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The Golden List

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Early this spring, I started a new project. I have no idea how or why I thought of this particular idea. It just kinda came to me. I think I was sitting in what my family fondly calls the Big Room in our home – a space that is relatively quiet, on the second floor, furnished with all that represents yesteryear including a 1980s plaid sofa, a worn out pool table, several chairs that would fit in no home (including mine) but there they are in the Big Room. And there I was using one of them when this idea hit me.

On the surface, the idea is simple. Initially I gave myself thirty days to complete it. I actually chuckled at that thought as I figured I would have it finished in a day, two at the most. But as the timeline was going to be self imposed, I kindly allotted myself a month just to be on the very safe side.

The task centered around my next great writing adventure.  My blog has been chugging along for many years, and I thought maybe it is time to press on to new adventures and new worlds.  Maybe I need to take that big, giant leap forward.  After all, according to Mr. Gretzky – hockey’s The Great One, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” So, not moving my writing forward was much like not taking the available shot.  I will miss out for sure if I never try.

So, the new writing quest began.

Step one of the task at hand has been to identify one hundred words that describe . . . me. Words on this list could be nouns or verbs . . . or adverbs . . . or adjectives. All parts of the English language are welcome. The words can be positive or negative, simple, complex or compound. Slang . . . acceptable! Onomatopoeia . . . acceptable! Acronyms and abbreviations – thumbs up! The list can include words that describe my past, present, and/or future as long as each entry somehow tells the story of me.

It seemed so easy when I thought of it.  One hundred words with no holds barred.  A laundry list of what it means to be me.  I wasn’t challenging myself to anything so whoppin’ grand that it was going to take all my might to complete it.  Just a list of one hundred words.  I don’t even have to alphabetize them.  Just jot them down.  One at a time.  Until I hit one hundred.    

It’s sixty days later. Sixty days. And I have yet to even come close to finishing.  I’m not sure if I am embarrassed or scared. Or both. What does it say about me to not be able to quickly come up with one hundred distinct words that describe me.  Sadly, yesterday I noticed there was a duplicate, and it was difficult erasing from what was already slim in number.  

As of this moment, there are – count them – a measly thirty-nine words on the list of me. Thirty-nine.  Thirty-nine.

I’ve lived much more than half a century.  I have a family and relatives and friends and a house and stuff.  I’ve done a lot of the usual and some of the unusual.  I’d call it a good mix.  But, there are still only thirty-nine words on my list and it feels like I am permanently stuck there.

To make myself feel a bit better, I’m extending my timeline.  I’m giving myself an additional six months to see if I can broaden out the list.  I may resort to reading the big giant unabridged dictionary that is kindly sitting on the lower shelf in my living room.  Doing so, however, seems to walk close to that plagiarism line.

In any event, though my latest idea may have been a failure in that I have only met a bit more than one third of my goal, it has taught me much, much more than expected.  

I am only unique by a thin margin.  

Measuring differences is difficult.  

Before I can describe anyone else, I had better be able to describe myself.  

I got some work cut out for me

All I Can Say Is Here’s to the Crazy Ones . . .

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Here’s to the crazy ones . . . the misfits . . . the rebels . . . the trouble-makers . . . the round heads in the square holes . . . the ones who see things differently.  They’re not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo.  You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them.  But the only thing you can’t do is ignore them . . . because they change things!  They push the human race forward.  And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world . . . are the ones who do.  

– – Apple Computers – –

As I look back on my early life, at times, I think I grew up in a world of conformity.  The Pleasant Valley Sunday syndrome (my favorite 1967 hit single by the Monkees) described my neighborhood.  Rows of houses that were all the same lined my street.  Most – if not all folks – were of the same race and religion.  Each household had a dog, at least one Schwinn bike, two aluminum trash cans, a front lawn light that was turned on at dusk / off at dawn, a postage stamp sized back yard, and curb-side white and black painted house numbers.  A typical week included church on Sunday, school Monday through Friday, and barbeque on Saturday.  Dinner time was 5:00 o’clock – for the entire street.  School uniforms – the gray plaid wool variety – were the norm.  Being the same was in vogue.

In my youth, being the same – having a little bit of conformity –was somewhat comforting.  Bedtime – 7:30pm every night.  Television’s Wonderful World of Disney – Sunday night.  Fish sticks and tater tots for dinner – the Lenten Friday night special.  From kindergarten to eighth grade – recess at 2:00p.m.  And every weekend, it was radio time:

Here we go with the Top 40 hits of the nation this week on American Top 40, the best-selling and most-played songs from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Canada to Mexico.  This is Casey Kasem in Hollywood, and in the next three hours, we’ll count down the 40 most popular hits in the United States this week, hot off the record charts of Billboard magazine for the week ending . . .

– – Casey Kasem – –

Listening to the American Top Forty fifty two Saturdays out of the year was only one of many rituals.  We did many things the same way at the same time with the same people; and, this behavior created more than just a system of status quo. It built a framework of traditions and customs that are still alive and well today. It added significant stability to daily life.  It taught me and the world around me a lot about the importance of patterns and the power of expectations. It created a solid level of security.

And through such a cozy life of conformity came the graceful ability to become the ones who saw things differently . . . the misfits . . . the rebels . . . the trouble-makers.  Many of us became so rather easily by combining what we knew about conformity with what we didn’t know about being the crazy ones.

Think of Johnny Cash.  He only wore one color – his trademark head to toe black.  He obviously knew the value of consistency and reliability . . . of conformity.  His audience expected him to wear black and he did.  But the Man in Black’s career was rebellious for sure.  His music spoke to challenging issues within religion, within justice and the prison system, or within human sadness.  He sang the tunes of change, but ironically enough,  started every performance with the same statement: “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.”

Think of Harriet Tubman.  She was one very rebellious woman during her time of advocating for the end of slavery.  Words used to describe her include abolitionist, reformer, activist, and (my favorite) spy – all the language of the crazy ones.   Yet, it is interesting (and horrifying) to me to know that she started her early life out as a slave – a life that I am sure required great conformity in order to survive.  To be a slave meant holding together the status quo in order to avoid death or near death.  But, as the Apple saying goes, she never allowed folks to ignore her.  Quite the opposite –  for she was a crazy one, the round peg in the square hole calling out and demaning change.

All I can say is . . . here’s to the crazy ones.

Here is to the person with the great idea of painting the house pink in a neighborhood of white frame homes.  Here is to the family who didn’t eat dinner at 5:00p.m. sharp.  Here is to the folks who look at today’s technology and think of new and different uses with the idea that they may be the ones who harness the power of some type of gizmo to solve challenges like poverty and hunger. Here is to the young women and men who look at the solution to cancer differently than their predecessors in hopes of eradicating suffering and pain for the masses.

And thank goodness the crazy ones won’t let us ignore them.

I thank my lucky stars that the glory of genius allows . . . well . . . geniuses to stand out in a crowd.  The more the world sees and hears the mantra of their ideas, the more likely we will listen.  And the light should not just be shining on the genius of Apple, Disney, AT40, Cash, or Tubman.  It should be burning bright within everyone – within the framework of the conformity that provides stability for the emergence of change.

I only hope and prayer that folks see my children, my spouse, my family members, friends, and myself as part of the crazy crowd.  And I am hoping that the lessons taught through moments of conformity translate into strongholds of opportunities to ensure that when faced with a moment to change the world, I can.