Even if you don't read anything else from my post, I'll leave you with a great quote for the day: “When I was fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have him around. When I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.” -Mark Twain.
This is taken from a blog I periodically read. Its more of a promotion blog for his companies, but the guy makes a lot of sense at the same time. If you have traveled to less fortunate places, you realize just how good we have it here, and you realize that we take things for granted. Take things for granted does not even begin to describe what we do.
I know most of you can't read more than 4 sentences at a time, but maybe someone will read this and take something away from it
When I was in junior high I wrote the story below.
My teacher called me in the hallway after she read it.
She thought I "missed the point" and she didn't believe it, at least the first part.
I had to keep telling her it was true, and when she finally - kinda - believed me -
Oh, the look on her face...
... I still remember it...
... eyes popped open...
... yet a bizarre squint at the same time...
I was in the principal's office at lunch -
They didn't believe me at first either.
Finally after talking to my parents, a few cousins and with my brother (who was part of it) -
They knew I was telling the truth.
After that
I had to see a "counselor"
For an evaluation...
.... then "trauma therapy" or something.
Oh - I also won a partial scholarship from this - although I never used it unfortunately.
All from this one story.
I'm going to tell it to you now for a very different reason than when I wrote about this years ago, and yes I honestly believe this is along the lines of the biggest secret about the "Economy", about "tough times" and all the other trivial (and even non existent) stuff that people keep bellyaching about... still!
Yes - the BIGGEST secret...
... to why my stuff won't work in your "area/business/industry" or "for you"...
... to the crooks who "stole everybody's money"...
... to the unemployment "debacle"...
... to the immigration "problem"...
... to all the economic "woes"...
... to why times are "tough"...
... to the housing "crisis -
This is it right here...
My childhood was a little different
I should re-emphasize that before I tell you what I wrote about...
... I grew up in parts of the world that most people only hear about on the news - when they blow up.
Even though I was born in the States (Miami, actually) we went back and forth constantly, depending on our family's financial situation, I know you probably already know that but sometimes people forget...
Alright so me and my brother were shopping -
And we weren't in a mall
It is different "there", more like sandy streets with makeshift booths and wild animals.
Basically, picture Alladin - without Robin Williams.
The crowds were shoving and moving about, shoulder-to-shoulder as far as the eye could see. It was hot - it was always hot - and my brother and I were holding hands tightly as we made our way past camels, soldiers and beggars.
I saw a young boy, my age -
With a ghostly face
I must have eaten as much that day as he did all month.
It looked like invisible weights were dragging the skin on his face down, and I could see the bottom of his eyeballs - the actual eye balls - his mouth was half open as he looked around at the different carts of food and drinks that were being sold.
He was just a few feet from me but all I had seen was his upper torso, in a momentary gap of passing bodies I got a glimpse of his legs. He was wearing nothing; no pants, no shoes.
Finally, he saw me
He scanned my body the way I did his, un-alarmed, he continued walking and searching.
There was something about him that caught my eye - I still don't know what it was - and it wasn't because he was half naked, that's normal...
... I still don't know why I watched him...
My brother pulled my arm and nodded his head to our right, I looked over and saw another child squatting (this one was totally naked) and going to the bathroom (a "number two") as he was cooking insects in a pan. We both looked at each other with same thought -
"That could've been us."
As we were looking at each other I got sprayed in the face with a shot of blood.
A cow was being slaughtered a few feet from us.
Right there, in the "street", spraying hundreds of people with intestines, brain matter and skin.
Nobody seemed to mind.
I turned to find the young boy I'd been watching.
I spotted him
But he was different - in a hurry, nervous... hiding something.
I knew there was something about him so I pushed through and kept my eye on him.
After a dozen or so steps he got yanked by the collar, so hard that his hand flung out from under his shirt. Food and cigarettes dropped on the ground.
He had been caught stealing.
Within seconds a debate broke out. About a dozen "shoppers" who had seen this got involved - nobody else noticed/cared.
The topic of debate?
What to do with the young thief.
Some are making the logical argument of his age, social class, poverty -
Others unemotionally appealed for "no exceptions".
The strange part about all of this is that everybody seemed to know what was coming -
Except us
The man who grabbed the boy, dragged him to a table - pushing aside the handful of protesters.
He reached to grab the boy's arm, at that exact moment the kid went crazy. Like us, he wasn't sure what was going to happen until that very second.
Screaming for somebody to intervene, his free hand and both his feet kicked uncontrollably. His voice was cracking. He wanted out.
It wasn't happening.
The best way I know of to describe this is how somebody would react if their arm were caught under a slow moving bulldozer.
To calm the child down the man slapped his face. Hard.
Then he grabbed his wrist -
He twisted it so the boy was facing the ground, then he slammed back of the kid's hand on the table.
That was the first time I knew what was about to happen.
My brother and I officially entered the debate.
We offered to pay, to pay double, triple - we screamed with the others for the man to stop. He pulled out a knife-sword as we tried to reach him, to hold us (and a few others who were on our side of the argument) back the pro-punishers gathered and pushed us back from the table.
The shoving and screaming continued.
Time was running out
I got on my knees and shuffled so I could see the boy's face.
His eyes were squeezed together like a vault, he hardly took a breath between his screaming - I could actually see the back of his throat throbbing - tears shot off his face - he kept shaking his body trying to get loose.
He was under a bulldozer.
Fever pitch
The shouting, the pushing, the crying - even the indifference of the passing people -
Was climaxing, I didn't think there was anything we could do.
The man's hand raised as he got ready to chop down on the wrist. I looked at the boy's face one last time, and for some inexplicable reason, he was calm.
