I’m generally in a good mood, even when I’m working through challenges. But a few weeks ago, for an entire day, I felt sad.  There is a branch of psychology that studies the science of happiness. The thinking is that each of us has a baseline level of happiness, and that even when we experience setbacks, such as a day of sadness, we eventually return to our baseline. Fortunately, my baseline for happiness is steady and remains quite high.

But on the day I was feeling sad I felt the way one might as they are about to leave a grand and wonderful party.  The specific party I’m referring to is my business — ACF Property Management, Inc. — that I began on March 1, 1968. That party is still, most definitely, in full swing and roaring on. The ACF orchestra has had some turnover in its ranks, but we are still here, the Philharmonic of Property Management, continuing to make wonderful music.

I’ve enjoyed the celebration. The conflicts have been relatively few, the psychological cost reasonable, and the rewards, in terms of family, friends, and finances (the three Fox “f’s”) — beyond my fondest dreams.

I’m normally someone who makes plans, but I must admit that I never planned to become 85. My dad lived to be 104, and his father was, I believe, 91 when his party ended, so I imagine I have some time to bask in the glow of having thrown such a fantastic shindig for more than 55 years.

So, now you’re all invited to the festivities. Please stay as long as you can. We’re long past the soup, salad, and salmon, but I’ve heard rumors that the final courses are the best of all — Baked Alaska (or California) should spark some satisfaction.

And for those of you having a birthday anytime during the next twelve months, the best day to start your party is today.

Life is meant to be lived to its fullest, and science says you can elevate your state of happiness with certain practices such as self-care and gratitude. I’m starting today by being grateful and giving myself permission to take another turn around the dance floor before they bring out the dessert.

Hugs to all.

Alan

I learned many lessons from my dad. Some of them were useful, but there is one I’ve had to unlearn.  

When I was a child, I loved Major League Baseball. I even remember taking a transistor radio to school to listen to the World Series games during recess and on my walk home.

This was before major league baseball was broadcast on television — only on the radio, reported by a sportscaster who wasn’t watching the game live. With play-by-play narration and added sound effects (crowds cheering and bats cracking) the sportscaster would make it sound as if he was actually at the game, even though he was just recreating it after the fact. (A little-known story: Ronald Reagan early in his career was a sportscaster recreating games in this way for the Chicago Cubs).

One weekend my dad offered to bet me a nickel that the Yankees would be leading the game 1-0 at the end of the third inning. A strangely specific bet, but I thought my odds were pretty good so I took it. 

When the Yankees were at bat at the top of the third inning the score was 0-0. I felt extremely confident, so I kept betting more and more, until I was risking the hefty sum of $2.50 (money I didn’t have) against my dad’s fifty-five cents.  (I gave him odds, as the game progressed.)

What could possibly go wrong?  Merely a Yankee solo home run, with two outs, in the top of the third inning.

I lost the bet, and was devastated thinking about the hours I would have to pull weeds or perform other chores to earn the money I now owed to my father. An hour later Dad innocently said, “Didn’t Mom tell you?  I had advance information.” My father had known the outcome of the game and had lured me into betting against him to teach me a lesson. 

 He did. 

Perhaps the intended lesson was that I shouldn’t gamble. But at the tender age of eight, I felt as if my father had cheated me, and learned, basically, not to trust my dad.  

And the last time I bet on anything was more than thirty years ago in Las Vegas when I bet $5,000 on the Super Bowl. My team was covering the spread until late in the game. And that’s why I’ve never bet on a sporting event since.

After all, I sit at the gaming table of real estate, five days a week. 

Alan 

Years ago I attended a musical performance at the Ahmanson theater in Los Angeles. About ten minutes into the show, a song that seemed to have racist undertones made me uncomfortable. I told my parents and my wife that I would meet them in the lobby after the show. Maybe my leaving the theater was an act of protest, but also, I found it hard to enjoy a performance that offended me.

And because a ticket is an option, not an obligation, I felt it was not only appropriate to leave, but the right thing to do. Fifteen minutes later my family decided to join me in the lobby.

While I might have purchased a ticket to the show, I was not obligated to stay. I can leave early or stay home and not attend the performance in the first place.

I remind myself of this concept when I am reading a book or watching a movie that isn’t holding my attention. While I might have purchased the book, I’m not obligated to spend any more of my time reading it if it isn’t worthwhile.

This applies to theater tickets and to other investments. Years ago, I was on vacation in Mexico, and I wasn’t enjoying myself. I decided to end the vacation early and head home.
My mom was aghast. “But you have pre-paid reservations at expensive hotels for the next four nights,”

That was true, but just because I had paid in advance for something does not obligate me to use it. There are many unread books on my library shelves.

This concept applies to every aspect of our lives.

Early in my career, I purchased a shopping center in San Dimas. The shopping center turned out to be a nightmare. There were non-stop problems with the tenants and, despite valiant efforts, it was an ongoing headache to manage. After several years of trouble, I decided to walk away at a significant loss. My time was valuable, and I refused to invest further in a center that was never going to bring me anything more than meager returns and many struggles.

Because every moment of life is a gift, we should make choices about how we spend our time accordingly.  If you’re in a relationship that is unhappy, or working in a career that is unsatisfying, maybe you should consider moving on. I encourage you to make the most of your life because it is precious and short!

Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to rooting for the Dodgers in the World Series.  I checked, and they are not playing in San Dimas.

Alan