Author: Manny Kagan

The old revered Rabbi was dying. All of his disciples gathered around his bed standing in line in the order of importance. Suddenly, the guy at the end of the line requested to ask the teacher about the meaning of life, before his last breath. This request was passed from one disciple to the other until the question reached the Rabbi. He opened his eyes and with great effort and said, “Life is like a river”. The Rabbi’s reply was passed back, until it reached the guy who asked the question. “But what does it mean that life is like a river?” He questioned again. When this question reached the Rabbi, with his last effort he responded, “Well, then it is not like a river.”

 

I was privileged to live with three mothers. My mother, who gave me birth and with whom I lived until I got married at the age of 20. We called her Mama Liza. My wife’s mother (I do not like the term mother-in-law) with whom I lived together after Elfa and I married, who immigrated with us to Israel and to San Francisco, until she passed years later. We called her Mama Masha. Lastly, my wife Elfa— the mother of our two daughters, Alona and Tamar.

Mama Liza became a schoolteacher when I started the first grade. She taught first graders as well, but not at my school. She commuted for an hour by bus to her work. At the end of the day, she brought the children’s homework home in her big briefcase, and different items that she confiscated from her students. I in turn would “confiscate” from her: pocket knives, whistles, and flashlights to barter with my friends. Later on when my brother Aron was born, she went back to school (while working) and became a biology teacher. I would go with her to the public library and copy articles and DNA graphs from the books for her studies. Then our sister Rosa was born. Mom survived World War II working on a farm that grew watermelons. (She couldn’t look at them afterwards.) Life was never easy, but I had a happy childhood.  It didn’t matter what happened, my Mom would say “Budet harasho”—everything will be good. I learned from her to be a perpetual optimist. For many years when someone asks me how I am doing, my response is “always good”.

 

Believe it or not, you are actually a nice person—and so am I. I found out about this while on a plane to Phoenix, Arizona for an InfusionSoft ICON conference. A woman sitting on the plane diagonally in front of me was reading The Wall Street Journal. I noticed the headline of article—“We Actually Get Nicer With Age”. Wow! What a revelation!

When we reached our hotel, The Wall Street Journal lay in front of our room’s door  (miracles do happen). According to the article, “from the age of 20 to 65, people report an increase in positive traits, such as conscientiousness, and decreases in negative traits such as neuroticism”. Of course, “nicer” is a relative term. It is like beauty “in the eyes (heart) of the beholder”.

But, what happens after the age of 65 (I am 67)? I have met some grouchy older people, but I think that in their core, people are nice. The question is “Do we want to change?” Most of us are comfortable with our status quo, even when others might not like it. When my wife, Elfa, points out my shortcomings to me, I often do not like her criticism, but in my heart I know that she is right. (You know the platinum rule: “The wife is always right”, right?) But can I change? My common response to her is if I do what you suggest, I am going to become Elfa—not Manny. In the business, it is sometimes easier to just change externally by finding new ways to market without changing who we are (since I am already a nice person).

MeetUP Event Next Thursday (5/8)! Our Guest speaker is Mary Jung, Director of Government & Community Relations at San Francisco Association of REALTORS. Click through the flyer for more details!

MeetUP: Ellis Act

 

 

Someone asked if Cubans are happy—the answer is “Yes.” Many of my photographs reveal them smiling for no particular reason. Are they content? The answer is “No”.

Meager government salaries and very low pensions do not allow Cubans to have many possessions. When some Cubans could leave Cuba for the United States in the 80’s, those who chose to stay pelted them with eggs. Now those who stayed are very happy to receive any help from their “rich” relatives. When the Cuban government gave the Cuban people the opportunity to have their own small enterprises, they opened stores, and even restaurants (sometimes in doorways, many started having prepared food in their kitchens).  

For tourists, there are many well-decorated establishments with good food; many restaurants and hotels are joint ventures between the Cuban government and foreign companies. Despite the exodus, Havana’s population is between 2.5 and 3.1 million; the streets are full not only with tourists, but also, with locals who stand in line to buy ice cream or a pizza from these tiny doorway enterprises. And it seems, everyone is happy.

When I photographed people in Cuba, and they noticed me, they would both pose and smile, or I would just smile at them with a thumbs up. Their response was always “Muchas gracías”.  I showed them the image I took on my camera’s display screen, and they seemed even happier. Some asked for money, so I either did not photograph them or I gave them my camera to photograph me and asked them for the dollar. This trick made instant friends and afterwards they posed for me with pleasure. To make them more relaxed, I sometimes stick out my tongue or make faces to get back a lot of laughter.

There is a chapter in the great book, “Psycho-Cybernetics” by Dr. Maxwell Maltz, titled “Happiness Does Not Lie in the Future, But in The Present”.

            “When one problem is solved, another appears to take its place. Life is a series of problems. If you are to be happy at all, you must be happy – period! Not happy ‘because of’.”

Who cares if I am happy or not? Well according to Dr. Maltz, “Happiness is good medicine.” He writes, “We think better, perform better, feel better, and are healthier when we are happy. Even our physical sense organs work better.”

Choose to be happy.

 

On our way to Los Angeles to celebrate Passover with our daughter Tamar, we listened to the book by Alexander McCall Smith called “The Unbearable Lightness of Scones”, which we had borrowed from the San Francisco Public Library. This is the last one in his series about different people living in Edinburg, Scotland. Over the years, we’ve listened to many of his books, including a series of novels titled, “No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency”. Regardless of the plot, the characters, or the geographic location, all of his books share the concept of how to be charitable to other people. Most of us associate the word charity with the giving of money. McCall Smith is talking about the sharing of the goodness of your heart.

I was thinking about the word “charitable” as we were driving through Los Angeles. Heavy traffic and congestion make people tense and nervous. Some cross in front of each other, while others change lanes without signaling. I was not surprised to hear Tamar’s verbal reaction, which was not very charitable. I did not like it, but I realized that I often did the same (both in driving and expressing myself toward other drivers).