Good News

Threads of Love

Tue, 6 Apr 2010 10:25:10 -0700

by Joanie Love

When I was a little girl I used to spend weekends with my Great Grandmother. I called her Nana, she taught me how to be a good person and she meant everything to me. She embraced all of the silliness that comes with having a child around. She would faithfully attended church every Sunday, so staying weekends at her apartment meant I had to go to church also. I disliked the long sermons of church and I made a career of complaining about it. My Nana was patient and sweet even with my complaints. The people at the church were kind and afterwards there was usually a potluck of sorts. My Nana never forced beliefs into my head; she never forced me to do anything and that is why I loved her. She allowed me to be myself and learn from my own mistakes while gently guiding me along the way.

Fun Fridays at Nana’s place were the best. I used to build forts out of furniture that was my thing. I used to take the cushions off her couch and stack them like a house and use her kitchen chairs. Once I even used her walker! Then I’d throw sheets over it all and take all of my stuffed animals and my favorite book inside. Nana would laugh and usually encourage me by saying, “oh here sweetie, use this one that will make a nice house” I always told her it was a magical fort and not simply a house. Nana would sit at her sewing machine and I would read while listening to the sound of her rhythmic sewing. I loved those days. I felt so safe inside my Nana’s house and then wrapped up even closer inside of her belongings. You see you can feel a persons energy and love that way. The constant security of knowing they will always be there. Like hugging someone you love and breathing in their scent. The smell of her sheets, her carpet and her boney old body. That was my comfort. She loved me unconditionally and I was beautiful in her eyes.

My Nana taught me about unconditional love, tolerance and acceptance. She taught me that you do not need to be a particular faith because we are all one. She taught me to love all living things no matter how small. She taught me to love others freely for the fact that they are human beings and worthy of love. She taught me this through her actions not her words. When my Nana got older she was on a meal delivery service called Meals on Wheels. I had grown up and was working with disabled children in a group home. My job allowed me the flexibility to call and check in on her. It became an evening routine for me to call her at 4pm and ask what she had for dinner. She began saying some pretty odd things like, ‘pudding and a salmon patty’ So, I called the agency to confirm the diet and delivery. I found out that for the last year my Nana had been giving her meals to a homeless man that slept nearby. I went to her house and I said, “you are paying for this and you are just giving the food away” her response to me was, “Well sweetie I am no longer able to cook for him”. That is how she taught me tolerance, love and acceptance.

My Nana died of Lymphoma cancer when I was 19 years old, she lived 89 strong years. She fought until the end but it was for the families sake not her own. She took oral chemotherapy and her little bald head with a few fuzzy white hairs and age spots was sad to see. She wore a warm little pink cap much of the time. The look in her eyes said she was peaceful, not in pain and ready to leave this world. Nothing can really describe the feeling of loosing a loved one. For me it was like a violin trying to play a beautiful song with no strings. Her funeral was lovely and every pew was filled. Every family member but me spoke. But when it came my turn to speak I stood staring at the crowd. I did not want to cry or tell a stories. Instead I straightened my back, lifted my chin and I began to sing. It came from deep inside me, a beautiful voice that carried throughout the room. I had been a singing for several years, but this was a crowd I never wanted in front of me. I sang an old favorite of my Nana’s called ‘He Walks With Me’. I knew the song from church. I had to sing it to somehow show her that I had been paying attention all those years in church and that was my goodbye to her. I did it for her. For the woman who’s scent I breathed in with my every ounce of my heart. The woman for who’s simple presence comforted me. I did for the woman that meant so much more to me then she could have ever known.

I found out later that all that sewing was for a domestic violence shelter. The women in the church would give her pieces of material and her little old fingers would make them beautiful. Once completed, they would simply hand the blankets over with no message from the church. My Nana would write a little unsigned note that said, “I love you, you are special in your own beauty” That phrase is true. Love is everywhere, it is inside of you and it is inside of me we just have to be willing open our eyes to see it.

