Panic Attack

Here is your Tuesday STORY on: SELF DEVELOPMENT: Can we ever be sure of making the right decision? Whenever one is asked to improve oneself, you would be perfectly correct in assuming that any knowledge gained, would also extend your skill and judgement in making decisions. QUOTE: 'If you motivate an idiot with enthusiasm, all you get is a motivated idiot. You need to educate first.' (Jim Rohn) To self develop in any manner whatsoever we must therefore be aware that education is a much needed ingredient. We must also be aware that there are dozens of opportunities each day to advance our knowledge, but often they simply pass us by. Instead of puffing and panting and being troubled by your daily events we need to see our day as invigorating and challenging. If we remain positive there is little that would stop our stride. Yet on the other hand if we become negative our 'today' follows the same pattern as yesterday. So the reality to study is that if we don't continually self develop; each day will be the same. Perhaps a few different situations along the way but we fall back into the same old thought pattern that never resolves anything. We must remember therefore to expect a new challenge each and every day, wait in anticipation and be invigorated by its attendance. In being positive we SEE the opportunities arise. Today's story illustrates an important event that helped educate. From this knowledge a greater understanding of compassion; plus the importance of living in the NOW became tools that were never forgotten. DARYLE, I'VE GOT A BUNCH OF THEM They were in all different sizes, ranks and poses. They were even on different sides. They were miniature Revolutionary War soldiers made out of pewter. They were well-crafted and amazing things to see. They were given to me and I took them, without even mumbling a "much obliged." My older cousin, Daryle, had given them to me. Daryle was all dressed up in his army uniform. He looked even more impressive than the little soldiers. I didn't really want the little soldiers he offered me, but I took them. Daryle was older that I was and, as my elder, he deserved some respect. I was at that awkward age when it came to such things. I was too old to play with the small troops and too young to really appreciate them. The only material things I was interested in at that age were my baseball glove, my GE transistor radio with the earplugs and my dream car, that I would be much too young to drive, even if I could afford to buy it. My mother always told me that a person can never be too thankful. Even with that wonderful instruction, I had neglected to thank Daryle for the little soldiers. I wish my mother had taken them from me, along with my old comic books and baseball cards, and told me that she would give them back to me when I turned 30, in the hopes that I would have developed a brain by then. I had a Springfield single-shot .22 rifle. I wanted to practice with it. Daryle had shown me his marksmanship badge and I thought maybe I could earn myself one of those one day. He was plenty proud of that badge and told me that it had taken a lot of practice to get it. A decent target cost good money and I wasn't much of a hunter, so the little soldiers were the perfect prey for me. I set the little army men up on a rock pile and then began picking them off one-by-one with my Springfield rifle. The shooting did wonders for my marksmanship, but it didn't do the little pewter figures much good. Soon they were all gone -- shot to pieces -- yet another item tossed upon my life's scrap heap. Time passed. I had forgotten all about the tiny pewter soldiers until I received word that Daryle had been killed in Vietnam. The day he gave me the little soldiers was the last day I was to ever see Daryle alive. He left a wife and two young children. I wanted to bring Daryle back. I wanted to bring those little army men back. I never did thank Daryle for those little soldiers. Perhaps playing with the little soldiers is what made Daryle want to make the Army his career. I will never know. Since that day that I learned of Daryle's death, I try very hard to thank everyone for everything. Sometimes I forget, but I try real hard. Some years ago, I made a trip to Washington, DC, and visited the Vietnam Memorial. I was going to make rubbings of Daryle's name on the Memorial Wall, keeping one for myself and giving the rest to a number of my aunts. I was doing okay at this task until a little blond haired girl, wearing a white dress, put a flower at the base of a row of names. This little girl, probably the grandchild of one of the deceased, brought back a flood of memories for me. She caused me to give much thought to Daryle and some to those little Revolutionary War soldiers made out of pewter, as I stood by that Wall. I cried as I made a rubbing of Daryle's name from that Wall of names of people who died doing their duty in the jungles of a foreign land. It took me a number of attempts before I was able to finish making the rubbings. I never thanked Daryle for the little pewter soldiers. I never thanked Daryle for serving this country well, for being willing to die for all of us back home. For some reason, I know that whenever I thank a veteran, that Daryle hears me and understands that I am thanking him, too. (Al Batt) QUOTE: "If you don't have a vision for the future, then your future is threatened to be a repeat of the past.' (A. R. Bernard, Clergyman) [[ct]]: Panic Attack

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