The Educating

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The Educating.
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The month of September is known for unannounced visits from Poseidon (the Greek god of rain), and on that late chilly evening it remained true to type. PHCN had been kind to this tiny neighbourhood at Trans Ekulu in Enugu for some weeks now, but that was not to be the case that day. Groans, shrieks and expletives greeted the air as PHCN promptly withdrew its services which, going by the nature of the weather, would probably not be available until sometime the next day. For the males in the hood, it meant that they had to find alternative means of watching Real Madrid and their fluid football that night; they would probably have to camp behind the window of Rev. Cletus’ house, as only he in the neighbourhood possessed a generator and loved football at the same time.
The power outage mattered little to Nneka however. She had managed to complete her Integrated Science Assignment in the nick of time and besides, the rain could only go to aid her sleep until early the next day, when she hoped to begin another day as a J.S.S Two student in a private school which was a forty-minute drive away from where she lived. To her, the only snag about PHCN’s cowering to the rain was that it robbed her of the chance to try out the new school uniform, which her mother had sewn for her three days earlier as a gift for her 11th birthday.
By 8:15pm, Nneka already had her seatbelt fastened for an early flight to Dreamland. Back there, power outage did not exist, she had fairies at her beck and call and everywhere was as colourful as a wedding ceremony. Sadly for her, she had to get back to Earth less than 20 minutes later as the door of her room gave way. In the darkness, she tried to make out who it was had had interrupted her dreams. Her eyes met with little difficulty. It was Sam, her mother’s younger cousin who had been living with them for two years since he was relieved of his position as an Accounts Clerk at the Lagos branch of Nigeria Breweries Plc. In family circles, it was somewhat odd for a 30-year-old man to live comfortable off his relatives without doing so much as fend for himself, but Sam couldn’t be bothered. Afterall, Nneka’s parents didn’t seem to mind, he provided much help around the house, and on this particular night, only he was around to look after Nneka. Her parents, both evangelists, had travelled earlier in the day for a Leaders’ Conference in Akure, and would not return in the next 72 hours. Her elder brothers, Kene and Uche, were boarders at missionary schools in Lagos and Edo states respectively.
“Good evening Uncle Sam”, Nneka mumbled in her still sleepy voice.
“Good evening”, replied Sam quickly. After about two minutes in which he treated her to a long surveying stare albeit in the shadows, he eventually let his lips part with the words, “there is something I would love to tell you.”
Nneka was uneasy now. She was wondering what it was that would soon come to her knowledge. Was she to go out and get yet another item from Mama Eze’s kiosk? Sam seemed to love sending her on late errands. Or was it the empty pots of stew she had failed to wash? Sam was not the type to spank her. What then would it be, she quizzed herself.
“I want you”, Sam said.
Want! Want!! WANT!!! Whatever could that mean, she asked herself. The word kept making dance moves in her head. WANT! She was still trying to digest the statement when without warning, she felt her feet leave the floor, and in another four seconds, she felt Sam’s 71kkg frame on her, and her lips swallowed up in his.
Nneka was confused, and not without good reason. Sam was virtually chewing up her lips. She had no idea that lips contained nutrients. She had been taught the six classes of food in school, but which category did LIPS fall into? Carbohydrates? Proteins? Vitamins? Before she was able to dwell on that, Sam had got to work again. His hands had found a pair of soft pawpaws, and he didn’t seem willing to let go anytime soon. Her small low cut night gown meant easier access. It was Christmas come in September for Sam. A wide grin strolled across Sam’s dark face as he treated the pawpaws to squeeze after squeeze. Rather firm and full for an eleven-year-old, he mused. It would be fair to say that no word exists to explain how Nneka felt. Shock? Fear? Confusion? None of these would fit in.
Sam wasted little time there. In a matter of minutes, his hands slid further down her anatomy, where he gently negotiated through a small shrub of grass before proceeding to explore the Wonderland. As his fingers surveyed, Nneka had terror written all over her face scarcely visible on this half-mooned night. There was somewhere there that caused her to jerk as Sam perused. It was as if he felt the need to reassure her, accompanying his movements with whispers of “Trust Me.” A stare which conveyed all she felt was her reply to Sam’s words. He returned a blank stare and a wry smile, then went about his business. Nneka’s confusion showed no signs of going away, but she was wrong to think that this was it. Ten seconds and a loosened zipper later, Sam began to put his most effective tool to use. Sam’s thrusts, which began deceptively gently before going full throttle, showed a release of bottled up energy. He couldn’t be blamed though, being placed on a two-year long libido leash since that evening with the daughter of his former colleague at the NBC was by no means amusing.
Sam’s movements brought back to Nneka memories of a wildlife documentary she had seen four weeks earlier. It had been about a large restless snake which kept crawling in and out of its hole, spewing out thick venom at intervals. Superlatives are lacking to describe the pain she felt. As the minutes rolled away, pain was replaced by resignation, and resignation by desire, which came to play as she held on to his black singlet with a loose but inviting grip when it seemed that his lust had begun to wane. She now felt a strange warmth for the man whom she saw as a monster only few minutes earlier. Her eyes lit up, and even more strangely a smile found its way to her face for the first time that night. Was this love? The love she saw in movies and those of her elder brother’s novels she often sneaked away to read? She couldn’t understand this feeling that now made her receive him with all innocent eagerness, and which was expressed in a fiercer way two weeks later when she tried to fight off the police officers who came to put Sam in chains and whisk him away at the request of her parents. It appeared that the men in black, whose faces seemed unwilling to accommodate any pleasant expressions, would need a lot more than repeated screams of “Leave Uncle alone” to let Sam go.
As Deaconess Mary-Margaret tried in vain to console her daughter who felt so sore at being parted from the man who had let her taste the forbidden cucumber of love, her mind took a short trip around what would have been. She should have acted upon the suspicion which arose every time Sam gave Nneka that shifty look, or the times he went on his tickling routine. She now wondered if the events of that night could have been avoided if she had explained to Nneka those chapters on reproduction which she had curiously stumbled on in Uche’s biology textbooks, rather than going ahead to shout her down. She pondered on how things could have been different if only she had explained to her inquisitive daughter what Antonio Banderas was doing with Angelina Jolie in the movie “Original Sin”, rather than place her palms over the child’s eyes. Oh, if only she had treated Nneka to a discussion about men, about feelings, about the Bedsheet Olympics. She had failed to give her child the sex education she needed. Well, the vacuum had been filled. Sam had taken it upon himself to do the educating, in his own way.
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#BeyondTheQuote (TRUE LOVE)

