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Last week, the hilarious comedy troupe Improv Everywhere hijacked a carousel. I am a devoted fan of Improv Everywhere, who have pulled off such stunts as a public figure-skating display during which one man slips and falls all over the ice while romantic music plays, and the invasion of a subway car by Darth Vader and assorted characters from Star Wars.
"We try to keep the focus on doing something positive rather than something negative," says founder Charlie Todd. "We want to create scenes of chaos and joy." The carousel, however, has a magical, feel-good quality that seems exceeds all others. Why is that? Is it simply by virtue of the fact that a giant bunny wins a horse race? Is it the dramatic slow-mo finish? In the other videos, I noticed there's a period of adjustment during which the crowd of adult spectators need to observe, digest, and understand that what is happening is a public prank. Then and only then do they react with laughter. But in the carousel scene, the adults plunge into the spirit of the enterprise almost immediately even more so than the kids, who seem perplexed, but willing to go along, slapping their animals into "galloping." There is something so wonderful in watching grown-up people play as if still in preschool, where all of us were allowed to be firemen or doctors everyday. I plan on spending the rest of the afternoon at my desk with a thick layer of sunscreen on my nose and my sunglasses down over my eyes, playing lifeguard-at-the-beach. Read More: Laugh Until You Laugh... What's Your Emotional Age?
The New York Times today reported on a story that makes you want to go up and down the sidewalks, shaking people's hands saying "Thank you. Thank you very much for being human." (One day, I am going to try this and see how it turns out.) Because no matter what we think about ourselves, there are people out there who change the entire futures of others. Mariah Stackhouse, the only African-American qualifier in this week's U.S. Women's Open, started out her career as a middle-class youngster in Atlanta—which meant that she couldn't practice on the kind of expert, varied terrain that she needed to experience in order to improve. Enter 72-year-old Ralph Boston. Boston was a three-time Olympian in the long jump back in the '60s—when country club membership required not just money but also white skin. "When I met Mariah, there was a lady running through my mind—my mother, Eulalia," says Boston. "She'd always tell me, 'Whenever you can open a door, you do it.' So basically I had to help Mariah, because people helped me." So he enrolled Stackhouse as his "granddaughter" at the Canongate chain of private courses. From there, Stackhouse made a name for herself, earning her own club membership and entrance into Stanford University. Which just goes to show you: Your mom may still nag you about wearing slippers in the winter. Your mom may fill up your voice mail, worried about buying Christmas pageant tickets in the merry month of April. But when it comes to the big stuff—changing the world, giving not just when it's convenient but when it costs you—moms are the world champions.
The first day back to work is never fun—even if your work is staying at home. But brain researchers now claim that this unique time period may be the key to some mental breakthroughs. Dr. David Rock's classic piece in Psychology Today, describes how coming back can inspire fresh answers to old, unsolved problems you left behind. He writes: "It turns out that the ability to stop oneself from thinking something is central to creativity. For example, if you are trying to solve the six-letter anagram 'Bmusic' you would have to stop thinking about the word 'music' to get the correct word (which is 'cubism'). After a vacation, this happens all by itself as your circuits for solving a problem one way have become less dominant. This idea also explains why I like playing pieces I have written on the piano after a long break. I tend to naturally do things differently because the circuits are not held as tightly, and I stumble upon happy musical accidents along the way. What this means at work is that new answers to tough problems are more likely to emerge from your mind when you haven't thought about a problem for a while. So use this resource, use your fresh mind to tackle big challenges." Hmm...I wonder if this idea will help me with my number one work problem: eating too many gummy bears after 3 p.m. and giving myself a crippling sugar hangover. I don't want the hangover. But I do want the gummy bears. I fear my breakthrough may involve a fresh, new idea called willpower. Read More by Alethea Black The story that won our hearts: A woman who suspects her partner is having a long-distance affair pins her hopes on a birthday gift that demonstrates that she knows him better than anybody. (And boy, does she succeed!) The title we'll never forget: "The Only Way Out Is Through" The character we'd like to run away with: The divorced gentleman who falls in love with a woman with laryngitis, and woos her by writing notes. The quote that changed our lives: "Only then, as she stared at the rows of book covers, at the pictures of people laughing or embracing or crying, all caught in the heroic struggles of their lives, did a small thought occur to her with such simplicity she almost said it out loud: 'I am afraid to try.'" Looking for a good book? Discover all 27 new summer must-reads on our list. Or, take one of these nine paperbacks to the beach. Monday is too stressful. Wednesday is already hump day. But Tuesday is "you" day: a day when you have the energy to do—or plan—something fresh and unexpected that might just turn your whole week around. So the Fourth and the firecrackers are over. Let's keep the national love going:
Take the time to teach your kids about the branches of the U.S. government. Play some civics games—everything from mock Supreme Court battles to president for the day—with your kids. In America, there are only six women governors and 17 women senators. You can take a more active role in getting women into political office with these suggestions on how to become involved at Off the Sidelines. Get savvy about your finances. Find out how much you're really spending on—or saving for—your child's or your grandchild's college. Check out the Department of Education's new College Affordability and Transparency Center site. The royals hit the USA! Feel the Kate Mania with shots of Kate and kids. Get ready for the next HUGE holiday to come. Celebrate July 7, Chocolate Day...without adding post-celebration curves: Whip up Bob Greene's decadent Healthy Chocolate Pudding.
