I Was Only Nine Years Old When My Teacher Gave Me A Reputation To Live Up To: Worst Kid In The World.
Careful What You Say—Especially To Kids…
Your Words Could Make A Huge Difference In Someone’s Life, For Better Or For Worse.
Written by Rich Harshaw.
Note: About once a month, Monopolize Your Marketplace takes a break from contractor marketing advice and focuses on personal development topics. We call this ongoing series “Personal Edge.” Enjoy!
I’m either allergic to AC/DC, the rock band, or celery. I’m not quite sure which.
On February 2, 1982, my parents inexplicably let me go to an AC/DC concert with my older brother at Reunion Arena in Dallas. By today’s parenting standards, this would have been a Top-10-All-Time-Worst-Parenting-Decision worthy of a CPS custody hearing. But the early ‘80s were a different era; specifically, one of parenting naivety. Nancy Reagan hadn’t implored anyone to “Just Say No” yet. We didn’t even have cable, so we were still watching Brady Bunch and Leave It To Beaver reruns, not MTV. Apparently it never occurred to my parents that an AC/DC concert might be a marijuana-fest of epic proportions for most of the 15,000+ crazed teenagers in attendance.
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It’s Pioneer Day! (Really!) Do You Have The Courage To Put Your Shoulder To The Wheel?
Here’s A Little Challenge For You. Don’t Worry, You Can Do It!
Written by Rich Harshaw.
Note: About once a month, Monopolize Your Marketplace takes a break from contractor marketing advice and focuses on personal development topics. We call this ongoing series “Personal Edge.”
What a difference a day can make. Just 24 hours.
Read the two journal entries below from an 1856 Mormon handcart pioneer and you’ll see what I mean:
“Suffice it to say that all the disgusting scenes which the reader might imagine would certainly not equal the terrible reality. It was enough to make the heavens weep. The recollection of it unmans me even now.”
-John Chislett, Monday, October 20, 1856
“Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness.”
-John Chislett, Tuesday, October 21, 1856
You may not know this, but every year people of the Mormon faith celebrate “Pioneer Day” on July 24th; it’s a time to commemorate Brigham Young’s first arrival into the Salt Lake valley on July 24, 1847, and to honor the commitment, courage, and sacrifice of all the early pioneers who followed him there. In Utah, it’s an official state holiday; Mormons in other parts of the world don’t get the day off, but still make an effort to remember and celebrate their Mormon heritage.
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Are You Giving The Most To Those Who The Most? Or Are Your Priorities Out Of Whack?
Streaking Isn’t Just For Naked Hippies Anymore! You Can Do It Too!
A Fun & Unusual Strategy For Getting Stuff Done In 2014
Written by Rich Harshaw
Note: About once a month, Monopolize Your Marketplace takes a break from contractor marketing advice and focuses on personal development topics. We call this ongoing series “Personal Edge.” Enjoy!
Nothing beats an ice cold Dr. Pepper on a hot afternoon.
Or on a cold afternoon for that matter. Come to think of it, nothing beats an ice cold Dr. Pepper on just about any kind of afternoon. At least that’s what I used to think until my oldest son, Sam—just 4 years old at the time—came home from preschool one day where he’d apparently learned to “just say no” to drugs. The dialogue went something like this:
Sam: Do you know what’s in Dr. Pepper?
Me: No, Sam. What’s in Dr. Pepper?
Sam: Caffeine.
Me: Really?
Sam: Yea. And do you know what caffeine is?
Me: No, Sam. What is caffeine?
Sam: It’s a DRUG.
Me: Oh my.
Sam: Do you know what happens when you take drugs?
Me: No, what?
Sam: You DIE.
Me: (no comment)
Hardcore stuff for a preschooler. But I guess he had reason to be concerned. Follow the logic: Drugs will kill you; Dr. Pepper contains a drug called caffeine; dad drinks about seven Dr. Peppers a day; dad is going to die soon.
Those of you who have children will understand that any attempt to explain away the differences between Dr. Pepper and, say, heroin, would prove to be fruitless. So I did what any good dad would do—I quit.
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