6

If It all Ended Tomorrow

As a kid, I had to make the most of my situation. Since I was about six, Mother had decided, for whatever reason, that I was no longer allowed the privilege of being a member of “the family,” and was therefore banished to live in the garage. At first, surrounded by darkness, I was terrified of every little sound above and around me. I had thought for sure that some huge, hairy, five-eyed, demonic swamp monster or gigantic orange-red snake would emerge from underneath the car, an overhead water pipe, or from some water drain and either eat me alive or squeeze me to death. At first, if my imagination didn’t get the best of me, the chilling dampness and the hard reality of exclusion depressed me all the more. The winters were the hardest, especially during the holiday season. As “the family” trimmed the tree, listened to Christmas records, or watched television specials, I stood at the base of the garage stairs, leaning my shoulders and the back of my neck against a beam of wood, with my eyes clamped shut, fantasizing I was somewhere else.

My days started and ended in the garage. Sleeping on an army cot that I used as my bed, I’d awake with a shred of hope of being fed breakfast. I’d push myself with lightning speed trying to complete my morning chores before sprinting off to school. Then, the moment school was dismissed, as conditioned I’d run home to perform Mother’s endless list of afternoon chores, then either stand at the base of the garage stairs or sit on top of my hands on a bed of rocks in the backyard. Even if it rained or a gray blanket of fog rolled in from the nearby ocean, I was not allowed back inside until Mother summoned me to clear the table, wash the dinner dishes, clean the cat’s litter box with my fingers, and anything else she could conjure. Afterward in the garage and feeling exhausted, I’d do my best to remain perfectly straight, trying not to fall whenever my head fell forward. I’d stay in that position until Mother granted me permission to assemble my army cot bed in the dark. Before drifting off I’d say my prayers, thankful I could escape through my dreams.

I had no television, no neighborhood baseball games, no playing at a friend’s house, or even a warm meal. No hugs or sitting on someone’s lap, no sharing a laugh, or “that one magical childhood moment” that I would forever cherish. No wonderment or sense of discovery, no self-worth. My home was the darkness of the garage and the disposition I brought with it.

But in some sense living in the garage at least provided a barrier of protection. As I became self-aware, especially after being burned on the gas stove and taking my vow of survival, the garage became a world of its own for me. The garage was far better than shivering outside in the backyard where my hands and shoulders would become numb from sitting on the rocks. And after learning to distinguish the different sounds from above and knowing Mother’s television habits, I was able to take down my guard just a notch. Only when I felt it was absolutely safe would I sit down, lower my head, and steal a few minutes of sleep. On some afternoons I was lucky enough to sneak two quick naps before I was required to do the evening chores.

During the summer months I didn’t have to worry about the cold, and sometimes I’d smile inside whenever I’d hear the neighborhood kids scream with joy as they rode their bikes down the block. It took me forever to understand that the “clicking” sounds were baseball cards hitting the spokes of their wheels.

I quickly learned that feeling sorry for myself only got me so far, so I vowed to make the most of my time. If I wasn’t imagining myself flying away as one of my super-heroes, I’d read encyclopedia-sized books that I brought home from school. For years Mother had berated me on how stupid I was, so I tricked her into thinking that I was indeed incompetent and needed to complete extra homework in order to keep up. I knew full well how closely Mother wished to guard our relationship, so our “attention time” became a little shorter than before, as she believed the teachers would question why my homework was not completed. So, between my chores and Mother beating me, I’d strain my eyes in the darkness and race through every page of my books, absorbing every picture in detail and every word of every sentence. Besides school, my favorite part of the day was expanding my imagination by reading books about reptiles or volcanology, or adventure stories like Robinson Crusoe or The Count of Monte Cristo. Sometimes I would rush through my chores or stand impatiently waiting for Mother to finish doing whatever she did to me, so I could finish another page in one of my books.

