Oh my gosh, so much to unpack here! First, thank you for bringing me back to the DQ. My first "real" job was at the Dairy Queen down the street from my house in Lincoln City, Oregon. It was owned by a Korean couple, Mr and Mrs Oh, and while we also kept "mistakes," they shrewdly charged half price for them. Boy did that story bring me back to being 14 and working the counter in the heat of a tourist-filled summer at the beach!
But mostly, I want to thank you for saying what you said about this chest-thumping, d*ck-measuring contest between Newsom and Trump. As a Californian, I have been completely put off by the childish antics on display (even knowing that the person crafting most of the tweets in Newsom's name is a young woman, so there is that.... but that's a rant for another time about how we co-opt women into being complicit with misogyny and toxic masculinity). I will never forgive Newsom for his treatment of trans people, unhoused folks, and disabled folks in this state and have long believed that his ego and ultimate goal of reaching the white house drives him daily. If we continue to celebrate bullies, we will continue to be ruled by bullies. Is that what we really want? The biggest bully?
I clicked the link and read the Mandell story (https://archive.ph/K988S#selection-3493.0-3493.11). I noted the date (2010) and wondered where he was now. Found his obituary (he died right after traditional DQ opening day) from earlier this year and was gonna put that "in lieu of flowers" quote in a comment here. But then I finished reading your post and saw that you loved that quote as much as I did ... and that JoAnn died, too. And now I'm sad but happier for knowing about these people and this place and these mistakes you talk about.
A lover of stories, games, clever conversation, and heartfelt exchanges, Jo’s radiant laugh, beautiful smile, and sharp wit live on in all who were fortunate to know her and experience her deep insight. In her memory, whistle a favorite tune in public, share a classical record, shoot the moon in Hearts, strike up a conversation with a random stranger, dive into a novel or crossword, and above all — take the time to connect with someone the way Jo always did: with curiosity, sincerity, and compassion. She had a way of making you feel included and special, bringing joy and laughter to each encounter.
What I love is that they SAVED THE MISTAKES. I am trying to imagine anyplace (fast food or otherwise) that would put aside a wrong order & save it for kids later rather than just throw it away. (Two things: freezer space & health regs.)
Whimsy as a way to earnestly brighten a day is so underrated! I have a long story about origami to share now. I have a co-worker who has a lot of hand-craft hobbies. She reports being unable to keep her hands still when watching tv, etc., and brings in origami garlands to give away at work. Both my kids have a chain of tiny origami dinosaurs in their rooms now (did I scrutinize alllll the available options to find the two closest to identical to mitigate bickering? Did they manage to bicker anyway, about which SPECIES OF DINOSAUR the origami was to represent? Of course, and of course!). Another co-worker mentioned how much she loved origami, that she'd "work at an origami desk if she could" and this inspired the first to find a pattern to fold a tiny desk and chair, leaving it in her mailbox. This has now inspired a third co-worker to fold an origami lamp, and now there's a tiny office diorama being constructed in an unused mail box and it is GLORIOUS. People keep contributing tiny office accoutrements and this sort of collective delightful nonsense is wildly fun.
Unsurprisingly, this is the same co-worker who slowly re-named all our prosaically-numbered book carts to puns with images, and letting someone know that the set of titles that need re-processing or something is on "Cart Garfunkel" or "Dale EarnCart" is also underrated.
This was just perfect for today, when I am feeling overwhelmed, behind, and am making mistakes. (Technically I am not, because the mistake is that I'm dropping balls.)
The obituaries made me think about a former colleague, Paul Barnes. He was a counselor, and was so calm and calming and lovely. His obituary ended, "In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made by performing one act of kindness for a stranger in Paul’s memory."
Garrett, how dare you microtarget me like this. I attended Paxson Elementary in the 1980s, and walking to Dairy Queen for mistakes is genuinely my most cherished memory of that time. I tell my kids about it every time we're back in Missoula! Thank you for expanding my perspective on what that memory really means.
Also, I think I've seen you make this observation before (it's definitely one I've made). Obviously, Missoula is still a place in the U.S., which means that there are still limits on how much it can truly be set up to fully love children, but in that category (American towns) its still to this day just so much better at actually respecting and delighting children than just about anywhere else.
Thanks for this - both the love for Missoula (my folks lived there and I spent one crazy summer there in between college years - do you remember The Trading Post?) and for the reminder that we are the ones who must save ourselves. We (and by that I mean I) are all so hopeful for a savior.
