You have until noon on Tuesday to guess it. City and/or state first, then country. Please put the location in the subject heading, along with any description within the email. If no one guesses the exact location, proximity counts. Be sure to email entries to contest@andrewsullivan.com. Winner gets a free The View From Your Window book or a Dish t-shirt. Have at it.
Cody Delistraty finds value in it:
Why write down routine conversations, ones we’ve had a million times and will have a million times more? Isn’t it more important to remember extraordinary moments: first steps, graduations, jobs, awards, marriage, retirement, vacations? Yet people seldom realize how fondly they will look back on days spent mundanely: a day spent reading in the bay window, a picnic in the park with friends. These things may not stick out while they are happening, but revisiting them can be a great pleasure.
Ting Zhang’s research backs this up:
Asked to write down what they were doing on an ordinary day (a few days before Valentine’s Day) and then on an extraordinary day (on Valentine’s Day), participants had more pleasure reading their entry about the ordinary day three months later than their entry about the extraordinary day. The ordinary experience had also been more difficult to remember than the extraordinary one and so its rediscovery felt fresher.
Still, most people Zhang asked didn’t feel like recording their day. Given a choice between writing about their day for five minutes or watching a talk show host interview an author for an equal amount of time, only 27 percent of people chose to document their day and only 28 percent of people—regardless of whether they chose to write or not—thought that they would care later about what they were doing that day. Three months later, 58 percent of people said they regretted choosing the talk show clip over journaling. They were bad at estimating how much they’d value the present once it became the past.
“They choose to forgo opportunities to document experiences in the present,” Zhang writes, “only to find themselves wanting to retrieve those records in the future.”
Jessica Lahey is an advocate for it:
Society’s well-intentioned attempts to shelter children from the possibility of inappropriate touching have deprived teachers of an important teaching tool and children of an essential sensory, educational, and developmental experience. The imposition of an invisible no-touch force field around classrooms is misguided and destructive, according to the National Association for the Education of Young Children. The organization issued a clear policy statement instructing that schools and other organizations “should not institute no-touch policies to reduce the risk of abuse” and stating that “no-touch policies are misguided efforts that fail to recognize the importance of touch to children’s healthy development.”
Adelans, France, 12 pm
We could all use some more of these right now:
In case the Dish doesn’t go ahead, I have an eggcorn to share. My wife and I both work, so we have a nanny for our two kids. We live in SE Asia, and our nanny speaks English fairly well, but it’s her second language. Instead of belly-button, she says “belly-bottom”, so now my 3 year old does as well. It makes me smile every time.
Another kiddo:
My 9-year-old niece, who arrived from Thailand only six months ago, is determined to learn English. When her father said she and her mother could go to the store without him, she replied, “No, that is something we should do threegether.” (Not “together.”)
And another:
This just happened and it’s too cute not to share. My five-year-old son is into bluegrass, particularly the banjo.
For Christmas we got him a few albums, including Mumford and Sons (not exactly bluegrass, but heavy on the banjo). Today was our first time listening to the album, and when it was over, I asked if he wanted to listen again or pick something else. His reply? “More Mumford and songs!” Made me laugh out loud. (I explained that they are actually “and sons“, but he’s decided that his version is better, so that’s what we’ll be calling them in our house now).
Another reflects on his own childhood:
When I was little, I was terrified of going in the ocean because when my father described to me about the dangerous undertow that is very strong and can pull you out to sea, I heard “undertoad”. It was a good couple of years until I realized the truth, and during that time I marveled at my friends bravery for ignoring the threat of the Undertoad as they swam happily about.
Another turns to politics:
You might enjoy the line under the video in this article:
McCain was interrupted multiple times by boos and at one point a member of the crowd shouts “you’re a war mongrel [sic].”
As my friend Jonny used to say, “it’s guys like McCain that get my dandruff up.”
