Alan C. Fox

A few minutes ago I looked at my calendar for the day.  There is an appointment scheduled for 10:00 am – “TAKE TESLA IN FOR SERVICING.”

“Ugh,” I thought to myself.  “That will take me at least an hour.  I don’t have the time.  I don’t know much about cars, and other than the air conditioning not working, I don’t know what to tell them to do.”

In short, I was complaining to myself.

Suppose you said to me, “You are not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”  What would happen?

My chest would tighten, my blood pressure would rise, and my mind would automatically close up to whatever else you had to say. I would prepare to defend myself against both you and your bad news.

The same physiological changes take place when I complain to myself.  My self-inflicted “Ugh” says it all.  “Ugh” puts my body into a state of tension as I automatically try to shut me out from myself.

Everyone does this.  Sometimes we have a “poor me” or “victim” syndrome.  Sometimes we just don’t want to face a particular thought or situation.

But complaining to yourself is not inevitable.  It isn’t preordained.  You have the power to change your life story from “Ugh” to a consistent “Hurrah!”  Complaining to yourself is merely a habit, a painful and self-defeating habit.  As with any other habit, with consistent work and self-reminders, you can change it.

Step one – welcome all ideas, every single one, into your life.  Especially the ideas, “I don’t know what to do,” or, “I don’t want to face this.”  You can figure it out or ask for help.  I’m sure you have at least one friend who would love to help you.

Two weeks ago one of my hearing aids stopped working.  I didn’t want to face the problem.  After all, I had one left.  This morning the second one went kaput.  I immediately changed my “Ugh” into the cheerful thought that I had an opportunity to get out of the office for an hour and have both of them fixed, which I did.  I solved my problem with a happy drive to Costco.  (Yes, they have an excellent hearing aid service.)

Step two – in the coloring book of your response, use lively hues. Make the best of each and every thought or situation. If something is inevitable, why not just let it pass right through you and out the other side?

Years ago a friend lost his job.  I greeted him at dinner with, “Congratulations.  In six months you’ll have a job you like a whole lot more.”  And he did.

If, at this point, you are saying to yourself, Alan is Pollyanna and suggests that we find the joy in everything,” you would be correct.  Except in one respect.

A positive outlook is not unrealistic.  It colors my day joyful and helps me find the eventual pleasure tucked into the corner of every emotional ache.  More importantly, a positive outlook often brings with it a positive outcome.  I can welcome a successful future, rather than try to stop the future.

So what about the car?

After I asked a friend to take it in for servicing my day brightened immediately.

Smiles.

Alan

I’ve heard it said that just before we die we remember special moments, not the weeks or years of our lives.  When I reflect back on my own life I smile at the many examples of kindness that have come my way.  The grand gestures have an impact, but what matters most to me are those small acts of compassion.

After my brother David died of a sudden heart attack fifteen years ago, I remember a friend who sat with me for an hour in total silence.

I remember my 70^th birthday party organized by my adult children.  All I had to do was show up.

I remember the nurse who announced that the operation was a success after my three-week-old grandson had open-heart surgery more than sixteen years ago.

After I die, you might discover that I possess several items no one will have any use for and, and those items will probably be thrown out. Two objects in particular might puzzle you:  a case of Breck Shampoo, and a carton of Fuller Brush hair combs for use in the shower.  These are special to me, and I will tell you why.

When I was a teenager my mother told me that I should shower every day, but only shampoo my hair once a week.

“If you shampoo your hair too often it will dry out.”  My mom had a lot of caring and common sense in her, and I took her word for almost everything.  So I shampooed my hair once a week.

The problem was that my hair is quite oily and hard to manage.  In my twenties I discovered that I really did need to shampoo my hair every day.  I used Breck Shampoo because their bottle said on the label, “For Oily Hair.”  It worked well for me, but years ago the manufacturer went out of business.

My young wife Daveen made it her business, before the internet and eBay, to scour Los Angeles for enough Breck shampoo to last me a lifetime.  I don’t know how many cases she bought, but I still have one or two left, and I still use Breck, even though the shampoo I find in hotel rooms seems to work just as well.  I’ve moved those cases with me many times, and I suspect there will still be a few bottles of Breck left after I won’t need to use them anymore.

The Fuller Brush Story is similar.  Their salesmen used to make house calls to sell their products to my mother.  Think of that.  House calls.  One item my mom bought for me was their special pronged brush for my once-a-week shampooing.  I still like to feel the tingle on my scalp and imagine that those prongs help the blood circulate beneath my scalp.  That’s the secret to my success in thinking, (that I have now disclosed for the first time).

Alas, The Fuller Brush Company stopped making house calls.  The prongs on their brushes snap off over time, so even when I am careful a single brush has never lasted more than six months.

Enter, again, Daveen.  Somehow she located a treasure trove of those Fuller brushes, which still accompany me wherever I live.

I know this is personal, just as every life is personal.  Daveen’s mother collected matchbooks wherever she traveled to remember where she had been.  We each have unique thoughts and habits that end with us, never to return.  Each of us is special.

So for every small gesture, each small kindness, and every act that says, “Alan, I value you and here is a little help,” I offer thanks.

And my thinning white hair still looks pretty good after I shampoo it every day.

Love,

Alan

My parents were close friends with the artist, Peter Krasnow.  When I was young we often visited his studio/home on weekends.  I loved to play in his garden where he grew kale, before it was popular, and I’d “ride” on one of his statues that reminded me of a slightly unbalanced pig.

Peter died in 1979 when he was ninety-three years old.  I remember many stories about Peter. When potential art patrons visited his modest studio they often asked if he earned his living by selling his paintings and sculptures.  He would always say, “No.  I actually earn my living by running a saloon on Main Street.”

When I was 23 I wanted to buy my first house. I needed a $2,200 down payment.  My parents were on an extended tour of Europe.  Peter (remember, he was an artist – and there was no saloon) offered to loan me the money.

But my strongest memory of Peter was the time he was ill. For several months, he was unable to hold a paint brush.  After he recovered, Peter said to me, “Alan, I’m so glad I’m better because every day I can’t wait for the sun to come up so I can start to paint.”

Every year I support The Pollination Project which provides small grants to many people who help others.  In a recent letter their Executive Director, Alissa Hauser, quoted Martin Luther King:

“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve.  You don’t have to have a college degree to serve.  You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve.  You only need a heart full of grace.  A soul generated by love.”

In honor of my father who, at age 103, is still perhaps the best music teacher in the world, I recently made a significant grant to the University of Arizona.  Last Monday my dad and I spent our day visiting The Fred Fox School of Music in Tucson. While there, we met with the president of the University to discuss changes that will better serve the school’s passionate and flourishing student body. We were joined by Ed Reid, the Director of the School of Music, along with Tom Patterson, a world renowned guitar professor who has built their program over the past thirty-seven years.

Our meeting was extremely productive. All of us, notably including the President (who gives out his cell phone number to students), are focused on serving the greater good of the school.

After the meeting, we dined at an excellent Chinese restaurant. My fortune cookie said, “Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change.”  Lose?  Haha.

Win or lose, we can help others.  Every one of us can help someone else every single day.

And that is why I could hardly wait for the sun to come up this morning.

Love,

Alan