Tis the Season when priests and ministers will surely remind you during Christmas services that Christmas is first and foremost a religious celebration for Christians. Some Christians send emails making the same point: “Keep Christ in Christmas,” they say. We hear many messages about the true meaning of Christmas in the days leading up to the Holiday, sometimes delivered gently in a sermon and other times with the force of a sledgehammer.
Believers and non-believers certainly know that Christmas celebrates the miracle of the birth of Christ, a gift to mankind. That fact doesn’t slip many minds really. Aside from attending church services what should we be doing? Is it that we should spend a few moments reflecting on the birth of the savior before we shred all that colorful paper, open the boxes and pretend to love what’s inside? Is saying Grace before we devour the sumptuous foods sitting on the table sufficient acknowledgement?
A lot has been said about the way the secular aspects of Christmas have overwhelmed the religious observation of the day. I’m not sure it’s true. We attend Christmas parties in the office, in social clubs, and with friends and neighbors. I’ve never been to one that was focused on religion. Still, when I look around the room at one of these parties it’s nearly impossible to miss the smiles on the faces of the people. They may not be gathered around the piano singing the First Noel but there is a genuine softening of their features, warmth that is perhaps hidden at other times of the year. Genuine good will toward others manifests itself in conversation, hand shakes and hugs. There are no pews and no sermons but there is kindness aplenty.
And what about the parents that run out to buy gifts for their children? Yes they buy something for each other if the budget allows, but all discussion revolves around what’s best for each child. For that matter, anyone that takes the time to fight the crowds, choose a gift, buy it and wrap it simply because it’s Christmas, seems to be doing God’s work. If your heart is in the right place it seems to me that giving gifts at Christmas is a wonderful example of God’s commandment that we love our neighbors.
Many fine people donate time, money, food and clothing items during the Holiday season. They too keep Christ in Christmas and if it so happens that they are atheists, well, God is smiling just the same. His purpose in being born 2000 years ago is well served when his children lend a helping hand to those that need it. God doesn’t actually need the credit for our good works.
Consider if you will the harried moms that probably should celebrate the day after Christmas. They cook up a storm, bake till they drop, clean the house, do the lion’s share of the Christmas shopping, wrap the gifts and still they manage to look beautiful and even happy come Christmas morning. That, my friends is love on steroids. That is the marathon that in its own marvelous way is both a beautiful prayer and an angel’s Christmas Carol. What would possess a woman to run herself ragged if not a belief in the message of the Christ Child?
And while daddy may not be checking to make sure the cookies aren’t burning, he is usually the one that climbs on the roof to put decorations up, runs string after string of lights around bushes and trees, knowing just one thing for certain: In a few weeks he’ll have to take them down and it will be even colder than the day he put them up. He’s also the guy that goes to great lengths to keep his babies belief in Santa alive for one more year. He may wrestle with doubts 364 days a year, but when it comes to Christmas, count him in.
I may be crazy but people seem more forgiving this time of year. People are just cheerful at Christmas. I suppose this unbridled happiness is an artifact of childhood memories. No one ever really forgets how exciting it was to go to bed on Christmas Eve with visions of sugar plums dancing in your head. Kids go to bed that night with hope in their hearts. At Christmas, we’re all kids. We all hope. Merry Christmas.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The Pundit Game
I’ll bet you’ve never played the pundit game. But I’m sure you have seen the game many times. If you watch what passes for television news, you can’t possibly miss it. Supposedly educated people take positions that are impossible to defend but they cling to them tenaciously in exchange for name recognition and book sales. The game is actually quite simple and you should learn to play it. Assuming self respect is no biggie for you, that you would do anything to be on TV even if it’s only a perp walk, you too could get rich playing the pundit game.
First, you write a short book. Let’s say the subject is, “The Spaghetti Diet: How to lose 15 pounds a week eating spaghetti.” It really helps if you have no credentials beyond your own claim that you personally lost 275 pounds on the diet. MSNBC calls. Morning Joe wants you on their show next week.
Since you don’t have any expertise, the Morning Joe people will invite a certified nutritionist on the show so they can create tension, and if all goes well, a shouting match. At first, this might sound like bad news. Trust me its not. You are about to sell more books than you ever imagined possible when you were quietly typing your manuscript in between bites of fettuccine alfredo.
On the day of the show the producer will no doubt tell you that it’s important to stick to your talking points. Regardless of how lucid or logical another guest’s ideas may be, if it contradicts your view, ignore it. If you can remember that simple rule, everything will go as smooth as swallowing ravioli marinara.
