TED — a nonprofit devoted to spreading important ideas — published a 5 minute talk from Anne Marie Thomas, in which she demonstrates a super quick and amazingly simple way to build cheap, simple electrical circuits from homemade play dough. It’s terrific and — if you haven’t already taken the 5 minutes to watch it — don’t miss it.

I found it fascinating is to look at the comments. Some critics deride the message as “dumbing down TED” because it’s not scientific research or groundbreaking journalism. But considering American students consistently score behind other industrialized countries in Science and Math, maybe this is one of TED’s most important messages yet.

After all, improving kids’ science achievement won’t happen by teaching to standardized tests; it will only happen if we can foster a sense of passion and excitement for the sciences. Arming schools, teachers and families with gee-whiz demonstrations that get kids stoked for science is a great step in that direction.

I think this comment from Tobias Duncan sums up the potential power of simple ideas:

My fourth grade teacher had a box full of batteries, wires, light bulbs and electric motors. If I finished my work quickly,I was allowed to spend time with box of goodies.I have to say it was life changing.I can not overstate the impact it had on me . This is even cooler.

John Wooden, legendary coach for the UCLA Bruins, died yesterday at age 99. Beyond telling the story of a life well-lived, Wooden’s New York Times obituary briefly notes:

[Wooden] always carried a piece of paper with a message from his father that read: ‘Be true to yourself. Make each day a masterpiece. Help others. Drink deeply from good books. Make friendship a fine art. Build a shelter against a rainy day.’

These are awesome examples of what my family calls ‘First Things’.  First Things are what you value most (it’s taken from the the saying “Put first things first…”). First things are what you prioritize — the non-negotiable things that don’t bend when life gets hard or busy.  Some folks call them ‘guiding principles’ or ‘core values’; I call them ‘First Things’.

The thought of Wooden ‘carrying a piece of paper with a message from his father…’ is powerful imagery for me. I picture hand-lettered words on a tattered slip of paper in Wooden’s wallet. I picture the words in squiggly cursive, with shadows where the letters had been re-drawn after getting worn from a trip through the washing machine.

And it makes me wonder: after I’m dead and gone — when they ask my boys what my First Things were — how might they respond? More importantly could I respond if you asked me while I’m still here?

So I’m resolving to write down my First Things. And I’m going to take a lesson from Joshua Hugh Wooden (Wooden’s dad): My First Things must fit on a business card. That way my kids can carry them around for the next 100 or so years.

You can read John Wooden’s full obituary here.
photo credit: Rich Clarkson/Sports Illustrated, via Getty Images

We recently published a poem called The Linchpin, which was inspired by Seth Godin’s new book by the same name.  In tribute to Seth Godin’s belief in spreading ideas, I thought it would be fitting to give away my copy of Linchpin (notes and all).  We had a bunch of people throw their name into the virtual hat and I pulled out @indiehotelier.

As an experiment, I thought it would be fun to ask recipient(s) to pass it along when they’re done — to create a “Catch and Release” copy of the book.  So I added a note to the front of the book asking readers to pass the book along and “Check In” over on our review of Linchpin.  It will be fun to see where the book goes.

First stop: Little Rock, Arkansas

Comments closed on this post.  Instead, leave your comments over here.

Like all of you, Haiti has weighed heavily on my heart me these past few days. I don’t have any brilliant insight to provide — I’m struggling with all the same emotions: extreme sadness, desire to help, frustration that aid is slow to get there…

But this morning I stopped to think about the news and images I’ve seen over the past few days, and the emotional toll they’ve taken on me. And I started wondering if I’ve done all that I could — or should — to engage or prepare my kids for what they might see in the coming days and weeks.

My boys are 4 and 1. To date, we’ve just tried to shield them from the story. I think that’s the obvious and correct approach for a 1 year old. But I wonder if there isn’t more I should do with my 4 year old? I obviously would never share the graphic details or expose him to the images… if the impact of those images on my adult brain is a guide, his 4 year-old head might just melt. But I wondered if I should mention the disaster — and our collective response to it — to prepare him for things he sees or hears or senses.

PBS has published what I found to be a very helpful age-specific guide for talking with your children about the news. You can find it here.

