I wasn’t even a year old yet when Jackie died (and I certainly wasn’t around in the first century when Phaedrus wrote his third scroll of fables) but this is how I like to think it all happened:

​
Upon his return to Rome—after eight years exile in his homeland (and three days after the execution of Sejanus)—Phaedrus looked back on his life; not just to the years in exile, but his years as slave to Augustus, his life in Rome as a freedman, and the childhood he never knew in Thrace.
 

Orphaned during the Thracian rebellion in 15 BC, Phaedrus was brought to Rome as a slave when he was nearly four-years old. For most of Phaedrus’ life, much remained out of his control, but he found a sense of control in writing fables—expressing in story what he could not say explicitly.
 
​
He sat down to write the first fable for his next scroll:
​

 
He no longer needed to see the scenes with his eyes. After all, from 1964-1966, he himself played the role of Uncle Fester—a role that redefined the later years of his life as an entertainer.
 

Hearing that last scene play out, Jackie was reminded of his first major role, as the title character in  the 1921 film The Kid. In muted elegance, the film told the story of an abandoned child who never knew his mother or father and was instead raised by a kind-hearted Tramp. The film propelled Jackie to stardom, earning him millions of dollars as the first Hollywood child star.
 

“And it was all because of the shimmy,” Jackie laughed to himself.

 
Indeed, it was as if by fate: on the night that his father signed him up to perform his little dance at the Orpheum, Charlie Chaplin happened to be in the audience, and immediately recognized Jackie as The Kid he was looking for.
​
UNCLE FESTER: I feel so good being my own boss, I think I'll take the rest of the day off.[4]
​

The Kid went on to play many more roles, including the title characters in Oliver Twist and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer—but during his life, Jackie was more than just an Entertainer—he also played the role of Humanitarian.
 

In the wake of the Arminian Genocide during World War I, thousands of orphans in Thrace were in desperate need of relief, and Jackie’s father—wanting to help his son recognize the common duty of all mankind to one another—embarked the pair on a nationwide tour, using Jackie’s fame to raise humanitarian funds.[5]

 
At the end of the American tour, Jackie boarded the SS Leviathan for a voyage across the Atlantic to Europe. In London and Paris, The Kid was met by enthusiastic cheers; and in Rome, he had a private audience with Pope Pius XI, who bestowed upon him his papal blessing.[6] By the time he reached Athens, Jackie was met by 7,000 orphans, and personally handed over $1 million worth of relief to the masses.[7]

 
UNCLE FESTER: Oh, I love adventure! As long as there's money involved.[8]
​

​But Jackie was more than a Humanitarian and Entertainer—he also played the role of Patriot.
 

When World War II broke out, Jackie enlisted in the Army, and after the attack on Pearl Harbor, he requested a transfer to the Army Air Forces where he volunteered for hazardous duty with the 1st Air Commando Group and flew under the command of General Orde Wingate transporting troops into the jungle behind Japanese lines in Burma. As a 2nd Lieutenant, Jackie went on to became a highly decorated war hero—earning the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal, the American Defense Service Medal, the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, the World War II Victory Medal, and the Gliderpilot Wing.[9]
 
​
UNCLE FESTER: All right! If that's what it takes, I'll get it! You'll see! I'll be a big success![10]
​

 
But perhaps the most poignant role of all was the one he played that afternoon in May of ‘35, as he was returning from a dove hunting trip with his father and some friends on the El Centro Highway:
 

Jackie sat in the rumble seat with Junior Durkin—who had played Huckleberry Finn opposite Jackie’s Tom Sawyer. As his father navigated a hairpin turn, an oncoming car swerved into their lane, forcing them off the road. Thinking fast, Jackie crouched down and grabbed hold of the footrest, just as the car jumped a ditch and careened down a 45-foot embankment.[11]
 

“I crouched down in the seat as the car turned end over end twice,” he recalled, as if it was still actively happening. “Then I straightened up and jumped out. I saw the automobile turn over two or three more times.” [12]
 

Of all the roles Jacke played throughout his lifetime, this role was perhaps the most challenging of all: sole survivor.[13]

​
UNCLE FESTER: Oh, Lurch, I'm in terrible shape.
 
LURCH: So I seeeee.[14]
​

 
Jackie and his father were close. Extremely close. And when he died, it was like a piece of him had died too—but what he didn’t know is how it would also lead to being blacklisted from Hollywood.


