​Finding the best popcorn is a quest. It began for me approximately 12 years ago.
 
At the time, my wife and I had two kids playing basketball at the high school/middle school level. During the games, of course you have to sample the concession stand to support the school.
 
Not wanting candy during many of these games (if no M&M’s were available), the question became: Which of this crap is the least bad for me? “Popcorn” became the answer.
 
I’d get a bag, sample the salt level, the freshness, whether it was burnt or under-cooked, if it was butter-flavored and how many kernels were left at the bottom of the paper/cardboard container when you polished it off. You don’t think of all those variables when you grab a bag of popcorn, but a lot really does go into determining the top popcorn in the area.
 
It took a couple of years before I realized what I was doing – ranking the popcorn by school. It just kinda evolved. We’d go to a new opponent’s gym, and there I’d head to the concession stand. At some point I begin telling those running the concessions that their popcorn was really good (being the nice guy that I am, if their popcorn was horrible, I kept my mouth shut), I would let them know it, and why.
 
The “why” is the big deal. It became apparent how sampling each batch had its pluses and minuses, and I took my time crunching away, rolling the pieces around my mouth, licking my lips, tasting residuals on my fingers. From there, it turned into a ranking system.
 
During that time when our two kids were still playing basketball, Irving Nimitz High School (in north Texas) received my highest ranking. I’d let the staff know that they had the freshest, tastiest batches, and they always beamed in response, proud of the designation.
 
What brought their batches to the top of the rankings was a fluffiness that maintained just the right texture, mixed with just the right amount of salt and butter flavor. They were consistent.
 
The question, as this quest continued, was, “What made it so good?” The answer was not complicated. It wasn’t how long it was cooked. It wasn’t the kernels. It wasn’t determined by who was doing the popping that day.

First, and primarily, it came down to the popping machine. If they had a reliable, good piece of equipment, the popcorn came out great. One of the first learning lessons was that microwaved popcorn was inconsistent – often over-cooked and crusty – and not to be ordered. Popcorn made by those old-fashioned machines – like in the movie theaters – made their batch a good bet.
 
My quest continues today. I began refereeing  basketball again four years ago after an 18-year hiatus, and naturally, sampling popcorn was added to my visits as I drive from high school to high school. I ask the athletic director for a bag when they inquire before a game if there is anything our crew would like to eat or drink when we finish on the court.

Little do they know my ulterior motive. Munching away on the drive home is wonderful. But as each piece enters my mouth, I’m judging, ranking, filtering, savoring where they score on the scale. The old-​time popping machine is still the key.

​Taking notes and writing up an account of an event gives you a radically different perspective than if you took a video of people arguing over an issue. There is something dispassionate about writing down what someone says, listening to tone and the entire structure of thoughts and sentences, and committing it to paper. In contrast with replaying something through sound and sight (video), handwritten accounts remove much of the tension and prepare the reader to engage in a more thorough reporting of what went on.
 
I found myself pondering this recently after a meeting where I serve as secretary in a Board of Directors position. I’m the designated notetaker, having to capture as much as possible that people say, and putting it in an accurate context. Textbook journalism, except I’m reporting to the board rather that writing it up for a newspaper, magazine or online.
 
The meeting had differences of opinion. No question that some people were upset about the issue under discussion. Their tone of voices and how they addressed others reflected this – on both sides. Voices were raised. Some people clearly chose not to listen to the other side. It was fascinating.
 
At one point, one of the board members compared the differences of opinion to the current climate in the United States – “we can’t seem to come together.” I happened to chair this meeting as well as being the notetaker, and I disagreed with that individual. My perspective was that we had the meeting to hear from all sides and we wanted everyone to air their perspectives.

Without hearing what people felt and believed, how could we make the best decision? There was no pre-ordained decision (as some implied during the open discussion), and there was validity to everything brought to the table. Having differences isn’t bad. In fact, I would argue it’s important to hear opposing views to strengthen any final decision.
 
What became even more apparent as I perused my notes later and began writing them up, is that the process of committing to paper allows you to step back and better analyze positions, ideas, thoughts, arguments, facts, direction, insights, perspectives. You understand where people are coming from.
 
At the same time, you remove yourself from the high-charged emotions. You take what is said and write it down. “There it is. That’s what was said. Makes sense.” Then you take what the next person says and do the same thing, and you can see validity to those points. And, so on.
 
As you dig deeper into the session, you broaden your view, and I would argue you are put in an advantageous position to make a better decision. Emotions – anger, resentment, sadness, joy – all are tremendously important and play huge parts in how humans look at things and choose what they believe and where they stand.
 
Putting it down on paper allows you to see (and go back and reread and step back a bit) with greater specificity (and dispassionately) the strengths of arguments, how much support there is for one position or another and whether there is a consensus or majority to move forward.
 