You’re on the air…
Joe: “Let’s welcome Wally Walter the man who lost 275 pounds on the spaghetti diet. Tell us how the spaghetti diet works Wally.”
Wally: “Sure. All you do is eat macaroni five times a day. Just one portion of any size will do the trick. No bread, no desserts and no liquids other than Chianti.”
Joe: “That is interesting. Let’s bring in our nutritional expert, Patty Lightness. Patty has a PhD in nutrition. Patty, what do you think of Wally’s diet?”
Patty: “It’s ridiculous, that’s what I think. Do you realize that eating all that pasta, with rich toppings will load you up with carbohydrates? Anyone on that diet would gain weight, not lose it.”
Joe: “What do you say to that Wally?”
Wally: “First of all, macaroni isn’t made up exclusively of carbohydrates. It has protein and some good vitamins that interact well with the fats that come from the meat sauce, the olive oil and butter used to enhance the flavor of the macaroni. By the way Patty, I find your use of the word pasta instead of macaroni very condescending.”
Patty: “Well, certainly there are fats and proteins in pasta and its various toppings but that is beside the point. The toppings merely add to the all important calorie count, which after all ultimately determines whether we gain or lose weight. Wally’s diet is very unhealthy taken in such large quantities.”
Wally: “I’m glad you brought that up Patty. Not all calories are alike. If they were, someone eating five pounds of spinach every day would gain as much weight as someone who ate five pounds of chocolate. Macaroni is not a really high calorie meal. And, it takes time to prepare. Just standing over the hot stove is like being in a sauna which many people have done to lose weight.”
Joe: “Patty, does a food’s density determine how many calories it contains? Would five pounds of spinach equate to five pounds of chocolate?”
Patty: “Of course not! That is pure nonsense. I assure you that you would have to eat an enormous amount of spinach to equal the calories in five pounds of chocolate. And, for the record, pasta is a very calorie dense meal.”
Wally: “My point exactly except for what you just said. You would absolutely have to eat a lot of spaghetti to take in as many calories as you would get eating five pounds of chocolate.”
Now, isn’t that easy? Notice the way Wally sidestepped well known facts, obscured legitimate points and frustrated his opponent. Wally is absolutely brilliant at the pundit game. There is little doubt that he would sell millions of books and become a regular on shows like Ellen and Oprah. Having his own show would only be a matter of time.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
First, you write a short book. Let’s say the subject is, “The Spaghetti Diet: How to lose 15 pounds a week eating spaghetti.” It really helps if you have no credentials beyond your own claim that you personally lost 275 pounds on the diet. MSNBC calls. Morning Joe wants you on their show next week.
Since you don’t have any expertise, the Morning Joe people will invite a certified nutritionist on the show so they can create tension, and if all goes well, a shouting match. At first, this might sound like bad news. Trust me its not. You are about to sell more books than you ever imagined possible when you were quietly typing your manuscript in between bites of fettuccine alfredo.
On the day of the show the producer will no doubt tell you that it’s important to stick to your talking points. Regardless of how lucid or logical another guest’s ideas may be, if it contradicts your view, ignore it. If you can remember that simple rule, everything will go as smooth as swallowing ravioli marinara.
You’re on the air…
Joe: “Let’s welcome Wally Walter the man who lost 275 pounds on the spaghetti diet. Tell us how the spaghetti diet works Wally.”
Wally: “Sure. All you do is eat macaroni five times a day. Just one portion of any size will do the trick. No bread, no desserts and no liquids other than Chianti.”
Joe: “That is interesting. Let’s bring in our nutritional expert, Patty Lightness. Patty has a PhD in nutrition. Patty, what do you think of Wally’s diet?”
Patty: “It’s ridiculous, that’s what I think. Do you realize that eating all that pasta, with rich toppings will load you up with carbohydrates? Anyone on that diet would gain weight, not lose it.”
Joe: “What do you say to that Wally?”
Wally: “First of all, macaroni isn’t made up exclusively of carbohydrates. It has protein and some good vitamins that interact well with the fats that come from the meat sauce, the olive oil and butter used to enhance the flavor of the macaroni. By the way Patty, I find your use of the word pasta instead of macaroni very condescending.”
Patty: “Well, certainly there are fats and proteins in pasta and its various toppings but that is beside the point. The toppings merely add to the all important calorie count, which after all ultimately determines whether we gain or lose weight. Wally’s diet is very unhealthy taken in such large quantities.”
