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Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation Event

A couple of years ago I went to my son’s daycare to take part in bring your parent to school day. As I work on at cancer research organization, I brought an Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation (ALSF) book to his pre-kindergarten class and read to them about Alex’s dream of raising money to help sick kids with cancer. Afterward his teacher came to me and asked if I wanted to help run an Alex’s Lemonade stand so that we could help raise money for the foundation. I thought it was a great idea. Time passed, and as what happens sometimes with good ideas, it never took shape as I was busy and the teachers were busy too. I wanted to help out but I didn’t make an effort to pick up the phone to try and follow up on helping to organize the event. However, through my work, an opportunity came up last summer to volunteer for the day to sell lemonade on the corner manning an Alex’s Lemonade Stand at the Ritz Carlton hotel in Philadelphia (see the picture above to the left). For a couple of hours, I carried a tray with large glasses of lemonade and my colleagues and I walked up to strangers on the street and did our best to sell or accept donations. There were a good many of us who had volunteered to help and at the end of the event Alex’s parents, Liz and Jay Scott, stopped by to thank us for our help. Although Alex had lost her fight against cancer several years ago, the Scotts still fought on and had expanded their Foundation to be nationally known. After that day of volunteering to help raise money for Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation, I really enjoyed working to make a difference in a very grassroots way. I knew that I would help again in the future but I didn’t know how or when.

A few weeks ago one of the teachers at my daughter’s daycare (formerly my son’s school) called me and asked if I would help them man their first Alex’s Lemonade Stand. I jumped at the opportunity. Not only would this allow me to fulfill the promise I made to help out the school but I wanted to show my kids the importance of volunteering and helping out. Yesterday was the big day. Parents had baked all sorts of yummy cookies and cupcakes, the kids had made fresh lemonade and the teachers had made signs, set up the tent and provided all the other necessary items we needed for the day.

Once outside several of the teachers, another parent and I, separated the kids and stood on opposite corners trying our best to convince motorists to pull into the parking lot to make a donation. We all fought the 90 plus degree weather and didn’t give up hope as car after car passed by without stopping. But seeing the kids’ faces as they kept screaming in unison: “Come on over. Lemonade. LemonADE! Get your lemonade” I wanted to see these kids succeed so I started waving the sign, jumping up and down trying my best to get people to stop. Our plan was simple: The kids would start the lemonade chant, one of the kids’ mom held a container filled with glasses of lemonade and I would jump up and down, waving a lemon shaped sign with “Alex’s lemonade” on it. We worked together and every time we had someone stop we’d cheer and jump up and down. A dollar here, five dollars there and even a few 10 dollar bills started to add up. Midway through one of the teachers pulled her car up on the lawn and turned on some music and cranked up the fun. The kids started dancing (one little boy even started break dancing on the grass!) and we adults all started to shake our thang, having fun and doing our best to raise money.

Toward the end of my shift, a mom and her daughter came over with a large envelope. Their family had recently held an Alex’s Lemonade Stand and they took all the money they had collected and gave it to our efforts so that we could combine all of the money and send it in to Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation. How wonderful to others come out to help! Before I left, one of the teachers brought my daughter outside and I was able to get down on my knees and give her a great big hug as she ran into my open arms. I squeezed her tight against me and kissed her. Pediatric cancer has affected many families worldwide. Many kids are fighting cancer today and some will lose their battle. I am honored and happy to have been able to help out at yesterday’s fundraising event. We learned a lot as to what works and what we could all do better for next time. But I remembered an important lesson yesterday: Get up, make a difference and try. Don’t give up. Seriously, don’t give up ever. Remember: “When life gives you lemons make lemonade.” I pray I can remember that mantra in my daily life.

20 Years Ago: Studying in Paris, France

Twenty years have passed since I first went to France to study under the International Studies Association and I wanted to take some time to reflect on what those three weeks in Paris during the summer of 1990 mean to me.

Since then, I’ve done a good amount of research on Jungian psychology and the self-discovery process in the hopes of better understanding myself and the world around me. My Master's thesis "Memory and the Quest for Self: A Jungian Reading of Alice Walker and Margaret Atwood" helped me to crystallize the path that I’ve chosen to walk in life and that journey started with the decision to study in Paris. But before I get to the end of the story, let me start at the beginning. I won’t recap my thoughts of going on the trip. If interested, you can read my blog post on the 15th anniversary.

Yet I did want to focus on a pivotal moment in time in which I sat in my college French class realizing that I had received a $500 scholarship toward the program, but still could not afford the trip. At 19, I was putting myself through school and worked 25 hours a week at a retail job. I realized that I would need near $5000 to cover the cost of the trip and expenses. I wanted to go to Paris as it would be an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would take classes at one of the satellite Sorbonne buildings and live in the dorm, learning about French civilization, the language and culture. I so wanted to go, but I did not have the money.

Two paths were before me: I could not go or go.

