This is a photo of my favorite chair.  I advise you to never try to sit on it.  It’s a piece of art, but a very uncomfortable chair.

I bought this chair while on a cruise in Alaska.  As best I recall, Daveen politely refused to have it in our home, so it became a temporary resident of my office — for the past twenty-five years.

Lessons learned?

1. When buying furniture or art or other objects to decorate the public areas of our home, it’s better to consult Daveen in advance.
2. Not everyone shares my taste in art. Or chairs.
3. My office is decorated in a jumble of different styles, all of which reflect my eclectic taste.  (Not just gold, gold, gold like the present Oval Office in D.C.)
4. I’m better at buying things than I am at organizing them in any kind of coherent order. Kind of like my shoes at night – which mysteriously turn up in unusual places, although I always find them in the morning – in the bedroom, or bathroom.  Or kitchen.  And even sometimes in the closet.
5. While my organizing style is unreliable, my taste is consistent. I still like the chair.

But we live in a world where we all compare ourselves with others all the time. There is a tale I have shared over the years, which seems particularly relevant to this blog. Years ago, Gina, a dear friend of mine, referred a new investor to me.  The investor visited my offices and reported back to Gina that she wouldn’t invest with me. My office had failed the “Century City Chic” Test.

Three years later Gina mentioned to me that her friend was now REALLY not going to invest with me.

“Why?” I asked.  “Is my office in worse shape now than it was then?”

“No, Alan.  She invested everything she had with her Century City financial advisor.  And he lost it.”

I know I’ve made more than a few poor investment decisions myself, and my fish chair may be one of them. But I also feel uniquely attached to it. This might be the only chair of its kind that exists and, to me, it’s special.

Hmmm, I wonder which one of my children I should leave it to?

And, from an investment point of view… never judge a man by his chair.

Alan

I would have thought, in celebrating my 86th birthday this week, I could easily allow myself the luxury of not being productive for seven days.

And yet, here I am, still producing — in this case my weekly blog.

Habit is first a cobweb, then a cord, and finally a cable.  While I’m sure I could cultivate the habit of not being productive, I’ve actually come to like it.  I enjoy seeing the tangible results of my efforts, and I also like the feeling of having accomplished something.

But I also like to be lazy. I like to spend time in activities that have no value other than my own entertainment.  That’s why I play solitaire on my iPhone (for hours at a time).  In fact, at this very moment I’ve interrupted my leisure time to be productive by writing this blog.

So if I enjoy being lazy, why do I engage in any willful act of productivity at all?  Perhaps a deeper truth is that I use productivity to justify my existence.  All of us must be productive to sustain ourselves.  We work to obtain food and shelter, and there is a special satisfaction from creating something of enduring value.

To summarize – I have many internal debates, and whenever I do I always win (metaphorically).  If I’m considering whether to write my blog, it must be Monday.  If I’m debating whether to play solitaire instead, it must be sometime between Monday afternoon and early the following Monday.  The choice is usually simple, because, as you already know, I respond to deadlines. So, unless I’m close to a deadline, well, solitaire will probably win out.

Fortunately, I enjoy writing my blog, especially once it is done and I can go back to relaxing (until the following week).  And yet, all kidding aside, I find writing to be not only productive, but also fun.  And over time, I’ve managed to create hundreds of blog entries –a nice record of ongoing productivity.

And, best of all, I hope that you are enjoying this blog, and that you are also learning something (that qualifies as being productive).  A twofer!

What could be more productive?

And fun?

Alan

Last week I shared some thoughts about artificial intelligence and technology. This week, I’d like to share a friend’s cautionary reply.  Here is what they wrote:

“…[T]here are lonely people who consider ChatGPT someone to keep them company and they become so attached to AI that AI becomes their best friend. I have several friends who do just that. They talk with ChatGPT most of the day since they are home alone and either their friends are dead or too sick to visit or they just lost touch… Most are retired and their spouses or partners of many years have died.”

In reading this I immediately thought about my parents, who were married to each other for more than fifty years.  My dad survived my mother by almost 30 years.  Yes, that’s not a typo – my dad lived to be 104 (and almost 10 months, as Daveen often reminds me).  My Dad’s father lived to be 94, which is especially impressive for someone born in the 1880’s. But what is a long life lived without social interaction and companionship?

For the first three months after Mom died my dad received invitations, calls from friends, and casseroles.  But after that, he later confided in me, people stopped reaching out and he had to become his own social secretary.  And, lo and behold, he did a terrific job of it.  I took him to a political gathering once, and after fifteen minutes he grabbed my arm and introduced me to his new friend – a Superior Court judge.

It helps that my parents, when in their forties, intentionally sought out new friends who were much younger than they were.  My dad was great at making friends and openly embraced new opportunities to socialize and expand his circle. In his 80s my dad often drove to the local senior center for lunch.  It not only provided him with social contact, the price of lunch was right — $2.00.  He also took up lawn bowling – at age 90 – and won national recognition.

Sadly, many elderly people aren’t able to navigate the world well after losing their life partner. They find themselves feeling isolated and lonely. In 2023, the US Surgeon General released a report called “ Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation,” which concluded that Americans experience loneliness in epic proportions (one out of every two people reported feeling lonely). Vivek Murthy, the Surgeon General at that time shared statements he was hearing from many people. “I have to shoulder all of life’s burdens by myself,” or “If I disappear tomorrow, no one will even notice.”

 I suppose, in the face of such loneliness, it isn’t surprising that so many are turning to ChatGPT for companionship. But none of us know how that will turn out. I can imagine there are many implications we haven’t yet uncovered, and I’m fairly certain that AI can’t take the place of human to human social interaction. Perhaps in the dim and distant future (say twenty years from now) we’ll each have two or three Chatbot friends.  Or, perhaps, Chatbots will prefer talking to other Chatbots.

Or the tale may end like a science fiction story I read seventy years ago, with the robot finally informing its human owner:

“Don’t worry.  I’m here.  Nothing can go wrong.  Go wrong.  Go wrong…”

Cheers.

Alan