Daddy may I borrow $25

Those heartwarming stories that circulate on the internet can be quite inspiring.  From time to time I have shared some of them here, although I always wish I could give credit to the writer.  Here is another author unknown tale:

A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year-old son waiting for him at the door.
SON: ‘Daddy, may I ask you a question?’
DAD: ‘Yeah sure, what it is?’ replied the man.
SON: ‘Daddy, how much do you make an hour?’
DAD: ‘That’s none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?’ the man said angrily.
SON: ‘I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?’
DAD: ‘If you must know, I make $50 an hour.’
SON: ‘Oh,’ the little boy replied, with his head down.
SON: ‘Daddy, may I please borrow $25?’

The father was furious, ‘If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish.  I don’t work hard everyday for such childish frivolities.’  The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.

The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy’s questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money?

After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down , and started to think:  Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $25 and he really didn’t ask for money very often.  The man went to the door of the little boy’s room and opened the door.

‘Are you asleep, son?’ He asked.

‘No daddy, I’m awake,’ replied the boy.

‘I’ve been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier,’ said the man. ‘It’s been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you.  Here’s the $25 you asked for.’

The little boy sat straight up, smiling. ‘Oh, thank you daddy!’ he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills.  The man saw that the boy already had money, started to get angry again.  The little boy slowly counted out his money, and then looked up at his father.

‘Why do you want more money if you already have some?’ the father grumbled.

‘Because I didn’t have enough, but now I do,’ the little boy replied.  ‘Daddy, I have $50 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?  Please come home early tomorrow.  I would like to have dinner with you.’

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little son, and he begged for his forgiveness.

Let us learn from this story and one of the lessons should be the importance of our children, of all our family and our friends!

How many

Hearing this same question several times in reference to the lgbtq community, I just HAVE to say something. In reference to same sex marriage, I heard it asked "Why should we be concerned about such a small group of the population?" This month I have heard two different people saw the same thing about our transgender sisters and brothers. Just yesterday, I heard someone on television ask why bathroom accommodations should be made when there are so few people involved. I can recall back in the early days of AIDS there was concern about the blood supply, and it was said that too few people were involved to make testing of the blood worthwhile.

How many does it take? When will we stop discriminating. Justification of our various prejudices has often been linked to numbers. If a race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religion or any other group is in the minority, some folks think that is reason to discriminate. What about abused animals?  Are tons of dogs, cats, horses, or other animals mistreated in your community? It isn't the number that we should be concerned about, because any abuse, yes ANY, is too much.   "Not many of them, so they don't count."

WRONG!

Everyone counts. Everyone is important. I'm sorry if I seem to keep getting up on my soapbox, but I have to say this. In fact, I want to scream it from the rooftops! All lives matter. Everyone should be able to live a full and rich life without fear or intimidation. Everyone. It doesn't matter how many. Now let me be clear. I'm not saying that any action is okay. We aren't talking about what folks do, but rather who folks are. Discrimination based on identity is wrong.

The Rucksack

Here is another of those stories I have stumbled across. This one brought tears to my eyes, so I just HAD to share it. The author is unknown.

