Reacting To Rita

Our country was stunned at the devastation Hurricane Katrina brought to our southern shores. Sorrowful tears were shed for loss of life, homes, and the trauma survivors had endured. In the midst of misery, I also shed tears of joy for the inspiring stories of hope and survival that the media seldom chose to broadcast. After witnessing so much despair, I found myself yearning for more of the heartwarming newscasts. I simply needed to catch my breath every so often. Unfortunately, those reports were few and far between.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Hurricane Rita began her trek into the gulf coast waters. Was this deja vu? Mother Nature had spawned yet another wicked daughter, and she was following nearly the same path as her evil sister. As Rita moved closer to the coast, I began to panic. Forecasters predicted her probable landfall, and this time I had several family members in harm's way. A niece and a daughter were in the Houston area. My great-nephew was in Beaumont, and they were all in the storm's ferocious line of fire.

Evacuating before "the last minute," they all rode out the storm in north Texas, avoided the congested highways, and fortunately returned to homes intact. Kyle, in Beaumont, did return to a home with no fence, no electricity, and no water. Considering their location they fared well. They managed with generators, bottled water, and even military rations for a short time.

But just what does a senior in high school do at this point? He could have lazed in the swimming pool while complaining he was bored, hot, and most of his friends had not yet been able to return home. Instead, this young man printed up business cards, invoices, and even had the wherewithal to note he was not insured or bonded. He and one buddy began looking for jobs. Yards were strewn with debris, and huge trees were ripped out of the ground as if they were twigs. It would not be easy work, but they jumped in headfirst. Out of Rita's rampage and with a resourceful mind, B & B Service was born.

Then it struck me! Could these "young businessmen" possibly know how to price work of this nature? When in doubt - I learned that you simply ask! How simple is that? They have not given one estimate; instead they have asked homeowners to determine the job's worth. Luckily, very few people have tried to take advantage of these eager, young entrepreneurs. For that I am thankful, as working with chain saws is serious business no matter how experienced someone might be. Not to mention, the working conditions were miserable with stifling humidity and heat above 100 degrees.

Kyle's partner gave up the grueling work after two weeks, but word was out about this prospering new venture. Applicants were clamoring for the job; and before the day was over, B & B Service was fully staffed and going strong. Business was booming!

One job consisted of clearing three entire lots of tumbled, twisted trees and hauling them away. Something of that magnitude needed equipment B & B didn't have at the ready. Kyle's father said he chuckled when he overheard his son's phone conversation - Kyle was wheeling and dealing for the use of someone's 4X4. He evidently knew he couldn't possibly estimate the hours involved. Therefore he wasn't about to rent by the hour. Instead, he negotiated a percentage of the job cost. An agreement was made, and the chain saws began buzzing.

For most of us, fond memories of high school days linger with us for a lifetime. Sadly, Kyle's memories will begin with the sudden death of his mother and the struggles endured as he dealt with his grief. If that weren't enough, other stumbling blocks were tossed in his face, and all this while he was just an adolescent - still really a child. For a time I could see him heading down the wrong road, full speed ahead, and could only hope he'd eventually slam on the brakes. Finally this past year, positive changes began to emerge.

Then Rita plowed into his life! She was brutal, yet she seems to be the cause of Kyle making a major, positive decision about his future. "Enough! No more obstacles are going to get me down." When Rita's angry, threatening winds launched lemons, Kyle saw the opportunity to make lemonade, and I had a "sneak peek" at the makings of the man he will become. Oh, I smiled - I like what I see...

This story is dedicated to my niece, Dana, Kyle's mother.

Kathleene S. Baker

You can email Kathleene at: Lnstrlady@aol.com or visit her website: www.txyellowrose.com

The Gift Of Magic

One Christmas, years ago, I got a call to do a magic show on Christmas Eve at a family home in Halihi. A little girl there was ill with cancer.

December is my busiest month and I was pretty tired from working overtime, but the Uncle who called me was persistent and phoned several days running, so I gave them a very reasonable quote and tried to figure out how to do a portable version of my stage show.

When I got there, no one was ready ("Filipino time" they told me), there were 9 children and adults coming. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to figure a way to do as much of my show in this small downstairs room as I could. Why not, it was Christmas Eve.

My screens were brought in and set up. It was very tight.

The people came in with a beautiful little 9 year old girl, not even in a real wheelchair, just a regular wooden chair with caster wheels attached. Bald from Chemotherapy and with an oxygen tube to help her breath.

Her eyes were very pretty, wide and attentive. She seemed as excited as the other children though less active. I understood this would be perhaps her last Christmas on earth with her family.

I did my regular show with energy and a smile on my face though inside my heart was sinking. I was just wishing there was something more I could do. I felt like I was on autopilot, part of me standing back and watching. I did all the jokes and bits of business that make people laugh that I'd learned over my lifetime.

These people needed joy. They responded heartily and with tremendous warmth. For a moment everyday reality was less important, (that is the gift of the entertainer I guess.) For once, I was not just "Happy to get everything to work," but very humbled.

