Pure Thoughts

All entries in the ‘Stories’ Category

It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas-oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it-overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma-the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented
a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he
swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.”

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by: Sandra Chereb

For decades, Jay Thiessens hid a painful secret as he built his machine and tool company from a mom-and-pop operation into a $5 million-a-year enterprise. During the day he hid behind the role of a harried businessman, too busy to review contracts or shuffle through mail. At night, his wife, Bonnie, would help him sort through the paperwork at the kitchen table, in the living room, or sometimes sitting up in bed.

Other tasks he delegated to a core group of managers at B&J Machine Tool Co. who had no idea their boss couldn’t read.

“I worked for him for seven years and I had no clue,” said Jack Sala, now the engineering manager for Truckee Precision, a B&J competitor. “I was his general manager. He would bring legal stuff to me and say, ‘You’re better at legalese than me.’ I never knew I was the only one reading them.”

Few people knew of his shame and most burning desire: To be able to read a simple bedtime story to his grandchildren. But he couldn’t keep his illiteracy secret forever. “It became too hard to continue to hide it,” said Thiessens, who has begun to read at the age of 56. “Since I made the decision to let everybody know, it’s a big relief.”

On Wednesday, Thiessens will be honored in Washington, D.C., as one of six national winners of the 1999 National Blue Chip Enterprise Initiative Award. Sponsored by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and MassMutual, the award recognizes small businesses that have triumphed over adversity.

Thiessens’ torment took root when he was in the first or second grade in McGill, a small mining town in central Nevada. “A teacher called me stupid because I had trouble reading,” he said. All through school, he was the quiet little boy in the back of the room.

“I think the teachers just got tired of looking at me so they passed me on,” he said. He graduated from White Pine High School in Ely 1963, getting mostly C’s, D’s and F’s. He made the honor roll once, in his senior

year when he landed A’s in auto mechanics and machine shop.

The day after graduation, Thiessens moved to Reno, where 10 years later he started a small machine shop with his last $200. Today, B&J specializes in welding, machine parts and precision sheet metal work. With 50 employees, the company conducts $5 million a year in business and just broke ground on

a new 54,000 square-foot expansion.

Despite his success, the stigma of being labeled a dummy haunted him through adulthood. He compensated by being a good listener. He rarely forgets details and has a solid grasp of math and figures, a trait essential to the industry, others say.

“The majority of everything we do is technical,” said Randy Arnett of A&B Precision, B&J’s longest competitor. “It has more to do with math, geometrical shapes, than verbiage.”

“He’s always been a decent competitor,” Arnett said of Thiessens.

Two years ago, Thiessens was invited to join a local chapter of The Executive Committee, a kind of CEO-support group where non-competing chief executives discuss business trials and tribulations in confidence.

Thiessens was reluctant. “He was concerned he wouldn’t measure up to the rest of the group,” said Randy Yost, committee chairman and former CEO of Placer Bank of Commerce in California. “About 6 months after we met, he told me he had a reading problem,” Yost said. “At that time, he was very tight-vested about it.”

Thiessens confessed to the rest of the group last year.

“He was a little teary. His voice was shaking,” recalled Doug Damon, a group member and CEO of Damon Industries, a beverage concentrate manufacturer. “It was clearly a difficult thing for him to do.” Damon was surprised by Thiessens confession. “I knew he was a high school graduate, and so I guess I automatically assumed he knew how to read. He’d been very successful in his business. Who would have thought?”

Thiessens feared titters and jeers from his college-educated CEO peers. Instead, he was overwhelmed by support. “As much as I respected him for what he accomplished, it enhanced my respect for him,” Yost said.

Last October, Thiessens found a tutor to instruct him for an hour a day, five days a week. That’s also when he told his plant managers. The rest of his employees found out last month.

Thiessens recently read “Gung Ho,” a book on employee relations, as a management team project. It was slow going as he underlined all the words he didn’t know and later sought help with. But he finished it. He wants someday to be able to rifle through mail as quickly as his wife and “round file” the piles of junk mail that comes across his desk.

More importantly, he hopes his story will encourage others to learn to read.

“There is no shame in not knowing how to read,” said Mrs. Thiessens, his wife of 37 years. “The shame is not doing anything about it.”

Technorati Tags: Success

And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more. – Erica Jong 1942

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A Taoist story tells of an old man who accidentally fell into the river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall. Onlookers feared for his life. Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls. People asked him how he managed to survive. “I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me. Without thinking, I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging into the swirl, I came out with the swirl. This is how I survived.”

Technorati Tags: Going with the Flow

by W.A.Simmons

I’ll not let you beat me, there’s nothing you can do.
No force could be imposed on me, that would see me succomb to you.
No obstacle you throw at me, will block my path for long.
I’ll simply find another way, my desires are far to strong.
No winds could blow me hard enough, to drive me off my course.
Your’s could never hope to match, that of my driving force.
Nor waves or raging torrents, you might muster, will ever sweep.
From this path I’ve chosen, or all it is I seek.
So to you, I welcome your challenges, each one you may throw.
They only serve to strenghten me and with everyone, I’ll grow.

