Tag: military

Psalm 144.7

The day a category 5 Super Typhoon was threatening to hit landfall directly on Dededo, Guam where my daughter lived, I was preparing for my third night as a new hire night shift grocery store stocker. It was 10 pm and I was just getting ready to clock in to work on my cell phone. I was in the truck in the parking lot of the big chain store with my employee vest on and name tag. I did one last search on my phone.

I Googled “Guam news” and sorted it by latest date media posts. In the parking lot in the dark, I could see the Vermont mountains in the distance and everything was calm and peaceful here. But in the videos of Guam, I could see palm trees being whipped around in the wind and forced over to almost bending halfway from the pressure. There were a few videos of some crashing waves on the shoreline and one video of some items falling off a building from the wind. The news outlets were saying that the Super Typhoon would be the worst storm in 20 years to hit the tiny island of 150,000 people in the Pacific. They were comparing it to a storm called Typhoon Karen that in the 1960s had devastated the island and destroyed many, many buildings. Fortunately, they said that the buildings had been reconstructed over the years using concrete and would be able to weather this storm better but that there were still major concerns with potential storm surges from the ocean, landslides, flash flooding, and the winds would be expected to be above 140 miles per hour. All residents were advised to stay inside during the storm and shelter in place.

My daughter was living in a one story home in northern Guam in Dededo close to the military base. Her father was former military and lived there and she had come to live there for two years with him, his wife, and their newborn son. The last messages I got from my ex-husband were that the storm was coming soon and that they might lose power and not be able to communicate with us for a while. I texted my daughter and ex-husband back to be safe and that we would be thinking of them and praying for them.

I clocked in to work and crossed the dark parking lot to enter the store. A truck had come that night which meant there were more pallets in my area than usual. I had 7 pallets piled high to unload by 6 am when the store opened for customers and I needed to make sure my area was cleared of all cardboard and pallets after stocking the shelves.

I was tired.

I was transitioning from day to night shift. In addition, my daughter was facing a Super Typhoon in the Pacific. My husband had a medical emergency earlier that week that nearly sent us to the ER. And to top it all off, that night, I had started my period.

It was gonna be a rough night.

From 10 pm to 12 midnight, our department worked fast unloading 27 bins of product onto the shelves. At midnight, I stepped outside for my 15 minute break and headed for the truck. I started up the heat in the truck and dug in my employee vest pocket for my cell phone in the dark. I grabbed a water bottle and drank it while I typed in another Google search and a Facebook search and an YouTube search. I was looking for anything about Guam and the latest videos and stories or news articles I could find.

It didn’t look good. It did not look good at all. I was beginning to get scared.

The winds were picking up. There were a few articles sporadically here and there but they pretty much said the same things that the storm was intense and highly dangerous. The people of Guam were right in its path and there could be flooding, landslides, loss of power and water, and potential mass destruction to the island if the category 5 storm went right over the top of the tiny island.

I checked the storm radar and you could see the storm all in red and yellow with the eye in the center and it was massive. It was still a few hours away from hitting the island.

From midnight to 2 am when I would take lunch for an hour, the work pace at the store was pretty fast. We had to clear at least 2 pallets or maybe even 3 hopefully before 2 am. We were stocking vitamins and shampoos and all sorts of pill bottles. We were ripping open lots of cardboard and putting things on shelves or top stock or sending it back to the spare pallet for overstock to be binned in the back warehouse by 6 am.

As a new hire, my feet were sore. My legs were sore. My lower back was sore and my fingers hurt from pulling apart boxes. I had to get conditioned to the work and was just sore all over by the third day. But I didn’t grumble much or speak of it and just tried to keep a fast pace to prove my worth.

At 2 am, I was out in the truck again for an hour lunch. I dug in my lunchbag and grabbed a soda and popped it open and a twinkie. I then checked online again.

More videos, not alot, just a few that people had taken from hotels in Guam behind windows where you could see the wind was crazy hard on the trees and some trees were breaking. There were a few other videos of things flying off roofs or things breaking off buildings. There was intense heavy rain and the winds were up to 100 mph.

They said the eye of the storm was almost upon them.

It was then that I started to pray. There wasn’t much else I could do as a mother stuck on the other side of the world worried about my kid in the storm on the tiny island. There were a few YouTube videos where I could see comments where folks said that there was some inland flooding too and that some water had gotten into barracks and such and first floors of homes. I knew my kid was in a one story home.