Afterwards as they went to food and conversation, I packed everything away to get back and close down the house for my folks who had their own physical issues to deal with. Here it was Christmas Eve and I was surrounded by mortality, yet I think God let me share what I could do and showed me sometimes it really makes a difference.

I could have used the money I suppose, but they certainly needed it more. The last gift was pressing the $100 in loose bills back into the smiling Uncles' hand and saying "That's ok, I have nieces...Merry Christmas." His face lit up and he said "Oh! An honest man!" and went to tell his incredulous relatives. Maybe to him it seemed like a minor miracle. I had to turn away and leave quickly so he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes.

Seeing how you can do something that counts, isn't that the best gift someone can get? For me, it was the best Christmas gift I can remember.

***

This is a true story. I met a relative this past year and learned the little girl passed away not long after.

Every year and especially at Christmas I hope to do something for a family or Charity that can use what I do. My good friend and longtime assistant Cheryl is also gone due to breast Cancer. If you have any suggestions for things to benefit Cancer or Children's medical charities I am open to them.

Certainly go out of your way to do something for people who can really use your talent. Everyone is good at something. You may not always feel appreciated, but somehow, someway I suspect, you always are.

Mike Ching

To learn more about Mike go to www.mikechingmagic.com or email Mike at: mike@mikechingmagic.com

We Need More Character, Not Confessions

On the front page of the L.A. Times there's a photo of San Diego Congressman Randy "Duke" Cunningham tearfully confessing is guilt to bribery and tax evasion.

On an inside page of a local Southern California newspaper, the Daily Breeze, we're told that Paul Bryant, an assistant football coach at San Pedro High School with 23 years of service, was suspended for at least one year for blatant cheating. Bryant was caught on videotape moving the first-down marker to help his team advance into the state playoffs. After being confronted with the tape, he apologized, saying his decision to cheat was spontaneous and erroneous.

I cite these two examples of integrity failure not to equate them - Cunningham's violation was far worse - but to highlight the range and pervasiveness of corrupt thinking, the undeniable reality that everyone's character will be tested by temptations, the crucial importance of moral clarity and strength, and finally, the huge personal cost of dishonor.

Though Cunningham will go to jail, his plea bargain to limit his sentence to no more than 10 years is a good deal considering the 25-year terms imposed on execs at WorldCom, Adelphia, and Tyco - all the more so since he took more than $2 million in bribes, far and away the worst case in recent Congressional history. But what brought tears to his eyes was the recognition that he will serve a life sentence of shame for disgracing himself and his family.

Bryant's suspension from coaching is a significant penalty in the sporting world, but it's nothing compared to the humiliation of knowing he will be forever labeled as a teacher and coach who dishonored his team and school and embarrassed his friends and family by cheating to win a high school football game.

I suspect both men are truly sorry, and on a personal level I feel compassion for them and their families. The problem is: We don't need more criminal convictions; we need more moral convictions. We don't need more contrite confessions; we need more committed character.

Remember, character counts!

Michael Josephson
www.charactercounts.org

Why we don't eat Turnips...

My wife, Linda, and I hail from totally different cultures. Linda was from the southern regions of the US, Alabama and then Pensacola, Florida. I was from the North in Canada, a small place called Owen Sound.

So it should come as no surprise to anyone that we might have some very different ideas about things.

We discovered a rather remarkable difference early in our relationship while shopping together in the grocery store one day. As we strolled through the produce section, I told Linda, "I think I'd like to have a turnip with my dinner." She said, "Okay."

However, when she saw me standing there holding the turnip in my hand, she looked puzzled, and asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

"I'm gonna eat it!" I replied.

She shook her head in disgust and adamantly announced, "I'm not eating that! It's the root of the turnip. That's what we feed to the pigs!"

I was quite intrigued and asked, "What part of a turnip do you eat?"

"We eat the greens." She explained.

"Well, I don't think I've ever even seen the greens of a turnip." I replied. "But if I had I'm quite sure we'd feed that part to the pigs!"

At that point I wisely placed the turnip back in the bin and we went on our way. But then I began to think...When did all this begin? Who told me that I should eat the root of the turnip, and who told Linda that she should eat the greens? Did it begin with my mother? No. Did it begin with her mother? I think not.

How far back would I have to go to find out where those turnip eating customs began for my family in the first place? And how far back would we have to go in Linda's family to discover when they first began eating the greens? Of course, it really doesn't make any difference in the grand scheme of things, but the principle behind all this most certainly does.

Here we were, quite divided on the point of which part of the turnip to eat and which part to feed to the pigs. What other matters, large or small, were we just as adamant about? Let's face it - we all have strong opinions and customs that we hold, or should I say that hold us; and in most cases, we didn't even choose those opinions.

Fortunately for us, we resolved our differences over the root versus the greens easily enough...we just don't have turnips for dinner at our house! However, from that brief exchange, I realized that there are many other things just like that which I had accepted as part of my internalized beliefs. Think of the many opinions and customs that have been handed down to us, generation after generation, that become a deeply ingrained part of our psyche. They make up our paradigms and directly impact how we live our lives - right down to the way we dress, walk, talk, and eat!

