Kids

I saw something today, and it reminded me of when my son (he would have been twenty three now) was just a little guy, at that stage where he had finally started speaking clearly.  They are really cute then, and it’s probably a good thing they are so cute, because they do have a knack of repeating things…that don’t leave their parents in a very good light.

I remember that day so clearly still.  It was fall, and cold already–we were living in Minnesota that year.  It was late afternoon, and I hurried to the grocery store with him in tow.  Even though he was rather large for a three year old, I wanted him in the shopping cart.  It meant that he would be at least slowed down on the amazing faster-than-light speed with which he could disappear.  I just had a few things  to pick up, and it was mid-week.  It was also senior citizen day at the grocery store.

The day before, a little warmer and sunnier, I had played basketball on the pavement with the neighborhood kids and  my own kids.  Unfortunately, when scooping up the ball, I had ripped a fingernail backwards, tearing it away from the nail bed.  Anyone who has ever done that knows, it is a blinding pain, certain to provoke the most saintly of people to a swearing fit.  In my case, because of my son’s habit of repeating everything, I had replaced all of my good swear words with the innocuous phrase of “nasty words.”  It worked to express myself without having to worry about him repeating it.

Or so I thought.

There we are at the grocery store, my deceptively angelic looking three year old sitting in the seat, smiling at each and every old lady in the store.  It was his bait to get them to come nearer…and they did.  And then he would drop the bombshell in that voice that toddlers have that carries for ten city blocks despite traffic and pouring rain.

“My mama says nasty words!”

My cheeks flamed, but the humiliation would continue, because nothing I said could put a stop to his game.  He told every single little old lady in the store that his mama said nasty words, leaving out the rest of the story and without explaining that it was literally the phrase “nasty words.”  Nothing I said could tame the scandalized looks I received, and I may as well as had a scarlet “nasty word sayer” embroidered on my shirt.  I hurried through the check out, while he informed the bag boy, the clerk, the women in the line behind me, and the store manager that his mama said nasty words.  There wasn’t a sympathetic glint in an eye anywhere, I was a bad mother who said nasty words where her toddler heard.

Like I said, it’s a real good thing that kids that age are very, very cute and we’re really attached to them.  I was mortified, and trying to explain only made the situation worse.  There was no quick escape, and the floor refused to open up and swallow me either.

But you know what?

Time does change your perspective on things.  Twenty years later, it’s a funny memory.  I can still hear his voice as he announced, over and over, “My mama says nasty words.”  He was  so proud of his announcement, and utterly unaware of what they thought he was saying.

 

Pay it forward?

The past few months have been really tough for Greg and I.  We’ve been struggling, barely keeping things together.  Sometimes, it would be very easy to get very depressed about it all.  But then, I stepped back and thought about what was going on.

It’s not that we have failed, but rather I see it as a lesson we needed to learn.  Maybe me more than Greg, to be honest.  It’s a lesson in humility.  I was arrogant and reluctant to let people help me, even after becoming disabled.  I kept on insisting I could do it on my own, even when it was becoming blatantly obvious that that was not a true statement.  Still, I refused to admit defeat and give in, accepting help.  It was hard to even ask Greg to help me when I couldn’t get dressed or undressed.  To let someone else see that I was struggling was unthinkable.

I thought I was better than that, it seems.  That’s a risky thing to do, because when you don’t learn your lessons, they just get harder.

That’s what the universe did to me, it seems.  I wasn’t getting the lesson with just the physical aspect, so they delivered a secondary version.  It’s like those Ladies of Fate looked down at me and frowned, saying she didn’t get it the first time, let’s hit her in the pocketbook this time!

And then they cackled.

Okay, so I have a wild imagination.  Even so, I am convinced that they did in fact cackle.

So the financial woes hit, and as we navigated those rapids on the river of life, apparently, I wasn’t learning fast enough to suit them.  So then, Greg has his heart attack.  While he could have died, he didn’t, for which we’re both very thankful.  But it scared me and scared me good, as well as put him in the hospital for a week, leaving me to cope on my own.