Based on their recommendations, I plan to have a VERY general conversation around the issue.  To ask him if he’s heard of Haiti.  To probe about whether he’s seen or heard anything from his friends or teachers.  And to share some broad facts with him:  there was an earthquake, lots of people are hurt, some have died, we are trying to help with our money and prayers, you are safe.

I’d be interested to hear how or whether you are talking to your own children or grandchildren about Haiti and suffering in general.

P.S.  If you’re wondering what you can do to help the relief effort, here are a few ideas.

photo by MikeWebkist

Four years ago I sat down and started ‘a weekend project’. We were expecting our first baby a few months later and my plan was to write a book for our child.

One thing that’s worth noting is that I am – without a doubt – the world’s worst estimator. If I think a project will take four hours, plan on sixteen. If I say I can build you a sofa table — just like the one in the Pottery Barn catalog! — and I can do it over the weekend… well, then plan on not seeing me for a month.

Looking back on my plan to write and illustrate a children’s book in a weekend seems totally absurd – even to me. But I mention it to demonstrate low expectations. This wasn’t something I planned to sell. It wasn’t even something I planned to share. I planned to print a copy, write something clever and tender inside and read it to our kids as they grew up. I wanted to be able to say, “I made this. I made this for you. I love you.” That’s it.

It took (a lot) more than a weekend. But I doubt the crummy writing and amateur illustrations will convince you of that. And I never got a copy printed. Never wrote inside the cover. Never read it to our kids. In fact, I hadn’t thought about it in four years – until I started looking back on how MarbleSpark came to be.

But this was the first step. This dumb little idea led to others, which eventually led to Following Featherbottom. Which led to MarbleSpark. Which leads to everything that happens from here on out. This book was the flap of a butterfly’s wing that started the MarbleSpark hurricane.

Below, I present to you – in its first (and probably final) appearance to the public – Bobby blew a bubble.

Post script: I finally did read the digital version to Thing 1 this past weekend – and we read it again, and again, and again… He shares my sense of humor and the bubbles in the bathtub bring down the house every time.

We’re overdoing it.  Mozart in utero.  Shuffling three-year olds from soccer to swimming to piano.  Dunking them in antibacterial soap.  Hovering at the playground, ready to swoop in and save her from that big bully, Hannah.  Junior gets a C+ in math and we call the school to demand ‘ANSWERS!’  We’ve come to view Parenthood as Project Management – and our kids are Version 1.0.

Hyper-parenting is the new normal.  “Keeping up with the Jones” isn’t just about cars or homes anymore.  We’re engaged in an arms-race to build nuclear children.  If you’re not training a three-sport athlete by age four, it’s hard not to wonder, “Will my kid be the last picked?”  Suddenly, children playing outdoors by themselves (*gasp* in the street!) are a product of parental neglect.

It all seems unhealthy.

Unhealthy for kids: we’re stripping them of the opportunity to make choices and fail. Which stinks, since failing and trying again is the only way humans truly learn and grow.

Unhealthy for families: lost in the shuffle is time to laugh, play and grow together.

Unhealthy for society: we’re creating burned-out, failure-fearing, helpless young adults who finally learn action/consequence at age 18…or later.

Let’s slow down.  Drop the fallacy of perfection.  Let our kids fail.  Send them outside to play.  Ditch a few activities.  Play a game.  Laugh.  Seek balance.

Simplify.  (Sorry, gotta run — we’re late for swimming lessons!)

Note: this riff was inspired by Seth Godin’s shiny new eBook “What matters now“.  If you haven’t already, go read it.

Seth Godin — along with a troupe of about 70 writers, thinkers and activists — just published a free eBook.  It’s a collection of “things to think about (and do) this year.”  Each contributer writes a quick blurb about a single word (idea, really).

My favorite?  Gumption.  By J.C. Hutchins.  Second to last page.  Don’t miss it.  Is there a better word in the English language?

Click here to download the eBook.  It’s a good splash of cold water as we head into 2010.