As a child, Jackie’s father took care of his income, but with his father’s death, the responsibility fell to his mother, who squandered the fortune. When he came of age and didn’t receive the millions of dollars he had earned as an actor, Jackie sued—but his step-father had powerful friends in the industry, and he convinced producers and directors not to work with him, effectively ending Jackie’s career.


UNCLE FESTER: Oh, not my suit of armor please, I need it to feel secure.


MORTICIA: Uncle Fester, the whole family has given until it hurts.

​
UNCLE FESTER: Well, I like to hurt as much as anybody, but don't ask me to give my armor up.[15]
​

Jackie sat up all night staring into the ancient fire, reliving his every experience. His time as Uncle Fester. Flying behind enemy lines in Burma. His wife (and many ex-wives). The exile from Hollywood. The death of his father. Their journey to Greece to help the orphans. His role as The Kid.
 

But then something strange began to happen—Jackie also remembered what he had long since forgotten: A broken rocking chair. His father’s cry of sorrows. Archeology in Assyria. A wailing saxophone. A violin from his fiancée (and playing that very violin as the ship went down). Raising a sunken ship (and selling another for scraps). Admiring the portrait of a song in Chicago. Debating Socrates in Athens. Writing fables in Rome. Being thrown off a cliff in Delphi. All of these and more flew through Jackie’s mind; not like a movie screen, but in real time—experiencing them as they happened and as if they were actively still happening.


“Everything I've wanted to do, I've done,” he smiled in wonder, fully immersed in the flow of the experience machine.[18]


The next morning, Dodie found her husband slumped over in the chair—still alive but with the appearance of death. She rushed him to the hospital. To the rest of the world, Jackie was unconscious; but perhaps a better way to understand it is that the rest of the world was unconscious—unaware of a parallel universe hidden from view, because they looked at it straight on. By contrast, Jackie, by staring into the ancient fire with a Magic Eye, was able to look beyond the foreground of his own heart, releasing his soul from the constraints of mere paintings to witness a reality outside of time and space.

​
He died two hours later, with his beloved by his side.

​Final Thoughts
We often hold a singular sense of self:
 

This is who I am.

 
This is what I do.

 
This is how I identify.

 
But we are more than a mere word; much more than a noun or verb or adjective.

 
And we are much more than the sum of our experiences—whether we remember, forget, or ruminate.

​ 
This vessel cannot contain the fullness of Being; but if we listen and look within (beyond the foreground of our own heart) we just may feel it.

Note:
This is an excerpt from my forthcoming book Magic Eye. keep an eye on the books page on this website, or on my author page Amazon. 
​

​Want More?
Jonas Cain, M.Ed. is a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination—uncovering joy through curiosity and wonder. Connect with Jonas to discover more: jonas@hashtagpositivity.com

​The Fiery Furnace
French Indochina colonists completed the Hanoi prison by 1901, using it to house, torture, and execute Vietnamese political prisoners.

 
The building was colloquially referred to as Hỏa Lò Prison, which translates to “stove,” “fiery furnace,” and “Hell’s hole.” A fitting name for a facility notorious for inhumanity, a cruelty even degrading to the colonial perpetrators—their lack of sympathy, compassion, and humanity revealing corrupt moral character.[4]
 
​
When behavior toward others reflects vice rather than virtue, life becomes un véritable enfer.[5]

Wonders in the Sun
By 1706, Thomas D’Ufrey wasn’t having much luck either. His new comic opera, Wonders in the Sun: or, the Kingdom of the Birds, was an ambitious and visually extravagant production, requiring elaborate scenery, a flock of bird costumes, and an over-sized cast of performers.
 

The plot centered on the misadventures of a philosopher and his servant who were carried away to the sun by a flock of geese, where they met a kingdom of anthropomorphized birds. The story drew parallels between humans and animals, offering a figurative discourse on virtue and vice and the moral line between humanity and inhumanity—whether “bird or man.”[7]
 

The opera premiered at the Queen’s Theatre on Saturday April 6—and though featuring a “great Variety of songs in all kinds, ſet to Muſick by ſeveral of the moſt Eminent Maſters of the Age,” by Wednesday, it was shut down. Despite the extravagant production value, Wonders in the Sun was a commercial flop, with critics arguing the story was difficult to follow and the music only loosely tied to the plot, making it hard to catch on.
​
​
For the public’s taste, perhaps Thomas D’Urfey’s work was a bit too avant-garde.[8]
​