A Father's Legacy - A Story of Love, Hope & Faith

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 17:14:19 -0700

By Larry Agresto and Merrill Moore

In May of 1995, I suddenly lost my first wife and mother of my two daughters, Jody to a very rare illness called a pheo-chromacytoma. In short, it’s a benign tumor on the adrenal gland, which grows until it explodes, when this happens the adrenal gland malfunctions & remains permanently open. Over time, this causes the heart to race based on an over dose of adrenalin & epinephrine. Jody had a major heart attack at home, right in my arms. All of this transpired within 24 hours. It felt like a horrible dream.

Robert Frost once said “There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go.” The girls and I had no choice but to take a new direction in our lives. I’m not ashamed to tell you I was terrified. I was always a pretty good father but I needed reinforcements, this was new, scary territory. I tapped into a spiritual strength I never knew I had. I spoke out loud to God whenever I was alone, in the shower, in the car, at night in bed. I asked to be blessed with divine guidance, courage, strength, and to say and do the right things for my girls. I began meditating daily for about 20 minutes, which I still do to this day. I visualized my girls and I doing things together and I saw them thriving. Those were my daily images, only positive outcomes. I found comfort in books like Kubler Ross’s “On Death and Dying”, Hope Edelman’s “Motherless Daughter” & Cosby’s “Fatherhood”. I learned first hand what being grateful for life and those we love, truly means.

I worked very hard at balancing what was normal for my girls and not ignoring the death of their Mother. Julia, Lauren and I hugged and cried every day. I made certain that they knew emotionally, that we had one another. If I sensed they were going into a shell, I would try to interact and relate to them by asking them questions about friends, clothes, school etc. I made it a point to do everything as a family. We went grocery shopping together, out for ice cream and had them help make dinner on a regular basis. I wanted them to feel secure and know their Dad wasn’t going anywhere.

I had developed insomnia. Every night for weeks, I would sit on the floor of Jody’s walk in closet, pick out one of her blouses and wrap it around my neck and shoulders. Breathing her in, I’d cry myself to sleep. At first I didn’t tell the girls about it, but something told me to share it all with them. I think it helped the girls feel okay about their own experiences and sharing them with me. After a week home, the school counselor and I agreed that my daughters lives should get back to normal. So, Lauren and Julia went back to school. I remember it being a beautiful sunny day. I decided to walk the 200 yards to the bus stop to meet them. I could tell they were upset as they got off the bus, which I’d expected of their first day back. We walked in tense silence, once we entered the safe haven of the house, both girls burst into tears. After a few moments of a much needed emotional release, they shared their day with me.

Amazingly they’d discovered a pair of sisters, one in Lauren’s class and the other in Julia’s who’d lost their mother to breast cancer, one week before our loss. I remembered thinking to myself “I need to reach out to Kevin (the father) and just let him know he's not alone.” Immediately, the thought of creating a Support Group for fathers who'd lost their wives entered my mind and was put into action soon thereafter. And thus began my journey toward becoming a Life Coach.

I started looking at everything differently, I turned down a promotion at work promising more money and more travel, and accepted a lower level position to be closer to home and more available to my girls. My self-reflection eventually led me to completely walk away from corporate America to focus on my Life Coach career. As my priorities shifted, I’d become aware of the joy, peace and love that are possible in the simple every day things. My previously conceived notions of what I wanted for my life fell away. I know that when life closes a door another one always opens. It is my deepest desire to help others find the best path to their open door.

Think Magic!

Larry Agresto is happily married and lives in Boston Massachusetts. He has written several
e-books including; The Principals of Success, What's Stopping You, The Journey and my Coaching Program, The 100 Day Breakthrough. Presently, he is writing his first published work, “A New Beginning”

You can learn more about Larry Agresto by visiting his website at www.larryagresto.com

How Journal Buddies was Born

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 10:29:27 -0700

by Jill Schoenberg

One day, I was sorting through a keepsake box of great stuff from my childhood (I have many boxes such as this in my storage) and discovered diaries from when I was a child between the ages of 8 - 12. As I read the entries, I was thrilled to re-discover these musings from long ago. I was even more thrilled to gain this precious insight into my thoughts and feelings at such a tender age. Sadly, I had only recorded a handful of entries in each diary and was left with a deep yearning to read and learn more about myself as a child.

