When I was a student at USC our major crosstown rival was UCLA. During the week before the annual UCLA-USC football game the two schools often played pranks on each other.

I remember one in particular. USC somehow managed to hijack the entire print edition of the UCLA campus newspaper, The Daily Bruin, and substitute an issue filled with fabricated articles. The lead story was a fictional interview with the UCLA Chancellor, who was quoted as saying, “I don’t know how we can possibly beat USC this year.  They’re too good.”  Also, “Our campus is so large you never meet anyone for a second time, and you’re lucky if you meet them in the first place.”

That’s exactly how I feel about Daveen – I’m lucky to have met her in the first place. And, I’m very grateful for the fortuitous turns in my life that led to such a happy outcome.  Here’s how it happened.

When I was in my twenties I decided, for the first and only time in my life, to volunteer as a judge at the California High School National Forensic League State Tournament. I judged the final round of oratory and was impressed by Glen, who won the event and qualified for the National tournament in Washington, D.C. As a gesture of support, I offered to help Glen pay for his trip.

Several months later, through Glen, I met Jim, who was working on a novel and needed to earn some money while finishing his manuscript. I hired Jim as a “secret shopper” for the apartment buildings I was managing at the time.  We have been close friends ever since.

Years later, Jim began to collect rare books, which piqued my interest, so I started to buy rare books as well.

One day at the Heritage Book Shop I noticed Daveen out of the corner of my eye.  She was their bookkeeper.  I discretely waited until both Heritage partners were out of town before I asked her to lunch.

Three and a half years later we were married.

Other than family, we meet the most important people in our lives – great teachers, close friends, or spouses – entirely by chance.  And as the UCLA Chancellor said (or didn’t say) I was lucky to have met Daveen in the first place, especially since she graduated from UCLA and I graduated from USC.

More than forty years later I still consider myself fortunate to be sharing my days and nights with her.

Alan

P.S.  UCLA retaliated for the hijacked Daily Bruin by dumping a helicopter load of cow s*** on top of the revered Tommy Trojan statue at the center of the USC campus.  I don’t recall which team won the football game that year.

Since I usually write my weekly blog on Sunday, which was yesterday, I told Daveen last night that it was already “too late” to write my blog early.  She laughed, which was nice. I always love to hear Daveen laugh.

This morning, faced with an imminent deadline, I decided to write about the galvanizing power of deadlines, something, that certainly applies to me.  I checked my previous blogs and was not entirely surprised to find that I have written about that before.

My mind immediately turned to possible alternatives.  In other words, Plan B.  Here are a few of the possibilities, (together with my comments).

1. Skip the blog for this week. (Unthinkable.  I’ve written a weekly blog for eight years, and do not intend to miss one.)
2. Write another blog about deadlines, but with a different twist. (I’m not excited about plowing the same field yet again.  I like to believe I’m more creative than that.  Also, as Robert Frost wrote, “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.)
3. Consult my list of potential blog topics. (The inspiration is often more difficult than the actual writing.  That’s why, whenever I have an idea, I write it down.  I have accumulated a list of more than 300, but I prefer to challenge myself to come up with something new.)
4. Write a “spin off” from my other blogs about deadlines. What do I do when my first plan to meet a deadline doesn’t work?  (Aha!  Plan B.)

So here we are.  In the middle of Plan B.

There are three reasons I seldom develop a formal Plan B.  First, I don’t want to waste my time planning an unnecessary alternative.  Second, I always expect Plan A to work.  Third, I have confidence that I can come up with Plan B if and when I really need to.

Of course, I only make plans when I’m faced with a deadline, so I guess this blog is really about deadlines after all.  Just now I bought tickets for a play that will be performed in three weeks.  The theater was already almost sold out.  Even though I might think I’m the most important person in the world, theaters and airlines never seem to agree.  They just sell tickets to the first buyer to come along.

And I prefer plans (and blogs) that are simple and short.

Enough said.

Alan

Many of my friends say their best ideas flow when they’re in the shower.  My best ideas drift by just as I’m falling asleep.  But they evaporate within thirty seconds unless I write them down.

In the light of morning I often find that I either don’t understand the thought, or that it wasn’t very good after all.

“A Barrier of Mist” was one of those ideas last night, and this morning I still understand and like it.

Physical barriers are easy to discern.  We all know a concrete wall when we hit one.  Intangible barriers, such as time, space, and thought, however, are just as real.  They are not as visible, but they are often even more impactful. Collectively, I think of these as “A Barrier of Mist.”

For this blog I’ll focus on one – the barrier of thought.

This morning as Daveen and I were getting dressed she asked, “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” I said.

“Okay.”

I’m glad she asked.  Obviously, outside of my own awareness, I must have appeared annoyed. That’s why Daveen asked.  How could she possibly know what I was actually feeling?  The best way to find out is simply to ask.

Was I truthful?  How could she know for sure?  One facet of human behavior is that we aren’t always truthful.  We even honor those who effectively misrepresent themselves.  We call them Academy Award winning actors.  In the 1982 film, the actor Ben Kingsley was not really Mahatma Gandhi.

Long ago I decided that I would always choose to believe a person when they shared their thoughts or feelings.  After all, each of us is the only expert in the entire world who knows what we are really feeling and thinking in the moment. If you misrepresented yourself, I’m not responsible.  And your guess is certainly better than mine.

I was once in the car as a friend was driving his son to the emergency room. His son was crying and seemed to be in a lot of pain.

“You don’t feel bad,” he said to his son.  “Stop crying.”

Really? Telling a crying child that he isn’t in pain is, at best, confusing.  At worst it’s telling him to hide, or mistrust, his own feelings.

Our communication of thoughts and feelings is inevitably incomplete.  We simply don’t have the time to tell others everything we’re thinking or feeling. And sometimes we don’t have the ability.  Perhaps we lack the right words. Or we might have insufficient insight into our own emotions. Or we might be embarrassed.  Nonetheless, when you tell me how you are feeling I trust you.

Right now I’m feeling cheerful, having completed this week’s blog.

You can believe me on this.

Alan