Another Bow By Obama

November 16th, 2009

Obama’s low bow to the Japanese emperor Saturday is another low blow to the American people.  You would think after his bow to the King of Saudi, he might have learned just how inappropriate that is.  

This is the first time in the history of the United States that our president has shown subservience to another county.  Along with these bows and all the apologies for our country, it appears that Michelle Obama isn’t the only family member who is ashamed of her country.

Maybe this is another mistake we all have made.  After all, his first bow was brushed off as Obama just had to lean over to shake the hand of the king because the king was short.  Yep, the Japanese emperor is short.  That must be it.  Why would our president want to humiliate and humble us in the sight of the world?

You can see the bows that he made here.  Of course, I haven’t read the spin yet.  Maybe the White House will once again tell us that we can’t believe what we see.  I’m still wondering why he didn’t bow to any other heads of state.  What is the significance of those two?

 

You can read the entire story here.

Bet – The Lord; Our Portion

November 15th, 2009

  The Lord is my portion; I promise to keep your words. 

I implore your favor with all my heart; be gracious to me according to your promise.

When I think of your ways, I turn my feet to your decrees; I hurry and do not delay to keep your commandments.

Though the cords of the wicked ensnare me, I do not forget your law.

At midnight I rise to praise you, because of your righteous ordinances.

I am a companion of all who fear you, of those who keep your precepts.

The earth, O Lord, is full of your steadfast love; teach me your statues.

Psalm 119:57-64

The Swiss Courier

November 14th, 2009

                           

                                        The Swiss Courier

                                         by Tricia Goyer & Mike Yorkey

                                             ISBN: 978-0-8007-3336-0

                                                $13.99; October 2009                   

 

 ***Special thanks to Donna Hausler of Revell, a division of Baker

Publishing Group, for sending me a review copy.***

 

 

Thrilling WWII-Era Novel Filled with Suspense

and a Hint of Romance

 

Award-winning authors Tricia Goyer and Mike Yorkey join forces for the first time with the release of their thrilling World War II-era fiction novel, The Swiss Courier.

 

Set in Switzerland during August 1944, The Swiss Courier whisks readers into the height of World War II as Nazi threats mount and governments race to develop the world’s first atomic bomb.

 

Gabi Mueller is a young Swiss-American woman working as a spy for the newly formed American Office of Strategic Services (the forerunner to the CIA) close to Nazi Germany. She is asked to put her life on the line to safely “courier” a defecting German nuclear physicist—who’s working on the atomic bomb project—out of Germany and into Switzerland, sending her into enemy territory to keep him (and his secrets) safe from the hands of the Gestapo.

As Gabi takes on this do-or-die mission, the fate of the world rests in her hands. If she can lead him to safety, she can keep the Germans from developing nuclear capabilities. But in a time of traitors and uncertainty, whom can she trust along the way?

This fast-paced, suspenseful novel takes readers along treacherous twists and turns during a fascinating—and deadly—time in history. Well-researched, The Swiss Courier includes true historical events to give the story greater authenticity. Danger, suspense and romance abound in this engaging page-turner.

 

“Filled with heart-stopping suspense and fascinating details of life in WWII Europe,

The Swiss Courier is an unforgettable story of faith and courage ….

This is more than a page-turner; it’s a keeper.”

— Amanda Cabot, author

 

“A tense, fast-paced thriller that takes the reader on an exciting ride.”

— Kathleen Fuller, author

 

“With an intensity that builds to the very end, this book is compelling, chilling, and fascinating.”

— Lenora Worth, author

 

“What I love about The Swiss Courier is its gutsy heroine Gabi.

Willing to take risks for the higher good, yet vulnerable,

Gabi is a wonderful portrayal of the tender strength of womanhood.

Add that to a twisting plot, the raging of World War II,

and a kindling love story and you have an enjoyable read.”

— Mary E. DeMuth, author

 

ISLAND BREEZES

 

What a book!  I loved it.  This book has war time mystery and intrigue, as well as romance.  There are twists and turns to the plot throughout the entire book.  Bet you can’t figure out all the characters and what games they’re playing. 

 

Talk about surprises!  I didn’t even begin to guess at most of these reveals.  Surprises keep turning up until the very ending when plot and subplots are wrapped up quite nicely. I’d like to talk a lot more about this great book, but I’m afraid I might give away something and that would spoil it for you.

 

I hope Goyer and Yorkey team up for many more books, especially more about Gabi’s further adventures.  She reached right out and grabbed my heart.

 

Tricia Goyer is the author of several books, including Night Song and Dawn of a Thousand Nights, both past winners of the ACFW’s Book of the Year Award for Long Historical Romance. Goyer lives with her family in Montana.

