What was your best Christmas present ever?

For me there is one answer – my Lionel electric train set that my parents (actually, I think my father) gave me when I was six or seven.

It was a basic set with a single oval track, one engine, and a few cars.  Maybe this was a birthday present, or maybe it was for both Christmas and my birthday because when I was young the price limit on any present in my home was one dollar.  Even in 1946 an electric train set must have cost more than that.  I Googled it and a new starter set today costs over one hundred dollars.

That electric train, now lost to the junk yard of history but not to my memory, was the best Christmas present I ever received even though it was just a basic set.  I loved playing with it in my bedroom for years. I would move the throttle knob on the transformer and my train would race around the track. I could make the engine move slower or faster without even touching it.  If it was going too fast the train would fall off the track when rounding a curve. My fascination may have been rooted in wanderlust but it was also my first experience at controlling something from a distance.

Times have changed.  So have I. Today, with the internet of electronics, I can turn lights on or a thermostat up to warm my home from an airplane a thousand miles away. Even so, the magic of that train set has never left me.

Sprite remembers her best Christmas present was a frying pan that her brother gave her after she moved away to college.  She thought the gift odd when she opened the package, but now says it was the most useful gift she ever received. I can personally attest to that.  With only a frying pan Sprite can create a charming meal out of almost anything.

Sprite also remembers the string of bubble gum under the tree when she was allowed by her parents to open a single present before Christmas.  Sprite and her sisters delighted in chewing all of that gum for days.  And her gift cost less than one dollar at the time.

As you think about your own Christmas shopping this year you might take a moment to remember the present that was the best you ever received.  I’m thinking it wasn’t the most expensive.  I’m thinking it was the most thoughtful, or heartfelt, and that is what made it the best.

Today, at the end of a meeting, a friend read a benediction she wrote. Her words were wise and touching. I asked her to send me a copy, and next week that will be my Christmas present to you.

Meanwhile, tomorrow morning I’m going out to buy an electric train set for my two grandsons, ages three and six.  I know the electric train will compete with all kinds of electronic gadgets and, perhaps, even bubble gum, but I’m going to give it a try, for old time’s sake.

I wish everyone an early, thoughtful Christmas, especially to my dad, now age 102.  Thanks again, Dad, for the Lionel electric train. Almost seventy-five years later it’s still my best Christmas present ever.

Alan

I have spent the past two days doing nothing.  That is, I didn’t do anything I was supposed to do.  On Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, I didn’t even take a shower.

Why would I write about doing nothing?  Because, for me, this is extraordinary. I was introduced to my fiancé, Sprite, by a mutual friend. He told her, “Every move Alan makes has a purpose.” I agree with him.

I grew up with many fixed ideas.  Some of those ideas, such as “you must save money each year”, have turned out to be helpful.  Others, such as “people who exercise aren’t very smart”, have turned out to be horribly mistaken.  Not only mistaken, but unhealthy and against my own self-interest.  I did not exercise on a regular basis until I was sixty years old.  I was severely overweight until I was seventy-three.  My good health is more a matter of good genes and good luck than good habits and brushing my teeth three times a day.

Another one of my youthful ideas, which I continue to live by to this day, is that at every moment I must be working toward one or more of my goals.  Saving money, building a business, improving a relationship – all are targets that I consciously aim for every day of my life.

When my partner George and I founded our law firm we worked twenty-two days straight for twelve hours a day.  After two years I justified one short vacation by telling myself I was actually clearing my mind so I could be more effective at work.

Even now I want to give you reasons – I might, more accurately, say “excuses” – for my two straight days of lying around.

First, I had laryngitis last Thursday and I could hardly carry on a conversation with our guests at our Thanksgiving party.  I strained my voice and set aside Friday and Saturday to recover so I could be ready for work on Monday.

Second, I was setting an example for my fiancé, who is always working toward her own goals and seldom rests.

Third . . . well, even those two reasons are a stretch, but the third is simply that I felt like staying in bed, reading, watching TV, and being pampered.  Two full days in our bedroom just relaxing – I mean, recovering.  What could be more fun?  I mean, what could be more useful?  And Sprite didn’t really have to cook.  She only had to walk down to our kitchen, warm up Thanksgiving leftovers, and carry them back up to our bedroom.

It seems like another of my deep-seated rules for myself is that I have to justify every moment of my life.  To you?  Yes.  To myself?  Absolutely.

Penitentiaries can be less obvious than Alcatraz or San Quentin.  The bars of our individual prisons are the rigid ideas we live by.  These bars are both invisible and fixed.  They keep us working or refusing to work, eating, or not eating certain foods, every day of our lives.  My question is:  which of your own iron rules do you want to continue crouching behind, and which might you want to soften or remove?

But now it’s Sunday and I’m back in my comfortable self-chosen cell, working on this blog and answering last week’s emails.

In half an hour I have an appointment, so it’s back to work as usual for me. I hope all of you had a lovely Thanksgiving and that you too found some time to do nothing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Alan

“I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
“And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
“And in short, I was afraid.” – T.S. Eliot The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

We live in a scary world.  You can die at any moment in an auto accident or from a heart attack. A friend of mine died two days after she fell and hit her head on the kitchen floor.

But death isn’t all we’re afraid of.  Many of us have fears about money or relationships, and all who are parents fear for the safety of their children.

Some of our fears are rational and demand we take precautions.  Every time someone leaves my house I remind them to drive carefully.

Many of our fears, however, are not based on logic.  My cousin Helen is afraid to fly.  She’s missed many family events because she refuses to board an airplane, despite the fact that since 2001 there have been only two deaths in the United States involving a major airline.  My cousin is delighted, however, to drive daily, even though riding in a car is far more dangerous than riding in an airplane.

Last week I attended a conference at Stanford University.  The keynote speaker was the photographer Platon.  He asked the question, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

This is not an easy question for me to answer.  Maybe I’m afraid I might discover something really scary, but I’ll give it a try.

1. I’m uncomfortable with “small talk.” It feels like a waste of time and I don’t think I’m good at it.  If I wasn’t afraid, I would initiate conversations that are serious and personal so I could connect with people on a deeper and more meaningful level.
2. I would work fewer hours at my office. I’m afraid that if I don’t work long hours everything here will go to you-know-where in the proverbial handbasket. (I have an excellent staff, and I’m not saying that my fear is rational.)
3. I would write a lot more than just my blog every week, but I’m afraid my further writing might fail to achieve the depth and wisdom I strive for.
4. I would read much more if I weren’t afraid of falling short on accomplishing a lot each day.

These are some of my bigger fears, but in thinking about what I’m afraid of I also realize that I’ve been the most successful in areas where I’m not afraid.  I’ve never been afraid of money, and I’ve done well in that area.  I’ve had many relationships and have learned to maintain only those which work for me, even though it’s painful to reject or be rejected.  I’ve also learned to be open and vulnerable and set aside my fear of being hurt.  I find that the more I put into a relationship the more I get out of it.

But, alas, not being afraid is easier said than done.  Platon’s keynote address was outstanding and I knew he deserved a standing ovation.  When he finished his speech I applauded with enthusiasm.  Yet before leaping to my feet I peeked around the room.  No one was standing.  I didn’t want be seen as a fool and I remained in my seat.

Yes, T.S., Eliot, “And in short, I was afraid.”

What would we all do if we weren’t afraid?  That’s easy.  We would live more truthful, eloquent, and fulfilling lives.

Alan