces were about my own family and life in raising a large family during this small era. At times, it was like a dark comedy, cause you have to just laugh at the absurdity of it all. At others, it was a serious test of the blurred lines between media responsibility and parenting, with a key example of a Super Bowl Sunday that went in a direction I did not expect. And there was a life-changing family moment that has ripples personally to this day, that many can relate to: the loss of a loved one. (That one, by far the most popular thing I’ve ever written, has garnered over 1,200 reads to date.)

The biggest takeaway? Be present in your life. Put the phone down, maybe not all the time, because that might be unrealistic in late 2017. But being more aware of your surroundings and engage. A couple weeks ago, we had friends over and I’m not sure the four of us looked at our phones the entire night other than to play music. It was glorious.

Over 2.8 billion people are on social media, 1.9 billion on Facebook alone. And roughly 75 percent of all Facebook users spend at least 20 minutes per day on the platform.

It is a trap to make your life appear only as these shared snapshots of happiness. That has an impact on you – and those in your social media sphere.

First, it creates an illusion of you that cannot be sustained. You come to believe in all the “good” so much so that when something even remotely troubling happens, it becomes earth-shattering. All the while, what you were posting and sharing about yourself was a grand illusion, one that you bought into as much as everyone else. We seem to only care if people look, not if they actually see.

Secondly, to those in your sphere, it creates an illusion that they subconsciously cannot compete with either. I am not terribly certain when exactly this occurred in social media, but it’s certainly there, and there is really no denying it.

An opposing view might hold that it is equally unrealistic to expect people to post “bad” things, for fear of being viewed a malcontent or someone just out for sympathy. And there’s probably truth to that, too.

But when it is all said and done, do any of these things matter? If I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that I will be far more prone to wishing I had five more minutes with my children, my wife, my family and friends that I will wishing I’d let my two cents on Fake News be known.

All that said…you cannot starve yourself of the things that make you you, to go too long without doing what you enjoy. The reason I haven’t been writing is because, well, I haven’t been writing. But I now realize that’s just because I need a new topic. The longer it goes without writing, the farther that piece of me gets away from who I am today.

I must find a new voice in my writing. Because the social media shaming shtick – while still valid – has been played out in this space. And my hope is this post serves as my last reference, my epilogue, to that being an ill of the world.

In a way, I think we all need to change our voice and find new passions and interests existing alongside our old ones.  You can still be you, but life is meant to be explored and pushed, not compartmentalized.

We called our ancestors settlers, but really that isn’t accurate at all. We are the settlers. Settling in and doing the same old things, without pushing ourselves to be a part of a solution – either just for ourselves (and what ails us spiritually, mentality or physically) – or for the greater world we’re a part of.

I reject that notion that we must settle within ourselves and wait for something to happen. This year, I am thankful for a lot of what I’m always thankful for. But maybe I just take it less for granted that I did before.

After a year of searching, I realize I’ll always be searching in small ways, big ways and all the ways in between.

As the quote at the top states, from Thoreau: “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”

So maybe I will find a new voice soon and keep writing. Or maybe I won’t.

One thing is for certain: It is definitely more about the journey – and what we see – than it is what we are looking at.

Time to reawake my soul, open my eyes to see.

Onward – and upward – we go.

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American culture, American People., Society & Culture

Less Than Super Sunday

For many, Super Bowl XLIX will always be about the game, the way in which it ended and the enduring legacies of the key participants on both sides.

For me, it will always be about the moment I understood the complexities of being a parent. With four children and a fifth on the way, perhaps that moment should have come sooner. Alas, maybe it is only now that I fully understand it.

In many ways, especially as someone who was rooting for the villainous New England Patriots, I wish the game would remain tucked away in the recesses of my memories as one that solidified Tom Brady as the NFL’s greatest quarterback (purely an opinion). I’d like to remember his nearly perfect fourth quarter, bringing the Patriots back from 10 points down and collecting a record-tying fourth Super Bowl ring.

I’d like to vaguely recall in 20 years the look of horror on Richard Sherman and Pete Carroll when that pass was intercepted – but only because it serves as a reminder of how sports can change on a dime, how cruel they can be and how nothing is guaranteed in life (pretty much fact).

And perhaps I will remember all of these things. But I also know that I will remember more about the commercials than anything else. The ads themselves might not be that memorable, but I am certain to not forget the reactions in our house to them.

Especially those of my 8-year-old daughter.

Perhaps it was my fault. I had hyped the game to our precocious second-oldest – and only girl – for hours. The boys and my wife were easy, they were ready for four hours of football’s grandest theatrics and for what would ensue – their father hollering at the TV and cheering wildly for a team that no one else in our area liked.

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And man, she was all in. Wearing a throwback Welker jersey from her brother’s closet, our daughter placed herself in a chair next to me and basically did not move – or wasn’t allowed to – for the duration of the game.

Dad’s superstitious nature kicked in just briefly after kickoff. Every Patriots first down, I ran the room and high-fived, in order, our oldest son (12), the youngest son (3), my wife and then returned to give the biggest, double high-five to our daughter before sitting the exact same way we had the play before. (Meanwhile, our 6-year-old son went back in for the between the iPad and the game and playing with toys. Sigh. I took what I could get.)

She squeezed my arm on big third downs, asked all kinds of questions about the rules and the game and cheered to please us at first, then later because she seemed to actually, briefly, kinda care.

Soon, this became as entertaining as the game. My daughter and I were enjoying a bonding moment within the bonding moment of our family.

