A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul
My goal is a cure. Will it happen in my lifetime? I don't know because we're racing against time. But I'm optimistic that our trailblazing path will be successful. Even if a cure is found too late to help me, at least I will have accomplished this: My children will know who I was and what I stood for. I just wish there were more hours in the day. I have a lot of living to do.
Sharon Monsky, as told to Dianne Hales
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The Beauty Remains; the Pain Passes
Although Henri Matisse was nearly 28 years younger than Auguste Renoir, the two great artists were dear friends and frequent companions. When Renoir was confined to his home during the last decade of his life, Matisse visited him daily. Renoir, almost paralyzed by arthritis, continued to paint in spite of his infirmities. One day as Matisse watched the elder painter working in his studio, fighting torturous pain with each brush stroke, he blurted out: "Auguste, why do you continue to paint when you are in such agony?"
Renoir answered simply: "The beauty remains; the pain passes." And so, almost to his dying day, Renoir put paint to canvas. One of his most famous paintings, The Bathers, was completed just two years before his passing, 14 years after he was stricken by this disabling disease.
The Best of Bits & Pieces
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The Miracle Bridge
The Brooklyn Bridge that spans the river between Manhattan and Brooklyn is simply an engineering miracle. In 1883, a creative engineer, John Roebling, was inspired by an idea for this spectacular bridge project. However, bridge-building experts told him to forget it, it just was not possible. Roebling convinced his son, Washington, an up-and-coming engineer, that the bridge could be built. The two of them conceived the concept of how it could be accomplished and how to overcome the obstacles. Somehow they convinced bankers to finance the project. Then, with unharnessed excitement and energy, they hired their crew and began to build their dream bridge.
The project was only a few months under way when a tragic on-site accident killed John Roebling and severely injured his son. Washington was severely brain-damaged, unable to talk or walk. Everyone thought the project would have to be scrapped, since the Roeblings were the only ones who understood how the bridge could be built.
Though Washington Roebling was unable to move or talk, his mind was as sharp as ever. One day as he lay in his hospital bed, an idea flashed in his mind as to how to develop a communication code. All he could move was one finger, so he touched the arm of his wife with that
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finger. He tapped out the code to communicate to her what she was to tell the engineers who continued building the bridge. For 13 years, Washington tapped out his instructions with one finger until the spectacular Brooklyn Bridge was finally completed.
A Fresh Packet of Sower's Seeds
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True Height
The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.
Molière
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
Charles A. Beard
His palms were sweating. He needed a towel to dry his grip. A glass of ice water quenched his thirst but hardly cooled his intensity. The Astroturf he sat on was as hot as the competition he faced today at the National Junior Olympics. The pole was set at 17 feet. That was three inches higher than his personal best. Michael Stone confronted the most challenging day of his pole-vaulting career.
The stands were still filled with about 20,000 people, even though the final race had ended an hour earlier. The pole vault is truly the glamour event of any track and field competition. It combines the grace of a gymnast with the strength of a body builder. It also has the element of flying, and the thought of flying as high as a two-story building is a mere fantasy to anyone watching such an event. Today and now, it is not only Michael Stone's reality and dreamit is his quest.
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As long as Michael could remember he had always dreamed of flying. Michael's mother read him numerous stories about flying when he was growing up. Her stories were always ones that described the land from a bird's-eye view. Her excitement and passion for details made Michael's dreams full of color and beauty. Michael had this one recurring dream. He would be running down a country road. He could feel the rocks and chunks of dirt at his feet. As he raced down the golden-lined wheat fields, he would always outrun the locomotives passing by. It was at the exact moment he took a deep breath that he began to lift off the ground. He would begin soaring like an eagle.
Where he flew would always coincide with his mother's stories. Wherever he flew was with a keen eye for detail and the free spirit of his mother's love. His dad, on the other hand, was not a dreamer. Bert Stone was a hard-core realist. He believed in hard work and sweat. His motto: If you want something, work for it!
From the age of 14, Michael did just that. He began a very careful and regimented weightlifting program. He worked out every other day with weights, with some kind of running work on alternate days. The program was carefully monitored by Michael's coach, trainer and father. Michael's dedication, determination and discipline was a coach's dream. Besides being an honor student and only child, Michael Stone continued to help his parents with their farm chores. Michael's persistence in striving for perfection was not only his obsession but his passion.
