The Road Less Traveled

In his book The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell writes about “Connectors,” people who are responsible for spreading “social epidemics” to others.  He has a test in the book that lists 250 surnames taken at random from the Manhattan phone book.  The task is to go down the list and give yourself a point every time you see a surname that is shared by someone you know.  Here is the list:

Algazi, Alvarez, Alpern, Ametrano, Andrews, Aran, Arnstein, Ashford, Bailey Ballout, Bamberger, Baptista, Barr, Barrows, Baskerville, Bassiri, Bell, Bokgese, Brandao, Bravo, Brooke, Brightman, Billy, Blau, Bohen, Bohn, Borsuk, Brendle, Butler, Calle, Cantwell, Carrell, Chinlund, Cirker, Cohen, Collas, Couch, Callegher, Calcaterra, Cook, Carey, Cassell, Chen, Chung, Clarke, Cohn, Carton, Crowley, Curbelo, Dellamanna, Diaz, Dirar, Duncan, Dagostino, Delakas, Dillon, Donaghey, Daly, Dawson, Edery, Ellis, Elliott, Eastman, Easton, Famous, Fermin, Fialco, Finklestein, Farber, Falkin, Feinman, Friedman, Gardner, Gelpi, Glascock, Grandfield, Greenbaum Greenwood, Gruber, Garil, Goff, Gladwell, Greenup, Gannon, Ganshaw, Garcia, Gennis, Gerard, Gericke, Gilbert, Glassman, Glazer, Gomendio, Gonzalez, Greenstein, Guglielmo, Gurman, Haberkorn, Hoskins, Hussein, Hamm, Hardwick, Harrell, Hauptman, Hawkins, Henderson, Hayman, Hibara, Hehmann, Herbst, Hedges, Hogan, Hoffman, Horowitz, Hsu, Huber, Ikiz, Jaroschy, Johann, Jacobs, Jara, Johnson, Kassel, Keegan, Kuroda, Kavanau, Keller, Kevill, Kiew, Kimbrough, Kline, Kossoff, Kotzitzky, Kahn, Kiesler, Kosser, Korte, Leibowitz, Lin, Liu, Lowrance, Lundh, Laux, Leifer, Leung, Levine, Leiw, Lockwood, Logrono, Lohnes, Lowet, Laber, Leonardi, Marten, McLean, Michaels, Miranda, Moy, Marin, Muir, Murphy, Marodon, Matos, Mendoza, Muraki, Neck, Needham, Noboa, Null, O’Flynn, O’Neill, Orlowski, Perkins, Pieper, Pierre, Pons, Pruska, Paulino, Popper, Potter, Purpura, Palma, Perez, Portocarrero, Punwasi, Rader, Rankin, Ray, Reyes, Richardson, Ritter, Roos, Rose, Rosenfeld, Roth, Rutherford, Rustin, Ramos, Regan, Reisman, Renkert, Roberts, Rowan, Rene, Rosario, Rothbart, Saperstein, Schoenbrod, Schwed, Sears, Statosky, Sutphen, Sheehy, Silverton, Silverman, Silverstein, Sklar, Slotkin, Speros, Stollman, Sadowski, Schles, Shapiro, Sigdel, Snow, Spencer, Steinkol, Stewart, Stires, Stopnik, Stonehill, Tayss, Tilney, Temple, Torfield, Townsend, Trimpin, Turchin, Villa, Vasillov, Voda, Waring, Weber, Weinstein, Wang, Wegimont, Weed, Weishaus.  

When I took this test, I scored a 72.  Gladwell says that “the first–and most obvious–criterion is that Connectors know lots of people.”  One of my close high school friends used to joke that I know everyone because whenever we were out, I would see four or five people or more that I knew.  There was a running joke that if I went to a different state, I would still see someone I know.

I never took this joke seriously until a few years ago my wife and I were at King’s Island and I bumped into a lady I used to teach with.  The next summer, I was in line for a ride at Cedar Point and realized I was just a few people behind one of the school counselors at GW. 

Wait… it gets better.  The following year, I traveled to Disney World with my wife and kids.  Keep in mind that Disney has four parks, each of which has hundreds if not thousands of people in attendance.  We were walking through Magic Kingdom when I spotted a student of mine and her father, sitting on a bench.

Gladwell says, “Sprinkled among every walk of life, in other words, are a handful of people with a truly extraordinary knack of making friends and acquaintances. They are Connectors.”  I don’t know if I’m a connector or not, but I do know a lot of people.  Gladwell also points out that most people score around 20 or less.

It isn’t hard to believe that I know a lot of people.  I have worked in fast food, retail, and at the local movie theater.  And as a teacher, I have approximately 125 students and I get to know many of their parents, as well.  So I get the opportunity to get to know 200+ people a year.  And I’m grateful for every one of them.

Try this test out and see how you score.  I was thinking of trying it with a local phone book, but I don’t know if it would be as effective.

Until later– “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

Boredom has repercussions. I just answered a 33 question personality quiz and these were the results. Hope this code works:

Take Free Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Man, what harsh results. Especially the part about being “overly talkative… at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests…” Am I really that awful? I agree with the whole “overly flexible” and “improvised… at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.”

Come to think of it, I remember a conversation I had with a college friend that went something like this:

Friend: “You know, the thing I admire most about you is also the thing I hate most.”

Me: “What’s that?”

Friend: “You’ll talk to anybody. It’s like no one is a stranger to you and you know so many people. You’re like a politician or a celebrity or something.”

Me: “Okay? And you hate that… why?”

Friend: “You are under the mistaken assumption that everyone wants to or even needs to talk to you. You force your conversations onto people who may or may not even care what you have to say.”

Me: (pause) “Yeah, but… isn’t that how we became friends?”

