“For each new morning with its light, for rest and shelter of the night, for health and food, for love and friends, for everything thy goodness sends. I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and new.”
May you and yours have a blessed and joyful Thanksgiving!
Cheers,
Image via Shutterstock.
For those of you who hail from the B2B marketing world, a new handbook is just hot off the press. Whether you’re a seasoned pro or a novice in marketing communications – you’ll find some great nuggets of wisdom that will help to make your work a whole lot easier.
Written by smartass marketer extraordinaire, Carro Susan Ford, The Smartass Marketer’s Handbook contains a toolkit of tips and advice on anything and everything – from marketing plans, content briefs, press releases and customer case studies… to webinars, presentations and so much more.
For well over two decades, I’ve had the privilege of working with Carro and am proud to call her one of my dearest friends. After all, we’re both smartass marketers and as for attitude, well… that’s a given, isn’t it?
The Smartass Marketer’s Handbook is currently available at http://smartassmarketershandbook.com/ and on Amazon. If you’re a true blue B2B marketer, you’ll want to treat yourself by buying a copy of this book.
“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of the people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.”
“Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries
for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those
who have used him well; making them old men and women
inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits
young and in full vigor. With such people the gray head is
but the impression of the old fellow’s hand in giving them
his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch
in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.”
Image by Mike Baird via Flickr.com.
The Second Edition of Casualties of the (Recession) Depression will be coming out late Fall – complete with new and updated socio-economic statistics, additional vignettes and chapters, and sporting a new cover.
This series of vignettes depicts the many faces of the Recession (really a 21st century depression). These are the firsthand account stories of real people. Their names have been replaced by the generic “he” – “she” – “they” … both to protect their privacy and also to bring home the point that it could happen to anyone, including you or me. In the context of this book, the objective was to record real, and sometimes raw, moments experienced by people who have been adversely affected by this long economic downturn. By capturing these brief episodes and providing a written backdrop for each year – in the form of an economic and political commentary– the reader can see the transformation and progression of this (Recession) Depression from its conception to its continued existence in the present day.
Here’s an excerpt from the book:
VIGNETTE: Through the Eyes of a Child
She skittered behind the stairwell and sat down. With her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, she watched through the space between the stairs. Her long ash blonde hair cascaded around her like a shawl. Her clear, blue eyes were wide and close to tears. The lady who lived next door was talking with her mother and as they passed by the stairs, the lady spotted her and smiled. She put her finger up to her nose silently. The lady understood and didn’t tell her mother that she was hiding under the stairs. They went into the next room.
She hadn’t seen her father all morning. The night before, her parents had a terrible fight. They were always fighting. But last night was the worst. They had been yelling at one another and then she heard her mother crying. She had buried her face in the pillow, to block out the sounds. After awhile, everything went quiet. From her bedroom window, she heard a noise on the back porch. She looked out and down, towards the porch, and saw that her father was sitting on the steps. She wiggled out of bed and tip-toed downstairs. She opened the screen door just enough so that she could see him better. He was bent over with his hands around his head. He was making a sound that she had never heard before. Daddy was crying! She had never seen her Daddy cry before. Things must be terribly wrong. Her heart started beating fast. She covered her mouth to stifle a cry. Quietly, she closed the door and went back upstairs to her room. She cried herself to sleep.
This morning, her mother told her to stay out of the way because men were coming to take all their furniture and things away. She didn’t understand why. There were four of them. Big and sweaty, they were taking things out of the house. Nobody noticed her behind the stairwell. She saw them take her princess canopy bed away. Her mouth began to tremble and she bit her lip, to keep from crying. A big man with no hair came out of her playroom, carrying her toy box and on top of the box was her favorite American Girl® Doll, Caroline. Caroline had blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her. She gasped. The big man heard her. He turned around and bent down slightly, squinting his eyes. Then, he spotted her. He saw her staring at the doll on top of the box that he was carrying. He started to turn away towards the front door, but her tear-stained face and big blue eyes stopped him. He looked around. No one else was in sight, or so he thought. Quickly, he grabbed the doll and slid it under the stairs. He put his fingers to his lips, “Shhh…” and gave her a wink. Then he was gone. She grinned from ear to ear and clutched Caroline to her chest.