On rare occasions, late into the night Mother would turn off the television and play a Bill Cosby record. For me there was no greater treat. Knowing she would soon be going to bed, I felt safe enough to shut my eyes, and while standing I’d imagine Mr. Cosby’s words spilling like water. Since Mother played the same record over and over again, I’d study the rhythm of the stories, the timing of the punch lines, how Mr. Cosby spoke with perfect clarity, and his ability to make his characters seem so real. Over time, in my mind I’d lip-sync certain parts of the stories and even though I’d become terrified and stuttered whenever at school or in front of Mother, after hearing Cosby’s voice I knew I wanted to become a storyteller. Listening to Bill Cosby was like celebrating Christmas and a birthday rolled into one. Sometimes I’d still shiver in the garage, but whenever I heard, “Hey, Hey, Hey ... Fat Albert ...” I’d laugh and all my troubles would melt away.

Being alone gave me the opportunity to educate myself and to plot every move of any situation Mother might dream up. Whenever I felt depressed or self-pity, I’d remember one of Bill Cosby’s stories or a passage from one of my adventure books. The darkness became my home. I only had to make it through—one morning, one afternoon, and one evening at a time.

One winter afternoon I came close to losing it. I hated my life—how unfair everything was and how other people, like my brothers and every kid at school, had more and were treated better than me. That January of 1973 after Father moved out of the house, I felt betrayed. Even though he did little to stop Mother, I always felt safer with his presence upstairs. Somehow I knew with Father gone Mother was going to kill me. The beatings became more intense and far more bizarre. Food became nonexistent.

That Saturday, after not eating for several days, I took the chance of being caught and risked stealing food from the refrigerator just a few feet from me in the garage. I was that desperate: to attempt moving a single inch in the middle of the afternoon—the prime time when Mother might either suddenly open the door to check on me or summon me upstairs to do with me as she pleased. Knowing every inch of the garage and praying my worn-out sneakers didn’t make any noise or the hinges to the refrigerator door didn’t squeak, I stood on my toes while sliding a frozen pie tin into my hand. I could feel the drool in my mouth while I gazed down at one of Mother’s prized homemade pumpkin pies. I knew I could never eat the entire dessert or even take a piece of it. Mother counted every piece of every item of food she kept in the house. Even if eating the pie was my only refuge between life and death, I feared Mother’s retributions more. My terror and the rush of cold air escaping from the freezer, coupled with the risk of being caught, made my hands shake so much that I nearly dropped the pie. Caught between survival and fear, I took my chance. With my free hand I pinched a loosened piece of frozen crust, then another and another, until I had a small pile in my hand. Being careful to replace the pie precisely as I had found it, I felt Mother would never know. I had lost track of time, and fearing Mother might get up at any second if a television commercial came on, I scurried back over to my position. Alone in the dark, I blinked my eyes at the prize I cupped in my hand. As my body temperature warmed the frozen crust, I rolled the pieces into a ball. Before popping it into my mouth, I realized how incredibly fortunate I was. Not only did Mother not catch me, but I now held in my hand more food than I had been given in the last few days. I was alive, and I had a keen mind to think with. At least I had a roof over my head, I kept telling myself, and if Mother didn’t freak out and kill me, I stood a chance of staying alive. I knew in my heart if I could survive all that I had up till then, anything else had to be a little easier, a little better.

At the bottom of the stairs, the pie crust seemed as if it was melting in my mouth ... as if I were eating a grand meal. Even after swallowing I could still taste my bountiful feast. I shivered, but not from the cold, my self-imposed fear, or anxiety. I trembled with the pleasure of fulfillment. I had risked everything to accomplish my task. Alone in the dark I smiled at my good fortune. For a rare moment in my life, I was happy with myself.