It was like watching a house of cards when a stiff breeze struck them.  It all began to fall apart for me.  Greg has no idea how fragile my world suddenly became–he missed those melt downs.  I had no idea how I would cope, with anything.  The stress was killing me.  The fear was paralyzing me.  All I had was a fragile thread of hope binding us to manage to get through this somehow.

And people helped me.  Some of it was financial, some of it was emotional, and some of it was very intangible.  Even the rude people who upset me and made me angry actually were helping me, because then I had at least anger to help keep a stiff spine and keep on going.  When Greg got out, we managed to find more help to get over those first weeks as we tried to figure out how on earth we were going to get by.  Family helped too.  It seemed to be strings of minor miracles coming together, creating a ladder that looks like we might actually survive it all after all.

And I learned.  At some point in our lives, we all need help.  This is important because if we fail to accept those times, we’re also depriving someone else of their own lesson.

Because at some point in our lives, we need to help others.  It might be a small thing, it might be a bigger thing, it might even be a huge thing.  It doesn’t matter what the size is, the whole point is that by helping someone else, we’re learning how to be a little less selfish and a little more giving.  Like the Grinch…our hearts can grow a size larger.

And then, at some other point in our lives, it’s time to pay that debt and pay it forward.  I’d already been in that position.  Long ago, on several occasions, total strangers helped me, for no reason at all.  I hadn’t asked for it, even though I really desperately needed help.  I did manage to accept it graciously and thankfully.  Since I don’t even know who they were, there is no possibility of ever paying them back for that help.

Or is there?

To me, it was a case of paying it forward.  Random acts of kindness to others doesn’t hurt.  It doesn’t even cost a lot usually.  It might take a bit of extra time, a bit of extra attention, a dash of true consideration…but that’s a small price to pay really.

Because you never know when you will be suddenly thrust into walking in their shoes for a day or longer.  You never know what life is going to dish out to you, and suddenly leave you in a position of desperation and loss of hope.

I know most people get on the bandwagon for donating time and money around the holidays.  That’s really nice.  The fact is, there are people in desperate situations every single day of the year.  Get up, go and do something.  It’s like making a deposit in  your karmic bank account–and you never know when you’ll need to make a withdrawal.  Finding a cause is great, but it doesn’t have to be something that well defined.  Maybe its giving a ride to a neighbor, buying a package of diapers for a young family, a box of groceries for an elderly person, or a donation to the local food bank.  Even something as simple as carrying in a trash can for an aging neighbor might do more than spare them the effort–it might restore their faith in humanity and make them feel like someone cares.

Make a difference, somehow, to someone.  Make someone’s day a little brighter, not so that they will like you or do something for you, but just to see them smile.  You might be really surprised at the side effects that it will have on  you.

People

We went to Lowe’s today.  Greg needed some supplies, and that was where they were to be found, so off we went.

We parked near the garden center, as I wanted to explore what they had available there, as well as search their prices.  As we walked in, a young man asked us how we were and whether he could help us.  Greg was his usual smart alec self.

He asked if they sold sanity by the box.

I kept walking, but part of me regrets that now.  I should have either stood there or ran away, so I either had no clue about the rest of the conversation, or got to watch these rocket scientists in action.

I will NEVER again ask any Lowe’s employee for any help with making a decision, because I know that they also came from the same hiring process.  Sit down, but go to the bathroom first, before you read another word, if  you are prone to springing a leak when laughing hard.

The young man proceeds to tell Greg where the boxes of sanity were found.  Greg, assuming he had not heard him correctly, says no, boxes of sanity.  (emphasis on sanity)

The guy says he’s not sure what that is, so Greg, with far more patience than I would have, tells him its the opposite of insane.  He nodded sagely, and calls his companion for advice.  His companion comes up with the answer.

