by Amy Newmark
That simple advice, which I initially fought so hard against, had changed me.
— Courtney Wright —
The Ice Cream Truck
Winners never quit, and quitters never win.
~Vince Lombardi
“Never give up! Never give up!” chanted my two young children, Max and Charley, as they marched barefoot behind their grandmother Mimi. My mother was clad in her favorite faded-denim, button-down shirt thrown casually over her swimsuit. Wild tufts of her short, auburn hair peeked out from a wide-brimmed, yellow straw hat.
Mimi was leading Max and Charley on yet another adventure, straight off the beach where they had spent the day building sand castles and splashing in the waves. This time, they were seeking the elusive ice-cream truck. As always, shoes were optional.
Over the years, Mimi had become our family’s beacon of positivity. It was not a title she earned without concerted effort, however. Having been widowed at only forty years old and left to raise me and my ten-year-old brother alone, she faced heart-wrenching tragedy powerful enough to cloud just about anyone’s upbeat outlook. She had been the one who had to make the decision to remove our dad from life support fourteen days after he was in a car accident.
My mom could have lived under a black cloud. Instead, she challenged herself to find joy every day. She was always up for a new challenge, whether that was hiking across the steep, rocky terrain of a mountaintop in Austria to get a better view of the breathtaking landscape while my brother and I looked on terrified, parasailing over the Gulf of Mexico, or signing up for tap-dancing classes at fifty. Leading by example, Mom taught us just how much one could accomplish with a positive attitude.
She has taken the same approach in her relationship with her grandchildren. Prior to starting her adventure with Max and Charley on that hot July afternoon, Mimi heard the familiar clang of the ice-cream man’s bell from her beach chair. She turned and saw him briefly, spotting his fluorescent green shirt and catching the gleam of his waving bell before he turned and disappeared over the dunes. Happily, the ice-cream man’s visit is a daily occurrence at the beach, although the lag time between the sound of his bell and the departure of his truck is not long. One must be quick to catch him.
Max and Charley were disappointed when they didn’t catch him in time that day. That was until Mimi’s eyes sparkled and she said, “Never give up!” She explained that the truck might be gone, but they could hustle off to find it at its next stop.
They walked block after block. Not knowing which direction the truck had taken, they had to make their best guess about where to search. My kids’ tiny legs were tired, but they forged on, continuing to chant their mantra, “Never give up!”
After about twenty minutes of walking, Max’s faith in the mission began to waver. He wondered out loud, “Maybe we should give up. We have been walking pretty far and haven’t seen the truck yet.” Charley squealed a quick, “No way! Never give up!” and resumed her chant with Mimi. Somewhat skeptically, Max acquiesced.
Just two blocks later, they found it. Mimi threw a triumphant fist in the air, and Max and Charley screamed with excitement, “Never give up!” In that moment, my mom had done for my children what she had done for me countless times. Simple though it was, that phrase has become our battle cry for the challenges we face. Whether studying for a difficult test, pushing through a challenging cross-country practice, or practicing lines to audition for a school play, I know I can always look at Max and Charley and say, “Never give up!” Upon hearing those words, they are instantly transported to a positive state of mind — where the next ice-cream truck is just around the corner.
— Samantha LaBarbera —
Why Not?
If you’re alive, kick into drive. Chase whimsies. See if you can turn dreams into a way to make a living, if not an entire way of life.
~Kevin Smith
My husband had given me an early Christmas present — a comedy show with my favorite screenwriter and director, Kevin Smith. The year had been filled with more lows than any other year in my life, and I was ready for a break.
We waited in the tightly packed bar area until the doors opened and we filed into the theater in line. We started chatting with three other people behind us and admiring the Kevin Smith apparel they had worn to the show.
“Are you five together?” the lady at the door inquired. We looked at each other hesitantly.
“We can be…” I replied cautiously.
“Well, I have a table for five up front. Otherwise, I can seat you separately upstairs in the balcony,” she responded.
“We are definitely together,” I replied, trying to act nonchalant. Up front? No way! We followed the lady to our seats, and I tried to contain myself as the lights went down and people started clapping and cheering. Music was playing, and the announcer gave a brief introduction before Kevin Smith walked out and appeared on stage. I was in awe; I had never had such amazing seats at a comedy show before.
Halfway through the show, Kevin told us that he was essentially a person with a dream who never gave up on it. Then these life-changing words came out of his mouth: “You’ve got to get rid of the ‘why people’ in your life and spend more time with the ‘why not people’ you meet.”
That simple, yet profound, advice completely changed my outlook. I had always been a bit of a risk taker in terms of going skydiving, dirt-bike riding, or backpacking in the mountains, but this made me reflect on how cautious I had been about pursuing my personal goals.
“Get rid of the ‘why people’ in your life and spend more time with the ‘why not people.’ ”
A couple of weeks after the show, I applied for a new job within my company, and I got it. I was finally working in a much happier environment and I was thriving. Even my husband told me how good it was to see me smile again when I came home from work.