She heard a noise and looked up. The lady next door extended her hand. She put her hand in the neighbor’s and, holding Caroline tightly, she got up from under the stairs. The lady called out to her mother and said that she would take her (and Caroline) next door for some tea and cake. She and the lady had always enjoyed their little tea parties together. She would miss the kind lady when they moved.
As they left the house, she saw the man with no hair. She gave him a shy smile and he looked at her. His eyes were soft and wet. “Maybe he’s coming down with a cold,” she thought.
Copyright © 2013-2014 by Heather Joan Marinos
All rights reserved.
“Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.”
― Sally Brampton, Shoot The Damn Dog: A Memoir Of Depression
I’m at a loss for words.
When I heard about Robin William’s suicide, I wept.
I never met the man, but I saw every film that he was in and marveled at his comedic genius. He was a brilliant comic, and yet he could turn the coin and be a stunning, dramatic actor.
He had charisma. Hell, he exuded charisma!
He made me laugh (the deep belly laugh, tears streaming down my face) and he made me cry.
I am both deeply sad and angry that he died…. way too soon, at the age of 63.
What is so tragic is that in one moment of madness (deep depression), he ended his life. It only takes that one moment.
Life is finite. The decisions one makes in an instant, may have a lasting, irreparable impact on one’s life.
If Robin had taken a few more minutes to think about his options, the blessings in his life, would he have made the same choice?
I think not.
The very concept of suicide breaks my heart.
We all have our own personal religious and spiritual beliefs, but… let’s face it, who among us has died and come back to tell us what lies beyond? Therefore, doesn’t it make sense to make the most of our life (lives) while we’re still here on this earth?
As long as we live, there is Hope.
My heart goes out to Robin’s family and close friends.
He was one of the Special Ones. One of a kind.
R.I.P. Robin Williams. You will be missed deeply.
“In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life.”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
The unspeakable tragedy of the attack on Malaysia Flight MH17, killing all 298 passengers and crew members, has shocked the world.
298 people… 80 of whom were children.
Dozens were renowned AIDS researchers, en route to the 20th International AIDS Conference in Melbourne, Australia.
They hailed from 11 different countries:
The world community is united in grief for these men, women, boys and girls.
A heinous crime against humanity has been committed. There is no doubt that those responsible for this mass murder will be brought to justice.
But, for now, let us focus our prayers and thoughts on the families and friends who are mourning such tragic loss.
Below is The Lord’s Prayer, spoken in Dutch … and the written words (scroll further down) in Dutch, English, Filipino, French, German, and Indonesian (which is also … I think, the same in Malaysian).
in DUTCH:
ONZE VADER
Onze vader die in de hemel zijt
Uw naam worde geheiligd.
Uw rijk kome.
Uw wil geschiede op aarde zoals in de hemel.
Geef ons heden ons dagelijks brood.
En vergeef ons onze schuld,
zoals wij ook aan anderen hun schuld vergeven.
En leid ons niet in bekoring,
maar verlos ons van het kwade.Amen.
in ENGLISH:
OUR FATHER
Our Father,
who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come;
thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
and forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us;
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.Amen.
in FILIPINO:
AMA NAMIN
Ama namin, sumasalangit Ka.
Sambahin ang ngalan Mo.
Mapasaamin ang kaharian mo
Sundin ang loob Mo dito sa lupa para nang sa langit.
Bigyan Mo kami ng aming kakanin sa araw-araw
At patawarin Mo kami sa aming mga sala
Para nang pagpapatawad namin sa nagkakasala sa amin.
At huwag Mo kaming ipahintulot sa tukso
At iadya Mo kami sa lahat ng masamaAmen.
in FRENCH:
Notre Père
Notre Père qui es aux cieux,
que ton Nom soit sanctifié,
que ton règne vienne,
que ta volonté soit faite
sur la terre comme au ciel.
Donne-nous aujourd’hui notre pain de ce jour.