I locked the classroom door. The metal click echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
I turned to the twenty-five high school seniors staring at me. They were the Class of 2026. They were supposed to be the “Zoomers,” the digital natives, the generation that had everything figured out.
But from where I stood, looking at their faces illuminated by the blue light of hidden phones, they just looked tired.
“Put the phones away,” I said. My voice was quiet, but they heard it. “Turn them off. Not silent. Off.”
There was a grumble, a collective shifting of bodies in plastic chairs, but they did it.
For thirty years, I have taught History in this gritty, working-class town in Pennsylvania. I’ve watched the factories close. I’ve watched the opioids creep in like a fog. I’ve watched the arguments at home turn into wars on the news.
On my desk sat an old, olive-green military rucksack. It belonged to my father. It smells like old canvas and gasoline. It’s stained. It’s ugly.
For the first month of school, the students ignored it. They thought it was just “Mr. Miller’s junk.”
They didn’t know it was the heaviest thing in the entire building.
This year’s class was brittle. That’s the only word for it. You had the football players who walked with a swagger that looked practiced. You had the theater kids who were too loud, trying to drown out the silence. You had the quiet ones who wore hoodies in September, trying to disappear into the drywall.
The air in the room was thick. Not with hate, but with exhaustion. They were eighteen years old, and they were already done.
“I’m not teaching the Constitution today,” I said, dragging the heavy rucksack to the center of the room. I dropped it on a stool. Thud.
The sound made a girl in the front row flinch.
“We are going to do something different,” I said. “I’m passing out plain white index cards.”
I walked the rows, placing a card on each desk.
“I have three rules. If you break them, you leave.”
I held up a finger. “Rule one: Do not write your name. This is anonymous. Completely.”
“Rule two: Total honesty. No jokes. No memes.”
“Rule three: Write down the heaviest thing you are carrying.”
A hand went up. It was Marcus, the defensive captain of the football team. A giant of a kid, usually cracking jokes. He looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘carrying’? Like, books?”
I leaned back against the whiteboard. “No, Marcus. I mean the thing that keeps you awake at 3:00 AM. The secret you are terrified to say out loud because you think people will judge you. The fear. The pressure. The weight on your chest.”
I looked them in the eyes. “We call this ‘The Rucksack.’ What goes in the bag, stays in the bag.”
The room went tomb-silent. The air conditioning hummed.
For five minutes, nobody moved. They looked at each other, waiting for the first person to crack.
Then, a girl in the back—Sarah, straight-A student, perfect hair—picked up her pen. She wrote furiously.
Then another. Then another.
Marcus, the football player, stared at the blank white card for a long time. His jaw was tight. He looked angry. Then, he hunched over, shielding his paper with his massive arm, and wrote three words.
When they were done, they walked up, one by one. They folded their cards and dropped them into the open mouth of the rucksack. It was like a religious ritual. A silent confession.
I zipped the bag shut. The sound was sharp.
“This,” I said, resting my hand on the faded canvas. “This is this room. You look at each other and you see jerseys, or makeup, or grades. But this bag? This is who you actually are.”
I took a deep breath. My own heart was hammering. It always does.
“I am going to read these out loud,” I said. “And your job—your only job—is to listen. No laughing. No whispering. No glancing at your neighbor to guess who wrote it. We just hold the weight. Together.”
I opened the bag. I reached in and pulled the first card.
I unfolded it. The handwriting was jagged.
“My dad lost his job at the plant six months ago. He puts on a suit every morning and leaves so the neighbors don’t know. He sits in his car at the park all day. I know he’s crying. I’m scared we’re going to lose the house.”
The room felt colder. I pulled the next one.
“I carry Narcan in my backpack. Not for me. For my mom. I found her blue on the bathroom floor last Tuesday. I saved her life, and then I came to school and took a Math test. I’m so tired.”
I paused. I looked up. Nobody was looking at their phones. Nobody was sleeping. They were staring at the bag.
I pulled another.
“I check the exits every time I walk into a movie theater or a grocery store. I map out where I would hide if a shooter came in. I’m eighteen and I plan my own death every day.”
Another.
“My parents hate each other because of politics. They scream at the TV every night. My dad says people who vote for the ‘other side’ are evil. He doesn’t know that I agree with the ‘other side.’ I feel like a spy in my own kitchen.”
Another.
“I have 10,000 followers on TikTok. I post videos of my perfect life. Last night, I sat in the shower with the water running so my little brother wouldn’t hear me sobbing. I am more lonely than I have ever been.”
I kept reading. For twenty minutes, the truth poured out of that green bag.
“I’m gay. My grandfather is a pastor. He told me last Sunday that ‘those people’ are broken. I love him, but I think he hates me, and he doesn’t even know it’s me.”
“We pretend the WiFi is down, but I know Mom couldn’t pay the bill again. I eat the free lunch at school because there’s nothing in the fridge.”
“I don’t want to go to college. I want to be a mechanic. But my parents have a bumper sticker on their car that says ‘Proud College Parent.’ I feel like I’m already a disappointment.”
And finally, the last one. The one that made the air leave the room.
“I don’t want to be here anymore. The noise is too loud. The pressure is too heavy. I’m just waiting for a sign to stay.”
I folded the card slowly. I placed it gently back in the bag.
I looked up.
Marcus, the tough linebacker, had his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t hiding it.
Sarah, the girl with the perfect grades, was reaching across the aisle, holding the hand of a boy who wore black eyeliner and usually sat alone. He was gripping her hand like a lifeline.
The barriers were gone. The cliques were dissolved.
They weren’t Jocks, or Nerds, or Liberals, or Conservatives. They were just kids. Kids walking through a storm without an umbrella.
“So,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “That is what we carry.”
I zipped the bag. The sound was final.
“I’m hanging this back on the wall. It stays here. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore. Not in here. In this room, we are a team.”
The bell rang. Usually, it triggers a stampede.
Today, nobody moved.
Slowly, quietly, they began to pack up their things. And then, something happened that I will never forget.
As Marcus walked past the stool, he didn’t just walk by. He stopped. He reached out and patted the rucksack, two gentle thumps. I got you.
Then the next student. She rested her palm on the strap for a second.
Then the boy who wrote about the Narcan. He touched the metal buckle.
Every single student touched that bag on the way out. They were acknowledging the weight. They were saying, I see you.
I have taught American History for three decades. I have lectured on the Civil War, the Great Depression, and the Civil Rights Movement. But that hour was the most important lesson I have ever taught.
We live in a country obsessed with winning. With looking strong. With the “highlight reel” we post on social media. We are terrified of our own cracks.
And our kids? They are paying the price. They are drowning in silence, right next to each other.
That evening, I received an email. The subject line was blank.
“Mr. Miller. My son came home today and hugged me. He hasn’t hugged me since he was twelve. He told me about the bag. He said he felt ‘real’ for the first time in high school. He told me he was struggling. We are going to get help. Thank you.”
The green rucksack is still on my wall. It looks like garbage to anyone who walks in. But to us, it’s a monument.
Listen to me.
Look around you today. The woman ahead of you in the checkout line buying generic cereal. The teenager with the headphones on the bus. The man shouting about politics on Facebook.
They are all carrying a rucksack you cannot see. It is packed with fear, with financial worry, with loneliness, with trauma.
Be kind. Be curious. Stop judging the surface and remember the weight underneath.
Don’t be afraid to ask the people you love: “What are you carrying today?”
You might just save a life.

The author is unknown as I said at te beginning and I have no idea if this is even true, but it sure is a powerful story!

The day of the Challenger tragedy

Seven lives were lost on this date in 1986 when the space shuttle Challenger exploded shortly after takeoff. I will never forget that morning and the terrible sadness. The crew of seven were Francis Scobee, Michael Smith, Ellison Onizuka, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Gregory Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe.  They all perished.

All eyes were on televisions screens that day.  The story was tod over and over.  We watched in disbelief.  We also watched in great sorrow.  Ronald Reagan was President of the United States at the time, and regardless of your political leanings or what you think of the Reagan Presidency, I think you will agree with his actions that day.  Quite simply he did what a President should do.  He was presidential.

The State of the Union Address was schedued for that night, but instead of that, we heard another speech. It was televised from the White House. Reagan described the tragedy "On the day of the disaster, our nation held a vigil by our television sets. In one cruel moment, our exhilaration turned to horror; we waited and watched and tried to make sense of what we had seen."

President Regan's speech was only four minute long, but it was soothing, comforting, and just what America needed. Quoting from the poem High Flight by John Gillespie Magee Jr Regan closed saying "We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and 'slipped the surly bonds of earth' to 'touch the face of God.'"

Never again - NEVER!