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Heart Touching Story Of True Love – A Doctor’s Note

It was approximately 8.30 a.m. on a busy morning when an elderly gentleman in his eighties arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9.00 a.m. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat.

I knew it would take more than an hour before someone would to able to attend to him. I saw him check his watch anxiously for the time and decided to evaluate his wound since I was not busy with another patient.

On examination, the wound was well healed. Hence, I talked to one of the doctors to get the supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound. We began to engage in a conversation while I was taking care of his wound. I asked him if he had another doctor’s appointment later as he was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no and said that he needed to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with his wife. I inquired about her health. He told me that she had been in the nursing home for a while as she was a victim of Alzheimer’s disease. I probed further and asked if she would be upset if he was slightly late.

He replied that she no longer knew who he was and she had not been able to recognize him since five years ago. I asked him in surprise, “And you still go every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are?” He smiled as he patted my hand and said, “She doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.” I had to hold back my tears as he left. I had goose bumps on my arm, and I thought, “That is the kind of love I want in my life.” True love is neither physical nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.
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THE STORY OF LATIFF
Latiff was the poorest beggar of the village. Every night he slept in the hall of a different house, in front of the town square.

Every day he had a short rest under a different tree, with a widespread hand and a far away look in his thoughts. Every evening he would eat the alms or the crusts that some charitable person brought over to him.

Without embargo, in spite of his aspect and the way his days happened, Latiff was considered by all to be the wisest man of town, perhaps not so much because of his intelligence, but by what he had lived.

One sunny morning the king appeared in the square, surrounded by his guards, walking between the fruits and trinkets looking for nothing.

Laughing at the merchants and at the buyers, the king and his entourage almost stumbled over Latiff, who was dozing in the shade of a holm oak. Someone told the king that he was in front of the poorest of his subdits, but also in front of one of the most respected men because of his knowledge.

The king, entertained, approached the beggar and said to him, “If you answer my question, I will give you this golden coin.”

Latiff looked at it, almost contemptuously, and said to him, “You can keep your coin, what will I do with it anyway? What is your question?”

The king felt defied by the response and instead of a banal question, he asked a question that was bothering him for days and that he could not solve; a problem of goods and resources that analysts had not solved for him.

