I received a wonderful New Year's gift, Dr. Spencer Johnson's book The Present, 2003. He discusses three ways to use your present moments to enjoy work, love and YGL now! I want to "re-gift" it to everyone . . .

BE IN THE PRESENT
When you want to be happier and more successful -
Focus On What Is Right Now.
Respond To What Is Important Now.

LEARN FROM THE PAST
When you want to make the present better than the past -
Look At What Happened In The Past.
Learn Something Valuable From It.
Do things Differently In The Present.

PLAN FOR THE FUTURE
When you want to make the future better than the present -
See What A Wonderful Future Would Look Like.
Make Plans To Help It Happen.
Put Your Plan Into Action In The Present.

Three basic steps more precious than even the tastiest Holiday fruitcake. Happy 2006!

-Barry Biren

Tonight Stacey, Rob and I volunteered at the HUC-JIR (Hebrew Union College) Soup Kitchen on W 4th and Mercer. It was truly an amazing experience we shared. We first sorted through donated clothing that would be given out that night. And then served 100 hungry, homeless guests who walked from very far away to receive a hot meal. They were served in a lovely environment with table cloths and floral centerpieces on the tables, by the rabbinic students, a 7th grade Hebrew school class from NJ, regular weekly volunteers, and students from NYU. The food looked scrumptious and fresh and people took lots home in carryout bags to last all week, such as milk, bread, cookies and napkins. We talked to the people we served throughout the evening, and you would be surprised by the appearance of some they were homeless-- something got off track in their life, loss of a job or a family member, or perhaps no family support. They were SO appreciative and thankful that we cared and served them with dignity. I highly recommend you go any Monday between 3-6:30pm and give your time for something that will be very personally fulfilling. I was very moved when one 30-something man told me that his feet are freezing because the soles of his shoes were worn out, and unfortunately the soup kitchen did not have shoes his size. He told me how cold it is walking on the pavement when it goes straight thru to his feet. We are very fortunate, please remember to share.

- Amy Sharapan

To volunteer or for info contact Nicki Greninger at nicolemichelleg@gmail.com or visit the website.

Have you ever had queasiness in your stomach? Not the kind when you’ve eaten a certain food that has turned – but the sort of stage fright queasiness that you get as you wait in the wings for your name to be announced or to finally make your grand entrance. We all want the grand entrance. The moment - when we “own” all that we have ever wished for. Not the cars or the jewels or the money. But the love of your spouse – the love of your family – a hug from your child – peace made with an old friend. Dare I say it peace in the world. The moment when we can “see “our true potential right there in front of us waiting to be unleashed. That is, if we set it free and let it grow.

This is the feeling that has been mulling about inside me for months. While I have done the job of keeping myself busy and taking care of my family, I have not settled the unrest in my mind and body. I felt stuck. “What is your plan?” my husband would frequently ask. “This is my plan.” I’d reply – sometimes tersely and other times with a huge smile on my face. Not really knowing exactly what it was or was not that I was talking about. I felt very much that I was on a journey. If I stayed true to what I said I believed in, I would leave myself open to uncover the voice I had so often quieted. But the demons in my head would urge me to just do something, anything. Stay in motion. Don’t slow down. My head was clouded with chatter. I wanted my mind to settle down. I wanted to feel the calm – sense the peace. What was it that I had discovered on my most recent path? And where did I want it all to lead? I attempted to quiet my demons. “Do not live your life by someone else’s rules or dreams.” This became my quiet mantra.

Feel passionate. Do what you love. Believe in yourself. Knock out that guy in your head that feeds you self doubt – the one who says “You can’t do that! You are not good enough!” Take his power away. Close your eyes. And finally “see” everything as you wish it to be. Step out of your comfort zone – even if it’s only with your toe. What would be the worst case scenario? Pull it all back in. Regroup it. Look at all of it from another angle. Take your time. Enjoy the queasiness in your body. Embrace the discomfort of change. Allow it to grow. The journey is amazing! Let the doors open. Don’t block them. Ya Gotta Live! Isn’t that grand? This is life. Make it yours.

- Tracy Hatte

This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

Note: Two dear friends of YGL lost loved ones this summer - this is for them.

TEARS ARE THE PROOF OF LIFE!

How long will the pain last, a broken hearted mourner asked me.

All the rest of your life, I had to answer truthfully.

We never quite forget.  No matter how many years pass, we remember.   The loss of a loved one is like a major operation; part of us is removed, and we have a scar for the rest of our lives.

This does not mean that the pain continues at the same intensity.  There is a short while, at first, when we hardly believe it; it is rather like when we have cut our hand, we see the blood flowing, but the pain has not set in yet.  So when we are bereaved, there is a short while before the pain hits us.  But when it does, it is massive in its effect.  Grief is shattering. 

Then the wound begins to heal.  It is like going through a dark tunnel.  Occasionally, we glimpse a bit of light up ahead, then lose sight of it awhile, then see it again, and one day we merge into the light.  We are able to laugh, to care, to live.  The wound is healed, so to speak, the stitches are taken out, and we are whole again. 

But not quite.  The scar is still there, and the scar tissue too.

As the years go by, we manage.  There are things to do, people to care for, tasks that call for full attention.  But the pain is still there, not far below the surface.  We see a face that looks familiar, hear a voice that has echoes, see a photograph in someone's album, see a landscape that once we saw together, and it is though the knife were in the wound again.

But not so painfully.  And mixed with joy too.  Because remembering a happy time is not all sorrow; it brings back happiness with it.

How long will the pain last?

All the rest of your life.  But the thing to remember is that not only the pain will last, but the blessed memories as well.  Tears are proof of life.  The more love, the more tears.  If this be true, then how could we ever ask that the pain cease altogether.  For then the memory of love would go with it.  The pain of grief is the price we pay for love.

-Author Unknown

Ya Gotta Know Where You're Going
-- By Rob Hessdorf

We did not tell you this story about the end of the Tony award evening because it was too embarrassing. But we decided to divulge it and put a smile on everyone's face in keeping up with the YGL mentality. :-)

So after a long day and evening covering the awards, Bianca and I wanted to relax a little by attending one of the Tony parties.  We were told there were two: one at the Marriot Marquis Hotel and the other at the Rockefeller Center Rink Bar/Restaurant. Since it was getting late and we were pretty tired, we decided to go to the Rock Center party which was only a block away.

We made our way down the magnificent red carpet and into the rocking party. They had just about everything - bars at every corner, huge dance floor, food everywhere including a dessert room with a great big cake shaped like a piano. They also had real frozen fruit that was so fresh and good. We were in heaven!

By 1:30am the DJ was still going strong and after a couple dances we walked around to see if we could meet up with the award winners of the evening. We didn't recognize anyone, but did notice lots of kids running about. We were amazed to even see a room with games just for the children. I thought how cool it was to have a game room for the children of the folks who were attending the Bash.

We were starting to think that maybe the award winners went home, which was odd, but we didn't worry too much about it - we were too busy enjoying the food and dancing.