Along similar lines:
From a FB comment on the TX Lt. Gov’s recent statement on open carry:
…no, I wasn’t misinformed by the media, I read your actual quote. It was a weak comment that showed lack of support when you said it wasn’t a priority. You instead could have prevented this mail-storm if you had made a strong comment…
Another reader:
On a recent flight from Yangon to Bangkok, the pre-take-off security announcement included: “if you should experience a loss of cabin pleasure …” I thought, “That’s some service! An eggcorn? Mis-hearing? Or just accented English?
One more:
I’m a therapist, and just this morning a client reported to me that she had a baby and now has “post party depression.” Which is sort of brilliant, I think.
And this email is just too adorable not to add:
Acorn not eggcorn!
God bless you and good future. I just found your blog for the first time today!
Many, many readers have asked that core question since Wednesday’s post:
You’re just done? Everyone? Chris and Patrick and the gang aren’t holding down the domain? We could learn to love them; they seem like smart, dedicated folks. They lack your endearingly fallible, sometimes hysterical, always entertaining voice, but give them a shot, a trial run, something.
Another is more direct:
Please keep the Dish going without you. I’m in tears over the possibility of its ending. You’ve got the team, don’t you? PLEASE find a way!
Another:
You don’t owe me or other subscribers anything; you owe something to the creation that is the Dish. Keep it alive and figure out a sane way to remain involved. The community is ready to make this work.
Another notes:
Andrew, I remember you writing that you hoped that the Dish could continue and grow even if you moved on. I truly believe it could, can and will. Please let it try. It’s too important now. It’s not just about you and your blogging; it has grown bigger than that. I believe your “baby” can survive with you occasionally helping from afar.
How another reader puts it:
Your writing drew me here. Your team kept me here.
Another makes a compelling case:
Andrew, Chris, and the gang, are you ready for the next asshole who’s going to try to convince you to keep this thing going? Maybe the stress of running a company such as this, and blogging every day, is just too much. Maybe your staff has already landed new jobs in other places. Maybe The Dish has become a chain around Andrew’s leg. Maybe the blog has to completely die for Andrew to truly break free.
Screw that. Let’s talk about options for keeping The Dish alive and thriving.
There is a problem: Andrew needing to stop blogging (I understand and immensely respect this), and there are various solutions. Shutting down the blog completely is only one solution. In my selfish opinion, it isn’t the best solution. This blog is an institution. It can very easily live on without Andrew. That isn’t meant as any sort of insult. It is to Andrew’s credit that he has assembled a staff as talented and competent as he has.
Is Andrew the only one who needs to temporarily/permanently cease blogging, or have the majority of you all had enough? Is the grind too much for any normal person? If Andrew needs to stop, but the rest of you have any desire to continue on with this publication, why not make it work?
How about “Andrew Sullivan, Blogger Emeritus”? He can still break free completely. I mean completely. No day-to-day responsibilities.
Not even weekly or monthly. Keep the mind on writing essays or books or anything he wants. Chris, Patrick, or Jessie can step up and steer the ship. Or bring someone else in for that role. Andrew will still own the blog, even in silence, kind of like Forbes or Bloomberg or plenty of other media entities with a founder’s name. Letting this blog die is a colossal waste of influence and talent. And you’re throwing away money that you don’t have to. I really think you can have it all.
What you’ve all built is unprecedented and cannot be replicated. I would give almost anything to have the opportunity that you have. You think you’ve reached the end of the road, but you haven’t. There are still so many possibilities, from content to contributors to engaging readers in creative ways to innovative revenue streams to strides you can and should make on the technical/design side. Don’t go work at other places. Stay here and make this website even better.
With all that said, what are the odds of being convinced to change you mind based on an email from an almost total stranger? I’m placing in at 1/1000. I’ll take it.
But another asks a key question:
Are you, or your team, unsure about continued subscriptions in your absence?
Yes, we have wrestled with that uncertainty for a while. One encouraging sign from a reader:
Like so many others, I will miss your voice when it leaves the blog. But if this makes you happy, I’m happy for you. And I will look forward to whatever new form your voice takes from here.
