“Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where the flowers is.”

Before he died in May, 2019 at the age of 104, my dad recited this little poem to me every spring. For me spring has always been a time of renewal, even in Los Angeles where no one has ever needed a snow shovel.  Although, I do remember that day in the early 1950s when an inch of snow covered the ground one January morning. Sadly, it all melted while I was taking my piano lesson – so I never got the chance to play in it.

This year I’m seeing a lot of new green buds pushing into the sunlight, but I’m still waiting for many of the flowers to bloom.

Hopefully, along with winter, the pandemic is on its way out in most areas of the country, especially as we are able to spend more time outdoors and more people get vaccinated.  Airlines are reporting advance reservations in almost pre-pandemic numbers, and when I recently tried to make reservations at Yellowstone for this summer, the facilities were already fully booked for July and August.

I’m looking forward to a productive year, with special thanks to my dad, who taught me how to garden, and who brought poetry, wisdom, and so many flowers into my life.

As a friend wrote in signing my high school yearbook, “Yours until the Hollywood Bowl has soup.”

Love,

Alan

When I was very young I decided that the more I used my body the sooner it would wear out.  Later, when I was in school, I learned that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line.

I concluded that I would live longer if I moved my body the absolute minimum amount I could. This may be the ultimate couch potato rationalization, but I actually lived as if the shortest distance between two points was to stay in the same place.

Exercise?  Cardio?  Hiking?  Those were activities indulged in only by foolish people who didn’t know any better.

Modern science, of course, has thoroughly discredited my original belief.  It is well established that, within limits, the more you use your body the longer it will last.  Throughout our lives we are often exposed to ideas that contradict our fixed ways of thinking, and the real question is whether or not we learn to adjust our choices.

During the past year I have made the effort to walk an average of more than three miles every day.  Through conscientious eating I have lost about ten pounds.  I find that, with most restaurants closed to inside dining, it’s easier for me to eat a healthy meal at home than it was in a restaurant.

From the time we are young, our life decisions are shaped by our beliefs, both conscious and unconscious, such as “finish everything on your plate”.  For better or for worse, we live by those decisions throughout our entire lives unless and until we change those underlying beliefs and are able to act on new decisions.

Here are three more unhelpful ideas I held onto for many years.

1. Women are always warm and considerate. Men are always angry and abrupt.
2. You don’t really need to brush your teeth.
3. Never throw anything away. That would be wasting money, and you never know when you may need it.  (To this day when Daveen shows me some possession that I haven’t seen in twenty years, and I don’t remember it at all, I still want to keep it, “Just in case.”)

We are creatures of habit – typically starting each day in the same way with a cup of coffee, or tea or whatever our morning ritual entails.

But every once in a while we might peek deeper into ourselves to discover if we can improve our situation by changing a behavior that no longer serves us, and then, maybe, we’ll take a walk, or clean out a closet, or do something new, which is more interesting and productive than just staying in one place.

Alan

Three hermits lived in a cave.  A horse trotted by the entrance.

After a few months the first hermit said, “Sure was a nice palomino horse.”

Three years later the second hermit said, “Wasn’t palomino.  Was tan.”

Five years after that the third hermit began to pack.  “If you two are going to talk so much, I’m leaving.”

That’s great advice.  If you talk too much your audience might leave.

This also applies to writing. For me the first rule is:  Make it interesting.  To be interesting, communication must be succinct.

A good conversation, or writing, should not be like the roach motel – you can easily get in, but you can never leave.  For this blog I want you to get in and be able to leave in no more than a few minutes.

Editing helps me clarify and condense.  Just the other day I was writing to a friend about, “the kitchen of my house.” Of course my friend already knew I was in my house, so I pared the comment down to, “in my kitchen.”

I only saved three words, but from a reader’s perspective I’d cut the phrase in half.  Thanks to editing, most of my blogs are between 300 and 400 words.  To keep them brief I always remember, “If it’s interesting and serves a useful purpose, leave it in.  If in doubt, leave it out.”

We also respond to variety.  Who wants to read a book where every sentence and every paragraph appear to be identical?

Years ago, my dad traveled to the Philippines and Japan as a member of the Xavier Cugat Band.  Cugat always reminded his band members, “One fast, then slow.  One fast, one slow.”  He was talking about variety.

While the elements of interesting writing also apply to other forms of communication, when engaged in a conversation there is an even more important element, and that is to listen.  People often think I’m more interesting when I listen, than when I talk.

Thanks for listening for a few minutes.

Alan