Alan Fox

To keep current on important news, I read the New York Times online every day.  They always feature one lengthy human-interest article.  One story last week was about two elderly Chinese gentlemen who met in a homeless shelter in New York City and became best friends.

As children, my younger brother David and I played together (and fought together).  When mom brought him home from the hospital, I was no longer the center of attention.  Did that bother me?

You bet.  After observing him carefully for a few months I said to Mom, “He doesn’t seem to be useful for anything.  Take him back.”  She ignored my request.

David loved to play ping pong.  Knowing this, I would only agree to play with him if the loser took the winner’s turn washing the dinner dishes.  Since I was older, I usually won. That wasn’t a bad trade-off, I thought, since playing ping pong is far more fun than washing the dishes.

As adults, we became best friends.  David, who was very quick on his feet, was an outstanding trial attorney.  He represented me at one deposition in which he flawlessly shielded me from the unwarranted and intrusive questions of opposing counsel. I still remember feeling extremely grateful to my little brother for his protection. By then I had unequivocally revised my original opinion. He was, in fact, very useful.

Almost twenty years ago he didn’t appear at work, and his office staff asked his ex-wife to check on him.  We had last seen him the weekend before at a 4^th of July party.

Carolyn called me from his house, where she found his body.  Apparently, he died from a totally unexpected heart attack.  He was sixty years old.

I was devastated. For six months, I had trouble functioning.  I have never fully recovered from his loss and haven’t had a male friend that I felt as close to since.

Reading the article in the NY Times reminded me of the importance of friendships. And so, I made a promise to myself to appreciate my friends more fully. We don’t need to wait for Thursday June 8, 2023 (which is Best Friends Day in the United States).

I urge you to hold your friends close.  They may not be around forever.

Alan

The 4^th of July brings back memories of summertime with my mom when my brother and I were young.

Every morning I’d ask, “Mom, what can I do today?”

Often her reply was, “Let’s go to the zoo.”  In those days we could actually interact with some of the animals. I especially liked feeding peanuts to the elephant.

Today, when I’m not working, I still ask myself the same question.

“What can I do today?”

My best answer is to do something that adds value to my life.

What does that mean? Well, it can mean many things to different people.

For me it means I can read something interesting.  Or I can work on a project with someone.  I can write my blog.  I can call a friend.  Today we’re having a small 4^th of July party, which adds value in lots of ways not only for me but also for our guests. Here are some of the ways we will add value to our day:

My family, especially my grandchildren, will enjoy the pool. (Sometimes it’s not easy to get them out).

We’ll share our plans and experiences.  That’s always fun – and fun is one of the best ways to add value to your life.

We’ll eat a meal together.  What could be better than a shared meal?

Daveen just let me know that everyone is starting to eat.  Should I spend another half hour on this blog?

Well, it’s a holiday, it’s time for lunch and I’m hungry.  So, I’ll finish this blog and add value in other ways later.

I hope you did something to “add value” to your life on the 4^th and I encourage you to do the same every day of your life.

Alan

Did you know that more than one-third of all food is wasted?  That would not make my parents happy.

For many years I was proud of myself when I finished all the food on my plate.  I pleased my dad, who insisted that we not waste food.  Also, I enjoyed eating.

When I graduated from high school, I weighed 207 pounds.  Later I ballooned to 278 pounds, which I reduced to 220 through healthy lifestyle changes.  The scale this morning displayed 192.6.

At a nice restaurant yesterday, I ordered a BLT sandwich for lunch.  Half of that sandwich is now in my refrigerator.

Finishing everything on my plate was a long-term habit which I have finally discarded.  How did I do that?

I’ll give full credit to the nutritionist I worked with, who made a life-changing suggestion.

“Eat half your sandwich, open face, at lunch, and the other half in the late afternoon,” she said.

What a revolutionary idea.  Unlike my father she did not grow up in the Great Depression.  Unlike my mother, she didn’t believe that how I ate would have an impact on “the starving children in China.”  My mother never did explain exactly how wasted food at our house would magically feed the children of China, but we all use many arguments in life that are unrealistic.  For whatever reasons, I consumed too much food for most of my life.

Every one of us grows up with ideas on how we should do things.  I was startled one morning when I walked into the kitchen to find my young son Steven kneeling on the kitchen counter next to the cook top frying an egg.  He wasn’t tall enough to reach the stove, but he solved the problem in his own way.

My son no longer kneels on the countertop to cook. But many habits have a way of continuing long past the day of their usefulness.

Do you still finish everything on your plate?

Years ago, I was told a story about a girl whose mother taught her to cut off both ends of the roast before cooking it.  As an adult, she discovered that this family practice had begun with her great-great grandmother, whose oven was too small for the entire roast.

I hereby give you permission to leave as much food as you like on your plate.

And you can give yourself permission to revise every one of your other life rules, notably those that no longer work for you.

Alan