Shortly after I opened my law office more than fifty years ago I bought a carved oak bookcase that I treasured.  It remained in my offices until last week.

Times change. When we moved to a new building fifteen years ago my lovely bookcase didn’t fit into my personal office at work, and its style didn’t fit in with the décor of our home.  So I moved it to Ed’s office where I enjoyed seeing it once or twice a week.

Now Ed has become a consultant, which means he’s semi-retired while I am not.  Is there something wrong with this picture?  I don’t think so, because I enjoy working and keeping my mind sharp (assuming it was sharp in the first place).  We have hired four new employees to start work next month, so we have to convert Ed’s former office into a space that will serve the needs of two people. This means we no longer have room for my oak bookcase.

My typical solution is: “put it into storage.”  But by this stage of my life I have proven over and over again that storage for me is like the Roach Motel.  What goes in never comes out.  Over the years I have paid thousands of dollars in storage fees, after which I have paid thousands of dollars to get rid of sofas, tables, chairs, lamps, and cheap or broken works of art.

My other solution is to sell.  But I remembered when I purchased the bookcase my friend Jim had also liked it.  If I remember correctly, I saw it first and kept it for myself.

So when the movers asked, “Where do you want the bookcase to go?” I thought of Jim.  Now, fifty years later, he is still a valued consultant to my business and places all of our new loans.  Jim has a lovely home filled with books and art.  I thought my bookcase more belonged with him than in a rented storage unit or sold off to someone I didn’t know.

“Deliver it to Jim,” I said, with only a slight hesitation in my voice.

I learned long ago to reserve my love for people, not things. I briefly considered offering the cabinet to Jim only if he paid for the delivery charge.  After all, he lives some distance from my office.  But my father told me years ago that if you treat someone to dinner you should cover the tip as well.  In other words, take care of everything.

Last week I received the following text from Jim:  “They delivered the bookcase today.  It is beautiful and I have admired it for forty years.  Thank you so much.  It is without doubt the best gift I ever got for somebody else’s birthday!”

This blog is about a gift.  Not the gift of the bookcase.  This blog is about the gift Jim and I have given to each other, and is our friendship of more than forty years.

Each day is the date of our rebirth.  It is the best day to enjoy the fresh breeze in your face, and the most precious gift of all — friendship.

Love,

Alan

Now that my pogo stick resides in the trunk of my car and the memory of it dwells in the file folder of my mind, I feel a bit at loose ends.  What will I write about this week?

Last night I lay in bed musing and just as I fell asleep it came to me.  A question.  Do you have B.O.?

No, I’m not talking about body odor.  Do you have Boundless Optimism?

I founded my company, ACF Property Management, Inc. on March 1, 1968. We will celebrate our fiftieth anniversary this coming Thursday, March 1, 2018.  It’s been a wild ride.

We’ve survived three major recessions. Those were difficult times when tenants were pleading for rent reductions every single day, and investors were distressed because their monthly cash distribution checks were severely reduced.  Our properties have survived earthquakes, hurricanes, and floods. As of tomorrow morning, we will have met 1,200 consecutive payrolls.

In short, we have thrived through good times and bad while facing many challenges.  I used to complain about the challenges to my father, who will be 104 years old in July. Every time he said to me, “Alan, if your business didn’t have problems then they wouldn’t need you.”  It took me years to hear Dad’s message and stop whining to him.  While he did not appear to be sympathetic, he was quite helpful.

Every single time a problem arose – the need for an expensive new roof, the bankruptcy of a major tenant, the departure of a valued employee – I always said to myself, “I can solve this.”  Often I didn’t know exactly how I would solve the problem, but I was always sure I could.  My mindset has always been one of Boundless Optimism.

I believe it was Samuel Johnson who wrote years ago, “A man’s second marriage represents the triumph of hope over experience.”   How about a fourth marriage last year when I was 76?  My optimism remains boundless, and the result has been spectacular.

I know that there are times when each of us can feel hopeless, beset by excessive worry. As Shakespeare writes in Hamlet, “There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

I wish you many happy thoughts today, together with an endless supply of B. O.

Alan

P.S.  A video of my short-lived pogo stick escapade is below:

It seemed like a great idea: get some exercise by jumping on a pogo stick. But it expanded into a series of blogs in which I’ve tried to explain why I have not yet bounced to the moon on my professional-style pogo stick. Last week I promised this week would be the do or die. (Poor choice of words, perhaps.)

I will now answer the question that all of you are asking. Did I actually bounce on my pogo stick?

My answer is a hearty YES. And a feeble NOT REALLY. To paraphrase President Bill Clinton, “That depends on what the word ‘bounce’ means.”

First a bit of flavor.

During the week an attorney friend of mine spied my pogo stick in the trunk of my car. He asked why it was there and I told him.

“Don’t do it,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now I can say I refused to bounce to the moon, upon advice of counsel.”

Yesterday Sprite and I visited our friend Ed in Tucson.

“I follow your blog,” he said, “so I drove to Costco and bought some bubble wrap for you. It might save your life.”

Sure enough, he gave me a large green roll of the stuff. The bubble wrap seemed like a great idea. Take a close look at the photo. That’s me on my white pogo stick, with green bubble wrap taped around my torso. I loved the crackle when I popped some of the bubbles.

I thought that grass would be a safer surface than concrete on which to fall, so after celebrating our first wedding anniversary at breakfast, Sprite and I drove to a local park. There were no strong young men around to hold me steady while I mounted the darn thing, so I found a tree. An older man getting out of his car stopped to watch. He waved and said, “Good luck.”

With my left hand I seized the pogo stick and with my right hand I clutched the tree. Then I climbed aboard and slowly began to bounce. Yes, my life has always been full of ups and downs.

YES, I was bouncing. But NOT REALLY. The pogo stick never actually left the ground because, well, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

Whew! I feel like I dodged a bullet here. Would anyone like a very slightly used pogo stick? It’s in the trunk of my car.

As we were driving home, Sprite mumbled to me under her breath, “Glad that’s over. Now maybe you’ll be around for our second wedding anniversary.”

I refrained from revealing to her my next hobby – elephant jumping.

Alan

P.S. By next week I plan to give you the link for the video of my 28 second pogo stick ride.

P.P.S. I’m not planning to go into detail on elephant jumping, because I don’t know if the elephant is supposed to jump over me, or I’m supposed to jump over the elephant, or the elephant is supposed to jump with me on top. But leaving that aside, even a small elephant won’t fit in the trunk of my car.