I'm at the office this morning. I drove here specifically to write today's story. I left my house to do this, even though I would have been the only one at home. Peace and quiet would have been assured. It is also a beautiful day here in the North Atlantic, so my inspirational ocean view would not have been obscured by ground hugging fog or driving rain that makes looking through the windows like peering into a Coke bottle.
There is something comforting about being around people. The hustle and bustle of people coming here to satisfy their craving for an exotic sounding coffee, to rendezvous with clients and friends, or to take advantage of free wireless help me focus and stir my creativity. The Wednesday morning Scrabble club is here, albeit in diminished numbers. I overheard the ladies say that the gardening ladies won't be back until the fall. One of the ladies just connected two words and scored sixteen. Her opponents are very impressed. I've just proven my point. Had I remained at home to write, I would have missed out on one of the most dramatic moments in the history of the Starbucks Scrabble Society.
Being able to concentrate in this type of environment has been a skill of mine since childhood. Homework was always tackled while the TV blared in the background. As commercials played during episodes of Happy Days, Gilligan's Island and Get Smart, I would usually manage to bang off a few math problems, some grammar and maybe even read a chapter of World History. My marks were always pretty good, so I guess mom and dad decided this was one battle not worth fighting. Even when I became a teen and thought parents were uncool and siblings a necessary evil, I would hide away in my room and study while listening to the radio or the Commodores on 8 track. To those of you old enough to remember the forerunner to cassettes and CD's, I wonder why we put up with an invention that allowed half of a song to be on one track and the rest of it on another. Now, it's fun to reminisce, but back in the day it was annoying. I guess 8 track players were more portable than record players and they didn't skip as we discoed around the floor like John Travolta (in Saturday Night Fever, not Grease).
My younger brother Bill turned out to be even better at studying by distraction than me. To this day, some of his friends comment to me about his ability to excel in, what many would consider, chaotic conditions. I always take some of the credit for Bill's prowess. Whether our older brother, Gord, has this ability is still a mystery. Gord would have had to study to find out. I'm not sure what he was doing during commercials when he was a kid, but it certainly wasn't conjugating the French verb etre. Perhaps not having an older mentor was his undoing. I certainly don't recall mom or dad studying. I can only surmise that Gord must have somehow laid the foundation for me and Bill. Thanks bro.
Kids today have even more distractions. The internet, cell phones, texting, and mini computer games are far more pervasive and compelling than Arthur Fonzarelli and Agent 86 (although not more than the stunningly beautiful Agent 99). Lynda and I have worked hard to teach our kids proper study habits. So far, they have been doing very well in school. Last week, ten year old Kendall was in her room and I thought she was doing homework. As I walked down the hallway, I could feel the music coming from her bedroom as much as I could hear it. To go along with that, her multicoloured disco ball was twirling and the only other light came from a small reading lamp at the head of her bed. The place had the feel of the Strand Lounge of the 1980's, minus the smell and alcohol. Kendall didn't see me enter. I turned her music off and was about to say something profoundly fatherly, when she turned abruptly and said "Daddy! I need that on, I'm studying."
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