Being of the age of your older brothers, moving to Missoula in my twenties in '94, my housemates and I would walk from Cottonwood/Orange to Higgin DQ in the evenings. Always happy faces (human and canine) laughter, in 30+ years never a negative experience there. In the Bitterroot for 25 years my husband and I will still stop if we happen to be in town on a summer evening. No rush, just delight💓
I was discussing with a friend recently when I became less paralyzed by the idea of making mistakes, which is really a question about when I finally laid down my shame at being human, instead deciding to be gentle and generally amused by my imperfect self. I couldn't remember when it was exactly. It wasn't one specific moment really. It was years of realizing that my shame and fear in the face of my own missteps then caused more missteps, like lying to cover my ass (my personal favorite) in an endless cycle of suck which no one was asking of me anymore. I was the only one who was requiring my perfection and punishing me when I missed the mark. So, I was the only one who could make it all stop. Which I did eventually, but it took time and practice to not run away from my own humiliation and discomfort, and then to realize that nothing bad had happened just because I screwed up somehow. The sky didn't fall. The world didn't end. Slowly, slowly, my nervous system calmed down.
For those of us who are anxious, traumatized rabbits, learning to make mistakes can be a long process. But I'm here to say that it can be done. Be gentle and patient with your human self.
In Back to School news, there will be no more photos out of my house because my youngest is IN COLLEGE. WTH??? For those of you olds who are still on the FaceSpace, this was my post about it:
Thank you for this. You’ve articulated so well doubts I’ve been having about hero worship no matter what the political party. And the worship of imagery (even as a joke) that excludes most people and our real strengths and gifts and possibilities disturbs me too. I’ve noticed I feel defensive saying anything like you did that involves critical or even nuanced thinking of “our side.” But a politics based on loyalty to shared fear of the other (even if the other is really dangerously corrupt) won’t likely bring the changes we need. Thank you again!
Just wanted to say thanks for your ongoing work…a tonic for these times. And I really liked what you had to say about the bullying rhetoric. We have some of that in Canada too. We need more empathy, more clarity, more critical thinking ….and definitely more whimsy!
The owner of the little Chinese take-out (cuz who could afford to eat in?!) restaurant on the way back to school (9-3) after lunch sold us kids a container of "to die for" french fries for a nickel. Often the triplets didn't have nearly enough so he told them it was a 3 for 2 day and charged a dime. The pharmacist in the tiny drug store on the corner bandaged my skinned knee on my way home from school and handed me a package of band-aids so "your Mom won't have to go hunting yours." Roller skates with keys and stained stuffed critters and dolls were passed around the apartment complex. When a friend dared me to climb onto the roof of another neighbor's brownstone and I fell off, I was brought in, washed up, and given a candy bar while she called my Mom cuz my twisted knee wasn't going to make it up to the third floor of our section of that apartment complex. Our next door third floor neighbor sat on her floor, 8 months pregnant, making me a jumper that Mom couldn't begin to afford and that I'd been eying in the little clothing store on the one main street in our Chicago neighborhood.
It was a different time, long before fast food chains, with a White Castle "spray-burger" the only fast food option, that showed up when I was a teenager. When Dairy Queen finally started opening near enough for a Sunday ride, those chocolate dipped cones were the ultimate treat.
Moms were stuck at home being limited, often frustrated, but loving wives and mommies. Dads were the breadwinners, not meant to share in home chores or have sad or lonely feelings, Kids were sent out to play in the neighborhood, due home for lunch, and again when it got dark, for dinner, and you'd better not be late., It was a different time. We really knew each other and all the adults looked out for all the kids, and BBQ was somewhere in the distant future of suburban life. It was easy to support and take care of each other because "strangers" lived 2 hours away by el and subway, and life felt safe.
Now I need to work at getting to know my neighbors, women work, kids are mostly in daycares up to age 5 and after school care until middle school. With key around neck, the older ones head home if they have that parent who expects a phone call once there. Houses and cars are locked, and the families who can afford it provide daily enrichment activities after school, with little to no unstructured time for creativity to develop. Even the care settings are so structured that most kids don't learn to interact, and that's followed by screen time. Random Acts of Kindness had to be created as a week focused on what you're asking us to be and do.
Yes, we NEED community and kindness and caring. What I question is what we're prepared to give up in order to redevelop it.