Latiff’s response was wise and creative. The king was surprised; he left the coin at the feet of the beggar and continued on his way to the market, pondering the events.

The next day he came back directly to where Latiff was resting; this time under an olive grove. Again the king posed a question and again Latiff answered it rapidly and wisely. The king was surprised again at so much intelligence. In a humble act, he took off his sandals and sat in front of Latiff.

“Latiff, I need you”, the king said to him. “I am overwhelmed by the decisions that as king I must make. I do not want to harm my people and neither do I want to be an evil king. I ask you to come to the palace to be my adviser. I promise you that you should not fear at all, that you will be respected and that you will be able to leave whenever you want… Please.”

Whether it was out of compassion, for service or for surprise, Latiff, after thinking a few minutes, accepted the proposal of the king.

That same evening Latiff came into the palace, where immediately a luxurious room was assigned to him. The room was close to the king’s room and had a tub filled with essences and lukewarm water waiting for him.

During the following weeks the consultations with the king became habitual. Every day, in the morning, and in the evening, the monarch ordered his new adviser to consult him on the problems of the kingdom, on his own life or on his spiritual doubts.

Latiff always answered with clarity and precision and became the favourite speaker of the king. Three months after his arrival, there wasn’t any decision made by the monarch without consulting his valued adviser first.

Obviously this unleashed the jealousy of all the other advisers. They saw in the beggar a threat against their own influences.

One day all of the advisers asked for a private hearing with the king. Very circumspect and with gravity they said to him, “Your friend Latif, as you call him, is conspiring to demolish you.”

The king said, “I cannot believe it.”

“You can confirm it with your own eyes”, they said. “Every evening, at about five o’clock, Latiff slinks away from the palace up to the south wing and he enters a dark room. He meets with someone undercover, we do not know with whom. We have asked him where he was going all these evenings. He gave us evasive answers. His attitude alerted us to his conspiracy.”

The king felt defrauded and hurt. He had to confirm these versions.

That evening, at five o’clock, he was waiting for Latiff under the stairs. He saw Latiff come to the door and look all around, with the key hanging from his neck. He opened the wooden door and slinked secretly into the room.

“Did you see him?” The other advisers shouted. “You saw him?”

Followed by his personal guard, the monarch struck the door.

“Who is it?” Latiff asked from the inside.

“I am the King” he said, “Open the door to me.”

Latiff opened the door. There was nobody inside, except Latiff. No other doors or windows, no secret doors or any furniture where someone could hide.

Inside the room, there was only a worn out wooden plate; in a corner, a walking stick and in the center of the room a shabby tunic hanging by a hook in the roof.

“Are you conspiring against me Latiff?” the King asked.

“How could I, your Majesty?” Latiff answered. “No way. Why would I do that? Only six months ago, when I first came here, the only thing that I had was this tunic, this plate and this walking stick. Now I feel so comfortable in the clothes that I wear, I feel so comfortable with the bed that I sleep in, I am so flattered by the respect that you give me and so fascinated by the power you allow me… to be close you … that I come here every day to touch this old tunic to make sure that I do Remember…

WHO I AM AND WHERE I CAME FROM.


We must never forget who we are and where we come from; life turns and we can always return to the same place.

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THE IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE
A philosophy professor stood before his class with some items on the table in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, about 2 inches in diameter.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up the remaining open areas of the jar.

He then asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “Yes.”

“Now,” said the professor, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important things – your family, your partner, your health, your children – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter – like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else, the small stuff.”

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take your partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party, or fix the disposal.”

“Take care of the rocks first – the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

BEYOND THE QUOTE: The three dolls.

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THE THREE DOLLS

A sage presented a prince with a set of three small dolls. The prince was not amused.

“Am I a girl that you give me dolls?” – He asked.

“This is a gift for a future king,” Said the sage. “If you look carefully, you’ll see a hole in the ear of each doll.”

The sage handed him a piece of string. “Pass it through each doll.” – He said.

Intrigued, the prince picked up the first doll and put the string into the ear. It came out from the other ear. “This is one type of person,” said the sage, “whatever you tell him, comes out from the other ear. He doesn’t retain anything.”

The prince put the string into the second doll. It came out from the mouth. “This is the second type of person,” said the sage, “whatever you tell him, he tells everybody else.”

The prince picked up the third doll and repeated the process. The string did not come out. “This is the third type of person,” said the sage, “whatever you tell him is locked up within him. It never comes out.”

