2013, ISBN: 9781847725097
Paperback
Baker Publishing Group. Very Good. 5.5 x 0.48 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2003. 192 pages. <br>In a world filled with both prosperity and poverty , how can Christians handle their fina… More...
Baker Publishing Group. Very Good. 5.5 x 0.48 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2003. 192 pages. <br>In a world filled with both prosperity and poverty , how can Christians handle their finances in a way that honors G od? In How Much Is Enough?, Arthur Simon takes an uncompromising look at America's wealth, reflecting what dominates the hearts an d motivations of its people. He diagnoses Western civilization as sick with affluenza, or runaway materialism, and shows readers h ow to reject the disease and set new priorities. Churches, social ministry groups, and thoughtful readers will be enlightened by S imon's grasp of Western affluence against the backdrop of a world where 800 million people are chronically starving. Readers will gain a clearer understanding of how money becomes an object of wo rship when passion for material things is stronger than compassio n for the poor. Simon's life-changing book also reveals how afflu enza takes control of people's lives and goals. Without discounti ng prosperity as a blessing, How Much Is Enough? proposes new pat hways to living as disciples of Jesus. It suggests a myriad of so lutions for taming materialism and sheds light on the profound re ality that possessions may capture our hearts, but they are unabl e to nourish our souls. Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekl y Why is it that in the face of unprecedented prosperity, so many of us feel discontented? asks Simon, founder and past president of Bread for the World. In this hard-hitting and well-written boo k, Simon encourages North American Christians to examine how thei r materialistic culture has stunted their compassion and driven a wedge between themselves and God. Drawing on writers such as Ric hard Foster, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Johann Christoph Arnold, Sim on speaks compellingly of the poverty of riches and the weakness of power. This book does not make simplistic arguments about mone y being evil, but instead cautions about what money can do to cor rupt people if they are not vigilant and rooted in God's kingdom. One especially insightful chapter explores the titular question of how much is enough, arguing that while there are no easy formu las, there are strong reasons for Christians to stay behind the J oneses. This book stands with others by Tom Sine, Ronald Sider an d Tony Campolo in arguing that social responsibility is just as i mportant a value for Christians as personal holiness. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. From the Back Cover Why, in the face of unprecedented affluence, do so many feel discontente d? Because possessions may capture the heart, but they cannot nou rish the soul. How Much Is Enough? maintains that only the source of joy can give us joy. It points the way to release from captiv ity to things and to the joy of following Christ. This is one of the easiest books you will ever read-and one of the most difficu lt. Though there is not a word here that will be unintelligible t o anyone, the challenge that Art Simon presents to every reader w ill leave you gasping for breath at times and at other times may prompt you to hurl the book across the room. Within the context o f the United States of America at the beginning of the twenty-fir st century, this book may even strike some as a kind of obscenity -how dare he speak to us this way? It is, in fact, a sign of cont radiction for our age, the very thing we don't want to know about , the only way that can bring us peace. Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, The Gifts of the Jews, and Desi re of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus Di rect, concrete, deeply rooted, and compelling. Walter Brueggeman n, Columbia Theological Seminary Art Simon deepens our trust in God's bountiful grace and thereby empowers us to apportion our we alth more openhandedly. Share this book with everyone you know-th e world can't wait for justice! Marva J. Dawn, author of Unfetter ed Hope: A Call to Faithful Living in an Affluent Society Art Si mon invites us to a new way of living that, freed from the shackl es of consumption, is the way of gratitude and generosity. And he leaves it up to each of us to think through, and pray through, e xactly what that means for us. Richard John Neuhaus, editor in ch ief, First Things Superb. The distilled wisdom of a lifetime of faithful obedience and creative leadership. If American Christian s would truly read and understand this powerfully simple book, th e result would be a cascading abundance of joy and justice. Ronal d J. Sider, president, Evangelicals for Social Action Arthur Sim on is founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World and a uthor of The Politics of World Hunger, Bread for the World, and G race at the Table: Ending Hunger in God's World. About the Autho r Arthur Simon is the founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World, a nonpartisan citizens' hunger lobby. His books inclu de Bread for the World, a national Religious Book Award winner; T he Politics of World Hunger, coauthored with his brother, former Illinois senator Paul Simon; and most recently Grace at the Table : Ending Hunger in God's World. Simon lives in Colmar Manor, Mary land. ., Baker Publishing Group, 2003, 3, Dogwise Publishing. Very Good. 5.56 x 0.36 x 8.48 inches. Paperback. 2005. 118 pages. <br>Practical how-to instructions on feeding the popul ar raw food diet from the Australian veterinarian who has made it his life's work to improve the health of our canine companions t hrough raw feeding. Customize the diet for your dog's needs. Edi torial Reviews Review What a magnificent piece of writing ? it's real skill to write as simply and clearly as that. -- Mark O'Con nor, www.australianpoet From the Publisher ItÃ's the book ev ery dog's been waiting for. Dog owners will be thrilled with the clear, entertaining style and cheeky illustrations that convey th e information dogs have been trying to tell us for years. From t he Author Sometimes a lucky coincidence or chance encounter helps throw new light on an old situation. ThatÃ's what happened to me . Finally, after five years at veterinary school and fifteen year s as a qualified vet, I saw that processed foods do immense harm and natural foods work wonders for the health of dogs and other c arnivores. At first I was aghast at the magnitude of my mistake , but then was uplifted. Here was the answer to so many of the pr oblems facing my patients. If you own an adult dog that you fee d on canned or packaged food, now is the time to make a change. I f you have a young puppy then starting him or her on a more natur al diet should work wonders. HereÃ's wishing you and your canin e companions the best of good health, Tom Lonsdale About the Author Veterinarian and raw meaty bones activist Tom Lonsdale was born in the UK in 1949, graduated from the Royal Veterinary Coll ege, University of London in 1972 and now lives in Sydney, Austra lia. Tom writes articles and gives talks helping people to improv e their petsÃ' health using the methods perfected by Nature. Abo ut the Author Veterinarian and raw meaty bones activist Tom Lonsd ale was born in the UK in 1949, graduated from the Royal Veterina ry College, University of London in 1972 and now lives in Sydney, Australia. Tom writes articles and gives talks helping people to improve their petsÃ' health using the methods perfected by Natur e. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chap ter 4 - Switching, grinding, breeding Switching to raw food Feed ing raw meaty bones works wonders for the health of dogs. But get ting started, overcoming your fears can be a trifle unnerving. We Ã've all heard the bad press about dogs choking on bones, the vet bills associated with the perforation of a dogÃ's bowel and the nasty bacteria said to lurk in every mouthful of raw food. We don Ã't want to do our pets even the slightest harm. Besides we have a self-image to preserve. We donÃ't want to appear reckless, flou ting conventions and open to ridicule. Relax, wipe the sweat fr om your brow and dry your palms. Switching your petÃ's diet is th e most important thing you can do to promote health, vitality and longevity. Happily most dogs are in touch with their inner wolf and seize on the first juicy bone you offer. Some dogs, though, a ddicted to the commercial offerings, may take a bit of persuading . LetÃ's assume your dog is relatively young, has no major/pain ful problems with teeth and gums (see Chapter 7) and hitherto has been fed a commercial or home cooked diet. The first question th en becomes: Do you introduce changes gradually or switch the diet abruptly? I recommend that, if possible, you make a complete c hange without any lead-up. Simply stop the old diet and start the new. At first itÃ's best to choose and stick with one food sourc e until the change over has been completed successfully. Whole ch ickens or chicken backs and frames make a good initial meal for a ll sizes of dog. Simply throw the items on the ground and watch y our pet sniff, lick and finally seize the morsels. You may feel t he urge to hover for the first few feeding sessions. Try to hover at a distance and so avoid crowding your pet. After about a we ek feeding chicken or other chosen food and providing there are n o digestive upsets you can introduce a variety of other large raw meaty bones and carcasses. Allow a week or so to introduce each new food item before moving on to the next. What if your dog ha s become addicted to junk food and you have become habituated to feeding the addiction? Often a 24-hour fast makes a big differenc e. Resist the temptation to provide a snack of kibble or canned m ush. Simply remove all food for 24 hours. The next day, your some what confused and hungry pet will be more willing to investigate the strange new offering. If this strategy fails we need to think again. Switching fussy dogs For some people the smell, even th e thought, of certain foods turns their stomach. Food aversion af fects dogs too. For instance if a dog is stung