“Why isn’t anyone commenting on my blog?!”
I hear this question at least once a day now that Sloan has his own blog. He’s written all of two posts in the two weeks since he started it, and he’s learning how to manage his expectations.
Welcome to blogging, son.
Yesterday after breakfast, he asked if he could check his blog. In general, our rule is no technology in the mornings before school, but I caved because we were out of coffee, and I can’t be expected to uphold any semblance of order in my home without some sort of stimulant.
He sat in front of the computer and stared at the screen, shaking his head in clear consternation. I peeked over his shoulder and fought off a grin. He had 15 comments on the last post, but most of them were back and forth between him and a friend.
“You have to put more content up on the blog,” I informed him. “After about 24 hours, people generally quit coming to your blog. It’s not supposed to be a chat board. You just need to put up a new post and bring people to it.”
That’s when Lee stepped in.
“Son,” he said, his voice getting a little deeper as though he had a great nugget of knowledge to offer. “I’m going to give you a bit of wisdom from the great philosopher of the ’80’s and ’90’s. He was a man who gave the world much. His name…was Michael Jackson.”
This is when I stopped making school lunches and turned, eyebrow raised, to listen where this conversation was going.
Lee leaned down, putting his elbows on the table so he was eye level with Sloan.
“Mr. Jackson said something important. He said, ‘I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to make a change.’ If you want to make a change in this world, start with yourself,” he put his hand over Sloan’s heart.
“If you want to make the world a better place, just look at yourself and make the change, son,” he said. His voice emphatic. Meanwhile I’m about to wet my pants laughing.
“Don’t worry about how people respond to your blog posts, or what they say. You just make the change and tell the stories. Let that be what your blog is about.”
Sloan nodded, his face laced with both awe and amusement. He was trying to discern whether or not his dad was serious. For the record, Lee was (mostly) serious.
Lee stood up and turned to me, his eyes wide. “Man, that was good stuff right there. Did you see what I did? I was on fire. That was awesome! Wiggety Wack!”
This is my life. My crazy, hilarious, at times baffling, life.
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THAT is priceless! Never ever would have thought to look to Michael Jackson for words of wisdom! 🙂
I never would have, either. Lee has a talent for imparting obscure wisdom. 🙂
I think Lee’s advice was “right-on.” And, I would add that since learning is a joyous and fulfilling experience, if Sloan approaches his writing as an exercise in “writing for learning,” then he will have a joyous and fulfilling experience each time he blogs.
Yes! That’s what I keep telling him. Don’t write for the approval and recognition for others. Just share the overflow of your heart.
That’s a hard enough idea for me to grasp as a 36 year old, so imagine what that must sound like to an 11 year old. I’m praying he can grasp that wisdom early! 🙂
Wait. What? You’re 36?!
Yes, dad. Remember? You had me when you were 15…
You are so lucky with your husband, my friend! Sometimes simple explanations of difficult things are the most effective. They really touch the heart. We can forget the
… the words but we will never forget the feelings at the time these words were pronounced. Bravo to Lee!!!
Indeed, Sveta! Love those creative, funny dads! 🙂