I also started writing again, for the first time in eight years. Writing had always been a passion of mine, but once I graduated college, I would come up with excuses that were essentially reasons “why” I couldn’t write.
I had lost both grandparents and our dogs, and writing became a cathartic and therapeutic process for me. My new “why not mentality” helped me through my grief, and I decided to submit my work to publishers, not really believing anything would come of it. But my new attitude brought me the fulfillment of a dream that I had had since childhood; my first written works were published the following year — by Chicken Soup for the Soul! In addition, my husband and I decided to finally search for a rescue dog after losing both of ours. Our new hound nourishes and rebuilds a piece of my soul each day.
These may be small things, but together they create something bigger than I could ever have imagined. I had gone to the comedy show expecting to cut loose and laugh at some raunchy jokes, but what I got out of the experience was life changing. It was the greatest gift I could have received at that time in my life, and I am forever grateful. Two simple words change my life every day: “Why not?”
— Gwen Cooper —
Everything We Need
While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt
I knew I had it easier than most single mothers. We had a roof over our heads, I managed to pay the electric bill each month, and there was always food on the table.
After my divorce, I had returned to graduate school and finished my master’s degree. I had a job I loved as a case manager for medically frail and low-income elder adults. My duties involved arranging home services to enable the elderly to stay in their homes as long as possible, a service I believed was vitally important. Yet, as with most social-service jobs, it barely paid a living wage. One day as I was filling out forms for one of my clients to receive food stamps, I realized that if I didn’t receive child support, my salary would have qualified us for the same entitlements! I was fortunate I didn’t need the supplemental government assistance, but I was aware
that many single-parent families relied on the help, and I was grateful it was available for them.
I was fortunate to have the basics covered for my daughters and me, but it was the unexpected costs that kept me up at night. If something broke in our home, it was probably going to stay broken. What if we needed a new roof? What if the air conditioner went out in the 100-degree Oklahoma summer? What if the car needed repairs? My children’s father provided health insurance for them, but I couldn’t afford insurance for myself. I was very healthy, but I knew one medical catastrophe would financially destroy me.
Then there were all the things I wished I could do for my children. Their friends were usually off on exotic vacations in the summer while I scrambled to make a picnic and trip to the zoo feel like a real vacation. I wished my children could have new furniture and cute clothes and all the latest gadgets.
I thought I was doing a good job keeping my worries from my children, but I wasn’t. Children are very sensitive to their parents’ moods, and they are often listening when we’re not aware. A neighbor had been pressuring me to share the cost of a new fence, and I was talking about it with my sister on the phone, wondering how I would magically make money appear to cover the cost. After I got off the phone, my six-year-old daughter approached me and said, “Mom, please don’t worry. We may not have everything we want, but we have everything we need.”
“We may not have everything we want, but we have everything we need.”
That statement, made by an innocent but very wise child, forever changed my perspective. Whenever I found myself giving into my anxieties concerning finances, I would remember her words. I would focus on being grateful for shelter over our heads and food on our table. I’m so thankful to my little girl who was smart enough to remind me that we often confuse wants with needs. Listen closely to children; it is from their hearts we may learn great wisdom. We had shelter, food, clothing, and love for one another — we did, indeed, have everything we needed!
— Diane Morrow-Kondos —
Serendipity
Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future.
~Gail Lumet Buckley
It was New Year’s Eve. Eleven adults swapped stories while seven kids, ranging from six to nineteen, laughed in the living room. Right after dinner, I gathered everyone together and proposed a ritual that would connect the old year with the new.
“Think of a valuable lesson you learned in the past year and write it down as a piece of advice for someone else,” I said. “Then drop it into this bag for a random drawing.”
Everyone dove into the exercise, even my little granddaughter who needed help with writing.
I asked Lulu, “What was the best thing you learned this year?”
She said, “French.” (She’s in a French immersion program at school.)
“Why?”
“Because it’s different.”
I asked for clarification. “So would your advice be to learn French because it helps you to think differently?”
“Exactly,” said the six-year-old.
Her advice went into the bag with seventeen other slips of paper. We all sat in a circle, excited to see what would happen next.
“Now, it’s time to think of a goal for the coming year. Say it out loud, and then pick a slip at random and read the advice aloud,” I said, “Let’s see if chance advice coincides with your goal.”
The room was filled with positive energy as each person stated his or her goal and then chose a random piece of paper. It was eerie how well the advice seemed to fit each person’s goal for the coming year.
Teenager Zach wished for his driver’s license, and he pulled a slip that read: “Know all the facts. Don’t be impulsive. A lack of knowledge can lead to a fatal mistake.”
Rich hoped to pass a very tough accreditation. His slip read: “Don’t waste time watching so much TV. It’s time you never get back.” It took a while for the laughter to die down since he’s such a movie fanatic.
