The Pickle Jar...

Here is a story that was sent to me by one of my friends. I just had to share it with you because it reminded me a lot of my Dad and his money jar...

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar . They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly 'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.'

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.'

He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar.

As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.'

No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. 'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.'

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith.

The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.

She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.

This truly touched my heart. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.

Now, my friend, let's go share a fresh cup of coffee...

Do People Really Watch This Stuff...?

I was surfing around the channels of my television, something that I very seldom do. I didn't find anything that I wanted to watch, in fact...I found a lot of shows that I can't imagine anyone wanting to watch! What in the world has happened to our expectations that we accept some of these shows touted as entertainment?

What entertainment can anyone find in a show that focuses on people getting parking tickets? I kid you not...this whole show is based on people getting parking tickets and their reaction.
Their reaction..?? What do you think their reaction is going to be? They knowingly took a chance and parked illegally hoping they would not get caught, and yet get caught they did! So other than accept the fact that they made a mistake, they are going to lash out at anyone and anything close enough. The fact that a video camera is there is like adding fuel to the fire, causing a more hostile reaction that usual as the wrongdoer will act up for the camera.

Now if anyone had told me that a TV show based on stopping and ticketing traffic speeders, I would have laughed. Yet there it was, in all it's glory (?)... It's amazing to me the stories that people come up with when caught exceeding the posted speed limited. You could make a better show using the excuses than in the act of giving people a ticket. At least, that's the way it seems to me.

Oh, and you just have to love the show about the jerks getting booked into different jails across the country. The antics of some of these drunks, hookers, thieves, druggies, and thugs must register high on someones enjoyment meter, as the show is in it's second or third season. I guess I am just too thick to see the value of this show...

Here's the thing...I'm in my 60's and I have yet to get a single ticket! I've been driving since I was 16 years old with several of those years driving both a truck and a taxi, and I've never even gotten a parking ticket! The secret to my success? That's easy...I obey the law! Simple, huh?

Now I can guarantee you that you will never find a television show based on people obeying the law. Even though it's the right thing to do, there is just no entertainment value to it. We would rather have our children grow up watching people at their very worse behaviour, with plenty of murder, madness, and general mayhem thrown in for color.

Most of the time, if I watch television, it's the old movies or the weather channel. Most of the news I get from the Internet. Now to be honest, there are a couple of shows that I will watch with a clear conscience , but I won't even call them by name. All I can say is that the good guys are the heroes, not the bad guys. Guess I'm just funny that way!

Here's a thought...let's go sit on the patio with a fresh cup of coffee and practise the dying art of conversation, OK? OK...!

Gotta Take This Morning Off...

I'm going to take this morning off to get some things done around here that I've been putting off. You know how it is...you put things off and put them off until they really add up. Now I don't have any choice except to get them done.

I did want to say that yesterday was a good day for me. I visited with a special friend of mine on the phone...and that's something I very seldom do. The visit led to a lot of smiles and laughs nearly the whole time.

See, that's the thing about friends. If you are down, they can bring you up. If you need to vent, they will listen without judging. If you need to bounce an idea or opinion off someone, they are always available. If you just want to get an honest opinion about something, your friends will give you an honest answer to your question in such a way as to not hurt your feelings. Most importantly, friends are always ready to accept you for who really are, for better or worse! What a wonderful treasure friends are...

So remember, friendship only grows stronger if you share it. You enjoy it most when you give it away, and one good friend can be worth a thousand smiles.

Now, let's share a friendly cup of coffee...OK?

Time To Make Some Money...! And An Update...

We haven't talked business in a while, so let's take this opportunity to do that. I have added a new opportunity to my own portfolio and I'd like to share it with you. The other one is a program that's been working for me very well and, in fact, is becoming my favorite program. They both appear to me to be rock solid and I think they will be around for a while.

The first one I'd like you to look at is the first new program I have joined in a long time. The options to surf daily or be a non-surfer are available. The ad packs are start at $5.00 and the daily percents are 5% for surfers and 4% for the non-surfers, with the referral comissions being 5%. Why not take a look at it ? You can find it here.

The second one I want to tell you about is , of course, DrivenRapidWealth. This is a great advertising venue and the ad packs are only $10. They expire after earning 200% and the daily profit share adds up fairly quickly. Once again I invite you to take a look.