I never forget how lucky I am, no matter what I’m doing in life. When giving a presentation I am almost always asked, “Dave, if you had the chance, what would you change about your past?” And I always give the question serious thought: Would I run away, defend myself from Mother, or maybe have the opportunity to be born to a different set of parents? But for me the answer is always the same: Nothing! I wouldn’t change a single element of my former life. As previously stated, and as weird as it may sound, my past experiences—every one of them—as grim and at times terrifying as they were, made me appreciate everything, and I mean everything, in my life today. After the experiences I have had, what do I really have to complain about?

If there’s one thing that drives me crazy it is people who, after living through an unfortunate, extraordinary experience, by their own choice wallow in self-pity or are absolutely miserable for the rest of their lives. Why in the world would someone go through all that pain, suffering, and despair just to be so unhappy? In my case, the first twelve years of my life were not good ones, so I’m going to live the remainder of my sixty to seventy years as best I can.

Why is it a lot of folks are so unhappy? Why are there great numbers of people who, no matter what they have or whatever they strive to achieve, seem so unfulfilled? I’m guessing unresolved issues would play a major role, but part of the solution could be that maybe the older we get, the more complacent, hopeless, and despondent we become. I don’t think we mean to; however, some of us may forget that we try to resolve issues, deal with the everyday situations, work hard, sacrifice, and push ourselves for the simple purpose of obtaining some form of satisfaction. And over time we forget what we’re fighting for. For one reason or another we believe life burns us out and we forget to be happy.

The Race to Grow Up and Get Ahead

Being a film buff, there is one film that I highly recommend, and it’s about getting caught up in the daily grind of life: Hook, the Steven Spielberg film starring Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman. The film is an account of what happens to Peter Pan once he’s grown up. Mr. Williams plays the role of Peter Banning, who’s forgotten he used to be the carefree, adventurous Peter Pan. As an adult, Peter’s life consists of high-powered corporate business dealings. In Peter’s pursuit of wealth he not only neglects his wife and children, and drinks too much, while griping about every little thing, but he has become the New Age version of a cutthroat pirate. In the course of the film Peter’s children are kidnapped by his old nemesis, Captain Hook, and before Peter can rescue his children by doing battle with his adversary, he must re-learn what was so critically important to him as a child: the love and security of being part of a family. In other words, Peter Banning must rediscover his happy thoughts. After doing so and defeating Captain Hook in a duel, Peter triumphantly returns home with his children. In the glow of the family reunion Peter is asked, “Are you done with all of your adventures?” Peter, with a childlike grin and a sparkle in his eyes, replies, “To live; now, that would be an adventure!”

Again, it’s sad to say, but for so many folks it seems the older they become in the race of “get ahead and have it all,” even if they achieve their desires, in the end they lose themselves and that exhilarated innocence. They lose that prime motivating element that made it all possible in the first place. They lose their happy thoughts. When you were younger, what did you aspire to be? What did you wish to do? Are you truly doing what you want today? Overall, are you a fulfilled person?

Naturally, at any given time any of us would answer, “Well, I really don’t like what I’m doing now,” or “No, at the moment I’m not happy at all.” That’s the reality of life: we all can’t do what we want at every given moment of every day. Now, I’m not saying you should walk through life grinning from ear to ear like your facial muscles are frozen, but I am saying to at least be happy in your quests and the world you live in right now, today. Don’t wait to get that job, pass that exam, marry that person, buy that car, or survive some immense crisis for you to be appreciative. Because while you think you are truly happy, you are only basing your happiness on your surroundings or the situation and not yourself as a person. And don’t you deserve better than that?

At one time in all of our lives, being happy was the overriding thing on our minds. But, like Peter Banning, as we grew older we lost our happy thoughts. Here’s something: From ages two until about fifteen, what do kids think about? Answer: PLAYING! Being happy and exploring everything to its fullest capacity is basically all that’s on kids’ minds. The younger they are, the more they believe that anything is possible. And they’re happy with things that really don’t cost a lot or amount to a great deal—holding their hands, reading to them in bed, or giving them praise for something they accomplish. And if they’re having a bad day, their world is suddenly brighter when you mention “ice cream.” When it comes to gifts, babies and toddlers seem more euphoric over tearing open a box than in discovering what’s inside. They spend more time popping the bubble wrap that protected the gift that you broke your back and blitzed through countless malls and waited in line for hours to buy, than they do in playing with it. For some kids, no matter the age, you can’t get them to stay in bed even if you put lead weights on them, for the simple reason that they want to play and play right now.