You see, Linda and I came into this world without any opinions or prejudices of any kind regarding turnips. Our little minds were wide open and receptive, ready to accept and believe whatever we were told to be true. It's a small matter in the grand scheme of things, and our lives are not suffering any for the lack of turnips at the dinner table. But it is an interesting example of how we sometimes allow our paradigms to keep us from having something we really want.

The point is that it's the principle to be learned here that makes all the difference. This is vitally important to understand, because it is the paradigm which literally controls our life. This goes well beyond the language you speak, the way you dress, what you eat, or the way you comb your hair. This early conditioning creates paradigms about self-worth, about health and wealth, and it directly impacts the results we are getting in life. Paradigms are the reason we do things the way we do - they control our ideas about money, our social IQ, and affect the way we interact with our world at large.

I first learned about paradigms when an enormous change took place in my life 45 years ago. My income went from $4,000 a year to over a million; and without a formal education or business experience, that was not supposed to happen. Unlike many people might have been, I was not satisfied with my good fortune. I had to know why it happened or even what had happened. It took nine years of serious study to become aware of paradigms, what they are and how they work - I had actually changed my paradigm and when I did my whole life changed! That is how powerful paradigms can be in your life. I have been teaching people how to do what I did, how to change their paradigm for years in our coaching programs. You really can live the way you choose.

Here's what you want to ask yourself when a Turnip situation occurs in your life: Did I decide this or did I inherit this belief? Is it preventing me from experiencing and enjoying greater good in my life?

You see, paradigms are deeply rooted beliefs that have been impressed repeatedly upon our subconscious minds - often by other people and circumstances around us. Our paradigms are both genetic and environmental, but either way they are stubborn and strong; they really put up a fight when they are confronted by a new idea and it's quite likely that your paradigms have staked out their territory and convinced you to give up on a big idea or opportunity at some point in your life. Probably many times in your life. It's the paradigm - what I call the monkeys chattering in your head - that tells you all the reasons something can't be done and all the reasons you don't deserve the good you desire. They are the cause of people staying stuck in bad spots.

The sad truth is that, most of the time, it's nothing more than a false belief or premise which holds us back from living truly abundant and successful lives.

The really important questions begging to be answered are these: What big dreams and ambitions are you foregoing because a big new idea slammed up against your paradigm about success or wealth? How do you push past those paradigms? How do you move through the old conditioning in order to act on a new idea?

It all begins with awareness and understanding about the mind and how it works. The key lies in identifying the paradigms that may be holding you back, and then learning how to replace them with new ideas that will move you in the direction of your dreams.

In fact, I think it's time I begin enjoying turnips with my dinner once again. Perhaps I'll try eating the greens!

Bob Proctor

Are you ready to go after those big goals and dreams that have remained just beyond your grasp? Spend a year with me as your mentor and coach - I'll help you push through the old conditioning and beliefs and enjoy the life you love and truly want to live. Go to: www.bobproctorcoaching.com

A Boomerang World

As I was sitting outside this morning sipping my coffee and watching the sun climb over the horizon, I looked down and saw a curved stick on the ground that reminded me of a boomerang. Suddenly I was caught up in memories of me as a kid playing for hours on end in my grandfather's backyard with a small wooden boomerang he had given to me as a gift.

Remember when you were a kid, how fascinated you were with boomerangs? (At least I was) You take this flat, curved piece of wood and throw it and then watch in amazement as it curves around in the air and comes right back to you.

As "miraculous" as that seemed when we were kids, I've found that most of our life is like that. Whatever we "throw" out there, comes back to us.

We live in a "boomerang" world.

Let me explain:

If you smile at someone, in almost every case, they will smile back.

Try it now with someone nearby and see if it works.

If you're kind toward someone, they will usually be kind in return.

Of course, this also works in the other direction.

If you complain to someone, they will "share" their complaints with you. (In fact, you may quickly find yourself in a subtle competition to see who is more miserable.)

If you get angry at someone, they will usually get angry with you.

And so on...

The fact is, whatever you decide to "throw" out into the world will usually circle around and land right back at your feet. (Much like the boomerangs we played with as kids.)

Here's what struck me this morning.

I have a CHOICE about what I decide to "throw" out into my world. I have a CHOICE about what I WANT to land at my feet?

If you want more JOY - throw it out there.

If you want more HAPPINESS - throw some happiness out there to someone else and watch it "miraculously" come back to you.

It even works with money. Need money? Give some away. (Spiritual leaders from the beginning of time have been telling us this, but most of us are afraid to believe it.)

It works in just about every area of our life. When we give something away. When we "throw" it out there. It comes back to us.

But here's the good news. (And this is really the "miraculous" part) We actually get MORE back than what we throw out there. Plant a seed and you don't just get one seed back. You get hundreds - maybe even thousands!

So today and for as many days afterwards as you want, make a conscious CHOICE about what you want to "throw" out into the world. By doing this, you will be making a choice about what is going to come back and land at your feet.