Wally: “I’m glad you brought that up Patty. Not all calories are alike. If they were, someone eating five pounds of spinach every day would gain as much weight as someone who ate five pounds of chocolate. Macaroni is not a really high calorie meal. And, it takes time to prepare. Just standing over the hot stove is like being in a sauna which many people have done to lose weight.”
Joe: “Patty, does a food’s density determine how many calories it contains? Would five pounds of spinach equate to five pounds of chocolate?”
Patty: “Of course not! That is pure nonsense. I assure you that you would have to eat an enormous amount of spinach to equal the calories in five pounds of chocolate. And, for the record, pasta is a very calorie dense meal.”
Wally: “My point exactly except for what you just said. You would absolutely have to eat a lot of spaghetti to take in as many calories as you would get eating five pounds of chocolate.”
Now, isn’t that easy? Notice the way Wally sidestepped well known facts, obscured legitimate points and frustrated his opponent. Wally is absolutely brilliant at the pundit game. There is little doubt that he would sell millions of books and become a regular on shows like Ellen and Oprah. Having his own show would only be a matter of time.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Menu Fatigue
My good friend Tom and I walked into a restaurant and sat down. We were quickly greeted by the waitress. She handed each of us two menus and a third that we could share. Tom shook his head and said, “Why don’t you write about this?” He was referring to the plethora of menus that casual dining establishments are so fond of.
He has a point. In fine dining establishments your server will offer you a menu and perhaps a wine list. Not so in mid-level joints. They have so many choices to offer they can’t possibly fit them all on one menu. Even a large bill of fare won’t do. They load you up with gastric greeting cards and hope for the best. I ate breakfast a while back at a pancake house. Alone with nothing better to do, I counted the items on the menu. I would tell you exactly how many items they offered but I lost count after four hundred and nineteen.
And it’s not enough for them just to list what they offer. Oh no. They offer pictures, glossy, color shots of everything from pancakes to steak which is supposed to whet your appetite. I would be willing to bet a bottomless pot of coffee that the pictures aren’t selected at random. Sorry, but I have a strong suspicion that the featured items have the best profit margin. Let me put it this way: While I’ve seen plenty of juicy steak glamour shots, I have never seen a picture of an open face turkey sandwich on a menu.
The funny thing is that the photos themselves are not always attractive. You would think they would spend a lot of time and money to show you a USDA prime steak with all the trimmings. To my eye, admittedly untrained, the glossy photos displayed on these menus often give me reason to pause. Actual food stains would be more appealing.
Another thing that drives me crazy: The menus are humongous. Sitting at a table for two, we’re forced to wrestle with two-story pieces of plastic. Holding a conversation behind these barricades isn’t easy. You’re reading the menu but it feels like you’re playing hide and seek. Your dinner partner could take a powder and you’d never know it. Of course having a menu to hide behind can be good if you have personal business to attend to like blowing your nose, applying some lipstick or taking a furtive glance at the attractive person at the table next to you.
The second menu serves one of three purposes. 1. The specials: stuff they can’t seem to move but think some of us will go for if it looks like a bargain. One of my favorites is surf and turf. The term itself brings to mind filet mignon and lobster tails. The picture on the menu is hamburger and haddock. 2. New menu items: Entrees that common sense tells you will never make the regular menu. When a casual dining spot announces that it is proud to introduce its special Beef Wellington recipe, even a neophyte is smart enough not to order it. 3. Desserts: Everybody loves dessert. Have you ever noticed that pictures of death by chocolate cake and cheesecake are always front and center? Apparently, FDA regulation 604A requires it. Unfortunately, since your server confiscates all menus as soon as you order your main meal, you’ll probably forget which dessert you picked. Don’t worry though, your server will return later waving that menu in your face ready to bully you into ordering one.
What about that third menu? If the server doesn’t actually hand one to you then you can find it disguised as a flip chart sitting next to the salt and pepper shaker. You know what’s on there don’t you? That’s the alcoholic beverage menu which lists all the colorful drinks, with designer names. Selections include broken heart martinis, watermelon manhattans, and mango margaritas. So many flavors, to choose from, so little time to decide -all sporting happy hour prices.
One of the biggest challenges in the first decade of the 21st century is information overload. Having to contend with so much information and too many choices when all you want is lunch seems silly. Recently, some well known restaurant chains spent gobs of money rebranding their restaurants. They changed décor, color schemes, uniforms and logos in an effort to win back customers. Tom and I could have saved them a lot of money. Just give us an uncomplicated, easy to read menu.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
He has a point. In fine dining establishments your server will offer you a menu and perhaps a wine list. Not so in mid-level joints. They have so many choices to offer they can’t possibly fit them all on one menu. Even a large bill of fare won’t do. They load you up with gastric greeting cards and hope for the best. I ate breakfast a while back at a pancake house. Alone with nothing better to do, I counted the items on the menu. I would tell you exactly how many items they offered but I lost count after four hundred and nineteen.