 

Mike Yorkey is the author or coauthor of dozens of books, including the bestselling Every Man’s Battle series. Married to a Swiss native, Yorkey lived in Switzerland for 18 months. He and his family currently reside in California.

 

Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.  They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.

 

Available October 2009 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group 

 

For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com.

Enjoy Your Money!

November 12th, 2009

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:
J. Steve Miller

and the book:

Enjoy Your Money! How to Make It, Save It, Invest It and Give It

Wisdom Creek Press, LLC (March 11, 2009)

***Special thanks to Blythe Daniel of The Blythe Daniel Agency, Inc. for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

J. Steve Miller – educator, investor, entrepreneur, and speaker – has taught audiences from Atlanta to Moscow. He’s known for drawing practical wisdom from serious research and communicating it in accessible, unforgettable ways.

Steve is the founder and president of Legacy Educational Resources, providing global resources for teachers of life skills in public schools, churches, and service organizations at www.character-education.info. A self-styled “wisdom broker,” he collects wisdom from many fields and packages it for teachers and writers via his published books and the Web. His wife, Cherie, and their seven sons continually remind him what works and what doesn’t.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $15.99
Paperback: 270 pages
Publisher: Wisdom Creek Press, LLC (March 11, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 098187567X
ISBN-13: 978-0981875675

ISLAND BREEZES

 I’ve read a lot of personal finance books, but never one like this.  Although I learned something from most of them, I often had to dig and hope I wasn’t bored to death before I found that new little nugget of wisdom. 

Not so, this book.  I really enjoyed reading it.  This entertaining book will not only teach you principles of making and growing money, it will also teach you the principles of how to lose your money.  I’m afraid one or two of those hit home with me.

Most importantly, Mr. Miller speaks to us about enjoying our money.  That’s right.  Money is not supposed to make a person miserable.   It doesn’t automatically make a person happy, either.  Oh, yes.  I know that saying about “Money might not buy happiness, but I’d like to have it to try.”  So, read the book, find out how to have both money and happiness.

As for me, I’m trying to get in touch with Mrs. Kramer.  I want to set up a breakfast meeting.  I plan to join the counterculture club.

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Preface

This book will help you to:

get out of debt and accumulate wealth.
get ahead, even when the work you love doesn’t produce big bucks.
find your strengths and passions and make a living with them.
live a more fulfilled life.

You’ll discover the wisdom of the great makers and accumulators of wealth, presented in a story form to help you understand, internalize and have fun in the process. You’ll learn investing from Warren Buffett, the world’s greatest investor and wealthiest man in the world. You’ll learn principles of business success from Sam Walton, the uber-successful founder of Wal-Mart. You’ll find advice on landing and succeeding in a dream job from experts in career guidance.

Is This Book for Me?

You’re never too young or too old to discover these ageless principles. They apply to the seasoned business executive as well as the entrepreneur with his first lemonade stand. Warren Buffet caught his vision at age five and started investing at age 11. My grandmother started multiplying her money in her mid-60’s. At age one hundred and two, with her sharp mind intact, she’s accumulated a small fortune.

What’s Unique About This Book?

Many books teach personal money management. Some of them are good. But, as Paul A. Samuelson (MIT Professor of Economics and Nobel Laureate) said:

“The same surgeon general who required cigarette packages to say ‘Warning, this product may be dangerous to your health’ ought to require that 99 out of 100 books written on personal finance carry that same label. The exceptions are rare.” 1

I strove to be one of those exceptions by basing my advice not just upon years of personal experience, but upon the knowledge and experiences of well over one hundred wise people. In the process, my house at times bore more resemblance to the famed library of Alexandria than to a home. But each new book or interview seemed to offer new angles or fresh insights, often pointing to new paths just begging to be traveled. 2

After writing my first draft, I put it into the hands of over forty smart people I respect, asking them, “If you could put a lifetime of financial wisdom into a book, is this what you’d say? Be ruthlessly honest!” Their input proved invaluable.

Essentially, I distill the wisdom of the wise on working hard, working smart, saving, investing and giving – all the ageless basics – applied to today’s world. I was especially fascinated with the counterintuitive nature of so much of their advice. The more you study the successful, the more you see why most people aren’t very successful. The path to financial freedom isn’t the path that initially appears obvious. Thus, the need for books to challenge the conventional thinking of popular culture.

I cover critical topics often left out of books of this nature. For example, the excellent studies of millionaires by professors Thomas Stanley and William Danko found that character traits such as integrity, diligence and thrift are shared by most who accumulate wealth.3 The massive Gallup study of managers and people at work helps us discover our passions and strengths and put them to work in a fulfilling career.4

Finally, people usually seek money, not as an end in itself, but as a way to find peace and happiness. Funny that so many money books assume that lots of money will automatically cure our ills and put smiles on our faces. When does money help lead us to happiness? When does it hinder our happiness? Social scientists have studied happiness extensively and drawn some fascinating, counterintuitive conclusions.5 Isn’t happiness important to consider in handling your money?

