The most important lesson I learned in high school was not from my classmates or from a lesson plan. (I’ve shared an earlier version of this story with you before, but find it worth repeating and remembering.)

I enrolled in high school Latin because I thought it was a pre-requisite for law school.  That turned out to be wrong, and I should have taken something more practical – like Spanish. But at least I can now distinguish my sine qua nons from my quid pro quos.

In Latin class I sat behind Pete Lipmann, who was the only member of my high school class to attend Cal Tech, one of the most difficult colleges to get into in the United States.

Our Latin teacher was Mrs. Agulia.  She had won a big grant to study in Rome and, in addition to Latin, she taught us a lot about the ancient city. Also, as it turns out, she taught me an important lesson, in English, about dealing with other people.

When our final exams were returned, Pete had received a “B+,” while I had received an “A-.”  Both Pete and I were hovering between a final grade of an “A” or a “B” in the class.

I was not known either for my diplomacy or my discretion in those days. When I saw our respective grades from the final exam, I blurted out in front of the entire class, “Mrs. Agulia. This is great.  Now if you give Pete an “A”, you’ll have to give me one.”  Perhaps I was upset, believing she liked Pete better than she liked me.  If she did, I’m sure I gave her reasons.

Mrs. Agulia was less than 5 feet tall, but commanded the room with her eyes.  She stared directly back at me.

“Alan – I don’t have to do anything.”

Then there was silence.

The following week we received our report cards.  Pete received an “A.”  I received a “B.”

Touché!

Even today this memory from more than sixty years ago reminds me that a sense of entitlement never got me very far in life. Since then I have learned that a sincere appreciation for others, expressed with kindness, not only feels better, but also yields a more positive result for everyone.

To Mrs. Agulia, wherever you are, I again thank you.

Alan

“Did you miss me?”

This is a standard greeting between friends who haven’t seen each other for a while.  The expected reply is – “Yes, of course I did.”

But there is always a question in my mind.  Should I be rote, or should I be real?  Or something in between that we call “polite”?

I used to have an internal debate about this, because I knew what was expected, but I also knew that, personally.  I seldom miss people when I’m not with them.  I tend, instead, to focus on the people I’m with in the moment.  That makes perfect sense to me.  As I have written in the past, I’m pragmatic.  If I wake up at 5:30 am worrying about something I can’t do anything about, I simply go back to sleep.

Today when asked “Do you miss me,” I like to offer a different, but truthful, response.  Something like, “I’m delighted to see you.”

A few people might press the point.  “Yes, but did you miss me?”

Darn! So much for being polite.

My short answer is something like this: “I always enjoy seeing you, but when we’re apart I hope you are enjoying yourself, either with someone else or by yourself, just like I am.”  I don’t really think about what others might be doing or, who they’re with, when we’re apart.

I know there are those who yearn in the absence of a loved one.  But I think it is both generous and self-serving to give them well wishes in your absence, and to assume they reciprocate.  All of us should enjoy our lives to the fullest all of the time.

Perhaps that is more than you wanted to know.  Or do you live your life like I do, trying to maximize each moment?

I also reserve my emotional energy for people, not things.  I love my friends and family.  While I like my home and car, they can be repaired or replaced.  People cannot.  So I seldom say that I love a “thing”.

I spend my emotional energy on those I’m with, including my readers with whom I’m delighted to share my blog.  I hope you have a wonderful week… and that you won’t miss me.  At least, not until next Tuesday morning.

Love,

Alan

Yesterday evening I watched the final college football game of the season, with Alabama and Georgia contending for the national NCAA championship.

Next weekend the National Football League has scheduled six playoff games, all at different times.  After many years they finally figured out that their product attracts more eyeballs when they spread the games out over three days.  That suits me fine.  I plan to watch them all.

My problem is not this week, but the week following February 13th.  That is the day of the Super Bowl, and by 7:00 pm in Los Angeles that game will be over, and with it football — finished until August.  What am I going to do for entertainment during the spring and summer?  I find baseball boring, and the Los Angeles Lakers are having a mediocre season.

I’d like to say that I’ll turn to writing, but I have made that promise to myself many times before.  I write this blog every week because I have a deadline and I am motivated by deadlines.

I am likely, instead, to turn to my entertainment of last resort – reading books.  My biggest challenge with reading, however, is that I can’t do anything else at the same time.  I have to pay complete attention to the book.  By contrast, when I watch (or half-watch) football, I can play a game of solitaire on my iPhone or have a conversation with Daveen.  But reading a book is like driving a car.  When I’m the driver I have to pay full attention. Fortunately, Daveen loves to drive, and when I’m a passenger I can allow myself the luxury of distraction.

I always look on the bright side.  Thanks to COVID-19 we‘ve had an unusual opportunity.  Our typical entertainments – parties, eating in restaurants, or seeing movies in theaters – are mostly off the table (pun intended) for a while.  So each of us gets to fill in the blank spaces of our lives in a different way.

Most of us are resilient. If something (such as COVID-19) is inevitable, we can embrace it, or in this case, embrace avoiding it.

It has been an opportunity, if not to get to know each other better, to at least get to know ourselves better.

And oh, the stories that will be told about the Plague of 2020-2022.  But if this is a once in a hundred year experience, I’m glad I won’t be around for the next one.

Alan