One of my favorite musicians is Gordon Lightfoot. Last Friday evening Sprite and I attended his concert at the Rose, a dinner theater in Pasadena.  I typically object to being required to arrive by 7:00 pm for a 9:00 pm concert, but I’m happy to report that both dinner and the show were excellent.  We were seated about twenty feet from the stage. I have found over the years that my enjoyment of a performance often depends on how close I am to the stage.  After all, none of us would enjoy a conversation if we were seated two hundred feet apart.

Gordon and his band appeared on schedule, and I was delighted that he performed well even though he is a year older than I am. When I was thirty I started paying attention to the age at which writers were first published.  I was happy to find that most were older than me.  At age sixty I stopped that foolish comparison.  My first book, People Tools, was published when I was seventy-four.

One benefit of aging is that you don’t care quite so much about what other people think of you. Gordon, who suffers from allergies, used nasal spray, followed by Kleenex, several times during his performance.

He shared stories from his life. Early in his career, he was hired to appear on a Square Dance show that was televised live.

“I never could learn the difference between an ‘Allemande Left’ and a ‘Dos-e-do.’  And it was a live show.”  He did not last long on that job.

Gordon also shared that Elvis Presley sang one of his songs, “Early Morning Rain,” at a concert in New York.  Gordon and his friends crossed the border from Canada to attend the concert.  They were invited to meet Elvis, but after the show it was difficult for them to make headway through the tide of people exiting.  When Gordon and his group finally arrived backstage at Elvis’s dressing room they were told the now proverbial, “Elvis has left the building.”

“I never did meet Mr. Presley,” Gordon said, a bit wistfully.

I was reminded of a charity performance I attended years ago hosted by Paul McCartney.  Major Hollywood stars, including Tom Hanks, seemed thrilled to be performing with Paul.  We all have our heroes.

Our Friday evening at the Rose included many of my Gordon Lightfoot favorites, including “Rainy Day People,” “If You Could Read My Mind,” and “Sundown,” which was his only song to reach No. 1 on Billboard’s all-genre pop chart.  The audience responded to many songs with a standing ovation.

Gordon and I and perhaps you, either now or in the future, share a fate in which our lives move from having only a few accomplishments and a dollar in our hand to a great deal more success and, hopefully, money.  But when we do it’s no longer so early in our lives.

Welcome to the fulfillment of Late Morning Rain.

Alan

It is early Sunday evening. I’m at home sitting at my desk.  My father, who will be one hundred and three years old next month, is in the hospital.  He should be released tomorrow.

That’s the who, what, and when.  But there’s always more to the story.

Last Monday night my dad couldn’t sleep because of pain in his abdomen.  On Tuesday morning he asked to be taken to the hospital. He also asked that my son Steven, who is a doctor, take care of him.  Steven left work and we all met at the emergency room at the UCLA Medical Center in the early afternoon.

The problem was an inflamed gall bladder.  The best solution was to drain the excess fluid.  I won’t go into details.  There’s a reason I refused to become a doctor despite my parents’ strong suggestion that I should.  I was squeamish.  To some extent I still am.

On Thursday, after the medical procedure, when my dad was asked to describe his level of pain he said, “ten-plus.”

Even in the best hospitals you need an advocate, someone who will stay with you to check on everything and ask for help – loudly, if necessary. At one point the doctors ordered Tylenol and additional medication for pain but the nurse told us the chart reflected an order for “Aspirin,” and to discontinue all pain medication. Someone entered the information incorrectly.  There is many a slip twixt cup and lip.

My dad’s attitude toward death is impressive.  “Every day is a bonus,” he has told me many times.  In the hospital he said, “I don’t know if living past one hundred is a reward or a punishment.” His sense of humor is always welcome.

For many years I’ve lived with the possibility of my dad’s death. But the intellectual possibility and the immediate possibility, or probability, are like the difference between fearing you will lose your job, and being summoned to your supervisor’s office at 5pm on a Friday.

Dad was supposed to go home today but the doctors said, “tomorrow.”  Dad is fully aware of his situation and is upset about having to stay another day.

I’m sure you know the moral to this story even before I get to it.

Love your parents, your children, and your friends every day, and let them know it by both your words and actions.  Tomorrow is always tomorrow, never today.

Will Dad be home tomorrow?  Certainly. But just in case, Dad, always eat your dessert first.

Love,

Alan

Puck’s famous line in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream refers to the folly of humans.  Who am I to argue with Puck?

This statement popped into my head as Howard, a close friend, described an argument with his wife Nancy.

“Nancy is just plain wrong,” he said.

“About what?”

“About everything, especially Spain.  We just came back from a trip to Barcelona and while we were unpacking she told me she had a terrible time.  She didn’t like anything about it.  I spent a lot of time planning the trip, and I thought Spain was wonderful.”

“I suppose reasonable minds can differ.”

“No.  Spain is wonderful – the people, the culture, the food.  Absolutely wonderful.  Nancy is wrong.”

“So at the end of your ‘discussion’ she agreed with you?”

“No.  Not at all.  When I left she was madder than when we started.”

“Did anyone win the argument?”

“I will.  It’s just going to take time.”

Oh, my.  Rule number one of any argument is that unless you eventually reach a win-win you will be permanently stuck in a lose-lose.

Why is this?

1. Opinions are a matter of taste. Howard might enjoy Barcelona and Nancy might hate it.  You might enjoy oysters and I might prefer steak.  There is no right and wrong here, just a difference of opinion.
2. An argument is often a battle for either supremacy or validation. The problem is that if you end up “winning,” I will probably withdraw in anger.  Of course, if you “lose” and I “win” you will probably stay angry with me.
3. Everyone is different and experiences life in their own way. I’ve seen movies that I thought should not have been made.  Several of them won an Academy Award for Best Picture.  (My favorite line from Shakespeare is in Hamlet – “There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.”)

So both parties to an argument (a fight, if you prefer) are losers unless both sides are winners.  To create a win-win I suggest:

1. What is the real issue?  In this case Howard might have wanted Nancy just to thank him for planning what he hoped would be a great trip.  He could have asked her for appreciation, or Nancy could have said, “I really appreciate all of the time and thought you put into our trip, and I’m sorry that Barcelona wasn’t my cup of tea.”
2. Decide in advance what you want. It might be as simple as sympathy.  Maybe you just want someone to listen.  Years ago Ben and I had an argument every evening as we left work.  He would complain about his problems in the office and I would offer many solutions.  Ben always disagreed with my advice. After more than a year he finally said, “Alan, I don’t want your suggestions.  I just want to complain.”  From that day on I just listened to Ben complain while I offered sympathy.  We never again disagreed.  That was a win-win.
3. Let it go. Is your need to be appreciated or to be right really that important?  If it is, just say, “I’ve had a bad day and I need your support.” If not, let it go.

As far as I know, Howard has never planned another vacation.

Life is short.  After dinner let’s each enjoy a double scoop of chocolate ice cream.  Or strawberry, if you prefer.

Alan