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I’ve heard it said that as we age our youthful memories remain strong. That’s certainly true for me (even as I struggle to remember what I ate for breakfast).

What did I love to eat as a kid?

Ice cream. Probably like most kids.

And, as you know from a previous blog, I especially loved ice cream from the Good Humor truck.  Nothing was better on a summer afternoon than hearing the chimes announcing that the Good Humor man would soon drive past the front of our house on Meadow Valley Terrace. While we have many more conveniences today, a daily delivery of ice cream is not one of them. For the past fifty years, I’ve had to drive to a store for my fix of ice cream.  While you can have almost any type of cuisine delivered right to your door, ice cream is typically not included. Would you trust a Grubhub driver to bring you something that could melt en route? Probably not.  Thankfully, Daveen has hidden small ice cream cones in the freezer in our garage, so I never have to go without. It’s not as much fun as getting my ice cream from a truck, but Daveen does deliver with a smile.

As you may have concluded from reading my blogs, I seriously enjoy food. When I was five or six I would always accompany my mom to the grocery store, and, for better or worse, she pretty much let me put whatever I wanted into her cart.

Do you remember the good ole days when restaurants served a basket of bread with your meal?  I used to devour five or six slices of sour dough, and that was even before ordering a meal. Today most restaurants charge extra for bread, thus demonstrating that not all trends are positive.

Thanks to an 18^th Century British nobleman, The 4th Earl of Sandwich (who is credited for inventing it), people started putting meat or cheese between two slices of bread. For the eponymous Earl, it was a way to eat without leaving his seat at the gambling table, and it quickly caught on with the working class and others who didn’t have time to sit down for a full meal.

I’ve probably eaten more sandwiches in my lifetime than anything else. Because who doesn’t love a great sandwich? A Club, a BLT, a Grilled Cheese, and even that comforting staple of childhood, the PB&J.  A few years ago, a nutritionist pointed out to me that an open face sandwich saves a lot of calories, and that one tip has helped me maintain a much healthier weight.

But next time you see me, ask me to hum the Good Humor truck tune.

I still remember that as well.

Alan

Some might call it serendipity. Other’s might call it cause and effect. But isn’t wonderful how one choice, one decision can ripple through your entire life?

About fifty years ago I decided on a whim, to judge at the California State High School Speech Tournament finals. I had been involved in speech and debate in both high school and college and I thought it might be fun.

As one of the three judges for the final round of oratory, I helped select the winner. But then, I made another choice. I wrote the winner a check so he could afford to attend to the national finals in Washington, D. C.

Word of monetary gifts travel fast. Two months later his friend Jim showed up in my office. He was finishing his great novel, and needed money to live on, so I hired him to be a “secret shopper” for our apartment buildings in the San Fernando Valley. (I learned that more than one of our apartment managers wore their hair in curlers on Sunday morning).

But the point of this story (which I’ve shared before) is that my one decision, to judge a speech contest, led to chain of events that has drastically impacted my life for the better.  Jim in turn, introduced me to rare book collecting. It was through rare book collecting that I first saw Daveen, who was working at Heritage Book Shop on La Cienega.

And through Daveen I met … well, three of my daughters, for one thing.

Once choice. A lifetime of happy consequences. Each day in our lives we follow along a path, making many decisions. Inevitably, those decisions impact our lives in unforeseeable ways. If I take the path that forks off the one I’m on, that could change everything. The folks we meet in our journey might be a random lot. But if we have the sagacity to notice these chance meetings as opportunities, we can have a hand in creating our own good fortune. Our task is not to find the best possible partner or friends, but to recognize them when, through happy accident, we meet along the path.

The life I have today is as good as it gets. And I can thank a few well-made choices, and a few happy accidents for that.

So, share your joy. I wish you many happy accidents.

Alan

Though she really did exist, her name was not Josephine, and she was extremely smart, except in one important area — interactions with people.

Over the years I’ve told my children, as well as anyone else who would listen, that if you can have only a single skill in life it should be getting along well with others. I think that Josephine missed that lecture.

She first saw me for counseling when I was an apprentice in the Counselor Ed program at the USC School of Education.  She continued seeing me, sporadically and at no cost, for many years after.

I remember one of Josephine’s many problems. On the second day of a new job she gave her employer a list of everything she thought they needed to correct in their business.

How much longer do you think she held that job?  (Hint: think Minutes rather than Years.)

I have absolutely no idea whether Josephine’s suggestions had value. In any event, her ideas might have been eagerly implemented if their source had been a paid consultant rather than a know-it-all high school student. (Consider the source?) But she was hired as a file clerk, not as a Consultant .

If she had been driving, I might have bluntly suggested that she stay in her own lane. But she was just an intrusive busybody with no common sense. (There’s nothing so uncommon as common sense?)

So what should I say?

Wait a minute. You think I’m going to just give you the answer?

No no no. You’re going to have to work for this one.

Actually, I’m going to have to work for this one. I did learn in the USC Professional Wiriting program that a self-help author is expected to be an expert. No hemming and hawing. Just perfection. Now.

Interestingly enough, research in Counseling at the time clearly indicated that talking to a friend could have the same value as talking to a professional counselor. I don’t think the Counseling industry publicized this finding to any major extent.

So here we are. Pretty much as we were before.

But now we realize that maybe finishing the GRE quickly, and even with a perfect score, does not necessarily guarantee success in life.

It’s the personal touch that really counts. 

Alan