What Then, What Now?

So, when I was driving home from the office on March 12, 2020, and KSPN radio reported that an NBA game in Salt Lake City was cancelled just before tip off, I blinked. And when Covid-19’s official 2020 U.S. arrival happened a week later, I gulped.

I took the nasty piece of deadly infectious microbe seriously, fearfully, and…personally too. And I’m mostly of Sicilian heritage and that’s my weak-ish story on explaining an infrequent vengeful moment. But what’s fair about something being invisible and transmissible without symptoms?

I’d practiced dentistry since way back during early mid Disco and the Carter Administration, having never taken more than a week’s vacation at a time (okay, so there was ONE three-week trip to Italy). Then on Monday March 16, 2020, I awakened just in time for a 5AM East Coast Zoom conference/pep talk on how Temple City Dental Care could survive being closed for the next 90-days.

I looked to the sky for some input straight outta the Universe. The Universe was pre-occupied. And maybe the Universe is overrated. The message I’d already generated to myself in response to the freakin pandemic was maybe it was time to finally turn in my high-speed electric handpiece (drill) and call it a career. When we returned after three months, some important people had changed. Some of the joy was missing. I didn’t like wearing a shield and a gown. I sold what had become my home away from home of 46-years two years later.

After the Golden Years (when Pete Carroll was coaching USC Trojan Football), and retired patients would come in looking relaxed while explaining they were busier than ever, I rationalized that most of ‘em were Baby Boomers like me, and with more free time and probably higher weed dosage. I couldn’t relate, maybe because I grew up in the 60s and clearly remembered the decade.

So now it’s been more than three years since I last approached a supine human being trying to feel comfortable in a reclining chair. And I’m realizing my Boomer buddies were right, and not necessarily high. It’s like the batting order has changed. The stuff I want to do is non-negotiable. But the stuff I need to do, I still need to do because I choose to do it.

Everything seemed simple back during the planning stage. I was gonna read, write, walk the land, and become the chronologically most mature golfer to ever reach scratch status. And okay, the golf thing has proven effort isn’t everything and the outdoor journey isn’t always joyful (although carrying a 40-pound bag up and down hills for 16,000 steps ain’t bad for your health if you can do it. And yeah, I’m counting my steps these days; I did 4.6 million in 2024.)

Walking with or without a bag of sticks takes time. And respectively, one exercise has been good for my physical health, while adding the sticks seems to be sabotaging my emotional intelligence. I’ve needed to organize my time, and the challenge to do so is the greatest for me since the mid-60s and a Year One, Q1 college GPA of 2.13.

And reading takes time too; for me, at least 90 minutes per day. And considering the current state of the nation, and my mentoring high school students interested in health science and service, leading an Invisalign study club, contributing inspirational quotes and a video commentary going out to 600 dental practices M-F, and starting a new business with my best friend (training dental assistants), I needed some structure.

I am not naturally endowed with the power to manage or create structure. I have to try harder (like when I used to arrive 2 hours before the first patient.) And I know it’s a little “cringe” these days, but like I’ve already shared, I love books. Like Hal Elrod’s The Miracle Morning and Admiral William McRaven’s Make My Bed. It also helps that, like 25 years ago, I learned all about tennis giant Pete Sampras’ competitive rituals at a physical/sports psychology center in Orlando, Florida. Pete’s routines helped him cultivate a consistent mental toughness under pressure.

Put the previous paragraph altogether and you have the makings of my morning ritual. And I don’t think I’m that neurotic, but most likely I’d be last one to know. One other thing, I’ve created my own deadline for this article after convincing myself if I meet it before Saturday, USC will defeat Notre Dame at South Bend on October 18. Here we go!

I wake up at 5:30 am, make my bed (Admiral McRaven), do the “S, S, and S” thing and gain momentum as I travel downstairs, where I turn on the air purifier (purchased during the Altadena fire). And here’s where things might seem to be getting…odd. I gently stretch to expand my chest, wipe my glasses, kiss a coin that says “Be a Badass” (given to me by a 4 year old “niece”), high five a Tremor bobblehead from the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes (a single A minor league Dodger farm club), and briefly fit my right index finger into a ring I received for writing out a column for 75 consecutive days. Then here comes monitoring my blood pressure, to be journaled daily. Then, I release my daily quote and video commentary to my brother and sister Invisalign colleagues of the mighty and lasting American Academy of Clear Aligners!

I’m not done yet! And it’s not even 6:30 am.

I down my supplements and give myself 30 minutes to go down the IG rabbit hole, checking my posts and seeking opportunities to talk/type trash.

Out the door, water the plants (every three days in October), and down the street armed with a book (usually a crime novel- I love stories that teach trash talking, critical thinking, and hopefully improve my understanding of the current administration.) It’s a 6 mile walk with an hour Peet’s Coffee intermission for reading while sipping…a Havana Cappuccino. On the way to Peet’s I recite my litany of gratitude and then a list of all the authors I’ve read (there are probably more than the 90-100 I can remember.) I think the neighbors, and motorists driving down California Blvd are unphased by the sight of just another guy walking around talking to himself. The walk back home takes about an hour, assisted by the Daily or Weekly Shows with Jon Stewart & Co. It's 10:30-11 am, I've got the whole day ahead of me...and I'm relaxed, but not stoned.

The way my golf has deteriorated with more practice, I might be holding my nose (used to play lots of tennis) and playing pickleball more than once a month. But one thing I know for sure; I’ve met my deadline and given my Trojans their best chance to win on Saturday.

See you in South Bend. Fight on!