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Now that my pogo stick resides in the trunk of my car and the memory of it dwells in the file folder of my mind, I feel a bit at loose ends.  What will I write about this week?

Last night I lay in bed musing and just as I fell asleep it came to me.  A question.  Do you have B.O.?

No, I’m not talking about body odor.  Do you have Boundless Optimism?

I founded my company, ACF Property Management, Inc. on March 1, 1968. We will celebrate our fiftieth anniversary this coming Thursday, March 1, 2018.  It’s been a wild ride.

We’ve survived three major recessions. Those were difficult times when tenants were pleading for rent reductions every single day, and investors were distressed because their monthly cash distribution checks were severely reduced.  Our properties have survived earthquakes, hurricanes, and floods. As of tomorrow morning, we will have met 1,200 consecutive payrolls.

In short, we have thrived through good times and bad while facing many challenges.  I used to complain about the challenges to my father, who will be 104 years old in July. Every time he said to me, “Alan, if your business didn’t have problems then they wouldn’t need you.”  It took me years to hear Dad’s message and stop whining to him.  While he did not appear to be sympathetic, he was quite helpful.

Every single time a problem arose – the need for an expensive new roof, the bankruptcy of a major tenant, the departure of a valued employee – I always said to myself, “I can solve this.”  Often I didn’t know exactly how I would solve the problem, but I was always sure I could.  My mindset has always been one of Boundless Optimism.

I believe it was Samuel Johnson who wrote years ago, “A man’s second marriage represents the triumph of hope over experience.”   How about a fourth marriage last year when I was 76?  My optimism remains boundless, and the result has been spectacular.

I know that there are times when each of us can feel hopeless, beset by excessive worry. As Shakespeare writes in Hamlet, “There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

I wish you many happy thoughts today, together with an endless supply of B. O.

Alan

P.S.  A video of my short-lived pogo stick escapade is below:

It seemed like a great idea: get some exercise by jumping on a pogo stick. But it expanded into a series of blogs in which I’ve tried to explain why I have not yet bounced to the moon on my professional-style pogo stick. Last week I promised this week would be the do or die. (Poor choice of words, perhaps.)

I will now answer the question that all of you are asking. Did I actually bounce on my pogo stick?

My answer is a hearty YES. And a feeble NOT REALLY. To paraphrase President Bill Clinton, “That depends on what the word ‘bounce’ means.”

First a bit of flavor.

During the week an attorney friend of mine spied my pogo stick in the trunk of my car. He asked why it was there and I told him.

“Don’t do it,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now I can say I refused to bounce to the moon, upon advice of counsel.”

Yesterday Sprite and I visited our friend Ed in Tucson.

“I follow your blog,” he said, “so I drove to Costco and bought some bubble wrap for you. It might save your life.”

Sure enough, he gave me a large green roll of the stuff. The bubble wrap seemed like a great idea. Take a close look at the photo. That’s me on my white pogo stick, with green bubble wrap taped around my torso. I loved the crackle when I popped some of the bubbles.

I thought that grass would be a safer surface than concrete on which to fall, so after celebrating our first wedding anniversary at breakfast, Sprite and I drove to a local park. There were no strong young men around to hold me steady while I mounted the darn thing, so I found a tree. An older man getting out of his car stopped to watch. He waved and said, “Good luck.”

With my left hand I seized the pogo stick and with my right hand I clutched the tree. Then I climbed aboard and slowly began to bounce. Yes, my life has always been full of ups and downs.

YES, I was bouncing. But NOT REALLY. The pogo stick never actually left the ground because, well, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

Whew! I feel like I dodged a bullet here. Would anyone like a very slightly used pogo stick? It’s in the trunk of my car.

As we were driving home, Sprite mumbled to me under her breath, “Glad that’s over. Now maybe you’ll be around for our second wedding anniversary.”

I refrained from revealing to her my next hobby – elephant jumping.

Alan

P.S. By next week I plan to give you the link for the video of my 28 second pogo stick ride.

P.P.S. I’m not planning to go into detail on elephant jumping, because I don’t know if the elephant is supposed to jump over me, or I’m supposed to jump over the elephant, or the elephant is supposed to jump with me on top. But leaving that aside, even a small elephant won’t fit in the trunk of my car.

I created an equation years ago: Happiness equals expectations minus perception of reality.

This means that if you are expecting a bonus of $100.00 and receive only $50.00, you will be disappointed.  If you expect a bonus of $25.00, however, and receive $45.00, then you will be pleased even though the absolute amount of the bonus is $5.00 less.

So, for increased happiness, my advice to you is don’t expect more than you think you will receive.

At the Winter Olympics Red Gerard, 17 years old, was the first gold medal winner for the United States.  Did he expect to win the gold medal?  In his own words:

“I’m absolutely just mind-blown. I can’t believe everything worked out, and honestly I don’t think I’ve really had time to let it set in yet. I’m just so happy I got to land a run, and just to end up on the podium is awesome.”

He didn’t even talk about winning the gold medal.  For him, just ending up on the podium was awesome.

On to my own athletic saga:  Alan and the Pogo Stick.

Originally I thought I would buy the pogo stick and accessories as a fun way to get some exercise. Upon delivery, I adjusted that plan, but still intended to take some jumps on it while Sprite took a few photos or a video, and then I would be finished.  I didn’t expect a gold medal.  I didn’t even expect to stand on a podium.  I only expected to accomplish my goal of jumping on the pogo stick, at least once. If you have been following my blog for the past few weeks you may have expected the same thing.

It hasn’t been that easy.  First of all, it is not a kid’s pogo stick.  It has a pressurized air chamber.  When my young techie friend Kevin pumped air into the pogo stick he jumped on for a test ride and ended up smashed against the corner of his desk.  I was not encouraged.  In fact, I was scared.

In my office, with Kevin holding on for balance, I tried to step onto my pogo stick and try it out.  That was easier said than done.  I think I have pretty good balance.  My pogo stick disagrees.  It tried to tip me over.  Pogo stick 1, Alan 0.

Kevin suggested that I try it out on a grass field.  “Better to fall on grass than on concrete.”  He was right.  But I was not encouraged.  In fact, I was discouraged.

I am not eager to go to the park to fall on the ground.  But it’s now or never time.  This coming week I will either take a few jumps on it, or donate the darned thing to the Olympic Committee for Pogo Sticking.  Or to Red Gerard.  I’ll bet he would be leaping ten feet into the air within a few minutes.  But I’m sixty years older than he is, and anyway he’s going to be too busy signing autographs for the next several years.

I’m sorry about not meeting your expectations.  Or mine.  Give me just one more week.  Please.  And I’ve decided not to buy a big dog with an enormous appetite.

Stay tuned.  Just don’t expect too much.

Thanks.

Alan