This weekend, so many of us will be craning our faces towards the sky, to watch fireworks. The truth is, though, we should probably all be looking up a lot more. About a week ago, I stumbled on the website nyskyc.com, which updates "the average color of the new york sky" every five minutes via digital photographs taken by a rooftop camera. For New Yorkers, these graduated blue squares must serve as a gentle reminder to take their eyes off the pavement every once in a while and feel the blue--or the black--depending on the hour. What every skyscraper scrapes up against is, after all, what astronomers more reverently call the celestial sphere. But I had to wonder what life would be like if all of us--in New York and everywhere else in the world--measured time as it's pictured here: not in numbers, but in colors linked to the natural world. What would life be like, say, if it were azure o'clock? Or deep navy pm? Or aquamarine in the morning? Sure, it's a little hokey. But maybe taking the numbers away--and all the counting, and adding and subtracting--that goes along with them would help relieve that sense that time is always moving too fast or too slow, that there is too much time or never, ever enough. A clock based on colors would more emphatically remind us, too, where time comes from--the turning of the earth, the slim scrap of heaven that we are currently floating by in this much, much larger universe. Read More:
"I owe my mother a lot, " the writer says. "Besides the fact that she took care of us as a single mother, she also had to help me through an accident I had when I was 10 years old, which involved a number of surgeries; she made sure we were housed and fed, and she pushed us to get educations. ... My problem is that I have such a hard time visiting her. All she wants is someone to sit with her, but that is hard for me. I take my son with me sometimes, and it is wonderful to see her face light up. She doesn't say much, but we just sit for a while and then leave. I wish I could go there and spend more time, but it is really hard to do that. It literally drains me of all of my energy. I'm not complaining about her. She makes no demands. I'm not the dying person. I feel I should want to go see her as much as possible now." While Tennis responds in a loving, thoughtful manner to the writer's confusions, what struck us most was the mother—and the idea that to sit and be with somebody sick is enough. So often we visitors worry about flowers (is pollen allowed?); we worry about bringing balloons or tabloid magazines; we worry about whether to sit on the bed (too close?) or sit on the chair (too far); we worry we're talking about silly, selfish things (our broken dishwasher, our jerky ex) when these sick people are struggling for their lives. However, instead of doing all this worrying, which may just lead you not to show up in the hospital room at all, or to panic and act in the least way you'd like to act, you can just sit and be there. Being there is enough. Read more: Ways to help an ailing friend or parent Sure, there have been a lot of surprise homecoming videos out there that make us glad to be humans on this big, confusing planet. But what this brother did at his sister's commencement—with the help of the college dean at California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo—made us sob (quietly, ducking below computer screen) with happiness.
Monday is too stressful. Wednesday is already hump day. But Tuesday is "you" day: a day when you have the energy to do—or plan—something fresh and unexpected that might just turn your whole week around. Celebrate June 28th with some wacky math. How to honor—and understand—Tau Day (Hint: It's a cousin of pi) Get ready for the Fourth (without a stove). How to make a stars-and-stripes hat for your pooch Prepare yourself for the airport. How to laugh at holiday travel...for once The Two-Minute To-Do: Mark your calendar for Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest. How to watch it live I was never sure which attracted me more: the totally wrong brother-sister love affair in Flowers in the Attic or the cool, metallic cover with a creepy mansion where Cathy peeked out, her face contorted with unspeakable terror. I spent a lot of seventh grade with that book—reading it, enjoying the feeling of being afraid, secretly aflutter "down there" and full of desperate longing all at the same time. Like all my friends, I tore through the next three in the series.
And then I grew up.
At last, a book that captures all those same feelings, only with exquisitely written literary prose. Rebecca Wolff's The Beginners debuts this week—a novel about Ginger, a shy 15-year-old girl who befriends the Motherwells, a new couple in her tiny Massachusetts town who may or may not be ghosts from the Puritan witch-burning past, live humans with sociopath tendencies, or just young, beautiful, magnetic 20-somethings with some questionable values. As Ginger gets more and more involved with the twosome, I found myself similarly enthralled. What did these very grown-up adults want with this girl? What were they going to do with her? The real mystery, though, had less to with the Motherwell's dark designs and more to do with tentative, starstruck Ginger, who so willingly adapts herself to their every need. Wolff captures the awakening of this dreamy, shy girl so perfectly and acutely, you might just shiver—not only from fear but recognition. Advertisement
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