Wait. You don’t know Fat Bear Holly?
Do you know about Chunk? About Grazer? About Walker? What about Otis? Or Divot?
Do you know them by their numbers? Bears 164, 335, and 856 made a good showing this year and of course the 2022 champion was Bear 747!
As far as your friendly bookseller is concerned, Fat Bear Week is the nation’s top sporting event. It’s second only to the Puppy Bowl, and a close competitor with Story Club CLE and Lake Erie Ink’s Giant Bananagrams.
Fat Bear Week, hosted on the Brooks River at Katmai National Park, Alaska, is a can’t-miss opportunity to celebrate and emulate the brown bears as they hibernate!
Fat Bear Week has the Bear Cams. The Bracket. Live Chats with the rangers. And of course the cleverest commentation in the country as the naturalists narrate each bear’s strategy, personality and competitive record.
Of course, the waters might be a bit rough, if you’re a fish friend or a salmon stan. But that’s nature for you! And don’t worry. Those salmon had a good run.
At any rate, Fat Bear Holly, crowned champion in 2019, is a fan favorite. The rangers explained her success: Holly was a single bear with no cubs, and she spent the season fishing, napping, and eating all her salmon herself.
Holly stood in the stream swiping salmon all summer long; she didn’t share and she didn’t get sidetracked. She was energy-efficient, with no cubs to chase, and although she did have brief liaisons with a couple of male bears she kept it casual. She only stopped eating long enough to dig a belly hole big enough to nap in, and she lumbered off for her long winter, the Queen of Katmai Gorge, fat and fully insulated.
Your friendly bookseller, thinking of Fat Bear Holly, asked around. I asked my friends, “Who is your top priority? Where do you put your resources?”
One group of my friends said: it’s my kids. Then my spouse. Then work, then extended family, then community, then self. Sometimes they put community before family or family before work. Mostly they didn’t mention themselves at all, until I asked, and then they tacked it on at the end. An afterthought.
My other friends said: it’s myself. I’m my own top priority. Then my work, then my kids, then my spouse. Sometimes they switched work and kids, or kids and spouse. That group almost never mentioned extended family or community obligations unless I asked, and they always put themselves at the top of the list.
These two groups of friends were roughly divided by gender. Regardless of age or stage of life, regardless of career, regardless of their earning power or creative pursuits. It was mostly women who gave the first answer, and mostly men who gave the second answer.
The most interesting part of these conversations, to me, was that last paragraph, and the way people reacted when I shared it.
I said to men, “You put yourself first? Ahead of your kids? You don’t put the kids first?” and they all* looked at me like I had lost the thread completely.
(*obviously not all, don’t @me, this is my actual life and not a controlled study, it doesn’t account for trans and nonbinary people either, go read JAMA and not Substack if you want lab results)
They looked at me like I was talking nonsense. “No,” the men said. “Obviously I do not prioritize my kids. I put myself first, my own well-being, because everything depends on that.
”I can’t be a good worker if I’m destroyed by stress or self-neglect. I can’t be a good partner if I’m too tapped out to talk to my wife.
”I can’t be a good parent if I’m exhausted and broken and broke, which will definitely happen if I neglect my own needs and might happen even if I do everything right. It would be completely irresponsible, antisocial and immoral for me to neglect my own well-being in favor of the people around me.”
Even when these men had parented newborns or done eldercare, they considered that to be the exception, not the rule. Community service outside their paying workday was very far down on their list of might-dos, after “play through the new GTA” and “maybe write that screenplay.” They nurtured themselves.
They nurtured themselves so they could have extra strength, extra resources, extra capacity that could overflow onto their loved ones. If a drought came, the overflow would have to stop, while they refilled their own well.
I said to the women, “You put yourself last? Is that working for you? Do you think your partner reciprocates? Do you think this is sustainable?” and I told them what the men were telling me.
The women were, for the most part, not surprised. They know that the men in their lives are self-focused. But they were surprised that the men knew about this. Cultivated it on purpose. Considered it essential, mandatory, a basic part of adulthood.
They were surprised. Sometimes sad. And then thoughtful.
Then I looked at my own life. I’ve spent many years prioritizing the needs of others. I deliberately cultivated habits of service and good works in my spiritual life; I worked to develop strong relationships in my social and professional lives; I read books about virtue and resilience so I could give generously of my time, my talents, and my treasures. I tried to break myself of the habit of selfishness.
I assumed I had a habit of selfishness. I assumed that everyone does.
And then I mapped that effort onto my personal life as well. There were mixed results.
Just because you put someone else first doesn’t mean they are putting you first.
Work won’t love you back.
And community? Community is a chitinous creature, with a stinger at the end of its tail.
And besides.
Who says we’re selfish savage creatures, red in tooth and claw? Who says this is a dog-eat-dog world?
How many dogs do you know personally who actually want to eat every other dog? I don’t know any, and I live with chihuahuas. I think this has all been a lie, at least for me and a good half of the world’s population, maybe more. Probably more. Most likely more.
I tried to rewrite my character, to start choosing myself instead of giving up the things I want and need.
I assumed it would take an afternoon.
In that miserable afternoon I realized: these habits are too ingrained. Changing a habit is hard.
If you need to turn the ship around, first you have to notice that you have a choice to make. Then figure out which choices are good for you or good for others or some combination of the above. Then figure out which ones you can do and which ones you should do. Sometimes it feels like you need written permission, to choose yourself, and sometimes you are going to need to phone a friend for a pep talk.
But Fat Bear Holly didn’t need permission. Fat Bear Holly didn’t need to phone a friend. All she needed to do was stand knee-deep in the water and indulge her most basic desires.
So for 2023, it’s Fat Bear Goals for me. Fat Bear Holly is my icon and on Friday nights I live the Fat Bear life. I added lox to my regular grocery order and I marked it on my calendar: Fat Bear Friday, every Friday.
On Fat Bear Fridays I do no work. On Fat Bear Fridays I make no appointments. On Fat Bear Fridays I shut my computer down and close the lid. And then I have no deadlines and no dress code, until Saturday morning at the earliest.
I am trying to learn to stay in Bear Mode on Saturdays. I wonder what would happen if I did Sundays too.
Last weekend was President’s Day and I had a boring medical appointment Friday night. I was so mad about missing Fat Bear Friday that I cancelled everything else for the entire weekend and spent three whole days unplugged, scratching my belly and eating snacks. It was marvelous. I woke up Tuesday eager to open my to-do list.
It’s February, right now. I’m two months in and Fat Bear Fridays is going gangbusters. I got rid of my smartphone so I can turn on Fat Bear Mode and Do Not Disturb at the same time, no later than 5 on Fridays. I might listen to a downloaded podcast or watch a downloaded movie but if you need something from me on the weekend?
I will get back to you on Monday. There is no bookseller; only the Bear.
And this bear is busy getting FAT.