“We are all sold out.  It’s been on back order for two weeks.”

Now, for most people, we’d assume they were joking, right?  Just like Greg was joking.  The first guy tells the other guy that there might be some left on aisle six.  I’m starting to get very worried.  This pair might have a box cutter or something on them.

Greg starts to finally understand that they aren’t going to understand, and he tells them nevermind, it was just a joke.

Junior rocket scientist assures him that they’ll surely have it back in stock next week.

About this point, I decided that moving indoors to the seeds was appropriate.  This pair scared me, because if it turned out that they had a third brain cell between the two of them, all sorts of things might occur.

Get a book, read there how to fix things.  Do not depend on a store clerk to have a clue!

The Facebook Bubble

There are rumors flying that the Facebook bubble is about to burst, that it has exceeded its own growth potential, resulting in a speedy demise.

Maybe it has, and maybe it hasn’t.  I’m not an expert, but…I am smart enough to learn from the past.  That’s what history is for, isn’t it?

We have had a lot of bubbles related to the internet.  The dot com bubble burst some time ago.  MySpace, once the king of social networking, is pretty much history.  I have an account, but I have logged into it about twice in the last three years.  Even then, it was just to connect with someone who hadn’t moved on to Facebook, not because I cared about my own account.  I didn’t like it much, and I found it awkward and with an excessively youthful nature.  Facebook suited me better, with a more run of the mill air about it as Every Man and Every Woman took to it like ducks to water.  Now, I actually know some people who think the internet IS Facebook, never leaving its comforting pages to wander unfettered through the digital universe we have collectively created.

At the same time, people aren’t going to magically abandon Facebook unless something better comes along.  Google presented us with Google Plus, then disappointed many users as it adopted more and more features that resembled those of Facebook.  We hadn’t flocked to it for a Facebook replacement, we had flocked there to find something DIFFERENT.  Somehow, I think it may have failed to deliver what we were craving, although it does have some of the features people seek.

So what do people want?

That is the million dollar question really.  In general, among the people I have approached , they want some specific things:

Ability to connect with others with similar ideas/interests.

Ability to control how much information is made public.

Ability to integrate and yet separate their private and public personas.  (Yes, they are different!  We all have our pro side, and then we have the side who gets depressed, eats a quart of ice cream, a whole bag of chips, and vegs on the sofa for an entire weekend in their pajamas…featuring My Little Pony on the bodice.  Do we really want our co-worker and clients s to see our angst?)

The ability to share things, especially cute kittens and political  memes.  Oh, and their opinions, of course.  Often.  Without.  Thinking.

The real kicker is that it is hard to keep public and private separate, and yet it is very important.  More and more companies want to take a look at who you are on Facebook before..and after….hiring you.  There have been cases where they wanted the passwords as well, even before hiring you.  (Not sure how legal that really is, and I would object strongly, but desperation in this job market probably inspired many applicants to just give in.)  Law enforcement is looking harder at this information as well, and many people suspect that the government spies on us all continually through social media.  If so, I hope they enjoy the recipes and cute animal pictures  that litter my posts.  Oh, and MouseHunt, the one game that I keep on playing.

So, that big mysterious agency, which is called Big Undercover Liberty Limiting Special Host of Investigating Technicians (BULLSHIT for short) is watching our every tweet and post, whether its on Google Plus, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, or Secret Text Updating Data Inside Technology (aka STUPID) status update in search of covert, illegal, or terrorist activities.  That’s a big job, and it’s an important one.  After all, not even the super snooping capabilities of the latest CARNIVORE government spyware program can detect and analyze the language used inside of a cute kitten meme.  They have even found it necessary to put undercover agents into the dating sites in search of terrorists and anarchists who are using these sites to find women to marry and then obtain legal status to continue their illegal activities in the United States.

Sure they are.

The US is notorious, world wide, for their strong stance against illegal entry compared to other countries.