Remember the boomerang. Whatever you "throw" out there WILL come back to you many times over.

Tim Wright, Ph.D.

Visit the author's website at: www.changingyouremotions.com

I Will Be Your Left Side

Upcoming holidays often include plans to return home. Since I live close to my parent's home I have this option frequently. Sometimes when I return home I regressed to my youngest child birth order. With the regression brings a return to the typical youngest child behavior of eavesdropping.

I learn a lot from eavesdropping. I hope you do too. Occasionally, conversations are mundane and routine. But, then there is the mother lode of juicy pieces of information, not yet ready for full broadcast. These conversations are more fun than a midnight sale at Nordstrom.

Recently I overheard a conversation between my dad and his caregiver, Sonny.

My dad is on year three of his stroke rehabilitation. His series of strokes left his left-side in a sleepy, limited-functioning state. This requires him to submit to help with moving, transitioning, dressing, bathing, anything that you or I would do with our left side, he must rely on a caregiver to help him do. One day was particularly difficult. Arms and legs were not acting in concert but as free agents. It was during this day, that I overheard Sonny, tell Dad something indeed worth eavesdropping to hear.

Sonny said, "Don't worry, Bill, I will be your left side today."

I do not know what else followed in their conversation. I was lost in thoughts of gratitude for Sonny and his _expression of care.

"Don't worry; I will be your left side today."

Sonny didn't say, "Help me out, you can do more." He knew Dad was doing all he could do. Sonny didn't give up in frustration. He persevered. He did not say, "Lean on me and I will do it all." He preserved Dad's dignity and worth. Sonny saw what needed to be done and did it, assuring Dad that he was there as support.

Have you offered anyone your left side? I mean, really offered with the intent to follow-through? This is tough for me because I am the spokesperson for the club with the title, "If I Can Do Anything, Just Let Me Know." I reached this position after years of membership in the "Happy to Help in Anyway I Can" association. To turn intention into action is the balance I seek.

Sonny turned intention into action. He was acutely aware of another's needs. He served that day and continues today to serve as a left-side. What a goal and a gift! This holiday season, I wish for you to find ways to be another's "left-side," for a minute, an hour, or a lifetime. And, I wish that you will experience the best of the season from all sides!

Helen Teague

Helen's father, Dr. William J. Teague lives in Abilene, Texas. Helen is a teacher and consultant with OOPS: Our Overnight Planning System, an educational staff development firm for those interested in the life-long learning potential of students. Visit OOPS at: http://4oops.com or contact Helen by email at: helen@4oops.com

It's Not About The Rolex

In March of 2003, Dan and I went on a week-long Caribbean cruise with our very close friends Mike and Rhonda. It was one of those trips they joke about on cruise line commercials... We scuba'ed in Aruba, hiked in Barbados, mountain-biked in the Virgin Islands, took spinning bike classes onboard ship, and generally speaking, wore ourselves out! We knew that it would be that way on any trip with Mike and Rhonda. We had done a lot of traveling together and always made it a physical challenge of some sort. It's great to have like-minded friends who push you to be your best in that way!

But it's not the physical fun that we remember most about the cruise. That week was all about the Rolex.

You see, on the very first day of our trip, Mike asked Rhonda if she was going to buy him a Rolex watch on this cruise. She gave him a high hand and said, "I've told you my answer already. If you want that watch you're going to have to buy it yourself!" Dan and I were both surprised. That was the first we had heard about Mike wanting a Rolex. As a successful international sales consultant and trainer, he certainly dressed the part while working, but most of the time Mike preferred walking around in his hiking shorts and a t-shirt. He'd rather be riding a mountain bike on the Flume Trail in Lake Tahoe than at any occasion meriting a Rolex watch!

So, we were mildly astonished when Mike told us that he had been asking Rhonda to buy him a particular Rolex for six years. Sure, he could afford to buy it himself. That wasn't the point. He wanted her to buy it for him.

Mike and Rhonda had been together, by then, for 27 years and had achieved a lifestyle that many people only dream about. Both had achieved tremendous personal and professional success. In addition to her career in human resources, Rhonda had recently started investing in real estate and already owned several multi-family properties. She was fearless about writing a check to buy an apartment complex. But a Rolex watch? That was way out of her comfort zone.

Mike had decided, however, that he didn't want the Rolex unless it came from Rhonda. With a delightfully unique sense of humor, he was thoroughly enjoying the tension his request created. Rhonda told Mike, "I don't see any difference between a Rolex and a Timex. If you want one, go buy it."

The very first chance we had alone with Rhonda, we pounced. "Rhonda," we said, "Mike wants you to buy it for him. Don't you see that?"

"I don't care. He knows how I feel about it," she replied. "If he wants one he should have it, but he can buy it for himself."

Dan reminded her, then, of the book she had just recently read titled, The Five Languages of Love, by Gary Chapman. "Sure he could do that," Dan insisted, "but he wants to receive it from you."

The discussion continued with the three of us for a couple of days, unbeknownst to Mike. Eventually Rhonda made the bold decision that she would buy the Rolex on the last day of the cruise, in St. Thomas. Mike had no idea what was coming his way.

