Alan Fox

As you may already know, I’ve been writing this blog for more than ten years, and that means I’ve almost exhausted the mother lode of stories that I had to tell.

And yet, I’m not planning to stop writing this blog any time soon. After all, I’m only 85.  My father and aunt both lived to be more than 100.

This means I’ll most likely need to come up with close to a thousand more ideas to write about.  But I often find now that Nancy, my editor and friend for more than 500 blogs, has a better memory than I do.  Last week she encouraged me not to write about two of the three ideas I’d proposed.  Why?  “Already used.”  (She must think she has the memory of a thirty-year-old.  I don’t even remember what that was like.)

That’s the Pre-face.

The real face is, “Would it help.”

To remind you, in the movie Bridge of Spies, Tom Hanks plays the role of an attorney defending Mark Rylance (the alleged spy Rudolph Abel).  Hanks asks Rylance if he understands that if he is convicted, he could be executed.

“I do,” said Rylance.

“But you don’t seem to be upset,” Hanks said.

Ryland’s answer will stick with me forever (or for the next 15 years, whichever comes sooner), “Would it help?”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (possibly in another blog), if there is nothing further you can do to solve a problem, even one as serious as imminent death, why waste time and energy by worrying about it?

One way I achieve this is by staying in the moment.

My wife never asks me, “Did you miss me?”  She knows, by now, my answer.  I don’t miss people because I am focused on the person that I am with, not some phantom elsewhere in the universe.

And, as I’ve mentioned before, when a coworker asks me if I’m looking forward to a vacation, I know the polite answer is something like, “You bet.”  But my truth is that I begin to enjoy a vacation when I step into the airplane, and seldom a moment before.

So while I know there might be many things worrying you, this year I encourage you to immediately ask yourself, “Would it help?”  You already know my answer to that. (And, if not, maybe I’ll remind you next week.)

But my advice — don’t think about 2027 until about a year from now.

Alan

I love to watch football, a game I once played (emphasis on the once). I’ve shared this story before but today, on the eve of a new year, I find it appropriate to share it again.

When I was sixteen years old I participated in a five-week speech program at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. I travelled from Los Angeles and arrived early Sunday afternoon. Since I weighed more than two hundred pounds, I was immediately recruited to play in a game of “touch” football as a lineman.

On the first play the boy opposite me blew right past me, knocking me on my ass.

Second play. Same result.

Third play, I was not so lucky.

This time I tore a tendon in my leg. The good news is I had an excuse not to play any more football. The bad news is that each day I had to hobble from the dorm on one end of the campus to the classrooms on the other end — a distance of what seemed like at least ten miles.

At first I was accompanied by Becky, a girl from Indianapolis, but I think she got tired of walking slowly so I could keep up.

My proudest accomplishment was winning an award for discussion, though I still wonder about the significance of that award in a competitive speech program.

Also, in my defense, or lack of defense, I later discovered that my friendly football opponent, who so ably dispatched me to the ground multiple times, did have football experience.

He was an All-State guard from Tennessee (although only third string).

I have never pretended to be a football player since.

So why am I retelling this story now? Because the beginning of a new year is a time for reflection. This year I encourage you to double down on being your most authentic self. Trying to fit in by pretending to be someone you’re not will never serve you. And, as I discovered in my very brief football career, it might even set you back in ways you can’t even anticipate

I hope you’ll ring in the new year surrounded by those who love you for who you really are.

Alan

If you have children, or have ever been a child, you know the excitement of Christmas. And integral to the holiday excitement is the imminent arrival of Santa.

Imagine — one elderly gentleman sliding down every chimney on earth and doing it in a single night. No wonder he stays home at the North Pole every other day of the year. In fact, an unauthorized (elf) source has confirmed to me that after he loads his sleigh and takes off, Mrs. Claus has been heard to mutter under her breath, “Finally! I have an evening to myself.”

We all know that the idea of Santa is a fable.

Or is it?

I want to be a source of happiness for the holiday season, not some sort of Scrooge. So, let the children remain naive. And perhaps, as adults, a part of us should remain naive as well. Perhaps we should each remember our own childhood.

On Christmas Day, Daveen and I are hosting an open house for friends and family. Unfortunately, all the chimney sweeps in Los Angeles are busy (yes — both of them). Fortunately, we only use gas logs in our fireplace so, as the late basketball announcer Chick Hearn often said, “No harm, no foul.”

Santa, we welcome you to Sherman Oaks.

In the spirit of the holiday, I will posit an alternative view of Mr. Claus. Years ago, I flew in a small plane that landed on ice nine tenths of a mile from the true North Pole, (or so the pilot informed us).

I saw no elves, no sleigh, and no red costumes anywhere. And yet, in my lifetime, I have met Santa many times.

And he comes in many forms. I’m still grateful to one of my law professors, Leonard Ratner, who gave me the gift of being able to take the Bar Exam with the rest of my class, despite the fact that the final paper I submitted was, well, far too short.

Here’s the secret.

Most of us find the greatest pleasure, especially on Christmas, in the giving.

So if you’re wondering where Santa is right now, I’ll tell you.

Santa is reading this blog. Because Santa is you.

Wishing everyone a fulfilling and Merry Christmas.

Alan