From 3 am to about 7 am that morning, while I was busy busting open boxes and going from aisle to aisle putting items neatly on shelves, in my head I was saying prayers and asking God to put a hedge of protection around the island like he did Job. I prayed and prayed and prayed a lot. There was nothing else I could do. Their power was out now and the storm was upon them in those hours and all I could do was pray.

All I kept saying in my head was protect Guam, God. Please protect Guam. Put a hedge of protection around the island.

By 7 am, I had done my best at work as a new hire. I still had 1/2 pallet that was undone. I tried hard but couldn’t get it all done. We cleaned up our boxes and mess and pallets and made everything look presentable for the customers and clocked out that morning.

By 7:05 am I was crossing the parking lot at daybreak with my cell phone in hand looking up Guam. When I got in the truck, pretty exhausted, I looked up more news about Guam and what I saw was pretty amazing. I started driving home in the pickup truck and started crying on my way home, worried about my kid overseas and the storm and feeling like there was nothing I could do to help her. And I kept praying to God and asking for his help over and over again with tears streaming down my face and ruining all my makeup.

My husband was up when I got home and he too was watching The Weather Channel for news of Guam. Despite being tired, we stayed in the living room for hours watching anything we could on the news about the tiny island and Super Typhoon Mawar.

Turns out, sometime in the night while I was stocking shelves, sometime after 2 am my time, the storm had started to turn. It turned just north of the island and the eye of the storm passed just north of the island by 15 miles. It missed the island barely and went between Guam and the Marianas.

On top of that, just before it hit the island, the storm miraculously downgraded from a category 5 to a category 4 and no one knew why. The storm was still intense though and videos were coming in here and there of the whipping winds breaking the trees, the lightning in the dark in the storm, of the massive rain pelting the island and more. The power and water were out in Guam and the last text I had gotten from my ex-husband was at 3 am to say that the power was intermittent and that they were alright. After that, there was nothing more from them.

Around 9 am or maybe 10 am, I had screen shot this photo of the path of the storm, Super Typhoon Mawar. I don’t know what website I had found it on. I must have searched at least 200 or more during the night. But here it is.

As you can see from the picture, the path of the storm Mawar had veered hours before just to the right of the island rather than going directly over it. It had also downgraded in intensity before going past the island. No one could explain why.

I looked at the numbers in this screen shot. I looked specifically at the numbers that were associated with the exact position of the storm. Position 13.8 N and 144.7 E. And that’s when my jaw fell open a bit.

The number 13 is usually associated with a bad omen or death or the devil according to the Bible or to Tarot. In Book of Revelations, 13 corresponds to the “beast of the sea.” But the number often associated with Jesus Christ in the Bible is 8. In Matthew 8 specifically Jesus calms the storm. In Book of Revelations, 144 is a special number corresponding to the number of the saved or chosen ones. Meanwhile the number often associated with the Holy Spirit in the Bible is 7. Furthermore, I typed in 144 and 7 in my Google search and put Bible with it.

For the past month or two, I had been doing a Billy Graham Words of Wisdom Psalm and Proverbs reading plan and writing about it online daily. Each day I would read 5 Psalms and 1 Proverb and write thoughts on it and I would ask the Holy Spirit to guide me on what to say.

When I typed in 144 and 7 and Bible in Google, this is the verse that popped up immediately, I screen shot it at that moment.

Tears started to well up in my eyes and I began to cry. Just hours before, a flash flood warning had been issued specifically for Dededo and there was concern about storm surge. My daughter was with her baby brother, father, and mother in a one story home in Dededo.

I honestly don’t think this was just coincidence. I think it was the Holy Spirit’s way of letting me know my daughter was going to be okay…..that she would have nothing to fear from the winds and rains and the potential flash flooding and storm surge that had been expected for the island.

I finally got exhausted and went to sleep and slept for a good 6 hours. We couldn’t get any communication from Guam. The power was down. Later on, I finally heard from my daughter one small text:

They are ok. The whole family is ok.

There is a lot of damage to trees on Guam and some buildings that need repair but the island is ok and I am grateful for that. My ex-husband took his family to his office where they have a generator for power and electricity. In a while, utilities and water will be back up and running for the island.

It was a close call. I don’t know what caused the storm to turn or the intensity to downgrade but I thank God for it.

https://www.foxweather.com/extreme-weather/typhoon-mawar-eyewall-replacement-cycle-guam

God is good, all the time.

