Finding your own Tipping Point

Book Response: Malcom Gladwell's Tipping Point

"We like to think of ourselves as autonomous and inner-directed, that who we are and how we act is something permanently set by our genes and our temperament. But if you add up the examples...they amount to a very different conclusion about what it means to be human."

Gladwell believes that within the human race there are people with special capabilities. These talented people are needed to create epidemics of all kinds, whether it be spreading diseases or fashion trends. The general population, who on the average day seem unlikely to change their minds or behavior, will change when these special people--Connectors, Mavens, and Salesmen--are at work.

The Tipping Point theory attempts to explain epidemics in social, non-magical terms. Gladwell shows an appreciation for diversity; we are not all the same, and some of us play vital roles in products or trends that "stick." My value for diversity was satisfied when I read this. So there is a rhyme and reason to the way some things catch fire, while others fizzle within a short time! The problem I faced, as I read on, is that I am not one of those talented people.

The theory is far from a control-the-masses idea. Gladwell is not saying most of us go along for the ride while a few significant people really run the show. I'll admit I sometimes willingly become caught up in something incredibly popular. I saw the midnight premier of "The Hunger Games" back in March, and dispite a theater filled with teenagers giggling awkwardly I enjoyed being the intoxicating excitment. Gladwell believes it's the "stickiness" of a message or product which accounts for its popularity being pushed over the edge.

Gladwell's theory helped dispell my tendency to idealize the successful. Like many my age I adored and grew up on Sesame Street, but Gladwell credits the creators of Blue's Clues for building on the former show's success while avoiding its inadequacies. As endearing as Sesame Street is and was, in tests the latter show has proven to help its audience learn the target skills. Despite my emotional attachment to the monsters from the street, the tests show Blue's Clues found away to be "stickier" than its parent. There was a rhyme and reason to its popularity.

Recently I was recruited to be a core member of a local start-up business in the field of fitness and nutrition. I was wooed not because of my large social circle, my stockpile of information, or my retail persuasiveness--I can claim none of these. I was welcomed to the team because I am positive, determined, and one hell of a latte crafter. I am fortunate that the company owners are in fact a Connector, a Maven and a Salesman. Like a nose tackle in a 3-4 defense, I have the unsexy role of "holding the point" while the stars of the show make plays.

I take it back. I'm Bruce Lee, using the inertia of others toward my own successful ends.

The Libraries of My Youth

Grab Bag: Oostburg Christian School library and Cedar Grove Public Library bring back memories

Last weekend I had the good fortune of traveling to southeast Wisconsin with my dad and two of my brothers. I made sure this visit to our old stomping grounds included touring the libraries of my youth. 

We met my dad's closest friend from our time in Cedar Grove. Mr. Ritsman treated us to sodas and delicious cinna-nut lattes. We merrily talked family and careers while I basked in the charm of the local coffee shop, which in our day was the bakery. After a few minutes it was time for the brothers to cruise down memory lane.

We left the gentlemen at the coffee shop and followed the drug of nostalgia on the old bus route to Oostburg, WI. In the heart of the 2500 citizen town is our old grade school, Oostburg Christian. The principal, my old sixth-grade teacher who coached my older brother and me in junior high basketball and soccer, was the only person in the building.

"Feel free to revel in the past," Mr. Adams said. If only he knew how much I do that already.

Headed to the junior high hallway, I stopped my brothers at the library. "Has it changed much?" my older brother asked. "Not a lot," I said, pointing out the subtle differences. "The librarian's desk was this way. But the book shelves are exactly the same," I said with professional confidence.

I actually don't have many positive associations with my grade school library. Failed AR reading tests and months-long fines instead come to mind. The real reading magic came--and even then I resisted it--in the classroom during open reading time, when the students were free to select a book from the shelf. Still, the library was a central presence of literature at OCS, where the "beaners" (our affectionate term for kindergarteners) and big kids alike checked out books to take home.

Filled with memories of the past, my brothers and I drove back to Cedar Grove to get pizza with dad. We were told our pizza would be ready in 20-25 minutes. I knew exactly where I wanted to spend the next half hour. “Let’s take a walk,” I suggested, “and sort of go up the hill.”

We made it to the library in several short minutes and immediately began reminiscing about our many afternoons playing roller hockey in the parking lot. “Did you play with us?” Josh, my older brother asked. “Yeah,” I said, my eyes sparkling with memory, “I played defense.”

