My mother and father were both professional musicians when they met in the early 1930’s. My mother played the trumpet, my father the French horn. This meant:

1. I was required to learn how to play both the piano and the French horn.
2. I had to be “quiet” at home when my dad was conducting French horn lessons.
3. I was severely discouraged from becoming a professional musician. “That’s not the best way for you to earn a living,” Dad said many times.

When Dad walked by as I practiced the piano, he often tapped me on the shoulder to remind me to color each phrase.  “Each phrase is like a sentence.  Each note, like each word, has to carry its own weight.  It has to be interesting.  Pay attention to each note,” he said.

And here I am, more than seventy years later, still applying that lesson.  I pay attention to every word–a habit that was first a cobweb, then a cord, and finally a cable.

Actually, I think Dad was talking about variety.  I would be bored listening to a newscaster delivering word after word in a monotone.  At the grocery store I fill my cart with many different foods.  And while I might be interested in a sequel, I seldom watch the same movie more than once.

We all need structure in our lives.  At home I like the reassurance of having everything in its place (provided I can remember where that place is).  But I also enjoy the thrill of discovery, which is why I choose a different topic for my blog each week.

The known vs. the unknown.  We all seemed to bounce between the security of the familiar and the excitement of the fresh, something like a two-year-old running out to discover something new, then returning to the security of Mom’s arms.

I think that we can all live a fuller life when we “color each phrase,” paying attention to each moment, and making it interesting.

I wish you a day filled with color.

Alan

The infamous Hatfield-McCoy feud of the 19^th century was rivaled in my lifetime by the 20^th century Fox-Blakeslee feud.  The Blakeslees were our next door neighbors.

I was almost three years old when my brother David was born. My dad asked Mrs. Blakeslee next door to “watch me” while he drove my mother to the hospital to give birth.  For whatever reason, she refused.

Dad was angry, and he held onto his anger.  From that day on he refused to speak to or acknowledge the Blakeslees in any way, and that lasted throughout my entire childhood.

I’ve heard it said that holding on to anger is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.  I agree, and that’s reason enough to release anger.

The nearest I’ve come to a personal feud was about eight years ago when I sent out an email to everyone on my mailing list, inviting them to receive to my weekly blog.  Almost everyone accepted, and I thank all of you.

Two people, however, not only declined my invitation, but also sent me a nasty note in response.  One was my former law partner and the other my former college debate partner.  I couldn’t make this up.

I learned long ago that it’s okay to ask.  And it’s also okay to say “no.”  While I was surprised by their hostility, I just followed their lead, and deleted their email addresses permanently. I won’t be sending them any further invitations.

Happily, Dad did change. I was a teenager by then, but I still remember the eventful evening.  Everyone in the neighborhood was out in the street watching a total eclipse of the moon.  Maybe that had put Dad in a forgiving mood.  Or maybe thirteen years had been long enough for him to boil.  He actually said “hello” to Mrs. Blakeslee, and Voila! – just like that – the feud was over.

There already aren’t enough hours in my life to complete my “bucket list,” and I refuse to waste any time and emotional energy by carrying around a grudge.

I simply smile, enjoy my life, and wish everyone well.

Alan

We all know the saying, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”  My friends in medical research tell me they don’t know of any studies to support this aphorism, but I guess it helps to sell apples. Prunes, on the other hand, have been touted as beneficial in numerous medical studies, but even so – they can’t shake their reputation.  Maybe if prunes had a similar saying they would be more popular.

During the past three days I’ve eaten three apple fritters.  My question is, “Does that count to keep me safe from doctors?”

Normally, I enjoy this sweet treat no more than once a month.  If a chocolate chip cookie has as many as 500 calories, I’m not even going to ask Siri how many calories are in an apple fritter.  I don’t want to know.

So why three fritters in three days?  As best I can tell I was motivated by three primary factors:

1. Convenience: I happened to be driving in the neighborhood of the Donut store all three days. This morning I was picking up BBQ ribs for a small Super Bowl party.  And what do you call a Super Bowl without apple fritters?  (Answer at the end.)
2. Kindness: An older couple has been behind the counter of the donut store for years, and they seem to work seven days a week. I assume this is their only source of income and I wanted to help them out.
3. Self-interest: I love apple fritters (much more than chocolate chip cookies).

My Super Bowl guests today are bringing chili, dips, and desert along with their hearty appetites. I assume they will be rooting for the Rams – especially if they want to enjoy the ribs and fritters.

While I wish I could linger with you, our guests are due to arrive in a few minutes and I need to put out the remaining two apple fritters.  Notably – despite the medical research – we will not be serving prunes.

Alan

Answer:  The Super Bowl.