“What is the best type of person?” – Asked the prince.

The sage handed him a fourth doll, in answer. When the prince put the string into the doll, it came out from the other ear.

“Do it again.” – Said the sage.

The prince repeated the process. This time the string came out from the mouth. When he put the string in a third time, it did not come out at all.

“This is the best type of person,” said the sage. “To be trustworthy, a man must know when not to listen, when to remain silent and when to speak out.”

How can we be HAPPY?

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HOW CAN WE BE HAPPY?

Once a group of 50 people was attending a seminar. Suddenly the speaker stopped and decided to do a group activity. He started giving each one a balloon. Each one was asked to write his/her name on it using a marker pen. Then all the balloons were collected and put in another room.

Now these delegates were let in that room and asked to find the balloon which had their name written, within 5 minutes. Everyone was frantically searching for their name, colliding with each other, pushing around others and there was utter chaos.

At the end of 5 minutes no one could find their own balloon. Now each one was asked to randomly collect a balloon and give it to the person whose name was written on it. Within minutes everyone had their own balloon.

The speaker began— exactly this is happening in our lives. Everyone is frantically looking for happiness all around, not knowing where it is.
Our happiness lies in the happiness of other people. Give them their happiness; you will get your own happiness.
And this is the purpose of human life.
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Jonathan, Buhari, Nigeria.

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I pledge to NIGERIA my country…

“…Nigerians, lend me ur ears. For I have come to bury Buhari not to praise him…”

Lol. I deliberately misquoted Shakespeare (Julius Ceaser) to make a point. A week or so ago, the APC picked as their aspirant for the 2015 presidential elections, Retired Major General Muhammadu Buhari. I won’t go into his precedents or his antecedents. Hehehe.

Since then, a lot of things have been said about the former military general on Blogs and social media networks. I have read with a little bit of amusement and a lot of trepidation some of the arguments for and against the man. One channel I follow on bbm actually was mischievous enough to doctor an old photograph (pictured here) with the aim of convincing us the man isn’t good for the country. The reactions were of cos predictable. A few people said he promised to make the Jonathan administration “ungovernable” and is therefore the Boko Haram sponsor. Some say he’s an “islamist” and too “rigid” and will make Nigeria a Sharia nation. The adage “the devil you know…” appears more often than is comfortable and I get the feeling that 2015 will be interesting.

I don’t know the man and I am not interested in him (call me lazy lol) but I do know his previous stint as a military president marked him as extremely disciplined. Has discipline now become a bad thing?
They say he will turn us to a Sharia state and I laugh. Only the criminally minded have something to fear from a law that imposes tough sanctions on crime.
They say he’s old (like that is a crime) and I have to wonder what age and performance have in common.

I’m not asking you to vote him, I’m asking you to vote right. Personally,I had reached the stage where I thought a change was the only way to avoid anarchy. What kind of country has no court that works? Is it just me or has anyone else noticed that a lot of foreign investors are moving to Ghana & South Africa? Has anyone else noticed how the Ghanian cedes is suddenly almost at par with the dollar (where formally, 146 cedes bought #1)? Have you noticed that our health sector is a joke as anyone and everyone now fly out for minor ailments? (Oo◦°˚ didn’t the first lady almost die in Germany? And didn’t a former first lady die while undergoing a liposuction in Spain?) Have we not hospitals here? Has anyone else noticed that our EFCC is no longer effective (if they ever where- Farouk Lawan/ Otedola, Stella Odua, to mention a few). How come we as an oil producing nation import fuel? Why do we not trust in our police and army to protect us? Even our education system, does it work? For crying out loud it is 2014 and we still scream “UP NEPA!” when power is restored (speaking of which how come we have to generate our own power?). So what works in Nigeria right now? Please tell me I’m curious. Our current president repeatedly blames some nameless elements within his cabinet for every ill yet Mr. President the buck stops with you. You are our supreme commander, our defender, our shepherd. How come you haven’t defended us? Why haven’t you brought those people to justice? Why is this administration synonymous with corruption (money laundering is just one instance here). Senators, our own representatives behaving like touts…? The president has repetedly refused to declare his assets (which Buhari has done) and did say in one interview that he “doesn’t give a damn”. I will stop here. You see my job here wasn’t to castigate but to balance. If you perhaps know something this administration has done right, please comment. Cos I can’t think of one right now.

