Alan Fox

During the past week Daveen and I have been touring New Zealand.  I brought my laptop with me solely for the purpose of writing my blog while we’re away.  I know I must be relaxed, because it took me almost a minute to remember my password.

It’s Sunday here, and we spent a lovely day cruising on Lake Taupo then enjoying a massage in our beautiful room at Huka lodge, which I recommend – unless you want to lose weight.  The food is far too delicious.

This blog may be more succinct than usual because it’s late and we’re leaving early tomorrow morning for Auckland to continue our adventure.

I realize that normally we travel for between ten and twelve weeks out of every year.  But the past several years have been anything but normal.  In February 2020, I read a book about the so-called Spanish Flu of 1918. I remember feeling thankful that we live in an age of modern medicine in which a pandemic wouldn’t be possible.  Little did I know that in less than a month Covid-19 would sweep the planet and drastically change the way we lived.   This is only our second major trip since 2020.

And yet, while I am relaxing on the other side of the world, I keep up with the news from home.  I see that snow has actually fallen in Los Angeles.  The last time that happened was, I believe, in 1952.  It was a Saturday.  I was twelve years old and wanted to play in the snow, but I had a piano lesson.  My parents insisted I attend.  By the time I returned home the snow had melted.

As they say, life is what happens while you’re making plans. Or practicing the piano. Or on vacation in the wilds of New Zealand. We’ve all weathered the past few years as best we can.

While I’m sorry to have missed my chance to play in the snow in Los Angeles for a second time, I’m grateful to once again be enjoying the joys of traveling.

Love to all.

Alan

As many poets know, if you pay attention, the world is full of “found” poems.  I “found” this title at lunch last week inside a fortune cookie at a Chinese restaurant.  I think it is considerably more thought-provoking than the generic fortunes you usually find inside fortune cookies – such as “Your hard work will soon be rewarded.”

I’ve always assumed that the stage is already there – and our job is simply to enter stage left or stage right and play our roles.  But I’m always – well, generally – glad to have an opportunity to expand my ideas and perceptions, so while I might not be sure what my fortune means, it is certainly worth thinking about.

You create your own stage?  Perhaps that means we each choose the environments in which we will live our lives, and those become our stage.  For me the two most important “stages” in my life are my family and my business. In one I am the founder and in the other I am the patriarch.

On my family stage I am fortunate to have a large family. Most live in the Los Angeles area.  Especially during the Covid pandemic my social contacts have largely been limited to work and family.  Why catch Covid from a stranger?  That’s what families are for.  We get together with our sons or daughters almost every weekend and, we always enjoy each other’s company.  No one drinks, so there is never a drunken uncle at our Thanksgiving celebrations.

In business I formed ACF more than fifty years ago, and that is my other chosen stage.  I, and thirty to forty others, have been the rotating cast that populates the ACF stage.  Several employees have been with me for more than thirty years.  I must admit that, at least in business, I believe in one dictator – I mean leader – at a time, and my role as CEO and president has lasted for more than half a century.  Take that, you term-limited presidents of the United States, (public office is not and has never been one of my chosen stages).

A famous writer who won the Nobel Prize for Literature was asked by a reporter, “How do you feel about that?”

The author replied, “I don’t know.  I haven’t written about it yet.”

That response always rings true to me.  Writing about something brings me emotional clarity and I often know better what I am feeling and thinking after I’ve written about it.

What is your stage, and who is your audience? Who are the other players? Is your stage one you have created for yourself? If not, and it isn’t one of your choosing, perhaps you should, as per the wisdom in my fortune cookie, change stages and create one that suits you better.

That’s something worth thinking about.

Alan

What can I write as an encore to last week’s blog?

Last week I wrote about death.  This week I’ll focus on life – my grandchildren, to be specific.

I have six biological children who now range in age from their mid-thirties to almost sixty.  As every parent can easily imagine, it’s been a trip.  And now I am blessed with ten grandchildren who range in age from 15 months to thirty years.

I will admit that I’m not your standard grandpa, especially since I typically gravitate toward people with whom I can have an adult conversation.  For example, my oldest grandchild, Grace, is now a Resident at a Harvard hospital.  (Yes, I’m bragging.  In that way I can enjoy a small part of her applause, while doing none of the actual work.)

About ten years ago, when Grace was nineteen, I realized that I had never had a real adult conversation with her, so I arranged for us to have lunch.  I was amazed.  She was thoughtful, interested in almost everything, and a delightful lunch companion.  Though Grace is now completing her training as an anesthesiologist, she certainly did not put me to sleep.

Over the past weekend much of the family was together.  I took great delight in watching my grandson Robin who is two years old, give or take.  (I don’t keep track of birthdays, but Daveen does an impeccable job of that.)  Lately, Robin has attracted a lot of attention and laughter by calling out, “Daveeeeeeeeen.”  I think he was originally imitating me, but it’s so funny that almost everyone in the family has begun imitating him.

I’ve read that many people born today will still be alive in the year 2100.  That bogles my mind, especially since in that year Robin would be nearly the age I am today.

I’m remembering two lines from the play Julius Caesar by Shakespeare.  “The evil that men do lives after them.  The good is oft interred with their bones.”  (Shakespeare certainly had a way with words.)

I prefer to amend that line. I believe that the good we do lives after us, hopefully to be continued, and amplified, by our children and grandchildren.

To them — I love you all.

Alan