As the game stayed tight and tension mounted, we were all glued to the TV.

Which included the commercials.

It began with the dead-child Nationwide commercial in the second quarter and ran right on through to the game’s end, specifically, Always #LikeAGirl, Victoria’s Secret and the 50 Shades of Grey trailer.

There is no one way to adequately describe the confusion on a child’s face in, what for a parent, is an awkward moment. There is also not a great way to address the confusion without convoluting it further and getting more questions.

“Why is the boy dead?”

“Why didn’t the parents stop the bath water?”

“I don’t run like that. That’s not funny.”

“Are they making fun of girls?”

“She’s not wearing very many clothes.”

“Those people are kissing a lot and kissing really weird.”

Thanks, guys. Really, just a bang-up job, advertisers. Why didn’t you just air a commercial debunking Santa Claus or an documentary on where babies come from?

And look, n the heels of a national discussion (again) on if athletes are role models and how they are not the parents, there’s Marshawn Lynch grabbing his crotch again. And if he wasn’t, people were talking about it.

Stating the obvious: My wife and I raise our children. No one else. Ultimately, how they turn out is a far greater reflection on us than it is society in general. Yet in being a parent, you’d like to shield them from certain topics and situations for as long as possible, because, as science has proven, their minds just are not ready for it yet.

And it is a simple fact that kids are influenced by their peers, other family members and yes, who they see in movies and on television. You know how I know this? Because I was a kid once. I wore the shoes, rolled the jeans. I acted like my favorite players on the court or diamond.

Back in the 1990s, we had a whole Gatorade campaign centered on “Being Like Mike” for goodness sakes. It was aimed at kids.

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Advertising has not changed who it targets, but the topics and the boundaries of those messages have changed.

I have heard it described like this: we urge caution with young athletes lifting weights, noting how the body structure of a 14-year-old is not meant to handle too much lifting because the frame cannot handle the weight. The same is true for the brain. An 8-year-old is can comprehend more than a 6-year-old, but not as much as say a 12-year-old.

These ads, geared towards adults, are viewed by kids who simply cannot contextually understand them. From what the ads mean, to what they infer. They may contain a message, but the absorption of that message is varies widely based upon the receiver.

And we simply do not care.

As eyes begin to roll of readers who fear I’m just complaining or bemoaning something else in society, I’d venture to say you don’t have children. You’d suggest we turn it off, that we have a choice in the matter, that the media does not raise and influence my child.

Some may say that we’ve always had this (though, as noted above, there is a significant difference in “Being Like Mike” and talking about the ghost of a kid whose parents were either a) neglectful or b) neglectful and without Nationwide’s accidental home prevention training.)

My response to this is humble and contrite: it is the right of my wife and I to determine if and when we talk about these issues or topics. They normally don’t see these ads, because our children are not normally up  past 8:45-9:00pm. But the Super Bowl is anything but normal.

I’d rather not be forced to address my daughter’s self-esteem during the Super Bowl because the ad #LikeAGirl – a positive message overall – was viewed incorrectly in the eyes of an 8-year-old simply because she was eight and thought they were making fun of her.

“I don’t run like that, Daddy.”

“I don’t throw like that, either.”

No amount of “I know you don’t” or “that’s not what they meant” could remove the furrowed brow of my little girl. She just didn’t understand the point. In her eyes, she didn’t even know there was a image issue to begin with. But hey, thanks Always for putting it out there.

Is it the advertiser’s responsibility to control the message? At the very least, perhaps a little?

The same as Marshawn Lynch grabbing his crotch with millions of young football players watching him, he controls the message. I can tell my kids that something is wrong or not right, but the follow-up is the same as it was 25 years ago when I was a kid: “But why does he get to do it?

Explaining six figure fines doesn’t really address that question, either.

I can defend Lynch over not speaking to the media. It does little harm and makes a mockery of what the current sports media has become. Any reporter who can tell you with a straight face they need Marshawn Lynch to write a story about the NFL, Super Bowl XLIX or the Seattle Seahawks is a reporter who is not very good at their job. Write something else, don’t give him the attention and move on.

But I cannot defend or pretend to agree with lewd gestures as an alternate sign of rebellion to the league. Kids don’t know or get that. All they see is the action, not the message.

To Marshawn Lynch, Charles Barkley before him – and all the athletes in between who feel they are not role models, I remain disappointed. No, you are not the role model for my kids. Yes, my wife and I should be and hopefully are. But it is naïve and irresponsible to pretend you are not at minimum an influencer of children everywhere who watch you play and want to be like you. It comes with the millions of dollars, the fans and the fame. They may not know you, but they know you can play and play well.

Show some decency, respect yourself and others with your actions. Athletes demand respect all the time, then do little to earn it with actions such as these. Don’t ask us to embrace you and cheer for you, then pretend to poop out the football.

Similarly, these companies and ad agencies hold the power to do a delicate balance of creative marketing and societal responsibility.

Run your child death ad at 10pm on a Tuesday night, Nationwide. Otherwise, you are anything but on my side. If my kid is awake and watching, that one is on me.

But they knew the reaction the ad would draw, they knew it would spike Twitter trends, Google searches. They knew the value of the ad would increase significantly with that kind of ad, in that moment and the kind of reaction it would garner.

There is no great call to arms coming here. Not this time. I don’t have a solution for something the majority of us do not see as a problem.

I just have disappointment.

My only hope is my daughter remembers the high fives and not the commercials.

Maybe someday, I will too.

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