When I was growing up I was afraid of policemen.  As far as I was concerned they were only there to give people traffic tickets.  Actually, I found many adults scary back then.  Parents, teachers, school principals – they had the power, they knew it, and many of them used it.

During the past few years I’ve discovered the small town of Kihei on the Hawaiian Island of Maui.  I recently spent a week there with my daughter and her family.  They rented snorkeling equipment for the week. “The snorkeling is great,” my daughter said.  “There’s a cove right off the beach, with a reef and schools of colorful fish.  The crowds don’t arrive until after nine.”

So one morning, I put on my sunscreen and bathing trunks, and drove to the beach with my granddaughter and her boyfriend Matt. We arrived at 8:00 am.

I had no idea how to climb down to the beach from the parking lot, so I followed their lead.  After a few false starts, Matt opened an old gate near the lifeguard station, and we were on our way. They are in their early twenties. I’m in my late seventies. I didn’t want to hold them back, so I told them, “You go on ahead. I’ll take my time.”

Soon, they were frolicking on the beach while I was still carefully picking my way down a path that was rocky and steep in places.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Are you trying to use this path to get down to the beach?”

Oops.  It was the lifeguard who had spotted me and climbed down from his shack.  I was busted.

“Yes.  I’m just trying to get down to the beach.”  I pointed toward my granddaughter and Matt, expecting a reprimand for trespassing.

He extended his hand.  “Here, let me help you.”

I was stunned.  I was already in the middle of preparing my excuse and apology for using the wrong path.  And where was the sign, anyway?

But the lifeguard wasn’t carrying a pad of traffic tickets.  He just wanted to help me.  He wasn’t being mean.  He was being nice.

He assisted me over the final long three or four steps to the beach.

His kindness made my day.  I think we’re here to help each other, and this was a wonderful example.

The next time I visit Maui, snorkeling will be high on my list.  But next time I’ll use the regular steps to the beach.

Alan

They are usually stuck together.

If you smiled you can give me credit for quoting the comedian George Carlin.  If not, then I guess he wasn’t very funny.

I was reminded of Carlin’s ironic observation in a roundabout way.

Earlier this year there was unexpected turmoil in my life.  As a result I spent a week living with my son Craig and his family, and several months living at my Dad’s house.  Both were new experiences for me – and quite positive.

At Craig’s I enjoyed our late night conversations. I was especially thankful for his family’s hospitality and for their helping me to feel at home

At my dad’s I was also well taken care of. One memory stands out — my encounters with the neighbor across the street.  We often left for work or arrived home at the same time, and whenever he saw me he always offered a cheerful “hi”.  I felt I was a part of a community, rather than apart from the community.  For me this too was a new experience.

It was this play on words – “a part” and “apart” – that reminded me of the George Carlin quote.  Most of us live as a part of a community, yet we often live apart from that same community.  Apparently we need to feel both separate and connected.

Today is Christmas – a day when many families are together.  But many of us feel apart even when surrounded by friends and family.

So this holiday season ask not what your friends and family can do for you.  Instead offer everyone a cheerful “hi,” then listen to their dreams, their hopes, and their stories.  And in the words of Shannon L. Adler, “Pour God’s love out of you in pitcher fulls, not thimbles.”

I appreciate your reading my blog this year.

Love,

Alan

Is the glass half full or half empty?  That is the proverbial question.

My dad raised me to be a contrary thinker.  When the stock market has been going up for three or four years he’ll say, “Be careful.  Nothing goes up forever.”  This is why, for me, the glass is not half full.  But it’s not half empty either.  It’s just a symbol.  There is no real glass.  Your perceptions are in your mind, not in the glass.

This brings me to my favorite quotation which is from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.  “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

The glass itself is not good or bad. What’s in it is neither good nor bad.  Nor is the fullness of the glass good or bad.  It merely is what it is.

So why do we talk about a glass as “half full” or “half empty”?  Because we believe that if we are optimistic (and perceive the glass to be half full) we will get more of what we want, and if we are pessimistic (and see the glass as half empty) we will get less of what we want.

I agree with both. Why not? And if our perceptions can influence a potential result then we should choose to be optimistic. I still remember Herman, a friend in high school, who said to a female classmate, “I don’t suppose you’d like to go out with me.”  Talk about a negative self-fulfilling prophecy! Needless to say, he got no date.

I follow another adage in my life.  “Expect the best, but plan for the worst.”  By doing that my outlook and expectations are positive, and I feel positive about the future.  But if something goes wrong I’ll be ready.

One of my own business sayings is, “Avoid disasters.” If you see an iceberg on the horizon you need to be ready to change the course of the ship. I believe you can remain optimistic and still course correct as needed.

Enjoy the coming holiday season, but remember things go better when you make plans.  It won’t always “just happen”.

I’m planning to fill my glass with eggnog.

Alan