A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

by Jack Canfield

  George had always envisioned himself as a championship wrestler his senior year, after just missing the championship the season before. Barely able to

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  speak, George whispered, "Doctor . . ."

  "Yes," said the doctor leaning over the bed, "what is it, my boy?"

  "Go to hell," said George in a voice filled with determination.

  The next day the nurse walked into his room to find him lying flat on his face on the floor.

  "What's going on?" asked the shocked nurse.

  "I'm walking," George calmly replied.

  He refused the use of any braces or even a crutch. Sometimes it would take him 20 minutes to get out of the chair, but he refused any offers of aid.

  I remember seeing him lift a tennis ball with as much effort as a healthy man would lift a 100-pound barbell.

  I also remember seeing him step out on the mat as captain of the wrestling team.

  But the story doesn't stop there. The following year, after being named to start for Missouri Valley College in one of the first football games to be televised locally, he came down with mononucleosis.

  It was my brother Bob who helped reinforce George's already strong philosophy of never giving up.

  The family was sitting in his room at the hospital when Valley's quarterback completed a 12-yard pass to the tight end and the announcer said, "And George Schlatter makes the first catch of the game."

  Shocked, we all looked at the bed to make sure George was still there. Then we realized what had happened. Bob, who had also made the starting lineup, had worn George's number so George could spend the afternoon hearing himself catching six passes and making countless tackles.

  As he overcame mono, he did it with the lesson Bob taught him that daythere is always a way!

  George was destined to spend the next three falls in the hospital. In 1948, it was after he stepped on a

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  rusty nail. In 1949, it was tonsillitis, just before he was to sing in an audition for Phil Harris. And in 1950, it was third-degree burns over 40 percent of his body and collapsed lungs. His life had been saved by my brother Alan who, after an explosion had set George's body on fire, put the flames out by throwing himself on George. He received serious burns himself.

  But after each challenge, George came back stronger and more sure of his own ability to overcome any obstacle. He had read that if one looks at the roadblocks, he isn't looking at the goal.

  Armed with these gifts of the spirit and the laughter of the soul, he entered the world of show business and revolutionized television by creating and producing such innovative shows as "Laugh In" and "American Comedy Awards," and has won an Emmy for his special on Sammy Davis Jr.

  He had literally been through the furnace and had come out of it with a soul as strong as steel, and used it to strengthen and entertain a nation.

  John Wayne Schlatter

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  The Race

  I

  "Quit! Give up! You're beaten!"

  They shout at me and plead.

  "There's just too much against you now;

  This time you can't succeed!"

  And as I start to hang my head

  In front of failure's face,

  My downward fall is broken by

  The memory of a race.

  And hope refills my weakened will

  As I recall that scene;

  For just the thought of that short race

  Rejuvenates my being.

  II

  A children's raceyoung boys, young men

  How I remember well.

  Excitement, sure! But also fear;

  It wasn't hard to tell.

  They all lined up so full of hope

  Each thought to win that race.

  Or tie for first, or if not that,

  At least take second place.

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  And fathers watched from off the side

  Each cheering for his son.

  And each boy hoped to show his dad

  That he would be the one.

  The whistle blew and off they went!

  Young hearts and hopes afire.

  To win and be the hero there

  Was each young boy's desire.

  And one boy in particular

  Whose dad was in the crowd

  Was running near the lead and thought:

  "My dad will be so proud!"

  But as he speeded down the field

  Across a shallow dip,

  The little boy who thought to win

  Lost his step and slipped.

  Trying hard to catch himself

  His hands flew out to brace,

  And mid the laughter of the crowd

  He fell flat on his face,

  So down he fell and with him hope

  He couldn't win it now

  Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

  To disappear somehow.

  But as he fell his dad stood up

  And showed his anxious face,

  Which to the boy so clearly said:

  "Get up and win the race!"

  He quickly rose, no damage done

  Behind a bit, that's all

  And ran with all his mind and might

  To make up for his fall.

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  So anxious to restore himself

  To catch up and to win

  His mind went faster than his legs;

  He slipped and fell again!

  He wished then he had quit before

  With only one disgrace.

  "I'm hopeless as a runner now;

  I shouldn't try to race."

  But in the laughing crowd he searched

  And found his father's face;

  That steady look which said again:

  "Get up and win the race!"

  So he jumped up to try again

  Ten yards behind the last

  "If I'm to gain those yards," he thought,

  "I've got to move real fast."

  Exerting everything he had

  He gained eight or ten,

  But trying so hard to catch the lead

  He slipped and fell again!

  Defeat! He lied there silently

  A tear dropped from his eye

  "There's no sense running anymore:

  Three strikes: I'm out! Why try?"

  The will to rise had disappeared;

  All hope had fled away;

  So far behind, so error-prone:

  A loser all the way.

  "I've lost, so what's the use," he thought

  "I'll live with my disgrace."

  But then he thought about his dad

  Who soon he'd have to face.

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  "Get up," an echo sounded low.

  "Get up and take your place;

  You were not meant for failure here.

  Get up and win the race."

  "With borrowed will get up," it said,

  "You haven't lost at all.

  For winning is no more than this:

  To rise each time you fall."

  So up he rose to run once more,

  And with a new commit

  He resolved that win or lose

  At least he wouldn't quit.

  So far behind the others now,

  The most he'd ever been

  Still he gave it all he had

  And ran as though to win.

  Three times he'd fallen, stumbling;

  Three times he rose again:

  Too far behind to hope to win

  He still ran to the end.

  They cheered the winning runner

  As he crossed the line first place.

  Head high, and proud, and happy;

  No falling, no disgrace.

