The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. "How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age."

Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others.

Someone said, "Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment."

Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. "I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home."

He looked at us and said, "I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish."

Frank's voice dropped a bit. "When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here I was, twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!"

He paused and then went on, "I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile.

He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, 'No, Dad.'

It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face.

I said, 'Dad, I'm too old for a goodbye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss.'

My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. 'You're right,' he said. 'You are a big boy- a man. I won't kiss you anymore.'"

Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. "It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats."

I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks.

Frank spoke again. "Guys, you don't know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek, to feel his rough old face, to smell the ocean on him, to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss."

Whether I fail or succeed shall be no man's doing but my own.
I am the force.

~ELAINE MAXWELL~

THERE'S a HOLE in MY SIDEWALK

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in. It's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.


I walk down another street.


Portia Nelson

Differences create the challenges in life that open the door to discovery.

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch,
a smile,
a kind word,
a listening ear,
an honest compliment,
or the smallest act of caring,
all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

It's not the mountain we conquer,
but ourselves.
EDMUND HILLARY
(first person to climb Mount Everest)

THRICE LYRICS
"Stare At The Sun"
i sit here clutching useless lists
and keys for doors that don't exist
i crack my teeth on pearls
i tear into the history
just show me what it means to me in this world

'cause i am due for a miracle
i'm waiting for a sign
i'll stare straight into the sun
and i won't close my eyes
'til i understand or go blind

i see the parts but not the whole
i study saints and scholars both
no perfect plan unfurls
do i trust my heart or just my mind
why is truth so hard to find in this world
yeah in this world

'cause i am due for a miracle
i'm waiting for a sign
i'll stare straight into the sun
and i won't close my eyes
'til i understand or go blind

i know that there's a point I've missed
a shrine or stone i haven't kissed
a scar that never graced my wrist
a mirror that hasn't met my fist
but i can't help feeling like i'm

due for a miracle
i'm waiting for a sign
i'll stare straight into the sun
and i won't close my eyes

The following poem tells the sad tale of what happens when people pre-judge one another.


THE COLD WITHIN

Six humans trapped by happenstance, in bleak and bitter cold,
Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back,
For the faces 'round the firre, he noticed one was black.

The next man looking 'cross the way saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes, he gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge as the fire passed from sight,
FOr all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white

The last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain,
Giving only to those who gave was how he played the game.

Their logs held tight in death's still hand was proof of human sin,
They didn't die from the cold without-they died from the cold within.

When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits, I dreamed of changing the world;

As I grew older and wiser I realised the world would not change.

And I decided to shorten my sights somewhat and change only my country. But it too seemed immovable.

As I entered my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt, i sought to change only my family, those closest to me, but alas they would have none of it.

And now here I lie on my death bed and realise (perhaps for the first time) that if only I'd changed myself first, then by example i may have influenced my family and with their encouragement and support I may have bettered my country, and who knows I may have changed the world.

People are as happy
as they make up their mind to be.
Abraham Lincoln
U.S President