I stepped into the library and immediately began marking my mental check-list. Play area, check. Community room, check. Give-a-puzzle-take-a-puzzle corner, double-check.

I scanned the adult fiction titles, and when nothing caught my eye I found myself saying, “I’m ready when you guys are.” It’s not that the library was boring or a let-down. But I had to admit the real trove of nostalgia was in a building across town. What once had been the Cedar Grove Public Library changed to a Variety Store, then to another business altogether. I’d looked at the one-story building longingly as we drove into town, knowing it was a shell of the majestic establishment it once was.

With a passion for literature as fierce as my own, it’s easy to put too much stock in libraries. Although they are a sign of literary health in a community, it’s sometimes, but not always where the real reading magic begins. It can never beat the feeling of hearing your favorite bedtime story on grandma’s knee. Or of learning your letters from Kermit the Frog. Nor can it match the thrill of pulling your not yet discovered favorite book from the shelf during reading time at school. However, libraries raise our awareness toward creativity and the magic of the world around us, and for the libraries of my youth, I am thankful.

Grab Bag: Valuetales teach the value of colorful challenges

Louis Pasteur was a tiny Frenchman with a large red nose who wore a large black bowler hat. I know this from the Valuetales I read at my grandma and grandpa’s house.

Pasteur was faced with the dilemma of curing rabies. He was able to invent a potion that could fight the effect of rabies, so when a family’s son is bitten by a rabid dog, Pasteur injects him with the serum.

The serum is depicted by soldiers who march through the needle into the boy’s body, where they fight the disease agents, who are depicted by fierce monsters. After an intense battle between the soldiers and the monsters the boy is healed and the family overjoyed. So we find because he believed in himself, Louis Pasteur invented not only the process of pasteurization, but of curing rabies.

Many images stick out from these books years later. How could I forget the evil look in the baseball player’s face while Jackie Robinson slides into second base? Or Beethoven losing his hearing when being pulled onto a train by his ears during his youth? Or Abraham Lincoln running a mile to find the woman he owed a penny? It seems most of these books were wonderful when it came to presenting an emotional center, easy for children to grasp.

Perhaps it’s because I was raised in a house of very clear, very firm morals, but for me these books were never about the value displayed on the cover. They merely served as a common thread for the book. The real story was that these people faced real problems head-on and for that are significant to history.

The illustrations were also significant. Warm colors, with some pigments occasionally out of place as befit’s a late-70s to late-80s palette. The animated look goes along with the fantasy element of imaginary friend that each main character has. Did you know Abe Lincoln’s spirit animal was a squirrel?

The Valuetale series is an excellent idea executed wonderfully. By featuring people of different races and time periods, the readers are treated to both familiar and unfamiliar faces. We learn that to get anywhere in life we will have to face obstacles. And we find that the journey of life is as colorful as we could ever wish it to be. 

read about others' love for the series:

gretta johns' blog

thepioneerwoman.com

jon yang's web site 

book reviews by kristie

Writer's Corner: Will of the Soul, part 1

This is the beginning of a sci-fi concept about the "before-life"...look for more parts to come in Writer's Corner.

All the souls were aware of the great Existence above them. They had no eyes to see, but sensed something greater and more complex than one another.

Some of the souls moved at the speed of light; some much faster. Each danced and swayed to a unique rhythm. One was pale pink while another was azure. Some many colors at once, while others switched at random. None knew where they came from or what was to come. In fact the sense of time hadn’t been instilled in them yet.

The Soul called Hollis was orange and red, all the illuminating shades of existence. This soul was no more special than the others. It vibrated and swayed, as did the others, on its own accord.

The Soul found itself alone. Its colors continued to burn amber, lemon and rose. The Soul was curious but not unsettled by being alone with the great Existence.

The Soul waited for a long time in the company of the Existence. The Soul took comfort in the Existence.

The Existence did not shine with colors but with a boldness. The Soul knew that whatever happened next would be because of the Existence.

For the first time the Soul was aware of itself. And the Soul looked at the great Existence.

The Soul chose to put its attention on the Existence, asking it, "What has transpired."

The boldness of the Existence grew as it acknowledged the Soul's question. After a long time Existence responded. "You have become a Soul."

The Soul knew this to be true. The Existence communicated further. There was a spark of infinite energy. As it grew, the spark began to take shades of brightness. After a while the shades became more distinct. Then they broke off of their own accord. They were of the same, but distinct.

Now that the Soul knew where it came from, it wanted to know what was next.

"This is what I will. I want to be the brightest of light among the sparks."