I think there may have been a correlation vs. a causation with the sort of childhood and neighborhood you refer to and women being stuck at home, frustrated, no? My hometown was one I'd bike to from the acreage I grew up on. My mom worked full time (with a wildly long and unpredictable commute, I may add) and a lot of what you remember echoes through my childhood experience a generation or two after yours, from my recollections of what things cost (fries would have been a buck, for example): my parents would get reports of my behavior/location from neighbors/friends (mostly good/expected, but with a clear undercurrent of "mind yourself, or your parents will hear about it"), I played with my grandparent's neighborhood kids/classmates in town, and did a lot of hanging out. Now? I'm extremely grateful and have zero qualms about having used full-time daycare to accommodate our family's dual-income needs (the fact that this is so needed and so inaccessible to so many? That gives me pause!). My daughter and one of her closest daycare buddies have an elaborate plan to meet up every weekend to keep the other informed of how kindergarten is going (they finally informed us of their plans last weekend upon being amazed to find out they can't execute their plans for cross town meetings without parental assistance, so we're meeting up at a park to make it happen on Saturday), and both my now school-aged children are getting together with neighborhood kids AFTER after school care (and once homework is done, dinner eaten, etc.) to continue what they were doing together in the extended day program.
Respectfully, people ARE developing community and kindness and caring. It is alive and growing RIGHT NOW. It will be hard to see if you are looking for it in how it used to manifest. The community my neighborhood is building has both everything and nothing to do with my/my neighbors' work schedules--daycare and after school care can extend that community in more ways than it obstructs it. My doors are locked, sure, but they open at every knock.
Oh my gosh, so much to unpack here! First, thank you for bringing me back to the DQ. My first "real" job was at the Dairy Queen down the street from my house in Lincoln City, Oregon. It was owned by a Korean couple, Mr and Mrs Oh, and while we also kept "mistakes," they shrewdly charged half price for them. Boy did that story bring me back to being 14 and working the counter in the heat of a tourist-filled summer at the beach!
But mostly, I want to thank you for saying what you said about this chest-thumping, d*ck-measuring contest between Newsom and Trump. As a Californian, I have been completely put off by the childish antics on display (even knowing that the person crafting most of the tweets in Newsom's name is a young woman, so there is that.... but that's a rant for another time about how we co-opt women into being complicit with misogyny and toxic masculinity). I will never forgive Newsom for his treatment of trans people, unhoused folks, and disabled folks in this state and have long believed that his ego and ultimate goal of reaching the white house drives him daily. If we continue to celebrate bullies, we will continue to be ruled by bullies. Is that what we really want? The biggest bully?
"If we continue to celebrate bullies, we will continue to be ruled by bullies." YES!
And also, sincerely, THANK YOU FOR YOUR DQ SERVICE!
I clicked the link and read the Mandell story (https://archive.ph/K988S#selection-3493.0-3493.11). I noted the date (2010) and wondered where he was now. Found his obituary (he died right after traditional DQ opening day) from earlier this year and was gonna put that "in lieu of flowers" quote in a comment here. But then I finished reading your post and saw that you loved that quote as much as I did ... and that JoAnn died, too. And now I'm sad but happier for knowing about these people and this place and these mistakes you talk about.
Thanks.
I love what the family said about JoAnn, too:
A lover of stories, games, clever conversation, and heartfelt exchanges, Jo’s radiant laugh, beautiful smile, and sharp wit live on in all who were fortunate to know her and experience her deep insight. In her memory, whistle a favorite tune in public, share a classical record, shoot the moon in Hearts, strike up a conversation with a random stranger, dive into a novel or crossword, and above all — take the time to connect with someone the way Jo always did: with curiosity, sincerity, and compassion. She had a way of making you feel included and special, bringing joy and laughter to each encounter.
Isn't that just the best? I love when an obituary truly shows how special somebody was.
What I love is that they SAVED THE MISTAKES. I am trying to imagine anyplace (fast food or otherwise) that would put aside a wrong order & save it for kids later rather than just throw it away. (Two things: freezer space & health regs.)
This is something I need to consider.
I am now so curious as to how big their freezer is!
