Dear Mom,

It occurred to me this morning that I haven’t given you an update on my life since you died in 1990.  Thirty years is a long time – almost forty percent of my life.  I’m pleased to say that there are many wonderful updates to share with you. And since you always focused on the positive, I won’t burden you with bad news (and there isn’t much of that anyway).

I’m now almost eighty years old, still working at my real estate company and still with Daveen.  We’ve now been together for over forty years, though we did separate for a short time.  I had neck surgery last May, and I’m still recovering. You’ll be happy to hear that for the first time in my life I’m exercising and walking regularly.  That’s a big change for the better.

My children, your grandchildren, are all doing well. Every one of them has grown up to be someone you would be extremely proud of. They include a professor at UCLA, a professor at USC, an attorney, a yoga teacher, and a writer.  The youngest, who you last knew when she was three years old, is now 32 and studying diligently for a Master’s degree in psychology.  Your oldest great-grandchild, is now a doctor.  She was the top student in her graduating class from medical school.  I think you’d be so pleased with the accomplishments of all of your progeny.  I know I am.

I want to thank you for the gift of teaching me good habits.  The most helpful one is to have a constructive state of mind. You almost always seemed happy and willing to be helpful. Clearly I was Influenced by your example. Like you, I try to find the best in any situation and I like to help others.

I increasingly realize the benefit of what I learned from you.  I enjoy shopping for groceries and I like to cook.  This is a good thing, because Daveen does not like to do either.  She prefers to clean up, which I have always hated.  As you said, Daveen and I are a match made in heaven.

There are still some areas in which I don’t comply with your rules. I still sometimes stay up too late, but no one, including me, is perfect.  (This is a rationalization that I learned about in Psychology 101 in college.)

Have I finally learned to put my laundry in a hamper instead of on the floor?  Absolutely.  Every day.  Do I keep my part of the bathroom counter organized?  Well, not exactly.  Like you, I hate to throw anything out.  I might need it someday (if I can find it).  Fortunately, the style today is to have two sinks in a master bathroom, so Daveen and I don’t overlap.

Thanks for all the time we spent together when I was young, talking while you prepared dinner.  Those were some of the best conversations of my life.  Thanks also for taking David and me on excursions — museums, the planetarium, and the zoo.  We enjoyed every outing and learned so much.

And thank you for loving me without condition or criticism.  That’s an environment I continue to try to recreate.  Your unconditional love permeated the life of everyone who knew you, and continues to fill mine.

Love,

Alan

As a kid I loved to read science fiction. Many of those stories provided important and lasting lessons, some of which have stuck with me for more than sixty years.

In one story the hero wished to live his life as a movie highlight reel without the boring interludes.  His wish was granted but, sure enough, while his life moved from highlight to highlight he missed everything else.

He got the girl, but in those days movies were heavily censored, so when the bedroom door closed there was a quick cut to the next highlight.  The rest of his entire life was G rated and ran for only ninety minutes.

My wife and I, together with one of our daughters and two of our adult grandchildren, enjoyed a quiet New Year’s Eve dinner at home, sharing our favorite memories of the past year.  Mine was January 12, 2019, when Daveen and I moved back in together. (I got immediate credit for being romantic.)

The next three evenings of the New Year the five of us watched three of my favorite movies, which were:

Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, My Cousin Vinnie with Danny DeVito and Marisa Tomei, and The Last Samurai with Tom Cruise and Ken Watanabe.  We enjoyed three warm and wonderful family evenings in a row.

I have seen each film many times, but as we savored them again I was surprised by a number of important scenes I hadn’t remembered.  Yet each of those scenes brought additional emotional resonance to the movie.

I tend to live my life fast – one and done.  Get it over and move on.  But here at the beginning of a new decade I enjoyed not only the highlights, but also the depth of every moment spent with my loved ones.

Daveen and I took a walk around the neighborhood each day.  I was surprised and delighted to walk past the same trees and houses, each time absorbing more details.

The highlights of our lives are brief.  Depth takes time and repetition.

Highlights are memorable, but most of our lives are spent with mundane activities such as watching a movie, or preparing a meal.  The journey takes far longer than the moment of leaving or the moment of arrival,

In 2020 let’s all slow down a bit and relish each moment.  As Simon and Garfunkel put it:

“Slow down, you move too fast, gotta make the morning last . . .”

It’s not the births, marriages, and deaths that fill our lives.  It’s everything we enjoy in between those annual New Year’s Eves and birthdays that counts.

Happy New Moment.

Alan