Money management can be exciting! I believe that this story of Antonio, Akashi, James, Amy and their mentors can build some of that excitement. It’s fun to beat the system. It’s fun to see your money grow. It’s fun to feel successful. It’s fun to have enough money to help others. To this end, I hope you have fun reading my book.

Table of Contents

Page

Preface…………………………………………………………………………

Introduction……………………………………………………………………

Part One – Investing Money

Breakfast 1 – Discover the Basics……………………………………………

Breakfast 2 – Catch the Vision………………………..…………………

Breakfast 3 – Don’t Lose Money in Stocks……………………………………

Breakfast 4 – Make Money in Mutual Funds……………………………

Breakfast 5 – Diversify with Real Estate and Prepare for Hard Times ……

Breakfast 6 – The Breakfast that Almost Wasn’t…………………………

Part Two – Saving Money

Breakfast 7 – Live WAY Beneath Your Means…………………………

Breakfast 8 – Save on Food and Clothes ………………………

Breakfast 9 – Save on Cars…………………………………………

Breakfast 10 – Save on Houses……………………………………

Breakfast 11 –Ten Popular Ways to Lose Loads of Money………………

Part Three – Making Money

Breakfast 12 – Find Jobs You Love………………………………………

Breakfast 13 – Excel at Your Job…………………………………………

Breakfast 14 – Invest in your Mind………………………………………

Part Four: Enjoying Money

Breakfast 15 – Look for Happiness in the Right Places…………………

Epilogue: Where Are They Now?

Web-Based Complementary Resources

Acknowledgements……………………………………………………………

Bibliographical References

Index

Introduction
From Cliff Hanger to Hash Brown’s Breakfast Bar

August 15, 2005, Somewhere in the Montana Rockies…

Dangling off the edge of a massive rock, something had to give. Antonio could no longer hang on to both his well-chalked handhold and his struggling, neophyte climber – a Down ’s syndrome teen named Chad.

Antonio shot a piercing glance directly into Chad’s fear-filled eyes. “I’ve got to let go of ya, Chad! Trust in what you’ve learned and hang on to that rope!”

After the briefest silent prayer, Antonio let go….

Chad let out a blood-curdling scream, which quickly shifted into quiet concentration as he relaxed his death-grip on the rope and let it slide through the carabineers. He pushed off of the rock and began bouncing down the cliff. Rappelling with newly found confidence and his own distinctive style, his silence erupted into laughter. Chad had conquered yet another challenge during his week-long retreat with Extreme Wisdom Wilderness Adventures.

Antonio free-climbed his way down the adjacent rock, shouting triumphantly to the cloudless sky, “What a job! The wilderness is my office. My clients love me. I’m changing the world, one person at a time!”

Then, he chuckled to himself as his mind rewound to a decade earlier, to “In School Suspension,” “The Counterculture Club,” and that loony old Mrs. Kramer, who turned out to have more sense than anyone he’d ever met.

“Without them,” Antonio thought, “I could have never landed this dream job. Not the way I handled my money back in high school. When I get back to civilization, I’m calling a reunion of the “The Counterculture Club.”

11:00 PM, Two Months Later, Hash Brown’s Breakfast Bar in Acworth, Georgia…

Second-shift manager Larry Wiersbe was experiencing a rare lull in customers until four rowdy twenty-somethings suddenly charged in, looking like they’d stepped straight out of a culturally-sensitive brochure: an Asian girl, an African-American guy, an alternative-looking Caucasian girl and a Hispanic guy.

Larry introduced himself, took their orders and retreated to the grill until a sudden movement forced him to glance at the crowd. The Asian had jumped up suddenly and was swinging her glass Ketchup bottle over her shoulder like the start of a tennis serve. Then, she brought it down forcibly toward the table. Before he could intervene, she stepped back just far enough to miss the table. Riotous laughter followed, until an elderly lady appeared in the entranceway. She pointed her cane at the small party and announced at the top of her lungs, “I christen thee, ‘The Counterculture Club!’”

“Mrs. Kramer!” the Hispanic shouted, as they sprang from their seats to hug their old mentor and friend. High fives, hand slaps and severely dated hand-shakes followed. After all the commotion, Larry half expected them to boost the old lady overhead and body surf her to the table. Instead, they led her gently by her hands, respectfully seating her at the head.

His curiosity piqued, Larry followed their loud conversation from the grill.

“You crazy kids!” Mrs. Kramer began. “What in the world have you been up to? You kept me up-to-date with e-mails and an occasional meeting for a few short years, but then you fell off the face of the earth, you ungrateful bums!”

