Johnny Lingo And His 10 Cow Wife

By Craig DeLuz

If you have never read this story before, you are about to truly be blessed! Every time I read it, I get choked up.

It reminds me of how blessed I am to have such a wonderful woman at my side, and just how important it is that I treat her like the gift from God that she is.

"Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and then let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin as I sat on the veranda of his guest house and wondered whether to visit Nurabandi. "He'll earn his commission four times over. Johnny knows values and how to make a deal."

"Johnny Lingo." The chubby boy on the veranda steps hooted the name, then hugged his knees and rocked with shrill laughter.

"Be quiet," said his father and the laughter grew silent. "Johnny Lingo's the sharpest trader in this part of the Pacific."

The simple statement made the boy choke and almost roll off the steps. Smiles broadened on the faces of the villagers st anding nearby.

Daily Inspiration - August 30, 2010

By Terry Minion

"No rules exist, and examples are simply life-savers answering the

appeals of rules making vain attempts to exist."

-- Andre Breton

"We started off trying to set up a small anarchist community,

but people wouldn't obey the rules."

-- Alan Bennett

"No tendency is quite so strong in human nature

as the desire to lay down rules of conduct for other people."

-- William Howard Taft

There are rules and then there are rules . . . Think about it. Add up the number of rules that you have in your life right now. How about all the rules at work, the rules of etiquette, rules of taste and rules of conduct. Then there's the rules of law and the rules of the road and rules of right and wrong (conscience). OMG they go on forever, don't they?

How many do you break? How often? Who cares?

Breaking a rule and not getting caught is that like the sound of the tree in the forest when no one is there to hear it? Heck, I break the speed limit rules virtually every day of my life to one degree or five or six. You know, the safe zone. I've broken so many rules throughout my entire life that it would be scary to list them all.

Who cares? I know I don't care much. I suppose if I did, I would be more careful to not break them. Who made the rules, anyway? What is the meaning of all that?

The rules I break more often than any other rules is the most predominate rules on the planet: those made for my conduct by other people. I mean, really! What's with that!? Heck, I'm usually break those on purpose! It's like they deserve to be broken. Know what I mean? Where do they get off directing my conduct or thought?

So, my philosophy is that rules is a fluid concept. Maybe, maybe not. It depends.

Daily Inspirations August 23, 2010

By Terry Minion

"If you always live with those who are lame,
you will yourself learn to limp."

-- Latin Proverb

You must constantly ask yourself these questions:
Who am I around? What are they doing to me?
What have they got me reading?
What have they got me saying?
Where do they have me going?
What do they have me thinking?
And most important,
What do they have me becoming?
Then ask yourself the big question:
Is that okay?

-- Jim Rohn

Who we hang with is extremely important in who we are, or who we become. It is natural and so easy to pick up habits of speech, posture, styles, mannerisms when we are around other people regularly. Many times the changes in us are subtle, but they are unmistakable.

Here's the truth: Since it is natural to have others influence us, our choices of who they are is extremely important. At the same time, it is natural for us to influence others, and our choices as to how we do that are extremely important.

Are they a positive or negative influence on us? Are we a positive or negative influence on them? Are we growing as a result of the relationship, or are we standing still? The choice is 100% our own and the results of it are also 100% our own.

The Good Stuff

By Joseph C. Phillips

It was a glass mug that I treasured dearly. My sophomore year in college my little sister, Carole, had given me the mug for Christmas. As a special treat she had engraved my nickname, "Joey" into the Mug. It wasn't fancy or expensive; just a regular glass mug. After my sister passed away the mug took on a sentimental value and I loved it. It was a beautiful reminder of a sister that was also my best friend.

This mug had survived a year of dormitory life, 9 years of Brooklyn apartment living, a move to New Jersey, a cross country move to California and three moves around the city of Los Angeles. Alas, the mug couldn't survive children.

Unfortunately for me, my favorite glass also struck the fancy of my number one son. When reaching for a mug to drink from, this was the one he often chose. I explained the significance of the mug to him and he promised to be careful. Of course little boys always promise to be careful just like they always promise to be good. Given enough time they always end up breaking both promises. One day while not paying attention he went to set the mug on the edge of the counter and missed. The glass fell to the floor shattering into 20 pieces. My wife was sure that all hell was about to break loose, but I have really been working hard on understanding what is important in life. It would be a lie to say that I didn't remind my son of the mugs history through slightly clenched teeth. However, to my credit (I think) and my wife's surprise I didn't yell. I took a breath, reminded myself that this was only a glass, grabbed the broom and dust pan and swept the pieces into the garbage. Se la vie.

A wise man once told me that nothing real can ever be taken away. The mug is gone, but the love, respect and admiration I feel for my sister remains. That's the good stuff. The same is true of being a parent.

A few weeks ago I watched this same son perform a karate form for his school talent show. It was one of those moments that parents are all too familiar with: your heart swells, your throat tightens and the water comes to your eyes. It is a feeling of transcendent euphoria that is difficult to describe to those that have not felt it.

My sons often ask me what heaven will be like. I playfully respond it will be like taking a bite of the most perfect pepperoni pizza you have ever tasted or lifting your head into the most perfect breeze. I think I will add that heaven must certainly be something near to the good stuff of parenting: kissing the softest, fattest, most milk smellingest cheeks of your new born, the sweet comfort in the hug made with little arms, bathing in the most radiant smile of your son when he hits his first homerun or scores his first touchdown, or watching from the audience as your child performs.

I have often wondered about parents - fathers in particular that choose NOT to experience the good stuff. These are the fathers that choose not to take an active role in their children's lives. We know the statistics all too well: 85% of children from 'this" group do not have regular contact with their fathers, 55% of children from "that" group do not see theirs.

The studies are clear on the negative impact absentee fathers have on their children. What we don't know is what affect absence has on fathers. I can only imagine that a man that fathers children yet chooses not to raise them suffers some deep damage to the soul. If being immersed in the good stuff is heaven then being removed from it must certainly be hell.

I treasure fatherhood especially because it's replete with broken mugs, broken beds, sunflower seeds in the dryer, socks on the ceiling fan.All of it is the good stuff. I wouldn't miss any of it for the world.

*Republished commentary from June 2009