In a sense, our lives are a collection of memories, over which we exercise some degree of control.

The saddest letter I’ve ever read was written by my grandfather to my father, many years ago.

My father’s dad had retired to Florida.  My dad had moved to California to pursue his career in music.  Phone calls were expensive, so they communicated through the best alternative available at that time – snail mail.  After a number of years Dad suggested, “When we write to each other, let’s remember the happy times, and save our grievances for when we meet in person.”  That sounded like a reasonable request to me.

Grandpa responded. “I can’t remember a single happy time we ever had together.”

Ouch!

You might not be surprised to learn that my dad cut off further communication, and did not attend his father’s funeral.  My dad’s estrangement from his father is one reason I made it a point to visit Dad often. We were both committed to sustaining our connection.  Dad called me many times a week, but never stayed on the phone for more than a few minutes.  I imagine he was concerned about taking up too much of my time and risk losing a relationship that was important to him.

I have a lot of happy memories of my father.  When I was young he took me deep sea fishing many times.  Our family vacations were always a treat.  I still remember marveling at Victoria Gardens on Vancouver Island in Canada on one of our week-long journeys.  I cherish the memory of my dad beaming at his 100^th birthday party surrounded by more than one hundred beloved guests.

In curating the moments of my life, I put my happy memories on top.  I prefer to enrich my life each day with joy, rather than grievances from the past and fears for the future.

Let’s laugh at our past mistakes, remain optimistic about our future, and fully embrace all of the happy times we’ve enjoyed.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to share a happy memory with three or four people you see today.

There is a line from Alice in Wonderland where the Queen says, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” But I always seem to misremember it as: “Sometimes I think of a dozen happy thoughts before breakfast.”

It’s never too early, or too late, to remember a happy time.

And while we’re at it, there is no better time than today to create additional happy memories for tomorrow.

Alan

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

It was the middle of the night. We were staying at a hotel in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I had gotten up to use the bathroom, but instead beat a hasty retreat back to bed.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“You came back too quickly.”

I didn’t want to scare her, but thought it best to ‘fess up.  “Well, I saw a spider in the bathroom.  Actually, a very large spider.  A giant spider. A tarantula, I think.  It disappeared into a large crack in the floor next to the toilet.”

We decided to leave the lights on.

After a few minutes, sure enough, the tarantula emerged from its crack, entered our bedroom, and began to climb up the wall opposite our bed.  We both froze in panic. It climbed across the ceiling and came to a stop directly above our bed.  Clearly, it was planning to drop down and kill us.

I was so scared I couldn’t think of what to do or even what I should ask her to do (assuming she wasn’t as terrified of spiders as I was).  We did nothing but watch and wait.

Eventually, the tarantula slowly retraced its path and exited our bedroom.  Maybe it returned to its hiding spot in the crack next to the toilet.  We stayed in bed with the lights on and remained awake the rest of the night.

In the morning my parents arrived in their VW Van to pick us up.

“Please take us to Mexico City,” I said.  “I want to go home.  Now.”

“But you have reservations at beautiful hotels for the next four nights,” my mom said.

I didn’t care. “Mom.  Mexico City.  Please. Now.” I told her about our night of terror.  My mom was already familiar with my arachnophobia.

At seven thirty that evening I gratefully fell into my bed in Los Angeles.

“I’m never going back to Mexico again,” I vowed.

It’s now been more than 45 years, and I haven’t.  I have seen a few rather impressive bugs in Hawaii, but . . . well . . . they weren’t tarantulas.

This is a true story.

Have a Happy Halloween.

Alan

I embraced many beliefs when I was younger that later turned out to be entirely wrong.  Here are ten of my favorite misconceptions:

1. Every family uses a shared dish towel and passes it around the dinner table as needed. It’s wasteful to provide a napkin for each person’s individual use. When I was sixteen I invited a girlfriend home for dinner.  She was horrified by my family practice. She thought it was unhygienic. Five years later we were married anyway. At her insistence, I gave up the tradition I’d grown up with and now use napkins instead.
2. It is important to preserve your body by not working it any more than necessary. I avoided walking whenever I could.  Now I walk several miles a day.  For both health, and for fun.
3. Being smart is all that really matters for a successful life. I’ve since discovered that emotional IQ is much more important. If you can only have one skill, getting along well with others is now my top choice.
4. Everyone has a messy bedroom. As an adult, no one I have lived with has had a cluttered bedroom. Not even me anymore.
5. To encourage a child to improve you have to criticize or punish them regularly so they will not get a big head and lose their incentive to do better.  Well of course that was wrong.
6. Never praise a child. See #5 above.  Yes, really. And equally wrong.
7. You grow up, get married, have children, and live happily ever after, all of the time. Maybe you believed that one too.  I’m still chasing the fantasy.
8. Work is to be avoided at all costs. Retire as early as you possibly can. Currently, I still find that work provides an important social and intellectual outlet for me.
9. You can never talk to anyone about sex. Or birth control. Thankfully, that is simply not true.
10. Women are wonderful. Men are unpredictable.  When I was ten I invited ten girls, and one boy, to my birthday party.  (My mother insisted on the one boy.)  In my early twenties I had only female friends. Now I know that people of all genders can be wonderful, and also sometimes unpredictable.

I’m sure if you thought about it, you could compose your own list of the misconceptions you’ve held at various stages of your life.  Especially concerning topics you were never able to talk about. Life is a learning process, and the older I get the more I learn.

I’m glad there are a few advantages to being an octogenarian.

Alan