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Be a Wingman – Napalm in the Morning

“You never know what battles people are facing. Be kind.” – anonymous

You ever watch the movie, Apocalypse Now? There’s a scene in the movie where the soldiers on the ground are taking heavy fire down by the river. It’s chaos. There’s yelling and gunshots everywhere and the commander gets on the coms and radios back to someone and pretty soon the scene shifts to some bomber planes off in the distance just moving in on the scene and they light up the enemy’s encampment with a huge wall of fire. I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

In life, we have a pivotal moment.

We can see a friend in need taking a beating from life and we can choose to do one of 2 things: we can come in hot and heavy for them and bring the heat or we can choose to be silent.

“Evil thrives when good men do nothing.”

You never know what battles a person may be facing in their life. In the TV show, Unbelievable, we see someone named Marie who was assaulted and chooses to tell the truth of what happened to her. She is then hit by doubt from police officers, doubt and mistrust from those closest to her, and begins to falter in life through failed jobs and failed opportunities and through internal sadness and depression.

You see, there are 2 parts to trauma.

First there is the initial battle we face in life. There is the first shock to our senses and our system. But the second shock and a shock I would argue is actually worse than death, is betrayal.

What is betrayal?

Betrayal is when we are taking heavy fire and we radio back on the coms for help and no one comes to our aid. We are not believed. We are ignored. We are told to be silent. We cannot speak our truth. We are isolated. We are mistreated. We are told to just keep going as if the betrayal wasn’t a giant knife wound straight to our heart making us question everything about our existence and our value to others and our trust.

The second level of trauma is a fate far worse than death because nothing breaks like a heart. It will take years upon years to heal this second part for the individual.

Go watch The Passion of Christ. Watch the moment, the worst moment in the movie.

It is the most sorrowful one.

It is not the actual death on the cross. It is not the scourging at the pillar. It is not the walk towards the end.

It is when Peter denies Jesus three times.

Jesus is standing before the tribunal. He finally speaks his truth knowing full well it will lead to a very painful death. Immediately, the crowd bears down on him, yelling and slandering and smacking him around till he falls to the ground. But it is not the crowd that has Jesus’ attention in that moment.

It is Peter.

Jesus takes the hits and the hits keep coming. He is bloodied and bruised and on his knees when Peter, remaining silent, hides a bit in the corner and people approach Peter not once but 3 times and say, “Aren’t you his closest friend?”

Peter gets scared. He doesn’t want the crowd to turn on him.

He says no. He is fearful.

On the third no, that is the sorrowful moment. Jesus is knocked to his knees, we think by the pummels of the crowd, but no, by the betrayal of a person he loved. He turns so slightly and looks Peter right in the eye, even as he continues to take the hits and that is the saddest part in the whole movie.

JF Kennedy’s wife was interviewed once. They asked her, “What is the best trait a woman can have as a wife?” The First Lady’s answer was loyalty. Now, think about that for a moment. Think about all the stories about JFK and Marilyn Monroe and all that and yet that still was the answer…..loyalty.

If that wasn’t the definition of a wingman, I don’t know what else is.

Sometimes we can get hurt, really hurt, by our friends and family. They can do god awful things to us. But, to come in hot, to bring the heat, to lay down a row of napalm on their life’s enemies whether physical or mental, there is no nobler thing for a soul to do on this planet.

Be a coward. Be silent. Be in the corner.

Or bring the heat.

It’s your choice really.

Me, I’d prefer to try to be a wingman. When I go to my maker and I’m asked what did I do, I can reply with all honesty, I did my best when the moment came. I went to bat for my friend, despite our differences, despite our internal arguments, etc. When the moment came, I did not shirk my responsibility to them.

We all make mistakes. We all have times in our life when we could have been better to others. But to have awareness and to not lend aid, that is a nearly unforgivable offense to another’s soul. You may not be able to do much. But if you can do even a little, it is far better than doing nothing at all.

For remember, your friend is not watching the crowd, they are watching you. When we go out on a limb, when we speak our truth out loud, we are more vulnerable in that moment than any other time. And to betray someone in their darkest hour is a far worse act than the brutality of enemies and villains.

What do we love about the story of the Red Baron? He was a dogfighter. Think of a dog. What is the best trait of a dog. Loyalty. Devotion. He’d drop outta the sky, outta the clouds, and start gunning the tail end of some bad guy blazing up and trailing his friends in the sky….one of the best wingmen that ever lived. To be a wingman is to have honor.