And I have a couple of bridges for sale, one on each coast of the USA, been in the family for a long time…

Go try sneaking into Mexico, China, North Korea, or heck, even sneak into Iraq while  you are at it.  After you have your “vacation” they’ll send you home, free of charge, right?

Wrong.

But that’s okay, we’re okay with that.  Just like we’re okay with the way Facebook is going.  Never mind that we’re already suspicious of their marketing techniques and desires to use our names and images to promote other goods and services.  We’ll happily go along with it, until the rats all find another ship to jump to.  All we have to do is figure out which ship will be the one they choose, so we’re riding along with our own cheese store, right?

At least  we know what it won’t be.  It won’t be Yahoo, MSN, AOL, MySpace, or G+.  Will it simply fracture apart, as people opt to leave the ultra populated space for smaller, more intimate and more user-responsive versions of social media?

Actually, I think that’s what I would place my bet on.  As shifts occur in how we interact, obtain our information and entertainment, how we shop, and where we work, we’re going to see that continual evolution.  Chat programs, while now usually subscription based, are becoming increasingly popular, and often oriented to topic or demographic data oriented.  We want our information and written entertainment also delivered digitally, and that creates another mode of connection.

That makes me wonder.  What if Amazon introduced a social media program, one that allowed people to discuss types of products, literary works by genre, etc.?  Would we see the rise of that type of social media connection, one provided by the seller of goods as a way to encourage people to continue shopping via their website rather than to venture into the “real world” with all of its inconveniences, expenses and dangers?

Or maybe we’ll see the right wing control factor coming into play, and instead of corporations operating the social media, it will become a government sponsored, controlled, and monitored environment.  We’ll all be tagged with our personal data, preventing any more mysterious encounters, as well as encounters of the really dangerous sort that we’ve all heard about.

The ancient Chinese may have regarded “May you live in interesting times” as a curse, but it’s our mantra.  We do live in interesting times, and who knows how they’ll be regarded in the future.  Are we going to be immortalized in unrealistic works of fiction that equate this era to the Wild Wild West that really never was what the movies portray it as?

That could be too.  All I know is that we’re going to see changes, some from evolution, others from reactionary governments.  We’ll see how our data is delivered and censored change, as well as who delivers what will change.  The wild and utterly independent voices of today’s internet radio may be silenced in the coming years, as expenses continue to rise as economies continue to struggle.  We don’t know.

But, it will definitely be interesting to watch and find out, won’t it?

 

Almost there…

Today is the last day of the year for me.

No, it’s not some new calendar that I’m advocating.  It’s my own personal calendar.  Tomorrow is my birthday, which makes today the last day that I am this age.  I’ll never be this age again.

While it’s easy to beat yourself up as you critically examine your past year, sometimes, it’s a good thing to look back on what exactly you did accomplish that was good.  So, here are my highlights for the year, the things that made me feel the best about accomplishing.

1. I published my first novel.  This may seem silly, it isn’t like I’ve hit anybody’s best seller list, but…for me it IS a big deal.  I’m proud of that accomplishment, I’m proud that I conquered the fear that releasing it into the public was accompanied by.  (If you want to take a look at it and maybe even buy it…go to http://bit.ly/timeofchaos)
2. I have been able to promote my “fan” page as an author and radio personality.  This too may seem like such a little thing, but self promotion is something that comes very, very hard to me.  I guess it goes all the way back to when I was a little girl and told “nice young ladies do not brag”.  I’m not really bragging, and I’m far from what I’d call “nice”, but any form of self-promotion is a big bite to chew for me.  I have been promoting it like crazy this week, with a goal of 100 “likes” on Facebook by tomorrow.  I’m a long ways from achieving it, so…if you want to help me out, go to the page right here and then click “like” at the top of the page.
3. Greg and I bought a house.  A very small, very old, and very cheap house that very much needs a lot of work and updating, but it is ours anyhow!  We love it, we’re happy here, and while our lives aren’t fairy-tale perfect, that’s okay too.
4. I’m learning how to ask for help.  It’s not easy, and the lesson has been agonizing, but I’m learning to let go of my own arrogance and accept help gracefully (or sort of gracefully anyhow)  We have been confronted with physical and financial issues that have left us spinning and unable to cope.
5. I’ve learned about the friends and family that I can count on when our entire world seems to be situated on shifting sands.  I hope I never, ever take them for granted.
6. I’ve learned to be very thankful for my small slice of serenity and contentment.  It’s not always easy, but that’s okay too.  It’s part of my lesson.
7. I’m learning to let go.  That too may sound silly and small, but I want to hold all that I remember and love close to me…forever.  Sometimes, by letting go, we see something even more glorious and amazing.  By hanging on, we are faced with chaos and clutter armed only with a memory.