Between the ages of fifteen and twenty as they become more mature, these young adults craving independence still wish to play, but do so primarily when adult supervision is nowhere to be found. The older teenagers get, the less they can wait to move out and be on their own, so no one can tell them what to do or how to do it. Then life will be grand and they can do whatever they want, at any given moment of any day. Their lives will be completely filled with carefree ecstasy.

Around the ages of twenty to twenty-five, the carefree priorities take a slight shift because of one word from Dr. Abraham Maslow, a gentleman considered the father of modern psychology, who created the pyramid theory of human needs: Survival. For the most part, if these twenty-somethings do not have gainful employment, they have difficulty purchasing food and having a place to rest their heads. Amusing themselves and doing all those “adults things” they’ve dreamt of for so many years is still on their minds, yet college, trade school, and/or landing a job ebbs away at their youthful ambitions.

By the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five, we’ve pretty much settled into our careers, and saving for our own home and other materialistic things takes precedence. Usually at this age, out of the blue we see that person from across the way, then Cupid shoots his arrow and we fall victim to this crazy emotion called love. We marry, become a little bit pregnant, and soon the number-one priority in our lives is to ensure we have an arsenal of Pampers within our reach.

From thirty-five to forty-five, after a few medical examinations, we discover we’re not immortal. We can’t believe that we not only subjected our bodies to the things we did in our youth—stunts that would surely have gotten us arrested in these days—but that we actually lived to tell about it. We have become our generation’s biggest foe: we are now part of the establishment. One day we woke up and became our father, mother, uncle, aunt, or anyone else we despised in our childhood. We join health clubs. We pay exorbitant sums in order to sweat out built-up toxins (in public) and watch, weigh, and worry about every gram of fat that enters our bodies just so we can pay more taxes by living longer. We frantically purchase every piece of workout contraption or video we see on television, and after a few weeks we find ourselves running out of spaces for the “easy-to-use, easy-to-store” revolutionary equipment, so we begin to think about the idea of purchasing a bigger home, just so we can have a bigger garage and more closet space—so we can cram it with more stuff from our lives.

With the greatest of anticipation we try every diet, buy gallons of Rogaine, and in our limited time off we go to the “fake and bake” for that Saint-Tropez tan. Looking young is now the foremost goal in our lives. Stability is important too. The average American has car insurance for her 2.5 cars—that she’ll be paying for right up until the warranty expires or the engine blows up in the middle of rush-hour traffic, while she’s driving a herd of children in her minivan (that years ago she swore she wouldn’t be caught dead in) to soccer practice. We have house insurance, health insurance (including dental), and another policy to take care of whatever the other insurance policies were supposed to. There’s insurance for the boat, Wave Rider, and any other toy that makes us happy. After a big scare we purchase tornado, hurricane, flood, earthquake, and “dust bowl” insurance as a package deal—just in case ol’ Mother Nature decides to promote chaos. We have insurance protection for not only every credit card we need, but practically every piece of appliance we’re still making payments on—the television, DVD player, and Nintendo; the washer, dryer, and refrigerator, to the puree blender that we use for our high-energy, high-carb, high-protein, low-fat, no-taste protein shakes ... so we can live longer, pay more taxes, and purchase more insurance polices.

