Lunch with Norman Lear

Ok. So. One day years ago I had lunch with Norman Lear at his vacation home in Vermont, formerly owned by Robert Frost, and then the famous abstract artist Kenneth Noland (look him up if you don't know his work). It's a beautiful place adjacent to a state forest. The photo here is Norman standing at one of the doors. We ate outside on the porch. Sunny. Perfect temperature of about 70 degrees, with a light breeze. I think we had sandwiches and various picnic salads fixed by his chef and staff. I could hardly focus on what I was eating. Because, hey, it was Norman Lear. Sitting two feet away from me. Maybe three. Creator of All in the Family, The Jeffersons, Sanford and Sons, Good Times, Maude, and on and on, while also funding and producing movies like This is Spinal Tap, The Princess Bride, and Fried Green Tomatoes. And in his spare time founding People for the American Way, among other organizations. I later had lunch with him at a Las Vegas hotel dining room, and later still at the Biltmore Hotel in Montecito, California. The food was always good, I think, but it's the talk I remember. And one day, walking through the kitchen in his Brentwood Hills LA home, The kitchen staff was cooking up something really great, but I had to be somewhere else. You know philosophy. Always something. Busy, busy.

But back to the vacation house. We had a nice little lunch party. Norman and me, along with the then Dean of the Harvard Divinity School and his wife, and Tom and Kate Chappell, married founders of Tom's of Maine, the eco friendly personal care products company. The six of us laughed a lot. I was pretty funny. Norman wasn't bad, either. I remember that Fed Ex pulled up with a package about every fifteen minutes, and he got a phone message about every five minutes, all of which he waved off until somebody important was "calling from the plane" and he had to absent himself for a few minutes. Hollywood. 

After lunch, Norman invited me to take a walk with him, just the two of us, to talk. We ended up lying in the grass in his huge front yard and pondering life and creativity and the spirit. He said, "It took me a long time to realize the importance of ethics and spirituality in life, and that if you don't get these two things right, you'll not likely get anything else right." That was pretty profound, and deeply true. He also asked me if being creative ever made me romantically frisky. But he used other words. I said, "Hmm. I never thought about it, but I guess so. How about you, Norman?" He said, "All the time, Tom. All the time."

Ethics. Spirituality. Creativity. And other stuff.

I've got many more stories from that and other lunches, but I should sign off now. I'm feeling creative.

On Life, Age, Loss, Joy, and Learning

Oh, my. If you have 7 minutes and 44 seconds—and who doesn't, unless you happen to be on the wrong side of a firing squad right now, and if that's true, then get off this blog for crying out loud—and if you want a major blessing today—and who doesn't, including anyone facing that firing squad, especially given the fact that it could delay the dreaded action by 7 minutes and 44 seconds, PLEASE watch this short video on my old buddy Norman Lear, where you'll learn how dancing naked in front of a mirror at age 93 just might be the secret to longevity, you'll be delighted, and entertained, and made to think about television today, and age, and loss, and learning.

Click this: http://nyti.ms/29xbgRt And then come back here if you'd like.

I first met Norman when I was 39 and he was 69. I was just beginning to do philosophy beyond the classrooms of Notre Dame, out in the broader world, and we had made contact by telephone. Can you imagine what it was like for a kid who grew up watching All in the Family and debating the issues it raised around the living room to come back to my office one day after a class and press the answering machine and hear, "Tom! This is Norman Lear! Here's my home phone number. Give me a call!" I was just astonished.

Shortly after a bunch of great phone calls, he sent me plane tickets to come visit him at his beautiful vacation house in Vermont, an old home once owned by Robert Frost, then by the abstract artist Kenneth Noland. Its grounds are adjacent to a state forest and are as peaceful as you can imagine. I spent most of a day sitting on the big front porch with Norman and the Dean of the Harvard Divinity School and his wife, and with the co-founders of Tom's of Maine, one of the most ethically and environmentally sensitive consumer products companies of our time. We philosophized all day, and through a great lunch. Mid afternoon, Norman asked me to talk a short walk with him. We ended up lying in the grass on his spacious front lawn, pondering life and creativity. And we laughed a lot.