Whimsy as a way to earnestly brighten a day is so underrated! I have a long story about origami to share now. I have a co-worker who has a lot of hand-craft hobbies. She reports being unable to keep her hands still when watching tv, etc., and brings in origami garlands to give away at work. Both my kids have a chain of tiny origami dinosaurs in their rooms now (did I scrutinize alllll the available options to find the two closest to identical to mitigate bickering? Did they manage to bicker anyway, about which SPECIES OF DINOSAUR the origami was to represent? Of course, and of course!). Another co-worker mentioned how much she loved origami, that she'd "work at an origami desk if she could" and this inspired the first to find a pattern to fold a tiny desk and chair, leaving it in her mailbox. This has now inspired a third co-worker to fold an origami lamp, and now there's a tiny office diorama being constructed in an unused mail box and it is GLORIOUS. People keep contributing tiny office accoutrements and this sort of collective delightful nonsense is wildly fun.
Unsurprisingly, this is the same co-worker who slowly re-named all our prosaically-numbered book carts to puns with images, and letting someone know that the set of titles that need re-processing or something is on "Cart Garfunkel" or "Dale EarnCart" is also underrated.
In Spite of Ourselves is one of my favorite songs!!
so good
This was just perfect for today, when I am feeling overwhelmed, behind, and am making mistakes. (Technically I am not, because the mistake is that I'm dropping balls.)
The obituaries made me think about a former colleague, Paul Barnes. He was a counselor, and was so calm and calming and lovely. His obituary ended, "In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made by performing one act of kindness for a stranger in Paul’s memory."
Garrett, how dare you microtarget me like this. I attended Paxson Elementary in the 1980s, and walking to Dairy Queen for mistakes is genuinely my most cherished memory of that time. I tell my kids about it every time we're back in Missoula! Thank you for expanding my perspective on what that memory really means.
You do realize that 60% of this whole newsletter is an elaborate microtargeting experiment on you, right?
Also, I think I've seen you make this observation before (it's definitely one I've made). Obviously, Missoula is still a place in the U.S., which means that there are still limits on how much it can truly be set up to fully love children, but in that category (American towns) its still to this day just so much better at actually respecting and delighting children than just about anywhere else.
Thanks for this - both the love for Missoula (my folks lived there and I spent one crazy summer there in between college years - do you remember The Trading Post?) and for the reminder that we are the ones who must save ourselves. We (and by that I mean I) are all so hopeful for a savior.
I do remember The Trading Post! Missoula is an incredible place for many things, but definitely for having one crazy summer in ones 20s.
Being of the age of your older brothers, moving to Missoula in my twenties in '94, my housemates and I would walk from Cottonwood/Orange to Higgin DQ in the evenings. Always happy faces (human and canine) laughter, in 30+ years never a negative experience there. In the Bitterroot for 25 years my husband and I will still stop if we happen to be in town on a summer evening. No rush, just delight💓
No rush, just delight!
Also: oh my god Missoula in the 90s. So wonderful in so many ways.
I was discussing with a friend recently when I became less paralyzed by the idea of making mistakes, which is really a question about when I finally laid down my shame at being human, instead deciding to be gentle and generally amused by my imperfect self. I couldn't remember when it was exactly. It wasn't one specific moment really. It was years of realizing that my shame and fear in the face of my own missteps then caused more missteps, like lying to cover my ass (my personal favorite) in an endless cycle of suck which no one was asking of me anymore. I was the only one who was requiring my perfection and punishing me when I missed the mark. So, I was the only one who could make it all stop. Which I did eventually, but it took time and practice to not run away from my own humiliation and discomfort, and then to realize that nothing bad had happened just because I screwed up somehow. The sky didn't fall. The world didn't end. Slowly, slowly, my nervous system calmed down.
For those of us who are anxious, traumatized rabbits, learning to make mistakes can be a long process. But I'm here to say that it can be done. Be gentle and patient with your human self.
In Back to School news, there will be no more photos out of my house because my youngest is IN COLLEGE. WTH??? For those of you olds who are still on the FaceSpace, this was my post about it:
https://www.facebook.com/asha.sanaker/posts/pfbid0QWTJDqiWsU3z3MieSEJhHmybabkGHbjpk7Ws6gWJXrdH241AMmhBo6NrcDz3HBuYl
You say DQ, I think this: https://youtu.be/801Yrh8T0fI?si=iU_2mQwJagmJgH4k
Yes!!