Anyways I have come to bury Buhari. Not to praise him.
Is he a Muslim, YES. Is that bad? No evidence exists to prove it is. (Lagos state governor, Fashola is a Muslim and has my unreserved admiration for what he in 8 years achieved in Lagos).
Maybe we don’t want a change. Maybe “business as usual” is the way for some of us. Not for me tho. And no. Before y’al castigate me, I’m not putting all the blame on president GEJ. He inherited the mess. He just failed to leave it smelling like rose. I’m all for change. I’m all for what ever will benefit not just us but our children.
As 2015 approaches, let’s not cast our votes because he’s a “Christian” or because he’s “our brother”. Let us vote because “He is competent”. Let us no longer vote sob stories. Believe me none of them really care about us. Let us vote excellence. And change. Let us vote with our heads this time not our hearts.

Finally, it is possible that a Nigeria divided is a better Nigeria. Go read up on the former USSR. But so long as we exist as one country, an entity indivisible, let us remember the words of the pledge. A vow we continuously make. Let us make this vow with all seriousness as we remember those who have gone trying to make Nigeria a better place.

“I pledge to Nigeria my country,
To be faithful, loyal & honest,
To serve Nigeria with all my strength,
To defend her unity,
And uphold her honor & glory,
So help me God”.

God bless the Federal republic of Nigeria.
Pious. Dec. 14

BEYOND THE QUOTE!

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JUDO WITH ONE ARM

A 10-year-old boy decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident. The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn’t understand why, after three months of training the master had taught him only one move.“Sensei,”(Teacher in Japanese) the boy finally said, “Shouldn’t I be learning more moves?” “This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you’ll ever need to know,” the sensei replied. Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.

Several months later, the sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals. This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched.

Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the sensei intervened. “No,” the sensei insisted, “Let him continue.” Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion. On the way home, the boy and sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind.

“Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?”

“You won for two reasons,” the sensei answered. “First, you’ve almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.” The boy’s biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.


“Our strength grows out of our weaknesses.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

We all have weaknesses and if you’re anything like me then you’re afraid they’ll lead to your failure right? I’ve learned over the years though, that with the right mindset those weaknesses can be turned into strengths. Think about it: If you develop the mindset that weaknesses aren’t really weaknesses, you’ve just broken through your limitations and fears!

So what do you think your weaknesses are? Are they keeping you from starting something new, from pursuing a dream? Take a minute to think about what you’ve always wanted to do, or what you’re doing now. What are your fears? What do you perceive to be your weaknesses? What are your limitations, and what’s holding you back?

Now that I’ve started you on the path to thinking about your weaknesses, let me give you a sure fire way to turn them into strengths, and all it involves are the numbers 1, 2, 3!

1: Examine your weaknesses.
2: Figure out your strengths.
3: Figure out how to move your weaknesses into the strengths column.

Let me give you a couple of examples:

Not a good writer? Be a people person instead. If you can’t write a great proposal, make it in person. If you can’t write a great report, do a presentation.

You aren’t fast. So be deliberate. Be more thorough. Be more thoughtful. Work on important stuff instead of cranking out a lot of stuff.

Not a people person? So work on brilliant stuff alone. Find your niche and make amazing stuff with the talents you have.

If you’re not organized (I’m guilty of that!) then simplify things so you don’t need to organize (if you only have a few things, you don’t need to organize them). Be a creative genius instead of a diligent organized person.

BEYOND THE QUOTE

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BEYOND THE QUOTE!

Who Packs your Parachute ?

Charles Plumb was a US Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane as destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, “You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!”“How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb.“ I packed your parachute,” the man replied.

Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!” Plumb assured him, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Plumb couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, “I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said Good morning, how are you?’ or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.”

Plumb thought of the man hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, “Who’s packing your parachute?” Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory-he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.


Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachute.

Beyond the Quote (Thinking outside the box)

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Yhello… Long time no post. I’ll be running a new series simply captioned “beyond the post”. It is lesson filled. Enjoy.

A friend sent me this story & it will be today’s Beyond the quote.

Thinking “Out of the Box”

Many hundreds of years ago in a small Italian town, a merchant had the misfortune of owing a large sum of money to the moneylender.
The moneylender, who was old and ugly, fancied the merchant’s beautiful
daughter so he proposed a bargain. He said he would forgo the merchant’s debt if he could marry the daughter.