My yearning to know more about my thoughts, ideas and feelings persisted. Over and over again this one question haunted my mind — “Why did I stop writing?” The answer came to me quickly. As a child I was simply overwhelmed with all of the blank lines in my diary and felt obligated to fill each page. This took the fun out of keeping a diary. Furthermore, I was terrified that someone would find and read my diary and discover all of my secrets (I have two older brothers, so I’m sure you can understand my terror at the time!). I was saddened by these realizations.

Soon, I began to ask myself, “How can I help kids of today to start journaling and stick with it?”

Well, the idea for Journal Buddies came to me through a brief and sudden moment of inspiration. It went like this — make journaling interactive, fun, creative, and flexible. Get rid of all the blank lines, make it a game, give kids permission to journal in the style that matches their personality, Also, encourage them to use a journal to celebrate their greatness and the fear of being discovered is greatly lessened, if not gone altogether.

Well let me tell you this - that brief and sudden moment of inspiration has changed my life in more amazing and positive ways than I can count! My inspired idea for Journal Buddies led me to much research and learning about the book publishing industry. I was determined to find the best way to publish my book.

After pitching my books to some major, medium and online publishers (and after much rejection), I received an acceptance letter from an online publisher. I was thrilled, that is until I read the legal terms of our agreement. They would own the book, the idea, the designs and all concepts, and the cost for me to purchase my own idea back from the company was, well, astronomical!

I returned to my research more determined than ever to find a way to publish my book, own my ideas and create my dreams in my own, creative way. That my dear friends is how my publishing company & my Journal Buddies books were born. And what an adventure is has been and continues to be!

What thrills me the most about my work, however, is when I get amazing feedback from Moms, teachers, grandparents about Journal Buddies. “This is one of the most constructive books that I’ve seen for young girls in a long time!! With 2 nieces under 14 and a 4-year-old daughter, I love finding things that are confidence building for them, not just novelty items. I love this book, it definitely gives a girl a chance to reflect on her awesomeness and magnificence!” -Casey Deuce

If you would like to learn more these exciting and innovative journals, please visit the Journal Buddies media room. There you can download free excerpts from the books that explain exactly how Journal Buddies works and a free sample journal entry from both the girls and boys books are available, too. There is also information about book awards I’ve won and even an author interview.

To learn more, visit www.JournalBuddies.com and click on the Media Room link in the upper, right-hand corner of the page.

Raggedy Ann

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 22:39:02 -0700

by Merrill Moore

When I was a little girl, I stayed at my Grandmother’s house all the time. I loved it there. My favorite childhood memory has always been of my Gram reading to me. She read many books over the years, but the most memorable were all the old Raggedy Ann and Andy stories. I can remember lying in bed next to her listening to the gentle changes in her speech, for each of the characters voices and knew she enjoyed reading to me just as much as I loved listening. The adventures these two loveable rag dolls went on and their propensity for kindness, patience and love taught me a lot as a little girl. Makes me smile just thinking about those beloved stories. When I found out about a program called the Raggedy Ann and Andy Patient Care Program, I knew I had to write about it.

There are participating hospitals and health care centers all over the country. Volunteers attend a 25-hour training session. On successful completion, they are outfitted with an authentic Raggedy Ann or Raggedy Andy costume, and assigned to specific units of a hospital.

To many, Raggedy Ann and Andy are symbols of love, kindness, joy, safety, encouragement and hope. They don’t prod or poke, give advice, or deliver bad news. They are also non-judgmental, so people feel safe to share what is on their mind. Even small-talk can be a welcome distraction from pain, but speaking freely about the difficult emotions and issues that accompany a serious illness, is a rare opportunity, especially for patients who have no support from family and friends. As Quoted from website.

This program asks its volunteers for a once a week, two-hour commitment. During that time they will visit 15-20 patients. If extra special care is needed, family members or nurses can contact Adventures in Caring by phone, fax or email to make a request.

Hospitals are looking for ways to meet the growing demand for high-touch care for the whole person. Nurses don’t always have the time to give patients the extra care they know is needed.