Technorati Tags: Never Surrender

A master calligrapher was writing some characters onto a piece of paper. One of his especially perceptive students was watching him. When the calligrapher was finished, he asked for the student’s opinion – who immediately told him that it wasn’t any good. The master tried again, but the student criticized the work again. Over and over, the calligrapher carefully redrew the same characters, and each time the student rejected it. Finally, when the student had turned his attention away to something else and wasn’t watching, the master seized the opportunity to quickly dash off the characters. “There! How’s that?,” he asked the student. The student turned to look. “THAT…. is a masterpiece!” he exclaimed.

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Thanks to Jeannine Haslett for sharing this

After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park , forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno’s damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he gently struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother’s wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. Then the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast…because she had been willing to die, so those under the cover of her wings would live. ‘He will cover you with His feathers, And under His wings you will find refuge.’ (Psalm 91:4) Being loved this much should make a difference in your life. Remember the One who loves you, and then be different because of it. Time waits for no one. Treasure every moment you have. You will treasure it even more when you can share it with someone Special.

Technorati Tags: God, Life, Love

By Alice

My nephew’s 10 year old son came for a visit one hot, July weekend. I was enticing him to stay inside by joining him in a nintendo game. After being mercilessly defeated by a more experienced player, I suggested that we relax awhile. I collapsed into my favorite recliner to let my neck muscles relax and my ego recover from such a beating. He had slipped out of the room and I was catching a few relished moments of peace and quiet.

“Look, Alice,” he said enthusiastically as he ran over to the chair where I was recovering.
“I found a kite. Could we go outside and fly it?”
Glancing out a nearby window, I noticed there was not a breeze stirring. “I’m sorry, Tripper,” I said, sad to see his disappointed eyes, but thankful for the respite from more activity. “The wind is not blowing today. The kite won’t fly.”
The determined 10 year old replied. “I think it’s windy enough. I can get it to fly,” he answered, as he hurried out the back door.

I peeked through the slats in the venetian blinds to watch determination in action. Up and down the yard he ran, pulling the kite attached to a small length of string. The plastic kite, proudly displaying a picture of Batman, remained about shoulder level. He ran back and forth, as hard as his ten year old legs would carry him, looking back hopefully at the kite trailing behind. After about ten minutes of unsuccessful determination, he came back in.

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Technorati Tags: Waiting for the Wind

A martial arts student went to his teacher and said earnestly, “I am devoted to studying your martial system. How long will it take me to master it.” The teacher’s reply was casual, “Ten years.” Impatiently, the student answered, “But I want to master it faster than that. I will work very hard. I will practice everyday, ten or more hours a day if I have to. How long will it take then?” The teacher thought for a moment, “20 years.”

Technorati Tags: Work, Working Very Hard

by: Jennifer Tovell

The asphalt walkway was a beautiful thing to roller skate on, with its little hills and valleys that you could almost effortlessly glide on, ever so smoothly.

I frequented the housing complex with my metal skates clipped on over the toes of my shoes and the leather strap buckled around my ankles. What a beautiful feeling, to glide along in the sun, feeling the summer breeze in my hair. It made me feel like I hadn’t a care in the world.

This one afternoon, I took my time there enjoying the warm afternoon with no reason to hurry home for supper. I knew there’d be no “real” dinner waiting. These last few days were the leanest my family had ever seen since my father left.

My mother was great at making something-out-of-practically-nothing taste really good, but even the practically-nothings seemed to be just about gone.

But as a kid, you don’t worry too much about things like that. My sister and I would make grape jelly sandwiches (if there was any bread and jelly, and peanut butter was usually just a wish) but there was always a book to read to take my mind off of my growling tummy. I especially liked to read Dr. Seuss. But this day, I knew, would be a long one, with lots tummy-growling, lots of reading.

As the sun began to settle, resting after blazing long in the summer sky, I turned to go home. There may not have been food there, but it was my home and my family was there, and a book.

I skated back on the smooth, winding asphalt walkway making my way home. As the light in the sky grew dimmer, I could almost feel the night entering my soul.

I crossed the street and headed for our doorway. We lived in a small, second floor apartment next to Sam’s Fish Market. My mom used to go in there and ask if she could buy food “on credit”, with a promise to pay him as soon as she got some money. Sam was usually kind enough to allow it, seeing she had a large family, how could he turn her away? But she couldn’t go in there these days. No, the bill was getting just a little too high and my mother was a proud woman.

I turned toward our stoop and the big glass door that loomed just past it when I noticed there was something on the step.

Someone must have left something here, I thought. I wonder if they’re coming back?

Then, as though a light switch was thrown on in my head, it registered just what it was. Two large, two very large, brown, grocery bags, just brimming with food!

There was long, crusty bread hanging over the top of one of them, and when I peeked inside I could see spaghetti and rice and cans of vegetables and sauce and, and, cookies! Animal crackers they were, to be precise. My favorite!

I think my heart just leaped to the sky with happiness as I realized that maybe, just maybe, this food was left for us. But who would have left it here? It didn’t matter. Mom will be so happy!

I tore off my skates and grabbed one of the bags and ran upstairs just as fast as I could, making sure not to let anything spill out.

“Mom, Mom!” I cried, as I ran huffing and puffing up the stairs. I was so out of breath from the excitement that I could barely answer her question of where the food came from as I practically crash-landed the bag on the kitchen table.

“Mom, Mom!” I cried. “You’re not going to believe this, but there’s another bag! There’s another bag! I don’t know who forgot it on our step, but can we keep them?”

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Technorati Tags: Inspiring Stories