When the morning of the final day of our trip arrived, we all agreed not to strain our already bruised and battered bodies any further and set out on the island of St. Thomas to stroll, eat, drink and shop. While the guys enjoyed a cold beer at a sidewalk cafe, Rhonda and I snuck off to the jewelry store. I have a picture of Rhonda parting with her credit card. The look on her face says it all, "I can't believe I'm spending this much money on a wrist watch!"

We slipped the box into my small backpack and Rhonda nervously kept a close eye on my every move for the next few hours. Back on ship, Dan and I went off to get the box gift-wrapped and then arrived at dinner early so we could hide the surprise from Mike.

Over drinks before dinner, Rhonda presented Mike with his gift. Mike didn't suspect at first, but when he ripped off the wrapping we saw by the look on his face the moment that he knew what was in the box. He was truly stunned and deeply touched. We all had lumps in our throats and leaky eyes as he pulled the Rolex from the box and Rhonda helped place it on his wrist. The look of love that passed between them in that one brief moment was priceless. Rhonda generously gave; Mike graciously received. We all understood that it wasn't about the Rolex; it was a beautiful _expression of love. That was the evening of March 21, 2003.

For the next few months, every time we saw or spoke to Mike, one of us would ask him, "Hey Mike, what time is it?" Or, sometimes, we'd ask, "Que tiempo es?" We'd ask it in any language, just so long as it resulted in Mike glancing at his wrist with the boyishly engaging smile we all loved.

No one could have seen what was coming next.

Mike and Rhonda had always set an extraordinary example of living life FULL OUT. In addition to raising their two wonderful children, Rhonda had completed a 26-mile marathon in Honolulu, Mike had competed in rigorous mountain bike events, and they had camped and trekked their way across the rain forests of Costa Rica. Their entire life together was an adventure and both were the epitome of fitness and health.

So, we were shocked the day we received a phone call from Mike while Rhonda was driving him to the emergency room to see why he was having vision and cognitive association challenges. I remember the exact day and time. It was 7:30 am on October 24, 2003. They were supposed to fly from Reno to Scottsdale later that day to spend the weekend with us. Instead, Mike was admitted to the hospital after his doctors discovered a massive brain tumor.

On December 21, 2003, exactly nine months from the day Rhonda presented him with his Rolex watch, Mike passed from this world.

Mike's vibrant spirit is still very much present with all of us. Rhonda has moved bravely and graciously through the painful loss and is living her life today exactly as Mike would want her to... FULL OUT.

We are all reminded to be grateful for every moment of life whenever we glance at the Rolex watch which is now worn on the wrist of Mike and Rhonda's son, Daniel, and see the twinkle in his eye when we ask, "Hey Daniel, what time is it?"

It was never about the Rolex.

Carol Gates

Post Script: A note from Rhonda and Mike's son, Daniel, regarding the story...

Carol,

My mother just e-mailed the story you had written about the Rolex buying experience in St. Thomas. It was beautifully told! I am glad that such a wonderful, loving and full of life couple was there to share the experience with my parents. I think only you could have expressed the emotions felt that day so eloquently and visually. I felt I was there, watching my father's facial _expression when he first put on the watch, realizing how little the watch meant to him, and how much his wife meant to him. I thank you for writing such a wonderful story about a shared moment of love between my parents. I hope you do publish this.

Thank you!
Daniel Cain

Carol Gates is co-author of the book, As You Wish and is the director of Bob Proctor's Coaching and Consulting Program. If you are ready to begin living your life full out and are looking for the support you need to move forward, visit: www.ccprogram.com Carol can be reached for comments or questions at: carol@carolgates.com

The Man With The One Track Mind

Eddie Arcaro dreamed of becoming the world's greatest jockey but after watching him ride a horse for five minutes, reality reflected a harsh contradiction. He was awkward and clumsy, and in his early years in the saddle he couldn't do one thing right. He was left behind at the post, he got trapped in traffic jams, he got bumped and boxed in. In his first 100 races he never even came close to winning. Still, he got right back on and tried again.

Even as a schoolboy, Arcaro had set his own track in life. Because he was only a little over five feet tall and weighed barely 80 pounds, the other students shunned him. So he played hooky instead, hanging out at the local race track where a trainer let him gallop the horses. His father reluctantly agreed to let him pursue a career as a jockey, even though he knew it was a long shot. The trainer had told him so. "Send him back to school," he said. "He'll never be a rider."

No one was betting on little Eddie Arcaro, no one that is except Arcaro. He was determined not just to ride, but to become the world's greatest jockey. But first someone would have to give him a chance. He pleaded and persisted until he finally got to ride in a real race. Before it was over, he'd lost his whip and his cap and had almost fallen off the saddle. By the time he finished the race, the other horses were on their way back to the stables. He'd come in dead last.

After that, Arcaro went from track to track, looking for any opportunity to ride. Finally, an owner who felt pity took him in and gave him his next chance. One hundred trophy-less races later, he was still giving him a chance. The trainers saw something in this unlucky jockey, something they couldn't define. Perhaps it was potential, perhaps it was resilience, perhaps it was sheer obstinacy, but no one was willing to send him home. And Arcaro was certainly not going to quit.