 
Hanoi Hilton
French colonial forces abandoned Hanoi in 1954 after their decisive defeat at the Battle of Dien Bien Phu. After decades of dissent, Vietnam had finally achieved carte blanche.[9]
 

Later, during the Vietnam War, the “Fiery Furnace” experienced déjà vu[10] when the North Vietnamese offered the same hospitality to U.S. soldiers as taught by the French colonizers—including using rope bindings, iron beatings, and prolonged solitary confinement. Under these conditions, U.S. soldiers colloquially referred to the prison as “Hanoi Hilton,” a sarcastic reference to the continued maltreatment of fellow human beings—for the best-laid schemes of birds or men often reveal a shared inhumanity.[11]
 

Meanwhile, on April 6, 1967[12]—after falling overboard the USS Canberra in the Gulf of Tonkin—Navy Petty Officer Douglas Hegdahl checked in for a two-year stay at the notorious Hilton. To improve his standing in the camp’s society, unlike Thomas D'Urfey, Douglas didn’t try to play smart by changing his name to D’Ouglas Heg D’Ahl. Instead, he played dumb.
 

By pretending to be an innocent, clumsy, and dumb country pumpkin, his captors wrote Douglas off as harmless, referring to him as Người cực kỳ ngu ngốc: “The Incredibly Stupid One.” With their guard down, Douglas was allowed to quietly sabotage operations by secretly pouring dirt into enemy fuel tanks, disabling five trucks in the process.[13] He also went to work memorizing the names of 256 fellow prisoners, including their capture dates, methods of torture, and other personal information.
 

Despite being labeled incredibly stupid and innocent, Douglas was incredibly clever and cunning. To memorize all the details, the sailor sang the information to the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” retaining the data by singing them by heart on repeat, day in and day out.
 

Two years later, Douglas was released as a show of good-will, believing he was a prisoner of no real consequence. But what they really did was release a valuable intelligence asset.
 

Upon his release, Ross Perot sent Douglas to the Paris Peace Talks, revealing the names of his fellow prisoners and confronting the North Vietnamese with his first-hand experience of the inhumane conditions.
 
​
They learned the hard way that underestimating the value of others can be quite a faux pas.[14]
​

​Evolution of a Song
Meanwhile, despite Thomas D’Urfey’s flop of 1706, there was one piece of music from the opera that survived the ravages of time: “In the Fields in Frost and Snow.”
 

In the limited run, it was sung by 8-year-old Mary Willis, who was the perfect fit for her role as a character named Innocence. The song contained just three simple verses about tending a farm with cows, owls, and sheep, and mimicking their sounds.
 

The tune was so well-received that it appeared in many other operas over the years, and Thomas D'Urfey himself included an expanded version with additional verses in his 1719 book Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy.
 

Throughout the centuries, people have been singing and adapting variations of this seminal tune, including in a 1925 recording by the Sam Patterson Trio; in 1961 by Frank Sinatra; in 1967 by Elvis Presley; and in the same year by Sailor Douglas Hegdahl at the prestigious Hanoi Hilton.
 

What was once called “In the Fields in Frost in Snow” is today known as “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” Turns out, sometimes the simplest of things are la crème de la crème.[15]
​

 
Wonders of an Apostrophe 
If not for an apostrophe, perhaps Thomas D’Urefy would not have had wealthy high-society sponsors for his opera.
 

If not for the opera, perhaps he never would have written “In the Fields in Frost and Snow.”
 

If not for the song, perhaps we would never have “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”
 

And if not for the updated version, perhaps Douglas Hegdahl would never have memorized all those 256 names.[16]
 
​
All for the wonder of an apostrophe as the raison d'être.[17]

​
Reflection
1. Omission: “The worth of a thing is known by its want.”[18] Where are the apostrophies in your life? What “wants” do they reveal by their omissions?  


2. Possession: Underestimating the value of others reveals a possession of vice in one’s heart, while recognizing a shared humanity reveals virtue. What are the apostrophic possessions in your life? Are they revealing vice or virtue?

​
3. Appearances: A clever and cunning person may appear to be innocent, while someone who merely pretends to be clever may actually be a fool putting on airs.[19] How might you better discern the hearts of your fellow Earth travelers?

