Last Sunday afternoon I enjoyed five hours with my family and friends at the Magic Castle in Hollywood.  Though I have visited the Magic Castle many times since it opened in 1963, last Sunday’s visit was special.  First, because we had two young children with us, enjoying magic for the very first time, and second because on weekends the “junior” magicians perform live in the three Magic Castle theaters.

On the “Close Up” stage a seventeen year old entertained us with his excellent (though not yet perfect) sleight-of-hand card and coin tricks.  I am always “fooled” by magic, and I hope to will always retain my sense of wonder.

This morning I read an obituary for Ricky Jay, a well-known magician who had frequently performed at the Magic Castle. One of Jay’s mentors was the famous magician Charlie Miller, who died in 1989 at the age of eighty.  Jay was quoted as saying, “Charlie was always trying to learn and refine and invent.  I don’t think he ever stopped thinking about it.  I think when Charlie finally died, he had the most famous classic 19^th century magic text on his night table.”

I call that dedication.  I also call it commitment. Charlie was committed to investing in himself.

During my business career I have invested in many other businesses.  At least eighty percent of those investments totally failed.  The last significant investment I made was more than ten years ago, and after (unexpectedly) investing more than four hundred hours of my own time, in addition to a substantial amount of money, I finally received my money back, together with a small profit.  But I will never recover the lost hours of my life.

My best investments have not been in dollars.  My best investments have been in my education in Accounting, Law, Psychology, and Professional Writing, in my business experience, and in time spent with my family both at home and traveling.

Vince Lombardi, one of the most successful football coaches ever, said, ”The quality of a person’s life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor.”

I always want to perform better today than I did yesterday, and better tomorrow than today.  That is why every day I aim to learn more about myself and the world we live in.

Money is great.  The value of my time and life is greater.

I can sum up my thought in one short sentence.

Invest in yourself – it’s magic.

Alan

My mother and my father were both professional musicians.  In fact, they met as teenagers in an all-star high school orchestra. My mother played the trumpet and flute, my father the French horn. As you might expect, as a child I was encouraged (I might say required) to learn to play both piano and French horn.

At thirteen, my parents signed me up to study composing with Joseph Oroop, a passionate man with an unusual name.

The best part of the lesson was the streetcar ride to and from Mr. Oroop’s home.

One day Mr. Oroop questioned my participation.

“Mr. Fox,” he said, a bit formally.  “I would like to know something.  You have taken harmony lessons from me for three months.  My other students are either very enthusiastic and bring me their own compositions, or they drop out.  You are a mystery.  Each week I give you an assignment, you go home, you work on the assignment, and you bring it back.  But so far you haven’t gotten excited and started to compose any additional work, and you haven’t dropped out.  What’s going on with you?”

I was surprised, but thought he asked a very good question.  I considered it for a week, and at my next lesson told Mr. Oroop that I was dropping out.

While I would have liked to become a brilliant composer (or a brilliant anything for that matter), I lacked both enthusiasm and any great ability for composing music.  But I did learn an important lesson from Mr. Oroop. It’s not enough to simply go through the motions.  It’s important for each of us to figure out what we like to do and what we have an aptitude for.  Hopefully, we can match the two.

Of course, I often have to learn the same lesson more than once before it sticks.

Toward the end of my first year of law school Professor Richard Wicks, who taught contract law, called me into his office.

He was not as formal as Mr. Oroop, but delivered a similar message.  “Alan, you’ve been in my class for almost two semesters.  You are always prepared, you answer my questions when I call on you, but you certainly aren’t working up to your ability.  You’re not enthusiastic.  I encourage you to get more involved and start enjoying the study of law.”

I didn’t drop out of law school, but I also did not become more enthusiastic.  Perhaps I should have, at that time, worked more diligently to follow my passion to become a writer.  I did that twenty-five years later.

The title of this blog is ripples.  Like a stone dropping into a pond, each of us causes ripples, for better or for worse, in the lives of those we know.  And often we never find out the effect that we have had.

There are many ripples in the lake of my life, and I give thanks to Mr. Oroop and Professor Wicks for taking the time to notice me, and caring enough to help me find my calling.  I hope to pay it forward by helping others to do the same.

Alan

Santa Ana winds.  Wildfires in Southern California.  Mandatory evacuation of the entire city of Malibu.  A 7:30 am phone call from my son on Saturday morning.

“We are evacuating now, and we’ll be at your house as soon as we can get there.”

This was how I found out about the Woolsey fire last Saturday. In less than three days, it has burned more than a hundred square miles and destroyed more than one hundred and fifty homes.

Four hours after his phone call my son, his wife, their three young sons, and a barking Portuguese Waterdog arrived at my home.

“We may have gotten rid of our ant problem,” my son said.  “A number of houses in our neighborhood burned to the ground.  Our house is almost certainly one of them.”

“Oh, no.”  I began to think about the implications.  How would they all cope with the loss of their home?

Fast forward to Saturday evening. My son delivered the news.

“One of our neighbors stayed to protect his house.  He just told me that our house is still standing.”

What a day!

I thought about a psychology exercise I had learned while I was studying for a graduate degree in Counselor Education.

The instructor told us to write down ten of the people or things we loved most in our lives.  I don’t remember my list, but I’m sure it included the people who were important to me – my wife, three children, parents, and brother.  It probably did not include many, if any, physical things because I decided when I was young that I would reserve my emotional energy for the people in my life, not things.  After all, things can be repaired or replaced.  People cannot.

“Look at your list, and imagine the tenth item leaving your life,” the instructor said.

I did.  I felt a little sad.

“Now go to number nine, then number eight, and imagine those people or items leaving your life, one at a time.  We’ll take a few minutes for this.”

Ten minutes later there were many distressed students in the classroom, including me.  Even though this was only an exercise of the imagination, I felt devastated.

“Now close your eyes for a few minutes to fully experience what you have lost.”

After a painful five-minutes, the professor continued, “Now start with the tenth item on your list and imagine it coming back to you.  Then go on to each of the others until all ten are back in your life.”

When number one on my list returned to my life I was smiling broadly.  All ten had returned and I was absolutely thrilled.

Yet, what had happened?  In reality, nothing.  There was no objective change in my life.  But my subjective change was monumental.  I felt an attitude of enormous gratitude.  This was a memorable lesson for me.

Many recent studies have shown that we can create happiness in our own lives by feeling gratitude, or by helping another person.

My father, a vigorous 104 years old, tells me that at the end of each day he says, to no one in particular, “Thanks for another beautiful day.”

It’s all a matter of your attitude.

But it looks like my son and his family still face an ant problem when they return to their home.

Alan