“When our residents receive a visit from Raggedy Ann, amazing changes take place. Residents who are lethargic perk up and smile. Those who are withdrawn decide to go for a walk with Raggedy Ann. Residents who are bedridden feel loved and cared for by the remarkable skills of active listening, the smiles and personal attention that Raggedys give so freely.” -Suzanne Hollrah, Former Resident Service Director, Solvang Lutheran Home.

With this magical program nurses feel they can delegate some of the extra attention patients need to an Ann or an Andy; this fulfills the need for hugs, smiles, holding hands and listening carefully to patients who are withdrawn, confused or emotionally distressed. Families that cannot be present as often as they’d like can be at ease knowing that someone else will be there as a friend on a regular basis. “Raggedy Ann became a special part of the last month of my mother’s life which was spent on the sixth floor of Cottage Hospital. At a time when neither my family nor my sister’s family could be with my parents Raggedy Ann spent time with them both, a ministry I especially appreciate because I could not be there. I do not have the words to express what Raggedy Ann’s caring attention means to us.”
-A Daughter of a Terminal Cancer Patient

After about an hour of Gram reading, my eyes would start to droop, I would hear her get quite and start to get up which would always snap me awake, “read more please” I would say in my groggy little voice. She would always continue until my eyes would close again. The consoling comfortable feeling I got from these stories wasn’t only because of Grams lovely voice but from a knowing, a general knowledge that in Raggedyland, Ann and Andy could get out of any sticky situation, with friendship, kindness, compassion and love as their only weaponry. Those are the best kind of friends to have at any age or stage in ones life.

To find an opportunity to volunteer as a Raggedy, find out if your hospital is a participating location or read more about his wonderful program please go to: http://www.adventuresincaring.org/services_ra_program.shtml

The Power of Blessing EVERYTHING… Yes Everything

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 23:47:30 -0700

by Laurie Santos

Many years ago, I was an angry person. I wanted to always be right and I couldn’t be told I was wrong. I had an answer for everything even if I didn’t really have an answer. Arguing and debating were traits I considered to be my best and if I did not like your opinion, I’d simply cut you out of my life without any discussion and without your awareness. These are things I am not proud of but sadly, this was how I lived my life for some time.

Thank goodness a lot has changed for me because of some choices I made to put ego aside, to self-examine constantly as well as to “stretch” myself beyond image and reputation. It has taken some work, okay a lot of work, and I might add, ongoing, consistent practice, but at the end of the day I’ve noticed I am far more happy and fulfilled.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in my life is to bless everything. Had I learned this a long time ago, I bet I would have salvaged some friendships and prevented some unfortunate circumstances.

What I mean by “blessing” is to literally make an acknowledgment or declaration that, “I bless this person or bless that thing,”the very thing or person that might not be or resonance or preference. I know this might sound strange but you will be pleasantly surprised at the huge dividends and benefits when you choose to bless everything versus curse it all. When we take a step back, pause and bless something, we are choosing to see the “good” or the positive in that very thing that might not initially “land” with us.

Some things I’ve chosen to bless that have helped me reframe my occasional negative perspectives:

1. Bills. I choose to call them “investments” and I “get to” bless those investments. I believe our “bills” are investments in our warmth, shelter, future, businesses, education, etc. By stating you “get to” pay your investments, you are signaling to your mind that you are at choice rather than sitting in obligation. Doesn’t that feel so much better? Start practicing this immediately and notice the effects!

2. Negative experiences, such as a break-up or a transition of a friendship: Now many folks may say I am crazy but trust me, bless these experiences because they offer many golden nuggets of learning, stretching, growing, developing, and improving. When my fiance decided to unexpectedly end our engagement last year, I could have chosen to curse him but instead I chose to bless him. I blessed him on his future journey and in his life. I also chose to ask myself, “What I could possibly learn here, what message was waiting for me and what were the blessings?” As a result, I feel I have processed our transition far easier, with far more grace and elegance and I have realized many more dreams because of our break-up.