But I was also looking forward to renewing my Dish subscription. I went in for $250 last year and I was thinking $1k this year. I’ll up that to $5k if it will help your team keep the business running, even if there’s no Andrew here anymore. You can count on me to support whatever the next thing is.
Another gobsmacking gesture from a reader:
TL;DR Version: I’m renewing. Have your staff keep The Dish going. I’ll miss you when you quit blogging, but I’m still renewing at the $200/yr level.
This reader’s investment is just as meaningful:
You didn’t need to remove the “subscribe” button. I’m long-term unemployed and keeping a low profile on my “voluntary” payments. But I was going to subscribe once I got a job. Shrug. I decided that hitting the “subscribe” button was the clearest way to vote emphatically for The Dish to continue. You’ve spent 15 years building a community here and I DON’T want to see it go. And I’ll give you a $20 vote of confidence.
So would this reader:
If all those things you said about us readers are true, then we can handle it. Turn the Dish over to us – we won’t let you down. I’ll even finally subscribe. (Sorry I’ve been an asshole.)
On the other hand, readers also have this sentiment:
If Andrew is not going to blog anymore, I do not want to continue subscribing to the Dish. How do I opt out of auto-renewal?
Another has already backed out:
I’ve enjoyed the blog. But given changes, I’m canceling. Thanks so much for the good readings.
And another:
Please retire the Dish. I love it, but it needs to be done – hear me out.
Consider the contrasting paths of two other creative geniuses with legacies in defining an unconventional medium: Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts, and Bill Watterson, creator of Calvin & Hobbes. Schulz allowed Peanuts to remain in syndicate after he retired, and the once-lovable icon of schlubbery, Charlie Brown, has degenerated into an overused catch phrase “Good Grief” (interestingly, in the original Peanuts Christmas Special, it’s Linus who says that line). On the other hand, Watterson took C&H with him into retirement, to the initial dismay of both fans and financially-interested parties. But time has vindicated his decision, with C&H still one of the most beloved icons in all of comicdom.
So please take the Dish with you into retirement.
Another sees both sides:
Succession is tricky. For example, Garrison Keillor has tried to leave Prairie Home Companion several times, but inevitably, the enterprise was too personality-driven to survive the transition. He’s still cranking out Saturday evening shows that are widely loved, but nothing fresh has happened at PHC for years. There’s such a thing as loving something to death, and I’m glad that Andrew is bright and brave enough to back away before that happens to you or to us.
In the early days when Andrew took breaks, readers snarked unmercifully at the stand-ins until he returned. That doesn’t seem to happen so often now; the quality and the accent doesn’t change as noticeably as it did on earlier Andrew holidays. And yet … it’s hard to imagine the Dish without a big personality at its center.
So, it will be a tough transition. But if there’s a critical mass of the staff that’s up for it, turn the fucking pay-meter back on and start a renewal drive. You can keep me on auto-renew. And Andrew, I look forward to seeing that new book! Whatever you decide.
I’m a little emotionally drained right now, I have to say. Last night, I could barely sleep. I’m going to write about the amazing people I’ve worked with here at the Dish in the coming week. And our readers are absolutely right. This blog is a collective project, and has been for a very long while. Jessie, Chris and Patrick were my first three interns and they are now our top three editors, seven years later. They created the Dish in its current formulation. So did Chas, a fireball of love and energy. The Dish would be very different without Matt’s attention to the life of the soul as well as the mind; and has been immeasurably leavened by Alice’s inspired poetry selection. Jonah is simply a rock-star of intellectual fearlessness.
These people have become my family; in fact, we are family to each other. To have lived and breathed and worked and created this elixir together has been one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. And the family goes back to all the former interns and staffers, to our beloved Zoe, Doug, Brian, Conor, Katie and Tracy and Zack and Gwynn and Maisie and Phoebe. And, of course, it also extends to Robert Cameron, who created this blog with me in 2000, designed it, worked tirelessly for it, and built the foundation on which all this has been constructed. If you think this blog is my creation, you could not be more wrong. This is their creation as well.
