Alan Fox

When I was ten years old my mother picked me up early from a friend’s birthday party.

“Dad has to work late,” she said, “and we bought two tickets to a musical so I’m taking you.”

I didn’t know what a musical was, but I was happy to be going somewhere with my mom.

Our seats were in the last row of the gallery, far above the stage.  Even at that distance, I was transfixed by Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza performing Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific.

One of the songs. “Happy Talk,” resonates within me to this day. It ends with four memorable and catchy lines:

“Happy talk

“keep talkin’ happy talk

“If you don’t talk happy and you never have a dream

“Then you’ll never have a dream come true!”

I’ve always talked to myself, partly consciously but mostly unconsciously.  As a rule I believe what I say.  Since I can only trust others to the extent I trust myself, I’ve become rather careful in what I say, especially to myself.

As an entrepreneur and writer I’m always certain I can solve any business or writing problem that arises.  Even though I’m not always correct about this, I start by telling myself “I can” simply because my words of self-encouragement make a positive outcome more likely.

A former president of the United States campaigned on the slogan, “Yes we can.”

That’s an excellent place to begin. Today, as we return from our Labor Day weekend that marks the end of summer, let’s renew ourselves and face the future with the words, “Yes, I can.”

Happy talk — a great way to start the rest of our year.  We’re going to solve all of our problems and have fun doing it.

Alan

Years ago I was privileged to study for a week with Paul Ware, a psychiatrist who lived in Shreveport, Louisiana and specialized in treating adolescents. At the end of the workshop each of his students were given the opportunity to talk with Paul privately for fifty minutes.

I don’t really remember what we talked about when it was my turn. But when we were finished Paul said, “Is there anything else?”

I noted we only had four minutes left.  “There’s not much we can do in four minutes.”

Paul disagreed. “Give it a try,” he said.

“Well, there’s one other thing that bothers me.  Six months ago my fifteen-year-old son got angry. He left my house to go and live with his mother.  He has refused to talk to me ever since.”

“Go home and apologize,” Paul said.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I understand.  Do you want to have a relationship with your son or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then go home and apologize.”

Even though I was almost forty at the time, Paul’s advice was difficult for me to accept, but back home I arranged to see my son.

I told him I was sorry he was upset and apologized.

The room seemed to brighten and he accepted my apology.

We hugged and have enjoyed an excellent relationship ever since.

Obviously, that’s a very big deal for both of us.

I’m not necessarily suggesting that you apologize for anything, especially because we both know that you are always right.  I do, however, suggest that that you can have a life-changing experience in fewer than four minutes.  Like the thirty seconds forty-one years ago when I first saw Daveen working at a desk in a friend’s office.  Today we have three terrific adult daughters.

And unless something distracted you, I’ll bet that reading this blog took fewer than four minutes, although I’m not certain about the life changing part.

Thanks.

Alan

I’m definitely not talking here about the actual length of your life as measured in “clock time”. I’m talking about the subjective time you spend on earth.

When I was young and school was out for the summer my mother used to take my brother and me to many places we loved (even though she didn’t like to drive). One of our favorites was the local zoo. I was entranced, and could spend hours watching the several enormous elephants, the many chattering monkeys, or one of the sleek tigers tearing apart raw meat.  A day at the zoo was always a treat and time passed quickly.

But on many summer days I said to my mother, “Mom, I’m bored. What can I do today?”  After all, she was my mother. Wasn’t it her job to entertain me?

She often tried, but on many days nothing seemed to interest me other than taking advantage of David, my younger brother, in any way I could.

Now, at age 79 I know how to amuse myself, which means that I know how to subjectively shorten my days.

I’m often bored on long airplane flights, especially when I’m too tired to read and too awake to doze.  Early this year I boarded an airplane in New York for a six-hour cross-country trip.  I dreaded the long flight, so in anticipation I had loaded a game onto my cell phone. As soon as the doors shut I happily began to play until, to my disbelief, after what seemed like only a few minutes the pilot interrupted my diversion to announce we were landing in Los Angeles.  Imagine that – it took fewer than three minutes to fly more than two thousand miles.

Sometimes I feel trapped in time.  One day last week seemed interminable but the following day passed in a flash.  But at times in my life it seemed that, overall, I spent too much time feeling bored.  But that is subjective.

So if a movie bores you for more than a few minutes, walk out.  There must be something more interesting you can do.  Last week I was absorbed in an intense conversation with a poet, lasting for an hour and a half “clock time”, but for only a few minutes “Alan time”.

If you’ve spent what seems like more than thirty seconds reading this blog, then I‘m not doing my job.  I value your attention, but you’ll more likely read my next blog if this one was easy to read.

A tease – next week I’m going to demonstrate how much you can improve your life in fewer than four (“clock time”) minutes.

Alan