3. Death: I know many folks think this is a difficult topic but I encourage you start believing that we actually never die. Sounds strange but true. Our soul is eternal and when you start looking at life this way, you realize that your loved ones have never really died, they have actually moved onto their next life. Much more comforting isn’t it? Bless your loved ones even in their death and surprisingly you will feel a strength and bliss that is inexplicable.

These are just a few examples of some of the challenging things in life we may experience on a frequent basis but I promise, when you start to Bless, you will feel Blessed. Make a promise to yourself to bless one new thing each day, you will be grateful you did ;)

Laurie A. Santos is a Certified Life Coach, Speaker and Radio Host. You can learn more about her and her work by visiting www.ExtremeDreamTraining.com and www.BlogTalkRadio.com

Why the Arts Bring Peace to Humanity

Tue, 3 Mar 2009 22:21:53 -0800

This was forwarded to us at GodBlessHumanity.com and we are pleased to
share it with our guests.

Welcome address to freshman class at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl
Paulnack, pianist and director of music at Boston Conservatory.

"One of my parents' deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not
properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn't be appreciated. I had very
good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they
imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be
more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my
mother's remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she
said, "you're WASTING your SAT scores." On some level, I think, my parents
were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was.
And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They
just weren't really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a
little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the "arts and
entertainment" section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your
kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with
entertainment, in fact it's the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a
little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient
Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you; the Greeks said that music and
astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study
of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music
was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden
objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside
our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside
us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet
for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940.
Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany.
He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a
cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.
He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and
a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a
cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with
these specific players in mind.. It was performed in January 1941 for four
thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the
most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why
would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing
music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water,
to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother
with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have
visual art; it wasn't just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people
created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on
survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must
be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without
hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they
were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human
spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are.. Art is one of the ways
in which we say, "I am alive, and my life has meaning."

On September 12, 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I
reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world.. I
sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily
routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted
the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys
and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even
matter? Isn't this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now,
given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent,
pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in
time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of
getting through that week.. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I
contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And
then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn't shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We
didn't play cards to pass the time, we didn't watch TV, we didn't shop, we
most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I
saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang
around fire houses, people sang "We Shall Overcome." Lots of people sang
America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was
the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York
Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first
communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the
beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the
airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that
very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not
part of "arts and entertainment" as the newspaper section would have us
believe. It's not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of
our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a
basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our
lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a
way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can't with our
minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber's heart-wrenchingly beautiful piece
Adagio for Strings. If you don't know it by that name, then some of you may
know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie
Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music
either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a
walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn't know you had. Music can
slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what's really going on inside
us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no
music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been
some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something
very predictable happens at weddings—people get all pent up with all kinds
of emotions, and then there's some musical moment where the action of the
wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something.. And even
if the music is lame, even if the quality isn't good, predictably 30 or 40
percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of
moments after the music starts. Music allows us to move around those big
invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can
express what we feel even when we can't talk about it.

Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the
dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the
right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at
exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the
music stripped out, it wouldn't happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the
understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I'll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of
my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand
concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were
important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it
made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played
for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers,
foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took
place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began,
as we often do, with Aaron Copland's Sonata, which was written during World
War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland's, a young pilot who was
shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the
pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program
notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we
decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out
and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the
front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was
clearly a soldier—even in his late 70's, it was clear from his buzz-cut
hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his
life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be
moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it
wasn't the first time I've heard crying in a concert and we went on with the
concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk
about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances
in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed
pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had
to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him
again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain
himself.

What he told us was this: "During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in
an aerial combat situation where one of my team's planes was hit.. I watched
my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes
which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords
so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop
away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about
this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this
memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I
didn't understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came
out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost
pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do
that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?"

Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between
internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have
ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect,
somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost
friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This
is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year's freshman class
when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge
your sons and daughters with is this:

"If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing
appendectomies, you'd take your work very seriously because you would
imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your
emergency room and you're going to have to save their life. Well, my
friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and
bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that
is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well
you do your craft.

