Alan Fox

During my second year at USC law school I found myself bored.  I’d already decided to practice commercial law, so courses in civil procedure or criminal law did not hold my interest.  To keep myself engaged, however, I signed up for an evening class.

I always tried to choose my elective courses based on the quality of the teacher, rather than the subject matter.  Dr. Allan Casson, a professor in the USC English Department, was highly recommended by several of my friends, so I enrolled in his evening Shakespeare class.

At the beginning of his second lecture students began to ask questions.  Dr. Casson asked the class to hold their questions until the end and assured us that all of our questions would be answered during his lecture.

“What an arrogant snob,” I thought.  “At the end of his lecture I will have at least six questions he hasn’t answered.”

I must admit that his presentation was so comprehensive that he did, indeed, answer every question I might have thought of.  In fact, I scribbled notes at a furious rate for the full 2-1/2 hours, and this turned out to be one of the most educational and enjoyable classes I’d ever attended.

The final exam was a single essay question. We were asked to discuss the interrelationships among the five Shakespeare plays we had studied.  My initial reaction was, “This is the best test question I’ve ever read.” My second reaction was, “I don’t even know how to start to answer this question.”

In every situation where I’m not sure how to proceed, I stuff the problem into my subconscious, and ask for an answer.  This usually works.

During that exam I had an almost “out-of-body” experience as I watched my right hand write a lengthy essay, including information I didn’t even know I had learned.  I was amazed.  And delighted.

Dr. Casson had a successful career at USC and received USC’s Associates Award for Excellence in Teaching in 1966 and 1978.  Based upon my experience, he richly deserved all accolades.

As I write this, I’m reminding myself that it might be a good idea for me, even today, to find another outstanding teacher, and enjoy learning something new.  It’s fun.

As they say, it’s never too late to enjoy a successful childhood.

Alan

Who talks to you more than any other person in the world?

I used to say it was my mother, sitting on my shoulder and whispering, “Look both ways before you cross the street.”  But her message has become engrained.  Even on a one-way street I look both ways, and that is without even thinking about my mother’s warning.  She might have been cautious, but she was also right.

Today, however, I would say that the person I hear talking to me more than anyone else – is me.

But that is a good thing, because I get to choose what I say.

For example, outside my office I seldom think about work because, when I do, I mostly remember the problems, or the mistakes, that I can’t do anything about.  Close to forty years ago I found a small typo in a memo I had sent two years earlier. The thought of that typo still bothers me today, if I let myself I think about it.  Solution?  I seldom let myself think about it.

I’m happier when I think about the high points in my life, rather than low points.  This is true despite being able to still hear my father telling me it is important to correct my mistakes.  Dad – I once burned my hand on the stove.  I don’t have to remember that every time I fry an egg.  Life has taught me to be more careful than I used to be, and that is lesson enough.

I know many people preemptively worry that something bad will happen before it does.  I understand why, but when I find myself worrying about something beyond my control, I remember a line from the 2015 movie, Bridge of Spies. (I’ve mentioned this anecdote before, but I think it’s worth repeating).  When Tom Hanks, playing an attorney, is leaving the prison cell of Mark Rylance, playing a spy, Hanks turns to Ryland and says, “You do understand that if we lose in court you could be executed.”

Rylance responds, “I do.”

“But you don’t seem to be upset.”

“Would it help?” Rylance asks, shrugging his shoulders.

Perfectionists, beware.  You have nothing to lose but your peace of mind. So I suggest you filter out the negative thoughts and focus on the positive.

Alan

A few weeks ago, Daveen visited one of our daughters and I was alone for five days while she was out of town.  This past weekend we were both at home, although we were engaged in our own separate activities.

I enjoy spending some of my time alone.  Like my father, I’m always thinking about something, and I certainly have a long list of books I’d like to read.

As far as I’m concerned, I only need to have two rooms in my home.  We’ve lived in our house for about five years, and I’ve spent most of my time either in our combined family room/kitchen or in our bedroom where Daveen and I each have a desk.  Today I had a meeting scheduled with Tim to select poems for Rattle, but Daveen unexpectedly hosted a party, so Tim and I had to work in the living room.  That was a first!

While I don’t need company, I realize that I like to have Daveen in the house.  This provides the possibility of company.  Also, it’s nice to have someone there to deal with the occasional spider that might come along, or to reset the pesky burglar alarm when it malfunctions.

I draw a distinction between actual company and the possibility of company for the following reason.  When I have actual company I feel a need to pay attention to them.  But if they are going about their own business I can pay attention to whatever I like.  I know they are available.  It’s like having a savings account I can dip into.

The reason I distinguish between my need for actual company vs. the possibility of company is because I think it’s important for all of us to figure out what we really need to be content (as distinguished from what we think we should need).

When I think about company, I like the possibility as much as – and sometimes even more than – the actuality.

See you soon!  Possibly.

Alan