I remember seeing a news photo of Michael Jackson dangling his infant son from the fourth-floor balcony of his hotel room.

The photo was terrifying.

Although I have no memory of ever being “dangled” myself, I’ve always had a fear of edges. Most people would call this phobia a fear of heights, but it isn’t the height that scares me. I’m fine on airplanes. It’s the fear of falling that inhabits my nightmares.

I do remember when I was three- or four-years old marching from the kitchen to the dining room balcony carrying an open umbrella.

“This is my parachute and I’m going to jump off the balcony into the backyard.”

“No you’re not!” My mom said.

That was the last I saw of that umbrella. And I don’t think I was ever allowed out on the balcony again. At least that is how I remember it.  And since I’m 85, and my parents and brother have died, my childhood memories are mine alone. There is no one left to contradict me.

Except maybe Daveen, whose memory is far better than mine. She remembers every story my mother shared with her about my childhood, and has, on occasion, offered a different version of my own childhood memories.

Daveen and I met when I was in my thirties. Thank goodness for that. Because since then, if I need to remember something, I have her to remember it for me.

While I never jumped off the balcony with an umbrella, I do remember other examples of my youthful poor judgment. A friend of mine had just earned his driver’s license, and I had the not-so-bright idea of letting him drive us to the beach in my mother’s car. Of course, we neglected to ask her permission.  So, when we returned, and he parked the car in a slightly different spot, my ever-observant father noticed.  Our “borrowing” of the car led to a fitting punishment. My dad didn’t let me apply for my own driver’s license for another six months.

Yesterday Daveen and I were driving back from a friend’s wedding. It was dark and the road was winding. It brought to mind a tragic situation years ago when Cecile, my assistant at the time, died in in a car accident driving back from a wedding on a dark mountain highway. Her car flew off a cliff—with no umbrella.

I guess we’re never too old, or too young, to make a mistake.

But from now on, I’m going to avoid balconies.

And umbrellas.

And weddings?

Alan

In general, I’m not one to worry.

But many years ago I woke up at 4:00 am and began to worry about an unresolved problem at work. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t, which was (and is), unusual for me.

Rather than spend a sleepless night worrying, I got up, showered, dressed, and drove to my office, because working on a problem is the best cure that I have found. Once I’m in the process of solving a problem, I stop being concerned about it. By sheer coincidence, at 5:00 am that same morning one of our apartment managers called the office expecting to leave a message on the answering machine. (Remember those?). When I answered the phone, she was startled to find someone in the office that early.

But what can you do when you’re unable to find a solution? One of my most helpful People Tools is, “Stuff it in Your Sub.” When you can’t immediately solve a problem you (politely and silently) ask your subconscious mind to work on it.  I used that very Tool to decide the subject of my blog for today, and it’s a tool I have often used to great effect throughout my life.

I still remember a class I took in Shakespeare taught by an outstanding professor at USC. On the final exam there was one question, three quarters of a page long, covering all five plays we had studied. As I read that question, I thought, “This is probably the best exam question I have ever read in my life.”  Followed by, “I have no idea how to even start answering it.”

I watched as my disembodied right hand began to write an answer the question.  As it turns out, my subconscious earned an “A-“.

So don’t worry, stay happy, and I hope you enjoyed Father’s Day.

Alan

On weekends I like to watch sports on TV. My favorite is football, but until the football season begins in August, I enjoy watching other sports, including tennis.

Last Saturday morning I woke myself up early, at seven am, to watch the women’s finals at the French Open tennis tournament.

The match was already in progress when I turned it on. I was disappointed that second seeded Coco Gauff, the twenty-two-year-old American, had already lost the first set to her opponent, the top-seeded Sabalenka.

Coco would have to win two sets in a row if she were to prevail in this major tournament. But, under windy conditions, Coco thundered back to take the second set at 6-2, then the third set at 6-4. An excellent start for my weekend.

On Sunday Carlos Alcaraz, a handsome guy from Spain, was one of the two men’s finalists. Carlos can usually outplay anyone in the world, but he was equally matched in this final round by his top-ranked opponent with the intriguing name of J Sinner.  This time I tuned in shortly after six am, just as the Sunday match was beginning.

And quite a match it was.

Sinner won the first two sets 6-4 and 7-6. Alcaraz had previously lost all eight of the matches in which he’d fallen behind by two sets, so this did not look good for him. But I didn’t quite give up.

Alcaraz won the third set 6-4. At this point, alas, I had to leave my home to attend a meeting. Alcaraz would have to continue playing without me cheering him on, in what would become one of the longest finals in French Open history – more than five hours. Obviously both players were young and fit. As I was driving, Alcaraz eked out a win in the fourth set, 7-6. Now Alcaraz and Sinner were tied in an exhaustingly long match where the players were as even as they come.

Then the fifth and final set — winner take more. Throughout my meeting I surreptitiously followed progress on my iPhone sports app.

Ultimately, Alcaraz prevailed by the narrowest of margins, 7-6, in a tiebreaker. You may have seen the photo of Alcaraz lying on his back on the red clay court after he won the final point.

So through the example of Coco and Carlos this past weekend we learned, yet again, that even if we’re far behind, we can still prevail if we persevere.

I spent Sunday afternoon reading a new biography of Mark Twain (an excellent thousand-page volume).

That is, until the NBA playoff game began on TV at 5:00 pm.

Alan

P.S.  Actually, in the entire match, Sinner scored one point more than Alcarez.  It was that close.