And it’s not enough for them just to list what they offer. Oh no. They offer pictures, glossy, color shots of everything from pancakes to steak which is supposed to whet your appetite. I would be willing to bet a bottomless pot of coffee that the pictures aren’t selected at random. Sorry, but I have a strong suspicion that the featured items have the best profit margin. Let me put it this way: While I’ve seen plenty of juicy steak glamour shots, I have never seen a picture of an open face turkey sandwich on a menu.
The funny thing is that the photos themselves are not always attractive. You would think they would spend a lot of time and money to show you a USDA prime steak with all the trimmings. To my eye, admittedly untrained, the glossy photos displayed on these menus often give me reason to pause. Actual food stains would be more appealing.
Another thing that drives me crazy: The menus are humongous. Sitting at a table for two, we’re forced to wrestle with two-story pieces of plastic. Holding a conversation behind these barricades isn’t easy. You’re reading the menu but it feels like you’re playing hide and seek. Your dinner partner could take a powder and you’d never know it. Of course having a menu to hide behind can be good if you have personal business to attend to like blowing your nose, applying some lipstick or taking a furtive glance at the attractive person at the table next to you.
The second menu serves one of three purposes. 1. The specials: stuff they can’t seem to move but think some of us will go for if it looks like a bargain. One of my favorites is surf and turf. The term itself brings to mind filet mignon and lobster tails. The picture on the menu is hamburger and haddock. 2. New menu items: Entrees that common sense tells you will never make the regular menu. When a casual dining spot announces that it is proud to introduce its special Beef Wellington recipe, even a neophyte is smart enough not to order it. 3. Desserts: Everybody loves dessert. Have you ever noticed that pictures of death by chocolate cake and cheesecake are always front and center? Apparently, FDA regulation 604A requires it. Unfortunately, since your server confiscates all menus as soon as you order your main meal, you’ll probably forget which dessert you picked. Don’t worry though, your server will return later waving that menu in your face ready to bully you into ordering one.
What about that third menu? If the server doesn’t actually hand one to you then you can find it disguised as a flip chart sitting next to the salt and pepper shaker. You know what’s on there don’t you? That’s the alcoholic beverage menu which lists all the colorful drinks, with designer names. Selections include broken heart martinis, watermelon manhattans, and mango margaritas. So many flavors, to choose from, so little time to decide -all sporting happy hour prices.
One of the biggest challenges in the first decade of the 21st century is information overload. Having to contend with so much information and too many choices when all you want is lunch seems silly. Recently, some well known restaurant chains spent gobs of money rebranding their restaurants. They changed décor, color schemes, uniforms and logos in an effort to win back customers. Tom and I could have saved them a lot of money. Just give us an uncomplicated, easy to read menu.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Learning New Tricks
I found the game of tennis a bit late in life. I was 57 to be exact when I took my first lesson. For me it was love at first sight. The game didn’t exactly reciprocate. I was surprised by how demanding the sport is. The game requires physical dexterity, athletic ability and mental agility, none of which are in my arsenal. Watching the pros on television makes tennis look like a simple game, especially the way its played today with players seemingly just bashing the ball from baseline to baseline.
The speed and incredible finesse necessary to compete at that level isn’t readily apparent to the casual observer on the tube. Out on the court though, even at the club level, it’s obvious that consistently placing the ball where you want it to go is about as easy as consistently investing your money in exactly the right instrument at the right time.
Still, I press on with unabashed enthusiasm for the game. I take lessons, play in leagues and last year I attended a three day tennis camp at a prestigious tennis academy. I have loads of tennis paraphernalia and now that my left knee has begun to give me fits I’m outfitted with one of the game’s main side effect as well.
I play tennis for the exercise. It’s an enjoyable pastime, much more interesting than the loneliness of a treadmill or the frustration or the deadly monotony of a stationary bike. Tennis is so much fun I can hardly stand it. I have experienced some unexpected benefits from playing the game too. For starters, I’ve become an observer of the way I learn something new.