And, of course, it is also yours. We’ve all been deeply moved by the wave of protest that this community not simply be disbanded. There’s an intimacy to this conversation that makes this feel less like a business decision and more like a terrible family break-up. I understand all that. I’m deeply torn about it. It takes time to process.
So give us a little space to absorb this week. As of tomorrow, we’re going back to regular blogging. And let us know if you would be prepared to give the team a chance to figure this out or if you think it’s best to leave the Dish as a 15-year adventure that helped shape the Internet conversation.
This may be the denial part of grief. Or it could be something else.
See you in the morning.
(Top photo: Current staffers after an editorial meeting last month. Left to right, that’s Jonah (international editor), Matt (literary editor), some clapped-out old bear, Chris (editor and co-owner, in charge of the in-tray and Dishness), Patrick (editor and co-owner, in charge of Dish Prep and the budget), Jessie (editor, in charge of the weekend), and Chas (managing editor, aka Special Teams). In that photo were about to head to a bar to join poetry editor Alice, former staffers Tracy and Brian, and former interns Phoebe, Brendan, Doug, Gwynn, and Katie for a Dish holiday party. Zoe lives in Toronto now, so she couldn’t make it, and former staffer Conor and former interns Maisie and Zack live in DC. But here’s a composite of everyone, past and present:
First column: Matt Sitman, Tracy Walsh, Alice Quinn, a small cartoon of Jessie Roberts (long story), Maisie Allison, Brendan James, and Dusty the Dish mascot. Second column: Patrick Appel, Jonah Shepp, Chas Danner, Zack Beauchamp, Doug Allen, and Phoebe Maltz Bovy. Third column: Chris Bodenner, Katie Zavadski, Brian Senecal, Gwynn Guilford, Zoe Di Novi, and Conor Friedersdorf.
Patagonia, Arizona, 12.23 pm. The reader is arguably our best VFYW contributor ever, given all of her great submissions over the years, stretching back nearly to the beginning of the feature. We got her permission to print her full name below (given the Dish’s default anonymity policy):
Andrew, you have become a HUGE part of my day, my husband’s day (he is copied on this), and our marriage, as you have provided us much fodder for conversation as well as little digressions from me while on vacation, etc., to take VFYW pics. (Vince is very patient!) You have enhanced the classes we both teach at ASU through timely blog posts or less-timely ones we’ve saved for the future or dug back to find.
We have exposed our kids (now 26 – our daughter who was cat-called in DC and moved to Silver Spring, is now in Tucson getting her Master’s degree – and almost-24 – our son whose HuffPo blogs on being transgender you have linked to more than once, is still in San Francisco, living with his wonderful girlfriend and gainfully employed – yay!), who have also found you interesting, informative, and entertaining. I have shared many of your posts on Facebook and know I am personally responsible for getting you several more readers. :-) (It was lovely to click on the link in the pets’ deaths comment and see our sweet Zella looking back at me.)
You will be GREATLY missed, and if you ever can resume The Dish on a part-time basis (with the excellent Dish staff’s assistance, of course), we will follow you again, immediately. (Post only M-F AM, with the Window Contest on Saturday, and take off one week a month? No need for guest bloggers – Patrick, Chris, Zoe, et al. are FAB-U-LOUS!) But I am sure you have thought of every possible permutation …
I wish you God-speed and good health and much happiness, with Aaron and your parents and your family and your LIFE. If you ever want to visit Arizona, we have a guest house that you (and Aaron) would be welcome to stay in.
Kathleen Waldron
Phoenix, AZ
Her first view was posted on January 11, 2007:
Sedona, Arizona, 9 am. Kathleen adds:
My father-in-law died later that day after a 10-year battle with prostate cancer. (And he did battle it – went through every clinical trial he could find.) It was from a cabin we rented a few days previously. Nice and snowy! Zella and our other golden, Zoe, had a great time!