​Want More?
Jonas Cain, M.Ed. is a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination—uncovering joy through curiosity and wonder. Connect with Jonas to discover more: jonas@hashtagpositivity.com
​

Who Ya Gonna Call?
When the music supervisor for Ghostbusters hired Ray Parker Jr. to write the theme song, he was only given a few days’ notice. Despite listening to over 60 submissions from top composers of the day,[1] nothing quite fit what they were looking for—and the movie was being released in just a few short weeks.


There were only three requirements:

1. It had to have a saxophone line.
2. It had to be up-tempo.
3. It had to include the word Ghostbusters.

It was the last requirement that stumped Ray, because he couldn’t think of an elegant way to sing it.


“No wonder he got 60 songs and no winners,” Ray later recalled, “this is impossible!”


By four in the morning, after spending hours working through the score, Ray finished composing all the music, but still hadn’t written any lyrics. Not even a single word.


But then a pesticide commercial came on TV, and in his half-asleep state, Ray thought the exterminators—with their pesticide spray packs strapped to their backs—looked like the Ghostbusters.


And that’s when it all clicked. He didn’t have to sing the word Ghostbusters. Instead, he could sing, “Who ya gonna call?” and then the crowd would yell “Ghostbusters!”[2]


Turns out, good answers come from good questions.
​

In Other Words
To be fair, some people would argue that Ray Parker Jr. cheated when he discovered a solution to the Ghostbusters problem. Huey Lewis was so upset about it that he sued, claiming Ray plagiarized the melody from his song “I Want a New Drug.”[7] A year later, the case was settled out of court, but the lawsuit only held the melody in contention, not the lyrics.


When new words are set to an established melody, it’s called a contrafactum: “the substitution of one text for another without substantial change to the music.”[8] This has been common practice across history, but in our modern times lawyers like to get involved. (Weird Al gets a pass because parodies are considered “fair use”[9] as a form of social commentary and expression.[10])


There are many examples you might already know of, including:

• “Love Me Tender” to the tune of “Aura Lee”
• “My Country, ‘tis of Thee” to the tune of “God Save the King”
• “The ABC Song” to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”

In other words, it may be argued that Ray Parker Jr. had a little help on the melody from Huey Lewis, but the lyrics are all Ray (with a dash of pesticide).[11]
​

​​​​Read the full story ⬇︎

I
It was just supposed to be an exploratory mission. At least, that’s what they were told. But when they arrived in July of 1519, Hernán Cortés made the order to sink the ships.

 
“Cortés had two mutinies to quell,” explains underwater archaeologist Frederick Hanselmann. “Scuttling those ships was his way of sealing their fate and forcing their allegiance.”[1]

 
The conquistadors had no choice but to move forward and conquer the Aztec Empire. There would be no going back.

 
•••

 
Before it was torn down (and before it was set ablaze) the property had fallen into such disrepair that it became a shadow of what it once was. A house, but no longer a home. Though my father would never again live there, he kept his room padlocked shut; and over the years, what had been my childhood home became a physical manifestation of his sorrows. Entropy quickly took over—and eventually, an arsonist and a bulldozer. There would be no going back.

 
•••

 
By 1440 BC (give or take a couple hundred years), Moses led his people out of Egypt and into the arid freedom of the desert. After 400 years of oppression, they were finally free to wander as they pleased—and 40 years later, they were pleased to knock down the walls of Jericho with trumpets blaring, killing every man, woman, and child who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even the oxen, sheep, and donkeys were not spared.[2] There would be no going back.
​

II
​The next day, I too was a shadow, and my parents knew they made a mistake.

 
The night before, I took refuge in the rocking chair as my nearly 4-year-old eyes watched soda cans fly across the room (and my nearly 43-year-old memory felt the lingering burning heart of fear) as this protector became a predator.

 
Four decades later, I understood the rage wasn’t directed towards me per se, but at the time, there was no way to discern the difference. In the shelter of my mother’s arms, rocking back and forth with tears of sorrow; my father, lording over us with screams of rage. He had become Mr. Hyde, and all I wanted to do was hide.

 
By morning, I could barely speak. I had developed such a severe stutter that my parents had no choice but to seek professional help, but it was in vain. I could not and would not speak. With a mask of silence, I became an observer rather than a participant; a soul askew, reluctantly traveling through life in a human shell, just wanting to go home.

 
•••

 
With the fall of Jericho, a new kingdom was created—and if not for blind ambition, perhaps they could have kept it.

