Eight of us are on a family vacation in Portugal. I’d like to say that we are “enjoying” and not just “on,” a vacation, but it’s been cold and rainy and it would be a stretch to say we’re enjoying ourselves.

Before we left, Daveen consistently checked the weather forecast for Porto and reported rain. Every day.

I’m an optimist by nature and assured her that the rainy season would probably be over by the time we arrived.  Also, I have a reputation for conjuring good weather, and the sky always brightens when I travel somewhere.  Sadly, in this case I was doubly wrong, and that doesn’t bring a smile to any of our eight faces.

Even so, I’ve made the best of it. I’ve read a few books (I highly recommend “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed) and stayed out of the rain as much as possible.  Fortunately, I brought tennis shoes, which I needed when my other shoes got soaked and took two days to dry out.

As I write this, it’s Saturday morning on the 5th day of a week-long cruise, and while most of the others are inspecting a palace and shopping in town, I’m happily dry in our stateroom on the river boat, looking forward to a modest lunch at 1:00 pm when they return.

I must also share that, unexpectedly for me, this is a wine cruise (Porto — port wine.), and I don’t drink wine. While most of our 90 or so fellow travelers are enjoying the two or three wine tastings every day, I’m teetotaling my way through the featured events. I couldn’t tell the difference between a wine’s “nose,” whatever that is, and its “tawnyness,” whatever that is, nor do I care to find out.

But I’ve enjoyed getting to know three of my grandsons better, and have taken pleasure in Daveen’s laughter whenever I offer a snarky comment about the last winery tour we suffered through.

In a few days we will leave the riverboat at 5:00 am for a 4-hour bus trip back to civilization, and two long airplane rides that will convey us to Austin, Texas where we look forward to a total solar eclipse.  No rain forecast there. Just clouds. Well, I suppose we can view the eclipse on CNN, as we did thirty-three years ago in Hawaii.

Of course, as far as I’m concerned, the best part of every trip is walking into my bedroom at home where it is always warm and never wet.

I offer a wine-less toast to our return in two weeks to sunny Southern California.

Alan

From the time I was a teenager, I knew I was meant to be a writer. But no one ever knocked on my door and asked me to write something for them, and career counselors don’t steer students into becoming writers and poets. Accounting? Yes. Law? Sure. Business? Absolutely.

I suppose it’s no small wonder that I, along with many others who were meant to be writers, followed the more traditional path into business. In retrospect, perhaps in my case I was subconsciously opting for a life without rejection. After all, nothing ventured, nothing lost.

Although, I’ve not taken a similarly cautious approach in other areas of my life. As a teenager, I researched love. After three months of haunting the library, I discovered one sentence in one book that said all I needed to know.

“If you want someone to love you, love them first.”

I’ve followed that advice in every relationship ever since and have always been the first to say “I love you.”  That has not caused any woman to run screaming into that sweet good night. In fact, quite the opposite. In my writing, however, I’ve been less forthcoming, choosing the safer path of no rejections.

During the past few weeks I’ve read several books. Most recently, Wild by Cheryl Strayed, which is deservedly a New York Times Bestseller, having sold more than four million copies.
The author writes of her adventures hiking the Pacific Coast Trail. For me, the greatest takeaway from the book was the underlying message: Do it. Stop dreaming about it, and just do it.

As Shakespeare put it, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings.”

My message to you, and to myself, is this: if you have postponed anything in your life that is important to you, stop dreaming about it and just do it.

I knew a CPA who, at age 50, quit his practice, bought a sailboat, and spent the next several years sailing around the world with his wife. He told me that after being a husband and a father, it was the best decision he ever made.

The magic is in each of us to follow our bliss, to live our lives to the fullest. But as Martha, a dear friend, wrote to me more than fifty years ago, before committing suicide at age 31, “I have for so long not been true to a self that must be somewhere, I fear that I have lost it.”

I wish I could share with Martha the words attributed to George Sands, “It is never too late to become the person you were meant to be.”

I agree. Whatever it is you feel you should be doing that you haven’t yet done, take action.

Your life is far too important to leave it to “Perchance.”

Alan

Happy Mothers’ Day to the best mother ever.  Mine.

I know that Mothers’ Day is celebrated on a Sunday in May, but since I’ve reached a certain age I give myself permission to celebrate whatever I want to and whenever I like.  I don’t need to please either my parents or an employer since Mom and Dad are no longer here, and I work for myself.

My mother was born on March 15, 1912, in a suburb of New York City. Her father was a photographer, although he seemed to prefer fishing to taking portraits.  At the age of eight my mom often filled in for him when he was away from his studio.  In his absence, she took the portrait photos herself, then later scheduled a “reshoot” with her father.

She was also many years ahead of her time. In the 1930’s, when relatively few women even attended college, she earned a master’s degree from Hunter College.  She also played the trumpet professionally in vaudeville shows with an all-woman band. I still have her silver trumpet that I treasure to this day.

Mom was determined to marry a man who, unlike her father, was strong and decisive.  In that regard she chose exceedingly well. My dad, especially in his younger years, was – and I put this politely – firm in his views.  Especially about how to raise children.  But I’ll leave that for another blog.

When I was a child, I spent each day after school in the kitchen with my mom.  I loved chatting with her as she cooked dinner and I prepared a snack for myself. Sometimes I’d help her, but often we’d just talk – from 3:30 pm until dinner was served — promptly at 5:30.  I hold happy memories of the times my mom and I shared.  I suppose that’s one reason, among many, that I love food. In fact, I like food so much that Daveen tells me she’s encouraged to eat more herself just because I enjoy my meal so much.  I say, “Why not?” – I might as well be enthusiastic about something I do every day.

So today I’m remembering you, Mom, and your support and nurturing as well as our many outings to the Los Angeles Zoo.  Now that my daughter and 2-year-old granddaughter are living with us I can better appreciate the constant hard work and responsibility of parenting.

To my readers — if you would like to celebrate someone or something special today, for any reason, be my guest.  Today is a great day to rejoice in an event of your own making.

Alan