When I arrived home yesterday evening Daveen and I hugged, as usual. We’ve been together for forty years now and know how to read each other’s moods. She seemed a bit preoccupied, so I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Later,” she said.

I’ve also learned that timing is everything. So I waited.

As we climbed into bed Daveen was ready to talk. “I had a bad morning,” she said.

She had been driving south on Sepulveda on her way to visit our new grandson when she thought she saw a dog lying by the side of the road.  She couldn’t stop quickly enough, but finally turned her car around.  When she got back to the dog there were two other cars parked nearby, and one man was on his cell phone.”

“Was the dog hurt?” I asked.

“It wasn’t a dog.  It was a small deer.  I sat down beside it.  It looked like its legs were broken.”

“Oh, no.”

“I called 911.  They connected me to animal control.”  Daveen shook her head.  “I will never do that again,” she said, with considerable feeling.

Daveen touched the deer, trying to comfort her. The deer seemed to relax and began nuzzling Daveen’s leg.

“She was very weak,” Daveen said.  Then she began to sob.

“We…we…the deer and I had a connection.  I felt it.  I told her that everything was going to be all right.  That I would help her.  After I told her it was going to be okay, I believed it.  But then animal control arrived.  It was awful.

“They took one look at the deer and said they would have to kill her.”

“What?”

Now there were tears in my eyes.

“That’s exactly what they said.  That they would have to shoot her.  Alan, I felt so completely helpless.  There was nothing I could do.  They wouldn’t even let me touch her again.  There was nothing I could do.”

I felt helpless as well. I told Daveen I loved her and I patted her back while she cried on my shoulder.  Sometimes just being present is the best and only comfort you can offer.

“I will never do anything with animal control again,” she said.  “Never in my life.”

“Of course, honey.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to call animal rescue,” she said.  “Maybe they would actually help.”

It was a long time before either of us fell asleep.

Alan

Last week, for the first time in over a year, one of my sons and I resumed having our monthly lunch at a lovely restaurant with outdoor seating.

It felt great to return to our regular routine, as if our lunch conversations had never been interrupted.

At some point my son brought up the subject of saving money. “When I was young,” I said, “I had two major reasons to save money.  First, to pay for whatever medical care my family might need.  Second, to pay for a college education for my children.”

He laughed.  “That’s exactly what my father-in-law says, and as you know, he’s from another country.”

I was delighted to learn that another member of our extended family shares the same value.

There are other reasons why you might want to save money.  When he was 18, my father held a full time position as First French Horn for the Minneapolis symphony orchestra.  He saved part of his salary so he could afford to get married.  I certainly like the result of that idea.

When I was 21 I formed a specific plan to accumulate enough money to retire at age 35.  Fourteen years later, despite achieving my financial goal, I found that I enjoyed my work so much that I continue. It’s been another 46 years so far.  I feel like the airline pilot who announced to his passengers, “Ninety-nine percent of the time you don’t need me.  But when you do need me, you really need me.” I’m glad I continue be here for so many investors through the years to help them achieve their own financial goals, and accumulate enough money to support what’s most important in their lives.

Today, all of my children are grown and able to support themselves. They handle their own money, and can pay for their own education and health care.  Now I can take delight in the delightful people they turned out to be.  Every one of them has graduated from college and is making their mark in the world.  Now it’s their turn to provide health care and a good education for children of their own.

Alan

Today is Saturday, May 15, 2021, and it’s much like any other Saturday in May.  This morning I enjoyed a walk with my daughter, the freshening breeze against our cheeks.  At the midpoint we stopped to admire the panoramic San Fernando Valley below.

Today is much like any other Saturday in May.  Except…

Except that today Michael Jordan will step behind a podium and introduce Kobe’s widow, Vanessa, to posthumously induct Kobe Bryant into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.  Kobe’s daughter, Natalia Bryant, will wear her late father’s Hall of Fame jacket.  I expect she will have tears beneath her smile.

Kobe was one of the best, and one of the best known, to ever play professional basketball.  He spent his entire career as a Los Angeles Laker, and was the first guard in history to play for 20 seasons.  Daveen and I attended many of his games, though, sadly, we were absent from his 81-point effort against the Toronto Raptors in 2006.  In both the 2008 and 2012 Summer Olympics he won a gold medal as a member of the U.S. national team.

I was, and I am, impressed by Kobe’s legacy as an elite athlete.  But I am far more impressed by Kobe as a human being.  He said he wanted more out of his life than just a successful basketball career.  And he achieved that goal.

Kobe and his wife Vanessa founded a family foundation.  Its mission was “helping young people in need, encouraging the development of physical and social skills through sports and assisting the homeless.” During his life he granted more than two hundred requests for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  At the time of his death he was working on a children’s book to inspire underprivileged children.

After his retirement Kobe won an Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film for the film Dear Basketball.

Kobe and his daughter Gianna died in a helicopter crash in Calabasas, California at 9:06 am Pacific Standard Time on January 26, 2020.  The day was much like any other day in January.  Except…

Kobe, I never met you.  But, like many others, I feel I know you.  And I will admire you, always.

Rest in peace, Kobe.

Rest in peace.

Alan