 
Hoshea was a trusted advisor to King Pekah, but during the Assyrian invasion, he saw an opportunity for power and promptly assassinated his boss. Gaining an alliance with King Tiglath-Pileser III, Hoshea was installed as the puppet king of Israel.[3]

 
But upon Tiglath-Pileser’s death, Hoshea saw another opportunity to gain even more power and stopped paying tribute—much to the chagrin of Shalmaneser V, the new king on the Assyrian block.

 
Israel was swiftly besieged, and by 722 BC, completely destroyed. Assyria enacted a resettlement policy,[4] deporting entire populations of the conquered people to various parts of the empire—but all they wanted was to go home.

III
​The last time I was there, loose dirt lay where the foundation had been. A few years earlier, an arsonist turned my childhood home into a charred shell, and my father’s estate eventually had it torn down. But today, the lot is unrecognizable. Earth has reclaimed the land, and is now a seamless patch of woods. Yet, somehow, the room is still padlocked shut.
 

•••

 
Meanwhile, Babylonia conquered Assyria and Judah stopped paying tribute—much to the dismay of King Nebuchadnezzar II, who responded by capturing Jerusalem and installing Zedekiah as a puppet king.[5]

 
But Zedekiah had other plans, forming an alliance with Egypt. This further dismayed Nebuchadnezzar, and by 587 BC, he conquered Jerusalem, destroyed Solomon's Temple, and exiled the people to Babylonia.[6]

 
Zedekiah did manage to briefly escape, but was eventually captured and brought to Babylonia in chains, where his children were executed before his very eyes (and before those very eyes were gauged out).[7]

 
Access to the kingdom was now padlocked shut.
​

IV
The last thing I said to him before he died was “I forgive you.” By that point, machines breathed for my father, so there’s no telling whether he could even hear me. I didn’t understand where those words had come from. What was I forgiving him for?
 

A decade later, Jade offered a hint.

 
“He remembered what he did, and the impact it had on you,” she explained. “It was a turning point in your life; a piece of you has been locked away ever since.”

 
When someone you love becomes someone you are afraid of, it is easier to deal with them if you hide your true self behind a mask—a layer of protection to ensure no one can harm you or ever truly love you.

 
I had spent so much time hiding behind a mask that I forgot I was even wearing one. Without remembering why, I forgave my father for askewing my soul. For are we not all human?

 
Anger is a natural response to violation, just as withdrawal is a natural response to fear, but are we not all simply doing our best with what we have been given—as we stumble along through life’s funny journey, barely knowing left from right nor right from wrong?[8]

 
I may still be a reluctant traveler on this long and winding road home, but at least now I understand why.

 
•••

 
He was more into archeology than monarchy, which is why King Nabonidus left his son in charge of Babylonia when he left the kingdom to excavate ancient temples in Assyria. Belshazzar was happy to oblige. After all, he was the one who led the coup in 556 BC that assassinated his father’s predecessor, King Labashi-Marduk.[9]

 
Meanwhile, their Persian neighbors began amassing imperial might, and Cyrus the Great was soon at Babylonia’s door. But by the time Belshazzar saw the writing on the wall, it was too late.[10] That very night, the Persians blasted through the city gates and killed the substitute king.

 
With Persia in charge, they initiated the Edict of Cyrus, providing repatriations for the people of Judah to safely return home.[11] Turns out, sometimes, you can go back.

 
As for King Nabonidus, he surrendered peacefully, and was graciously left to continue his archeology work—understanding who he is by shedding light into the shadows of the past. He looked at a history of destruction, and sought to understand why.
​

VII
Two fathers; two vastly different personalities. One locks us in; the other sets us free.

 
I don’t know what happened to my father that made him so angry. Maybe it was something his father had done?


I never met my grandfather, but I do recall a story my father once told me, of how his father never spoke of his experience in World War II. He had put on a mask of silence and could not and would not speak of it—except for one night, in the shelter of a rocking chair (with the help of a little alcohol) when a story spilled out of him:


He was serving as a belly gunner when a call came over the radio to begin firing as the plane made a left turn. He opened fire before he even knew what he was firing at: a surfaced submarine with a group of sailors relaxing topside. With a cry of sorrow, he recounted watching the scene in dissociated horror as the sailors dropped one by one. The experience askewed his soul, and he never spoke of it again.