But as the evening grew later and we saw more and more kids we started to really wonder what was happening.  I tracked down a waitress and asked her "where were all the celebrities from the Tony Awards?" She said she did not know and did not realize Sam Schwartz knew any celebrities.

At that point I politely asked her who exactly Sam Schwartz was.

She looked right at me and said "That's who's Bar Mitzvah this is!"

We gathered our belongings and got of out of there.  I wanted to wish Sam well, but he probably would have wondered who the hell I was!

True Story!

INSIDE OUT
Behind The Scenes At The Tonys
-- By Bianca Mlotok

What a privilege to go to the Tony Awards—and even more so, as an inside reporter. What an evening. Or shall I say an all day, all evening affair. When you work as a reporter at the Tony Awards (otherwise known as the Antoinette Perry Awards) you are dressed (black tie) and ready shortly after lunch. And a reporter’s work as well as the Award festivities goes well beyond the strike of 12 midnight.

Press admission begins at 4:30. At the red carpet check in, everyone is really nice and friendly—and particularly when you have a bag of Godiva in hand. Then once you are “checked in”, the games begin. There were so many catfights—not on the red carpet, but behind the red carpet between the paparazzi. I think there was more going on “behind the scenes”, than actually on. For example, there were a few territorial photographers who were very rude, and then there was the Rastafarian who was your best friend if he wanted something from you—but if you were in his way, watch out! Bottom line: it gets pretty tense trying to secure a 5 x 5 square inch area to get the best pictures—after all, this is their job and how they make their living.

Then there were a few “slips” off the stepladders. Yes, it’s true; photographers do bring their own stepladders—even though we were standing on bleachers. There must have been over 200 photographers—who take an average of 600 pictures each, but only about 25% actually make the cut and have potential. While the Tony’s are quite a spectacle, they should make a show about what really goes on “behind the scenes”.

Once the red carpet was open to its distinguished guests, the red carpet was a treat—Billy Crystal, Diane Sawyer, Nathan Lane and Marcia Cross to name a few. Some were smiling from ear to ear, others looked like they couldn’t wait to get off the carpet—after all it was a long one! Each celebrity must have spent at least an hour walking from one end to the other with photographers and fans yelling their name. Either by first name like “Diane” or greeting them with their last, like “Ms. Sawyer”, “up high”, “to your left”. The nominees came solo (Sara Ramirez), others with their families (Kathleen Turner), and some came by teams (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels).

When you cover an event like this, you don’t attend the actual event. Rather you witness it nearby from “pressroom” which is off-site. Just before show time, around 7:30, we went to the pressroom, otherwise known as the Rainbow Room. Once you arrived at the 64 th floor--it was media central---whether you walked to the left or to the right.

Though, I must say, if you went to the right, it was the “right” way to go. There you would find The Empire Suites, which were for the television interviews, CBS, and ET to name a few. The ET suite, co sponsored with Sprint and Godiva was the best call! A four foot by two foot chocolate phone decorated the table and of course with Open Oysters, Raspberry Starfish, and truffles chocolates from Godiva to name a few. We were able to get in, but we couldn’t stay for long, but that was okay.

To the left was the “other pressroom”—which catered to the print media world. Reporters were lined up along the walls and rows of tables with white table clothes, nibbling at the saucer sized plates with goodies courtesy of Cipriani. The roast beef was rare and the asparagus was green like Emerald City. The desserts were simple, but it didn’t matter—one couldn’t help but think about the Godiva in the television suites. All around, people are running around with their note pads, cell phones, laptops and this is including the people who actually engineered this “special room” in the pressroom. Everyone was working—whether it was the reporters, the engineers, and the waiters clearing dishes.

From the 64 th floor, the sun was setting around 8:00 and the 59 th Annual Tony Awards were about to begin. There were a few last minute audio checks in the pressroom. The last one didn’t go over quite so well—so some adjusts were made. However, those adjustments affected the speakers that were hooked up to the 19-inch monitors. It was 8:03 and the show was well on its way. While we could see the monitors, we couldn’t hear what was being said between Hugh Jackman (this years MC) and Billy Crystal. Everyone was frustrated because this information was critical to their business and their reports. Not to say that they didn’t enjoy themselves, but it was work and deadlines had to be met and this was their primary concern.

With the audio cutting out—this wasn’t going to work for avid Broadway fans, so we ventured to Radio City and really witnessed this LIVE event in the flesh. Curious, we roamed about and discovered the best seats were up top—from here you can see and hear everything. From the camera man who was responsible to the aerial shots to all of the lovely gowns to the lead entertainment on Stage. Live television is fascinating. It looks so organized on TV, yet when the “commercial break” was over, people were still scurrying back to their seats.

The “commercial breaks” were entertaining for certain. Hugh Jackman would come out chat with the audience. During one break, he actually invited a woman from the “nose bleed” seats to come and sit down in the front row. He said it was like The Price is Right. [During the next commercial break, with The 25 th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee being? very popular in terms of nominations (which by the way, Dan Fogler took the Tony for Best Featured Actor in a Musical) they did a 3-minute spoof on the musical. On the monitors, they showed a Broadway Reporter questioning TKTS buyers how to spell theatrical words, such as VOMITORY. They then had to put it in a sentence like Al Sharpton did during the TONY performance of (The 25th Annual Putnam CountySpelling Bee’s) “Opening Number” and “Serenity Prayer”. By the way, a vomintory is an auditorium entrance or exit up through banked seating from below. After the Tony Awards were just about over, we went back to the pressroom. Why?

Because the pressroom is where the winners come as soon as they accepted their reward. Once they walk off stage of Radio City Music Hall—it’s off to the Rainbow Room to give their “unscripted” discussions. This is more of a question and answer—but it’s so informal, yet it’s refreshing to hear answers to questions that people often want to know. It’s very personal and intimate. Cherry Jones (Doubt) who received the honor of Best Actress in a Play gave her spin on the Church and State. Victoria Clark (A Light in the Piazza), Best Actress in a Musical brought her son up to answer some questions. Norbert Lee Butz (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels) took home the Tony for Best Actor in a Musical and shared how exhausted he was—after all he has had a long day, from doing a matinee earlier in the day, getting ready, walking the red carpet, constantly being directed as to where to go. And mind you, this was at 12:30am - an hour and a half after the show was over. So you see a very different side. For example, Spamalot, recipient of Best Musical couldn’t even have enough time to say Thank you. In fact, they barely had enough time to get to the podium. So, unlike the LIVE show, in the pressroom, there are no such rules - anything goes and for any amount of time.

It’s interesting to see things “behind the scenes”. Usually most people only see the end result and have no clue what coordination efforts go on—internally and externally, privately and publicly. This was an experience within itself. This was my first time covering the Tony’s (and actually come to think of it, covering anything for that matter) and it was GREAT BIG STUFF!

