Wish I'd Said It

Weeds are flowers too - once you get to know them.

- A. A. Milne

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Making A Difference

When the last page is turned in your life’s book and the reviews start to come in, what do you want them to say?

Good parent? Fine son? Great worker? Pillar of society? Excellent writer? Told great jokes?

Worthy accolades, all. But rendered down, I believe the essence of a life well-lived is knowing you made a difference - that the ripples of your passage affected others in a positive way.

Never pass up an opportunity to comfort someone in pain. Keep compliments handy and don’t be shy about doling them out. Layer a slice of honesty with the icing of tact. Gift the lonely with your presence. Listen.

Risk opening your heart - the potential gain is worth the possibility of pain. Keep your mind open too - something good might build a nest in there and the crap will eventually find its way out.

Pay attention to children and the elderly - the former know what you’ve forgotten and the latter know what you’ve yet to learn.

Help someone feel better about themself today. Repeat every day.

That’s all that really matters.


Anonymous said...

"Help someone feel better about themself today. Repeat every day."

Mission accomplished.. thanks ;)

Anonymous said...

"Help someone feel better about themself today. Repeat every day."
Yes. I also liked this sentence and I wish I could implement it in my own life too.
If you have time, please go through my short post titled,

Saving Indian farmers from committing
suicide. Many of these farmers commit
suicide for a loan of even less than $2000.

Frank Baron said...

You're welcome anonymous. :)

razib, thanks for stopping by. I'll have a look at your post. :)

Mark Pettus said...

Good stuff, hoss.

When I die, I hope they say, "Damn, one cheerleader maybe, but at his age - the whole squad?"

Live well, laugh often, love much.

Anonymous said...

I wish, just for one day, that this post could be on the front page of every newspaper in the world. Important news for once, rather than blood-spattered headlines.

Frank Baron said...

Mark, good words to live by.

Kira, thanks so much for your lovely comment. It made my day. :)

Bhaswati said...

Great post, Frank. Glad you shared it :)

I also came to let you know that I am adding you to my blogroll. Wouldn't mind if you reciprocated :P.

I am Sury from AW. Do visit my blog when you can :).

Wendy Gunderson said...

Hi Frank...this is something that should be mind melded into everyone on the planet. Pure wisdom beautifully put.. especially the risk of opening your heart...truth and beauty.

Frank Baron said...

Hi baswhati - thanks for stopping by. I'll check out your blog for sure. :)

Wendy, thanks so much. I appreciate it. :)

rich said...

Will do.

Kelster said...


Lisa Romeo said...

Your words were so very appropriate to me right now...my 80-year-old parents are just wrapping up a 3-week visit w/me, hubby and my 2 kids, ages 8 and 12. Despite close living quarters, sometimes flared tempers and whining over what's for dinner, I got to see, up close, how much the two book-ended generations have in common (slowing down, enjoying a laugh, doing nothing to perfection), and how much they need each other and what I could learn from both. Thanks for the double reminder, as I prepare to put my folks on a plane, and send them "home" 3,000 miles away for a year. Blessings. I enjoy your blog, stop by mine if you like.

Frank Baron said...

Hiya Rich. Hiya Kels. :)

Yep Coolshoes, it's the circle of life thing isn't it? I'll be happy to drop by your blog. Thanks for the visit. :)

Esther Avila said...

That was beautiful, thanks Frank.

Frank Baron said...

Thanks Esther. :)

Mac said...

Hey, everyone! Frank's quitting smoking!

You go, fella. If I can quit, (and I didn't want to, either) then you can.

Nice post. *smile* Thanks!

Frank Baron said...

Sshh Mac! Only a few hundred people know! ;)

Esther Avila said...

I guess a few thousand people know now. LOL
Good luck, Frank!

Shwebb said...

Frank, what I like most about your writings and musings is that you put yourself all out there, and I see such a gentle tenderness within your writing. Or a tender gentleness? Oh, heck! It was beautiful. I'm holding your hope for you on the not-smoking thing.