My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau
and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package.  "This," he said, "is not 
a slip.  This is lingerie."  He discarded the tissue and handed
me the slip.  It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with 
a cobweb of lace.  The price tag with an astronomical figure on
it was still attached.  "Jan bought this the first time we went
to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago.  She never wore it. She 
was saving it for a special occasion.
"Well, I guess this is the occasion."  He took the slip from me
and put it on the bed  with the other clothes we were taking to
the mortician.  His hands lingered on the soft material for a 
moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.
"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. 
Every day you're alive is a special occasion."

I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that
followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad
chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on
the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where
my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she
hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she
had done without realizing that they were special.

I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life.
I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and
admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden.
I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time
in committee meetings.   Whenever possible, life should be a
pattern of experience to savor, not endure.  I'm trying to recognize
these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for
every special event - such as losing a pound, getting the sink
unstopped, the first camellia blossom.  I wear my good blazer to
the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous,
I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without
wincing.  I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties;
clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that
function as well as my party-going friends.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my
vocabulary.  If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to
see and hear and do it now.  I'm not sure what my sister would 
have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow 
we all take for granted. I think she would have called family
members and a few close friends.. She might have called a few
former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles.
I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner,
her favorite food.  I'm guessing-I'll never know.  It's those
little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew
that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good
Friends whom I was going to get in touch with-someday. Angry
because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to
write-one of these days.  Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my
husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything
that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every
morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath truly is...a gift from God
by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)






First I was dying to finish high school and start college;
And then I was dying to finish college and start working;
And then I was dying to marry and have children;
And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough
so I could return to work;
And then I was dying to retire;
And now, I am dying ... and suddenly realize I forgot to live.
Author unknown






Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate.  He was always
in a good mood and always had something positive to say.  When
someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply,  "If I
were any better, I would be twins!"  

He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had
followed him around from restaurant to restaurant.  The reason
the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude.  He was 
a natural motivator.  If an employee were having a bad day, Jerry 
was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side
of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up 
to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it!  You can't be a positive
person all of the time. How do you do it?"
Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 'Jerry,
you have two choices today.   You can choose to be in a good mood 
or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good
mood.  Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a
victim or I can choose to learn from it.  I choose to learn from
it.  Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to
accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of
life.  I choose the positive side of life."
"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.
"Yes it is," Jerry said.

"Life is all about choices.  When you cut away all the junk,
every situation is a choice.  You choose how you react to situations.
You choose how people will affect your mood.  You choose to be in a
good mood or bad mood.  The bottom line: It's your choice how
you live life."

I reflected on what Jerry said.  Soon thereafter, I left the
restaurant industry to start my own business.  We lost touch,
but often thought about him when I made a choice about life
instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are
never supposed to do in a restaurant business: He left the back
door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed
robbers.  While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from
nervousness, slipped off the combination.  The robbers panicked
and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and
rushed to the local trauma center.  After 18 hours of surgery 
and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital 
with fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident.  When I asked
him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins.
Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him
what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.
"The first thing that went through my mind was that I should
have locked the back door," Jerry replied.  "Then, as I lay
on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose
to live, or I could choose to die.  I chose to live.
"Weren't you scared?  Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great.  They kept telling
me I was going to be fine.  But when they wheeled me into the
emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the
doctors and nurses, I got really scared.  In their eyes, I read,
'He's a dead man.'  I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me,"
said Jerry.
"She asked if I was allergic to anything.  'Yes,' I replied.
The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my
reply.  I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!'  Over their
laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live.  Operate on me as
if I am alive, not dead."

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because
of his amazing attitude.  I learned from him that every day we
have the choice to live fully.  Attitude, after all, is
everything.
Author unknown.








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From the Desk of Mimesq