by a bee as he or she eats a chicken carcass or suffers stomach pains associated wi th a meal of chicken, then aversion to chicken may result. Genera lly, though, itÃ's not a bad experience but lack of experience th at makes dogs refuse new tastes and textures. Switching the die t of fussy dogs may take a bit of ingenuity using a combination o f methods. Like wolves, dogs cope with hunger surprisingly well. ItÃ's not unkind to let hunger be your principal tool. Fat dogs c an be fasted for lengthy periods without ill effect ? even severa l weeks. Lean dogs can go without food for long periods too. But two or three days of no rations usually works just fine. If the c hicken frames are not eaten after an hour, simply return them to the refrigerator until the next day. By the third day your hungry hound will be following your every move ? and be a willing parti cipant in the experiment. Do your dogs come to the rattle of dr y kibble? Does your dog like to catch tasty morsels, or retrieve the ball? A little teasing and deception, for honorable reasons, may do the trick. Rattle the bowl, but toss small pieces of meat instead. You might try chopping some chicken meat and mixing it w ith familiar food; gradually increasing the proportions of chicke n over a few days and then substituting with large pieces of chic ken on the bone. You might try smearing canned food or crushed ki bble onto raw meaty bones. Do you have a small dog and do you f eed cooked human food? Some small dogs may need their chicken lig htly grilled. After an introductory period grill the meat less to the point where itÃ's completely raw. Once your dog gets the ide a that raw meat tastes good he or she will soon delight in rippin g meat and crunching bones. Persistence pays. Do not give up on s mall dogs. Raw food is essential for them. They need more tooth c leaning, not less. Once a dog relishes the taste of raw chicken graduating to other raw meaty bones and offal is usually straigh tforward. However, if a new item creates resistance then try a da y or two of fasting. I wish you luck and mention a couple of exce ptions ? raw feeding is not a mechanical process, we need to stay in touch with the realities of Nature. There are dogs that would rather starve than eat what is otherwise wholesome natural food. Some dogs relish raw fish and some dogs refuse to eat fish how ever hard you try. My own dogs eat chicken backs and frames with gusto. But much to my chagrin, when I bought some old laying-hens , with the intention of feeding them warm, feathers, guts and all , the dogs seized the newly-killed hens with a vigorous shake ? t hey made sure the hens were dead, but flatly refused to eat them. I tried plucking the hens; dismembering them; I tried everything I could think of, but still the hens went uneaten. Such is a lif e with dogs. The remaining hens lived happily ever after and la id lots of eggs to prove it. </div ., Dogwise Publishing, 2005, 3, Berrett-Koehler Publishers. Very Good. 5.56 x 0.54 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2013. 216 pages. <br>We all want to change something about ourselves: l ose weight, quit smoking, improve our finances, and so on. But ch ange is hard, even painful, and it's our nature to avoid pain. In this inspiring how-to guide, Terry Hawkins provides exactly what we need: a straightforward way to break free of old habits that hold us back and adopt new ones that move us forward. It's a proc ess Hawkins herself used to rise above poverty, abuse, and seriou s health problems. Two fictional characters--Pitman and Flipman --demonstrate two possible ways of being. As Pitman, we're trappe d in the Pit of Misery, chained to our past, a helpless victim of circumstance. As the superhero Flipman, we are powerful, courage ous, loved, successful, and able to flip negative thoughts and ha bits into positive ones. Hawkins illustrates precisely what feeli ngs, thoughts, and behaviors send us to the pit and provides a de tailed action plan for getting out of it. This wonderfully human and honest book will help you create the life you want once and f or all. Editorial Reviews Review Terry Hawkins is a positive fo rce of nature. Let her enthusiasm and optimistic approach to life 's challenges rub off on you as you turn the pages. You'll be a b etter person for having read this book. --Ken Blanchard, coauthor of The One Minute Manager and Great Leaders Grow I was about to take antidepressants to stop my spiral downward--then I was hand ed Why Wait to Be Great? I feel so empowered. It was like it was written just for me and everything I was going through. --Ishbel MacConnachie, Director of Studies, GoodStart Training College Po ssibly the best book I have read on overcoming depression, lethar gy, negative self-talk, and more. Every high school student shoul d be given a copy when he or she leaves school--skills for life. --Vivien Wornell, Social Worker/Counselor, St. George Private Hos pital About the Author Terry Hawkins is CEO of the multinational training organization People in Progress Global. In 2012, she wo n the Woman of the Year Award for Business Education from the Nat ional Association of Professional Women. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 There Are Only Two T imes in Life: Now and Too Late! We all have a story. The basic p remise of living provides us with a smorgasbord of possible oppor tunities to add to our story. We gather stories within our story, and the longer we live, the more scenes we add; thus by the end of our life we have built a story that is long, rich, and complet ely unique to us. No one else ever has or ever will have our stor y -- this is one of the most amazing miracles of life. As much a s our stories may differ, they also unite us in one common elemen t that no human being can ever avoid -- our ability to feel. Our stories trigger a variety of feelings that can either propel us f orward or keep us stifled and paralyzed in the past. We often he ar people say that it is the events and experiences of our lives that shape us into who we are, but is that really the case? Why i s it that two people can experience the same event and yet each b e affected in a completely different way? Is it the story of our life that determines our happiness, or is it the position from wh ich we view our story -- the story we tell ourselves about our st ory? Is it this interpretation that affects the decisions we make , how we feel about our life, and how we feel about those in it? Many years ago I was sitting in my office, reading through the p articipant list for the next management training program I was co nducting for one of our clients. While scrolling, I noticed a han dwritten note beside one of the names. It read: Lynn -- husband d ied four weeks ago. Lynn had participated in our sales and servic e program just over a year earlier. When the course began, we st arted introducing ourselves to one another. Eventually, it was Ly nn's turn to speak. When I asked her how she was feeling, she rep lied, Not that good! Not recalling that note, I thoughtlessly sai d, Oh, why not? It can't be that bad! Her face reddened and her e yes filled with tears, and in that moment I remembered the note. She was the one whose husband who had died four weeks earlier. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't imagine what it was like to e xperience that kind of loss. I felt so stupid and awkward for bei ng flippant. Yet despite my obvious discomfort at my faux pas, sh e responded with warmth and love. She said that she had come to t he program because she wanted to laugh again, as her recent life had been so sad, and she was happy to be here. That night, when I went to bed in my hotel room, I decided to let my imagination r un wild, without boundaries. I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose someone that close to me -- someone I loved with all my heart. I imagined myself never having that person in my life again. I fully associated with the thought. It hurt. The pain spr ead through every limb, every vein, and every heartbeat. It was a lmost too much for me to bear. Yet in the training room I had see n a woman with the courage to confront her deepest anguish and fa ce the world, allowing herself to laugh and cry as she needed to. Lynn spent the next couple of days immersing herself in the pro gram. During one particular section she actually laughed so much she cried. As she wiped away the tears, she told us how wonderful it was to be crying from happiness, not sadness. It's hard to fi nd the words to describe the special feeling of watching someone experience joy again after so much sadness. When Lynn talked abou t her husband, her entire face lit up. He was her soul mate, her lover, her everything! Before meeting him, she had spent many yea rs in an unhappy marriage. This wonderful man had finally given h er the joy that had eluded her with her first husband. Lynn told us that they had been building their dream home, and to speed th ings along financially, he had moved from his position at the Cus toms Department (where he had worked for twenty years) to take up a position as a courier. Six weeks later, he had walked into a b uilding and unknowingly inhaled the deadly bacteria for Legionnai res' disease. Ten days later, he was dead. Her mate, her lover, h er confidant, her friend, was gone. I looked at the sadness in h er eyes and felt an urgent need to take her emptiness away. I des perately wanted her to be happy, and I realized that I was respon ding to my own fears of losing those that I loved. Grief is a nec essary part of healing. By wanting Lynn to not feel her grief, I was trying to protect myself from the pain of death. We try so ha rd to run away from the really painful emotions of life, yet they must be experienced; otherwise, we can't move on. Over the next twelve months, I saw Lynn a few times at my presentations and wo rkshops. We also sent each other occasional e-mails, including on e about a monkey that made her laugh so much she got a stitch in her side! In one of those e-mails, she asked me to make a voice r ecording for her. She said she needed something from me that spok e to her -- and her alone -- to get her through the dark days. S he said, Terry, you say things that inspire me and make me feel a live. Get me out of this rut I'm