Warren's Wisdom

 I have long admired Warren Buffett, and not only for his investing prowess. He's such a cool, folksy guy, and the supplier of so much sage life advice.

He was long married, and also had a long term mistress. The three of them agreed divorce would be silly and costly and complicated -- so they all became friends, and the wife lived in a gorgeous Malibu Estate until she died. I think the mistress is still alive.

When my friends and I visited Omaha, where we stayed for a Canes/Huskers game, I made sure to visit Warren's fairly modest house. We also ate at The Drover, one of his favorite steak places. I asked the waitress if she served the Wizard, and she said all of the time. Was he a good tipper? The best, she assured us, which is classic Warren. He doesn't waste money on himself, but is VERY philanthropic and generous to others.

I'm pretty sure he drives daily to McDonalds for breakfast. I used to do that after my workouts, too, until the Ds put a stop to it, in hopes I might eat a bit healthier and stick around for grandparenting duties.

Anyway, today a short video of Warren somehow made its way to my FaceBook account. Actually, I know exactly how: the AI of FaceBook knows what I like, and sends me tons of Sopranos, Breaking Bad, Jewish stuff, and 70s rock and roll. I also get lots of Warren.

The video was of Warren lecturing to a group of students, and he gave them simple and sage advice: think of your 5 best friends, and write down the 5 things you admire most about them. Then think of the 5 people in your life you like the least, and write down the 5 things you like least about them.

Now you'll have 25 positive qualities, and 25 negative. All you need to do for a better life is to try to live more in the good 25, and avoid the bad 25. Splendidly simple and elegant advice.

I realized I've been doing this at least since high school. My Dad was my biggest hero, and I tried to be most like him -- putting family first, taking care of business to support us, and always being the "family psychiatrist," as he liked to say.

When I got to UM, I realized I brought with me a heavy Long Island accent, and I didn't like it. I met several Midwestern guys, and realized I wanted to sound more like them and less like the sweathogs I grew up with. And so I set about to do so.

Today, I don't sound Midwestern, but I do sound far less Long Island than I did in 1979. For that, I mostly thank the Marks -- two major stoners I lived with freshman year -- one from Cincinatti and one from New Castle, Indiana. The first became a radiologist in Broward, and the second disappeared to the winds. But I took qualities from them I liked.

Wifey and I had linner today, at Flanagans. After a marital pedicure, we walked to Flanagan's, where the only time there isn't a long wait is around 3, when we visited. We talked about toxic people.

Wifey had to endure toxicity from her beloved mother, who she loved, but was often very difficult. Still, Wifey fulfilled her duty to care for her, often coming home exhausted from her visits.

I told her some of the qualities I can't stand in the people I DON'T admire are negative attitudes, and the "I coulda been a contenda" explanation about why their lives turned out badly. I also can't abide envy.

Wifey reminded me I never was envious. When we bought our first tiny house, for $86K, we used to ride our bikes north of 124th Street, where there were houses probably worth $250K or so, on bigger lots, with larger living areas. We never said "Bastard rich people," but rather "Wow -- maybe someday we'll be able to afford a house like this."

I still feel this way. When the Ds visit amazing friends places on the Bay or ocean, I think -- wow -- how cool for those folks -- never "Why don't I have a place like that?"

My old friend Stuart used to love the quote that if Bill Gates woke up one day with Oprah's money, he'd have to jump out of a window -- how could he deal with being that poor -- a mere billionaire, maybe.

But back to Warren -- a man who is an expert of stock, precisely because he always TAKES stock -- of his life. Long may he run -- to 120 --as the Italians say.

Meanwhile, as I age, I need to do more of the same -- who to leave in, and who to leave out, or at least devote less mental real estate to.

It's simple wisdom.