That’s the good stuff, I suppose.  The highlights anyhow are listed.  I’m thankful for a lot of stuff, and probably the memories that stand out the clearest are just two.

• Greg telling me he loved me after his heart attack and angioplasty to put in stents.
• Our granddaughter’s face when she sees us arrive.  She lights up the universe with her smile.

So, like my Facebook author’s page, then go home and tell someone you love how much they mean to you.  You never know, you might hit that short list of highlights of the year with such a simple act, because after all, all we have at the end is the love.  The rest…doesn’t matter one bit.

I have to wear shoes??

Tomorrow, Greg makes his first follow up appointment regarding his heart condition.  While I had a lot of concerns the first two weeks he was home, he seems to be doing well now.  That’s not to say he has finished recuperating from his heart attack–not only is some of the damage permanent, but it also takes a lot more than a month to heal afterwards.  We’re just now getting one step closer towards seeing how far he can reasonably hope to come.

So, since I want to hear what the doctor has to say, as well as voice my concerns, that means tagging along to his appointment.  That means wearing shoes.

Yeah, I confess.  I almost never wear proper shoes anymore.  I’ve been living my life in Crocs and Croc-like shoes.  They look dreadful, my current pair.  They used to be bright yellow and I called them my Ronald McDonald shoes, even though he doesn’t wear yellow shoes either.  Maybe Elton John does?  Certainly, Gia Scott does.  Along with stains from dribbles when cooking, gardening, walking, talking, and whatever else.  I can still remember when they were clean enough that my granddaughter chewed on them.  Now, touching them might be hazardous.

It’s funny how we get into odd little habits.  I don’t wear the croc-like yellow shoes when it’s raining and I have to go to town.  They are slippery on wet surfaces.  I do wear them when I’m going to drive though, because they are comfortable, even for a long time in the car.  They are a horrible choice for even the gentlest of  hikes, and across the lawn…well, I have plenty of material in them to add to the compost heap.

My other go-to shoes are long time favorites, and maybe part of my reticence in wearing them is the fear of having to replace them.  I’m a big fan of Keen shoes, and the current version is a Voyageur.  Before that, it was a different Keen shoe, and I have Keen sandals as well.  For me, they are an expensive shoe, and I dread replacing them.  My knock off crocs can be picked up at any store for under $10.  Logic says to wear the cheap shoe to tear it up, right?

Well, maybe not.  My grandmother always preached to everyone how they should take care of their feet because your feet take care of you.

That’s true.  It’s almost impossible to even smile, let alone be NICE, when your feet are killing you.  Your facial expression always sends out a message about how you suck lemons as a hobby, not an interested and animated expression exactly.

Our feet are as individual as the rest of us.  That means that it isn’t one brand fits all, let alone one size fits us all.  Our size even changes over time–I was a nice size 8 before I had my daughter…30 years ago.  Now, I buy the boatlike size 10.  Delicate feet are not a family feature, it seems.  I also have a broad foot with a narrow heel, resulting in most shoes slopping excessively at the heel, resulting in my shoes occasionally devouring my socks.

