Dear Ask Boz

What is Charlie Brown’s sister named?

You probably are thinking of Sally, Charlie’s well-known sister. But what you don’t know is that there is another: Charlene Brown.

Charlie Brown’s father tried to hide it, but his son was a terrible disappointment to him. He never knew a young person could be so anxious and so bad a everything. It was clear right away that Charlie was destined to be a failure. And his father felt helpless to do anything about it.  

Until he came upon the obvious solution: start a second family. Mr. Brown created the identity “Johnny Teal”, and found a woman on the internet. Soon they were married, and his secret wife gave birth to a girl. They named her Charlene, and they raised her to be the exact opposite of the half-brother she would never know.  

Charlene excelled at everything Charlie failed at. She became a feared hitter in baseball, and a fearsome pitcher. She was dominant in her relationship with her peers, and they respected her to the utmost, while craving her attention and approval. And as far as successfully kicking a football, well, we’ll let this excerpt from Charlene Brown, the first nine years tell that story: 

Charlene takes two steps back and one to her left. Her friend Lou von Furr calmly places the football on the ground, puts his finger on the puckered tip of the ball, and turns the laces away. Her eyes raise to the target, then drop to the ball. Charlene Brown stutter steps, planting her left foot as her right leg swings back. Her foot punches through the ball, and her legs scissor up as air explodes from her mouth. She lands, slightly bent, so she is the same height as Lou coming up from his crouch. They end up with arms around each other as, perfect again, the ball flips high through the uprights. 

From the sideline, Charlene’s father, pride shining on his face, can’t contain his excitement, exclaiming, “Whhoomp wooowhomp waaaaaahh wont want woooooooh!” 

All of Mr. Brown’s hopes for the future are focused on his secret daughter. He knows that Charlie will live at home forever, claiming to be a competitive esports gamer while leaching off his parents. Charlene promises the possibility of success and riches, or at least not endless disappointment.  

Avoid the Beginning of Evil

When I decided to launch this website, Henry David Thoreau had a talk with me. He reminded me of a time he had three pieces of limestone on his desk, and became “terrified” when he realized he had to dust them every day, so he “threw them out the window in disgust.” 

His punch line was: “It’s best to avoid the beginning of evil.” 

Thoreau is showing his sense of humor with some hyperbole, but his point is strong: consider the new objects and projects that you take on carefully, and think about the amount of work involved in maintaining them. 

Metaphorically, Thoreau’s limestone represents any task or duty that demands our attention and work. As I say in Tao of Thoreau, when we start something new, we need to be “ready to bring the energy and focus required.” I thought about this a lot as I designed bozbozeman.com. 

I’m launching this site at the end of the school year, which can be a stressful and exhausting time. For this blog to succeed, I need to produce and post content so people who like it will keep coming back. I need to find creative ways to promote it so that it grows. This is a lot of work; moreover, it is work that I will have to sustain for a long time for this site to become successful.  

Then I realized something, so I said this back to Thoreau: “The limestone was decoration. You didn’t want to waste your time on something you didn’t have to. Writing is something I want to do. And with a website, other people can read my work, which has always been my goal.” 

I didn’t see Lao-Tzu there until he said, “That’s right.” I looked at him, and he spoke in that calm voice, echoing with centuries of wisdom: “Do you work and step back. The only path to serenity.”

Thoreau didn’t have anything to say to that, so I guess I have avoided the beginning of evil. 

Self of Steam

A student once wrote that she had 

“Low self-of-steam.” 

Even as I circled it in red 

and wrote the right words 

I felt like correcting it was wrong, 

and a vision emerged. 

I see this self-of-steam 

as a different version of her 

and her words not a mistake 

but a revelation. 

She is describing herself, amorphous, 

a vapor caught between window panes. 

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Doug’s Teeth

When I was 6 I had this friend Doug. One winter day while we were sledding, one of his teeth fell out. It was the first time this happened to him, and he started bawling. He had the tooth in his hand and his mouth was bleeding. His mom came running down the hill, fell once and slid, got back up, crouched down in front of him and held him. 

The next day, before we could make fun of him, he flashed some green at us. A dollar! We were all impressed. No one got nearly that much from the Tooth Fairy. I only got 10 cents. This was the 1970’s, so a dollar was a lot of money for a kid. My mom was there, and she said “Wow! The best of both worlds. You get a dollar and the tooth will grow back.” Doug’s eyes got wide. He didn’t know teeth grew back. 

The next day Doug reported that he lost another tooth. And it kept happening. I started watching him at school. His fingers were always in his mouth. He was wiggling his teeth to get them loose.  

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Black Helicopters

What are all these black helicopters doing here? 

Ah, the mysterious black helicopter. I’m sure you are expecting me say that it’s the government spying on you. Do they want to know what you watch on Netflix, or why you chose Olive Garden over Chilis? 

No! In fact, black helicopters have nothing to do with the government. They are actually the vehicle of choice for the modern angel. They no longer fly around with white robes and wings. Angels are surprisingly modern and fashion conscious, and robes and wings are sooooo Renaissance. Black helicopters are totally edgy and cool, and they give your average angel the kind of powers once reserved for Archangels like Gabriel, Michael, and Gandalf. These powers include, but aren’t limited to: 

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Neandertal-American

My whole life, I’ve wanted an ethnic identity that goes along with being American. My friends are Italian-American, Mexican-American, African-American, Irish-American. But no glorious hyphen for me. I’m just American.   

Don’t get me wrong. Being American is great. But what’s more American than having something great and wanting even more? 

I was always jealous that my friends had an additional culture and all that goes with it. Delicious food, traditional music, unique and colorful clothes. Ancient traditions that are still alive today. Generational connections that span years and lifetimes. Challenging and dangerous liquors like Grappa, Rakija, Ouzo and Tequila. 

Though this always bothered me, I gave up hoping it would change. That is until I took a DNA test. When it came back, I scanned through all the different places my mongrel DNA is from. Nothing I could claim as my own. But then, there it was: I am 3% Neandertal! 

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