Friend: (longer pause) “I said I admired it and hated it.”

So that’s me. “Overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.” But that is how I have made (and in some cases kept) 90% of my friends.

Until later– “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

Want to tap into some forgotten part of yourself? I’ve perfected this more than I should be proud of. I have even managed to break myself down into tears trying this out. Heed this warning, though: Trying any of the following might just put you on an emotional roller-coaster that is undeniably out of your control.

1. Listen to a song from your past: This is more successful if you choose a song from a very significant time in your life and if you haven’t heard the song for a long time. The other day, I heard “Freshman” by the Verve Pipe and I was transported to trying to scrunch into the back seat of a Chevy Cavalier with three friends on our way to the mall. Most of those faces are strangers to me now but hearing this song brought all of them flowing back. “For the life of me, I cannot remember what made us think that we were wise and we’d never compromise…We’ve tried to wash our hands of all of this. We never talk of our lack in relationships and how we’re guilt stricken sobbin’ with our heads on the floor. We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip…” Man, that was some good stuff.

2. Watch a movie: This is also more effective if you haven’t seen the film for a while and if you once watched it with someone close to you. I rummaged through my VHS tapes and found my copies of Casino and Goodfellas. Once again, memories of propping my feet up on the arm of my friend’s basement couch with the rest of the group sprawled out on the floor, in lounge chairs, staying up until 4 a.m. for our Mobster Movie Marathon. Other films of this famous insomnia inducer included Godfather I and II (we cursed III), Scarface, and Heat.

3. Read one of your favorite children’s books: This is a sad one. This summer, one of my fellow CWVWP participants taught a grammar lesson in which she passed out copies of Amelia Bedelia books to us. I spotted the one I wanted right away. Amelia Bedelia Goes Camping. Just seeing that book brought a wave of memories that nearly sent me out of the room in tears. And I had to fight them back again as I read the book aloud. My grandfather took me to the Cross Lanes library when I was about five or six and this was one of the books I chose. He read it to me in his gruff smoker’s voice, his country accent adding to the humor. Six years later, he died of a stroke on Christmas Eve. Seeing that book… man… it was like looking right into his face again. Moments like that can sweep you off of your feet before you know it.

So, that’s my adventure into the old vault. Heed my warning, though. Objects in the rear-view mirror are closer than they appear.

Until later– “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

            It’s a sign of age when the things you learned to love and expect are no longer there.  For example, I spent a lot of time during my high school days at the Charleston Town Center Mall… and I mean a lot of time.

            It quickly became a tradition to spend the night at my best friend Eugene’s house every Friday night, sometimes as many as six or seven of us, sleeping on the floor or  (when the weather cooperated) outside on the porch.  We would stay up late, talking, watching television, playing video games until someone finally wizened up and said, “Guys, we need to get some sleep.”

            Although I was usually one of the last to fall asleep, I was always the first one up, sometimes before sunrise.  I would quietly get showered, dressed, hair fixed, teeth brushed.  Then I would carefully, cautiously wake up every guy in the group by flipping on lights or shaking them with my foot.

            “Get up, guys, come on, let’s go, we’ve gotta catch the bus.”  Of course, they would all groan.  At times, it would be like waltzing through a lion’s den, pulling each lion by the ear.  But I always persisted and the guys would get up, one by one.  There was always a special order to things.  Since
Eugene was our host, he was first of the late risers to the shower.  Will would call “shotgun” on the shower next.  Then, as the door opened, steam pouring out and filling the hallway, John would kick Will in the shin, sending him to the floor, and proudly carry his clothes to the bathroom.  Jamie would apologize for his brother’s harassment and promise Will that he could have the shower next.  As John swung the door open, spilling out yet another blast of steam, Jamie would sneak behind Will’s back and into the bathroom.

            This went on until Will was last and all hot water had been exhausted.  He always handled it like a trooper, only whining a little after his shower.  We laughed as he shivered and assured him that next time he had dibs on the shower, after
Eugene, of course.

            We rarely took more money than was necessary to catch the bus.  Why should we?  We weren’t going to the mall to shop.  We were going to spend the most valuable days of our live with each other.  Oh, yeah, and to meet girls.  Many of our relationships started and ended in the hallways of the mall, out in the parking garage, and sometimes on the bus trips to and from.

            It may sound odd, but one of my favorite things to do once we arrived was to ride the elevator from the third-floor picnic area to the first floor.  There was a small pool of water beneath the elevators with small fountains sprouting up all around.  I used to imagine that the elevator would keep going down, below the water, and there would be this new secret world under the surface of the mall.

            And now, ten years later, I am sitting on a carpeted floor that used to be the water fountains, watching nearby Starbuck’s customers as they sip their coffees slowly, wishing time would stop and keep them there just a little longer.

           Much has changed.  The escalator is still there, the same up-escalator that I tried to walk down and nearly broke my ankle.  The same escalator where I learned that if you kick it in just the right place hard enough, it will stop running.  But now sadly, the fountain is gone.  Just carpet and tables for coffee drinkers.  The childish part of me thinks the carpet was put there to hide the underground kingdom once and for all.  Will got married and no longer speaks to any of us.  Jamie joined the Army National Guard and is somewhere in Iraq.  John still lives with his father and makes a little bit of money repairing firearms in his basement.  Eugene moved to Sheffield, Ohio where he enjoys a daily view of Erie Lake and works in one of the tallest buildings in Cleveland.

           And I am still the old me, father of two and happily married, wondering if there is another world beneath my feet, wishing I could try the escalator thing again.  The same old stories are calling to me:  Spencer’s, Hot Topic, F.Y.E.  And like before, I’m not here to shop.  I’m here just to enjoy.