Today is International Holocaust Memorial Day, we honor and remember the six million Jewish Holocaust victims and survivors, and the millions of other victims of Nazism . We listen and learn so we may educate future generations, and we say never again to ensure atrocities of the past – including all acts of genocide – are never repeated.

"Never again," we say, and yet we let horrible hateful things happen still to this day.  I don't mean for one moment to minimize the Holocaust by talking about modern day hate crimes.  My point is that we get angry and say we are going to do something but then don't.  The best way to honor the victims of the horrible systematic, government-sponsored persecution and murder of human beings, is to remember them and to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again.

Were there any warning signs of what was to come before the start of mass killing in 1941? Indeed there were. The biggest warning both then and now, was the abundance of hate. The killings did not come first. It began with hate. It started with denial of basic human rights. It began with attacks on truth and on the rule of law.  What about now?  Do you see any hate in the world?  In our country?  In your community?  Now in 2024, I am saddened by the many examples of hate all around the world.

Take some time today to really remember the horror that was the Holocaust.  Think of the victims.  Light a candle.  Above all, work to stop the hate.  When we say never again, we have to make it so!

Death where is thy sting?

"Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it," was the advice of W. Somerset Maugham. I disagree. In the Christian tradition, and that of many other religions, death is actually a joyful occasion, even though it certainly stings. 

Many people that I know have recently died. Too many.  All of them happen to have been Christians, and several of them very actively involved in church life. They were convinced that life was not ending, just changing. Yes, it is very sad when someone we love won't be around to interact with us. I'm not saying it isn't, or that it is unchristian, but Jesus Himself wept at the grave of his friend. The celebration of a person's life is the happier and more joyful way to approach this. Of course, in these days of COVID-19 it seems like we are being cheated out of being with those we love in their final days and unable to do traditional celebrations of their lives.

T. S. Eliot said, "I had seen birth and death but had thought they were different." Are they different though? When someone is born to their earthly life we always rejoice, and it is said that we should do they same, when they are born to eternal life. What is there about a loved one that made you love them? What moments did you share that were special?

Saint Paul said "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" That might not be the most reassuring thing he ever wrote, but in his letter to the Romans, he gives us a blessed assurance that takes away all of our fears when our mortal life is over. "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Remember those who are no longer with us. Rejoice in having known them. Hold your fond memories and even share them with others. Look to the day when you too will be born to eternal life and you will be reunited with family and friends, and be thankful.

At the hospital

Some of you are aware that I volunteer at a local hospital where I live, and I was thinking of that when I got up this morning.  Occasionally I've shared stories here that are not my own, and this is one of those. This has been floating around on the internet, and I have no idea who wrote it, but please read on for a moving tale.
 

"Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for endless hours.

"They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, and where they had been on vacation.

 

"Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

 

"The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

 

"One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

 

"Days and weeks passed.

 

"One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

 

"As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

 

"Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall!

 

"The man called the nurse and asked her what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

 

She said, 'Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.'"

Great story, huh? As I said, the author of this is unknown. You may have even read it before, but I think it is worth seeing again. I was very moved when I first read this story, and I hope it touches you as well.  Do share this with others too. That's what encouragement is all about.

Stand up for animals

Abusing an animal is one of the most horrible things I can think of. An animal cannot call the police. An animal cannot send an email. An animal cannot contact a doctor when they are injured. Animals are among the most vulnerable, and yet they are taken advantage of at an alarming rate.

Neglect and abandonment are the most common forms of companion animal abuse in the United States. According to the Humane Society of the United States, the shocking number of cruelty cases reported every day in the media is only a small part of the picture. Most cases of animal abuse are never reported, and most animal suffering goes unrecognized and unabated.

This is one of those things that CAN be solved though. This is a people problem. People can stop being cruel. Of course that is the simple answer. The bigger answer is that we all have to care and we all have to get involved and do our part. At the top of the list: do not tolerate any cruelty to animals!

Know who to contact in your area if you witness or suspect animal abuse. (Your police department is always a good place to start). Teach children how to treat animals and to respect them as living creatures too. The earlier the better. Let kids know that it is NOT okay to abuse an animal EVER.

If you have animals of your own, take care of them. If you don't want putties or kittens, be sure to spay or neuter your animals or don't let them spend time with other animals while they are outside.

Support the local shelter or humane society and get to know the work they are involved in. Donate also, if your are able, to your local shelters, pet abuse organizations or the ASPCA.

Animal abuse and neglect can be ended if only we all just care.

You are a child of the universe

Last night I kept hearing the words of this poem in my mind, and so I decided to write about it today - The Desiderata. Early in 1972, Les Crane's spoken-word recording of this poem (a poem with a very confused history, but I won't go into that), peaked at #8 on the Billboard chart. I can still remember listening to it over and over back when I lived in Nashville. As you all know though, this is NOT about me.

The words are quite inspirational. "As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons." Who can argue with that? "If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself." Certainly, this is another good thought. The poem is full of them! The words - the ideas - the list of things to be desired (the actual translation of desiderata) here are so uplifting!

My favorite part of the poem, is a section that was used as a refrain in the recording: "You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

Happy birthday Toan!

I used to write a lot here about Toan Lam, so what else could I possibly write about the creator of Go Inspire Go?  Well for one thing, today is his natal anniversary so it is appropriate to send our best wishes.  Also, has a lot of inspiring content on the internet.

Now this blog is not supposed to be about me (and yes that is me with Toan in the picture), but I will hastily point out that although we have met and do keep in touch, I seldom see him - he's a pretty busy guy, and he also is exactly what we do write about here - he is someone who is making a difference!

 

Go to http://goinspirego.com/ to find out more about them, if you don't already know.  Send them some inspiring stories or videos too.  You can even donate to help sponsor their coverage of wonderful inspiring people.  This is Toan Lam's idea.  This is Toan Lam's creation.  He continues to make it happen every day.  I urge you to click on the links there and watch some of the videos.  You will indeed be inspired!