in. Make me a recording that I c an play in the car when I'm feeling down. I promised her I would send it. The next time I saw Lynn was a few months later at a o ne-day workshop I was conducting. She asked about the recording, and I apologized for not sending it. I confessed that I was so ne rvous about what she might think that I hadn't gotten around to d oing it; I didn't want to embarrass myself. She reassured me, enc ouraged me, and even begged me to do it. We had a few laughs and a big hug, and I promised her I would do it by Christmas. Well, time rolled by, and I thought about that recording nearly every d ay. I kept thinking about how special Lynn was and how pathetic I was for procrastinating. But in truth, I was nervous about what others might think of what I would say. I kept asking myself what I was waiting for. Did I need my message to be perfect? Should i t be profound? And who was I to judge that anyway? I was paralyz ed with indecision just thinking about it! Then came the new year , and the phone rang. Do you know Lynn from Perth? Why, yes! I said with a touch of guilt, remembering the unfinished recording. She died last night in her sleep. Image There are only two ti mes in life: NOW and TOO LATE! I state that phrase nearly every day of my life. For the most part, I live it, because there reall y are only two times in life -- this moment, and then it's gone! If this is the case, then why do so many of us wait to be great? Why do we get so stymied by life that we become frozen? Why does it become so difficult to seize each moment with passion and cour age? Is it because we are afraid? We all get afraid at times, bu t it's sad when that fear paralyzes us and prevents us from movin g forward. This is not a message about physical death. It's a mes sage about the death we have while we're still alive. That night , I cried for Lynn, and I cried for me. I cried that I hadn't don e what she thought I was capable of doing. I cried for the fact t hat I could have made her life a little easier -- but I hadn't. W hy? Because I was afraid! Life is full of learning experiences for all of us; no one escapes. It's packed with situations that g ive us wisdom and understanding -- but what if those experiences are so painful that we get stuck in the pain and thus stop moving forward? Not more than twenty-four hours had passed when I rece ived another phone call. It was a second blow. A young man I had worked with a few weeks before -- a beautiful, talented, intellig ent twenty-one-year-old -- had been sentenced to prison for a dru g offense. Again there was sadness in my heart. I remembered the beautiful, innocent face of this young man with such a promising future. It was hard to think of him being locked away with harden ed criminals in a prison cell, all because of a few unwise choice s. A third blow came a few days later. A friend called to tell m e that his eighteen-year-old sister had tried to kill herself. Sh e had jumped off a bridge four floors high -- and survived! How d esperate must she have been to not see a way out and to make an a ttempt on her own life? I wanted to scream and yell for all thre e of them! In the course of training and presenting to thousands of audiences, I've heard endless stories about people who have b een to hell and back. I've also discovered some lessons and drawn some conclusions from these tragedies and triumphs. The biggest conclusion I've come to is this: I have yet to meet anyone who ha s had a charmed life. Every one of us has experienced something i n our life from which we still carry scars. Some of the scars are self-inflicted, and some are a result of what others have done t o us. They vary in intensity, and some are more painful than othe rs. But behind every face lies an amazing story! All of us have b een touched by life in some way, and I am reminded of this every day. Whenever I look at a stranger's face, I wonder what story th is person could tell me and what painful past lies inside. Our m ost painful memories are usually only exacerbated when we try to numb the feeling by running away. I spent many years of my life f illed with shame and anger about my past, trying to pretend that it never happened. I too have experienced dark times in which I s imply wanted to be able to erase some of those unpleasant, painfu l memories, and I also spent many of my younger years stuck in th at empty hole called What if? A woman so heartbroken, wondering why fate had dealt her such a harsh card; a young man with his wh ole future in front of him, now facing the stark reality of time in prison; a teenager so desperate to silence her pain, now confr onting her own survival. These three -- Lynn, the young drug user , and my friend's sister -- all had something in common, just as you and I probably do. What controls their destinies? How will t hese experiences affect their lives? And is the actual experience the defining moment in their lives? No! It is never the actual experience that defines us. It is how we perceive these experien ces that defines how we will live the rest of our lives. That is the defining moment! All we have is now. In each moment we are g iven the choice of how to interpret and react to each situation. Unfortunately, many of us are completely unaware that we hold the key to our own happiness -- we hold the pen that can write the n ew story of how our life can be. So let's look at some of the th ings that get in the way of this happiness and why we wait to be great. ., Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2013, 3, Scribner Paperback Fiction. Very Good. 5.25 x 0.64 x 8 inches. Paperback. 1996. 256 pages. <br>Welcome to The Club -- Golf's Valhalla -- where al l that's necessary for admission is an intense love of the game. Here you'll watch the greatest players replay their victories...a nd their defeats...as they search for golf's hidden and seemingly inaccessible meaning. Like W.P. Kinsella's Shoeless Joe -- the basis for the movie Field of Dreams -- Follow the Wind is sports fantasy at its finest and most poignant. A young man following an errant shot into the woods emerges on a totally unfamiliar golf course. The first person he encounters is the legendary Ben Hogan , feverishly practicing for something special. As Links weaves h is tale, introducing such golfing greats as Walter Hagen, Bobby J ones, Alister MacKenzie, and the famous nineteenth century Scotti sh champions Old and Young Tom Morris, he recreates the most mome ntous events in golfing history and captures the magic that has l ured millions to the fairway. For fans of Harvey Penick's books a nd for everyone who has searched for inspiration on the golf cour se, Follow the Wind offers the satisfaction of a perfect shot tha t soars for the flagstick. Editorial Reviews From Publishers We ekly Attorney Links's first novel is a sports fantasy concerning a mythical golf course that hosts all the greats in the history o f the game. Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc. Revi ew Alix Madrigal San Francisco Chronicle An...otherworldly paean to the game of golf...all put together with a winning sweetness a nd a true love for the game. Washington Post Book World A lush m agical fantasy...golf fans will relish... Harvey Penick Bo Links certainly knows his golf, and he shows it in a story that reflec ts the best the game has to offer. Robert Trent Jones [Follow th e Wind has] so cleverly captured the romance, the folklore, and t he mysticism of the game that I couldn't put it down...[it] hooke d me and I had to play the full 18! Ben Hogan The man was so sic k so long, and fought it so successfully, that I think we have fi nally discovered the secret of Jone's success. It was the strengt h of his mind. Tommy Bolt Somebody asked me once, Who's better - - Nicklaus or Hogan? Well, my answer was, I saw Nicklaus watch Ho gan practice, but I never saw Hogan watch Nicklaus practice. Abo ut the Author Bo Links is an attorney and an avid golfer and phot ographer. His pictures have been published in various magazines, including Golf Journal and GolfWeek. He lives in Mill Valley, Cal ifornia. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved . Chapter 1 Even with the benefit of hindsight it is difficult t o explain exactly how I found the place. I stumbled upon it years ago, and although the passage of time has worn down the grooves of my memory, I can still recall many of the details. I was bare ly twenty years old as I threw my clubs over my shoulder and set out for Lincoln Park Golf Course, which sits on the very northwes t tip of San Francisco. Lincoln is a little bit of a golf course, a mere freckle on the great body of the game. If it were a rubbe r band stretched to its limit, the elastic would snap at fifty-th ree hundred yards. That's all it is, just a kick-in putt compared to places like Medinah, Oakmont, and Winged Foot. They will nev er play a United States Open Championship at Lincoln Park. But th en again, those of us who have negotiated Lincoln's hills and scr aped shots off her bare lies don't care about that. The course is vivid in our memories for its tumbling terrain and its rock-hard fairways and concrete greens. Most important of all, we remember Lincoln Park because it is where we grew up. At Lincoln you can 't fly a shot in tight or watch the ball suck back to the hole. I have learned from experience that the best way to get around the place is to let your pitch shots bounce a little; you have to pu nch the thing at the flag, forcing the ball to dance the dance of a hungry rabbit, bobbing and weaving as it hops between daisies and uneven tufts of grass. The course is tucked into a seemingly forgotten corner of the City, adjacent to a quiet, middle-class residential neighborhood. I suspect the people who live along Cle ment Street, which borders a couple of Lincoln's fairways, don't care much for golf and are thankful for the wall of trees and the huge fence that work together to keep wild slices from veering i nto their living rooms. That is not to say nongolfers don't make use of the place. Lincoln is a wonderful spot for a walk and has an excellent museum, the Palace of the Legion of Honor, which fea tures the works of French impressionists and sits in the middle o f everything. It is surrounded by the tees, greens, and fairways of at least