My grandfather died an honorable death. He was surrounded by friends and family and the military came to pay him tribute at the funeral. You see, my grandfather was the very definition of a wingman himself. At Wendling Air Station during WWII, his job was a mechanic chief to bomber planes. They’d fly out during the day on their bombing raids over Europe and at night, he and his crew would repair their planes all night long, refueling, and fixing bullet holes in the sides of the plane.

That’s what a friend does. It may not be the best job. It’s more like being Samwise than Frodo. But without Samwise, where would Frodo be?

I started donating monthly to St. Jude’s. Its a place where kids battle cancer. They sent me a letter and asked me to send 1 kid a holiday card. This Saturday, my husband and I were working up Christmas gift list and budgets. I asked him for 50 bucks to send some more cards to St. Jude’s.

You see, years ago…I was really sick and in a hospital. A friend sent me a card. In the card were just a few messages of hope and some biblical quotes. To this day…I remember, “We can do all things through our creator who strengthens us.” And I remember “For I know the plans for you…to give you a future and a hope.”

Sometimes being a friend is not really the napalm. It’s the little things that keep us going in life’s battles. Being someone’s wingman in a clutch moment…it’s a very good thing to be.

Return from Duty

by J. Speer

SSgt Miller took the overnight flight home.

It was a grueling flight much like the desert sands and blazing heat of the Middle East.

It had been a long year since he’d seen his children, now 14 and 8 years old.

The gym was a packed house.

He stood in the hallway in uniform near the school trophy cases.

Filled with deep emotion inside, he appeared calm and collected on the surface.

The school announced a special guest of honor over the intercom.

His daughter was on the Varsity team playing basketball.

She was a guard on the court.

The team was 7 and 2 this season.

It was something that together they discussed frequently over the long-distance phone calls at night.

He had taught her how to play ball.

Years ago in the driveway of their family home, they shot hoops together and played horse.

Countless hours.

He told her how to hold the ball just right for free throw shots and how to release it into the air.

When the school principal motioned him to enter the gym, his heart skipped a beat…

As did hers when she saw her father across the court.

She ran to him.

He held his arms out open wide.

His hat was in his left hand.

Her little brother and the soldier’s wife were already moving towards them from the stands.

Tears welled up in the faces of many nearby in the crowd as father and daughter embraced.

He kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair.

He held her tight.

She looked up at him smiling.

“I love you, Dad,” she said softly and shyly so only he could hear.

“I missed you.”

“I’m home,” he said with heartfelt gladness.

His son hugged them both.

The boy was grinning happily as he pressed his head against his father’s side.

His wife stood close by allowing her children this moment with their father.

She was crying tears of joy as well.

The crowd smiled and clapped loudly.

Home.

He was finally home.

Remembering 9/11

What I remember most about 9/11 was seeing my coworker cry.

We were in Germany at the US Army Transportation Management Center Europe. We were working on accounting bills for soldier travel throughout the theater. My coworker from downstairs came to our office and told us that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. We didn’t believe him at first. But we followed him down the stairs to a little radio at someone’s desk and we gathered around the radio listening to the broadcast in shock….especially when the towers fell. I remember bringing my hands cupped to my face and I remember that my coworker began crying very hard.

We left work early and I caught a ride to Vilseck. Everywhere all over the military bases, the soldiers were in formation. It was an eerie sight to behold. The woman I caught a ride with also was upset. Her husband was Infantry and she was certain we would be going to war and the soldiers in Germany would be sent first. Turns out, I think it was the Big Red One soldiers from my home state of Kansas at Ft. Riley that got activated first.

The day of the attack, she dropped me off at my husband’s unit where the soldiers there were also gathered in formation. My husband was a 1st Lieutenant at the time. He began pulling double duty shifts for three or four weeks after that. He and his soldiers would work during the day and help guard the gates of Vilseck at night. I remember that we went to Threatcon Delta immediately. I also remember that the German government sent German soldiers to guard our families too and protect us.

The next day after 9/11, I left for work at 2 am in the morning and it took many, many hours to get through security. If I close my eyes now, I can picture the long line of cars in the darkness and the soldiers at the gates checking and carefully inspecting each and every vehicle. We lived off base in a small community called Auerbach. The military commanders at Vilseck sent 2 humvees filled with 4 or 5 armed soldiers with helmets and kevlar equipment and big guns to guard our small community at night. The soldiers protected our families every night for weeks and we would go out there to give them coffee and hot chocolate at times.

