This week is the 100^th anniversary of the annual Miss America beauty pageant. Over the years the “pageant” has evolved considerably. Though it began as a “bathing beauty review” in 1921, it is no longer considered a pageant, but a competition. The swimsuit portion was eliminated in 2018 and the participants, now referred to as candidates, are no longer judged on their outward physical appearance, but on their talent and intellect.  And that reminds me of a meeting I had in the mid 1980’s with Debra Sue Maffett, who had been named Miss America in 1983.

I imagine many people, notably including me, are uncomfortable and not sure how to act when in the presence of an unusually attractive person who is a larger than life public figure. Especially when that person suddenly appears in their office.  In this case, Miss Maffett lived with a close friend of mine and had dropped by to introduce herself.

I confess, I was intimidated.

My mind went totally blank.  I don’t remember much from our conversation, other than feeling nervous. But ultimately, I was made to feel completely at ease by Miss Maffett, whose interpersonal skills and charm exceeded her considerable beauty.  She was an excellent conversationalist and I enjoyed spending time with her.

Obviously, in life we each try to “fit in” to society.  Especially as teenagers we are extremely concerned about being accepted.  Are we too short?  Too thin, too fat?  Is our nose the right size?  Do we dress in a socially acceptable way? Today these concerns about “fitting in” are amplified by our ubiquitous social media.

But – I’d like to reassure today’s youth that if you can have just one skill in life, cultivate the ability to get along well with others.

Develop your patience, tolerance, and consideration.  Even if you are exceptional in other ways – beauty, intelligence, charisma – to maximize your enjoyment of life, you still have to figure out how to create meaningful relationships with others. It is our relationships with friends, family members and colleagues that bring our greatest joy in life.  And while I know that we can’t please all of the people all of the time, we should aim to appeal to the people that matter to us whenever possible and to always treat them with kindness.

Debra, Wikipedia says that you hail from Cut and Shoot, Texas, and that you’re now 65 years old. There is no reason you should remember me, but since we’re all in the midst of a pandemic, I’d just like to say a virtual “hello,” and thank you for your lovely visit many years ago.

Alan

I used to ask people, “What is the most money you think you could ever earn in one year?”

One woman said to me, “I wouldn’t even tell my mother that.”

“I won’t tell your mother either.” I said.

“Oh.  Okay.  $35,000,” she revealed. Of course, that was years ago.

I wasn’t just asking just to be conversational.  I was testing my theory that we can never exceed an internal limit that we have set for ourselves, even (or especially) an unconscious limit.  I personally have set my internal money-earning limit very high, and promised myself to raise it if I ever got close.  That hasn’t happened yet.

Years ago I met someone in a poetry workshop at USC who has become one of my closest friends.  She has always been a terrific poet, and I was delighted to publish a number of her poems in Rattle, the poetry journal I founded.  This year, one of her poems was included in a collection of best American poetry.  What the heck. She could be a U.S. poet laureate one day.

As a child, I took it as a given that the world was run by adults.  I never thought that one day I would be one of them, even when, at age 8, I announced that I would be President of the United States.  (Today I wouldn’t take that job if it was handed to me.)

But my generation grew up and, for better or for worse, has produced both presidents and poets.

As long as each of us is alive, our possibilities remain boundless.

I invite you to free yourself from any self-imposed limits.

Alan

Toward the end of the year I am entirely unproductive on Saturdays.  That is to say, you will find me either sitting in my family room or lying down in my bedroom, watching college football on TV.

Last Saturday disaster struck.  I couldn’t find the remote for the TV in the bedroom.  Daveen looked for it, without success.

I thought about the situation for a few minutes.  Then I opened the door to my nightstand and voila!  There it was.  I know I didn’t put it there, but I suspected that if I asked Daveen why she’d hid it we would have an argument.  And then I would miss the game.  So I merely said, “Thank you.”  (Three cheers for pragmatism.)

Alas, the remote control didn’t work.  So after fifteen frustrating minutes of not watching football in my bedroom, I moved downstairs to our family room, even though I prefer to watch in our bedroom because it is further from the kitchen where there are snacks easily available for me to munch on.

That afternoon Daveen found the correct remote under our bed.  I guess one of us had accidentally kicked it there.  I’m not going to talk to her about it, because she is undoubtedly certain that it was me.  And she may be right. And I’d rather watch football than argue.

In our house everything has its place.  My shirts.  Daveen’s shoes.  Drinking glasses in the cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink.  That is, everything except the TV remote, which seems to have a life of its own, and prefers to be “lost” somewhere in the bedroom.  Years ago I considered attaching it to my wrist, but that didn’t’ seem practical.

For you innovative thinkers out there, please come up with a better solution.  You could make a fortune inventing an always findable TV remote.  I’m sure that many men have found that arguing with their wives over where she put it doesn’t work, on so many levels.

Fortunately, my home desktop computer has never been misplaced, so writing this blog today turns out to be easier than watching college football on TV.

And writing is certainly more fun than searching for a TV remote.

Happy Tuesday!

Alan