Last Wednesday morning in Tokyo, I woke up a little after nine am. Daveen was peering out the window of our Disneyland Hotel and told me it was snowing.

Tokyo. Mid-March. Snow.

With a group of family members, I spent the rest of that day inside DisneySea, a Japanese theme park inside the Disneyland Resort in Tokyo.

How did I like the rides?  I didn’t like, or dislike, any of them — for the simple reason that I didn’t go on any of them.  The crowds were too large and the lines too long. I’m simply not willing to wait three hours to experience three minutes of what? Terror?  (At least on the roller coasters.)

What did I learn?  Beyond any possible doubt – I dislike waiting in a line for two hours to get in anywhere, and I absolutely hate crowds.

If this had been a baseball game (yesterday the L A Dodgers played the opening game of their season in Tokyo against the Chicago Cubs) the score might have been:

Disneyland – $2,000

Alan – one hot dog-like bun with something in it. I don’t know what. Somewhat tasty, but I asked Daveen to donate the second one to a hungry grandchild. He finished it off quickly.

But the crowds!  Did I mention that we stood in line (as part of a mass of thousands) for more than two hours to even enter the park?

And did I mention the walking?  I force myself to walk at least 3,000 steps a day. Yesterday I put in 8,164 steps.  Daveen tells me she walked twice as many.

Fortunately, I’m about to chart my own destiny for the next few days and it doesn’t involve standing in any lines because I had the foresight to bring six books to read. I’ve already almost finished Framed by John Grisham and Jim McClosky. I’ve also started reading. Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams. It’s an expose about the antics of those who founded Facebook. The dust jacket describes the book as, “A cautionary tale of power, greed, and lost idealism.”  The New York Times book reviews claims it is “an ugly, detailed portrait of one of the most powerful companies in the world.”

Meta , the parent company of Facebook, doesn’t want you to read it. So, what else is new?

I’ve traveled to Japan for a two-week cruise around the entire country. The cruise starts in three days. Disney was a side trip for the family – who love all things Disney.

We all learn from experience. But, I prefer to benefit from the mistakes of others, rather than mistakes of my own. But now I know. Disney just isn’t my thing.

So, I guess I’ll hang out for the next three days in our hotel room. I’ll buy snacks from the hotel’s small convenience store where, last time I looked, there were no crowds of thousands blocking my way.

As Daveen and I are fond of saying, I enjoyed both of my visits to Disneyland Tokyo.

My first, and my last.

Alan

P. S. In fairness to Daveen, who loves everything Mickey (and who makes the best of every situation), she had a great time. But she usually does. And I’m enjoying the books I’ve brought to read, so all in all, we’re off to a great start.

Tomorrow, I’m leaving on a three-week trip to Japan with my family. Over the past few weeks, some of my friends have been asking me if I’m excited about my upcoming trip.

I think I might disappoint them when I say that I’m not. But then I share how I like to live in the moment. Right here, right now. So, if I’m talking with you, I’m eager to enjoy our conversation and get the most from our time together, not think about what I’ll be doing in the future.

Other friends, especially those who have known me longer, already know how I’ll respond. These friends might say, “I’m looking forward to your trip. I know you never get excited in advance – so I’ll be excited for you.”

I smile and offer thanks.

But what I’m thinking about is my intention to pay attention to everything in the moment. This day, this hour, and especially this moment that will never come again. The timbre of your voice, the hesitancy of my response, the setting itself — these are well worth making a conscious effort to observe, and appreciate

The reason is simple. If I spend today looking forward to tomorrow, I will miss a large part of today. And tomorrow I would be looking forward to the day after that, etc.  Any attention I spend thinking about the future reduces the attention I have left to appreciate the here and now. I could value only the future. The present would just be something to get through to arrive at what awaits me in in the future, instead of enjoying the good stuff that can only be found in living in today.

But I do enjoy the process of planning, as well as reminiscing about previous experiences — the poignant, the successes, and the occasional mistake — some of which are funny in retrospect. Like this afternoon after I picked up a hamburger and fish fillet sandwich at McDonalds, then remembered that my assistant had earlier placed an order for a hamburger at Five Guys.

So I drove to Five Guys and picked up their “little burger”. My light dinner consisted of the hamburger and filet of fish sandwich. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.

To fully appreciate this moment, you might pay attention to what you are reading – the words on the page, the music you are listening to, or your own reaction to my thoughts. I encourage you to luxuriate in this moment.

NOW is where you live your life. The past is prelude. The future is a but a dream.

Alan

When I was young, I read a science fiction story that made a significant impression on me. The title was, “A Little Bit of Oil,” but despite a quick google search I can’t now locate either the story or its author.

The tale was about mankind’s third round trip mission to Proxima Centauri, the nearest star to our Sun. The first two missions had never returned. Both disappeared while on track to land back on earth, and Mission Control was still trying to figure out exactly what went wrong.

On the third mission the fourth crew member did not fit neatly into any expected category. He was not a pilot or a scientist. His job seemed to be cooking, cleaning, and keeping the other three crew members amused.

After the third flight team successfully landed, it was revealed that the fourth member of their crew was a psychologist, whose job was to provide “a little bit of oil” for the inevitable human friction.  They realized that, encased in a tiny spaceship for ten years, the first two crews had become homicidal and killed each other off. The psychologist, however, was able to keep the third crew from a similar fate, primarily by using humor.

I’ve previously written about how, as a child, this story helped me personally navigate tricky situations. When family vacations went from fun to stressful, I pulled out humor and found it useful. While we often had fun during the day, once my dad needed to find a (cheap) motel, his mood usually turned sour, and he was often upset about something. (He always inspected the room before he paid for it and was often unhappy with its condition). But humor, it seemed, was always a great way to alleviate tension and stress.

One summer, I had the perfect opportunity to test this theory during a “key” moment one afternoon (pun intended).  Dad parked in front of our motel room, then discovered that he had locked his car — with his keys still in the ignition. We carefully retrieved the keys with a wire coat hanger from the room. But throughout the ordeal, I was able to keep everyone happy with a lot of topical humor. A Little Bit of Oil worked then, and it still works today.

And it’s also lots of fun.

Alan