Pardonne-nous nos offenses,
comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés.
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation,
mais délivre-nous du mal.
[Car c’est à Toi qu’appartiennent
le règne, la puissance et la gloire,
pour les siècles des siècles.]Amen.
in GERMAN:
UNSER VATER
Unser Vater im Himmel,
dein Name werde geheiligt,
dein Reich komme,
dein Wille geschehe
wie im Himmel, so auf der Erde.
Gib uns heute das Brot, das wir brauchen.
Und erlaß uns unsere Schulden,
wie auch wir sie unseren Schuldnern erlassen haben.
Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung,
sondern rette uns vor dem Bösen.Amen.
in INDONESIAN (and also MALAYSIAN):
BAPA KAMI
Bapa kami yang ada di Surga,
dikuduskanlah nama-Mu.
Datanglah kerajaan-Mu, jadilah kehendak-Mu,
di bumi seperti di surga.
Berikanlah kami pada hari ini makanan kami yang secukupnya,
dan ampunilah kami akan kesalahan kami
seperti jami juga mengampuni orang yang bersalah kepada kami.
Dan janganlah membawa kami ke dalam percobaan,
tetapi lepaskanlah kami dari yang jahat.
[Karena Engkaulah yang empunya kuasa dan kemuliaan
untuk selama-lamanya.]
Amin.
“In a world darkened by ethnic conflicts that tear nations apart, Canada stands as a model of how people of different cultures can live and work together in peace, prosperity, and mutual respect.”
― Bill Clinton
I would also add that the unique thing about Canadians is that our pride in our birth country (Canada) and our pride in the country of our parent’s birth are not mutually exclusive. The multiculturalism that exists in Canada makes her such a rich and colourful nation ― “rich” in the sense of bountiful, full-bodied, well-rounded.
To my family, friends and Canadian readers: Happy Canada Day! Bonne Fête du Canada!
Image via blog.canadatips.com
“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
As a child, I used to love those quiet summer days when I’d lie down on the grass and gaze up at the sky, marveling at its perfection. I’d close my eyes and feel the sun’s warmth on my skin, and listen to the gentle rustling of leaves from the large oak tree nearby. I would lie there for hours, as midday became late afternoon. Sometimes the weather would shift, surprising me, bringing with it a new set of sensory delights. Mesmerized by the different cotton ball shapes, I’d track the movement of the clouds as the warm summer breeze caressed my face and I waited in anticipation for what was sure to come next: the sun shower. I’d laugh out loud as the raindrops tickled my skin, and stick my tongue out to taste the drops. Before I could count the minutes, the shower stopped, leaving behind the fresh smell of rain. Then it was time for me to go inside for tea time with my mother. I’d jump up, shake the grass off, and — with the hint of a smile on my lips — I’d leave my peaceful afternoon reverie behind. There would be more summer days like that. Plenty more.
Although those sweet childhood days have long since gone, I still enjoy summer days like that. In youth, we take much for granted — not at all concerned about the passage of Time. As we age, we become acutely aware of how precious each and every moment is. We are grateful for each and every sense that we are blessed with. It becomes more important for us to look (and really see) the beauty all around us, to listen to (and truly hear) the sounds that make us smile, to breathe in and smell that first summer rain, to taste and savour a freshly picked apple, and to touch the hand of a loved one (like it was the first and may possibly be the last time).
To live life as if Today is all we have, is to savour and love each and every minute.
Don’t put it off until tomorrow.
MAYA ANGELOU
April 4, 1928 – March 28, 2014
R.I.P.
Another inspirational woman has left us too soon. At 86, Maya Angelou was just as vibrant and brilliant as ever.
A writer, poet, singer, dancer, activist – she was so gifted.
Her eyes were luminous, expressive and wise.
But, her voice… my goodness, what a voice.
I will leave you with one of her most beautiful poems, Still I Rise – her words resonate with me deeply. You can read along, as you listen to her recite the words…. in her own voice (see the video below).
Still I Rise (by Maya Angelou)
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
heatherfromthegrove 