January 29, 2005 is my inspirational day when I learned the true meaning of love, respect and dignity. For that is the day that a very special man in my life, Danny Starker, my father, left this earth the way he wanted to, surrounded by his wife of 54 years and his 3 daughters who loved him tremendously.

Three weeks earlier my father had surgery for complications stemming from Diabetes. Initially he was doing great and the prognosis was optimistic. Then things took a turn for the worse and we got bad news that he would need additional surgery, which would dramatically affect his quality of life. That is when my father wrestled with the hardest decision of his life. Does he try and have a surgery, which may not be successful, just so we can be with him a short while longer; or does he die with dignity and have time to say his proper goodbyes?

In the end my father chose to go to Hospice and say his proper goodbyes. My mother, my sisters, my nieces and nephews and myself each got a special piece of advice from my dad and he told each of us how much he loved us; this from a man who although always demonstrated his love for us did it in his own quiet, non-verbal way. He then took responsibility into his own hands and signed his own "do not resuscitate" papers so we, his family, would not have that burden of such a tough decision.

As each of his 3 daughters made it to Florida from NY we sat by his side, spending his last days together. My eldest sister, who is afraid to fly, took the train from NY to be with our father. My mother, my other sister and myself kept telling my father that she was on her way, not sure if he even heard us because at that point the disease was taking over his entire body and rendering him basically unconscious. We got our answer if my father heard us the second my eldest sister arrived. We knew my father waited for her when he awoke and sat up, grabbed my sister by the face and gave her a huge kiss (as he did with all of us throughout the years) and asked her "Hey, how was your train ride from New York?". He then slowly passed away, as he wanted, surrounded by those he loved and those who loved him.

We now joke that my sister should have taken a Pony from New York because our father would have waited longer to pass away. This is when I learned dignity for oneself and the respect he had for us.

I learned the true meaning of love as I began to write his eulogy and relive different events in my father's life. No matter what hardships my father was having at the time, he made sure to be there for his family. There was nothing he wouldn't do for us; from driving hours to be with one of us during a crisis in our lives to flying in from Florida, even though he could barely walk and was in tremendous pain to help us celebrate special events in our lives to pretending to take his grandkids (my dad nicknamed each one "hotshot") on long drives to faraway places in Grandpa's limousine after a hard day's work.

We all miss and love him tremendously but the one thing he left us with is "Ya Gotta Love, Ya Gotta have Respect and Ya Gotta have Dignity". Da, we miss you and love you tremendously.

With lots of love,
Mom, Your 3 Girls and Your HotShots

Wendy Starker

THE WORLD YOU CHOOSE

If it is important enough to you, you will find a way. If it is not, you will find and excuse.

Often, difficult circumstances can challenge you, but they can not stop you.
Only you can stop you.

Others can give encouragement, can teach you and help you or they can hold you back. Only you can decide what to do with it all and what to make out of what you've been handed.

There are some roads that lead to success and others that lead to despair. The road you are on depends entirely on the road you have chosen.

Whether you see your life filled with beauty and positive possibilities, or whether you see no hope at all - Your assesment will most certainly prove to be true. So which one will You choose to see?

The world which You choose to experience and the world You choose to live in is precisely the world where You will be.

It's that simple!

YA GOTTA CHOOSE!

Barry Biren NYC

Ya Gotta Love Serendipity!

Don't you love serendipity? When fortunate events come out of nowhere to help you on your path.

I was a volunteer at Ground Zero after 9/11 for 3 months and the result of my volunteering was toxic metal poisoning. I went from being a vibrant, healthy person to being sick all the time, feeling like the living dead, and sleep-walking through a life that had become surreal. I could barely function and could not find any help. One night, 3 years later I was watching the WB11 and serendipity stepped in with a news story about the NY Detoxification Project.

The detox program was a turning point in my life, and I finally got healthy. It was like waking from a bad dream. I looked around at the shambles of my once high-functioning life and couldn't't figure out what to do. I knew I had to start over but I had lost my self-confidence and was not sure what I should do next. I needed a new plan since I couldn't't go back to the life I had before 9/11. As painful as that experience was I learned a lot, and as scared as I was I knew it was time to get back in the game of life.

I've always loved making matches and have introduced two couples who got married. Since I was good at it I decided to try my hand at singles events to help people meet. I struggled nervously through a few parties, which thankfully, ended up being very successful. I realized, if I worked hard, I could expand this into a business. For those of you who are single, you know how many single's groups are in Manhattan. What was going to make my group stand out from the others? My hook was to personally introduce people to each and to have interactive events to avoid the awkwardness of standing around wondering how to meet other people.

I had found my hook...and then by serendipity...the New York Times found me. A friend emailed me that the NY Times was doing an article about the decline of internet dating and was looking to interview people about their online dating experiences. The tagline for my parties is "Disconnect From The Internet & Reconnect With Real Live People" so I called the reporter several times and amazingly enough, he called me back. My group was a perfect fit for the article. My Chanukah present on 12/12/04 was the cover story of the Sunday Styles Section of the NY Times. My website was inundated with newly found members and I was on my way!

When events in life move along with ease and grace you realize that what you are doing is exactly what you should be doing at that moment. It's been 9 months since I started, and as well as running successful parties and events I'm moving into matchmaking and train-a-date services for those needing a little more help.

Please visit my website at http://www.RealLivePeopleParty.com. Sign up for our mailing list and come join us. Serendipity may help you find your match at one of our events.

Have a great day.

Ilana E, NYC

Ya Gotta Not Be Taken Advantage Of!

My good friends are in from Argentina this week, and all they wanted to get was the mini ipod. It's more than double the price in Argentina. The mini's are advertised all around town for $249.99. The only problem is most of the stores out of stock. Stores like Circuit City, J&R Musicworld, etc. My friends were on a time frame so they did not have the convenience to wait. So, they went to one of those midtown electronic stores located on 5th Ave. and 41st street which advertised the unit for $249.99. They called me later in the day and told me they spent almost $500.00 for the unit. The salesperson sold them long life batteries and cables for over $200.00. Both these items are included with the Mini. My friends did not know and were tremendously taken advantage of. They went back to return the extra items but the manager pointed to a sign- no returns or exchanges.

I then went to the store with them and said to the store manager in very direct terms "FIX THIS PROBLEM or we can take this a step further." He knew I was a New Yorker who was not leaving that store without a refund.
He refunded the extra money and gave us a carrying case as a gift with no questions asked. I'm sure this is not the first time you heard a story like this, but sometimes it's worth fighting for what is right!

As we were walking out of the store, I heard a man with a foreign accent say "do you carry the mini ipod?"

Rob H.
NYC

Ya Gotta Look At Yourself!

This is for all of us who are older than 35 who never quite get the relationship thing right. We typically pick a partner who disappoints or hurts us.. Or we meet someone who has it all, but they
just don't turn us on! And of course there is the long distance relationship that seems perfect. He lives in LA, she in NY. But when one wants to move to the other ones city and life gets real, all bets are off.