  But when the fallen youngster

  Crossed the line last place,

  The crowd gave him the greater cheer,

  For finishing the race.


  And even though he came in last

  With head bowed low, unproud,

  You would have thought he'd won the race

  To listen to the crowd.

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  And to his dad he sadly said,

  ''I didn't do too well."

  "To me, you won," his father said.

  "You rose each time you fell."

  III

  And when things seem dark and hard

  And difficult to face,

  The memory of that little boy

  Helps me in my race.

  For all of life is like that race.

  With ups and downs and all.

  And all you have to do to win,

  Is rise each time you fall.

  "Quit! Give up, you're beaten!"

  They still shout in my face.

  But another voice within me says:

  "GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

  D.H. Groberg

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  After a While

  After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

  And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security,

  And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises,

  And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,

  And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans.

  After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

  So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

  And you learn that you really can endure . . .

  That you really are strong,

  And you really do have worth.

  Veronica A. Shoffstall

  Submitted by Barbara Cowdy

  Reprinted by permission of Veronica A. Schoffstall. ©1995 Veronica A. Shoffstall.

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  Summit America

  "Why me?" Todd screamed as his dad pulled his bloody body out of the murky lake and into the boat. Todd remained conscious as his father, two brothers and three friends sped to shore to get help.

  It was all too surreal. Everyone had just spent a fun-filled day of water-skiing at the lake in Oklahoma where his grandparents lived. Todd wanted to go inner-tubing after everyone finished water-skiing. As he was untangling the ski ropes, the gears kicked into reverse and sucked his legs into the propellers, all in a flash of a moment. No one heard him scream until it was too late! Now he was in the hospital, hanging onto his life.

  Both legs were severely injured. The sciatic nerve in his right leg had been severed, causing his leg to be permanently paralyzed from the knee down to his toes. The doctors said there was a chance he would never walk again. Todd slowly recovered from his wounds, but bone disease eventually set into his right foot. For the next seven years, he physically and emotionally battled to keep his leg. However, the time had finally come for him to face his biggest fear.

  On a grim day in April, 1981, Todd lay conscious on the operating table at Massachusetts General waiting for the procedure to take place. He spoke calmly to

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  the hospital staff about what kind of pizza he wanted to eat after the surgery. "I'd like Canadian bacon and pineapple," he joked. As the dreaded moment approached, a wave of calmness swept over him. Peace filled his heart as he thought of a Bible verse from his childhood, "Righteousness goes before him and prepares the way for his steps."

  Todd knew with an unwavering conviction that his next step was to go through with the amputation. Any lingering doubt had vanished, and courage to face the inevitable prevailed. To obtain the lifestyle he desired, he had to lose his leg. In a few short minutes the leg was gone, but his whole future opened up.

  He studied psychology at the suggestion of friends and family. He graduated magna cum laude, then took a job as clinical director of the Amputee Resource Center in Southern California. With his background in psychology and his personal experience as an amputee, he began to notice how he was able to inspire other amputees through his work.

  "The steps I must take in my life are ordered," he remembered. "I guess I'm on the right path, but what is my next step?" he wondered.

  Until the accident he led a normal life. He hiked, camped, played sports, flirted with girls and hung out with his buddies. After his injury, he continued to socialize with his friends, but he had trouble playing sports. The artificial leg he received after the amputation allowed him to walk again, but not much more.

  There were nights Todd would dream of running through grassy fields, only to wake up to the harsh reality of his situation. He desperately wanted to run again.

  In 1993, he got his wish. A new type of prosthesis, called a Flex-Foot, was developed. He acquired one through his prosthetist.

  At first, he struggled to run, tripping over his feet

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  and gasping for breath. However, with perseverance he was soon able to run 12 miles a day.

  As he developed his abilities, a friend stumbled across an article in a magazine he thought Todd would find interesting. An organization was looking for an amputee to climb the highest mountain in each of the 50 states. There would be four other disabled climbers, and they would attempt to break a record by climbing all 50 highpoints in 100 days or less.

  The idea excited Todd. "Why not go for it?" he thought. "I used to love to hike and now I have an opportunity to explore my limits." He applied for the position and was immediately accepted.

  The expedition was set to begin in April 1994. Todd had almost a year to get prepared. He began to train for the climb by working out daily, changing his diet and practicing rock climbing on weekends. Everyone agreed it was a good idea, but some thought it might not be the most responsible choice.

  Todd didn't let those with negative concerns hold him back. He knew this was the right thing to do. When he prayed for direction, he was clear that this was to be the next step in his life.

  Everything was working out perfectlyuntil February 1994, when he received some discouraging news. The funding for the expedition fell through. The project coordinator said he was sorry, but there was nothing left to do but disband the project.

  "I will not quit!" Todd exclaimed. "I have put too much time and work into this to give up now. There is a message here that must be heard and, God willing, I'll find a way to make this expedition happen!"

  Undaunted by the news, Todd set out to put the wheels in motion. During the next six weeks, he gathered enough financial support to get a new expedition under way. He garnered the support of a few friends to

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  help him with the logistics of the climb. Whit Rambach would be his climbing partner, and I, Lisa Manley, would handle business from the home front. With everything now in order, he took off as scheduled with his new expedition called "Summit America."

  As Todd prepared for the expedition, he learned that only 31 people had ever reached the summit of all 50 highpoints. More people have successfully climbed Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world.

  Todd and Whit began the record for climbing all 50 highpoints at 5:10 P.M. on June 1, 1994 on Mt. McKinley in Alaska. The previous record holder, Adrian Crane, and a military sergeant, Mike Vining, assisted them in their climb on Denali, the Indian name for Mt. McKinley.