Almost as a calm as the first time I saw him.
He knew what was coming, in fact - there was no more "coming" because this was it, it was happening that very second - how could he possibly be calmer now than before?
He was motionless.
The blade slammed down in what felt like slow motion...
... my mouth opened more with each dropping second...
... my eyes narrowed...
... my stomach flexed...
The blade landed.
The boy yelped in pain, but he also had a smile.
The man looked at the wooden table where his knife landed... with a surprised reaction.
A few of the boy's defenders peered to see, and then they too smiled...
... I found out why the boy was calm.
He had been watching the shadow of the man and at the last moment he gave one final jerk and moved his arm forward, causing the blade to miss his entire wrist so instead of cutting off his whole hand - he got "lucky" and only had two fingers cut off.
Was it over?
The boy yanked and yanked and the man reluctantly let go - after being strongly encouraged to... even by his previous supporters.
The boy looked at the man, who pulled his knife out of the wood and flung the detached finger fragments off the table and into the sand. He gave the boy a look as to say "I'll get you next time."
It was over.
Some of the people who had gathered bought the boy the food he had taken.
He had wanted the cigarettes so that he could sell them, and the food was for him and his family. So this was the first time I got to see exactly what food he was trying to take; what food was worth cutting somebody's hand off.
So what was it that the boy was willing to risk his life over?
Snacks.
Airline snacks.
Peanuts, mainly.
Even without all of his fingers, the boy was ecstatic about the peanuts. He tore a piece of his shirt off and wrapped his hand AFTER and WHILE he started eating.
I have never seen anybody enjoy airplane peanuts so much, even while strangers came and helped him with his hand, he kept eating. He didn't even go back and look for his fingers.
He was just happy with the peanuts.
I never look at peanuts the same again.
Exactly one week later
We were leaving, coming back to the States.
As we boarded the plane we were put in the special "class" (they don't call it that here) because we were Americans. So we got to stay in a lobby with an A.C. (air conditioner, which you probably won't truly appreciate until you walk miles through 100+ degree desert weather) - it also had a food bar and servants.
My brother and I -
Went wandering around - as if we hadn't seen enough the week before -
And we sat down next to a well dressed man on his way to America, just like us. He was used to stopping in Saudi and the Middle East on his way to and fro. While my brother and I sat talking to each other, the other traveler signaled for a waiter.
He asked for...
You guessed it -
Peanuts
Actually instead of asking for them he took the ones from the tray that was brought to him.
He opened a bag ate a few, and with a disgusted look on his face he spit them back into the bag and threw the peanuts in the trash.
We didn't say a word - we just looked at each other.
Strange how life works out, isn't it.
He went on -
And complained about the service, the weather, the people, the delays, but most of all - what he had the biggest problem with at that time - was the food, specifically... the peanuts.
In fact, he took the rest of the bags from the tray the waiter had and threw them away because they weren't "good to eat" or "fit" for anybody.
That day I got a taste of what dumpster diving was, because we went back and got the peanuts out... and ate them, even though I'm allergic to them.
Here's my point?
Everyday - yes, every single day - people all over the world are fighting, willing to give their lives for a single kernel (literally a peanut) of America... and what do we - the people who have been given more than any other group of people on the planet have EVER been given - what do we do with the opportunity and resources?
How do we react?
By complaining that it isn't enough...
... that things are "broken" and "somebody" needs to fix them "now"...
... by victimizing ourselves because what "they" did "wasn't fair"...
... by moping about the "economy" and a lack of opportunity...
... by maintaining that things are "tough" right now...
... by wondering what "happened to our money"...
Are you fu**ing serious?
I've talked about this in the past, and whenever I do I hear from knuckleheads who just don't get it - so I'm going to respond categorically to a lot of the nonsense right here in this letter.
I should also say that I get a lot of great feedback too, and I guess my goal would be to adjust - even slightly - the view of certain situations by adding at least some perspective.
And we get emails, calls, faxes - everyday about this, so from now I'm just going to refer people to this page.
Not-so ironically, they won't read it - because it is "too long", they're "different" or they "already knew that" -
Yeah, if only...
I'm not complaining by the way -
Mark Twain said that we should be grateful of others' ignorance, because without them it would be much harder to be a genius... something like that.
So it makes things much easier for the rest of us when the "victims" are in the dark - and voluntarily keep themselves imprisoned there.
Who do I mean by the rest of us?
I'll get to that in a second...
Let's talk about "tough times"
If you've never left America, you've never seen tough times -
You've never seen a "bad market".
You've never been to a "bad neighborhood".
You didn't grow up with "humble beginnings".
You've never seen a real ghetto...
... you think drive-bys and drug dealers are bad? Try fly-bys and mercenaries.
And you sure as hell aren't a "victim" either, you were born with more than most people will ever have.
How "bad" are things... really?
Nobody's going to kill you if you make too much money or have too many kids.
You aren't going to starve to death - quite the opposite since we are just about the fattest group of people to ever walk the Earth.
There isn't a group of armed government-hired mercenaries combing the streets with orders to shoot you if worship the "wrong" God.
No matter how much money/income you've "lost", it wasn't taken from you by physical force just because of the way you look.
You weren't forced out of your home only to have another family move in because they were "purer" than you
MAKE NO MISTAKE -
that is the "real world"
More people on the planet are starving than aren't.
We are the fattest, most well-fed (obese even) people ever - with the highest concentration of wealth and power that mankind has ever seen. We are born with what generations have fought to believe in, died to protect and dared to dream about.
It is all given to us... at birth.
We're the people the world looks to for inspiration - for hope - to be a beacon of light as an example of what is possible - of what humans are capable of...