Both the merchant and his daughter were horrified by the proposal. The moneylender told them that he would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty bag. The girl would then have to pick one pebble from the bag.If she picked the black pebble, she would become the moneylender’s wife and her father’s debt would be forgiven. If she picked the white pebble she need not marry him and her father’s debt would still be forgiven. But if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into jail.

They were standing on a pebble strewn path in the merchant’s garden. As they talked, the moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles. As he picked them up, the sharp-eyed girl noticed that he had picked up two black pebbles and put them into the bag. He then asked the girl to pick her pebble from the bag.

What would you have done if you were the girl? If you had to advise her, what would you have told her? Careful analysis would produce three possibilities:
1. The girl should refuse to take a pebble.
2. The girl should show that there were two black pebbles in the bag and expose the moneylender as a cheat.
3. The girl should pick a black pebble and sacrifice herself in order to save her father from his debt and imprisonment.

The above story is used with the hope that it will make us appreciate the difference between lateral and logical thinking.

The girl put her hand into the moneybag and drew out a pebble. Without looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said. “But never mind, if you look into the bag for the one
that is left, you will be able to tell which pebble I picked.”
Since the remaining pebble is black, it must be assumed that she had picked the white one. And since the moneylender dared not admit his dishonesty, the girl changed what seemed an impossible situation into an advantageous one.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Most complex problems do have a solution, sometimes we have to think about them in a different way.

Tips for winning Gold Streak

Eager Zebra Blog

h-goldstreak-2OVERVIEW

In Gold Streak, your objective is to correctly guess the most and least popular answers to survey questions.  Build one of the longest streaks of correctly-answered questions for the day, and you’ll win a share of the daily Gold Streak Zackpot, and earn cool badges, too!

Play for just one TCredit. No purchase necessary to win.

Enter to play Gold Streak at:

http://www.tripleclicks.com/games/GoldStreak.php

You can also play Gold Streak in conjunction with our broader “Streakasphere” contest where you can compete for the longest day-to-day streak.  Details on Streakasphere below.

ROUNDS

There are three rounds of questions. Each time you guess the correct answer, your streak will advance by one and your stack of “gold coins” on the right will get grow taller.

In the first (“bronze”) round, you will be presented with five randomly-chosen survey questions.  For each question, your objective is to guess which of two answers was…

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#BeyondTheQuote

BEYOND THE QUOTE

Got a story for you that is going to make you reach out and give your loved ones a massive hug. Make sure you leave a comment!

MOTHER’S DAY

A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away.

As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing.

He asked her what was wrong and she replied, “I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother and I don’t have enough money.”

The man smiled and said, “Come on in with me. I’ll buy you a rose.”

He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother’s flowers.

As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home. She said, “Yes, please! You can take me to my mother.”

She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.

The man returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother’s house.


Don’t take your loved ones for granted – cherish the time you have with them.
http://vzturl.com/asm66

http://vzturl.com/asm66

life of a nigerian engineering student 1

THE OBJECTIVE NIGERIAN

congratulations,you have just being admitted to study engineering in a nigerian university. You are happy ,you will be spending the next 5years after which you will be called an engineer.you have finally finished registration and your journey as an engineering student is set to begin.

Its 7;30,you have finish taking your bath.you join the art students in wearing a suit and knoting a tie. And heading for lectures.you look around and discover you are the only engineering student dressing in co-operate.shortely after,the lab attendant gives you a lab overall foor protection. You are asked to remove your pointed shoe and put on a mighty boot.
You look around, you are in a small room without fan and aircondition along with with over 70 students. You are really sweating.

FIRST LESSON LEARNT ;THY SHALL NOT BE ON CO-OPERATE TO CLASS

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Tips For Winning Time Machine 1/12/15

Eager Zebra Blog

The January 12, 2015 Time Machine contest features the following question:

How many times will the word “euro” appear in World News at 4pm CT Feb 25, 2015?

Source: http://www.newsnow.co.uk/h/World+News/Europe

iStock_000027937176_SmallIf you have access to an actual time machine, simply travel to February 25th and retrieve the answer.  If not, here are some tips to help ascertain the correct answer:

1. Go HERE.

2. Use the “find” option on your Web browser (in Safari it’s Command-F), enter the word “euro” and see how many times it finds the word on the page.

3. Do this daily to get an idea of how many times the word appears each day.  Once you feel you know, make your entry.

Note: Any word or name that contains “euro” also counts.  Examples: words like “European” or articles from the Voice Of Europe.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Q: When does this contest start?
A: You can make your first entry…

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