Taking notes helps you learn. You pick up nuances. You better understand explanations. You get a fuller sense of a discussion. We’d all be better served sitting down and writing notes when hearing a discussion or argument, then going back and writing 

​ 
I’m not a gadget guy. I don’t need the shiny new thing. I don’t want to overcomplicate.
 
Those thoughts occurred to me as repeated ads for new cars begin populating our TV screens for Christmas. They shine. They come loaded with every piece of technology you could ever want. The car companies presume we want them.
 
When you’re not a gadget person, and you’re considering a new vehicle at some point down the road, you’re struck by all this stuff you don’t want or need. My current car is closing in on 180,000 miles. I remember the days where if you got to 70,000 miles on the odometer, you expected the engine to explode and the transmission to fall out. Now, it seems like we can get 200,000 miles and beyond on a car. My mind spins around what I’d want, and that decision will occur sometime in the coming year or so.
 
Which brings me back to all the garbage I don’t want. There’s no need for any “hands-off” technology. Let me keep the hands on the wheel where they belong.
 
Connectivity to the world is not necessary either. Riding in a car is a good time to get away from that as far as I’m concerned, so I don’t need 17 buttons to configure something so I can access a link that causes a distraction.
 
And, perhaps a bit weirdly, a complex wonderful sound system is not high on my list, either. Music is good, sure. Let this old man pop in a few CDs. That’s the old fangled way. I don’t need to set up personalized soundtracks contacted to my phone.
 
What I do want is high mileage. A hybrid that averages over 51 MPG would be quite nice. Can you car companies make that, please?
 
Leg room, yes. I’m taller than the male average. Not by much, but enough where my legs want to extend and many vehicles don’t allow full extension. I’d like that, please.
 
A comfy seat is also highly desirable. For some reason, when you drive longer distances as an older person, your butt muscles don’t like it. A well-cushioned chair alleviates that. Bring it.
 
Living up north, I want either all-wheel drive or at least a vehicle known for handling slick, icy, snowy roads with safety. Nothing worse that the feeling of your car losing control, sending those little sparky feelings throughout your body as you slide towards a speed rail anticipating a crash.
 
The car should need minimal repairs if you standardize maintenance. Do the regular checkups, and you shouldn’t have to bring it in except in the longer run when tires or brakes wear out. The other parts of the machine should last many years.
 
Finally, yes, give me room for golf clubs and dogs. Our two dogs need to easily fit in the back seat so they can hang their tongues our their respective windows and stink up the back with their smelly fur. And the trunk needs to easily handle golf clubs and a cart. Throw them in. Slam it shut. Off you go.
 
Strip it down. Give me the basics. Forget about all those gadgets the car companies think EVERYONE seems to want. I’m waiting for the BASIC version. It seems to get tougher and tougher to find.

​Don’t underestimate the ability of people to be confused. “Confused” can mean their inability to understand what you are explaining (which could also be on your shoulders by not explaining something clearly) or their inability to say what they mean. These types of confusions make it harder for people to connect.
 
Case in point: recently my wife and I were watching Wheel of Fortune on TV. During the course of the show, one of the individuals went on about some subject, making no sense. What was the point? We sure couldn’t tell. What was the person attempting to explain? Nothing we could figure out.
 
We looked at each other shrugged our shoulders, and said something to the effect, “This person sure is confused.” It make you wonder about the thought process when you encounter an individual like that.
 
Is there a cognitive breakdown inside the brain? Are they unable to process information in such a way that it can delivered to others in such a way that you actually communicate and have some common ground?
 
I’m not sure how prevalent confused people are in general, but I have a distinct sense there are more people like this today than there were 30-40 years ago. Or, maybe they are more visible through all the information outlets available to us, so it only seems like more people are confused.
 
A big problem when you encounter a confused person is you may think you’re on the same ground when you’re actually on a different planet. They’re talking about how some weird rays from outer space are targeting people in California cities, when you had raised a question about skin cancer from the sun. How did the discussion flip?
 
You don’t know. You’re not inside that other person’s head, so you have no idea whether they were listening or couldn’t process your question. They suddenly went down another track that made no sense. This, then, gets you to question yourself: “Did I screw up that question? Am I not making sense? Am I the confused person here?”
 
It’s all very odd. If you interact to any degree of regularity in face-to-face situations, you can relate to the confused individual. That’s because you walk away from those discussions wondering what happened and why you didn’t connect. 
 
Maybe this is one reason people don’t interact face-to-face as much these days. They don’t want to be any more confused than they already are. Or, they want to avoid the continually confused human.
 
It’s important for all of us to make sense of the world. We all develop a way of seeing things, our own personal understanding. When the confused person steps in our sphere and talks nonsensically, it twists you out of your comfort zone. You don’t know what to make of it all.

You get confused. The other person was confused. Now we’re all confused. Solution: don’t interact with others. Or, at least don’t interact with people you find confusing.

If all that makes sense, but you’re not confused now, go back and reread this column. That should confuse you. If you choose not