Having your socks bunch up in your arches is not comfy, I can honestly say.

Then there is the shoe height issue, and I’m not referring to heels.  This is likely more of an issue with those of us who love hiking boots for their comfort, durability and support.  I also wore them for years due to work.  I did learn, the hard way of course, that I had to choose the height carefully, and that in my case, taller wasn’t better.

Years ago, I had a serious knee injury, leaving me unable to walk or even move my foot for a very long time.  I was given a very grim prognosis, but I am happy to say that I came a long ways down the recovery road, even if it wasn’t easy.  It did leave me with a few peculiarities of gait, even after the limp was gone, which also resulted in over-developed calves, even when I was at my ideal weight or less.  This sharp increase in girth from ankle to calf was made worse by relatively short legs (I’m not a tall woman either) and tall hiking boots, even 8″ ones, will blister my legs in short order.

If you have ever nursed blistered legs from boots, you know the misery of which I speak.   If you have to put those boots back on again before it heals, it’s an exercise in agony.  Now that my distance hiking days are pretty much history, I know without a doubt that I should never, ever, buy a pair of boots over 6″.  I guess it’s a good thing that I have nice sturdy ankles and  am not prone to twists or sprains there.  (We won’t mention my knees–we aren’t on speaking terms tonight anyhow.)

Shoes make a difference.  Not only in your appearance, but in your comfort, mannerisms, behavior, and success at your endeavor.  Cheap shoes are also not usually a true bargain.

This cheap shoe problem was illustrated to me  years ago when I lived in hiking boots, both at work and at play.  Most inexpensive boots would be destroyed in 30-60 days, with a few pair making a sad progression to their 90 day birthday.  Then, I invested in my very first pair of “good” boots, designed for backpackers.  They were incredibly expensive to me–running roughly 10x what the cheap ones did.  I was afraid I’d made a huge mistake.  How could these boots possibly survive everything from rocks to ahah lava, with some rain, alkali, snow, mud, and scree thrown in for good measure?

They did.  They took it all, keeping my feet dry and cool in summer while staying warm in winter.  They did it for almost a full three years too.  I would have worn out at least a dozen pairs, and possibly as many as two dozen pairs of the cheap boots during that time.  My feet would have often hurt, frequently blistered in new boots, and never would have been truly happy.  Instead, I had a blissful period of pain free walking and hiking, never worrying about whether the terrain would destroy the boots.  I have, on one occasion, worn brand new boots into an area of an old lava flow, only to throw them away at the end of the day, the entire upper shredded by the sharp surfaces.

I’m not a name brand slave.  I am not impressed by the name printed on your butt, your boot, or your head.  I am impressed by durability, value, performance, and comfort.  I don’t care that my Keens look terrible, especially when I pair them with a denim skirt.  That’s okay, if you don’t like it, don’t look!  I care about my comfort and safety.  I don’t want my feet hurting, and I don’t want to slip and fall.  Try that in high heels, Barbie!

 

Most people are liars?

How often do you hear someone ask you “How are you?”

What do you say?  Do you honestly answer them or just respond with the expected “fine” response?  Better yet, do they really care at all about how things are going for you or how you are feeling?

I don’t think they do.  They don’t want to hear about your problems or worries, challenges or defeats.  They MIGHT (and that’s still up for debate) want to hear about some spectacular triumph, but definitely, they don’t want to hear your honest reply about your woes or defeats.

The same thing goes when something horrible happens, people say “Oh, be sure and let me know if there is anything I can do for you!” or ask “Can I help?” While some of the offers are genuine and heartfelt, the vast majority are empty words.

So why is this kind of lying socially acceptable if not expected?  Why do they go through the lip service when there is no intentions on even listening to the response, let alone taking any kind of action?  What motivates them?