You're not here to become an entertainer, and you don't have to sell
yourself. The truth is you don't have anything to sell; being a musician
isn't about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I'm not an
entertainer; I'm a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue
worker. You're here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a
spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works
with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come
into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I
expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on
this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual
understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don't expect it will come from a
government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it
to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought
us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for
humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible,
internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists,
because that's what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of
9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our
internal, invisible lives."

Writing Explorations with Teens

Mon, 2 Mar 2009 22:30:40 -0800

By Ann Sutliff

Teenagers are simply little kids in big bodies. When people ask me how I could possibly have spent thirty-one years of my life as a high school teacher, the statement above seems to be more believable than the fact that I love my students and consider it a challenge to help them navigate the choppy waters of adolescence. In a world that is becoming increasingly stressful, intense and dangerous, my students need someone who will interact with them in a nurturing, loving way. I was reminded of this yet again recently in my writing class.

One of my objectives for students in my classes is for them to become comfortable sharing their writing in a supportive environment. I had just finished some writing of my own about my ex-husband’s suicide and how my sons and I were able to survive the unique form of grief associated with suicide. I struggled with whether or not to share this with them; the piece is intensely personal and I had poured my heart out in it. I know that teenagers don’t always know how to handle emotional situations and I prepared myself for inappropriate reactions.

I began my presentation by telling them that I was scared to share this with them. I explained what the writing was about and my struggle to decide whether to show it to them or not. I told them that ultimately I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t share with them as I had expected them to share with us. The room was silent as I took a deep breath and placed the writing on the ELMO (overhead projector).

As the students read my story, the room continued to be silent. When they were done reading, there were no comments or questions and I began to wonder if I had done the right thing by sharing something so personal. In about ten minutes, I had my answer. One by one, my students starting coming up to me to thank me for sharing, to tell me that they liked my writing and then there was Kevin.

Kevin is a very popular, handsome boy and a good student. He always has a smile on his face and enjoys playing practical jokes on me. At this point in the term, we were working on portfolios based on themes. Kevin came up to me shortly after I had shared my writing and handed me a paper on which he had started writing a rough draft. He wanted to know if what he was writing was OK. His story was written in third person and was about a little boy who lost his dad to an overdose of PCP. He wrote about the fact that even when his dad was there physically, he was never really “there”. He went on to write about this little boy growing up and watching other little boys with their fathers and feeling sad and very angry. He said that the little boy grew up trying to hide his feelings by being popular, a bit of a class clown, and not talking about this tragedy in his life.

I knew that the next words out of my mouth would be critical. I used my calmest voice and assured him that what he was writing was very powerful. He asked again if it was OK and I reassured him that it was. I then told him I had a feeling it was a true story. He waited a minute and I let him decide whether he trusted me or not. Finally, he admitted that he was writing about his life.

All of this occurred at the end of the term and my students started changing their portfolios to reflect the struggles in their lives. One girl had recently lost her grandmother and dedicated her portfolio to her. Another was engaged to a Marine who had been deployed and with whom she hadn’t spoken for two weeks. As each student shared portfolios, there were many tears and lots of hugs and then came Kevin.

As I had anticipated, his portfolio was about loss, particularly the loss of his dad. All too soon, the bell rang and the class was over. I was surrounded by my students who wanted hugs and to tell me that they loved me. I kept an eye on Kevin, and caught him before he left the room. He admitted that he was in a bad place, but wouldn’t go any further. He told me not to worry.

The following week as we began our next term, I went to one of the school counselors and said that we needed to follow up on Kevin. My ‘mom radar’ was going off at high volume and I knew we needed to hook him up with support quickly. The counselor found Kevin and suggested the three of us have a chat. Kevin actually came to my room to get me so we could walk to the counseling center together. I told him, “You really didn’t think I was going to let that story go without some follow up, did you?” He shrugged his shoulders and said that he wasn’t sure. We had a difficult talk; Kevin told us that he had never thought of school as a place to get help; that he just got up, went to school, and went home. It looked physically painful for him as he tried to open up, but the emotional walls were so thick, he was having difficulty breaking through. We ended the meeting by giving him a list of resources for grief and loss counseling and telling him that we were both here whenever he needed us.

