I’ve heard it said that just before we die we remember special moments, not the weeks or years of our lives.  When I reflect back on my own life I smile at the many examples of kindness that have come my way.  The grand gestures have an impact, but what matters most to me are those small acts of compassion.

After my brother David died of a sudden heart attack fifteen years ago, I remember a friend who sat with me for an hour in total silence.

I remember my 70^th birthday party organized by my adult children.  All I had to do was show up.

I remember the nurse who announced that the operation was a success after my three-week-old grandson had open-heart surgery more than sixteen years ago.

After I die, you might discover that I possess several items no one will have any use for and, and those items will probably be thrown out. Two objects in particular might puzzle you:  a case of Breck Shampoo, and a carton of Fuller Brush hair combs for use in the shower.  These are special to me, and I will tell you why.

When I was a teenager my mother told me that I should shower every day, but only shampoo my hair once a week.

“If you shampoo your hair too often it will dry out.”  My mom had a lot of caring and common sense in her, and I took her word for almost everything.  So I shampooed my hair once a week.

The problem was that my hair is quite oily and hard to manage.  In my twenties I discovered that I really did need to shampoo my hair every day.  I used Breck Shampoo because their bottle said on the label, “For Oily Hair.”  It worked well for me, but years ago the manufacturer went out of business.

My young wife Daveen made it her business, before the internet and eBay, to scour Los Angeles for enough Breck shampoo to last me a lifetime.  I don’t know how many cases she bought, but I still have one or two left, and I still use Breck, even though the shampoo I find in hotel rooms seems to work just as well.  I’ve moved those cases with me many times, and I suspect there will still be a few bottles of Breck left after I won’t need to use them anymore.

The Fuller Brush Story is similar.  Their salesmen used to make house calls to sell their products to my mother.  Think of that.  House calls.  One item my mom bought for me was their special pronged brush for my once-a-week shampooing.  I still like to feel the tingle on my scalp and imagine that those prongs help the blood circulate beneath my scalp.  That’s the secret to my success in thinking, (that I have now disclosed for the first time).

Alas, The Fuller Brush Company stopped making house calls.  The prongs on their brushes snap off over time, so even when I am careful a single brush has never lasted more than six months.

Enter, again, Daveen.  Somehow she located a treasure trove of those Fuller brushes, which still accompany me wherever I live.

I know this is personal, just as every life is personal.  Daveen’s mother collected matchbooks wherever she traveled to remember where she had been.  We each have unique thoughts and habits that end with us, never to return.  Each of us is special.

So for every small gesture, each small kindness, and every act that says, “Alan, I value you and here is a little help,” I offer thanks.

And my thinning white hair still looks pretty good after I shampoo it every day.

Love,

Alan

My parents were close friends with the artist, Peter Krasnow.  When I was young we often visited his studio/home on weekends.  I loved to play in his garden where he grew kale, before it was popular, and I’d “ride” on one of his statues that reminded me of a slightly unbalanced pig.

Peter died in 1979 when he was ninety-three years old.  I remember many stories about Peter. When potential art patrons visited his modest studio they often asked if he earned his living by selling his paintings and sculptures.  He would always say, “No.  I actually earn my living by running a saloon on Main Street.”

When I was 23 I wanted to buy my first house. I needed a $2,200 down payment.  My parents were on an extended tour of Europe.  Peter (remember, he was an artist – and there was no saloon) offered to loan me the money.

But my strongest memory of Peter was the time he was ill. For several months, he was unable to hold a paint brush.  After he recovered, Peter said to me, “Alan, I’m so glad I’m better because every day I can’t wait for the sun to come up so I can start to paint.”

Every year I support The Pollination Project which provides small grants to many people who help others.  In a recent letter their Executive Director, Alissa Hauser, quoted Martin Luther King:

“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve.  You don’t have to have a college degree to serve.  You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve.  You only need a heart full of grace.  A soul generated by love.”

In honor of my father who, at age 103, is still perhaps the best music teacher in the world, I recently made a significant grant to the University of Arizona.  Last Monday my dad and I spent our day visiting The Fred Fox School of Music in Tucson. While there, we met with the president of the University to discuss changes that will better serve the school’s passionate and flourishing student body. We were joined by Ed Reid, the Director of the School of Music, along with Tom Patterson, a world renowned guitar professor who has built their program over the past thirty-seven years.

Our meeting was extremely productive. All of us, notably including the President (who gives out his cell phone number to students), are focused on serving the greater good of the school.

After the meeting, we dined at an excellent Chinese restaurant. My fortune cookie said, “Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change.”  Lose?  Haha.

Win or lose, we can help others.  Every one of us can help someone else every single day.

And that is why I could hardly wait for the sun to come up this morning.

Love,

Alan

I’m writing this blog to memorialize one of the best weeks of my life.

It shouldn’t have been a good week. After a personal crisis that I won’t elaborate on, I arrived at my son Craig’s home at 8:30 am Saturday morning.

Craig and his wife welcomed me and carried all that I had brought with me up to their guest room where I settled in.  The next day my daughter Jill drove down from her home near San Jose to spend the week with me.

I am a man who likes to take care of others.  I seldom ask for help. When I do I am sometimes turned down.  Possibly because I don’t ask for help well, or maybe because some people are more used to receiving than to giving.

Craig and his wife have two young boys and they are always busy with work. Even so, Craig spent all day Saturday with me, shopping for clothes and taking care of other emergency items.  I was touched.  Throughout the week Craig and his wife spent hours talking with me. As we opened ourselves to each other, I grew to know them better than I ever have. It was a love fest.

Jill referred me to an expert who provided me with advice that was pivotal in helping me resolve my problem.  Jill also drove me to and from work all week, handling her own life from a laptop in my office.  On Friday her son flew to Los Angeles and the three of us spent the best day together I can ever remember.

During the week my office staff was extremely supportive. They went above and beyond.

Many close friends and family members called or texted me with support, and to tell me they love me.

On Saturday, Craig, his family and I, participated in the peaceful March For Our Lives demonstration in downtown Santa Monica.  I carried a sign I created myself, complete with blinking lights, that said, “POETS NOT BULLETS”.  One man offered to carry my sign for a while, many people took photos of it, and there were “thumbs up” all around.

I always want to be better tomorrow than I am today.  So what are the lessons I’ve learned?

First, when you need help ask for it.  You may be pleasantly surprised.

Second, when life serves you lemons, make lemonade.  It may sound trite, but I’ve found that when one door closes many doors open.  You only have to maintain a positive attitude and use a tiny bit of your energy to help those doors along.

Third, when I share more of myself, friends and family share more of themselves.  Life is reciprocal.  Though I’m not always responsible for what comes my way.  I’m always responsible for what I do with it.

As a result of this experience, I intend to be even more open with my family and close friends than I have been. An old Alka Seltzer commercial says, “Try it.  You’ll like it,” I agree.

Craig is very good at puns.  Last Sunday morning he said, “Today may be a sad day, but yesterday was a sadder day.”  Haha.

Here’s to the future. Here’s to asking for what you need from family and friends — and here’s to receiving it.

With love and thanks to all,

Alan