After a while the Existence acknowledged the Soul's will. And the Soul communicated again. "This is what I will: to add to the wonder of the sparks.

Then the Existence spoke, and time was born for the Soul:

"Your will has been created, and it shall be followed."

to be continued...


　

　

Support of Local Literature: storytime still very much alive

"Livi thinks baths are so boring! Everything is more fun than baths! Will she ever end up in   the tub?"

There's a wee bit more of academic summer left, so there's still time to get kids' heads in a book. This morning Barnes and Noble hosted a weekly storytime, reading On My Way to the Bath by Sarah Maizes.

Story telling is a wonderful exercise on so many levels. I remember with fondness my second grade teacher reading classics like The Very Hungry Caterpillar while we snuggled onto the carpet. Even the books I didn't like--such as that nasty Ramona Quimby--were made enjoyable by Mrs. Hendrick's warmth and enthusiasm.

Through story time I became the big man for the day in our classroom. The book I brought from home for Mrs. Hendrick's to read for the class was Body Battles by Rita Golden Gelman, which features the illness-fighting heros in our body. The class giggled the whole time at the personifications of earwax, mucus and white blood cells fighting bravely against the foes of disease. I rushed with enthusiasm as a classmate smiled and said afterward, "I like that book."

And so I stand behind storytime, not only because it gives something for the kids to do on the long days of summer, but because they genuinely  enjoy it. I know I did.

Unfortunately, my local library doesn't have any more storytelling days line up before school begins. But who's to say that won't stop me from volunteering to read at a local elementary school during the school year? I'm looking forward to sharing my enthusiasm, allowing a child to say, "I like that book."

Author Bio: heavenly thoughts on Randy Alcorn

This afternoon I enjoyed a wonderful meal of salad and Provino's pizza with my parents and grandparents. We polished off our main course and over dessert grandpa told us about the novel he recently finished by Randy Alcorn, a Christian author who specializes in the eternal. Our conversation soon spun into an "I wonder what heaven's going to be like" speculation where everyone more or less defends what he or she believes. I'll be honest, it was pretty heavy stuff for my grandparent's breakfast nook table.

Randy Alcorn has become a best-selling author by speculating on the after-life from a Christian perspective. The consensus is that Alcorn spent 25 years researching his book, Heaven. What followed is, according to my grandpa, a detailed description of heaven, including explanations of its social and cosmological workings. All Alcorn's concepts are derived from scripture, with certain "narrative" liberties taken.

Alcorn is an American Protestant minister and founder of Eternal Perspectives Ministry, which serves those without physical and spiritual protection. He was also one of 150 religious leaders to sign the Manhattan Declaration: a Call of Christian Conscience. This document is a pro-life, traditional marriage sanction. Similarly Alcorn's description of heaven is largely based on traditional views of the Christian heaven.

I've been trying to crack the code of the Christian market for a little while now. Why is there a chain Christian bookstore next to the largest mall in Tennessee, but nowhere else in Chattanooga--and believe me, I'd know--is there a bookstore for any other literary genre? At a recent visit to Lifeway Christian Bookstores I left my last stop, the CDs, and looked to my left before getting to the door. There were displays of Christian wedding paraphenalia, stationary, nic-nacs--everything short of a turn-style of greek fish bumper stickers. Lifeway obviously has found a market in the Southern Christian lifestyle.

When I was young it was easy to read a book with eternal implications. I gobbled up Frank Peretti's Cooper Adventure Series, entertained by their Indiana Jones-like antics, but also because his presentation of the supernatural gave my spine a pleasant chill. Through the medium of fiction, Christian writers have found success presenting the eternal in ways that is linked to suspense, mystery, destiny.
Heaven is a very popular topic in Christian literature today, but it's not only Christians who are fascinated by the idea of heaven. Many of us suspect the afterlife will either consist of all the purist things we can think of, or all the darkest and most disgusting. What makes such a speculation perpetually popular is it can never be solved. There are those who share near-death experiences, but they often sound more like a wonderful dream or horrible nightmare than an actual experience of the afterlife. The only way to know what happens in the next life is to go there. And at that point, will we even care?

Anticipation is the key for heaven's intrigue. Heaven provides a reward to undergo life's troubles and gives them purpose. It's something to look forward to, for those who are into streets of gold. What I believe to be equally fascinating, and equally unsolvable, is the question of where we were before conception? Inconveniantly, the Bible has little to say about it. Perhaps I've found the material for my first novel.