Thank you for this. You’ve articulated so well doubts I’ve been having about hero worship no matter what the political party. And the worship of imagery (even as a joke) that excludes most people and our real strengths and gifts and possibilities disturbs me too. I’ve noticed I feel defensive saying anything like you did that involves critical or even nuanced thinking of “our side.” But a politics based on loyalty to shared fear of the other (even if the other is really dangerously corrupt) won’t likely bring the changes we need. Thank you again!
Hi Garrett,
Just wanted to say thanks for your ongoing work…a tonic for these times. And I really liked what you had to say about the bullying rhetoric. We have some of that in Canada too. We need more empathy, more clarity, more critical thinking ….and definitely more whimsy!
And thanks for the John Prine!
The owner of the little Chinese take-out (cuz who could afford to eat in?!) restaurant on the way back to school (9-3) after lunch sold us kids a container of "to die for" french fries for a nickel. Often the triplets didn't have nearly enough so he told them it was a 3 for 2 day and charged a dime. The pharmacist in the tiny drug store on the corner bandaged my skinned knee on my way home from school and handed me a package of band-aids so "your Mom won't have to go hunting yours." Roller skates with keys and stained stuffed critters and dolls were passed around the apartment complex. When a friend dared me to climb onto the roof of another neighbor's brownstone and I fell off, I was brought in, washed up, and given a candy bar while she called my Mom cuz my twisted knee wasn't going to make it up to the third floor of our section of that apartment complex. Our next door third floor neighbor sat on her floor, 8 months pregnant, making me a jumper that Mom couldn't begin to afford and that I'd been eying in the little clothing store on the one main street in our Chicago neighborhood.
It was a different time, long before fast food chains, with a White Castle "spray-burger" the only fast food option, that showed up when I was a teenager. When Dairy Queen finally started opening near enough for a Sunday ride, those chocolate dipped cones were the ultimate treat.
Moms were stuck at home being limited, often frustrated, but loving wives and mommies. Dads were the breadwinners, not meant to share in home chores or have sad or lonely feelings, Kids were sent out to play in the neighborhood, due home for lunch, and again when it got dark, for dinner, and you'd better not be late., It was a different time. We really knew each other and all the adults looked out for all the kids, and BBQ was somewhere in the distant future of suburban life. It was easy to support and take care of each other because "strangers" lived 2 hours away by el and subway, and life felt safe.
Now I need to work at getting to know my neighbors, women work, kids are mostly in daycares up to age 5 and after school care until middle school. With key around neck, the older ones head home if they have that parent who expects a phone call once there. Houses and cars are locked, and the families who can afford it provide daily enrichment activities after school, with little to no unstructured time for creativity to develop. Even the care settings are so structured that most kids don't learn to interact, and that's followed by screen time. Random Acts of Kindness had to be created as a week focused on what you're asking us to be and do.
Yes, we NEED community and kindness and caring. What I question is what we're prepared to give up in order to redevelop it.
I think there may have been a correlation vs. a causation with the sort of childhood and neighborhood you refer to and women being stuck at home, frustrated, no? My hometown was one I'd bike to from the acreage I grew up on. My mom worked full time (with a wildly long and unpredictable commute, I may add) and a lot of what you remember echoes through my childhood experience a generation or two after yours, from my recollections of what things cost (fries would have been a buck, for example): my parents would get reports of my behavior/location from neighbors/friends (mostly good/expected, but with a clear undercurrent of "mind yourself, or your parents will hear about it"), I played with my grandparent's neighborhood kids/classmates in town, and did a lot of hanging out. Now? I'm extremely grateful and have zero qualms about having used full-time daycare to accommodate our family's dual-income needs (the fact that this is so needed and so inaccessible to so many? That gives me pause!). My daughter and one of her closest daycare buddies have an elaborate plan to meet up every weekend to keep the other informed of how kindergarten is going (they finally informed us of their plans last weekend upon being amazed to find out they can't execute their plans for cross town meetings without parental assistance, so we're meeting up at a park to make it happen on Saturday), and both my now school-aged children are getting together with neighborhood kids AFTER after school care (and once homework is done, dinner eaten, etc.) to continue what they were doing together in the extended day program.
Respectfully, people ARE developing community and kindness and caring. It is alive and growing RIGHT NOW. It will be hard to see if you are looking for it in how it used to manifest. The community my neighborhood is building has both everything and nothing to do with my/my neighbors' work schedules--daycare and after school care can extend that community in more ways than it obstructs it. My doors are locked, sure, but they open at every knock.