 

I mentioned knowing Toan, and want to point out that I have seen firsthand that he is an inspiring person, not just when he is telling a story for Go Inspire Go, but wherever he is and whatever he is doing.  His tweets and facebook posts make you smile and help your spirit soar.  The encouraging and uplifting presence of Toan Lam is contagious too.  Check out his website regularly and you will be moved to a new level of goodness.

 

So, thanks for all those wonderful moments of inspiration Toan, and Happy Birthday!

what is the color of happiness?

First of all, tell me, are you happy?  Is there something special that makes you happy?  Don't take a lot of time.  There might be several things or perhaps you are just a happy person.  Now, close your eyes for a moment and think of that happiness.  Does a color emerge?  Red?  Pink?  Blue?  What is the color of happiness?

 

Now you may think that I have lost my mind, but there is a point I want to make.  Science might say that there is indeed a happy color.  I say happiness is EVERY color, because happiness is EVERYwhere!  Yeah, we all have bad days and it's certainly normal to feel down sometimes, but even when things are bad, there can be happiness.  Broke but have a family to cook for?  Well happiness can come from knowing how to prepare a wonderful meal for just pennies.  

Have you ever seen a homeless man with a big grin and wondered what he could possibly be happy about?  There are so many reasons to be happy.  So very many.

 

Am I blue?  That usually means depressed.  So blue is a bad color?  No way!  I say they are all good.  Look around you and see all the beauty.  Smile at the abundance of colors.  Be happy.

The purpose of life

What is the purpose of life? Have you ever heard that question asked?  Why are we here?  How should we act?  Should we be ruthless and dishonest and claw our way past others to get the biggest piece of the pie?  What are we expected to do during our lifetime?

You probably already know my answer to the above questions.   I think we are all here to each make a difference for the better. We all should contribute to the common good, but that's just my opinion. 

It would seem that the great essayist, lecturer, and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson agreed. It was he who said “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

What do YOU think is the purpose of life?

MLK Day

Today is the day we remember the great leader, Dr Martin Luther King, Jr and all the lessons he taught us. Born on January 15, 1929, in Atlanta, GA Dr King would be 95 today, had he not been shot and killed back in 1968. Just four days after his death, Representative John Conyers introduced a motion to make King’s birthday a federal holiday, but it wasn’t until 1979 that the House of Representatives voted on the motion. It failed to pass by five votes.

In 1983, Congressmen Jack Kemp, Newt Gingrich, Jim Wright and Tip O’Neill gave speeches in support of the holiday, and it passed in the House by 53 votes. Senator Jesse Helms adamantly opposed the bill and accused King of being a communist.   It passed in the Senate anyway, but by just twelve votes.  The bill made its way to President Ronald Reagan’s desk and he signed it into law in November 1983.

 

Martin Luther King Jr. Day was first celebrated in 1986, although it would be over a decade before all fifty states adopted the holiday. In the years since its adoption into law, the holiday has been marked every third Monday of January. In many parts of the country, it isn't just a day off from work or school, but a day to give back and make a difference. There are marches and rallies and speeches. 

How will YOU observe this day? What are your plans to honor the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr.? MLK Day has always been about service and this year shouldn't be any different.  Your participation does make a difference.

Who do you say that I am?

Today many churches remember the Confession of Saint Peter (because it is a Sunday, it is also transferred by many to tomorrow).  Jesus had asked Peter, "Who do you say that I am?"  Good old Saint Peter who wasn't always the most articulate of the followers, got this one right without any trouble at all.  "You are the Christ," was his reply.

 

Now this must have been pretty important stuff because this encounter isn't just casually mentioned by one writer.  In fact, the story appears in three of the four gospels.  Jesus knew who he was of course, but did others know?  That was important to him.  It may seem odd but stop and think about it.  Don't YOU want to be known?  I don't mean just your name.  That wasn't the issue here.  You want people to know the real you, just like Jesus wanted Peter and the others to know him.

 

How sad it is when some of us hide who we are because we fear we might be rejected.  Some hide their true identity for other reasons, but whatever makes someone do it, the result is destructive.  We all have a basic need to be seen and known - not necessarily accepted.  Yes, acceptance is certainly a good thing, but being fully known is more important.  What you want someone to accept you as they thought you are, but not as you really are?

 

Think about it.  If you have friends or family who are hiding part of themselves, perhaps you can help them be more comfortable about who they really are.

Baby it's cold outside

It's winter.  It's cold. Here in Arizona where I live, it's been down in the 30s every night this week, and we even had a bit of snow already. Now is a good time to remember your farm animals or pets and to especially remember the homeless who are outside all the time.

Nice clean warm socks, sturdy shoes, and warm blankets to cover yourself, and of course a good sturdy overcoat are all so very helpful to those in need. A Texas organization called Project Warm Us can use donations and volunteers. Find out more at http://www.projectwarm.us/ A Nashville based organization called Soles4Souls distributes shoes to needy people and, I'm told is also now distributing coats. Their website is https://soles4souls.org/ There are churches and other organizations in communities across the country that do collections and give these things to the needy. Check around where you live, and if you don't find anything, consider beginning a program of your own. The thanks you get back will warm your hearts!

When I lived in San Francisco, we had an annual memorial for people who died outside on the street. Many of those died because of the cold. Most of those deaths could have been prevented. Let's step up and do something.

changes

If you are reading this blog for the very first time, it isn't one that shares details of my world travels or my cooking adventures or my musical ability or even my athletic abilities.  In fact, as the name indicates, this blog is NOT about me.  It is about all of us doing something powerful - making a difference.  People talk about changing the world and you know what?  We ALL have the power!  We ALL can give back.

Changes don't have to be huge ones.  Changes don't have to involves a lot of people.  Changes don't have to cost a lot of money.  The change we are talking about is making things better for ourselves and for those who come after us.  We see a need and we fill it.  This is OUR world - we should all want to make it better!

Over the years I have highlighted ideas, organizations, and individuals that have helped make things better.  I don't have all of the answers of course and from time to time I have asked for your suggestions.  This morning, I am asking again.  Do you know of an individual or organization that is doing great things?  Do you have some ideas of how to make life better for us all?  I'd really love to hear from you!