eight different holes, everything from mammoth par th rees to an intimately short par five. The highest point at Linco ln is the thirteenth tee. From there, weather permitting, a playe r can see all the way to Contra Costa County and Mount Diablo, ca tching a glimpse of downtown San Francisco and the Bay Bridge in the process. Even on the dullest of afternoons you can see the Tr ansamerica Pyramid, its thinly tapered top floors jutting above t he other skyscrapers, aimed at the clouds like a needle waiting t o be threaded so it can stitch the city's rooftops to the sky. An d from the tee at the par-three seventeenth, you don't think of t he oval green 234 yards away, puckering a bit like a temptress; t he only thing on your mind is the landmark that dominates the hor izon to the east of the tee box, the Golden Gate Bridge, looming in the distance, stately and still -- a huge, mute, inanimate mem ber of the gallery, rigid and tense in anticipation of shots to c ome. I wasn't thinking about such vistas on the day in question. All I had on my mind was teeing it up and chasing my ball over L incoln's hills, hoping to avoid her trees, hoping lightning would strike and I could shoot a score worth remembering. I was alone, so there would be no one to verify the excellence of my effort, should I be lucky enough to get hot. I didn't have a dime in my pockets, and things were always sort of laid back at Lincoln, so I cut in on the seventh hole. I selected number seven partly beca use it was the point of entry closest to my mother's home, locate d nearby on Forty-third Avenue between Anza and Balboa streets. M ore important, the seventh tee is hidden in a far-off corner of t he course, completely out of sight of the starter's window, an ex cellent place for starting a round of golf if you have no intenti on of paying a greens fee. I didn't plan on committing a major c rime here. All I wanted was a few holes, a little space, a few wh acks at the pellet. After all, a few years earlier, when I was in high school, I was here every afternoon, playing anytime I wante d by virtue of a monthly fee card I would purchase while playing fifth man on the George Washington High School golf team. The sch ool is located only five blocks away, and anyone with any brains knew how to fill out his schedule at the start of every semester: In the morning four solids (history, math, foreign language, Eng lish) followed in the afternoon by three shots of pure air (lunch , study hall, and physical education). That translated into a sch ool day that began at 8:45 A.M. and ended at half-past noon, lead ing directly to at least eighteen holes a day because we could le ave campus at lunchtime. We never worried about coming back, for our golf coach, the inimitable John Gravelmouth McGrath, signed u s out of study hall and instructed us in no uncertain terms to hi t the links instead of showing up for in-school PE. I loved golf , so this was heaven. In addition to playing, I had the good sens e to soak up the fullness of the game -- its history, its heroes, its rules, its lore. And when it came to making the little white pill dance at Lincoln Park, even a player of my limited ability had an edge: I knew the dang course like the back of my hand. Af ter high school it was on to Berkeley. I played golf -- not nearl y as often as I had in high school but often enough to keep the f lame burning inside me at the right height. While my friends were walking to lecture halls through the smell of tear gas, I was pr owling the fairways of nearby Tilden Park, another hilly course n ot unlike Lincoln. My love of the game continued to grow, with ea ch day bringing some new observation, some new discovery. My prog ress suggested that if I kept at it, I might just discover the el usive treasure that every player of my meager ability seeks: the secret of the pros. If I ever found it, I knew, I'd be home free -- Flush City, ready to bask in a lifetime of shots that went whe re they were supposed to and stopped whenever I cried out bite. The day I cut in was nothing special. The weather was dull, the s ky a blotchy wall of battleship gray, the way it is for more than three hundred days a year in that part of the city. There was no wind, and the air was muggy, which meant it was heavy. I could t ell in an instant there would be no hang time even if I hit one o n the screws. I didn't stand on ceremony. I looked down the chut e of number seven, saw an empty fairway, then slapped a three-woo d off the ground and walked onto the course as though I owned it. The ball sailed over a hill that crests 185 yards up the fairway , and I rushed after it, hoping no one was waiting on the down si de to rip off what was a pretty fair blow. I knew all about the b all hawkers who lurked over the hill on number seven; after all, only a couple of years ago I was one of them. That, in fact, is h ow I got started with all of this, for I never even played the ga me until, at the ripe age of thirteen, I borrowed a friend's wood -shafted, rusty-headed mashie and proceeded to steal an unsuspect ing customer's drive that had sailed over the very hill I have ju st described. I thought about that inauspicious beginning, but on ly for a moment. I had to get moving. Fortunately, there was no one around, and I was able to play the seventh quickly. My downhi ll wedge shot to the green bounced like a kid on a trampoline, bu t it never veered off line, stopping only twelve feet from the ho le. The putt caught the lip and fell. Birdie. I made no outward d isplay of excitement, no fist in the air, no shout to the heavens . All I wanted was to blend into the scenery and play with a natu ral ease, all the better to deflect any inquiry should someone fr om the starter's office be prowling around to check if players ha d actually registered and paid to play. Had I been thinking stra ight, I would have realized there was little reason for fear. It was early evening, and the course was almost totally deserted. I moved along, playing five more holes in relative peace. I made an easy three at the eighth, a downhill par three whose green is gu arded by bunkers. Then it was back up the hill, climbing the fair way of number nine, panting with every step. Even a good poke dow n the middle on that hole leaves a blind shot to the green, and m y drive fit the pattern perfectly. I fired a nine-iron, which lan ded safe though not really close to the hole. I escaped with par. The tenth and eleventh, two short par fours, were birdie land e ven for a player like me. I almost drove the tenth and sandwedged my ball to six feet. Drain-o. My three-wood tee shot at the elev enth drew a bit, bending its way around the corner, dribbling dow n a short slope to a decent lie near the green. All that was left was a short chip, which I hit with confidence. The ball did not respond; it seemed to have a mind of its own, bouncing in fear, s quirting off to the right. When the ball calmed down and stopped carrying on, it was eighteen feet from the hole. Not a good shot. I made up for it, though, as my putt caught the grain of the gr een and rode it as though it were a streetcar whose rails ended a t the bottom of the cup. When the putt dropped, I was three under . That's when it started to get scary. The twelfth is another di minutive par four, all of 280 yards. Even though my tee shot woun d up under the trees to the left of the fairway, I could still re ach the green with a low punch. It didn't work. I looked up on my second shot, squirreled the ball forward, and faced a tricky up- and-down for par. My third shot, a pitch caught the green and rol led up near the hole. Although I was alone, I was three under, wh ich caused me to feel the presence of a huge imagined gallery roa ring at every shot. I made the putt for par, and that convinced me, as only good rolls can, that it was my day. I began walking s lowly toward the next hole, sensing that this was a round I would long remember. If only someone were there to see it -- someone t o be my marker, someone to attest to the mastery of my effort. Th ree under after six is as good as it gets for a player like me. By the time I reached the thirteenth tee, a thick fog had rolled in. I couldn't even begin to think about seeing the East Bay hill s or downtown San Francisco or either of the bridges. I was start ing to shiver, and under the circumstances I wasn't sure if that was my nerves or the weather talking. I took stock of where I sto od: I had parred number twelve and reminded myself for the fourth or fifth time that I was still three under. It was an incredible score for me, so good that I was beginning to wonder just when t he hands of fate would wrap themselves around my neck and tighten their grip. The fog hovered around me like cotton fluff, ready t o soften my fall, but even in the mist I could make out the fairw ay. The thirteenth hole at Lincoln Park is a 495-yard roller coa ster of a par five. The fairway runs downhill from the tee, and t hen back up to a landing area; from there it slopes gently downhi ll again, all the way to the green. Despite the undulations, the hole is basically straight, and it is very, very easy. The main o bject off the tee is to carry the ball over two stands of trees t hat lie 180 yards out, bordering the fairway in clumps to the lef t and right. With a good tee ball, all a player has to do is blas t the second shot at the green and then chip and putt for a birdi e. I was staring four under right in the bloody face. I hit a pe rfect drive, and my eyes widened with delight as the ball sailed away, straight and true. The lie for my second shot was a good o ne, providing no excuse for failure. All I can say is that a sudd en, quickening wind at my back proved to be more of a temptation than my young character could resist. Convinced that I could loft one into the stratosphere, Scribner Paperback Fiction, 1996, 3, Used - Good. Ships from the UK. Former library book; may include library markings. Used book that is in clean, average condition without any missing pages., 2.5<
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Baker Publishing Group. Very Good. 5.5 x 0.48 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2003. 192 pages. <br>In a world filled with both prosperity and poverty , how can Christians handle their fina… More...