There were long years when he was broke, homesick, and almost without friends. There were also many brushes with death and several broken bones. Every time his delicate 63 inch body was trammeled by hoofs he would get patched up and return to the saddle.

Then it happened. Arcaro began to win...and win...and win...Now, instead of leaving a path of destruction, he was leaving a path of devastated opponents. In thirty years of riding, he won 4,779 races, becoming the only jockey in history to win the Kentucky Derby five times. By the time he retired in 1962 he was a millionaire and a legend in his own lifetime.

From the moment he walked out of school and onto a track, Eddie Arcaro had his mind on a finish line. And although the race took thirty years, he never quit until that line was crossed.

Cynthia Kersey

Cynthia Kersey is the author of Unstoppable and Unstoppable Women
Copyright 1998 by Cynthia Kersey
Visit Cynthia's web site at: www.unstoppable.net

Mistakes

Tom Watson Sr. was the guiding hand in the success of IBM for forty years. He knew the risks associated with business and the value of learning from mistakes. One year a young executive was given responsibility for a project that cost over $10 million. As it turned out, the idea failed, and when the young man was called in, he offered his resignation.

"You can't be serious," said Watson. "We've just spent $10 million education you!"

When Thomas Edison was trying to invent the electric light, he made thousands of "mistakes" before he had any success. The discovery of rubber vulcanization was made by accident. Gail Borden made countless business blunders before achieving success with condensed milk. Levi Strauss made the mistake of selling his entire supply of dry goods, leaving him with only canvas to make pants from. Milton Hershey failed more than once in the candy making business before finding success with the Hershey bar.

Almost every enterprise has experienced its share of mistakes. Mistakes are a tool of learning. Although repeating mistakes is foolish, a legitimate try that turns sour should be accepted as part of the process moving forward to a better idea. Those who adhere to the old adage, "If you are not making mistakes, you are not making progress" are frequently the persons who make the biggest advancements in business. We have a natural tendency to avoid trial and error, and often find risk-taking to be unsettling. Yet, it is those who take calculated risks who reap the benefits. As Edward J. Phelps so aptly stated, "The man who makes no mistakes does not usually make anything."

Consider this: Are you so afraid of making mistakes that you are shielding yourself from success?

Alan Elliott
Author of "A Daily Dose of the American Dream"

On The Ball

He's focused. I mean really focused. His eye is on the ball and nothing will distract him.

My dog, Ricky is a master motivator for me. He loves playing ball. You can throw it a hundred times and a hundred times he'll go get it.

Every evening before we go to bed Ricky will run up the stairs ahead, turn around and place the ball on the top step.

"Push it!" I shout and with his right foot, Ricky pushes the ball down the steps. I catch it and throw it back up to him. Nine times out of ten he'll catch it. Nine times out of ten I'll miss it. He then repeats the whole thing usually until I am too tired to continue. I will then toss it high enough to get it past him.

He will do the same thing if you are just sitting in a chair. Ricky will get just far enough away so that you can't reach for the ball. He picks it up, places it in front of him and pushes it to you.

But here's what motivates me. He never stops looking at the ball. I can call his name, make noises, try desperately to distract him and he will not take his eyes off the ball.

I zig-zag my foot pretending to kick it one direction and then follow up by kicking it another. I rarely get it past him.

If he misses it, he barks at it as he chases after it. Like it was the ball's fault.

His whole purpose, all that he wants, all that he enjoys is in that ball, so nothing will cause him to be distracted. He inspires me. His dedication, his focus, his determination and will to keep on playing screams volumes to me.

"Why can't I be that focused?" I ask myself.

"Why can't I be that determined?" I follow.

Oh, you might be quick to point out that being too focused is not good. One needs distraction to ease the mind.

He's a dog. He sleeps, eats and plays.

I'm a human. I sleep, eat and work. Oh, yes, I eat more than he does. I play, but a lot less than he does and not for long periods of time any more.

I'm getting to be an old dog.

Still, Ricky does have his times when I roll a ball across the floor in front of him and he watches it pass by. He doesn't move a muscle. That old pup is too pooped sometimes, too.

But he chooses to be.

He is sleeping in the other room right now. If I went in there with a ball he would jump up and without thinking, chase after it. He doesn't have to stretch first, moan a bit and get his shoes on. He doesn't have to find his glasses so he can see the ball. He doesn't start by saying, "Okay, give me a minute to wake up."

Afterwards he won't complain about all the running and jumping. He won't go to the medicine cabinet and look for some pain relievers.

And at the end of the day, he won't say, "Boy, I'm going to regret that in the morning."

Not Ricky. He inspires me. He's "on the ball!"