We plan ahead, we think about retirement and escaping the rat race once and for all. We invest in the market. We have expanded portfolios that include a carefully analyzed quantity of mutual funds and numerous shares of Starbucks, Worldwide Wrestling Federation Entertainment, and Victoria’s Secret. We are waiting for the next Amazon.com or Yahoo.com IPOs, so we can get in, clean up, and dump the stock at a huge profit so Uncle Sam can take his share from our successes. We have heated debates about the virtues and drawbacks of 401Ks and IRAs. We count the days until our lovely children, who were once precious babies but in the last few years have acted as if they’ve been possessed by demons, move out on their own so we can finally buy that motor home, see the world, and wear pants with the elastic waists.

Around the ages forty-five to fifty-five, for some of us our better days are behind us. We’re amazed to find ourselves far more conservative about life in general than we were in our twenties. We find ourselves grumbling more. At the corner café we publicly denounce all politicians as crooks. While reminiscing about the good ol’ days of President John F. Kennedy who inspired our nation to journey to the moon and how Richard Nixon made us all eye the office of the president with more suspicion, some kid with a double shot of espresso and dash of raspberry syrup looks at you with a who-in-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? expression. At home our relaxation is according to what’s scheduled on the television. A bad day for us is not some crisis at work or at the home front, but rather when the television cable craps out or when we temporarily lose the remote control. We “armchair-quarterback” every play of every sport, we screech at our soap-opera stars for sleeping with their best friend’s bother’s uncle who just woke from a ten-year coma, and we are amazingly surprised at every episode of the Jerry Springer Show.

We complain more about how unfair life is to us. We make more excuses of what could have been: “If it wasn’t for my bad knee from high school, I could have gone on and played pro football.” “If I hadn’t married you, I could have gone to Hollywood and become a star.” We’re depressed about the fact that whenever we lose our hair we find it growing in our noses, ears, and other areas that we’re too ashamed to discuss in public. But, hey, we tell ourselves, retirement is just around the corner. Then I’ll have fun!

From ages fifty-five and beyond, we’re just too damn tired to do anything. Late-night television shows like Jay Leno or David Letterman seem so juvenile, and besides it’s way past our bedtimes. We complain so much about everything that no one will have anything to do with us, except for those “unknowing hostages” known as babies— who, with drool spilling from the side of their mouths, are in giggling awe of the old person sitting in front of them with all that white hair sticking out of both ears.

Since they don’t make good shows like they used to, we abandon the television and spend our day spouting wisdom that no one in the world wants to hear: “Back in my day, we didn’t have those fancy ‘Rybook’ or ‘Neeke’ shoes. And, another thing: we didn’t have a school bus or some fancy beau pick us up in their parents’ fancy SUV. I tell ya, back in my day we walked three miles to school, up and over the hill, barefoot in the snow every day! And we never complained! Not once, not one iota, not one word! We had it hard and we loved it. Oy, you kids today have it too easy! All you want to do is play, play, play. I tell you what—you better learn to grown up and act your age. Life’s not all fun and games. Wait till you’re my age, then you’ll see. Then you’ll know something about something. And another thing—let me tell you about the value of a dollar. Back in my day, that’s when a dollar meant something....”

The older generation worries that the younger generation either doesn’t work hard enough or doesn’t appreciate all of the work and sacrifice of others. The older generation seems to believe that the world is going to hell in a handbasket and the young kids are the ones wearing the UPS uniforms delivering the goods.

Whatever happened to being happy?

A Cheerful Disposition

In a twisted comical sense, a lot of the above rings true. If we take ourselves too seriously in the pursuit of our endeavors all of our good nature could be used up by the time we achieve what we’ve wanted. For instance, did you know the average child laughs more than four hundred times a day? For the average adult that number dwindles down to less than forty. So many of us work hard, provide for our families, and sacrifice ourselves to the hilt, so much so that we can easily surrender our inner passions and happiness in the process. All we end up doing is feeding the machine. Get up, to go to work, to pay for the car that gets you to work and provides a means to sustain the home and feed the family, so you can bring home more work, then finally go to bed, only to repeat the process the next day. The hard truth is there are dues to be paid, and efforts and forfeits are facts of life. But as you deal with life’s complications and strive to achieve your desires, are you happy? Do you feel proud of yourself or get a tiny rush of excitement that you applied yourself in the right direction? You should.