Baker Publishing Group. Very Good. 5.5 x 0.48 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2003. 192 pages. <br>In a world filled with both prosperity and poverty , how can Christians handle their finances in a way that honors G od? In How Much Is Enough?, Arthur Simon takes an uncompromising look at America's wealth, reflecting what dominates the hearts an d motivations of its people. He diagnoses Western civilization as sick with affluenza, or runaway materialism, and shows readers h ow to reject the disease and set new priorities. Churches, social ministry groups, and thoughtful readers will be enlightened by S imon's grasp of Western affluence against the backdrop of a world where 800 million people are chronically starving. Readers will gain a clearer understanding of how money becomes an object of wo rship when passion for material things is stronger than compassio n for the poor. Simon's life-changing book also reveals how afflu enza takes control of people's lives and goals. Without discounti ng prosperity as a blessing, How Much Is Enough? proposes new pat hways to living as disciples of Jesus. It suggests a myriad of so lutions for taming materialism and sheds light on the profound re ality that possessions may capture our hearts, but they are unabl e to nourish our souls. Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekl y Why is it that in the face of unprecedented prosperity, so many of us feel discontented? asks Simon, founder and past president of Bread for the World. In this hard-hitting and well-written boo k, Simon encourages North American Christians to examine how thei r materialistic culture has stunted their compassion and driven a wedge between themselves and God. Drawing on writers such as Ric hard Foster, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Johann Christoph Arnold, Sim on speaks compellingly of the poverty of riches and the weakness of power. This book does not make simplistic arguments about mone y being evil, but instead cautions about what money can do to cor rupt people if they are not vigilant and rooted in God's kingdom. One especially insightful chapter explores the titular question of how much is enough, arguing that while there are no easy formu las, there are strong reasons for Christians to stay behind the J oneses. This book stands with others by Tom Sine, Ronald Sider an d Tony Campolo in arguing that social responsibility is just as i mportant a value for Christians as personal holiness. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. From the Back Cover Why, in the face of unprecedented affluence, do so many feel discontente d? Because possessions may capture the heart, but they cannot nou rish the soul. How Much Is Enough? maintains that only the source of joy can give us joy. It points the way to release from captiv ity to things and to the joy of following Christ. This is one of the easiest books you will ever read-and one of the most difficu lt. Though there is not a word here that will be unintelligible t o anyone, the challenge that Art Simon presents to every reader w ill leave you gasping for breath at times and at other times may prompt you to hurl the book across the room. Within the context o f the United States of America at the beginning of the twenty-fir st century, this book may even strike some as a kind of obscenity -how dare he speak to us this way? It is, in fact, a sign of cont radiction for our age, the very thing we don't want to know about , the only way that can bring us peace. Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, The Gifts of the Jews, and Desi re of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus Di rect, concrete, deeply rooted, and compelling. Walter Brueggeman n, Columbia Theological Seminary Art Simon deepens our trust in God's bountiful grace and thereby empowers us to apportion our we alth more openhandedly. Share this book with everyone you know-th e world can't wait for justice! Marva J. Dawn, author of Unfetter ed Hope: A Call to Faithful Living in an Affluent Society Art Si mon invites us to a new way of living that, freed from the shackl es of consumption, is the way of gratitude and generosity. And he leaves it up to each of us to think through, and pray through, e xactly what that means for us. Richard John Neuhaus, editor in ch ief, First Things Superb. The distilled wisdom of a lifetime of faithful obedience and creative leadership. If American Christian s would truly read and understand this powerfully simple book, th e result would be a cascading abundance of joy and justice. Ronal d J. Sider, president, Evangelicals for Social Action Arthur Sim on is founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World and a uthor of The Politics of World Hunger, Bread for the World, and G race at the Table: Ending Hunger in God's World. About the Autho r Arthur Simon is the founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World, a nonpartisan citizens' hunger lobby. His books inclu de Bread for the World, a national Religious Book Award winner; T he Politics of World Hunger, coauthored with his brother, former Illinois senator Paul Simon; and most recently Grace at the Table : Ending Hunger in God's World. Simon lives in Colmar Manor, Mary land. ., Baker Publishing Group, 2003, 3, Dogwise Publishing. Very Good. 5.56 x 0.36 x 8.48 inches. Paperback. 2005. 118 pages. <br>Practical how-to instructions on feeding the popul ar raw food diet from the Australian veterinarian who has made it his life's work to improve the health of our canine companions t hrough raw feeding. Customize the diet for your dog's needs. Edi torial Reviews Review What a magnificent piece of writing ? it's real skill to write as simply and clearly as that. -- Mark O'Con nor, www.australianpoet From the Publisher ItÃ's the book ev ery dog's been waiting for. Dog owners will be thrilled with the clear, entertaining style and cheeky illustrations that convey th e information dogs have been trying to tell us for years. From t he Author Sometimes a lucky coincidence or chance encounter helps throw new light on an old situation. ThatÃ's what happened to me . Finally, after five years at veterinary school and fifteen year s as a qualified vet, I saw that processed foods do immense harm and natural foods work wonders for the health of dogs and other c arnivores. At first I was aghast at the magnitude of my mistake , but then was uplifted. Here was the answer to so many of the pr oblems facing my patients. If you own an adult dog that you fee d on canned or packaged food, now is the time to make a change. I f you have a young puppy then starting him or her on a more natur al diet should work wonders. HereÃ's wishing you and your canin e companions the best of good health, Tom Lonsdale About the Author Veterinarian and raw meaty bones activist Tom Lonsdale was born in the UK in 1949, graduated from the Royal Veterinary Coll ege, University of London in 1972 and now lives in Sydney, Austra lia. Tom writes articles and gives talks helping people to improv e their petsÃ' health using the methods perfected by Nature. Abo ut the Author Veterinarian and raw meaty bones activist Tom Lonsd ale was born in the UK in 1949, graduated from the Royal Veterina ry College, University of London in 1972 and now lives in Sydney, Australia. Tom writes articles and gives talks helping people to improve their petsÃ' health using the methods perfected by Natur e. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chap ter 4 - Switching, grinding, breeding Switching to raw food Feed ing raw meaty bones works wonders for the health of dogs. But get ting started, overcoming your fears can be a trifle unnerving. We Ã've all heard the bad press about dogs choking on bones, the vet bills associated with the perforation of a dogÃ's bowel and the nasty bacteria said to lurk in every mouthful of raw food. We don Ã't want to do our pets even the slightest harm. Besides we have a self-image to preserve. We donÃ't want to appear reckless, flou ting conventions and open to ridicule. Relax, wipe the sweat fr om your brow and dry your palms. Switching your petÃ's diet is th e most important thing you can do to promote health, vitality and longevity. Happily most dogs are in touch with their inner wolf and seize on the first juicy bone you offer. Some dogs, though, a ddicted to the commercial offerings, may take a bit of persuading . LetÃ's assume your dog is relatively young, has no major/pain ful problems with teeth and gums (see Chapter 7) and hitherto has been fed a commercial or home cooked diet. The first question th en becomes: Do you introduce changes gradually or switch the diet abruptly? I recommend that, if possible, you make a complete c hange without any lead-up. Simply stop the old diet and start the new. At first itÃ's best to choose and stick with one food sourc e until the change over has been completed successfully. Whole ch ickens or chicken backs and frames make a good initial meal for a ll sizes of dog. Simply throw the items on the ground and watch y our pet sniff, lick and finally seize the morsels. You may feel t he urge to hover for the first few feeding sessions. Try to hover at a distance and so avoid crowding your pet. After about a we ek feeding chicken or other chosen food and providing there are n o digestive upsets you can introduce a variety of other large raw meaty bones and carcasses. Allow a week or so to introduce each new food item before moving on to the next. What if your dog ha s become addicted to junk food and you have become habituated to feeding the addiction? Often a 24-hour fast makes a big differenc e. Resist the temptation to provide a snack of kibble or canned m ush. Simply remove all food for 24 hours. The next day, your some what confused and hungry pet will be more willing to investigate the strange new offering. If this strategy fails we need to think again. Switching fussy dogs For some people the smell, even th e thought, of certain foods turns their stomach. Food aversion af fects dogs too. For instance if a dog is stung by a bee as he or she eats a chicken carcass or suffers stomach pains associated wi th a meal of chicken, then aversion to chicken may result. Genera lly, though, itÃ's not a bad experience but lack of experience th at makes dogs refuse new tastes and textures. Switching the die t of fussy dogs may take a bit of ingenuity using