The typical excuses are many when they want to break up after they have been dating this person for a while... He's not smart enough, tall enough, don't like his mother, etc.. or don't like the way she eats her food, she does not like dogs, not my religion, etc..

The amazing thing is that they already knew this going in, but the panic has not set in yet. You ask these people why they are still single. The typical answer is usually "I just have not met the right person yet"

What I'm writing about here is commitment phobic folks who never question or look at their pattern of who they pick and why. If these people look at themselves and question why it does not work out, they will
certainly see a pattern. I finally did and realized I had a problem. I looked at the painful truth that I was the ultimate commitment phobic.

I really did not realize I had this until I read the book "He's Scared, She's Scared" by Steven Carter and Julia Sokol. It opened my eyes. It a must read for anyone who questions their relationships.

Here are some excerpts from the book-

" There are people who go through an entire lifetime without once experiencing-or encountering-any anxiety about commitment. But some of us, commitment issues are not always out in the open. Instead they are hidden and subtle, clothed in an assortment of disguises. For example-

- If you find that you prefer idealized fantasies to flawed human partners, then you may not realize how commitment fears are affecting your life.

- If you consistently commit yourself to inappropriate or unavailable partners, you may not always see how your conflicts are contributing to a destructive pattern.

- If you are very picky or have a pattern of faultfinding, then you may fail to take into account how much of this is caused by commitment issues.

- If you are unable to recover from a failed love relationship, then you may be unable to recognize how your own fears are contributing to your paralysis.

- If something about your attitude and life-style discourages potential partners, then you may not be aware of the barriers you have constructed against commitment.

If any of these examples sound familiar, I encourage you to buy the book. You will not be disappointed!

-Anonymous

Medical Mission to Abancay, Peru
(Ya Gotta Know!)

The hallways cast shadows since the only light available was from open windows and doorways. The lights are kept off to save money on the electricity bill. This gave the hospital a calmer feeling though, not one as frenetic as in the states when fluorescent screams overhead and half the reason you want to leave is to remove yourself from the glare.

The rooms, borrowed rooms, did not emit any personality from the regulars who staff it on a regular basis. There were no colors on the walls, or catalog bought framed pictures to distract while one waited. There were no magazines to look at, or pens to snatch. There were no plants, or matching chairs, or paper spread over the examining tables.

By the second day of a medical mission hosted by PAMS (Peruvian American Medical Society) in Abancay, Peru, it was easy to start adapting and taking advantage of what we did have inside the hospital. I learned to reuse a brown paper bag in order to transport items the entire week. I hid my mask, hat and shoe covers whenever I needed to leave the surgery floor to be sure they were available again. The one towel in gynecology was creatively folded so that we could keep using it. (There was none to cover for privacy). By the third day, I cringed at how wasteful I was the first day. I had thrown out a rubber band that had held a stack of envelopes, a used water bottle, and worst of all: we had used two gloves instead of one. The patients didn’t seem to notice any of this. Not only did the Ketchuan Indians wear their good clothes and hats to symbolize their tribe, they wore shoes in the hospital. The free medical care they were receiving today was a new experience for many of the people.

The director of the mission, Dr. Julio Sotelo, grew up in Abancay Peru and graduated from San Marcos University Medical School in Lima, Peru. He trained in Minneapolis and than at Mercy Hospital in Chicago where he met his wife, Celeste, and decided to stay in the United States of America.
They moved to Teaneck, New Jersey when he joined the faculty of Columbia University as an internist. As their family grew with four children, Julio joined PAMS to help give to a country who needs the medical help badly. PAMS is a nationwide non-profit organization that helps bring Peruvian and American doctors together to offer medical and education to towns in Peru. Several other towns include Cusco, Lima, Huanuco and Trujillo also benefit from these medical missions. All the volunteers donate their own time and services and some expenses are tax deductible. The mission is organized for two weeks, once or twice a year. Volunteers are encouraged to stay as long as possible.

Abancay, the capital of Peru, is a beautiful town 7000 feet above sea level with a population of 80,000 people. To find it, one must fly to Lima, Peru and then unto Cusco, which is famous for its location to travel to the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu. Then, a bus is hired to take the volunteers on one of the most beautiful, breathtaking, curviest, four hour rides to the town of Abancay. The drive is a windy switchback along a mountain pass that descends from the ten thousand foot altitude in Cusco. It is believed that drinking coca tea, or chewing on the bitter coca leaves, can help adjust to the altitude.

This first week, there are 19 other people who volunteered to help those less fortunate. Many of the volunteers stayed in the same hotel together and many were paired up to have a roommate. On the first night, the Mayor welcomed everyone as the high school children performed a dance of local custom. Pico sours, a tart liquor, were passed out to taste and say thanks.

Work started at 8AM the next morning. Scrubs were lent to the volunteers that didn’t have any, and anticipation of the memories that would form was imagined in the ten minute walk to the hospital. Every morning we awoke to rain cleaning the streets, and every day as we stepped outside after our breakfast, the last drop of condensation was being evaporated into the air.

The first task to accomplish was setting up a room to be used as an office and pharmacy. Everything that was donated, and that made it passed customs in Lima, was set up on portable shelves that were assembled for the occasion. Each volunteer was asked to carry one suitcase for themselves and one for the mission. Many of the oversized duffels were kept in Lima. Some were to be searched thoroughly and some to be confiscated for their own personal property. On the trip that I attended, the bags that were held back for five days contained all the dermatologic medication. Unfortunately, there were the same days that the two dermatologists were volunteering.

Not being in the medical field or being able to translate from Spanish or Ketchuan, my job became to be a run-around between all the doctors. Every half hour of so, I would freely open doors and check in with them. My scrubs gave me leeway to be able to walk anywhere in the hospital. I also realized that my blond hair and blue eyes seemed to be an enjoyment for the people waiting in the hallways on the benches. Little children either stared or reached out to touch my hair. On the days that I strapped on my camera, children who are never bashful, would start jumping into the frame and end up leading an entourage of people who wanted portraits taken. The copies I have made for them will be brought back next year since they explained that they have never received mail before to their houses.

The mission was able to teach so much too so many people. Not only did the local people receive the care that we could provide, but high school students came to help us translate, medical students and residents from both countries were able to practice medicine, and I was able to stick my nose in wherever I could.

I became an assistant to the gynecologist hoping that I would see a baby be born. Instead, I learned about prolapses, PID, IUD’s, to read sonograms, and cultural differences. Even though free birth control is offered, unmarried girls are scared for their reputations to be seen standing on line even if they need it for medical reasons. One woman lost her IUD. In America there is a small instrument called a hysteroscopy that quickly removes it. Since this instrument was not available, she needed to come back the next day in which three doctors tried to find it. It was so painful that is was decided to have her come back the following day to try under general anesthesia. If this didn’t work, a hysterectomy would need to be performed.