Now that I have 20 years of experience beyond that important decision, I can be a bit more objective and honest with myself. I can also freeze time in the story as I sit in college, trying to decide on whether I would go or not and back the story up to when I was in high school. Back then I took French classes on a whim. I enjoyed it a lot and did well. In my Junior year, I had a wonderful French teacher. The friendship that grew from my time as her student taught me not only the love of French culture but she was the first person that I “sparked” with creatively.

“Sparking” is an interesting experience for me as there are only a few people in my life whom I have met to become my muse. My high school French teacher was one of those people. Back when I was 16, I wrote a novel for her as part of my French assignment. A daily journal blossomed into a several hundred page novel. The seed of that novel became “Dorothea’s Song.” Having lost contact with her about a decade ago, I had thought to look her up online and send her a copy of my book. What I learned saddened me beyond words: A few years ago she passed away from cancer.

I look back on all of this and come back to that moment in college, deciding on whether to go on the France trip. At that point, I had graduated high school, chose to continue studying French and opted to become a dual major (English and French). All that I had learned from my high school French teacher remained alive within me as a college student. I could not go on the trip or go. I remember the stories that my high school French teacher had told me about her time studying in France. The great joy she had in seeing the art, eating the food and learning the language. As a young man of 19, I wanted to experience the Parisian life and wanted to grow beyond the small world of Philadelphia that I grew up in. (The video below is a few minutes of my visit to Notre Dame de Paris with the first minute or so being of my friends and I in the Roman sewers near Notre Dame--July 1990.)

Decision time: I stared at the blackboard that day in French class back in college and chose to go on the trip. I had been denied borrowing money from my grandfather so I would need a loan from the bank. And that’s what I did because the experience was necessary for me. I believe in one’s personal myth and the life that we live leads us on the hero’s quest toward individuation. The challenge, in today’s world is finding a balance between hokey self-growth mantras and earning a living to pay the bills. Back when I was 19, I was young, naïve and just plain clueless about the ways of the world.

Yet I had some of my wits about me because I was able to trust the instinct that called me to go to France. I recently read in Joseph Campbell’s "Pathways to Bliss" about a meditation that he was given once that explains much about the self-discovery process: "Where are you between two thoughts? You're thinking of yourself all the time in everything you do. You know, there's the image of yourself--the ego. So, where are you between two thoughts?" Campbell goes on to explain that the undiscovered you is apart from your ego that you normally walk around with yet the “you” between your thoughts is your untapped potential, saying: "That's what our intuitive flash is giving you a taste of. This thought, that thought, the ripple of the mind--do you ever have a glimpse that transcends anything you could think of about yourself? That's the source field out of which all of your energies are coming. And so the hero journey through the threshold is simply a journey beyond the pairs of opposites, where you go beyond good and evil." For me, I tie the undiscovered self to my "spark" theory. Over the years, I have met several people who have acted as a foil to me and the undiscovered part of me rises to the surface. The creativity and inspiration that I feel at those times is rather remarkable. Yet I have also had experiences (travels, death, birth, etc.) that have also acted as these “spark” moments in time for me. At first, I thought that the creative energy blossoming in me was due to my interaction with that other person or that experience. But that's not the case. Those creative flashes or sparks are from within me. Those moments of intense energy are a perfect example of the "me" between two thoughts.

The importance of understanding my limits and inner self is to find the balance to incorporate the various parts of me into a whole. Again, I turn to a Jungian approach as I believe that each of us has a public persona, a shadow, anima/animus and self. I don’t go around on a conscious level thinking about my shadow, but let me explain: We each have a public persona and a private “me.” At work you will probably act somewhat different around your boss then how you act when you’re with your spouse. Incorporation the four archetypal aspects (a persona, shadow, animus, and self) of yourself is the process of individuation. 

Now I am the future of the 19 year old me. I’m at a position in which I see what I have learned, understand the troubles that I have had and experienced some of life to get to where I am now. The future, future me (20 years from now) is beyond my understanding yet I can surmise that many of the themes that I have written about today will be relevant for me then. And that’s the journey that I am on: Twenty years ago I had a major split in the road of life and I chose one path over another. Staying home wouldn’t have been “wrong” but I would not be the “me” I am today and I wanted to become that person. I knew enough that I believed that the experiences I would have in France would strengthen and change me—and living in Paris did do that for me. What I find rather funny is that there is no way that me, at 19, could imagine who I would be today or what I would be experiencing. My knowledge of my self was so limited at that time that it is amusing, but I knew enough to pick the trip and to turn a hope into reality.

There are moments in my life when a “spark” comes (a person or event) and that moment in time acts as a fork in the road. I have a choice to make: Stay the course or change. I don’t go seeking “sparks” as life doesn’t work that way. A "spark" isn't a thrill ride. Nor do I look at people I meet as inanimate objects that I can get my creative kicks off of. Rather it's that space between two thoughts and I see a flash of insight into my life. When I encounter a moment like that, I need to think fast on my feet and either embrace the moment or back off. I don’t want to label “right” or “wrong” to these choices because each case is not that simple as life often isn’t black and white. Though I’m happy to find that listening and trusting my instinct usually doesn’t lead me wrong.