a combination o f methods. Like wolves, dogs cope with hunger surprisingly well. ItÃ's not unkind to let hunger be your principal tool. Fat dogs c an be fasted for lengthy periods without ill effect ? even severa l weeks. Lean dogs can go without food for long periods too. But two or three days of no rations usually works just fine. If the c hicken frames are not eaten after an hour, simply return them to the refrigerator until the next day. By the third day your hungry hound will be following your every move ? and be a willing parti cipant in the experiment. Do your dogs come to the rattle of dr y kibble? Does your dog like to catch tasty morsels, or retrieve the ball? A little teasing and deception, for honorable reasons, may do the trick. Rattle the bowl, but toss small pieces of meat instead. You might try chopping some chicken meat and mixing it w ith familiar food; gradually increasing the proportions of chicke n over a few days and then substituting with large pieces of chic ken on the bone. You might try smearing canned food or crushed ki bble onto raw meaty bones. Do you have a small dog and do you f eed cooked human food? Some small dogs may need their chicken lig htly grilled. After an introductory period grill the meat less to the point where itÃ's completely raw. Once your dog gets the ide a that raw meat tastes good he or she will soon delight in rippin g meat and crunching bones. Persistence pays. Do not give up on s mall dogs. Raw food is essential for them. They need more tooth c leaning, not less. Once a dog relishes the taste of raw chicken graduating to other raw meaty bones and offal is usually straigh tforward. However, if a new item creates resistance then try a da y or two of fasting. I wish you luck and mention a couple of exce ptions ? raw feeding is not a mechanical process, we need to stay in touch with the realities of Nature. There are dogs that would rather starve than eat what is otherwise wholesome natural food. Some dogs relish raw fish and some dogs refuse to eat fish how ever hard you try. My own dogs eat chicken backs and frames with gusto. But much to my chagrin, when I bought some old laying-hens , with the intention of feeding them warm, feathers, guts and all , the dogs seized the newly-killed hens with a vigorous shake ? t hey made sure the hens were dead, but flatly refused to eat them. I tried plucking the hens; dismembering them; I tried everything I could think of, but still the hens went uneaten. Such is a lif e with dogs. The remaining hens lived happily ever after and la id lots of eggs to prove it. </div ., Dogwise Publishing, 2005, 3, Berrett-Koehler Publishers. Very Good. 5.56 x 0.54 x 8.5 inches. Paperback. 2013. 216 pages. <br>We all want to change something about ourselves: l ose weight, quit smoking, improve our finances, and so on. But ch ange is hard, even painful, and it's our nature to avoid pain. In this inspiring how-to guide, Terry Hawkins provides exactly what we need: a straightforward way to break free of old habits that hold us back and adopt new ones that move us forward. It's a proc ess Hawkins herself used to rise above poverty, abuse, and seriou s health problems. Two fictional characters--Pitman and Flipman --demonstrate two possible ways of being. As Pitman, we're trappe d in the Pit of Misery, chained to our past, a helpless victim of circumstance. As the superhero Flipman, we are powerful, courage ous, loved, successful, and able to flip negative thoughts and ha bits into positive ones. Hawkins illustrates precisely what feeli ngs, thoughts, and behaviors send us to the pit and provides a de tailed action plan for getting out of it. This wonderfully human and honest book will help you create the life you want once and f or all. Editorial Reviews Review Terry Hawkins is a positive fo rce of nature. Let her enthusiasm and optimistic approach to life 's challenges rub off on you as you turn the pages. You'll be a b etter person for having read this book. --Ken Blanchard, coauthor of The One Minute Manager and Great Leaders Grow I was about to take antidepressants to stop my spiral downward--then I was hand ed Why Wait to Be Great? I feel so empowered. It was like it was written just for me and everything I was going through. --Ishbel MacConnachie, Director of Studies, GoodStart Training College Po ssibly the best book I have read on overcoming depression, lethar gy, negative self-talk, and more. Every high school student shoul d be given a copy when he or she leaves school--skills for life. --Vivien Wornell, Social Worker/Counselor, St. George Private Hos pital About the Author Terry Hawkins is CEO of the multinational training organization People in Progress Global. In 2012, she wo n the Woman of the Year Award for Business Education from the Nat ional Association of Professional Women. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 There Are Only Two T imes in Life: Now and Too Late! We all have a story. The basic p remise of living provides us with a smorgasbord of possible oppor tunities to add to our story. We gather stories within our story, and the longer we live, the more scenes we add; thus by the end of our life we have built a story that is long, rich, and complet ely unique to us. No one else ever has or ever will have our stor y -- this is one of the most amazing miracles of life. As much a s our stories may differ, they also unite us in one common elemen t that no human being can ever avoid -- our ability to feel. Our stories trigger a variety of feelings that can either propel us f orward or keep us stifled and paralyzed in the past. We often he ar people say that it is the events and experiences of our lives that shape us into who we are, but is that really the case? Why i s it that two people can experience the same event and yet each b e affected in a completely different way? Is it the story of our life that determines our happiness, or is it the position from wh ich we view our story -- the story we tell ourselves about our st ory? Is it this interpretation that affects the decisions we make , how we feel about our life, and how we feel about those in it? Many years ago I was sitting in my office, reading through the p articipant list for the next management training program I was co nducting for one of our clients. While scrolling, I noticed a han dwritten note beside one of the names. It read: Lynn -- husband d ied four weeks ago. Lynn had participated in our sales and servic e program just over a year earlier. When the course began, we st arted introducing ourselves to one another. Eventually, it was Ly nn's turn to speak. When I asked her how she was feeling, she rep lied, Not that good! Not recalling that note, I thoughtlessly sai d, Oh, why not? It can't be that bad! Her face reddened and her e yes filled with tears, and in that moment I remembered the note. She was the one whose husband who had died four weeks earlier. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't imagine what it was like to e xperience that kind of loss. I felt so stupid and awkward for bei ng flippant. Yet despite my obvious discomfort at my faux pas, sh e responded with warmth and love. She said that she had come to t he program because she wanted to laugh again, as her recent life had been so sad, and she was happy to be here. That night, when I went to bed in my hotel room, I decided to let my imagination r un wild, without boundaries. I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose someone that close to me -- someone I loved with all my heart. I imagined myself never having that person in my life again. I fully associated with the thought. It hurt. The pain spr ead through every limb, every vein, and every heartbeat. It was a lmost too much for me to bear. Yet in the training room I had see n a woman with the courage to confront her deepest anguish and fa ce the world, allowing herself to laugh and cry as she needed to. Lynn spent the next couple of days immersing herself in the pro gram. During one particular section she actually laughed so much she cried. As she wiped away the tears, she told us how wonderful it was to be crying from happiness, not sadness. It's hard to fi nd the words to describe the special feeling of watching someone experience joy again after so much sadness. When Lynn talked abou t her husband, her entire face lit up. He was her soul mate, her lover, her everything! Before meeting him, she had spent many yea rs in an unhappy marriage. This wonderful man had finally given h er the joy that had eluded her with her first husband. Lynn told us that they had been building their dream home, and to speed th ings along financially, he had moved from his position at the Cus toms Department (where he had worked for twenty years) to take up a position as a courier. Six weeks later, he had walked into a b uilding and unknowingly inhaled the deadly bacteria for Legionnai res' disease. Ten days later, he was dead. Her mate, her lover, h er confidant, her friend, was gone. I looked at the sadness in h er eyes and felt an urgent need to take her emptiness away. I des perately wanted her to be happy, and I realized that I was respon ding to my own fears of losing those that I loved. Grief is a nec essary part of healing. By wanting Lynn to not feel her grief, I was trying to protect myself from the pain of death. We try so ha rd to run away from the really painful emotions of life, yet they must be experienced; otherwise, we can't move on. Over the next twelve months, I saw Lynn a few times at my presentations and wo rkshops. We also sent each other occasional e-mails, including on e about a monkey that made her laugh so much she got a stitch in her side! In one of those e-mails, she asked me to make a voice r ecording for her. She said she needed something from me that spok e to her -- and her alone -- to get her through the dark days. S he said, Terry, you say things that inspire me and make me feel a live. Get me out of this rut I'm in. Make me a recording that I c an play in the car when I'm feeling down. I promised her I would send it. The next time I saw Lynn was a few months later at a o ne-day workshop I was conducting. She asked about the recording, and I apologized for not sending it. I confessed that I was so ne rvous about what she might think that I hadn't gotten around to d oing it; I didn't want to embarrass myself. She reassured me, enc ouraged