I remember sitting in my German duplex in the nights that followed the attack and watching the news endlessly. I remember the conversations with the other wives….all our husbands were working overtime…..and so we gathered around at patio tables to discuss things. We were all kinda worried about the potential of war.

The hardest part about 9/11 was seeing the jumpers out of the World Trade Center buildings. It brought tears to my eyes then. 20 years later, the images still bring tears to my eyes.

The attacks were horrible but GW Bush was right in his latest speech at Shanksville today. 9/11 unified the American people unlike anything I have seen since. It didn’t matter what you looked like, what you prayed, what your background……you were an American. We were Americans together and we felt the pain and suffering on 9/11 together. In some respects, I miss that collective unity……..how in the face of adversity, devastation, and malevolence, the best and brightest of human connection rises to the surface to counter it.

Remember 9/11 but most of all, remember that unity when the American people came together and the many nations of the world such as Germany also stood by our side to offer support, respect, and condolences. God bless America.

The Christmas Gift

In college back in the late 90s, I worked at a large call center near the downtown shopping district and river. The call center was a large grey building with many small cubicles and monitors. There must have been around 200 telemarketers working there. The walls were covered with motivational posters and there were dry erase boards at the end of every aisle gauging sales performance of each worker group.

The entry level employees were hired at Christmas time for the holiday season of October, November, and December. Basically, if you performed well and made it through the holiday season, you would be hired on from the temp agency to work full-time at the higher levels of the call center. The second level was a phone repair line and the tiers above that were various cold calling projects.

The first level was an easy and fun job. Back then, we didn’t have a lot of online businesses and their websites. So, people would call us to place their Christmas orders in various catalogues that were sent to them in the mail. So the job went like this. A person would call in. You greet them and check their personal info as well as what catalogue they wanted to order from. Then together you flip through the catalogue and help them shop. Fun, right?! Who doesn’t like to shop??

Once they decided what they wanted, you placed the order on a computer (data entry stuff). Then you take their payment and process it. In the end, you wish them Happy Holidays and they hang up happy that their Christmas shopping is done.

A lot of times, you could also talk to the customers about their day or their job or home. Some were from NYC, some from California, some from Florida, etc. etc. You were also expected and encouraged to try to pitch a sale or two to the customer, recommending other items they might be interested in.

Around late October, all the telemarketers for this department were called together for a staff meeting to discuss ways to improve sales for the company. A large table was brought out displaying prizes you could receive for getting top sales.

I was in my second or third year of college and dating a ROTC cadet. On the prize table was a DVD set of military movies including Saving Private Ryan, a popular movie my boyfriend really liked.

I worked extra hard that Christmas season trying to get that DVD set. I took on more shifts and tried to do a couple of sales on each call. I really wanted to be a top performer just to get that DVD set and I told a couple of people including my supervisor that I intended to win that item from the table to give my boyfriend who was joining the Army.

Weeks and weeks of hard work and college went by. One day two days before Christmas, I walked into work and the prize table was gone. We were called together for a staff meeting. It was announced that the winners received their items they won from the table due to top sales performance. They thanked us for our hard work and wished us a Merry Christmas. The meeting was over and we got back to work.

I felt pretty down about it. I asked a couple of coworkers if they won and they said no too. We worked a long eight hour shift that day. I clocked out and bundled up in my coat and scarf to trudge out in the snow in the parking lot to my car.

It was dark outside and cold. I could see the steam from my breath as I walked out to my old Nissan Altima. There was someone standing by the back of my car. I recognized who it was. My supervisor was standing there. He was an older guy, good-looking and about 28 years old. He was from the coast, maybe Jersey or something like that cause he had an accent.

Anyway, I walked up to him and smiled but shivered some in the cold. I was curious why he was there.

He said, “ You’re a good kid. I know you worked hard this season and wanted this. Tell your boyfriend thank you for his service and Merry Christmas.”

He handed me a bag and started walking away in the snow. I looked in the bag and it was the DVD set. I looked up at him walking away. I said, “ I didn’t really win this, did I?”

He turned and looked at the building and he said, “ Nobody ever wins. They set that table out every year just to drive up sales.”

With that, he turned and kept walking. I hollered, “Thanks and Merry Christmas.” I had realized with a smile that somehow he had snuck the item off the table without others seeing. He lifted his hand to say goodbye and I got in my car and drove to my boyfriend’s apartment. He was pretty happy about the gift and I remember that we had a good Christmas that year.

