I own a kangaroo tie, though for the life of me I can’t recall why. It’s blue, and features a bunch of happy kangaroos, and is ugly under any post-1994 definition of tie ugliness.
This week I’m appearing as a guest on Jim Rome’s excellent TV show, and as I packed I told Casey, my 10-year-old daughter, that she could pick out my ties for the week.
“Even the kangaroo one?” she said excitedly.
I sighed. “OK,” I said. “Maybe …”
“Yes!” she said. “Wear it!”
So, yesterday, I wore it. I told everyone in the studio that my daughter picked out the tie, and if my daughter picked out the tie I was obligated to give it a whirl, and I know it’s silly and … and … and …
Nobody (rightly) particularly cared.
That’s the thing about TV—and, truly, life. We always worry about what everyone else is thinking about us when, 95 percent of the time, nobody’s thinking much about us at all. Why? Because we’re so busy thinking about what others are thinking, we’re not thinking at all. Think about it. Or don’t think about it.
But I wore the tie.
And Casey was quite thrilled.