We used hairspray as the fixative for the pap smear slides. We sprayed, waited for them to dry, wrapped the slides into a torn off piece newsprint paper, stapled a name to them, and then sent them off to be returned three months later. And this was when the slide was available to us. After we used up the box of slides we had brought, we would receive a slide one at a time. Each day we needed to turn away about 30 patients just for gynecology because we didn’t have the time.

On the day I volunteered in pediatrics, a special education school happened to come in. I was excited to have my very own “patient” since this is my specialty as a teacher at home. When the first boy with cerebral palsy was carried in on a straw chair without wheels, my mind had to adjust fast. He was 16 years old and had never had a day of physical therapy. He was very loved by the 5 people that carried him in. His limbs were contracted into stiff positions; he only drank liquids and wore a diaper. I demonstrated some stretches and suggested a belt on the chair to hold his chest up. I tried to explain this would only make him feel slightly better but not get better. Most of all I tried to have the translator explain to them that here in Peru they did a wonderful job for him.

The word “bittersweet” played over and over in my mind because it was the simple things that I take for granted, that I would have supplied, had I realized it was special in someone else’s eyes. Pens. The stack of mismatched pens in my house. The bags of pens at Staples. I did not know they wanted pens. People, children, nurses. Pens. Just pens. Pencils made them happy too. And sheets. And toilet paper. And soap.

Bittersweet also applies to the sweet hope that we could help, to the hope that made people come, and to the bitter feeling when we just were not able to help. Sometimes the supplies weren’t available. Sometimes it was too late to apply treatment, and sometimes it was just because, here in Peru, it just wasn’t possible.

Out of the thousand people we did see the first week, at least 100 people received surgery whom never would have been able to have it otherwise. Cleft palates were repaired on babies, hernias sewn, hysterectomies performed, deadly varicose veins removed. Hundreds of other patients received their first toothbrush, vitamins, and deworming medicine. Some patients received reassurance that they were not sick. Hopefully some received motivation to study and become a doctor. I learned that little things can help in a big way. Next year I am definitely flying down with boxes of pens. And the printed pictures.

-Kim Oppenheimer, NYC

To make donations or to volunteer, please contact:
PAMSEF
c/o Ana May Salgado
6488 Tamer Lane Drive
West Bloomfield Drive
West Bloomfield, MI
48322-2379
(201) 836-1540

Ya Gotta Never Give Up!

After the first day of my softball practice, I felt very left out.

All of the other girls on my team were in Middle school and were much
more advanced than I was since I had just started for the first time.
Time passed quickly and my first game swung around the corner. That day
I discovered that my team was probably the best one in the league, with
the exception of me. I knew I had to do something about it. At first I
had thought about quitting because one of my teammates had just quit.
Instead, I decided to give it another try.

My next game didn't go so well. The best player on my undefeated
team yelled at me for striking out. When the game was over I told my
dad I wanted to quit for two reasons. One, I wasn't good and, two, Jane
(the #1 player) kept insulting me. Knowing my dad he said no, if you're
going to quit then you have to call Coach Blaire and him you're
quitting. Of course I did not want to so I hung in there and kept on
playing.

Surprisingly, game by game I got better and better and practice by
practice I learned something new. Although the best part about my
softball year was I started to fit in with my team. I remember one game
after I ran to home base, I went into the dugout and Jane told me "Great
hit! Keep it up!:. Now I really felt like I was a true, determined
player.

Game after game we won by at least 20 points. Soon the softball
season came to an end. We obviously got to the playoffs and, of course,
we won.....by a lot. After the game, my team was screaming with
excitement ( I think one of my teammates even cried). We "good-gamed"
the other team. Then Coach Blaire called us over to the dugout. I was
anxious to know who would get the annual "winning ball". We all new
this winning ball was extra special. I didn't care if I didn't get it,
but I did have a slight chance because I hadn't gotten a winning ball
yet.Coach Blaire announced who got the winning ball. It happened to be
me, everyone clapped and smiled at me. At that moment, I realized that
I did deserve the ball. I worked hard, kept trying and I became a good
player. If that wasn't enough, Coach Blaire titled me "MOST IMPROVED
PLAYER".

I am still an aggressive softball player to this day and I am still
playing and improving. I've had many softball experiences since then,
including being chosen to pitch in several games. Most importantly, I
learned never to give up when anything can be possible!

-Jessica B. (age 10)

Carpe diem

It seems like NYC has the largest amount of single people. Wherever I go I constantly hear about dating, breaking up and I wonder why cannot I just see to people happy together. So... is it impossible to find a soul mate or this is somehow a NYC Trend - TO BE SINGLE.

Although it seems like everybody wants to find the the second half... so I am thinking where is the problem. Maybe in the rush hour we simply forget about others, or maybe the constant battle about power and domination makes us forget about... LOVE. Or maybe there is a commitment issue or again some kind of NYC trend. Just think about it - it seems like there are more singles parties and events than charities fund raisers.

Everybody wants to be happy. But what does it really mean? - making somebody happy? Hmmm... First you have to start from yourself and learn how to love and enjoy the smallest things in your life. So open yourself to the world...

Sit quietly for a while, undistracted...

Take a few deep breaths...

Look around...

Pay attention...

Do you want to come back to an empty house?

- Julie N.

Sometimes we learn the biggest lessons from young children. The first time I went on a mission trip was during the summer of 2001. The missions group and I spent two months preparing for our trip to the Dominican Republic. I was expecting to go and do some good by performing skits about the gospel and helping the local people by holding medical clinics however, I came back with more than a feeling of having done some good in the world.

On our first night in Dominican Republic, we held a service-like gathering called a Campaña in a small village. To our surprise, our transportation was a bus with holes on the floor, through which we could see the ground. In the village, we saw kids who hardly had any clothes on, dogs and chickens running around on dirt, and children playing on a hill of trash. It was something that none of us had expected. I looked across the road and found something that is hard for me to believe even now-- gigantic white mansions covering a hill. I was speechless. I could not believe my eyes. I could not believe what I was seeing was real. I stood there dumbfounded until a friend’s voice brought me back to reality: “Robyn, can you come here and help out with the lights?”

After we had set up for the Campaña, the other missionaries and I went around the village asking people to join us. As I walked around the village, I noticed that children as young as 9 years old were taking care of their younger sisters and brothers. I was also surprised at how willingly the parents allowed their children to attend the Campaña. The kids glowed with joy when asked if they wanted to join us. They smiled and fanned me with their small hands when they noticed I was sweating. I repeatedly told them I was okay, but they insisted on keeping me cool. So at the Campaña we all sat in a huge circle fanning each other. I was very surprised by the fact that the people in the Dominican Republic were happy despite their living situation.

What I saw that night in the Dominican Republic changed my life completely. When I saw how happy and selfless the children were, I felt the need to change myself for the better. When I returned to America, I volunteered more enthusiastically. I was determined to make a difference in the lives of others. I worked on thinking of others needs and of putting others before myself and I learned to help others without expecting anything in return.

