When I was a kid I seldom believed the conventional wisdom my mother attempted to instill in me.  I found her advice to be, well, so conventional. Here are a few examples.

“If you don’t brush every day, your teeth will fall out when you’re older.”

At the time I thought the only real reason to brush your teeth was to avoid bad breath, which I didn’t have.  So until ten years ago, after my second tooth implant, I seldom brushed my teeth.  Actually, one tooth did fall out – it broke off at the gum line one day during lunch, and within an hour I was at my dentist’s office so she could finish the job.  Now I brush my teeth every day.

Score:  Mom 1, Alan 0.

“Get enough exercise or you will drop dead from a heart attack.”

Until a few years ago I seldom exercised intentionally, and it’s self-evident that I have not dropped dead from a heart attack or anything else.  As regular readers of my blog know, more than a year ago I began walking three miles every day.

Yesterday my cardiologist called. He sounded a little surprised as he shared my test results. Evidently my heart is in slightly better condition than it was last year.  Mom would have smiled.  Daveen and I laughed.

Score:  Mom 2, Alan 0.

“Eat all of your vegetables or you’ll die of scurvy.”

Come on, Mom.  Scurvy was a problem for sailors years ago when they didn’t eat fruits or vegetables on sea voyages that lasted months or years.  Besides, you usually overcooked the vegetables, and you only used plain vinegar or lemon juice on the salad.  Yuck!

Today (I can hardly believe this myself), I often enjoy a salad as my entire dinner.  With blue cheese dressing, of course.  Mom, you may have been right, but I’ve never had scurvy.

Score:  Mom 2.7, Alan 0.3.

I never told my (now adult) children to brush their teeth, get enough exercise, or eat all of their vegetables.  But they know.  Maybe my mom got to them somehow.

That’s the interesting part of conventional wisdom.  It’s become conventional because it is, after all, wisdom.

Alan

Many of my best blogs are missing.

No, they weren’t swallowed by my computer, although my laptop has digested more than one document.

Let me explain.

The first step in writing my blog is inspiration.  What should I write about this week?  That is the more difficult part for me.  The actual writing is easier.  Fortunately, at some point during my week, often while I’m walking, I’m struck with a promising idea for my next blog.

After that spark of inspiration, the next step is simply to remember the idea. Unfortunately, my ideas have a half-life of about 12 seconds. So unless I write them down immediately, and I do mean immediately, I am likely to forget them.  Perversely, it seems that the better the idea, the more quickly I forget it.  (Is this a delusion?  Maybe one day I’ll write about that, if I remember.)

Many years ago Roberta, a writer/friend of my father’s, complained that her best ideas bloomed in the middle of the night, only to become lost by morning.  Dad suggested that she buy one of those new-fangled tape recorders so she could record the idea on tape as soon as it came to her.

She did.  But Roberta ultimately reported to Dad that those “middle of the night blossoms” seemed dehydrated in the light of day.

Even though my iPhone is almost always with me and, if not, there is always the old fashioned method – pen and paper, I’ve always had a mental block against writing my ideas down.  Even when I really push myself, I only write down about half.

This morning I had two excellent business ideas.  By afternoon all I remembered was that they were terrific because I had completely forgotten what they were.

So if you have any great ideas for my next blog, please share.  I’ve already forgotten most of mine.

Oh, well.  At least this blog is finished.

Cheers.

Please.

Alan

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