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On April 6, 1968, two uniformed Marines came to my parent’s front door to deliver the news of his death in Vietnam. On April 14, 2013, 45 years and 8 days later, a Sacramento police officer came to my front door to tell me my nephew, Christopher James Bartish, had been killed the night before on a motorcycle. Chris was also a Marine.
This morning as my husband scuffed off in his slippers to the kitchen saying, “I have to put some toast in my tummy” he sounded so like a little boy. I immediately thought of all the times my mom made toast for me—either Raisin Tea Loaf, or Cinnamon Toast, or one of my all time favorites, Brown Sugar Toast. The slices were always cut in strips for me, so I could put toast in my tummy in tiny slivers that would last much longer and allow me to savor each bite. She’d bring the toast to me on one of the little TV trays my Dad made. They were put together with two hardwoods, walnut and maple, and had the prettiest mosaic pattern. She usually brought my toast with a side of bacon or my favorite “mushy eggs” which were hard boiled eggs mashed in a bowl with gobs of butter. Oftentimes, I’d eat my toast with Captain Kangaroo or Sailor Bob or I Love Lucy, sitting in my big chair with the little tray across my lap feeling oh so special.
Whenever I tell my husband that I intend to do something big, perhaps something that will cost a bit of money, he always comes back with the same question: HOW will you do that? It does tend to get frustrating after a while because, honestly, the HOW doesn’t matter. It’s the WHY that makes things happen. John DeMartini said, “When your why is big enough, the how will take care of itself.”
From afar, he looked like an ordinary boy of seven or eight, poking holes in a cone of yellow corn with a stick. But as he went on down the sidewalk, I crossed the street toward the spot where he’d been standing. It was then I noticed the stick was a white-tipped cane.
A friend of mine called me this morning to ask if I’d like her to share what she learned in a recent class on money. I was intriqued. The information she shared was very thought provoking and—after six pages of notes—I have a lot to ponder. One of the most powerful observations was how people react when they see money on the ground. You’ve no doubt picked up a penny. Well, maybe not. The shift in my thinking was this: I’ve always picked up change and, on occasion, bills, when fortunate enough to find them. But when I did so, I always felt as if I was needy and that I snatched these up out of lack. Maybe, I even felt a little embarassed. However today, I realized this isn’t the case at all! Money is coming to me for a reason; I am attracting it. Bev told me about an experiment she conducted in an airport. She dropped pennies on the floor then sat back to see who’d pick them up. 99% of the people just walked on by, not noticing them or not caring at all. Until one very graceful and well-dressed woman glided by and effortlessly picked up the shining coins, then kept moving toward her destination. This happened twice with two different people.