In the midst of applying yourself, dealing with whatever issue life throws your way, are you able to relax? Do you clear your head and take a breather? Or do you find yourself constantly getting wrapped around the axle over the most insignificant petty things that take up a majority of your time, energy, and focus? Are you losing sleep, feeling drained and unsatisfied? Do you find yourself always defending your actions, or does your emotional state seem to be just below the boiling point? The answer could entail an endless number of elements. Again, I’m no psychologist, but I’m guessing that if you answered yes to two or more of these questions you, my dear friend, are not relaxing enough! You need a more cheerful disposition. As we discussed in the first section of this book, you need to empty that CD-ROM in your head. You may need to decompress from home before you arrive at work or school, so you have a clear head and are therefore able to tackle your objectives. Continually take little mental breaks whenever and however you can. Whatever you do, do something positive.

By force of habit, whenever I say or think something negative, before it becomes ingrained in my mind, I instantly try to replace it with something positive. While in the vortex of hysteria and confusion I silently tell myself, Well, it could be worse. Another line I recommend is from the movie Point of No Return: “I never did mind the little things.” The same attitude is the concept of best-selling author Richard Carlson in his book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff ... and It’s All Small Stuff.

Vent when you need to, but don’t allow life’s twists and turns and bumps on the road to drain your happiness. The more you take control of your attitude, the more cheerful you will be and the more you’ll be able take on and complete any task.

A lot of folks take happiness for granted, as if we as individuals had no say-so over this emotion. But we do. Think about it: all of our lives we’ve been taught to watch what we say, keep that attitude in check, or don’t fly off the handle. By coincidence and through years of conditioning a lot of us neglect to work on a positive attitude. So what do you do? I advise that in all of your efforts as you apply yourself in areas of health, in saving for the future, studying for that test, or in working hard for that new car, each and every day do the same on your positive, upbeat attitude. As always, continue to better yourself but do so now by being aware of your emotional state. Replace negative attitudes with positive ones. As you are well aware: as bad as things are, they could be a lot worse. And griping and complaining will not get you out of it, but a simple optimistic attitude can turn things around. Again, in the final analysis it is up to you.

Years ago, before the comedian actress Gilda Radner passed away from her battle with cancer, she formed groups with others who, like her, were fighting the disease, and together they found a sense of happiness and reprieve from their situations. It didn’t change the fact that these brave people had to deal with their life-threatening disease every day, but spreading a bit of cheer among themselves made their circumstances the more tolerable. In one interview I heard Ms. Radner say, “I look at it this way: as I’m fighting cancer, I think of all the money I’m saving on shampoo.” To this day Gilda’s disposition has touched countless others who are surviving cancer with dignity and feeling more fulfilled.

The Power of a Positive State of Mind

Happiness is a state of mind—your mind—so you take the control. With everything else you’re committing to, in order to better yourself don’t take this one vital item for granted. Whenever you step out of a certain comfort zone to enhance the person you wish to be, make sure you have a sense of contentment with each and every step you take. If you’re doing all that you can without a sense of joy or even satisfaction, there’s a strong chance you may not get to where you want to go. Don’t throw this important element into the wind; if you do (and if you have the kind of luck I have) it will end up in the hands of Murphy’s Law.

Don’t leave your happiness to fate. Even with the best of luck, destiny can only take you so far. Years ago, when I flew in the air force, I had an offbeat friend named George who convinced himself his sole path to happiness was to marry. George never went out. He never mingled. He never dated. Yet every Friday night, he would put on his best imitation polo shirt that he had purchased overseas for five dollars, run a comb through his oily hair, and wait. And wait. And wait. After a year of frustration George expressed his concerns, and although I and others offered suggestions he remained ensconced in his faith for happiness. George believed without a doubt that someday, some woman would show up, knock on his door, and make him a happy man. As romantic as this story may sound, George never put forth the effort, any effort, needed to obtain the happiness he believed he so desperately craved.