 
To be fair, this was only one side of my father. He did the best he could with what he had been given; and when he knew better, he did better. My mother gave him an ultimatum: “You can have alcohol, or you can have your family. But you can’t have both.” To his credit, he never drank again—because apparently you only have to tell him once.

 
This tale of two fathers reveals what might be if our actions express love and understanding rather than anger and resentment. When my father didn’t know better, his heart was filled with rage; when he knew better, it was filled with compassion.

 
Oppressive forces have shaped human history—forces that bring suffering and misery to the world. Yet, forces have equally responded in kind to bring alignment for the good of others. The choice is yours to make, and time is yours to take:

 
We can harden our hearts like Cortés, or soften them like Father Hidalgo.
We can seek power like Belshazzar, or understanding like his father Nabonidus
We can become blind like Zedekiah, or compassionate like Cyrus the Great.

 
As for me, I sit in quiet reflection—rocking back and forth towards the long and winding road home.
​

Listen to your heart, you know what's right: Opossum Delight!

Project PoSSUM (Polar Suborbital Science in the Upper Mesosphere) was founded in 2012 to provide an outlet for upper atmospheric research, astronautics education, spacesuit evaluations, and aeronomy education.
 
​
But I propose an alternate theory of what Project PoSSUM is really all about. You see, it all started when the people in town got sick and tired of Cosmo the Possum playing around with all their trash:
 

PART 1
This is the story ‘bout little Cosmo;
The possum who made trash a show.
But the people in this land, they didn’t understand—
So they shunned Cosmo and made him leave the land.
 

Shine bright, starlight—their trash is your delight.
Don’t listen to them, they don’t know what’s right:
Opossum Delight!

​COSMIC ODE
Here’s to the ones who have heart;
Here’s to the ones with soul.
Here’s to the ones who shine bright,
For they light up our world
And they make us feel whole.


So here’s to the ones who have heart;
Here’s to the ones with soul.
Here’s to the ones who shine bright,
For they light up our world
And they make us feel whole—
So listen to your heart,
You know what’s right.
​

So, you see, in this revisionist history, Project Possum is really an initiative by the aerospace industry to clean up all that space trash left behind by astronauts, by sending possums into space.
 
​
Final Thoughts
This is of course a work of fiction, but it does point to the truth. How many people dismiss the talents, gifts, and offerings of others simply because they are different from their own? How many people in our world are rejected simply because they are different?
​

 
The Saw movie franchise makes me quite uncomfortable—partly because of the senseless violence, but also because it puts up a mirror to our modern world, reflecting back to us where we have gone astray. To live in this world, we can't go it alone: we have to do it together.

​ 
In other words: Everyone’s got a gift to shine their light…so listen to your heart, you know what’s right.


Want More?
Jonas Cain, M.Ed. is a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination—uncovering joy through curiosity and wonder. Connect with Jonas to discover more: jonas@hashtagpositivity.com
​

I spent weeks practicing the tenor sax solo for “Jump, Jive an’ Wail” and was looking forward to premiering it at the grand reopening of the Palmer Big Y Supermarket. Our high school jazz band had been asked to serenade the occasion, and I was thrilled when the big day finally arrived.

As I packed up the sax case to leave, Stephanie bounced up to me and said, "Guess what day it is?!"

“It’s Monday!” I exclaimed

“Yes!” She smiled, “but what else?!”

“April 12!”

“Yes! But what else!!?” She could barely contain her excitement.

“Hmmm…now I’m not so sure,” I replied.

“It’s my birthday! I’m 18!” Stephanie was beside herself with exuberant joy. If she was a color, she’d be a blend of vibrant pinks, and yellows, and a dash of purple.

“Happy birthday, Stephanie!” I exclaimed.

That may have been the day I first knew I loved her. Stephanie’s easy joy for life was contagious and admirable. Her soul was jumping and jiving, and I was about to do the same.
​
That’s where I was for Stephanie’s 18th birthday. Today, 18 years after her death, there’s a bit less jumping and jiving, though my heart and soul still wail. To be sure, the pain of losing Stephanie is long gone:  long replaced with a quiet resignation that life will never be what I think it is, and never exactly what I want it to be—yet always exactly as it should be.

Thank goodness I learned early on how to jump, jive, an' wail.