Let it shine

Everywhere I look, there is something that makes me happy. Yes, even now.   What about you? Do you see happiness in the most simple things? I look out the window at the sunrise and think of Barry Manilow's uptempo pop song from back in the mid-70s. Before you know it, I'm singing.

I'm singin' to the world,
it's time we let the spirit come in
Let it come on in

Those peppy lyrics, which Manilow wrote with Adrienne Anderson, are enough to get you bouncing, even if there isn't a gorgeous sun rising on your horizon. Put them both together though and it will keep shining all day long! Why frown first thing in the morning anyway? Start the day happy and you can stay that way all day long!

Yes, and it's daybreak
If you want to believe, it can be daybreak
Ain't no time to grieve
Said it's daybreak, if you'll only believe
And let it shine, shine, shine
All around the world

Let's keep believing! Let's keep letting it shine!


words from Daybreak by Barry Manilow and Adrienne Anderson © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

A Zen Folktale

I didn't write this one.  (Gosh!  I've quoted several "author unknown" tales here over the years).  This is a good story though, so I hope you'll read on.

A huge, rough samurai once went to see a little monk, hoping to acquire the secrets of the universe.

"Monk," he said, in a voice accustomed to instant obedience. "Teach me about heaven and hell."

The little monk looked up at the mighty warrior in silence. Then, after a moment, he said to the samurai with utter disdain, "Teach YOU about heaven and hell? I couldn't teach you about anything. You're dirty. You smell. Your blade is rusty. you're a disgrace, an embarrassment to the samurai class. Get out of my sight at once. I can't stand you!"

The samurai was furious. He began to shake all over from the anger that raced through him. A red flush spread over his face; he was speechless with rage. Quickly, menacingly, he pulled out his sword and raised it above his head, preparing to slay the monk.

"That's hell." said the little monk quietly.

The samurai was overwhelmed. Stunned. The compassion and surrender of this little man who had offered his life to give this teaching about hell! He slowly lowered his sword, filled with gratitude, and for reasons he could not explain his heart became suddenly peaceful.

"And that's heaven," said the monk softly.