So what do you think?  What matters now?

cover art by Thomas Hawk

One of the best measures of a man is what he does when he has nothing to do. ~Robert Edison Fulton

Robert Edison Fulton invented the Airphibian, the first ‘roadable airplane’: an automobile you could fly or an airplane you could drive.  I like to imagine Fulton tinkering around in the garage when he came up with a crack-pot idea – and then he had the stamina to build it, get it approved, and to tool around in the contraption for over 100,000 miles.  Because of huge development expenses, Fulton was forced to sell the Airphibian to a company that never manufactured it.  Some considered it a bad idea:  a 1989 a Smithsonian magazine article said it was “underpowered as an airplane and overpowered as a car.”  I happen to consider it an amazing idea — and Fulton an amazing man.

At age 24, Fulton drove 24,000 miles on a motorcycle — nearly all the way around the world — to “see great architecture”.  According to the New York Times, Fulton “spent a night in a Turkish jail, dodged bandits in Iraq, was shot at by Pathan tribesmen in the Khyber Pass and was entertained by Indian rajahs.”  Fulton also invented the Skyhook, an aerial rescue system used secretly by the US military and intelligence agencies to grab embedded spies off the ground during the cold war (made famous by the Bond film Thunderball).

Obviously, the man practiced what he preached.

Fulton got it right.  Life is an adventure — a 60 to 80 year opportunity (God willing) — to dream and create.  Some of the greatest contributions to humankind have sprung from the minds of tinkerers.  Consider Benjamin Franklin or Leonardo DaVinci.  The common denominator among these men seems to be a deep curiosity, a keen power of observation, and a tireless spirit.

What are you doing when you have nothing to do?

It has been my observation that most people get ahead during the time that others waste. ~Henry Ford

More information about Fulton in this New York Times obituary.
Photo from Airphibian.com

Teddy said it was a hat, so I put it on. Now dad is saying, “where the heck’s the toilet plunger gone?” ~ Shel Silverstein

Here’s a million dollar idea. Yours free. In 2003, I opened the hall closet and saw the toilet plunger sitting on the shelf next to our bath towels. I’m not easily disgusted — but that just didn’t seem right.

So I drew up plans for an idea that could revolutionize fine bathroom design: a luxury stainless-steel plunger and plunger stand. It takes the idea of the clam-shell toilet-brush holder and applies it to the plunger. Because nothing says “I’ve arrived” like an industrial grade stainless steel plunger sitting next to the commode.

I never really got around to product naming. But I’m sure you can do better than “The Plunger-shell”. Tell you what: submit your product name ideas in the comments below. Best name submitted by December 31st, 2009 — as determined by an independent panel of judges chosen by yours truly — gets a free copy of Following Featherbottom.

So there. It’s yours. I’ve even included the detailed plans below. I hereby give you permission to go forth and get rich. Wait, somebody already did.

This post is part of the Bad Ideas series.

We decked the halls last weekend.  Christmas tree.  Christmas ornaments.  Christmas lights.  Harry Connick, Jr. doing his best pa-rump-ah-pum-pum.  Enough to make me long for Thanksgiving again.

But no Christmas stockings.  We considered it.  Even put the 20-pound stocking hangers on the mantle.  But as I hung the first stocking, we looked over at Thing 2 and saw — ding — a flash in his eye.  And the thought of our toddler in the ER with a severe head wound canceled that plan in a hurry.

My wife asked me to it the easy way: pound some nails into the mantle, hang the stockings and be done with it.  The easy-way and I have never been friends.  I decided there must be a way to avoid the nail-holes, use the stocking-holders and save a toddler’s life.  In the process I learned how not to child-proof your holiday stockings.

In my attempt to avoid holes in the mantle the first thing I did was drill two holes in the mantle. One on the underside of each end (in my defense, they were well-hidden holes).  I inserted two small screws and tied down a support wire from one end of the mantle to the other, which was hidden by a the string of holly on the mantle.  Finally, I connected each toddler-killer stocking hanger to the main support wire.

Then it struck me that Thing 2 would not be gently tugging the stockings.  He’d be swinging all 25 of his pounds like tarzan.

So I pounded four nails into the mantle and was done with it.  The only redeeming quality of this bad idea was a lesson I never quite seem to fully grasp: sometimes the easy way is also the best way.

This post is part of the Bad Ideas series.