How many times do I need to hear that footwork is extremely important if I want to produce good, solid ground strokes? How often does an instructor need to tell me that it’s necessary to move to the ball rather than waiting for it to come to me like an obedient Bassett Hound? How often must I read a sentence that says something like, “Concentrate on the ball whenever it’s in play?” Let me put it this way: After three years of instruction I’m still struggling with the basics. Had I learned the alphabet at the same pace I would just be completing my third year of the first grade. I think adults tend to be stubborn about learning new tricks. We struggle with the notion that we don’t know how to do something, especially when it looks a lot easier than it is. I don’t mind paying for the lessons or reading instruction books. But really, how can a guy thirty years my junior really know more than I do about anything? Don’t answer that.
At least the game gives me the chance to experience athletic competition. League play, both singles and doubles, has sharpened my competitive instincts and helped me to manage performance anxiety in a positive way. I don’t mind telling you I was feeling pretty good last week when I managed to get the best of a 22 year old in an early morning singles match. The fact that he had been out all night and was drinking beer between sets didn’t diminish the accomplishment in my own eyes one bit. On the other hand, I’m still learning to accept defeat gracefully. Considering how often I lose you might think that losing was the entire point of the game. Yet, I never take losing lightly regardless of how experienced the other player is. Just last week I endured a thorough beating in another singles match at the hands of a 75 year old. To add insult to injury, when the match was over he lit a cigarette. It was probably wrong of me to let the air out of his tires when he went to the restroom.
Like golf, tennis is a game steeped in tradition. Unlike golf, the game doesn’t require that observers –or players for that matter- speak in hushed tones if they must speak at all during a match. If you’ve seen any professional tennis lately you know that the game has spawned a legion of grunters. Imagine Tiger Woods letting out a 50 decibel grunt every time he putts. Grunting is supposed to help with concentration. I’ve tried it and all it does for me is remind me that eating fried chicken fifteen minutes before the match was another thing I had been warned about and ignored.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
The speed and incredible finesse necessary to compete at that level isn’t readily apparent to the casual observer on the tube. Out on the court though, even at the club level, it’s obvious that consistently placing the ball where you want it to go is about as easy as consistently investing your money in exactly the right instrument at the right time.
Still, I press on with unabashed enthusiasm for the game. I take lessons, play in leagues and last year I attended a three day tennis camp at a prestigious tennis academy. I have loads of tennis paraphernalia and now that my left knee has begun to give me fits I’m outfitted with one of the game’s main side effect as well.
I play tennis for the exercise. It’s an enjoyable pastime, much more interesting than the loneliness of a treadmill or the frustration or the deadly monotony of a stationary bike. Tennis is so much fun I can hardly stand it. I have experienced some unexpected benefits from playing the game too. For starters, I’ve become an observer of the way I learn something new.
How many times do I need to hear that footwork is extremely important if I want to produce good, solid ground strokes? How often does an instructor need to tell me that it’s necessary to move to the ball rather than waiting for it to come to me like an obedient Bassett Hound? How often must I read a sentence that says something like, “Concentrate on the ball whenever it’s in play?” Let me put it this way: After three years of instruction I’m still struggling with the basics. Had I learned the alphabet at the same pace I would just be completing my third year of the first grade. I think adults tend to be stubborn about learning new tricks. We struggle with the notion that we don’t know how to do something, especially when it looks a lot easier than it is. I don’t mind paying for the lessons or reading instruction books. But really, how can a guy thirty years my junior really know more than I do about anything? Don’t answer that.
At least the game gives me the chance to experience athletic competition. League play, both singles and doubles, has sharpened my competitive instincts and helped me to manage performance anxiety in a positive way. I don’t mind telling you I was feeling pretty good last week when I managed to get the best of a 22 year old in an early morning singles match. The fact that he had been out all night and was drinking beer between sets didn’t diminish the accomplishment in my own eyes one bit. On the other hand, I’m still learning to accept defeat gracefully. Considering how often I lose you might think that losing was the entire point of the game. Yet, I never take losing lightly regardless of how experienced the other player is. Just last week I endured a thorough beating in another singles match at the hands of a 75 year old. To add insult to injury, when the match was over he lit a cigarette. It was probably wrong of me to let the air out of his tires when he went to the restroom.
Like golf, tennis is a game steeped in tradition. Unlike golf, the game doesn’t require that observers –or players for that matter- speak in hushed tones if they must speak at all during a match. If you’ve seen any professional tennis lately you know that the game has spawned a legion of grunters. Imagine Tiger Woods letting out a 50 decibel grunt every time he putts. Grunting is supposed to help with concentration. I’ve tried it and all it does for me is remind me that eating fried chicken fifteen minutes before the match was another thing I had been warned about and ignored.
Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
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