Most of the conversations I have each day are with myself.  These often start the moment I wake up with, “I wonder how much I weigh this morning,” or “What am I going to eat for breakfast?”

If I expect to have a difficult conversation with someone, I often practice silently to help me crystallize what I want to achieve, and to help me organize the right words.  Sometimes, as a result, I decide that it’s best to not have the conversation at all.

I no longer bother myself with any internal conversation involving generalized self-blame (“You’re stupid,” or “You’ll never be able to lose weight.”), and I rarely discourage myself, other than momentarily. (“This pandemic will ruin everything.”)

During the past month I’ve had more telephone conversations than usual, mostly to receive or give advice, or to cheer up friends. In one recent conversation, my friend Roberta offered me an idea which she often uses herself, especially with her children.

She said, “Whenever a family member is talking s**t to himself or herself, I ask, ‘Would your best friend talk to you that way?’”

Think about it. A friend is supposed to build you up, not tear you down.  A friend, especially a best friend, should encourage you even while being realistic. I’m sure you would do the same for them.  Friends are supposed to be a source of support, not merciless criticism.  They should be available for advice, or just to listen when that’s what you need.

As Roberta suggests, treat yourself as your own best friend.

Today most of us are “sheltering in place” either by ourselves, with family or with close friends.  In any case, we have the opportunity to talk to ourselves even more than usual.  So let’s keep it positive.  As my father often said to me, “Alan, you should be your own best friend.”

If not now, when?  Let’s talk the walk.

Keep safe.

Alan

One evening when I was thirteen, I spent three hours rapt on a seat next to my mother in the last row of the gallery in the old Philharmonic Auditorium in downtown Los Angles. The Auditorium was located directly north of what is now the underground parking lot of Pershing Square. While the theater is long gone, my memory of that evening remains, because at that memorable performance, an enduring love of musical theater blossomed inside me.

I had been at the birthday party of my friend, Carol Sumner, when my mother arrived unexpectedly early to pick me up

“Your dad and I have tickets to a musical tonight, and he has to work, so I’m going to go with you,” she said.

I didn’t know what “a musical” was, but I did know I was going to miss a helping or two of birthday cake and ice cream, so it had better be good.

My father was thrifty.  Our seats seemed to be a football field away from the stage, but my vision and hearing were fine then.  (“You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.”)  I remember how my dad always decried the fact that the Sumners bought expensive seats in the Orchestra section.  Of course, later in life, he never complained when I treated him to the front row.

The “musical” that evening, more than fifty years ago, was the traveling production of South Pacific.  The stars were Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza.  I still sing some of the songs (to myself) today.  “Some Enchanted Evening” is one of the most romantic songs I’ve ever heard.  Another song, “There is Nothing like a Dame,” is a comic masterpiece.

A few years later my parents took my brother and me back to the Philharmonic for a production of another Rogers and Hammerstein classic, The King and I.  A few days ago while sheltering at home, I passed Daveen in the hallway and I remembered a happy song from The King and I, “Getting to Know You.”  I’ve printed the full lyrics below for your reading pleasure and here is a link to Julie Andrews singing this song on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MNANgFCYpk

If you’re sheltering with someone else, you’re probably getting to know more about one another, for better or for worse.  I won’t venture another opinion on that.  But I’m thinking that I’m also getting to know myself better, and that is pretty nice.

I’ve found that when I get tired of TV news I can turn it off, I don’t enjoy movies with hurtful relationships, and I’m reminded that a good book will hold my attention and distract me for hours.  Also, when I cook for myself, I eat better food (and smaller portions).

I hope you are enjoying being sheltered at home, either alone or together.  It’s still a beautiful day in the neighborhood (see last week’s blog).  More Irises bloom each morning, and today I picked a few low hanging lemons for my salmon salad.  I love the fragrance of lemon trees.

Keep positive, and keep safe.

Alan

LYRICS FROM THE SONG “GETTING TO KNOW YOU” FROM THE 1951 ROGERS AND HAMMERSTEIN MUSICAL

THE KING AND I

[Spoken] It’s a very ancient saying,

But a true and honest thought,

That if you become a teacher,

By your pupils you’ll be taught.

[Singing] As a teacher I’ve been learning —

You’ll forgive me if I boast —

And I’ve now become an expert,

On the subject I like most.

[Spoken] Getting to know you.

[Singing] Getting to know you,

Getting to know all about you.

Getting to like you,

Getting to hope you like me.

Getting to know you,

Putting it my way,

But nicely,

You are precisely,

My cup of tea.

[ANNA AND THE MOTHERS]

Getting to know you,

Getting to know all about you.

Getting to like you,

Getting to hope you like me.

Getting to know you,

Putting it my way,

But nicely,

You are precisely,

[ANNA]

My cup of tea.

[ALL]

Getting to know you,

Getting to feel free and easy

When I am with you,

Getting to know what to say

Haven’t you noticed

Suddenly I’m bright and breezy?

Because of all the beautiful and new

Things I’m learning about you

Day by day.

Getting to know you,

Getting to feel free and easy

When I am with you,

Getting to know what to say

Haven’t you noticed

Suddenly I’m bright and breezy?

Because of all the beautiful and new

Things I’m learning about you

Day .. by … day.

Last Sunday evening Daveen and I cuddled together as we watched the Tom Hanks movie (title above) about Mr. Rogers.  The movie tells the story of a cynical, angry journalist who is healed through the process of interviewing and writing an article about Mr. Rogers, the man who cast a long and uplifting shadow over millions of our most precious gifts, our children.

This story is a clarion call to love yourself and everyone you meet.  The message, “Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable.  When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”

We can be open with each other.

Yesterday as we enjoyed a long walk around the neighborhood Daveen and I noticed that, indeed, it was a beautiful day.  The Los Angeles air is clearer than it has been for more than seventy years.  Flowers were springing up, and various hues of green delighted our eyes.  The leaves and branches of trees fluttered gently in a freshening breeze.

The Iris, Poppies, and Azaleas don’t know there is a plague throughout the land.  Ivy, grass, and trees are not privy to human concerns.  Clouds float above us, oblivious, just as they have for longer than we humans have been around to appreciate their beauty.

Perspective.  From a million light years away our planet is smaller than a speck, our continents and seas anonymous, and our very beings of little consequence.  I find that idea to be redeeming.

Do we face a human crisis?  Of course.

Are we properly concerned about food, jobs, and family?  Yes.

Do we need to take care of ourselves and others as best we can?  Absolutely.

As we move forward, let’s not only carry within us the love that we both contain and crave, but let’s also share it with one another. Let’s reveal how we feel without reservation or fear.  Isn’t it beautiful to be connected and know we aren’t alone?

The best part of our neighborhood is that everyone we passed, at a respectful distance, waved and greeted us.  While we might be confined to separate bodies, we all share the very same, beautiful, journey.

Indeed, it is a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Love,

Alan