She sends a followup:
Good Lord, I’ve had so many – the Contest view from Mankato; the VFYW Book view from Bright Angel Lodge at the Grand Canyon (y’all accidentally mislabeled it as Williams) :-) At least two Patagonia views, the one last week from our kitchen window, one from the French doors in our living room, one from a classroom on the Downtown ASU campus (of the historic Rosson house); one from Tucson (very boring – a lamppost from a restaurant’s backdoor); one from Minturn, CO; the last VFYW of 2014, from snowy Prescott; a bunch of others!
But never the views from my son’s two AWFUL air-shaft windows! Of pipes and a scary Raggedy Ann type doll that used to give him the creeps and other detritus. I forgive you!
And a number of airplane views, too – the Washington Monument under scaffolding, the Rio Grande in Albuquerque, the Grand Canyon, the “lake somewhere in Nebraska” that some readers took deserved umbrage to!, the SF Bay, …
I have SO enjoyed this run, and I will continue to take window views, but they will be limited to my FB page, alas!
Here’s that scaffolding view that never got posted:
@sullydish Andrew leaving The Dish is pretty much like this all the way around: http://t.co/X8WxJLQl2Q
— Tony (@WheelsRI) January 28, 2015
area man quits blogging due to creeping misandry
— Jessica Roy (@JessicaKRoy) January 28, 2015
@sullydish quits blogging. Mohels everywhere breathe a sigh of relief. #AndrewSullivan
— iolantherosa (@iolantherosa) January 28, 2015
Just a reminder that the Dish has a Facebook page where you can leave any comment you like – the good, the bad, the ugly. Read all of them regarding “A Note To My Readers” here. And as always, you can tweet any praise or invective @sullydish.
Our long-time hirsute reader sends an update:
I kept going back to The Dish all day on Wednesday hoping there would be at least one more post after “A Note To My Readers“. It’s been ten years since I started visiting your blog on a daily or sometimes hourly basis, depending on what was happening in the world. I was honored to be a part of The Dish with my BOTD pics on not one but three occasions this year [here and here, including the year-end contest].
I will leave you with one last beard pic in your honor. You will be greatly missed.
Likewise. And every one of these BOTWs will be missed as well. Bonus beards after the jump:
I went on an impromptu pre-blizzard hike this weekend with a friend and perennial beard-of-the-week contender. It was a gorgeous day on top of the world in New Hampshire. I snapped this photo of him coming down.
Four years ago I worked up in the mountains with zero cell service. I’d arrive 3500 feet down the trail and spend my precious valley time catching up on the Dish. I missed some VFYWs that summer, but the Dish, and the three NPR stations and CBC that we got up high, kept me in touch with the world.
Another reader:
After reading your post I was in shock and flooded with emotions. Tonight I feel robbed. For nearly three months I’ve been growing this thing with the dream of one day making Beard of the Week! Tonight I just keep staring at my 7mm Kent beard comb wondering what now …
Update from a reader:
I always believed there would be so much more time to write to you… and most importantly to get critical feedback on my beard. Then, out of nowhere, you tell me you are leaving. Then, the first thing I see posted today is the “Beard of the Week, Ctd” with Bonus Beards!!???
I am lost, but not angry… just lost… yeah, lost and thankful and sad. And I have a beard of sadness, but it is not angry, I promise:
All the best to you and the crew. I have been a daily reader for ~10 years and will always be grateful to you and your team for …………. I typed and erased and typed and erased for 20 minutes before saying fuck it. I am grateful for too many reasons that cannot be described well with any kind of brevity.
More beardage:
I know how much you have been flooded with reactions to your departure. I won’t add much to that other than to say thank-you so much for keeping me from becoming a complete knee-jerk liberal gay man over the years. Your presence has deepened my thinking and provided nuance and flavor to my social and political opinions. I’ve deeply appreciated the continually engaging content of your blog and I will miss it terribly.
And just for the hell of it, here’s my Baby Boomer beard to represent one of your most-beloved generations:
Be well, Andrew, and best of luck.
The Dish 