Mildred Stone, Michael's mother, wished he could relax a bit more and be that "free dreaming" little boy. On one occasion she attempted to talk to him and his father about this, but his dad quickly interrupted, smiled and said, "You want something, work for it!"
All of Michael's vaults today seemed to be the reward for his hard work. If Michael Stone was surprised, thrilled or
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arrogant about clearing the bar at 17 feet, you couldn't tell. As soon as he landed on the inflated landing mat, and with the crowd on its feet, Michael immediately began preparing for his next attempt at flight. He seemed oblivious of the fact he had just surpassed his personal best by three inches and that he was one of the final two competitors in the pole-vaulting event at the National Junior Olympics.
When Michael cleared the bar at 17 feet 2 inches and 17 feet 4 inches, again he showed no emotion. Constant preparation and determination were his vision. As he lay on his back and heard the crowd groan, he knew the other vaulter had missed his final jump. He knew it was time for his final jump. Since the other vaulter had fewer misses, Michael needed to clear this vault to win. A miss would get him second place. Nothing to be ashamed of, but Michael would not allow himself the thought of not winning first place.
He rolled over and did his ritual of three finger-tipped push-ups along with three Marine-style push-ups. He found his pole, stood and stepped on the runway that led to the most challenging event of his 17-year-old life.
The runway felt different this time. It startled him for a brief moment. Then it all hit him like a wet bale of hay. The bar was set at nine inches higher than his personal best. That's only one inch off the National record, he thought. The intensity of the moment filled his mind with anxiety. He began shaking the tension from his body. It wasn't working. He became more tense. Why was this happening to him now, he thought. He began to get nervous. Afraid would be a more accurate description. What was he going to do? He had never experienced these feelings. Then out of nowhere, and from the deepest depths of his soul he envisioned his mother. Why now? What was his mother doing in his thoughts at a time like this? It was simple. His mother always used to tell him when you felt tense, anxious or even scared, take deep breaths.
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So he did. Along with shaking the tension from his legs, he gently laid his pole at his feet. He began to stretch out his arms and upper body. The light breeze that was once there was now gone. He could feel a trickle of cold sweat running down his back. He carefully picked up his pole. He felt his heart pounding. He was sure the crowd did, too. The silence was deafening. When he heard the singing of some distant robins in flight, he knew it was his time to fly.
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As he began sprinting down the runway, something felt wonderfully different, yet familiar. The surface below him felt like the country road he used to dream about. The rocks and chunks of dirt, the visions of the golden wheat fields seemed to fill his thoughts. When he took a deep breath, it happened. He began to fly. His take-off was effortless. Michael Stone was now flying, just like in his childhood dreams. Only this time he knew he wasn't dreaming. This was real. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The air around him was the purest and freshest he had ever sensed. Michael was soaring with the majesty of an eagle.
It was either the eruption of the people in the stands or the thump of his landing that brought Michael back to earth. On his back with that wonderful hot sun on his face, he knew he could only envision the smile on his mother's face. He knew his dad was probably smiling too, even laughing. Bert would always do that when he got excited, smile and then sort of giggle. What he didn't know was that his dad was hugging his wife and crying. That's right: Bert "If You Want It, Work For It" Stone was crying like a baby in his wife's arms. He was crying harder than Mildred had ever seen before. She also knew he was crying the greatest tears of all: tears of pride. Michael was immediately swarmed with people hugging and congratulating him on the greatest accomplishment of his life. He
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later went on that day to clear 17 feet 61/2 inches: a National and International Junior Olympics record.
With all the media attention, endorsement possibilities and swarming herds of heartfelt congratulations, Michael's life would never be the same. It wasn't just because he won the National Junior Olympics and set a new world record. And it wasn't because he had just increased his personal best by 91/2 inches. It was simply because Michael Stone is blind.
David Naster
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Consider This
The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were not limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.