Then, a short time later, he brought a bunch of television producers to see me speak in front of my first audience of over 5,000 people—all convenience store owners at their national meeting in Las Vegas. We had lunch afterwards and since I was going to speak the next day to the top leadership of Merrill Lynch at a retreat in Santa Barbara, Norman invited me to fly to California with him on his plane, where the conversation continued. He got off in LA and let me have the G4 for the rest of the ride to my destination, and then came up the next day to hear that talk as well, on a different topic. I was due to go to LA for a third presentation the following day, so he offered to take me back with him. We talked and napped and talked more in the back of his limo. Then, after a visit at his amazing home in Brentwood, his driver took me to my next speaking event.

Norman played a big role in my life during those days, with his cheerful encouragement and belief in what I was starting to do as a public philosopher. He helped give me the confidence to leave university life and launch out on an adventure that was in its inception, and even now, nearly unprecedented for an academically trained philosopher in our time. Whenever I was with him, his assistants were taking calls constantly, and Fed Ex was delivering packages every few minutes, it seemed. But I never felt like I had only a fleeting sliver of his attention. His gift to me included full presence, full focus, and uninterrupted conversation of the liveliest and most probing sort. I try to remember that whenever a young person just starting his or her own adventure wants to talk—for advice, wisdom, or just encouragement.

We've kept in touch over the years, in fits and starts. He's called me several times about possibly getting involved in something he was doing. He's made me think, and made me laugh. I just love hearing his voice. Norman turns 94 on July 27. And he's still creating. He has a new show upcoming on Netflix, as well as a documentary of his life about to come out. Happy Birthday, old friend. Continue to learn and dance and create!

Norman Lear: A Study in Serendipity

First, I want to recommend to everyone Norman Lear's great new autobiography, Even This I Get to Experience, which is not just about one extremely successful life, but is about so much more in addition - family, childhood, choices, struggles, the rise of modern television, Hollywood, movies, politics, and what it means to be an American, in a time when most have forgotten.

I met Norman when I was 39 and he was 69. I was still a professor at Notre Dame, focusing on philosophy of religion, and he was doing a new TV comedy that would broach religious issues, a show called Sunday Dinner. I watched the first episode and dialed the Los Angeles Operator and asked for Act III Communications, the name of the production company I'd seen in the credits at the end of the show. She said, "There are about 16 numbers." I said, "Can you give me the first 3?" She did, and I left 3 voice mail messages about that first show. 

A few days later, I came to my office after teaching Philosophy 101, and there were some voice mail messages on my phone. A student wanted to get into my class. My wife asked me to pick up milk and bread on my way home, and a voice said, "Tom! This is Norman Lear! Here's my home phone number. Call me!" And then he left the number.

This was the man who had created and produced All in the Family - the TV show that my family watched every week and argued about when I was growing up. Then he created Sanford and Sons, The Jeffersons, One Day at a Time, Good Times, Maude, Mary Hartman Mary Hartman, and Fernwood2night. The string of hits in the 1970s was unprecedented in television history. Then he brought such movies to the world as This Is Spinal Tap, Stand By Me, The Princess Bride and Fried Green Tomatoes. I called him, and we had a great time talking. Soon, we were sending each other books and videos and I was at his vacation house in Vermont, a farm once owned by Robert Frost, and then the abstract artist Kenneth Noland, before Lear bought it. Then he came to see me speak in Las Vegas and Montecito, and I visited his home in LA. Over the days and months and years, we talked about possible TV shows and books and talks and ideas for making the world a better place.

And, even though he told me lots of stories about his life, I never knew how many failures he had on his way to success, and even after his biggest achievements. He had many. He lived through daunting struggles, nearly overwhelming challenges, and the disappointments we all face. And they never stopped him, or even really slowed him down.

But the thing about this new book that surprised me the most is how often in his life serendipity, or amazing good luck, seemed to smile on him. Astounding coincidences of timing would lead to many of the most wonderful things in his life. I've written all through the book's margins expressions like "Kismet! Timing!" And I asked myself: How could one man be so lucky?

And when I thought about it more, I realized that it was always his decisions to keep moving, to try things, to meet people, to be open to something new, to visit someone, to make a call, and to always do whatever task was in front of his with total passion and excellence that put him in the position for extraordinary luck to strike. Nothing was too small for him to approach it inventively. Nothing was too big for him to decide to give it a try. It was his day to day decisions that put him in the path of serendipity.

Our ordinary decisions position us for the extraordinary to occur. Or they make it impossible for luck to find us at all.

What are you doing to invite serendipity into your life? I called Norman Lear's production company out of the blue one day, many years ago, and now I'm 62 and he's 92 and we still talk now and then, and I get inspired by his continued energy and intellect. Go read his book and experience your own inspiration! Amazing things await.