I’ve thought a lot about my decision from 20 years ago and realized that it’s not about France or the language or necessarily the experiences I had. No, it’s not that at all. Instead, being open and receptive to change and growth is important. The challenge is learning which path to take when these life altering opportunities come up. There are times when I'm on one page and another is on a totally different page. I've learned that listening to myself and what will be healthy for me is critical to my well-being.

Where will the future bring me? I don't think that's an important question. Rather I'd rather ponder: Who am I between two thoughts and where do I want to go from here? As Emerson has stated: "Life is a journey, not a destination." For me, that's what is important. Because, in the end, what will I really care about? The relationships I've forged with family, friends, the self-knowledge that I've uncovered about myself and my connection to the world around me. Living in Paris or not wasn't the critical decision that helped me to grow, but being aware enough to know the importance of the choice and why I made the decision I did helped me along my journey. And 20 years later, I'm still on that long and winding road.

How to Write a Novel

I wrote my first novel back when I was 16 years old. At the time, I had a crush on my French teacher and wrote a fantasy story as part of a project for my high school French class. Some kids get in trouble with the law, dabble in drinking, but I wrote a novel. Many years later I rewrote "Dorothea's Song" and then started writing my second novel. "Amelion's Song" is a sequel that is in draft form but I've not gotten back to re-writing it. In the meantime, life has been filled with work, freelance writing, short stories, blog posts and lots and lots of podcasting.

Back in January I made a decision to start writing a third novel. The current work is unique to any work I've done before and I've kept quiet about it because I've been afraid. I am now 140 pages into the book and am at a critical moment in it. The proverbial crap is going to hit the fan and I realize that the reason why I am afraid to talk about my writing a novel is because I fear I might fail and not complete the work. I have a full, full life with much to juggle and there have been times over the last seven months that I dropped out and stopped writing.

I have heard and read stories about writers who pop out books in weeks whereas I gave myself a deadline of one year to finish my book. I have heard writers berate other writers about how you must work everyday and you must do this and must do that--but that's not me. I am not writing this post to pass judgment on others but to share my process with fellow authors. I work full-time (and then some), am married, raising two kids, creating podcasts, engaging in social media and I try to get some sleep. When do I make time to write? How do I do it? And, most importantly, why?

Do you see that picture above of the beautiful gazebo-like structure with water surrounding it? To me, that's a picture that represents solace, comfort and peace. When I write, truly write for me, I am in touch with a part of me that is imaginative, creative and peaceful. Those creative energies build up within and I am lucky enough to be able to take these thoughts and write them down. The struggle is making time to write. Yet I learned that if you only write several pages a week, over time, you have a book. Some writers might say that you should writing several pages a day whereas I would say: Write the amount that feels good to you. If you're on a deadline, well, that's a different story as a work for hire contract is what it is. But if you're writing for yourself, be sure to write, yet don't beat yourself up and force yourself to write every day if that's not what you want to do.

There have been times in writing a novel in which the act of writing has been difficult as I am not inspired, am distracted by life and frustrated with not being able to go forward. During those times, I stop, go play or work on something else. I've done blog posting instead or create a podcast or go running. I've learned to be easy on myself realizing that I can't finish a book in a day. I just can't. Back when I created "Dorothea's Song" into an audiobook, I learned that some authors created the podcast versions of their books in a few days, some released one episode a week but I chose to record everything in advance and then release them one by one over time. The point: Come up with your own plan that is going to work with your schedule. If you don't want to write, then don't do it. But if you want to, then feel your way through the schedule that you have.

I have time at 5 a.m. and that's when I write. I would prefer writing late at night, but I'm unable to stay up that late these days because of my work schedule. Yet by getting up a bit earlier, writing when it's quiet in the house, I am able to knock some pages out. At the moment, I'm at page 140 and I'm rather happy about that. The fear that I have is that I have a long way to go--I'm probably at around the halfway point. I had a general idea of where the plot would go and I had written that down, but the characters are taking on a life of their own. Those damn creations of mine aren't listening to me and whole scenes that I had worked out in my head are being tossed aside. They won't be written that way any more as my main protagonist wants to go another way. She's re-writing the story, in a way, herself as I'm learning who she is.

But getting back to writing: By admitting my fear, I can face it. I have many faults and quirks. Today I am facing this one: I'm afraid that I'll fail and not complete this current book. I'm afraid of all the work yet to do and am wondering how to be better at marketing the completed book. I do feel lost in all of that, but one day at a time. Today I got up early, wrote a few pages and now am finishing this post. It's a good day.

If you want to write, just do it for yourself. Trust me, it'll be fun.