Alan Fox

We live in a world of structures – offices, homes, and buildings of many types. Structures provide shelter and comfort. But they can be a trap.  When I met my second wife Susan she had been living for eleven years in a house she disliked.

“We thought we would just live there for a year, then sell it and buy the slightly more expensive house we really wanted,” she said.

There are other structures that invade and pervade our lives – the habits which are imprinted on us through repetition.

A habit is first a cobweb, then a cord, finally a cable. This is why, in forming habits, we should be careful.  Soon enough our habits will become a boundary beyond which we will seldom travel.

During the past few months I’ve shared many meals with my friend Jim.  While I like to try new foods, Jim was very clear at our recent lunch.

“I will never eat anything that I haven’t eaten before,” he said.  “I never try anything new.”  Jim eats sparingly.  He also works out for more than two hours a day.

I guess I’m never going to feel the endorphin rush that Jim must enjoy, because I’ve never exercised every day, or lately even every week.  I know I should exercise but Jim is defined by his habits and I by mine.

Recently, however, I have, to my surprise and delight, changed my long standing eating habit.

For more than seventy years I have lived to eat.  Before breakfast I started thinking about lunch.  During lunch I salivated over dinner.  At dinner, well, I often ate so much that I couldn’t consider ever eating again.  Until about eleven pm.

Now I eat to live.  I stopped following my parents’ admonition to “finish everything on your plate.”  I now eat until I’m full, or almost full.  I leave food on my plate – especially at restaurants.  Sorry, Dad, I know I’m wasting money.  Sorry, Mom, I know I’m abandoning all those starving children in (fill in the country). Of course, as I remember it, the food left on my plate never fed a single starving child.  It always went either to the dog or down the garbage disposal.

I’m also beginning to organize my life in another constructive way.  Years ago when I left for a two-week vacation I hid my car keys in the closet.  When I returned I couldn’t find them and had to change a lot of locks.  (I found my keys two years later, on the shelf of my bedroom closet, just above eye level.)

I’m now working on organizing my hearing aids. Before going to sleep I used to leave one in the bathroom and the other on the nightstand next to my bed.  Or somewhere else.  But as I rushed to leave my house in the morning I found myself scrambling to find “the other one.”  (Whenever I misplace something I always find it in the last place I look.  If I find it at all.)

Now I’m leaving both hearing aids in the same little saucer on my nightstand every night.  I’ll have to create some other kind of excitement in the morning.

One of my habits for the past five years is to post this blog every Tuesday morning.  That means I have to finish writing and editing by late Monday.  My habit is to always meet a deadline, but I seldom finish any task early.

But this blog is finished.  I’ll write about meeting deadlines another time.

Alan

I occasionally watch poker on TV.  Some players are professional, some are amateur, but they all share the same challenge – to play the hand they’re dealt.  If their first two cards are aces, they play two aces.  If their first two cards are a two and a three, they start with a weak hand.  Regardless, no one can ask for a different hand.

That’s exactly what we face every day.  We don’t control what happens to us (the hand).  We do control our reaction to it (how we play).

This morning I read an article in The Atlantic entitled, “What It Takes to be a Trial Lawyer If You’re Not a Man.”  I emailed the article to several excellent female trial attorneys.  J.F. responded, “It helps to remember it cuts both ways – sometimes your perceived weaknesses can be strengths, if you figure out how to play your cards well & are willing to be a bit lucky.”

That’s why J.F. is a successful trial attorney.  She recognizes both her weaknesses and her strengths. She remembers her ultimate goal is to serve the best interest of her client.  She plays the hand she is dealt, and is willing to take a chance.

Years ago I asked a woman for a date.

“Sorry, Alan, I only date guys who are blond, blue eyes, and six foot three.”

“Thanks for telling me,” I said.  “I might be able to do something about blond hair and blue eyes, but I can’t do much about my being five foot eight.”

I played the hand I was dealt and never saw her again.  Fortunately, other women like men who are my height.

Sometimes we can influence the hand.

An outstanding New York trial attorney I hired told me that his firm was asked to take on more than five hundred new cases a year but they accepted only fifty.

“A case has to meet three criteria.  First, it has to be within our area of expertise.  Second, the client has to have a reasonably good case.  And finally, the client has to be able to pay our fees.”

The same attorney also said, “Our job is not to win for you at trial.  Our job is to represent you so well that the other side will settle on a reasonable basis.”  A year and a half later that is exactly what happened.

Can you stack the deck in your favor?  Just a bit. I heard a comedian in Scotland joke, “I’m on a seafood diet.  I see food, I eat it.”

Me too.

I never buy cookies at a grocery store, which is why I never eat cookies at home.  I don’t see them.  Of course, for a party I’ll buy desert.  But not cookies.  It’s too easy for me to eat just one.  Or two.  Or, well, three.  It’s not so easy for me to sneak a slice from a chocolate cake, which is what I usually buy.  And when my guests leave I insist they take all leftover cake with them.  I know what happens if they don’t.

Once I was playing poker with a group including my father.  He had the best poker hand you can get – a royal flush.  He didn’t bet much because he didn’t want to scare off the rest of us.

Of course, Dad won.  It does help if you hold the right cards but, regardless, you have to play the hand you’re dealt against the hand that was dealt to someone else.

Alan

I’ve been in a hurry most of my life.

I was in a hurry to grow up (at age 4), get married (at 21), and start a family (at 23).  As an accountant I prided myself on preparing an income tax return in four hours when the person who prepared it the year before took ten.  I want to finish writing this blog as quickly as I can so I can start on my next project.  I even justify vacations with the thought that I’ll be much more productive when I return.

Rereading the above paragraph I feel tired already.

But last Thursday I tried something different.  For one entire day, I slowed down.

I had an appointment at 8:00 am with my dental hygienist.  Her office is a sixteen-minute drive from my home.  I usually allow fourteen minutes because I don’t want be early and then have to wait. If traffic is light, and if every traffic light cooperates, I conceivably can complete the drive in fourteen minutes.  It actually happened once.

But last Thursday I left my home at 7:32 am, allowing myself twenty-eight minutes.  I arrived twelve minutes early.  That felt unusual, so I tried to relax in my car, with partial success.  Then I walked slowly from the parking garage to the elevator, enjoying the breeze, the flowers, and my relaxed pace.  I arrived at the dental office five minutes ahead of schedule and looked in a mirror to be sure this stranger was actually me.

I felt totally at peace throughout my visit.  This was a new experience.  Back in my car I figured I had just enough time to rush to my office for a few minutes before heading downtown for an appointment at my bank.  Then I remembered I had invited a friend for dinner and Trader Joe’s was nearby, so I drove to Trader Joe’s instead.

I bought a bouquet of flowers for the evening, as well as a few of my guest’s favorite foods.  Then I stopped at home to put the flowers in a vase before heading downtown.

After the bank meeting I drove to Westwood for lunch with my younger son.  I remained relaxed throughout my entire day, which was a significant change from my normal “rush” mode.

What a nice day last Thursday turned out to be – my very first day of slowing down.

Did I accomplish as much as I might have?  That’s not the right question.

Did I enjoy my day more than I otherwise might have?  Absolutely.

For one entire day I experienced the joy of slowing down, and I recommend it to you.  And you don’t have to slow down all at once.  You can start now, or later, and take your time doing it.  In other words, you don’t have to hurry.

I think I’ll go back to bed now for a few minutes.  Then I’ll be ready for my calm, seven-minute drive to work.

Alan