There's no doubt about it: The title of legendary actor Alan Alda's new autobiography "Never Have Your Dog Stuffed" is a snappy one that's sure to catch your eye. And while it's true that Alda did have his dog stuffed at one point during the storied journey through his life and acting career, it's the subtitle of the book, "And Other Things I've Learned," that holds the greatest significance.

The interesting thing is, while Alda is one of our most celebrated performers, the book isn't so much about his acting career as it about the events that occurred in and around the jobs that informed his evolving career.

"In a funny way, that's why the acting jobs are even mentioned in the book at all," Alda told me in a recent interview. "It's about me learning to learn and to go with change. You really have to do that with acting. If you don't go with change, then nothing happens. You're not reciting your lines -- or you're doing some stereotypical thing that you had done before.

"But to be alive you've got to be willing to change and not be something that you were a second ago," Alda added.

"Never Have Your Dog Stuffed" (Random House) provides an intimate look into the 69-year-old actor's life. Among a myriad of topics, we learn details from his childhood about his father, Robert Alda, a burlesque player, stage and film actor -- and about the travails of growing up with a mother who suffered from mental illness.

The book also recounts Alda's time as a struggling Broadway performer, as well as his work in films and television, including the classic series "M*A*S*H," the educational series "American Scientific Frontiers," the Oscar-nominated epic "The Aviator" and the hit series "The West Wing."

The interesting thing about the book is that a good half of it covers his life before his success as an actor/filmmaker -- and what a life it has been.

"It's been a very bizarre life -- a strange life. I've gone through so many strange things that I've adapted to. Carl Reiner read the book and said, 'You know you're entitled to be a lot crazier than you are,'" Alda mused.

Despite how crazy things were, though, Alda never uses his tome as an opportunity to say, "Poor me." Rather, it's a celebration of the things that happened to him before a near-fatal intestinal blockage in Chile -- and the new outlook that came about as a result of it.

"When the strange things happened, I had to fight my way out of them and figure my way out of them," Alda recalled. "But I don't think I'd trade in any of the experiences I've had for anything else because I got something out of it. In a way, those are the lessons I'm talking about that's in the subtitle 'And Other Things I've Learned.' (I asked myself) 'What did I learn from that life that happened to me before I nearly died in Chile so I can get the most out of the new life that I have?' These last two years have maybe been the happiest years of my life."

Adapting And Observing

Growing up in a family that was always on the move, perhaps the greatest thing Alda learned to do in his formative years that has helped him throughout adulthood was how to adapt to new situations. Among other things, he tells how he learned to fit in as an outcast at Catholic school, how he learned to wait by the bully's mailbox for the school bus every day (instead of his own to avoid getting punched out), and overall, just learning to adapt to an unstable household and living in new places as the son of an entertainer on the move.

Perhaps Alda's ability to adapt has kept him from being typecast after playing the iconic Capt. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce for 11 years on the television classic "M*A*S*H." Few could argue against the fact that since the series came to an end in 1983, Alda continues to redefine himself as an actor with every new role he plays.

"I really have played a lot of different kinds of people, and I don't seem to have been pigeonholed in one kind of part," Alda observed. "What's interesting to me about that is, that it came about not by some deliberate plan, but just by doing what was in front of me.

"You would think, in order to been seen in different things, you'd have to deliberately do different things and try to keep surprising people," Alda continued. "Maybe I should have done that, but I didn't. That's just not the way I work. I think that would be putting too much into planning instead of doing -- and it's more fun for me to do it instead of plan it. That seems to have worked for me."

As a child of an actor, Alda often found himself in a "Forrest Gump"-like state of existence as an ordinary person in extraordinary circumstances, watching not only his father and his fellow burlesque performers perform from the wings, but other legends like Bela Lugosi, Mae West, Buster Keaton and Blackstone the Magician. Smartly, he soaked up every moment of it.

"That was my education in the theater, watching from the wings," Alda told me. "I think most people don't appreciate what you learn, by watching from the side. It's really the angle you're watching it from. They're performing for the audience, the actors, and you're seeing from the side -- a different angle -- and you're very close to them because you're only a couple of feet away. You see what they go through to create the illusion for the audience in a way that you can't see from the audience."

While watching from the wings was an informative process from Alda, he does admit it was an unorthodox way of learning the craft.

"It's very instructive, and really, was all the training that I had to become an actor. I don't recommend that to people," Alda said. "I think people should study acting formally, but I didn't, partly because I was too poor to afford classes. But whether you study to perform or not, if you can find a way to stand in the wings to watch actors hundreds of times, that's really valuable."

Oddly enough, Alda reveals in the book that he didn't realize that he wanted to be an actor until he was 9 years old. But long before that, he was very observant of people; a method of learning that any experienced actor will tell you is a necessity. Alda's neccessity, however, was to stay one step ahead of his unstable mother.

"Thank goodness I had the capacity to (observe), because my mother was psychotic and I had to watch her really carefully to make sure I was going to be OK," Alda recalled. "I was on my own a lot because she didn't see the world other people did. So I had to figure out when she told me something, whether it was real, or just her reality. I was able to do that, from very early on. That was one of the benefits from having a mother who was mentally ill -- that I got to be very good at reading people."

Alda said addressing his mother's mental illness in the book wasn't cathartic for him, since he's been open about it before. But that's not to say there was a time in his life where he didn't keep the secret close to the vest.

"I think it was 25 or 30 years ago before I could say it out loud -- even to friends. It was a transition for me to say it in public." Alda recalled. "It was opening a door for me because it was a secret all of my life. And it wasn't just because I was secretive or my family was secretive. In those days, nobody talked about it. You were ashamed if you had mental illness in your family. It makes it hard for everybody. It makes it hard for the person who's ill, and it makes it hard for the family, because the only way you can cope with it is to talk about it and figure out little strategies for dealing with it when it erupts."

One person Alda was open to about his mother's mental illness right away was Arlene, his wife of 48 years. The book talks about Alda and his wife's relationship, too, as well as their family, which consists of three daughters.

And now, the family man, who refused to uproot his family from New Jersey and commuted back and forth from there to Los Angeles to film "M*A*S*H" for 11 years, is watching his daughters raise their families, and he's enjoying every minute.

That's because among all the things Alan Alda has learned, the most important thing is that family comes first.

"I get the greatest pleasure of my life from being with them and going through the stages with them of their development," Alda said, humbly. "And my own development never stops. That's the fun of being alive."