That night in the Dominican Republic, I discovered a meaning in life and became motivated to change the world in which we live in for the better.

Robyn Lee
Media for Humanity Intern

Have you ever had queasiness in your stomach? Not the kind when you’ve eaten a certain food that has turned – but the sort of stage fright queasiness that you get as you wait in the wings for your name to be announced or to finally make your grand entrance. We all want the grand entrance. The moment - when we “own” all that we have ever wished for. Not the cars or the jewels or the money. But the love of your spouse – the love of your family – a hug from your child – peace made with an old friend. Dare I say it peace in the world. The moment when we can “see “our true potential right there in front of us waiting to be unleashed. That is, if we set it free and let it grow.

This is the feeling that has been mulling about inside me for months. While I have done the job of keeping myself busy and taking care of my family, I have not settled the unrest in my mind and body. I felt stuck. “What is your plan?” my husband would frequently ask. “This is my plan.” I’d reply – sometimes tersely and other times with a huge smile on my face. Not really knowing exactly what it was or was not that I was talking about. I felt very much that I was on a journey. If I stayed true to what I said I believed in, I would leave myself open to uncover the voice I had so often quieted. But the demons in my head would urge me to just do something, anything. Stay in motion. Don’t slow down. My head was clouded with chatter. I wanted my mind to settle down. I wanted to feel the calm – sense the peace. What was it that I had discovered on my most recent path? And where did I want it all to lead? I attempted to quiet my demons. “Do not live your life by someone else’s rules or dreams.” This became my quiet mantra.

Feel passionate. Do what you love. Believe in yourself. Knock out that guy in your head that feeds you self doubt – the one who says “You can’t do that! You are not good enough!” Take his power away. Close your eyes. And finally “see” everything as you wish it to be. Step out of your comfort zone – even if it’s only with your toe. What would be the worst case scenario? Pull it all back in. Regroup it. Look at all of it from another angle. Take your time. Enjoy the queasiness in your body. Embrace the discomfort of change. Allow it to grow. The journey is amazing! Let the doors open. Don’t block them. Ya Gotta Live! Isn’t that grand? This is life. Make it yours.

- Tracy Hattem

The sky in Wyoming is crisp and clean and always seems about to change. At night it’s navy blue with a yellow moon and glittering stars that streak and sail overhead, while coyotes howl on the ground below. The gray Tetons glow in the sun and, like diamonds, they sparkle in the moon. They watch over the endless valleys and the wild sagebrush and the herds of buffalo. They shade the cowboys from the hot afternoon sun and they provide a resting place for the white, winter snow that dumps from the clouds. They are tempting, those Tetons, to any person with that natural, wild spirit that sees rivers as water parks and mountains as jungle gyms.

One day in April, my father announced that he’d signed me up to climb the Grand Teton, the highest peak in the range, with him, my younger brother, and my uncle. “No regrets” is my father’s motto and its concise, powerful message perfectly describes the man that he is as well as the reason that I didn’t decide to tell him I’d rather stay behind with a book, an iced coffee, and a pair of extra-strength binoculars to try and see them on the summit. 13,770 feet up into that Wyoming sky is a long way to be left behind.

And so, we boarded the plane in Newark, New Jersey – leaving smog and streetlights and jam-packed highways behind – and arrived to Jackson Hole, where the airport sits not at the base of a mall, but of a mountain range.

Flying into Jackson that time was different that it had been in past summers. It was like passing the boy you’d always liked, just after he’d asked you to the prom. It was like a native New Yorker who has become a Yankee and is walking out from the clubhouse that very first time: the promise of a huge event, the fluttering in your stomach. When we passed the tip-top of the Grand Teton, I nervously noted that our tray tables were still allowed to be down and our seat backs remained in the reclined position. It was a long way up.

We began with climbing school. We learned the vocabulary and the knots and how to walk backwards off a cliff. Trust the rope, trust your team, trust yourself. We got to know our guides, two gentle, rustic men who ran up and down those great mountains over and over again, wearing knee braces and Tevas. We packed our packs and tied our boots and began our hike to the base camp.

I was not as fast as my marathoner father or as equipped as my gear-obsessed uncle. I was not as experienced as our guides or as full of energy as my brother, who spent the majority of his free time playing high-school sports and anxiously awaiting puberty. Despite my competitive, over-achieving personality, I was okay with not being the best because with each step I took towards the top, I slowly and steadily passed waterfalls and wildflowers and boulder fields. I was not regretting a single thing.

After a long day of hiking, we arrived at our base camp. A little stone hut equipped with pots, pans, and playing cards. We played gin and chugged water while we discussed the plan. We were to be awake at 2 AM, on the summit by 9 AM, and all the way back in the parking lot with beers in our hands before 6 in the afternoon. Bedtime was set for 7 PM. My brother and I shared a tent. Inside it was muggy and we were surrounded by green, for the sun that was still high in the sky, shone through the leaf-colored fabric and dyed the air around us. I slept very little that night, but my carefree brother snored beside me. I had visions of being too exhausted to make it up to the top, or of not being able to find a foothold that I needed, forcing the rest of the guys to wait. I had visions of being the nervous girl in the dark on a mountain in the middle of the night, surrounded by men who had a destination and a time frame and no fear of heights.

One of our guides banged on our tent fly and when we came out, he handed us instant oatmeal. I was thankful for that comfort food, which reminded me of my safe, warm kitchen, far away at sea level. We began to walk, lighting our paths with headlamps. When the time came, when it turned technical, we stepped into our harnesses and tied ourselves to each other. It no longer mattered who was faster or who was the most afraid. We were attached by the ropes at our hips, not to mention the common blood that pulsed through our veins as we moved towards the sky. The yellow moon sank and the golden sun teased us by showing her pink glow, but waiting just under the horizon before revealing her total self. We found places for our hands and others for our feet. We looked up and not down and we watched the stars as they switched off, one by one. As we worked harder, we shed layers of clothes, and when we got to the ridge, we walked in a single file line across the rocks. The rope was loose between us as we made our way to the highest point.

Dirty, cut-up hands slapped high fives and sweaty bodies embraced. We were on the top of the mountain that had watched over us for so many summer vacations. There we were, radiating, glowing, and sparkling in that summer sun on that highest peak. It was a family affair to remember: two sets of siblings looking at a panoramic Wyoming view. It was a moment worthy of rolls and rolls of film. We had entered that Wyoming sky. There were clouds below us, and a blue blanket above us. We would get ourselves down that mountain, back to the valleys and horses and houses, but it would take quite some time to get ourselves down from the highest high that came from breathing that freshest mountain-top air. And, that mountain that guarded us, would no longer tempt our spirits. Instead, as we continued to marvel at its majesty, it would remind us of the day when every part of our spirit was fulfilled, when we had not a single regret.

- Courtney Knowlton
Media for Humanity Intern

Any company founded on the idea that it's imperative to do whatever you're doing with as much passion and gusto as you can muster is going receive my support. So when I heard that Ya Gotta Live was going to come to fruition I knew that they would have a fan and would receive my full support from the West Coast.