Teenagers need love and nurturing. So many of them go through experiences many of us can only imagine. Their gruff exteriors and intimidating attitudes are usually hiding a deeper pain and many of them see the world as a place to hurt before it can hurt them. Over all the years I have spent with high school kids, the main lesson I have learned is that they are fun, are often looking for boundaries and rules to help them know how to behave, and that they respond to love and nurturing much better than to anger and ridicule. In short - Teenagers are little kids in big bodies.

To contact Ann Sutliff please email her at asutliff@hpsk12.net

Boss of the Year!

Mon, 2 Mar 2009 22:27:33 -0800

by Gayle Etcheverry

Most headlines featuring banks these days are filled with corruption, bankruptcy and greed. However, there is one bank in the Miami, Florida area that is shining a bright light on its employees in the best way - sharing its profits with them!

Leonard Abess, Jr. sold a majority stake in City National Bank shares and took $60 million of the proceeds (of his own money) and gave it to the tellers, bookkeepers, clerks and everyone else on the payroll of his bank. Each and every one of the 399 workers received a bonus and also 72 other former employees he reconnected with to share the profits with.

The bonuses ranged in amounts from tens of thousands of dollars and even in amounts more than $100,000! Some bosses talk a good game of saying how much they appreciate their employees, but Leonard Abess Jr sure walks his talk!

All of the bonuses were done in secret and no one knew they were coming. He didn’t even show up after they were handed out to lap up all of the ‘thank you’s’ from the employees, although many wrote their gratitude to him in letters.

When asked why he did this he replied, “I had long dreamed of a way to reward employees. I had been thinking of creating an employee stock option plan before selling the bank. Those people who joined me and stayed with me at the bank with no promise of equity - I always thought someday I’m going to surprise them. I sure as heck don’t need the money.”

Back in 1946, his father Leonard L. Abess founded City National Bank with Baron de Hirsch Meyer as one of the only post war commercial banks in the area. The young Leonard Jr began his career in the print shop of the bank and slowly worked his way up the corporate ladder. All of these steps gave him a deep appreciation for the importance of employees and the success of a business. “I saw that if the president doesn’t come to work, its not a big deal,” he said, “but if the tellers don’t show up then there is a serious problem.”

It is obvious that Leonard Abess Jr sees the whole picture in how teamwork makes the dream work. Leonard, our hats are off to you - thank you for making such a generous gesture and sharing your profits with them!

Racecar driver goes GREEN - Carbon Free Girl

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 08:46:48 -0800

By Merrill Moore

There is something very appealing about a female racecar driver. Not just to men who might find it sexy, but to women who can be inspired by the courageousness and self confidence that it takes to walk into a male-centric field like this and say “hey I can do that”. Leilani Münter does it with style, wisdom, humor and Eco-panache!

She currently drives the No. 57 SMART Papers Dallara in the Firestone Indy Lights, the development league of Indycar, which runs on 100% ethanol. Prior to her debut in open wheel racing, she was a stock car driver in the NASCAR Elite division. She also worked as a special correspondent for NASCAR.com for three years and currently as a driving instructor for Fast Track High Performance Driving School in Harrisburg North Carolina. Münter earned a degree in Biology, specializing in Ecology, Behavior, and Evolution for the University of California in San Diego. She is also a long time vegetarian. She’s performed stunts in the movie “The Scorpion King” and was a photo double for Catherine Zeta-Jones in “America’s Sweethearts” and “Traffic.”

Not only is she an accomplished racecar driver, she has taken it upon herself to green up NASCAR. “We are not an eco-friendly sport,” she says. She looks forward to convincing racing’s major players to develop more fuel-efficient engines and environment-friendly venues. “A lot of NASCAR tracks don’t even have recycling programs,” she says. Before entering a race, Münter always purchases an acre of endangered tropical rainforest (roughly $120) to offset her carbon footprint. Münter has blogged on her website about the need for NASCAR to make the switch to a renewable clean energy source. She was quoted as saying “Why not get women’s products involved? I’d love to drive the Tampax car. That would really mess up the guy drivers for a while.” Hey maybe some of the more eco-friendly tampon companies would be willing?? Although a pink racecar would be AWESOME!