​​​​Read the full story ⬇︎

Finishing the final set of the night, he shoved the violin into a leather valise. The bow was too long, preventing it from closing shut, so he abandoned it on the deck and threw the bag over his shoulders. He could always get a new bow back home—if he survives the night.


Whatever his fate, the violin was going with him. It was an engagement gift from his sweetheart, Maria Robinson, who had it engraved with these tender words: 
​

With their engagement, he was hesitant to take the gig at all, but Wallace Hartley figured working as the bandmaster on the maiden voyage of the Titanic would be good for his resume and create opportunities for future lucrative contracts.


Within minutes of striking the iceberg, the 33-year-old bandmaster assembled the band for their final set of the night, serenading the departing lifeboats and the passengers left behind. 
​

Ten days later, the crew of the CS Mackay-Bennett found Wallace floating in the Atlantic, with the valise strung over his shoulders providing enough buoyancy to keep his body afloat. The violin, however, never made it into the log books, and for nearly a century it was assumed lost at sea.

​Beyond a Reasonable Doubt​

​“When we first saw the violin we had to keep a lid on our excitement because it was almost as if it was too good to be true,” said Andrew Aldridge, of Henry Aldridge and Son, the auction house entrusted with the violin. “It was either authentic or an extremely elaborate hoax.”

​
Conducting seven years of research, the team stitched together the violin’s provenance, including a telegram dated July 19, 1912 from Maria Robinson to the Provincial Secretary of Nova Scotia:
​

Without ever knowing why, Maria understood that far across the distance and spaces, the gift to her beloved would ensure their love would go on—just as Wallace knew that somewhere beyond the sea (beyond a doubt), Maria stood waiting; their hearts soon leading home.

Happy they’ll be, beyond the sea—and never again go sailing.
​

​Reflection
How are you using your unique gifts to help your fellow travelers?


Want More?
Jonas Cain, M.Ed. is a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination—helping people discover joy through curiosity and wonder. Connect with Jonas to discover more.


References
[1] Salkeld, L. (2013, March 14). “Found, violin that was played as Titanic sunk.” The Daily Mail. www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2293232/amp/Water-stained-violin-proven-played-brave-bandmaster-Titanic-sank 
[2] Adams, S. F. (1841). “Nearer, My God, to Thee.”
[3] Horner, J. (1997). “My Heart Will Go On.”
[4] Lawrence, J. (1947). “Beyond the Sea.”

Even if you’ve never heard of Veronica Lake, you know her “peek-a-boo” hairstyle. It was used as the model for Jessica Rabbit in the 1988 film Who Framed Roger Rabbit.[1]


During the 1940s, Veronica was a major movie star, and her hairstyle was emulated by women across the country. But with the advent of World War 2, droves of women joined the workforce in factories where long hair was a safety risk. To prevent hair from getting caught in machinery, the United States government asked Veronica to change her hairstyle, in the hopes her influence would help the war effort.[2]


The movie star responded with a new look for her role in the 1944 film The Hour Before the Dawn, with a hairstyle that came to be known as “Victory Rolls.” The film was a flop, and Veronica’s career began a decline that never really recovered.

​
But at least we won the war.
​

When the audience found out Luis Conriquez wouldn’t be singing any narcocorridos​ at the concert, they started a riot.

 
The State of Mexico decided that music glorifying drug trafficking incited too much violence and made its performance a crime with a penalty of up to six months in prison.[3] When the singer complied with the ban, the audience quickly became a mob, throwing drinks, food, and chairs (and anything else they could grab), prompting the band to retreat as the mob stormed the stage.[4]

 
“It feels bad not being able to sing what people want to hear,” the singer later commented. Time will tell if his career ever recovers the change in style.
​

By 1893, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wanted to focus on new writing projects, so in his story “The Final Problem,” he killed Sherlock Holmes at the hands of the detective’s nemesis, Professor Moriarty.

 
When the story was published in The Strand Magazine, the backlash from readers was both immediate and intense. Protests sprang up across London, letters to the magazine demanded the return of Sherlock Holmes, and over 20,000 subscriptions were canceled, driving the magazine into financial ruin.[5]

 
For nearly a decade, the author resisted, but finally relented in 1901 with The Hound of the Baskervilles, and in 1903 with “The Adventure of the Empty House,” explaining that the detective had faked his death in the previous story. With the return of Sherlock Holmes, the public was appeased and the magazine began to revive.