Just a reminder here that the new $10 line starts at Deep Cycler for those that are playing. The time for the new line is 10:00 AM EST...so try and be as early as possible because the first in will probably be the first to cycle, OK?

Forget what you just read about the new line at Deep Cycler...it is going to be cancelled!! OK?

From the Admin:
I have disabled the new line. It appears that my fears were correct and the server couldnt handle the traffic. I'm going to refund everyone that managed to spend and figure out a solution for it.


That's all I'm gonna talk about today...so let's go get some fresh coffee, ok?

The Hummingbird Feeder...

I wanted to tell you about my hummingbird feeder. It's nothing fancy...just a small four position feeder made from plastic with little perches in front of tiny fake yellow flowers.

It hangs on the outside edge of my patio from an old rusty nail where the red, sweet liquid can be seen in the long glass bottle. The red nectar acts like a neon sign at a diner, saying "Open For Business". On an average day, the traffic starts fairly early and continues off and on until just about dark as the wonderfully colorful hummingbirds stop and stock up on a little shot of energy.

The day before the hurricane came through here, the wind began picking up and the rain started pretty early in the day. Still, the hummingbirds came by for their daily sugar boost, ignoring the hefty breeze and falling rain. This is not optional for them, as they are storing up fuel for their migratory flight south for the winter months.

We started moving plants inside, securing lawn furniture, taping windows, removing the hanging baskets and in general battening down the hatches so to speak in order to prepare for the fury that we knew was coming. Finally, everything was moved except for the feeder, which was still serving as a feeding station to several birds. I decided to wait for a while to move it...

As the afternoon wore on and the sky darkened, the wind began to show it's intent more and more, making a growling sound as it steadily blew across wires and through trees. It rocked the tree branches, rattled the siding and carport roofs and in general starting flexing it's muscles, while issuing this final warning that the Storm was coming on full blast!

In this prelude to disaster, the little plastic hummingbird feeder hanging from a rusty nail just swung gently back and forth as if to say "I can't go yet...the birds are still coming". Sure enough, one showed up, landed on a small plastic perch and began to feed while hanging on for dear life. I left the feeder hanging there and hoped for the best.

By midnight the hurricane was almost in full force. The winds came through around 1:00am at 80 to 100 MPH. Fences were blown down like playing cards. Large branches were ripped from trees and thrown all around like a giant choosing toothpicks. Carport roofs were torn away as easily as popping the top on a soft drink can. Some siding was blown off as easily as tearing the cardboard on a cereal box. I tried to open my door to the patio, but because of the suction created by the wind it would not open at all.

As I went to bed early Saturday morning with the Storm raging outside, I listened to the wind rattle the windows and drive the rain sideways into places that were not used to getting rained on. The power had long since gone out all over the area due to downed power lines and blown transformers that go out with the sound of a bomb going off in a war zone. Finally I managed to fall into a troubled and restless sleep, waking often as one thing or another slammed into my outside wall, then dozing back off.

The next morning the quiet hung gently in the air in sharp contrast to the night before as I stepped outside to survey the damage left behind. The sun was shining with a warm, friendly welcome, song birds could be heard as they heralded the coming of a new and better day, and in the midst of all the destruction and damage, the roses were still blooming on the bushes in the flower bed.

Then I saw it...the small little hummingbird feeder with the glass jar and plastic flowers. It was still hanging by it's slender wire from the old rusty nail as it offered up it's red, sweet nectar only slightly watered down from the rain. Proudly it seemed to call out "I'm still here...open for business".

As I stared at it with unbelieving eyes, in flew a beautiful ruby-throated hummingbird, landing lightly on one of the little perches, and sticking his tongue deep inside the tiny yellow flower made from plastic began to drink his fill.

He knew that Nature would provide, that the food would be there, and never questioned for an instant that the small, plastic hummingbird feeder would be there hanging from it's rusty nail.

Such is the wisdom of Nature! Now...how about some fresh coffee, my friend?

I Like Being Old...!

Here are some thought on getting old I wanted to share with you this morning!

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it !)

Now I'm going to have another cup of coffee...want to join me?

Sometimes Simple Is Better...!

This is probably the best explaination of the human spirit that I have ever heard...

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all . One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Sometimes the simple explainations are the best! Let's all be careful of which "Wolf" we feed in our own selves...

Now, let's go get a fresh cup of coffee, my friend!