Why would you waste a day of your life waiting for happiness to find you? Do something to manage your own destiny. Don’t postpone your elation until after your final exams, completion of that one project, or wait until you take that vacation. And don’t even think about saying, “I’ll be happy once I get that car, that promotion, lose that weight, or find that one person I’ll spend the rest of my life with.” If I may say: Make your own happiness. Be happy with who you are and what you have in your life right now!

It wasn’t too long ago that I lived in an ice-cold, rundown cabinlike summer home in the middle of winter with no insulation and no heater, sleeping on a leaky air mattress, while literally scraping pennies together. I discovered within hours following my return from Japan after receiving the award and being celebrated as one of the Ten Outstanding Young Persons of the World, that my fortunes had suddenly turned upside down. I had been “mismanaged” by the speaking firm that represented me. After collecting myself, with a strong belief in my own cause, scared to death, and not knowing what lay ahead of me, I decided to start my own business. I paid the price for my ambition, put in twenty-hour days while maintaining a high standard, and even worked a few odds jobs in order to get by. Like anybody else in my position, I took a few hard knocks and there were days that the only meal I could afford was a single serving of Cup-a-Soup. And yet, as hard as it was, as many sacrifices as I made, and at times with so much against me, I loved every minute of it! For me, living in that freezing cabin, in the middle of winter, with wrapping my hands around my soup meal as the only way of warming myself, was one of the greatest, most fulfilling times of my life.

Beyond my health, youth, and a few close friends, I was on the threshold of a new life and I made the most of what I had. I appreciated everything—a place to call my own, the sound of the rain hitting the roof, the smell of the redwood trees after a storm, the hours I spent alone reading a book or listening to music.

Some days I’d splurge by having a piece of three-day-old French bread. With every bite I’d smile, thinking that I had nothing to complain about, for the bread was more than I’d had before. No matter how hectic my day or desperate my situation was, I’d try to find something positive in it. I’d decompress by stepping outside on the wooden deck, sometimes in the chilling rain, looking straight up at the majesty of the trees against the darkened sky. I was optimistic. I was living the American dream, and with every day I was closer to living in a real home, chockful of food and with a fireplace to keep me warm. With hope and opportunity, what more could I really ask for?

Maybe it’s me, but because of all I endured as a child there is literally not a single day that I wake up and don’t appreciate the fact that I am alive, not a day that I’m not optimistic of what is before me. Because of my past I was extremely fortunate to learn as a child how much bitterness my mother held in her heart and how unhappy she was. I vowed not to repeat the mistakes she made—if Mother was so unhappy about her past, I decided to deal with my issues as best as I could, before they would overwhelm me as they had her. Since Mother hated everyone and everything, I’ve learned, through her destructive lifestyle, to hate no one, especially my own perpetrator. And because I had virtually no life as a kid, I’ve done my best to ensure that my son can live a life full of wonderment and opportunity, but above all that he will never have to be subjected to what I had to endure as a child. And finally, on a deep personal level, maybe I had to suffer what I did, almost dying several times in the process, in order to cherish the value and sanctity of the life I have today.

Everywhere you go, you take yourself. Never forget: your attitude is everything. And with all that there is to life, don’t leave your happiness to destiny; for your lack of effort and ignorance will only result in a hollow, joyless life.

The primary reason why I’m hammering away at you to be content with who you are and what you have in your life right now is there are no guarantees when you go to sleep at night that you are going to wake up tomorrow morning. None! This is why I stressed getting closure on our issues. Don’t allow every little thing to get to you, drag you down, and consume your life. There may not be a tomorrow to count on, so live the best life that you can today. As stated in the final scene of the movie Hook: “Seize the day!”