me, and even begged me to do it. We had a few laughs and a big hug, and I promised her I would do it by Christmas. Well, time rolled by, and I thought about that recording nearly every d ay. I kept thinking about how special Lynn was and how pathetic I was for procrastinating. But in truth, I was nervous about what others might think of what I would say. I kept asking myself what I was waiting for. Did I need my message to be perfect? Should i t be profound? And who was I to judge that anyway? I was paralyz ed with indecision just thinking about it! Then came the new year , and the phone rang. Do you know Lynn from Perth? Why, yes! I said with a touch of guilt, remembering the unfinished recording. She died last night in her sleep. Image There are only two ti mes in life: NOW and TOO LATE! I state that phrase nearly every day of my life. For the most part, I live it, because there reall y are only two times in life -- this moment, and then it's gone! If this is the case, then why do so many of us wait to be great? Why do we get so stymied by life that we become frozen? Why does it become so difficult to seize each moment with passion and cour age? Is it because we are afraid? We all get afraid at times, bu t it's sad when that fear paralyzes us and prevents us from movin g forward. This is not a message about physical death. It's a mes sage about the death we have while we're still alive. That night , I cried for Lynn, and I cried for me. I cried that I hadn't don e what she thought I was capable of doing. I cried for the fact t hat I could have made her life a little easier -- but I hadn't. W hy? Because I was afraid! Life is full of learning experiences for all of us; no one escapes. It's packed with situations that g ive us wisdom and understanding -- but what if those experiences are so painful that we get stuck in the pain and thus stop moving forward? Not more than twenty-four hours had passed when I rece ived another phone call. It was a second blow. A young man I had worked with a few weeks before -- a beautiful, talented, intellig ent twenty-one-year-old -- had been sentenced to prison for a dru g offense. Again there was sadness in my heart. I remembered the beautiful, innocent face of this young man with such a promising future. It was hard to think of him being locked away with harden ed criminals in a prison cell, all because of a few unwise choice s. A third blow came a few days later. A friend called to tell m e that his eighteen-year-old sister had tried to kill herself. Sh e had jumped off a bridge four floors high -- and survived! How d esperate must she have been to not see a way out and to make an a ttempt on her own life? I wanted to scream and yell for all thre e of them! In the course of training and presenting to thousands of audiences, I've heard endless stories about people who have b een to hell and back. I've also discovered some lessons and drawn some conclusions from these tragedies and triumphs. The biggest conclusion I've come to is this: I have yet to meet anyone who ha s had a charmed life. Every one of us has experienced something i n our life from which we still carry scars. Some of the scars are self-inflicted, and some are a result of what others have done t o us. They vary in intensity, and some are more painful than othe rs. But behind every face lies an amazing story! All of us have b een touched by life in some way, and I am reminded of this every day. Whenever I look at a stranger's face, I wonder what story th is person could tell me and what painful past lies inside. Our m ost painful memories are usually only exacerbated when we try to numb the feeling by running away. I spent many years of my life f illed with shame and anger about my past, trying to pretend that it never happened. I too have experienced dark times in which I s imply wanted to be able to erase some of those unpleasant, painfu l memories, and I also spent many of my younger years stuck in th at empty hole called What if? A woman so heartbroken, wondering why fate had dealt her such a harsh card; a young man with his wh ole future in front of him, now facing the stark reality of time in prison; a teenager so desperate to silence her pain, now confr onting her own survival. These three -- Lynn, the young drug user , and my friend's sister -- all had something in common, just as you and I probably do. What controls their destinies? How will t hese experiences affect their lives? And is the actual experience the defining moment in their lives? No! It is never the actual experience that defines us. It is how we perceive these experien ces that defines how we will live the rest of our lives. That is the defining moment! All we have is now. In each moment we are g iven the choice of how to interpret and react to each situation. Unfortunately, many of us are completely unaware that we hold the key to our own happiness -- we hold the pen that can write the n ew story of how our life can be. So let's look at some of the th ings that get in the way of this happiness and why we wait to be great. ., Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2013, 3, Scribner Paperback Fiction. Very Good. 5.25 x 0.64 x 8 inches. Paperback. 1996. 256 pages. <br>Welcome to The Club -- Golf's Valhalla -- where al l that's necessary for admission is an intense love of the game. Here you'll watch the greatest players replay their victories...a nd their defeats...as they search for golf's hidden and seemingly inaccessible meaning. Like W.P. Kinsella's Shoeless Joe -- the basis for the movie Field of Dreams -- Follow the Wind is sports fantasy at its finest and most poignant. A young man following an errant shot into the woods emerges on a totally unfamiliar golf course. The first person he encounters is the legendary Ben Hogan , feverishly practicing for something special. As Links weaves h is tale, introducing such golfing greats as Walter Hagen, Bobby J ones, Alister MacKenzie, and the famous nineteenth century Scotti sh champions Old and Young Tom Morris, he recreates the most mome ntous events in golfing history and captures the magic that has l ured millions to the fairway. For fans of Harvey Penick's books a nd for everyone who has searched for inspiration on the golf cour se, Follow the Wind offers the satisfaction of a perfect shot tha t soars for the flagstick. Editorial Reviews From Publishers We ekly Attorney Links's first novel is a sports fantasy concerning a mythical golf course that hosts all the greats in the history o f the game. Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc. Revi ew Alix Madrigal San Francisco Chronicle An...otherworldly paean to the game of golf...all put together with a winning sweetness a nd a true love for the game. Washington Post Book World A lush m agical fantasy...golf fans will relish... Harvey Penick Bo Links certainly knows his golf, and he shows it in a story that reflec ts the best the game has to offer. Robert Trent Jones [Follow th e Wind has] so cleverly captured the romance, the folklore, and t he mysticism of the game that I couldn't put it down...[it] hooke d me and I had to play the full 18! Ben Hogan The man was so sic k so long, and fought it so successfully, that I think we have fi nally discovered the secret of Jone's success. It was the strengt h of his mind. Tommy Bolt Somebody asked me once, Who's better - - Nicklaus or Hogan? Well, my answer was, I saw Nicklaus watch Ho gan practice, but I never saw Hogan watch Nicklaus practice. Abo ut the Author Bo Links is an attorney and an avid golfer and phot ographer. His pictures have been published in various magazines, including Golf Journal and GolfWeek. He lives in Mill Valley, Cal ifornia. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved . Chapter 1 Even with the benefit of hindsight it is difficult t o explain exactly how I found the place. I stumbled upon it years ago, and although the passage of time has worn down the grooves of my memory, I can still recall many of the details. I was bare ly twenty years old as I threw my clubs over my shoulder and set out for Lincoln Park Golf Course, which sits on the very northwes t tip of San Francisco. Lincoln is a little bit of a golf course, a mere freckle on the great body of the game. If it were a rubbe r band stretched to its limit, the elastic would snap at fifty-th ree hundred yards. That's all it is, just a kick-in putt compared to places like Medinah, Oakmont, and Winged Foot. They will nev er play a United States Open Championship at Lincoln Park. But th en again, those of us who have negotiated Lincoln's hills and scr aped shots off her bare lies don't care about that. The course is vivid in our memories for its tumbling terrain and its rock-hard fairways and concrete greens. Most important of all, we remember Lincoln Park because it is where we grew up. At Lincoln you can 't fly a shot in tight or watch the ball suck back to the hole. I have learned from experience that the best way to get around the place is to let your pitch shots bounce a little; you have to pu nch the thing at the flag, forcing the ball to dance the dance of a hungry rabbit, bobbing and weaving as it hops between daisies and uneven tufts of grass. The course is tucked into a seemingly forgotten corner of the City, adjacent to a quiet, middle-class residential neighborhood. I suspect the people who live along Cle ment Street, which borders a couple of Lincoln's fairways, don't care much for golf and are thankful for the wall of trees and the huge fence that work together to keep wild slices from veering i nto their living rooms. That is not to say nongolfers don't make use of the place. Lincoln is a wonderful spot for a walk and has an excellent museum, the Palace of the Legion of Honor, which fea tures the works of French impressionists and sits in the middle o f everything. It is surrounded by the tees, greens, and fairways of at least eight different holes, everything from mammoth par th rees to an intimately short par five. The highest point at Linco ln is the thirteenth tee. From there, weather permitting, a playe r can see all the way to Contra Costa County and Mount Diablo, ca tching a glimpse of downtown San Francisco and the Bay Bridge in the process. Even on the dullest of afternoons you can see the Tr ansamerica Pyramid, its thinly tapered top floors jutting above t he other skyscrapers, aimed at the clouds like a needle waiting