Bob Perks

Bob Perks is a speaker and author. Make the time to contact Bob and take a look at his website by going to: www.IWishYouEnough.com

A Decent Man

Louie. What a giant of a man he was, from the beginning. We met in the home of mutual friends, who had rescued me and my children from a woman's shelter. I remember seeing him for the first time, how he seemed to fill the room, and I remember thinking, this is a man who knows exactly who he is. My children fell in love with him immediately, especially nine-year-old Jenny and six-year-old Helen.

I had always wondered what a real man, who truly loves children, would be like. I found out that first night. I was cautious and distant, but I couldn't deny the charm of the man who willingly made a fool of himself for the sake of my children. My daughters were entranced, and they recited the most awful jokes, teaching him how to talk in belch, informing him proudly, about how they had learned these things from their mother. I explained, blushing, that "my children are always bragging about me."

He was charming and outgoing with the little ones; yet with the adults, he was quiet and seemed quite shy. At one point, my twelve year old became frustrated, because no one was listening to her. Louie propelled himself from the floor, waving his powerful hands, and silencing everyone.

"This young lady has something to say, and we should all listen." Everyone looked at my daughter, as she told her story. Louie laughed in all the right places, giving an encouraging look to anyone who wasn't paying attention.

"Now isn't that a funny story?" he asked, and, of course, everyone agreed.

I watched him that night, and I marveled at his tenderness with my little girls, who had never known a man's tenderness. I sent a silent communication toward heaven. So this is what love is.

We started out as friends. He talked to me like a big brother, when he thought that I was not taking care of myself. I was picking at my food, and all the terrors of our flight from an abusive home had paralyzed my throat, so that I couldn't swallow much food. Louie gave me a searching look, yet his voice was softly reproving.

"Those little girls need you." He said. "If you don't take care of yourself, who's going to take care of them?" I was mesmerized by the innate decency of this man, and his ability to state the simple truth. He was right. I was all that my children had. So, I began to eat, chewing slowly, and finally swallowing, as we talked.

He was in the Navy. He had served on the same ship with the husband of the woman who had taken us in. I was beaten down by the time I met Louie, and I was very protective of my children. No man would ever hurt them again. But I reveled in this new friendship. I was assured that Louie could be trusted, and that was enough for me.

I found myself so drawn to the respectful, shy man, who had already captured my children's hearts. I had the irresistible urge to make him laugh, and I seized every opportunity, as he heaved boxes and furniture, helping me move into my own place. It took us all day to move from one end of Jacksonville, Florida to the other, but finally I was set up, with my little girls, in my very first apartment.

It was a lovely place. I had fought for a decent place to bring my daughters to, and the state of Florida had made certain of it, defending the rights of my children, and protecting their lives and mine. I will never forget how strangers befriended us, after relatives and friends turned their backs. To me, it is amazing the angels that God brought into my life, when I was most alone.

When we were finally settled, and the girls were put to bed, Louie and I talked long into the night. He walked my dog, as I made sandwiches. I watched him. Every nuance. I noticed the strong lines of his face. I watched him through the front window, as he patiently waited for my dog, of discriminating taste, to find just the perfect spot. Louie's face, in repose, spoke of deep thoughts, and if God would grant me one wish about that night, it would be to know what was on his heart and mind, in those moments.

Louie's ship was leaving the next day, for a six week deployment, and I gathered up the courage to ask for his mailing address, never expecting to see him again. I was alone, and I knew it. That first night alone in my first apartment was a night of reflection. I turned out all the lights, and my bedroom was softly illuminated by the street lamp outside my window. I thought about a gentle man and kind friends, who selflessly gave of themselves out of the goodness of their hearts.

I recalled what I had said to Louie the very first night that we met, when he was encouraging me to take care of myself for the sake of my children. I could not resist the urge to speak, boldly, to my new friend.

"Louie," I had said, watching his deep green eyes, shyly meet mine, "Someday, a woman will come into your life, who will love you, as no one has ever loved you before, and all the sorrows of your life will be left far behind."

Perhaps my words were the simple reflection of my own heart's longings. But I never dreamed what God already knew...that woman would be me.

Jaye Lewis

Jaye and Louie have now been married for over 24 years. They live in the Appalachian Mountains of southwestern Virginia celebrating their love every day. This story will be included in Jaye's soon to be released book, entitled "Entertaining Angels." Visit Jaye's website at www.entertainingangels.org

Two Kinds of Legacy

When you die, your possessions will be distributed according to a will in which you allocated property to specific people. Objects left in a will are called a legacy.

But "legacy" also has a much deeper meaning.

In Jewish tradition, people write "ethical wills" in which they pass on to the next generation, especially their children, the gift of wisdom and good wishes. This legacy is far more profound and permanent than bequests of property.

An ethical will is often a personal letter to the most important people in our lives. It conveys our values, convictions and hopes. An ethical will is also an autobiography - not of events and dates, but of the insights and intuitions that define who we are and tell the world what we stand for and what we think is important.

These documents provide a priceless and prized source of loving advice and can become treasured family heirlooms. Because they are about ethics, they also can become a moral compass that helps loved ones navigate their way to worthy and happy lives.

Yet no matter how highly cherished these letters can be for those who receive them, the process of writing them can change your perspective and cause you to readjust your own priorities.