Helen Keller
Consider this:
Ski instructor Pete Seibert was considered crazy when he first disclosed his dream to start a ski resort. Standing on the summit of a mountain in the Gore Range in Colorado, Seibert described a dream he had carried with him since age 12, and began the challenge of convincing others that it was possible. Seibert's dream is now a reality called Vail.
Young Dr. Ignatius Piazza, fresh out of chiropractic school wanted to open a practice in the beautiful Monterey Bay area of California. He was told by the local chiropractic community that the area was already overrun with chiropractors and there were not enough potential patients to support another practice. For the next four months, Piazza spent 10 hours a day
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going door to door and introducing himself as a new chiropractic doctor in town. He knocked on 12,500 doors, spoke to 6,500 people and invited them to come to his future open house. As a result of his perseverance and commitment, during his first month in practice, he saw 233 new patients and earned a record income for that time of $72,000 in one month!
During its first year of business, the Coca-Cola Company sold only 400 Cokes.
Basketball superstar Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team.
At age 17, Wayne Gretzky was an outstanding athlete intent on pursuing a career in either soccer or hockey. His first love was hockey, but when he tried out for the pros, he was told, ''You don't weigh enough. At 172 pounds, you're over 50 pounds lighter than the average player. You won't be able to survive on the rink."
Sheila Holzworth lost her sight when she was only 10 years old. The orthodontic headgear that was attached to her braces snapped and gouged her eyes. Despite her lack of sight, she went on to become an internationally known athlete whose accomplishments included climbing to the icy summit of Mount Rainier in 1981.
Rafer Johnson, the decathlon champion, was born with a club foot.
Dr. Seuss's first children's book, And to Think that I Saw It on Mulberry Street, was rejected by 27 publishers. The 28th publisher, Vanguard Press, sold 6 million copies of the book.
Richard Bach completed only one year of college, then trained to become an Air Force jet-fighter pilot. Twenty months after earning his wings, he resigned. Then he became an editor of an aviation magazine that went bankrupt. Life became one failure after
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another. Even when he wrote Jonathan Livingston Seagull, he couldn't think of an ending. The manuscript lay dormant for eight years before he decided how to finish itonly to have 18 publishers reject it. However, once it was published, the book went on to sell 7 million copies in numerous languages and make Richard Bach an internationally known and respected author.
The author William Kennedy had written several manuscripts, all of them rejected by numerous publishers, before his "sudden success" with his novel Ironweed, which was rejected by 13 publishers before it was finally accepted for publication.
When we wrote Chicken Soup for the Soul, it was turned down by 33 publishers before Health Communications agreed to publish it. All the major New York publishers said, "It is too nicey-nice" and "Nobody wants to read a book of short little stories." Since that time over 7 million copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul, A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul and the Chicken Soup for the Soul Cookbook have been sold worldwide, with the books translated into 20 languages.
In 1935, the New York Herald Tribune's review of George Gershwin's classic Porgy and Bess stated that it was "Sure-fire rubbish."
In 1902, the poetry editor of the Atlantic Monthly returned the poems of a 28-year-old poet with the following note: "Our magazine has no room for your vigorous verse." The poet was Robert Frost.
In 1889, Rudyard Kipling received the following rejection letter from the San Francisco Examiner: "I'm sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just don't know how to use the English language."
Alex Haley got a rejection letter once a week for four years as a budding writer. Later in his career, Alex was
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ready to give up on the book Roots and himself. After nine years on the project, he felt inadequate to the task and was ready to throw himself off a freighter in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. As he was standing at the back of the freighter, looking at the wake and preparing to throw himself into the ocean, he heard the voices of all his ancestors saying, "You go do what you got to do because they are all up there watching. Don't give up. You can do it. We're counting on you!" In the subsequent weeks the final draft of Roots poured out of him.
John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim's Progress while confined to a Bedford prison cell for his views on religion; Sir Walter Raleigh wrote the History of the World during a 13-year imprisonment; and Martin Luther translated the Bible while confined in the Castle of Wartburg.
One of the secrets of success is to refuse to let temporary setbacks defeat us.
Mary Kay
After Thomas Carlyle lent the manuscript of The French Revolution to a friend whose servant carelessly used it to kindle a fire, he calmly went to work and rewrote it.