t o be threaded so it can stitch the city's rooftops to the sky. An d from the tee at the par-three seventeenth, you don't think of t he oval green 234 yards away, puckering a bit like a temptress; t he only thing on your mind is the landmark that dominates the hor izon to the east of the tee box, the Golden Gate Bridge, looming in the distance, stately and still -- a huge, mute, inanimate mem ber of the gallery, rigid and tense in anticipation of shots to c ome. I wasn't thinking about such vistas on the day in question. All I had on my mind was teeing it up and chasing my ball over L incoln's hills, hoping to avoid her trees, hoping lightning would strike and I could shoot a score worth remembering. I was alone, so there would be no one to verify the excellence of my effort, should I be lucky enough to get hot. I didn't have a dime in my pockets, and things were always sort of laid back at Lincoln, so I cut in on the seventh hole. I selected number seven partly beca use it was the point of entry closest to my mother's home, locate d nearby on Forty-third Avenue between Anza and Balboa streets. M ore important, the seventh tee is hidden in a far-off corner of t he course, completely out of sight of the starter's window, an ex cellent place for starting a round of golf if you have no intenti on of paying a greens fee. I didn't plan on committing a major c rime here. All I wanted was a few holes, a little space, a few wh acks at the pellet. After all, a few years earlier, when I was in high school, I was here every afternoon, playing anytime I wante d by virtue of a monthly fee card I would purchase while playing fifth man on the George Washington High School golf team. The sch ool is located only five blocks away, and anyone with any brains knew how to fill out his schedule at the start of every semester: In the morning four solids (history, math, foreign language, Eng lish) followed in the afternoon by three shots of pure air (lunch , study hall, and physical education). That translated into a sch ool day that began at 8:45 A.M. and ended at half-past noon, lead ing directly to at least eighteen holes a day because we could le ave campus at lunchtime. We never worried about coming back, for our golf coach, the inimitable John Gravelmouth McGrath, signed u s out of study hall and instructed us in no uncertain terms to hi t the links instead of showing up for in-school PE. I loved golf , so this was heaven. In addition to playing, I had the good sens e to soak up the fullness of the game -- its history, its heroes, its rules, its lore. And when it came to making the little white pill dance at Lincoln Park, even a player of my limited ability had an edge: I knew the dang course like the back of my hand. Af ter high school it was on to Berkeley. I played golf -- not nearl y as often as I had in high school but often enough to keep the f lame burning inside me at the right height. While my friends were walking to lecture halls through the smell of tear gas, I was pr owling the fairways of nearby Tilden Park, another hilly course n ot unlike Lincoln. My love of the game continued to grow, with ea ch day bringing some new observation, some new discovery. My prog ress suggested that if I kept at it, I might just discover the el usive treasure that every player of my meager ability seeks: the secret of the pros. If I ever found it, I knew, I'd be home free -- Flush City, ready to bask in a lifetime of shots that went whe re they were supposed to and stopped whenever I cried out bite. The day I cut in was nothing special. The weather was dull, the s ky a blotchy wall of battleship gray, the way it is for more than three hundred days a year in that part of the city. There was no wind, and the air was muggy, which meant it was heavy. I could t ell in an instant there would be no hang time even if I hit one o n the screws. I didn't stand on ceremony. I looked down the chut e of number seven, saw an empty fairway, then slapped a three-woo d off the ground and walked onto the course as though I owned it. The ball sailed over a hill that crests 185 yards up the fairway , and I rushed after it, hoping no one was waiting on the down si de to rip off what was a pretty fair blow. I knew all about the b all hawkers who lurked over the hill on number seven; after all, only a couple of years ago I was one of them. That, in fact, is h ow I got started with all of this, for I never even played the ga me until, at the ripe age of thirteen, I borrowed a friend's wood -shafted, rusty-headed mashie and proceeded to steal an unsuspect ing customer's drive that had sailed over the very hill I have ju st described. I thought about that inauspicious beginning, but on ly for a moment. I had to get moving. Fortunately, there was no one around, and I was able to play the seventh quickly. My downhi ll wedge shot to the green bounced like a kid on a trampoline, bu t it never veered off line, stopping only twelve feet from the ho le. The putt caught the lip and fell. Birdie. I made no outward d isplay of excitement, no fist in the air, no shout to the heavens . All I wanted was to blend into the scenery and play with a natu ral ease, all the better to deflect any inquiry should someone fr om the starter's office be prowling around to check if players ha d actually registered and paid to play. Had I been thinking stra ight, I would have realized there was little reason for fear. It was early evening, and the course was almost totally deserted. I moved along, playing five more holes in relative peace. I made an easy three at the eighth, a downhill par three whose green is gu arded by bunkers. Then it was back up the hill, climbing the fair way of number nine, panting with every step. Even a good poke dow n the middle on that hole leaves a blind shot to the green, and m y drive fit the pattern perfectly. I fired a nine-iron, which lan ded safe though not really close to the hole. I escaped with par. The tenth and eleventh, two short par fours, were birdie land e ven for a player like me. I almost drove the tenth and sandwedged my ball to six feet. Drain-o. My three-wood tee shot at the elev enth drew a bit, bending its way around the corner, dribbling dow n a short slope to a decent lie near the green. All that was left was a short chip, which I hit with confidence. The ball did not respond; it seemed to have a mind of its own, bouncing in fear, s quirting off to the right. When the ball calmed down and stopped carrying on, it was eighteen feet from the hole. Not a good shot. I made up for it, though, as my putt caught the grain of the gr een and rode it as though it were a streetcar whose rails ended a t the bottom of the cup. When the putt dropped, I was three under . That's when it started to get scary. The twelfth is another di minutive par four, all of 280 yards. Even though my tee shot woun d up under the trees to the left of the fairway, I could still re ach the green with a low punch. It didn't work. I looked up on my second shot, squirreled the ball forward, and faced a tricky up- and-down for par. My third shot, a pitch caught the green and rol led up near the hole. Although I was alone, I was three under, wh ich caused me to feel the presence of a huge imagined gallery roa ring at every shot. I made the putt for par, and that convinced me, as only good rolls can, that it was my day. I began walking s lowly toward the next hole, sensing that this was a round I would long remember. If only someone were there to see it -- someone t o be my marker, someone to attest to the mastery of my effort. Th ree under after six is as good as it gets for a player like me. By the time I reached the thirteenth tee, a thick fog had rolled in. I couldn't even begin to think about seeing the East Bay hill s or downtown San Francisco or either of the bridges. I was start ing to shiver, and under the circumstances I wasn't sure if that was my nerves or the weather talking. I took stock of where I sto od: I had parred number twelve and reminded myself for the fourth or fifth time that I was still three under. It was an incredible score for me, so good that I was beginning to wonder just when t he hands of fate would wrap themselves around my neck and tighten their grip. The fog hovered around me like cotton fluff, ready t o soften my fall, but even in the mist I could make out the fairw ay. The thirteenth hole at Lincoln Park is a 495-yard roller coa ster of a par five. The fairway runs downhill from the tee, and t hen back up to a landing area; from there it slopes gently downhi ll again, all the way to the green. Despite the undulations, the hole is basically straight, and it is very, very easy. The main o bject off the tee is to carry the ball over two stands of trees t hat lie 180 yards out, bordering the fairway in clumps to the lef t and right. With a good tee ball, all a player has to do is blas t the second shot at the green and then chip and putt for a birdi e. I was staring four under right in the bloody face. I hit a pe rfect drive, and my eyes widened with delight as the ball sailed away, straight and true. The lie for my second shot was a good o ne, providing no excuse for failure. All I can say is that a sudd en, quickening wind at my back proved to be more of a temptation than my young character could resist. Convinced that I could loft one into the stratosphere, Scribner Paperback Fiction, 1996, 3, Used - Good. Ships from the UK. Former library book; may include library markings. Used book that is in clean, average condition without any missing pages., 2.5<
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Details of the book - The Many Lives of Tom Waits
EAN (ISBN-13): 9781847725097
ISBN (ISBN-10): 1847725090
Hardcover
Paperback
Publishing year: 2008
Publisher: Omnibus Press
354 Pages
Weight: 0,617 kg
Language: eng/Englisch
Book in our database since 2008-03-02T06:37:43-05:00 (New York)
Detail page last modified on 2023-11-25T19:12:28-05:00 (New York)
ISBN/EAN: 9781847725097
ISBN - alternate spelling:
1-84772-509-0, 978-1-84772-509-7
Alternate spelling and related search-keywords:
Book author: humphries, tokkeim, tom waits
Book title: many lives tom waits, the many waits, die vielen leben des tom waits, life tom waits, new lives for old
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9780857121257 Many Lives of Tom Waits (Patrick Humphries)
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