 
Turns out, you just have to give the audience what they want.
​

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​Reflection
Perhaps James Cordon’s Drop the Mic was inspired by Arctic song duels—where Inuit fight out their differences with music rather than violence.

 
Opponents compose songs that mock one another with both humor and harmony, and then perform them in front of the community. Think of it as a cross between Don McLean and Don Rickles. The reaction from the Court of Public Opinion decides the winner, helping maintain harmony without physical aggression.[6]

 
Imagine how different the world might look today if instead of going to war, Roosevelt and Churchill had a song duel with Hitler and Mussolini. Who knows? Perhaps Veronica Lake’s career wouldn’t have played peek-a-boo.
​

Final Thoughts
After being booed off stage at Madison Square Garden, Rick Nelson learned his lesson well. “You can't please everyone,” he reflected,” so you've got to please yourself.”[7]
 
And he’s all right now.
​

Want More?
Jonas Cain, M.Ed. is a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination—discovering joy through curiosity and wonder. Connect with Jonas to discover more: jonas@hashtagpositivity.com

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​​Read the full story ⬇︎

To this day, I don’t recall exactly what happened, but I do remember how her words made me feel.
 
Belittled.
 
After making a mistake, I apologized saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was supposed to be done another way.”
 
“If you didn’t know, why didn’t you ask?!” she snapped.
 
“That’s just it,” I replied, “I didn’t know there was anything to ask.”
 
“But if you didn’t know, why didn’t you ask?!” she snapped again. She was caught in a frustration loop and couldn’t see the logic of what I was trying to communicate.
 
Sometimes, there are things you don’t know you don’t know.
 
•••
 
Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties[1] because it comes from a conflict of ideas,[2] and it is precisely for this reason that I enrolled in graduate school in 2019.
 
It’s said that a watch will make you certain of the time; but with two, you will never be quite sure.[3] On the one hand, a single source of information offers a sense of certainty—though a false sense. And on the other, multiple sources can provide multiple perspectives—but with a woeful lack of certainty.
 
I had just purchased the rights to Hashtag Positivity and made the bold decision to rebrand it from an apparel company to an education company. Rather than merely wearing positivity, I was interested in the how of positivity (the necessary mindset, knowledge, and skills) and how best to communicate it to others. After all, mere knowledge is not enough for this mission without also being able to share that knowledge in a way that promotes comprehension and application.
 
There were things I didn’t know I didn’t know, but if I had learned anything, I knew there were questions that were not even on my radar yet. Embracing uncertainty by studying learning systems design provided a foundation of knowledge and skills to move one step closer toward achieving the aim of spreading positivity with the community at large.
 
•••
 
Anything worthwhile will by definition take a while, and this calls for the courage to let go of certainties and embrace doubt with conflicting ideas. As Francis Bacon reminds us: “If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end with doubts, but if he will be content to begin with doubts he shall end in certainties.”[4]

Reflection
How certain are you? Have you left any room for doubt?
 
Want More?
As a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination, I help people experience abiding joy by remembering who they are. Here's how we can work together:

• Buy a book.
• Enroll in an online course.
• Attend a workshop.
• Book me to speak with your group.​

​​Read the full story ⬇︎

Off the coast of California, autonomous underwater drones recently discovered the nearly intact remains of the USS Stewart 3,500 feet below the surface. This is quite the turn of events—considering it first sank off the coast of East Java, over 13,000 miles away![1]
 
After the Battle of Badung Strait, the ship was deemed damaged beyond repair, and the US Navy decided to scuttle the vessel rather than allow it to fall into enemy hands—which is why they were so surprised to discover it a year later as part of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s Fleet.
 
Turns out, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
 
The ship was welcomed back into the US fleet during the occupation of Japan, but the reunion was short lived when the Navy decided to use it as target practice—finding its end once again, this time off the coast of California.
 
Reflection
Though receiving numerous awards and honors during its 26 years of service, it seems the USS Stewart was never really appreciated by its original stewards, which begs the question:
 
Who’s the real villain here? The people who abandoned the ship at the first sign of vulnerability? Or the ones who recognized its worth and raised it from the depths of destruction?
 
And what about you? Do the people around you recognize your worth and help raise you up?
 
Want More?
As a storyteller, magician, musician, and facilitator of fascination, I help people experience abiding joy by remembering who they are. Here's how we can work together:

• Buy a book.
• Enroll in an online course.
• Attend a workshop.
• Book me to speak with your group.​