Sheila, new to college, yearned for a best friend and wondered how to go about it. She pulled the slip I had written: “One size does not fit all. Discover and encourage individuality. Be compassionate with people very different from yourself.”
Danielle planned a trip to Europe in the new year, and out came little Lulu’s advice, “Learn French. It helps you to think differently.”
For me, I wanted to teach a meditation/journaling program for prison inmates. I had volunteered to do it in the past and enjoyed it, but I struggle with too many demands on my schedule. How would it be possible? I pulled a slip that read: “Let God fight your battles.” I interpreted this to mean that the path would open when a Higher Power deemed the time to be right. My heart simply had to be in the right place, and meanwhile, I could work toward readiness. In time, I came to realize the prisoner who needed stress relief was me.
Often, we ignore guidance from other people. Yet that night, whether it was serendipity or magic or family bonds, the advice we received seemed so tailor-made for us that we all listened. And we were better off because of it.
— Suzette Martinez Standring —
Happy Cells Are Healthy Cells
Very often a change of self is needed more than a change of scene.
~Arthur Christopher Benson
The server, with her forearms covered in bracelets, and I, in my mid-twenties, were close in age. So why did she seem so much older and wiser?
I don’t remember how we came to be talking in the hallway outside the pub’s restroom. Had we both been using the facilities, and I mentioned something as we washed our hands? Had I been grumbling about having a bad day? Probably. I was always grouchy back then.
It’s been more than twenty years since the encounter, and while I may not remember exactly how we ended up in that hallway together, I’ll never forget what happened there. She was the first to show me how powerful my thoughts were.
“You must always guard your thoughts,” she advised. “They do more than form in your mind. They influence your body.”
“What?”
There I was in my business best, meeting up with co-worker friends for happy-hour drinks. She was in her “work clothes,” too — a flowing skirt and basic T-shirt, with her hair wild and free to match her spirit. We were the yuppie and the hippie. One was about to teach the other a valuable lesson.
“All that negativity. It doesn’t do you any good. In fact, it does exactly the opposite.”
I’ve often wondered what she saw in my eyes in that moment. She could’ve stopped and gone back to her job. Instead, she took the time to show me what she was talking about.
“Here… stick out your arm.” She demonstrated how she wanted me to hold it stretched out perpendicular to my body. “I’m going to press on it while you think about something that makes you happy. What fills your heart with smiles? Think about that.”
That was a good question. What filled my heart with smiles? His furry face filled my mind — with a tennis ball in his mouth. Budly, my Cocker Spaniel.
“I’m going to try and push down on your arm,” the waitress said. “Don’t let me.”
I kept my arm stiff, and she wasn’t able to press it down. I was able to resist.
“Okay, now think of the exact opposite. Think of something that fills your soul with anger or sadness, maybe even both. Something negative.”
That one came easier: my mother. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her. She was always criticizing me about one thing or another.
“Okay, we’re going to do the same thing. Try to resist when I press down again.”
I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, thinking of my mom and the way she made me feel literally stole my strength.
The wise waitress told me to think my happy thoughts again. My strength returned. She was pressing equally hard each time, but she was proving my thoughts dictated my strength. I had the power to resist with one, and absolutely no strength with
the other.
Fast-forward twelve years. I was battling cancer that I was convinced was brought on by all the stress I’d been under taking care of my mother during her own struggle with cancer. I was diagnosed only five months after her death.
I’d taken on caregiving responsibilities in a last-ditch effort to prove I was worthy of her love. Why I expected her to be different when she was dying, I don’t know. But nothing I did was good enough.
Worse, I found out what I’d always suspected: She loved my sister more. I had the last will and testament to prove it. She never said “I love you” to anyone. She wasn’t like that. She was very big on material rewards, though. My sister was worth 70 percent of her estate. I was only worth 30 percent.
My sister had known all along how the will had been written, but it had come as a surprise to me. It turned out my mom had expected my sister to care for her. My sister had shrugged off that duty on me, and in my desperation to make one last grand gesture, I’d accepted it willingly — which meant exposing myself to my mom’s toxic energy 24/7.
After a chemo treatment that hit me particularly hard, I thought about that waitress from so many years ago. I was on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, wondering which would hit first: the next round of nausea or a pain flare.
I tried not to think about my mom or sister, but it didn’t work. I was still hurt and angry about how everything had turned out.
But I also knew those feelings were what had gotten me into the mess I was in. If I didn’t change my thinking, I was going to die. I was doing what that waitress had shown me all those years ago: letting negative thoughts zap my strength. But these were potent enough to threaten my life. If I wanted not only to heal but to live and thrive, I had to change my thinking. And that’s when it hit me: Happy cells are healthy cells. That was a mantra to live by. Sad and mad thoughts made me sick. Happy ones could make me better.