I’m currently 86 years old, but I still remember my first white shirt and tie. My father gave them to me when I was 15, almost three quarters of a century ago.  My memory of the white shirt is indelible.

The shirt was made from Dacron, a synthetic polyester fiber developed by Dupont in the 1950’s. It was known for being strong and wrinkle resistant.  My father had used this shirt, his only white shirt, for a three- month Xavier Cugat tour of the Philippines and Asia.  You read it right.  A single white shirt, hand washed every night by my dad, for three months.  In the tropics. He packed light (and the fabric was also known for drying very fast).

By the time I inherited the shirt it had several problems, most notably the smell.  Evidently, despite all its other qualities, the fabric wasn’t resistant to odors, and over time it had acquired an indelible stench.  My father must have sweated profusely, and the odor of sweat always clung to the shirt, regardless of who was wearing it or how many times it was washed.

There was also a cigarette burn in the sleeve that scratched my left arm every time I wore the darn shirt, and whenever I wore the shirt, I choked. Literally.  My dad had a 15-1/2 inch neck and I have a 17-1/2 inch neck. Securing the top button was nearly impossible, but I sure tried.  Especially for school dances.

When I was married, my wife suggested that I buy a white shirt that fit me properly. Good advice.  But by then the shirt had served its purpose and had looked good enough, to get me married.

I’m delighted to report that society has finally caught up with me in allowing informality, and my too-tight white shirt has long ago been retired.  But I still have six white shirts hanging in my closet, should either of my sons be attending a dance.  And all of them have a proper 17-1/2-inch neck.

But I still hate wearing ties.

Alan

That’s one of the big questions, though most of us don’t ponder it much because we’re busy getting through our days, trying to find our car keys and remember our passwords.

Still, the question does remain, even if wedged into the back of our minds.

What is life really about?

Some people believe it’s all about winning. Get the grade, get the money, get the applause, get the better car, get the bigger office, get the blue checkmark, get whatever shiny thing the other person has to offer. But if life were only about winning, then every champion would remain happy forever, and that clearly does not happen. Even people who “have it all” eventually discover that “all” was not enough. Both a full calendar and an empty heart can reside in the same house.

Others say life is about pleasure.  Not a bad idea. Be comfortable. Be entertained. Avoid pain. Eat dessert first and never ask yourself difficult questions. Now, I’m not against dessert. I think it’s one of civilization’s better ideas. But a life built only on comfort can gradually become uncomfortably empty. If your main goal is to avoid difficulty, you will also be avoiding growth, courage, surprise, and meaning.

So maybe life is not entirely about winning and comfort.

Maybe life is about becoming.

Becoming wiser. Kinder. Braver. More honest. More yourself.

That does not mean becoming famous or living to impress others. Those are costumes. I suggest you become the person you would respect even if nobody else noticed or clapped.

A good life, I think, has at least three parts.

First: love. Love of family, friends, truth, beauty, justice, ideas, music, a dog who thinks you are a genius because you opened a bag of snacks. Life is thin and meaningless without connection. We are built to care and be cared for.

Second: purpose. You do not need to solve world hunger by Thursday. But it helps to do something that matters beyond gazing at your own reflection. Make something. Help someone. Learn something deeply. Stand for something decent. Tiny acts count. A life can be meaningful in a whisper as well as a shout.

Third: wonder. Life is richer when we remain curious. What makes the sky beautiful? Who made up all the words? Why do we like songs? Wonder protects life from becoming a long corridor of chores.

And yes, life also includes confusion, boredom, loss, embarrassment, and taxes. From the mundane discomfort you feel when you send a text to the wrong person, to the deep pain you feel when you lose someone you love. Meaning is not the absence of feeling uncomfortable. Meaning is having reasons to keep living.

So, what is life really about?

As best I can tell: loving well, growing honestly, helping where you can, and paying attention so you’ll notice all the miracles in this strange, difficult, wonderful, and funny world.

Life is far from perfect.

Perhaps that’s another facet of its charm.

Alan

For months Daveen and I have looked forward to our two-week Viking River cruise from Amsterdam to Budapest.

We began the cruise on Saturday, August 1^st, and have now spent more than a week aboard the ship.

Well,  actually not all of it has been aboard the ship. We spent two nights in a very nice hotel room in Frankfurt, Germany, courtesy of Viking and the water gods, due to low water levels.

Because the water level is the lowest it’s been in decades, I’ve renamed the cruise the Sliver Cruise because we are traveling on just a sliver of river.

I kid you not. I just read a news article on European nuclear power plants closing because there isn’t enough river water to cool their nuclear cores. I have seen families walking across what is usually a very deep river. Now it is only a few feet deep in places.

Viking has many cruise ships travelling on the river, so they’ve hired busses to ferry us around the “dry” spots, to ships stationed up-river. It must be a management nightmare for them, but this is a vacation for me and I’m trying to leave my “business” persona where it belongs — back in Los Angeles.

Climate change?  Who knows.

But in the future Daveen and I may go back to ocean cruises. If the Pacific Ocean dries up we’re all (pardon the bad pun) sunk.

So, the next time you take a ten-minute shower, think about the water.  It may not always be there.

Talk about dry humor!

Alan