The Sandwich

The janitor at my office building left a sandwich on my desk every Friday for six months. When I finally stayed late to thank him, I found out it wasn't meant for me.
I work late most Fridays.
Marketing manager at a mid-size software company.
End-of-week reports. Client emails. The usual.
By 7 PM, the office is usually empty.
Just me and the cleaning crew.
Six months ago, I started finding sandwiches on my desk.
Every Friday night.
Around 7:30 PM.
Always the same.
Turkey and swiss on wheat bread. Wrapped in plastic wrap. Sitting on a paper towel.
No note. No explanation.
The first time it happened, I thought someone left their dinner behind.
I threw it away.
The next Friday, another sandwich.
Same thing.
I asked around the office.
"Anyone leaving sandwiches on my desk?"
Blank stares.
"Maybe it's the cleaning crew," someone suggested.
I figured it was a mistake.
Maybe the janitor thought I was someone else.
But it kept happening.
Every single Friday for six months.
I started eating them.
They were good. Fresh. Clearly homemade.
Not fancy. Just solid sandwiches.
I felt weird about it, but I was always hungry by 7:30, and it seemed wasteful to throw away perfectly good food.
I tried to catch whoever was leaving them.
But by the time I looked up from my computer, the sandwich would just be there.
Like magic.
Last Friday, I decided to figure it out.
I pretended to leave at 6 PM.
Said goodnight to the security guard.
Walked to my car.
Then snuck back in through the side entrance and hid in the conference room across from my office.
Lights off. Door cracked.
At 7:28 PM, I heard the cleaning cart.
Wheels squeaking down the hallway.
A man came into view.
Miguel. One of the janitors.
Maybe fifty-five. Always wore the same navy blue uniform.
We'd nodded at each other a few times but never really talked.
He pushed his cart past my office.
Kept going.
Stopped at the office three doors down.
Sarah's office.
Sarah was our senior accountant.
She'd been out on medical leave for four months.
Cancer treatment.
Her office had been empty since August.
Miguel unlocked her door.
Went inside.
I waited.
A minute later, he came out.
Empty-handed.
He locked the door and continued down the hallway with his cart.
I walked over to Sarah's office.
Looked through the window.
There was a sandwich on her desk.
Turkey and swiss on wheat bread.
Wrapped in plastic wrap.
Sitting on a paper towel.
My stomach dropped.
He wasn't leaving sandwiches for me.
He was leaving them for Sarah.
Who hadn't been here in four months.
I went back to my office.
The sandwich that was always on my desk wasn't there tonight.
Because I wasn't supposed to get it.
Sarah was.
I sat there for a minute.
Then I walked back to find Miguel.
He was emptying trash cans in the breakroom.
"Miguel?" I said.
He looked up.
"Yes, sir?"
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
He looked nervous.
Like he thought he was in trouble.
"I'm not here to complain," I said quickly. "I just... I need to ask you something."
He nodded.
"The sandwiches. The ones you've been leaving on Sarah's desk."
His face changed.
"You know about those?"
"They've been ending up on my desk. I think because the cleaning crew moves stuff around sometimes. Or maybe someone thought they were for me."
He looked confused.
"I put them on her desk. In her office."
"I know. But somehow they've been ending up on mine. And I've been eating them."
I felt like an idiot saying it out loud.
Miguel was quiet.
"I didn't know," he said.
"I know. That's not your fault. I just... why were you leaving sandwiches for Sarah?"
He hesitated.
"She was always here late," he said. "Working past 8, 9 PM sometimes. She never ate dinner. Just coffee."
"Okay."
"One night I was cleaning her office and she was crying. I asked if she was okay. She said she was fine. Just stressed."
He paused.
"I started bringing an extra sandwich from home on Fridays. Left it on her desk. I thought maybe if she had food, she wouldn't have to work so late on an empty stomach."
"Did she know it was you?"
He shook his head.
"I never told her. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable."
"And you've been doing this for six months?"
"Since before she got sick. Then when she stopped coming to work, I kept doing it anyway."
"Why?"
He looked down at his cleaning cart.
"Because I didn't know what else to do. I knew she was sick. I wanted to help. But I don't know her. I just clean her office."
His voice got quieter.
"The sandwich was the only thing I knew how to give."
I stood there.
This man had been making an extra sandwich every Friday for six months.
Leaving it in an empty office.
For someone who wasn't there.
Someone who would never eat it.
"Miguel, Sarah's been getting treatment out of state. She's not coming back to the office."
"I know," he said.
"Then why do you keep leaving the sandwiches?"
He looked at me.
"Because when she comes back, she should know someone was thinking about her."
I felt my throat tighten.
"What if she doesn't come back?"
"Then at least I tried."
We stood there in the empty breakroom.
The fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
"I'm sorry I ate your sandwiches," I said.
"It's okay. I'm glad someone did."
I went home that night and couldn't stop thinking about it.
About Miguel making sandwiches for someone who wasn't there.
About Sarah fighting cancer three states away.
About all those Friday nights I'd eaten food meant for someone else.
The next Monday, I called Sarah.
I'd gotten her number from HR for a work question months ago.
She answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey Sarah, it's David from the office."
"Oh, hi. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. I just... I wanted to check on you. See how you're doing."
"I'm okay. Treatment is hard but I'm managing."
"That's good. That's really good."
Pause.
"Sarah, do you remember getting sandwiches on your desk? On Friday nights?"
Silence.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I remember."
"Did you know who was leaving them?"
"No. I always wondered. I thought maybe it was someone from accounting. Or maybe my boss."
"It was Miguel. The janitor."
"Miguel?"
"He noticed you working late and not eating. So he started bringing you sandwiches. He's been leaving them on your desk every Friday. Even after you left."
She didn't say anything.
I could hear her crying.
"Sarah?"
"I'm here. I just... I didn't know."
"He said when you come back, you should know someone was thinking about you."
She cried harder.
We talked for a few more minutes.
When we hung up, I sat at my desk staring at nothing.
Two weeks later, Sarah came back to the office.
Not to work. Just to visit.
She was thin. Wearing a wig. But smiling.
She asked where Miguel was.
Security called him up from the basement.
He came up in his uniform, looking confused.
Sarah was waiting in the lobby.
When he saw her, he stopped.
"Miss Sarah?"
"Hi Miguel."
She walked over to him.
"I heard you've been leaving sandwiches on my desk."
He looked embarrassed.
"I didn't mean to bother you."
"You didn't bother me. You saved me."
She hugged him.
He just stood there, arms at his sides, not knowing what to do.
"Thank you," she said. "For seeing me. For caring. For not forgetting."
"I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.
She pulled back.
"I'm not okay yet. But I'm getting there."
She handed him an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Just open it."
Inside was a card.
And five hundred dollars in cash.
"I can't take this," Miguel said.
"Yes you can. You fed me for months. Let me return the favor."
"But—"
"Please."
He took it.
Held it carefully like it might break.
Sarah went back to treatment the next day.
Miguel kept working.
And every Friday, there was still a sandwich.
But now it was on my desk.
With a note.
"For helping Sarah. - Miguel"
I tried to tell him he didn't need to do that.
He just smiled and said, "Everyone should eat on Fridays."
Sarah came back to work full-time three months later.
In remission.
The first thing she did was bring Miguel a sandwich.
Turkey and swiss.
On wheat bread.
They ate lunch together in the breakroom.
And now every Friday, the three of us eat sandwiches together.
Sarah brings hers.
Miguel brings his.
I buy mine from the deli downstairs.
We don't talk about work.
We just eat.
Three people who probably never would've known each other.
Brought together by sandwiches left in an empty office.
By a janitor who didn't know what else to do.
Except show up.
And make an extra sandwich.
Because sometimes that's all you can do.
You can't cure cancer.
You can't fix someone's problems.
But you can make them a sandwich.
And leave it where they'll find it.
And hope they know it means: I see you.
I care.
You're not alone.
Miguel taught me that.
With turkey and swiss on wheat bread.
Every Friday for six months.
For someone who wasn't even there.

If you read my blog on a regular basis, you know I have occasionally shared stories from others. This is another one of those. I have no idea who wrote it or if it is even true, but it feels good and that is what this is all about.

Just a cashier

If someone says "she is just a cashier," that's insulting.  (I used to hear "just a secretary" a lot, but the term "assistant" now usually takes the place of secretary).  Every single honest endeavor is important and there is no "just" about it.  Some folks try to make themselves more important but putting others down, but that is just plain wrong.

Lately I have noticed the cashiers in supermarkets and drugstores becoming the victims of this sort of bashing.  It doesn't stop there either.  Often customers treat these service employees so badly that you would think manners had been thrown out the window.

Consider this:  the cashier generally counts your change into your hand, but how many of you hand that cash payment directly to him or her?  All too often the money is just tossed on the counter often with many coins included.  The transaction would be so much faster (and more courtesy would be shown toward the cashier) it that same money had been placed in the cashier's hand.

If the cashier smiles at you and says hello, don't assume they have some hidden motive.  Perhaps they are just being polite.  Oh and when the cashier asks if you want a bag, it is because we are trying to save the earth and not use bags as much as we did.  Instead of immediately placing every purchase in a bag, it is hoped that many customers will bring their own reusable bag or will simply carry their purchase in their hands.

Cashiers are people doing a job.  Treat them in the same manner you would like them to treat you.

unwelcome

One of the most wonderful things we can experience is the feeling of belonging - the feeling that we are truly welcome.  The first day at a new school or a new job or a visit to a church you have never been to before or even a family reunion where most of the relatives are distant ones that you don't know, all have something in common.  You can feel alone and uncomfortable, like you don't belong there.  