I”m not sure.  I avoid making promises that I can’t keep, and when the offers of help are made, it’s genuine, and the one that receives the offer usually knows me well enough to know what I can, or can’t, do to help them, and is expected to realize those limitations.  Is that true of family, acquaintances, etc. when they make these offers too?  Are they expecting us to realize that it is merely lip service?

How many times have you gone out of your way for someone, whether it’s to help when tragedy has struck (from car break down to something more profound) or to merely be an extra set of arms when they are moving, only to have those same friends/family members ignore your own requests for similar help later?  How many times have you had someone who has given help, whether or not you had previously assisted them, only to have them use it like a dangling guillotine over your head for eternity afterwards?

It’s easy to be generous, and then after repeatedly being left standing alongside a dark road in the rain, figuratively speaking, to become cynical and unwilling to help others. It’s that old “once bitten, twice shy” routine.  We learn by their later rejection that our efforts to assist will not be reciprocated.  It happens too often too, whether from our so-called friends or less-than-loyal family members.  Bitterness, however, does not improve your own  emotional state, nor will it improve your “karmic bank balance.”  It’s just plain not good for us.

When it happens, do we need to forget it ever happened and then the next time they ask for help, go ahead and offer it freely, knowing there is no hope of “return on investment” in the relationship?

Probably not.  Sometimes, we try to teach by example.  With those people who are only concerned about what they are getting, versus what they are giving, they aren’t going to ever get the message or lesson we are trying to share.  So should we do it at all?

Help should be freely given, without expectation of anything in return, and done with a cheerful heart.

That’s something my mother has tried to teach me.  I’m not sure I’ve totally got the lesson down pat, but…it does go a long ways towards maintaining my own contentment.  It’s still hard to accept the rejection of a plea for help, and I’ll admit–that hurt doesn’t magically disappear, but it also won’t kill me.  I’m a lot tougher than that.

The whole deal of helping others is sort of the idea behind the concept of paying it forward.  I’ve had total strangers freely offer me badly needed help, on the spot.  I often didn’t know their names and never found out.  There is no way to repay those people for the kindness they showed by putting their backs into making a bad situation better.  Therefore, by my own rules, the only way to repay those people’s kindness is by paying it forward, and random acts of kindness to strangers is one way to do that.

Okay, I’m not wealthy, and I can’t do amazing things.  Sometimes though, it is the little things that make the difference to someone.  Like giving a loaf of bread to a homeless guy, or a few dollars to someone who’s in a jam and will never pay it back.  Maybe it’s used clothing donated to someone, just because they needed something more.  Maybe it’s a ride to a guy with a flat tire and no spare, or a quart of oil to someone at a rest area.  It might be donating food or my labor to a church or organization to prepare a holiday meal for those who may not have one otherwise, whether due to living alone or lack of funds to buy the food.  It might be herding stranded travelers to an impromptu shelter at a local building.  It doesn’t matter–as long as it is help that I give freely.

You have to care.  Even if its a plate of cookies to your neighbors for Christmas, you have to put effort into it.  The gift of a smile to a stranger might be the only thing they are given all day, so why not make it yours?

Don’t promise what you won’t give.  Do more than what you think is “necessary” to make your world a better place.  If every single one of us donated just 24 hours in a year to making our communities better, we’d all be living in a world that looked a lot more like paradise.

Stop being so self-centered and selfish.

The truth is, he who dies with the most toys won’t win a damned thing.  So, what are those “toys” doing for you?  Is your fancy McMansion a happy home, filled with laughter and love?

Think about your own life.  All too often, we will look back and realize that our happiest times were often the times we thought were the “tough” times, when money and material goods were nearly non-existent and we were able to experience life with family and friends without worrying about our wallets or our toys.

Love life as it is.   Pay it forward.  Share your “toys” with others.  Life is an amazing thing when we’re no longer concerned about whether we’re going to be “wasting” our time and effort helping others.  Maybe it will make the difference to them, and maybe it won’t…but in the meantime, it will make a world of difference in the person you are now, as well as in the future.