I've got a pretty cool gig going where I'm lucky enough to travel around the country with an art exhibit and I raise money for charity along the way. My role at the exhibit is to welcome people at the door, turn them onto to why they are there (great art and great causes) and make sure that they enter the space with a smile or at least a smirk on their faces. For the past two years I've been able to do this and have encountered literally thousands of people who have come to enjoy the exhibit and be part of a special atmosphere. It's been an incredible ride.

This current wonderful point in my life is directly attributable to one of the worst points in my own, and countless others' lives. I used to work for a beverage company doing marketing in the NY/NJ area. A lot of the job entailed giving out samples of the juice on streetcorners, at major events and festivals and in big accounts. On a beautiful fall morning I was on my way down to NYU to pour out some samples for the current batch of new students when all hell broke loose and literally the sky came crashing down. Like everyone else during September 11th there were great moments of uncertainty and fright but for me the scope of the situation and it's enormity was the most overwhelming and overiding feeling for me that day. It was beyond huge.

All right, so I've made it out of this situation ok, I've gotten good phone call after good phone call and my friends and people that I know are also ok so within my little sphere of influence. Things aren't all that bad. But just beyond my sphere things are horrible. How can I help? What can I as dude that drives around a purple juice van do? Wait a second, I drive around in a purple juice van and have access to wharehouses full of beverages, what do people need when they donate blood? Apple juice or orange juice....

So I used some of my media contacts from the juice company to deliver vanloads of juice to worthy locations around the city and in doing so I was blown away by how people came together to do what they could. When I pulled up to a drop off point and opened up my doors within 2 minutes there was a fireman's relay to empty the entire van and move me out so the next drop off could be made. I saw people who had bought out all of the batteries from a convenience store and were dropping them off, I saw people with cold cuts, flashlights, band aids and Gatorades all coming to do what they could as individuals. When all of those individuals came together from all walks of life and from all parts of the country it was quite empowering to be a part of and it made a really crappy situation a little bit more bearable.

The feeling that those couple of days delivering cases gave me spurred me on to where I'm at now. I got a job doing marketing nationally and brought a previous relationship with a charity that gives money to public school teachers nationally as well. We were able to make donations and raise money through our company. I got involved with this art exhibit as a result of my relationship with the charity and then was able to raise additional funds for these teachers through the art exhibits. After the juice company was bought out and I was out of a job as a result of the re-organization I created a position for myself between the charity and the art exhibit where I could do what I'm doing now. Last year (2003), by asking people for a couple of bucks at the door before they checked out the art, I was able to raise $100,000 dollars for this charity. Unbelievable stuff.

This all started because of one of the worst days in any of our lifetimes and it culminated with me realizing that "ya gotta do what you can" do because it makes a difference.

- Rudy Siegel

ps Check out the charity at www.adoptaclassroom.com . It's a great concept and a great program

Ya Gotta Believe!

If there's one thing that I repeatedly try to teach my 5 year old daughter it's that anything is possible.

Sure, I know it sounds like nothing more than a platitude - one of those cute catch phrases often found on posters adorned with soft-focus pictures of kittens half hanging out of a tree or tangled in yarn... but this is different. I know for a fact that it's true.

I can remember my freshman year of college attending a concert at the local outdoor music theater. I was just one of 20,000 people in the crowd watching the band "The Cranberries" perform. But unlike all the folks who were singing along and dancing, I was standing there thinking one thought: someday I want to be on that stage.

At the time I had been playing guitar for all of 18 months, and by playing I mean that I knew the introduction to almost every song ever written, but I couldn't play beyond a couple of bars into the first verse. It was fun for me but really annoying for my friends.

After college, I continued playing. I wrote a bunch of songs, formed a band, and even recorded an album. We played a bunch of local shows and recorded another album. A local deejay happened to hear one of the songs and asked if he could play it on his show. Although I wasn't a marketing major, this seemed like a good idea so we let him, figuring that it was no big deal.

"The Jagermeister Song" became a regional hit in a couple of New England cities and before we knew it we were getting asked to play all sorts of big shows. One of them was the Radio 104 "Big Day Off" - an all day music festival held at the very same outdoor music theater that I had visited 5 years before. As I took the stage that day opening up for Third Eye Blind in front of a crowd of 20,000 people it became obvious to me that often the only limits we encounter in our lives are the ones we place there.

So while I don't have any particular career in mind for my daughter, my hope is that whatever her dreams may be that she'll realize that anything really IS possible, just as long as you're willing to believe it and willing to try.

- Lee Totten

For more information on Lee's music and the Jagermeister Song visit www.leetotten.com or search for "Lee Totten" in the iTunes music store.

It was a rainy weeknight, and I was going to the gym to knock off a few miles on the treadmill. The gym was probably packed because it's raining and most of the fair weather outdoor runners are jamming up the machines. Oh well, I'll stretch until a machine opens up. I got dressed and grabbed a tee shirt, happens to be a Hessdorf Special Edition - YGL tee shirt. As I'm heading out of my building I'm thinking about the logo - what does it really mean to me? I guess to some extent it means doing things that you may subconsciously want to do or try but too much logic gets in the way.

So as I'm slowly jogging to the gym, getting rained on, I realized how good it felt. How illogical it would be to run in the rain at night when I could easily just go to a (dry) gym and run on a treadmill for an hour. Well I just kept going and had a fantastic run. Not because I was on a really fast pace or anything like that, but because it felt awesome to feel the cool rain, to run through a puddle instead of around it, to get soaked and not care. To me that's what Ya Gotta Live is all about. Do something a little different, have fun, be a kid, don't think too hard about the logic to everything. Just go out, take a run in the rain one day, you'll know what I'm talking about, you'll know that - Ya Gotta Live!

- Jessy Crespi

Greetings from 30,000 Feet....

As I gaze out the window of the plane on my way to Argentina, I think about how fortunate I am for meeting this wonderful family, the Abadi’s....

It was in the winter of 2000 that my friends and I went on vacation to Club Med in Cancun, Mexico. We needed to take a break from the New York City lifestyle and treat ourselves to a little rest and relaxation. I remember leaving New York on one of the coldest morning ever and then arriving in Mexico to beautiful sunshine and warmth.

Once we arrived, we went through the usual Club Med welcome antics, hands up and cocktails. All we wanted to do was get to the beach and relax. On the way to the beach we passed the pool where folks were lying out, swimming, playing volleyball, etc. It was hard not notice the three of us with our pasty skin and gawking eyes. I also could not help noticing a girl with beautiful blonde hair swimming by herself in the pool. She looked so relaxed swimming. It was apparent my friends noticed her as well. She was oblivious to any of us, and just continued back and forth in the pool.