There are many other situations where you can experience the same feeling.  It isn't nice at all.  In the midst of this pandemic there are so many places where we are not welcome in the usual sense, but does that mean we are not welcome at all?  Churches will sometimes say they are "welcoming," but are they really?  Do they make you feel comfortable?  Do people say hello and introduce themselves and make any kind of effort to make you feel welcome?

 

Did you ever go to a bar or restaurant where it seemed that everyone was a regular and that you were the odd one?  The employees were super friendly to all of them, but hardly even acknowledged that you were there.  Does that make you want to come back?  Of course not!  It is an easy thing to change though.  Making people feel welcome just involves caring and showing it.  Smile.  Be friendly.  Introduce yourself.  Make the visitor or the newcomer feel that they belong there.

One o the issues with hate is people get the idea that a certain neighborhood or bar or even a certain church, is theirs.  We have our own little group here and everyone else should stay away!  Is that healthy?  How might they feel if encounter this sort of unwelcoming atmosphere?

 

We all make a difference in the lives of others when we show them a friendly and welcoming attitude.  We all have the ability to get rid of that unwelcoming mat.

 

food for everyone

Seeing folks drop canned goods in the many collection barrels during November and December always warms my heart.  What about now though?  There are actually places that have year-round collections and how wonderful is that? The need certainly doesn't only exist at the end of the year.  We hear about canned food drives around Thanksgiving and Christmas, but the need seems to always be there.

 

It would be wonderful if nobody ever had to go a day hungry.  There are obvious health issues if you don't eat regularly, and your over-all personal feeling is certainly affected by the food you consume.  Think about how that delicious Thanksgiving dinner made you feel last week, or that nice crisp bacon you enjoyed before leaving the house this morning.  

 

While those collection barrels at your local stores and churches and organizations are certainly helpful, they are not enough.  This rich country of ours needs to do more to address the issue.  There needs to be food for everyone and there needs to be ways for this to happen.  Government assistance is part of it and there are a number of wonderful organizations out there stepping up.  One such organization is called No Kid Hungry, and I urge you to take a look at their website at http://www.nokidhungry.org/ and check out Feeding America at http://www.feedingamerica.org too.

 

There is a lot more we can talk about and there is something each of us can do.  That can in the barrel is certainly a good beginning.  We are not going to solve the hunger problem in the United States today, but at least we can make a start.

No man is an island

For some reason, when I awoke this morning, I could hear Joan Baez in my mind singing

♫No man is an island,
No man stands alone,
Each man's joy is joy to me,
Each man's grief is my own.

We need one another,
So I will defend,
Each man as my brother,
Each man as my friend.♫

The message of course is a timeless one.  We need each other.  Simple, huh? 

In the Book of Ecclesiastes it says "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe unto him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."

How many of us feel alone though? Is it the fault of the others in our world, or could we be doing something differently?  There have always been folks who live alone and can't easily get out to be with others.

There is a story of a little boy who is having a tough time trying to lift a very heavy rock. His dad comes along and seeing him trying, and failing, to lift the rock, asks him, “Are you using all of your strength?” The little boy looks at him rather impatiently, and says, “of course I am!” “No, you are not,” replies the father, “I am right here waiting, and you haven’t asked me to help you.”

Yes, it is wonderful to reach out to others.  It is wonderful to do things that will benefit those around us.  That's pretty much what we talk about here every single day.  That is one of the big lessons of this past year too.  It is important to note though that when someone does not reach out to us, it is okay for us to ask. 

In his letter to the Philippians, Saint Paul says "Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others."  How can I help you, AND how can you help me?  We are not alone.  We need each other.

If our strength were to be measured not by what we can do alone but by what we can do together, how would the world change? How might those changes reflect in our idea of caring and of being cared for?

In times of personal crisis

One of the most rewarding things I do is volunteer at a local hospital.  I know this blog is NOT about me, but I simply must share how good the volunteer experience is.  I see men and women from their teen years up into their senior years (there was actually a woman in her mid 90s volunteering until recently) doing all sorts of tasks around the hospital.

 

Occasionally I have encountered visitors or patients crying in the hospital hallways.  The other day I saw a familiar face, a lady I have run into several times.  The very first time I saw her she asked for a hug.  Now she tells people I'm a good hugger.  This time she had tears.  Her husband is nearing the end of his life.  I listened.  I wish I could have done more.  Sometimes just quietly listening is helpful.  I saw her again a few hours later.  She was smiling,  Her husband was going home that day and the doctor had referred them to a hospice program.  I listened to her news and then we hugged again.

 

There are happy moments, like when someone is healed from injury or when a new baby is born, but all too often I meet people in times of personal crisis.  I try to help as best I can, but there are times when I don't think I have done enough.  We have a small gift shop that is staffed by volunteers.  Information is given to visitors at the front desk and at other locations by volunteers.  The other day a doctor stopped me in a hall just to say thanks.  He told me he is grateful for volunteers and all the things we do.  It's true that we do many tasks all around the hospital, but I really like being in the hallways, whether transporting a patient to be discharged, hearing a compliment from a physician, or giving a hug to a worried wife.

 

Hospitals can be difficult places, but I will keep volunteering.  I think volunteers make a difference.  It's not just what we give.  We also get such a good feeling back!

Inspired by Kennedy

When I was young, Robert Francis Kennedy was the junior US Senator from New York State, where I was growing up.  I remember him saying “There are those that look at things the way they are, and ask why? I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?” Those words had a profound impact on me.

Robert Kennedy's life was cut short by a bullet, but he had already gotten my attention.  I don't know how many lives he touched; we never know such things.  I do know that ever since I have been trying to not only get involved and make a difference in the world, but to motivate others to participate too.  I really believe that it was Senator Kennedy who inspired me.

We may not all be inspired by a Kennedy, but we all can give back to this world of ours.  It isn't important that we give in a certain way - the important thing is that we just do it!