You Have the Right to be Here

Perhaps I’ve told you this story before. I have told it so often. But, it does bear repeating I suppose….

There are certain moments in our lives that have a significant impact and will forever shape our destinies like perhaps the birth of your first child, the achievement of a college degree, or the attainment of an important goal. Some of these moments may even appear out of the blue on days which seem quite inconsequential to our existence. This is the story of one of those moments in my own life. It is a true story.

I am not a great writer. However, if I am able to effectively convey this positive message to you, the reader, then it will be worth all the effort.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. It occurred nearly 20 years ago when I was in my mid-20s. America was at war in the Middle East. I was a military spouse and my husband was deployed to Iraq. Also, through some great fortune or twist of fate, I had landed a Department of Defense Government Service Level 7 job south of Washington D.C. Although the title sounds quite auspicious, I assure you that I was merely a secretary. However, I worked for two important people.

They were military Colonels and engineers, highly intelligent and dedicated to their roles. My tasks were simple really. Once or twice a week, they would travel to the Pentagon to report their management of military building projects at bases all over the world. I would arrange their travel plans. Also, I was responsible for maintaining accurately their reports on these construction plans. One large and detailed report I worked on daily was called the War report.

One day, I royally screwed up the War report. We had a meeting and it was noted. I was publicly reprimanded. After all, I worked for the military. Admittedly, I fully deserved the reprimand considering the importance of the document. I endured the discipline in silence but my cheeks got real flush and later, I broke out in hives. It was the first and only time in my life that I broke out in hives.

The next couple of days, I worked diligently at my desk and tried not to mess up again. But, I was pretty quiet and feeling bad. On top of that, I was itchy and I was considering leaving the job.

The other Colonel called me in to his office politely. I rose from my desk and walked over there. He asked me to shut the door to his office and to “Please take a seat.” He remained seated at his desk and I sat down across from him and well,… kept my eyes down a bit.

He didn’t say anything at first. Perhaps he was looking for the right way to approach a conversation. I had assumed he wanted to talk about travel arrangements. He was leaving the very next day for D.C.

We didn’t share much in common, him and I, except our work perhaps. He was much older. He was male. I was female. He was African-American and I was Caucasian. The list of differences could probably go on and on.

Eventually, he motioned to the wall to his left and I looked over at the wall. On the wall were many military decorations that had been awarded to him through his 20+ years of service to the country. Some of them were quite large and prestigious looking. He waited for a moment, then he pointed to a small white piece of paper, handwritten, and framed under glass with just a plain small gold frame around it. It was placed at the center of the wall and seemed unimportant compared to the other items. In fact, I had sorta skipped over it as I had looked at the other awards.

He said, “That one is the most important.” He remained pointing at the little framed paper.

Then he motioned for me to go and look at the item. I got up from my chair and wandered over to the wall. It was a poem, a little poem copied down. The title read The Desiderata and it said it was written by some guy named Max Ehrmann, some guy I had never heard of.

He told me, “Read it.” That’s all he simply said. I stood there at that wall for a while and really read the poem, word for word. When, I finished the last portion of the poem where it read, you are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here.

Well, I felt better and as I finished up the final section, I admit I got a little teary-eyed.

I sat back down across from him. We both looked at each other. He was a man of few words and he only really spoke when he had something important to say.

He said, “Go back and just do the best you can. That’s all you can do.”

In hindsight, that was probably about one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me whether he realized his impact or not. He didn’t have to help me but he did in his own unique and wise way. Perhaps this small story seems unimportant to you but it would go on to influence my future.

This poem has a special place in my heart because of that moment. Years later, I would buy a copy of it and I gave it to my children. I read it to them. Years later, I would tell someone here or there about the story. Years later, whenever I was down and out…I would read this poem and feel comforted and hopeful. Whenever I felt unworthy or not valued by others, I would remember the line about the child of the universe.

You have a right to be here.

And years later, today, I write this story to you with the intention that it will inspire you as well. The last few words of the poem are “Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.” This is something as I grow older, that I firmly do believe in regarding attitude determining altitude.

I encourage you to take a moment and read The Desiderata. This world, despite all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, is still a beautiful place.

8 Traits of a Wise Leader

This is a short presentation I put together a few years back for a university concerning leadership skills. It discusses various topics like General George Washington, the Human Genome Project, NASA, etc. Here are the slides and speech material: