On Saturday night my wife and I were sitting outside on our deck, sipping a cold beer, our chauffer duties done for the evening. All our kids were at home and we didn't have a single guest sleeping over.
At some point we ended up reminiscing about the TV shows we loved as kids, and the stuff our kids loved when they were little and we were laughing as we tried to remember the lyrics to specific songs from Disney movies and Sesame Street, and doing Kermit, Grover and Ernie voices. (Okay maybe we had two beers.)
I grew up with Sesame Street as did my wife and we delighted in trying to sing our favorite songs to each other. As you would expect for songs we first learned almost 40 years ago there were lines we remembered perfectly and others we had all wrong. It was a great moment of nostalgia trying to reconstruct our earliest childhood TV memories. But it was driving me crazy that I couldn't remember this one song with Ernie and Bert.
So I grabbed my iPhone, fired up YouTube, and 30 seconds later we were watching Ernie dance himself to sleep while Bert was carried away by tap-dancing sheep.
And then a really weird Sesame Street song, which nobody seems to remember, but I always have.
The lowercase n song.
My first reaction was that they clearly did not have a drug-testing policy at Sesame Street. My second thought was about the amazing technological advances that allowed me to pull up a forty year old video on a battery powered device I carry in my pocket, search a global network in milliseconds and watch a high quality video that I had originally watched in B/W, all while sitting outside on my deck.
But these days, whenever I have one of those "isn't technology amazing" moments, I find myself pondering the implications of that technology in the context of people (my kids) who have only ever lived in a world where it was always this way.
You see, as wired as I am in my everyday life, it was still an aha moment for me that I could re-experience a distant childhood memory as easily as pulling up an email.
Maybe that makes me an idiot, it's not like I didn't enjoy watching a Barney Miller episode on TV Land a couple weeks ago, and I have a full collection of Schoolhouse Rock on DVD, but somehow this was different. Maybe because Sesame Street was virtually the only TV I watched until age ten or so. I should say Public Television, cause I was also watching Mr. Rogers neighborhood, Electric Company and Zoom. And of course Schoolhouse Rock on Saturday mornings. These memories are burned in deep.
So what happens when, in your world, all your memories, photos, favorite movies or TV shows, when all of that is available as easily as watching your 1st grade dance recital or last night's American Idol? When watching a movie is always an "on demand" experience. When their whole lives are "on demand" experiences.
What happens to nostalgia in an "on demand" world? What happens to memories?
Merriam Webster's dictionary defines nostalgia as: a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition
Compared to any people who have ever lived, my kids and yours have unprecedented access to the memories of their lives. Where I have a handful of pictures of myself growing up, my kids have thousands per year, five hundred from a typical vacation across 4 cameras. Videos of dance recitals and school plays and Christmas morning are all online. If they want to see themselves at 6 years or 8 years, or playing soccer, or their third birthday they can. Not to mention being able to watch almost anything that's ever been on TV on their computer.
Watching my kids, they are seamlessly integrated into an online, "on demand" world. Every part of their lives is online or supported online. School lives, social lives, entertainment. They definitely re-watch a lot of older video content and they love making picture books of them when they were young. They mix the old and the new on a single screen and make no distinction. If they want it, they can probably get it.
So here's my question:
Will the availability of all this information change the way their brains prioritize the formation of memories?
Will they burn the same memories that we did of events? Or will their brains give them a pass on details because they saw the the flash-bulbs and the red light and know the whole thing is being recorded in 1080p?
I'm not talking about a conscious decision to not remember details, but an unconscious, internal brain decision not to store everything because it knows the info is available "on demand."
Before you answer consider for a moment how many phone numbers or email addresses you actually know of your closest friends and family. If you are over 30 years old you know what I'm talking about. We used to have a whole bunch of phone numbers memorized.
How many phone numbers do you really know by heart?
The numbers are all programmed into our phones, and have been for at least five or six years now. Our brains have gotten used to the fact that the info will be there when we need it, so it's ok to not memorize it. And in half a decade we trained ourselves to not remember phone numbers that we used to remember, because we know we can get them "on demand."
I recently started getting birthday reminders from Facebook served up in an early morning email every day, and I'm sure that after another lap around the sun I will come to rely on Facebook instead of actually remembering the dates.
This is not an anti-technology rant by any means. I like my address book and Facebook birthday reminders, and I like being able to find things on YouTube.
But I do wonder what will happen inside the brains of people who have always lived in a world where they don't HAVE to remember phone numbers and birthdays and the lyrics to the theme song from Cheers because it is all available "on demand."
Ok, I realize that isn't groundbreaking, but as a heavy user of the internet going back to the days of dial-up, it is nonetheless a milestone for me.
Sure I have talked about selling things online. Talked about it for years. I have a sizable collection of stuff in my basement that has escaped donation solely because I have promised myself (and more importantly my wife) that I would sell it one day.
But selling stuff online is not as easy as buying stuff online. Sure it's easier than having a garage sale, but it still takes a bit of effort, and before this weekend I never actually made the effort.
Then my wife realized that we had $800 worth of high-school textbooks aging in a closet. And with new editions coming out almost every year, it was possible that that pile of books would be completely worthless if we didn't act soon.
After 6 months of increasingly frustrated reminders Showing great initiative, I sprang into action this past weekend, set up a seller account on Amazon and started entering ISBN codes for the textbooks. The process was straightforward, and amazingly within 48 hours I received an email notification that one of the books had been purchased.
I printed out the buyers address and with some help managed to address an envelope and put postage on it. Thanks Liz. A couple minutes ago the mail guy picked up the package.
I am a peddler of used textbooks an internet retailer!
I used to read the Chicago Tribune first thing every morning and that's how I got all my news until 10pm. Now I skim 4-5 different news aggregation services all day long, on my laptop, on my iPhone. If an elevator door doesn't open immediately, I have probably checked the news.
I used to go to the comics page of that same newspaper and check out Dilbert every day. Now I go to Dilbert.com once or twice a month and catch up.
I used to watch television shows when they were on and arranged my schedule around them. Then I got TiVo and what night shows were on didn't matter so much.
Now I wait until I have heard consistent, positive input about a show from a variety of friends and then get DVD's from Netflix and catch up on whole seasons in a couple days.
Kind of an interesting study in time-shifting. Some things went from daily to minute to minute. Others went from daily to bi-monthly. And some of my "new" favorite television shows are in their 3rd or 4th season or even canceled.
I wonder what this list will look like in five more years?
For the longest time I thought about the word creative as an adjective, as in, “she’s so creative.” Creative described people who liked to think a lot, look at different perspectives, come up with innovative ideas. Creative people see things a bit different from everyone else and are fun to be around. Off the wall ideas are more likely to be described as creative.
Creative was an adjective that described the person or the idea. And it was totally subjective.
But lately I have been struck that this is not really the nature of creativity. Don’t get me wrong; novel ideas are definitely important for the creative process. But I had the wrong part of speech when I thought of creative as an adjective.
Creative doesn't describe the person or the idea, it describes what they do. (don't get all grammatical on me)
A creative person creates things. Painters, writers, musicians, filmmakers, designers, architects, developers, marketers, are easy to imagine, but creative can exist in every job, or not. Or completely outside their job. The measure of creativity is the creation of something new, not the imagining of it.
The thinking, the imagining is just a means to an end.
I work for a creative marketing agency, and the other day I was in our storeroom and found myself looking around at all the artifacts on the shelves. The company started as a video production shop and there are literally hundreds maybe thousands of tapes of various formats that are a window into the history of the organization. I walked around and read the names off one tape after another and tried to imagine the story behind each. Some of these tapes go back 21 years.
As I read the various titles and dates I had a profound sense of what it means to be creative.
To commit yourself to create something that didn’t exist before. To actually make it happen. And then to put it on the shelf, to move on and create something else.
Lather, rinse, repeat. Forever.
Creative doesn't describe what a person is, it describes what a person does.
So I ask all of you reading this who consider yourselves creative.
Are you happy with what are you creating? What's on your shelf?
When was the last time you heard a busy signal? Not a network congestion message or bad connection on a cell phone. But the good old fashioned sound of a busy signal. Click to refresh your memory busy.wav
Is there even an analog for the busy signal today? It used to mean I'm busy talking to somebody else, so I can't talk to you. Call me back later.
Do we even have that anymore?
If I can't reach you I leave a voice mail, or send an email, or use IM, or text you. In any case I got through to you and the responsibility has transferred to you now to get back to me, using any of the above options.
The only thing I can think of that is even a little bit like a busy signal is when you get an error message saying your email couldn't be delivered.
Some other phrases that I propose can be officially retired:
Pull over, I have to make a call.
There is a line for the pay-phone.
Free coffee.
Call us toll-free.
Color television.
I don't have any cash because I couldn't get to the bank.
Now I'm going to take the phone off the hook so I can take a nap....call back later.
A couple days ago I received an email that really got me thinking. Actually it was an email from me written exactly one year earlier. Using a free service called FutureMe.org you can write an email and have it delivered to yourself in the future. This is not a reminder service, the minimum length of time between writing and delivery is 6 months.
Think of this more as a digital time capsule. Very easy to use, no digging up the backyard...
One year ago I was wrestling with a potential career change, lot's of internal debate about my next steps. I knew I had to make a decision, but it was a big enough one that it couldn't be rushed. The subject line in the futureme email was "so what did you end up doing?" And when I opened it and read what I was thinking a year earlier, it all came rushing back to me. I updated the message with what's going on in my life now, and forwarded it out another year into the future.
The fascinating thing is asking a question that your future you will know the answer to, that your present you doesn't and can't possibly know.
I am also starting to write future emails to my kids, telling them about everything they are doing right now and how they are growing up and what their favorite things are. I will have these delivered in 5 years when my eldest, just an 8th grader today, will be in college.
What questions should I ask her? So what college did you pick? Do you still want to be an actress? Did you learn to play guitar?
Try it, write a note to your future you. What question do you want to ask yourself, that your future you will almost certainly know the answer to?
It's interesting when you think of the future this way. What email
address will you still be checking in 5 years? Don't use a work
address, or one tied to a specific Internet service provider. I'm sticking with my gmail address.
What devices will you be using 5 years from now? Unless you bought
the very first version, you haven't had an iPod for much more than 5
years.
Maybe that's the first question; "where are you, and on what device are you reading this?"
What are the moments you remember most clearly in your career/life? The ones you can play back in slow motion and hear every word, remember what you were thinking, maybe what you were wearing. Take a moment and think about it.
Is there a common thread? A common emotion?
I am truly a "positive outlook" person, and have definitely had more than my fair share of good memories that bring a smile to my face. I have also had plenty of setbacks. But truth be told, nearly all of my really vivid memories are of low intensity screw-ups.
Common thread, common emotion for me is embarrassment.
The punch line delivered backwards. (have you heard about the Polish lesbian? she likes women..no wait men) Calling someone you know by the wrong name. (sorry Janice) Sweating excessively. (too many to count) Wearing un-matched shoes. Forgetting to pack a tie for an important sales trip. I could go on.
My big screw-ups and big successes are all like an MTV music video in my memory. Lots of different images, moments, flashes of experience, mixed together and probably exaggerated to make the stories better.
But the embarrassing moments exist in my mind exactly as they happened. Neither embellished, nor diminished. Perfect reproductions, able to elbow their way into my consciousness at any time, often randomly right before falling asleep.
And they don't have to be obviously embarrassing. My embarrassment does not in fact require that anyone else notices. I have gone back and talked about some of my embarrassing experiences with people who were there, and they couldn't remember a single aspect of the event or conversation. But I did. And still do.
Is embarrassment the emotion that triggers the long-term memory hormone? Or is it just me?
Yesterday I ate an entire meal using chopsticks. This was not my first time; I have successfully used chopsticks 5-6 times in the past month, but only at home. Yesterday I put my new skill to the test at PF Cheng's.
I don't know why I never learned to use chopsticks. I have tried many times since I was probably ten years old, but I couldn't get the hang of it and my hand would cramp and that would be that. Besides, I'm pretty darn good with a fork. But a month ago, I decided I wanted to learn to use chopsticks.
Thanks for making it this far, this is not a post about chopsticks, it's a post about goals.
I am discovering a real joy from setting and achieving small goals. Not a to-do list of tasks, or a "bucket list" of things to do before I die. Just picking something that I want to do, and then doing it. Micro-goals. Things you can accomplish in a few days or weeks.
Using chopsticks, eating sushi and writing this blog are all things that I decided to start doing in the past 60 days, mostly just to see if I could. I find it to be truly satisfying, no matter the size of the goal.
For some great goal ideas, and suggestions on achieving them check out 43Things
I have two things that I do every time I fly. As I board, I always knock three times on the outside of the airplane. I did it once about fifteen years ago, and it quickly became a habit. Not too long ago I had my hands full getting on to a plane and couldn't make the knock happen, and as I got to my seat I began to worry that I had broken my routine. Not OCD worry, but it did intrude on my thoughts for much of the flight.
This is clearly an acquired superstition. But it works for me, doesn't hurt anyone, and frequently earns me a knowing smile or a comment from the flight attendant greeting passengers at the door. Turns out most of them have little superstitious rituals that they do too.
The second thing I do is as I depart the plane I say, "thank you, nice job guys" to the pilots. It doesn't matter whether it was a smooth flight, or an on-time departure, or I'm going out or coming home. I always thank the pilots.
And although I do this every time I am on a plane, I do not consider this to be a superstition. This is a strategy. The way I see it I want pilots to feel appreciated. I want them to feel good about the job they do. I want them to feel a connection to the passengers. If they're having a bad day, maybe this will help just a little bit. Think about the last time someone thanked you for doing your job. Didn't it give you a lift? That's the feeling I want my pilots to have.
Throwing salt over your shoulder after spilling some is clearly a superstition. Not walking under a ladder just seems like a good idea. What are your strategies and superstitions?
Oh, and thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read my blog. It means a lot to me.
Have you ever noticed that the more green someone is wearing on St Patrick's day, the more likely it is that they have absolutely no Irish heritage ...?
I was at an event recently, a surprise 40th birthday party for a good friend that I used to work with. I got to hang out with a ton of people from my previous employer (huge health insurance company - rhymes with "you floss, you yield"). Anyway, as I caught up with people and wandered around the party nearly everyone commented on my wardrobe. I was wearing nice new blue jeans, leather soled loafers and a collared blue dress shirt. Which is actually pretty dressed up for me these days. But people couldn't get over the jeans. I confessed that I frequently wore gym shoes to work, at this point they said that I was just bragging...
I'm not comfortable all the time. I have frequent client meetings, and I suit up according to their dress code, but the rest of the time I dress for comfort.
How much is being comfortable worth to you? Would you accept a lower
salary if you knew that you could dress in comfortable clothes every
day? Or going the other direction, if you dress for comfort today, how much more would they have to pay you to get you to put on a
tie every day, or wear wing-tip shoes?
Is one of the defining characteristics of the truly successful that they get to decide how they will dress all the time?
I spotted this checklist in a bathroom in the Jacksonville Airport.
Not sure where the sign is hanging in the women's room, but in the men's room it is way too close to the urinals.
By the way, laughing out loud and then pulling out your iPhone to take a picture of a small checklist that is way too close to the urinals in a men's room will get you some looks and comments from all ten guys in the bathroom.
Monitoring the bathroom checklists so you don't have to.
Have you ever noticed that the more green someone is wearing on St Patrick's day, the more likely it is that they have absolutely no Irish heritage ...?
Not sure where the sign is hanging in the women's room, but in the men's room it is way too close to the urinals.
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