No place for hate

There really should be no place for hate. Seriously. I prefer writing about positive things. How can we change the world? Let's do some random acts of kindness! Let's change for the better. That's what I like to write about. I really don't like saying that this is bad or that is bad, but yesterday I just had to speak out. It is so much more uplifting to say what is good and to talk about that. Love is good.

There really is a lot more to be said too, and I hope that some of you will add your own comments.  I really fail to understand why there is so much hate in the world and with it so much fighting and so much crime. How many people have been injured or even killed because of hate?  Does hate come about because we are all different from one another?  That would seem to be more of a reason to celebrate.  We should rejoice in those differences rather than fight over them

 

It seems to go through cycles.  Right now people are hating Asians in larger numbers.  Last year it seems to have been Blacks.  Neither one is new.  Oh and don't forget the hate of transgender people, Jews, Mexicans, the gay and lesbian community, and pretty much anyone who isn't just like the person doing the hating.  I don't get it.  I'm sure I never will.  It simply makes no sense at all.

 

As a youngster I remember when President Lyndon Johnson worked so hard on civil rights and I remember all of the racially negative things I heard.  It may seem hard to believe, but in some parts of this country, it's almost like we haven't changed at all since then.  I still hear people slinging pejorative terms at those who may be different from them.

 

There should be no place for hate in our society.  We shouldn't put up with it.  We have the power.  We can make it end.

get out of that rut

Has your routine become boring and your daily existence rather humdrum?  Well, get out of that rut!  If you have been sheltering in place these past several months, it is easy to get bored.  Things can be changed!  You don't have to be a constantly turning hamster wheel, but it is up to YOU to do something about it.  First, know that things can change!

Sometimes you have to spice things up - do things a little differently.  Make good use of all your resources.  Set attainable goals.  You don't have to change every single thing you do, but some change can be quite stimulating and get the whole positive energy flowing.  Sometimes you just have to get out of your comfort zone, or at least know what your comfort zone is.

Regrets? Not always a good thing. Regret can bring our mood down and toss us into dead-end thinking where we can actually get stuck. Turn that regret around. What if I had done something differently?  Well then, actually DO IT differently!

There is no quick answer to getting out of a rut.  Things will be different for each person.  Know too that you might need help and don't hesitate to get it.  There is no shame at all in seeking help.  If addiction or depression is contributing to this rut, do indeed get someone to help you with it.  Just know that things CAN change.

let's choose

Some things are more difficult to speak about than others. Some of us are in positions where we don't have to say anything at all. There are those though who always do the right thing - those who stand up and speak out and make a difference. We can choose to be one of those people. We can choose to be like Jason Chu.

Remarkable just doesn't get to what I want to say. I can't think of any word that does. I have mentioned Jason Chu here a couple of times before and I have found myself listening to his words over and over. Remarkable though. He speaks truth.

He doesn't just speak.  He performs.  He's an artist.  You really should watch his YouTube videos.  Subscribe HERE.  In one video, he talks about Freddie Gray and about Baltimore and about privilege.  In that one, THEY WON'T SHOOT ME (I am not #FreddieGray), Jason says what we all should be saying - if indeed we speak. 

Perhaps the most profound thing Jason says this time, is at the very end "Privilege means I get to choose.  So, I choose."  Let's all make that choice!

I found something better

Maybe it was because I last night heard Aretha Franklin's signature hit "Respect" or maybe it was a scene I was recalling from the 1966 comedy film The Trouble with Angels, but something suggested I write this today.

 

First the scene from the movie.  An all girls school run by nuns is the scene and the Mother Superior is talking to one of the students about her own youth when she was a seamstress and had dreams of becoming a designer.  The student asks why she gave it up, and after a reflective pause, Reverend Mother says "I found something better."

 

Picture if you will, a high school boy asking a girl out on a date.  He asks just any girl because he wants to be sure of a yes answer, but all the while he is hoping for a yes from a more popular girl, whom he eventually asks.  Having gotten that yes from the girl he really wanted to go out with, he drops the first girl like a hot potato.  He found something (actually someone in this case) that he felt was better.

 

Now these are different situations to be sure, but the point I am trying to make is that we sometimes make changes for the better, but we don't always play fairly.  The girl in the second example certainly didn't get a good deal.  How about when you are choosing teams for basketball and the poor player always gets chosen last? 

 

Recently an organization sent out invitations to a number of people asking for someone to come and speak at an event.  They really didn't want just any of them though.  The first person who said yes was thanked and told when and where the event was and she was expecting to be the speaker - that's what they had told her.  A few days later the organization received a late response from one of the others that they had invited.  The late responder was a bigger name and so they dumped the first in favor of this new person.  Were they playing fair?

 

Think about these situations.  When, if at all, is a good time to go with something better?

This could be the start of something big

It's the beginning of the year - the very first month. January begins with a major holiday and then has another, Martin Luther King's Birthday, tucked neatly in the middle, but this month is often looked at as the cold, boring, and grey "after-holiday" month. Does it have to be boring? Of course not! This could be the start of something big!

January could be the month that you decide to do new things.  For those who make (and keep) resolutions, it might already be the beginning of something really important.  Now I am not a big fan of resolutions because they seem to set us up for failure and only a very small percentage are kept, but if they work for you, and clearly there are some people in the small group, then go for it!  For everyone else, there are still many things that can make this an exciting month.

Since it tends to be colder this month, why not try out some new ways to eat oatmeal, it is after all National Oatmeal Month. It's also National Soup Month and the possibilities there are endless. I just made a nice pot of potato soup yesterday!

What else are we observing? Well, it's National Egg month, Bread Machine Baking Month, Dried Plum Breakfast Month, National Book Month, Fat-Free Living Month, International Coffee Gourmet Month, and National Diet Month. It's also National Eye Health Care, National Fiber Focus Month, National Hobby Month, National Hot Tea Month, National Volunteer Blood Donor Month, National Retail Bakers Month, and National Mail Order Gardening Month. Does this give you any ideas?