What would you put in your ethical will? When you can, begin writing down everything you might want to pass on to the people you love. But know this: Once you start, it will be hard to stop as you'll experience a surge of thoughts that will engulf you with all the subconscious beliefs that make you who you are and what you will be.

According to Socrates, the touchstone of wisdom is to first know thyself. Try it, and you'll see why.

Michael Josephson
Speaker and Radio Commentator
www.charactercounts.org

At The Wrong Place, At The Wrong Time

I awoke from a coma, thinking I was in the southwestern part of Russia. I had no idea what I was doing there, and to add to my confusion I had no idea why so many friends and family members were also in Russia with me.

In reality, I was in the Intensive Care unit (ICU) at Breckenridge Hospital in Austin, Texas, the result of having been shot, point blank in the head, during a convenience store robbery. I was the victim of a violent crime, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Before that infamous night, I thought I was invincible and immortal. Life was good for me. I was a 19-year-old pre-med student at the University of Texas in Austin, well on my way to fulfilling a life-long dream of becoming an Orthopedic Surgeon. I had a beautiful girlfriend (Sharon, my high school sweetheart) and I thought life could not get any better. How wrong I was!!

On that eventful night, February 18, 1981, I had to fight simply to remain alive. The three criminals who shot me thought I was dead, and after arriving by ambulance at the hospital very few people there believed I would be alive much longer. The police quickly transferred my case to the Homicide Division as they, too, thought I would not survive.

My neurosurgeon arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night only to turn around and go home, thinking I would be dead before the morning arrived. When he returned the next morning, surprised that I was still alive, he told my parents that he needed to immediately take me into the operating room for delicate brain surgery. However, instead of giving my parents any reason for hope, he coldly stated that there was a 60 percent chance that I would die during surgery, and if I did survive, there was almost a 100 percent chance that I would not be able to comprehend, communicate, or be a positive member of society again.

I beat the eminent neurosurgeon's odds and survived the surgery. I was still paralyzed on my right side, could not speak, and was confused. But I was alive.

After three weeks in Austin, I was strong enough to be transferred by jet ambulance to a Rehab Hospital in Houston. Once there, I continued to make slow but steady progress. However, after several weeks I was tested by a neuropsychologist and once again my life changed forever. She said, "I know you have goals of returning to college, but judging from the results of your test, we must be realistic." She implied most strongly that I would never return to college. I was furious and thought, "Lady, who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? You do not even know me!" Right then and there I made returning to University of Texas my number one goal.

My goal was not an easy one. I had to learn to walk again. I had to learn to speak again. I had to learn how to do small things that most of us take for granted like tying my shoes, getting dressed every day, taking a shave, etc. But this time I had to learn to do it by using only one hand.

However, after one and a half years of extremely difficult work my goal was reached. I returned to the University of Texas. When I was first injured, very few professionals believed that I would survive, and even fewer thought I would ever return to the University of Texas. None thought I would return to Plan II, the Honors Program at the University of Texas in which I was enrolled on that eventful night when I was shot. I surprised everyone when I resumed my university studies in none other then Plan II.

After four years, I graduated at the top of my class, receiving such honors as Phi Beta Kappa, Dean's Distinguished Graduate, and Summa Cum Laude. After graduation from the University of Texas, I married Sharon, my high school sweetheart, who stood by me, giving me encouragement and love throughout my ordeal. Then I continued my education in Graduate School, obtaining my Master's of Social Work from the University of Houston.

Even though I was very proud of all my accomplishments there were times I felt very bitter. Once, a friend asked me to watch him play basketball thinking I would enjoy myself. Watching him play only upset me because I felt that had I not been a victim of violence, it would have been me playing instead of watching in the stands. I was constantly thinking "What if." I guess not enough time had elapsed for the process of grieving. Before I was shot, I could do at least 500 things extremely well, but now I could possibly do 200 if I was really lucky. I therefore thought to myself, "Am I going to concentrate on the 300 things I can no longer do or on the 200 things that I can still do?"

At that very moment, the answer was clear. I was going to make my life positive and focus on what I still had and not on what I had recently lost.

Grief is a funny thing. It affects us all. Whether you are shot in the head, mourning for a loved one whom has just passed away, or facing a divorce, grief is extremely painful. No one expects to experience these losses, but I have come to realize that they are part of life. It is true that overcoming grief takes much time. However, with the correct attitude I believe that most everyone can overcome it. It is like the old saying that says: "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." As I thought about this, I decided to make myself a tall, delicious, glass of lemonade.

Michael Jordan Segal
©2001 All rights reserved - used with permission.

Michael Jordan Segal is a social worker at Memorial Hermann Hospital. An author and a well sought after inspirational/motivational speaker. His "miraculous comeback" story has been featured on national television and magazines. Mike has had stories published in "Chicken Soup for the Christian Family Soul," newspapers, booklets and ezines. Mike married his highschool sweetheart, Sharon, and together they live in Houston, Texas with their daughter, Shawn. For more information and to contact Mike please visit: www.InspirationByMike.com