She blogs in the green section of the Huffington Post and is quite active in the on going struggle for environmental legislation. Her crusade has taken her to Capitol Hill with the National Wildlife Federation to speak on behalf of the Lieberman Warner Climate Security Act.

Leilani has two websites: a self-titled racing-oriented site, LeilaniMunter.com and the green influenced, CarbonFreeGirl.com. They both look great, are easy to navigate and host a plethora of information into the life and times of Leilani Münter.

“Carbon Free Girl” sounds like a super hero, and to many of us environmental enthusiasts she is a hero. Zoom Zoom Leilani!!

Feed Every One - It’s Not Just About the Food

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 08:43:01 -0800

By Melanie Mills

I had just moved to Indianapolis, IN from Denver, CO in the fall and was evaluating my intentions for the upcoming year. I was in a new community, in a new home and I was wondering about ways I could connect in service to my new home. I looked at a number of volunteer interests that I was passionate about, but found with an erratic travel schedule connected with work, being at a volunteer training every Tuesday for one month was out of the question.

Inspired by the service projects and rounds of Kashi Ashram in Florida, I decided to start a “Service Saturday”. I would invite my friends to bring coats we could give away (it is cold in Indiana in January), bagels and toppings and we would brew a big vat of coffee. Our first rounds were conducted with 7 of us who could all fit in the same SUV.

On this day as we headed downtown to serve the homeless of our community, we landed at a day shelter called Horizon House which was established to get our homeless neighbors out of the cycle of homelessness. The director was more than welcoming and invited us to open up the back of the SUV, he would make an announcement, and we served the people in the parking lot. The last coat we gave away was to a 4 year old girl who grinned from ear to ear with gratitude and love.

Our first “Service Saturday” deepened and ignited our conviction to make a difference with our homeless neighbors.

We scheduled a Service Saturday each month and invited more of our friends to participate. Soon we had families and children and teenagers. We worked with the shelter to collect and bring things the homeless would need. New socks, new underwear, fruit and chocolate - all the things that cannot be purchased with vouchers at the Salvation Army. Most of all we brought our love and presence.

When we were asked where we were from, we would reply, “We are simply people in the community who care.”

As our relationship grew, I became aware of a greater need. As I left the shelter one night, there were approximately 30 people who would soon be out on the street for the night. When we went to kitchen, there was nothing to give them to eat.

I left the shelter that night and drove directly to my favorite local grocery store, Trader Joe’s. I asked to speak to a manager. When the manager found me I asked him what he did with the food that ran out its shelf life. In the grocery industry it is referred to as spoils. The food that is outdated by FDA standards but still good to use.

He took me into his office and told me they had people ask for the food before. The problem was they didn’t keep their commitment and after a while quit showing up.

I asked him if we keep our commitment and worked with them to have our volunteers at their store when it worked for them, could we have the food? He gave us a chance. We were scheduled for pick-ups Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday and holidays.

We began with 12 volunteers and 6 shelters. We now have leads on each day, a volunteer coordinator who manages the constant rotation of volunteers and we haven’t missed a pick up in the last 5 years. There is approximately $15,000.00 of food that goes out to shelters every week in the Indianapolis community.

All the result of dedicated volunteers who through rain and shine, snow and sleet and the heat of the summer keep a commitment to pick up the food in a timely manner and get it to places of need in the community.

Feed Every One has birthed many other service projects. We deliver turkeys at Thanksgiving and Hams and stockings at Christmas. We have partnered with the local school to create projects for the students serving other schools with a high rate of homeless children. They knight scarves and collect belts for over sized hand me downs. After Katrina and many shelters lost their resources, we made baskets of goods for homes and delivered them in our own back yard.

We base the service on a simple concept of finding out what is needed and determining how you can find the resources in your community.

I have moved from Indianapolis and you know what? Feed Every One goes on because of dedicated volunteers, a unique grocery store and shelters that count on the food to nourish the people they serve.

To learn more about Melanie Mills please visit her website at www.MelanieMills.com