No Guarantees for Tomorrow

Years ago I read a poem that to this day has had a profound affect on my life. “If I had my life to live over ... I’d relax, I would limber up.... I would take fewer things seriously.... I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.... I would eat more ice cream.... I would pick more daisies.” This poem was written by Nadine Stair, an eighty-five-year-old woman whose words encouraged many to see and live life through new eyes.

If you had only ten days to live, what would you do? Seriously, if your doctor informed you that you had just a few days to live, what would you do with the time you had left? Now, you might say, “Hell, I’d just see another doctor and get a second opinion.” Go ahead; make an appointment, take all the time you need. But your time is slipping away with every wasted hour.

I’d tell you what I’d do: I’d pick up the phone and call anyone that came to mind. I’d make the most of my time and have a blast. I’d surround myself with the sounds of my favorite music and fill every room with the scent and vibrant colors of fresh-cut flowers. I would definitely go on a spending binge. I would surprise family and friends with gifts, in the hopes of showing my appreciation and to make their lives just a little brighter. And even though I’m an introvert, I’d host a few parties so I could hold, hug, and just be with those who were important to me during the course of my life. I’d fight for every minute of my life and try to not to squander my time. I wouldn’t sleep, but I’d take naps outside. I would watch every sunrise and every sunset. I would make peace with my God and be appreciative of the time I had on this planet and how fortunate I was.

What does your world of happiness mean to you? What does it truly, absolutely take to make you feel fulfilled? How much does it cost to watch a sunset, to feel the rays of the sun on your face, or to hear the surf crash against a sandy beach? What price can you put on holding the hand of another or the warm embrace of that one person who means the world to you? How much effort does it take to change your pessimistic attitude and do something to brighten someone else’s life?

In all my travels I’ve learned the things that make all of us happy are right in front of us, each and every day. Our happiness is readily available to everyone of us regardless of our age, sex, nationality, education, religion, our past, our desires, or how much we have or don’t have!

Some time ago I ran into a dear friend who had just returned from vacation. Ray had a perfect tan, a bright smile, and a lively spring in his step. I couldn’t stop him from telling me about his recent cruise. “I tell ya, my wife and I, all we did was eat and drink. We spent all day at the pool and danced all night. We watched every sunset. We made love every night. We talked for hours on end, we laughed out loud in front of everybody, and played like kids. I tell ya, that was the best money I ever spent!”

When Ray told me the amount, I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Well,” I replied, “you and your wife could have done all that at my house for half the price!”

Of course, I was kidding. Ray is one of the hardest workers I know. He is one of the few people who do for others before thinking of themselves, and that one cruise was a lifetime goal for him and his lovely wife. I just find it odd that some people have to “get away” in order to be happy, or lose—or almost lose—that someone or something that’s so special to them in order to truly appreciate what they have in their everyday life; like the saying You don’t know what you have till it’s gone.

Every Thanksgiving and every holiday season all of us take a moment, bow our heads, and reflect on our blessings. I’m sure nearly all of us, no matter what situation we’re currently working on or what we’ve already been put through, realize how lucky we are. With all the troubles in the world, what if we could carry some of that appreciation and sense of joy with us every day?

Take a step back and look at all that you’ve accomplished and the opportunities before you. Now ask yourself: What does it take for me to truly be happy? The answer has been right in front of you all this time.

HELP YOURSELF REMINDERS

* WE WORK AND SACRIFICE FOR THE CAUSE OF FULFILLMENT.

* A CONSISTENT, POSITIVE ATTITUDE MAKES A WORLD OF DIFFERENCE.

* DON’T LEAVE YOUR HAPPINESS TO FATE.

* THERE ARE NO GUARANTEES FOR TOMORROW, SO APPRECIATE ALL THAT YOU HAVE AND DO ALL THAT YOU CAN TODAY!