We headed towards the beach for much needed relaxation.
As the week went on, we kept ourselves very busy with water sports, land sports, dancing, and of course eating! I did not see the blonde girl from the pool since that first encounter until the 3rd day. I was playing basketball and she was walking by. She actually stopped and watched. While I was playing I sheepishly smiled in her direction. Much to my surprise, she smiled back! But not at me, she smiled at her brother with the fondness of a proud older sister. He was on my team. After the game I introduced myself to him and he introduced me to his sister Valeria. Basketball players have this bond! :)

We talked for a while and she then proceeded to introduce me to her whole family. Her other brother and parents. They were from Buenos Aries, Argentina. Very nice family who loved their sister and daughter very much. I made plans to meet her at the bar before dinner for a drink. She hesitantly agreed and told me her family and a friend would be joining us. Hmm, a friend would be joining us? I did not know what to expect. Well, that friend was an Argentinean gentleman whom Valeria met at the beginning of her vacation. He appeared to be a very nice guy, who was probably wondering what I was doing there. But he did not talk English, which helped the situation. After drinks I met up with my friends and wished them a nice dinner.

As the week went on I would play ball with her brothers, talk to her parents and not see Valeria much at all. She was hanging with her friend. What amazed me is that I had this wonderful connection with her family that was hard to describe. The week in Club Med flew by. My friends and I had a blast!

The Abadi’s and I exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. Typically that does not happen since we’re from opposite ends of North and South America. But they told me they travel to NYC often and would look me up.

They kept their promise and I saw them quite frequently and still do. During that time Valeria and I really grew close with each other. She would visit more often then her family. It was a great relationship that kept getting stronger and stronger. We realized that the romantic part could not go on because of the distance. I really feel blessed to have met her and her family. They have so much warmth to give that you can’t help wanting to be a better person around them.

I’m on my way to Argentina to attend her wedding. She is not marrying me, or the friend from Club Med. She is marrying a very lucky man from Spain. There are people you meet in life that have a tremendous impact on you. I am a better person because of them!

- Rob Hessdorf, YGL! Founder

To view more of Rob's photos from Argentina click here.

When I first started thinking about an inspirational story to write, I thought of making a list of all those people that have inspired me in some way to live life and be more than I thought I could be: My friend bravely battling cancer, my old neighbor from growing up who encouraged me to take up running to get into shape and boost my confidence - who remained optimistic and active through his own battle with Lymphoma(which he sadly lost), my friend who was not much of an athlete that decided to run a marathon in memory of her mother and father and who now runs 3 hour marathons and does triathlons, my friend who created this website - following his dream to fruition, all Olympic athletes, my grandmother, my friends, my family, the Achilles Track Club, special Olympics athletes, children around the world, Ghandi, Helen Keller, The Dali Lama, volunteers... And the list went on and on.

As I went over my list, I realized that nowhere was my own name, my own stories of accomplishment, overcoming obstacles and pursuing dreams. We are so quick to judge our failures and what we perceive as shortcomings, that we forget to recognize in ourselves, all that it took to get us where we are today. I've survived the teenage years of angst, I struggled, overcame and fully recovered from a battle with a 10 year eating disorder, I was devastated, but eventually learned how to embrace life after the suicide of my best friend in high school, I took up running for exercise and eventually completed 5 marathons, I changed careers until I found my calling, I asked for help when I needed it.

It's so easy to fall prey to the superficial competitive ways of the city and society, especially here in NYC. So when life throws us curve balls, gets us down, rattles our insecurities and shakes our confidence, in addition to seeking help from others, trust yourself, be inspired by yourself.

- Beth Goldstein

It is the saddest thing to go to an animal shelter and see all of the homeless animals who desperately need love and attention. Having always been an advocate of animal adoption, I knew that I would adopt a dog when was ready for the responsibility. The day I went to the ASPCA I thought I would just see what was out there, I was not expecting to come home with one.

After my interview, they suggested that I see one dog they had in mind based on my criteria. I will never forget the look on his face when they brought him into the room. The sweetest, happiest and cutest little dog who had no idea why he was left there, abandoned by his family. He was not what I had envisioned for myself but when I spent some time with him, I knew he was mine. Elvis has been part of my life since January and I have not only given him a happy home, but he has made me happier than I could imagine. When I look at him, I smile and laugh - he is full of personality.

It is such an amazing feeling to have rescued such a wonderful and loving animal who makes every day a happier and more fulfilling one.

- Dayna Kalmus

My senior year in high school I went to the Soviet Union (it was still called that) with a school group. The whole trip was an incredible experience, but there was one incident that really stood out. I was waiting on line at a sidewalk stand to buy some ice cream - hand there was a guy standing behind me who kept looking at me funny. We all thought we were being followed by the KGB (it was definitely our imagination) so I got a little nervous. I bought my ice cream and went to catch up with the group. The guy did not buy ice cream but instead followed me and stopped me.

He asked me if I was English or American. I told him American. He whipped a book out of his coat pocket - it was wrapped in newspaper. He took the newspaper off and said in pretty decent English he was reading this book - it was "All The President's Men", about Watergate and the impeachment of Nixon. He asked me if the story was true - I thought he was putting me on. I told him it was. We spoke for a couple of minutes. He was incredulous that in America we could not only criticize the President, we could force him to resign.

That was my first trip out of the country, and the first time I realized how special our freedom is and how much we take it for granted. I never took it for granted again. I like to think my Russian friend now feels the same way.

- Greg Smolev

Yagotta Have Passion!

Did you ever wonder what it would take to make you leap out of bed every morning?

Up until 2 years ago, I dreaded going to work everyday. I dragged myself out of bed, drove to the office, was aggravated with my company, my associates, then went home and knew I had to start all over again the next day. I had formally graduated college with a graphic arts degree, but because I had to eat, chose a different path. Since I graduated, I've made a career in Sales/Marketing. Always successful, never satisfied.

So, 2 years ago, my friend "Shw"eta and I decided to leave the corporate rat race and take a leap of faith and do something that we are passionate about. We are both creative, love paper and working with our hands.

Voila! "Shwamy Creations, Inc." was born! We now design invitations, announcements and accessories for any life event.

These past two years have been so rewarding and can't imagine going back to a corporate job.

Amy Wohl, Co-President
Shwamy Creations, Inc.
www.shwamy.com

Once upon a time I thought I would meet prince charming, get swept off my feet and ride off into the sunset on a white horse. Except everytime a contender saddled up, I went running off into the sunset alone!

Well, it took a while and now it's days from happening. I just turned 40 and I'm about to walk down the aisle for the very first time.

I don't want the wedding to happen, not because I'm afraid to tie the knot, but because being engaged has been such an incredible experience.

The outpouring of love from our friends and family has been so overwhelming and the distances people are traveling to join us in celebrating are incredible (not to mention the gifts!). Like everyone else, we have our ups and downs but each day we pinch ourselves to make sure this is really real.

The best part is, I'm not only marrying my best friend, but I'm getting a precious child in the deal as well. From single in the city to settled in the suburbs -- it ain't all so bad!!

- Joanne Lamarca-