“You were never one to beat around the bush,” Antonio said sheepishly. “I’ll be the first to plead guilty to the charge of not writing…”

“Enough with the boring confessional,” Mrs. Kramer broke in. “I’m dying to catch up with your lives!”

For the next hour, Larry listened intently to some incredible success stories. Although far from perfect, these people seemed to “get” something that Larry didn’t. They exuded vision, goals, purpose. Much of the conversation revolved around finances – refusing debt, making, saving and investing money. But then the conversation would move seamlessly to finding fulfillment in serving others with their time and money.

Larry knew he didn’t fit in. He shared their age, but that was it. The three credit cards in his wallet were stretched to the max. He worked two dead-end jobs just to keep his head above water. At this rate, he’d never own his own home, much less have the time and resources to help others. And he resolved to never marry a girl who was stupid enough to choose such a loser. Finally, he got the nerve to break in.

“OK guys, it’s midnight, closing time. But you’ve obviously got something I desperately need. Unless you’re all high or suffering from delusions of grandeur, you’ve achieved a freedom that’s eluded me all of my life. Can you tell me what you learned from this lady that made your lives into something I’m envying?”

They looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’ll cut a deal with you,” Larry continued. “If you’ll tell me in one hour how you’ve achieved this…“financial freedom” as you call it, I’ll let you hang out as long as you like. Plus, I’ll serve you whatever you want. No charge.”

“Why not?” said the old lady. Obviously the mouthpiece for the group, she seemed to enjoy taking charge once more. “It would be a hoot to reminisce about old times, and a helpful review for these slow learners. Keep that order pad handy, because you’ll need to jot some of this down.”

“And you’d better pull up your chair,” chuckled the black fellow, “because once you get us started, we’ll take more than your hour.”

In School Suspension

“I’ll start,” volunteered the alternative-looking blonde. “I remember that first day vividly because I’ve relived it in my mind a hundred times since. You wouldn’t have recognized me back then. As a fifteen-year-old, I didn’t have the cheek-ring or tattoos that today help jump-start conversations while volunteering at the Juvenile Center. Back then, I was a reluctant cheerleader. This unlikely group first met in ISS.”

“In School Suspension?” queried Larry.

“If you don’t know, you must have been one of the good boys!” teased the Asian.

“So, I walked in to find these three students, but no teacher. I’d hoped someone I knew would be there, but no such luck. An assistant principal broke the ice by stepping in and explaining that our teacher would arrive shortly. Then she asked for our names and wrote them on a legal pad:

Antonio, Amy, Akashi, James.

She took another sheet and began to read our crimes, something like this:

Flash Back to High School

“Antonio: Fourteen tardies? We’re only into the fifteenth school day!”

“I’m not a morning person,” Antonio offered.

“Akashi, sleeping through Algebra again? I figured you’d be good at Math.”

“Not all Asians can be Math geniuses, you know,” Akashi responded, showing more than a hint of attitude.

“James, caught in the hall without a pass.”

“The teacher wasn’t around, and when you gotta go, you gotta–”

“Spare me the details. And Amy, what’s with parking in the teacher’s lot?”

“I was late, and a visitor had taken my spot.”

“Typical teens: all victims, none responsible. Anyway, Coach Helms will be in shortly.”

As the door closed behind her, Akashi mocked, “typical teens…all victims, none responsible. And since I’m Asian, of course I sit around studying Math for fun. I’m so tired of this prison of a school. And here I sit in house arrest with a couple of jocks and a cheerleader.”

“So you resent being labeled a stereotypical Asian Math whiz but have no problem labeling us as stereotypical preps and jocks?” shot back Antonio. Can you say “hypocrite?”

“We’re getting off to a bad start,” offered James. “If coach Helms walks in and finds us in a rumble, we’ll be stuck in ISS the rest of the year. Obviously, none of us want to crack a book until we have to. Let’s break through the stereotypes and get to know each other a bit. Surely we have something in common. Amy, you’re a cheerleader, right?”

“I hate cheerleading,” complained Amy. “It’s not me at all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Antonio. “You so look the part.”

“I’m a rebel living in a preppie world. You see, my brother started dressing goth in high school about the same time as he discovered drugs. My parents, fearing the same would happen to me if I got with the ‘wrong’ crowd, won’t let me near a Hot Topic or thrift store. I understand their concern, but I’m not about to do drugs. I see what they’ve done to my brother. But I’m not comfortable with jocks and preps.

My parents want the best for me. I don’t want to hurt them. But I’m counting the days till I go off to college, shed these Abercrombies and join a punk band. Alone in my bedroom with my bass, I can keep up with almost any song you give me.”

“Amazing. And you guys probably think I play Soccer,” teased Antonio. “It’s never interested me. I’m more into weightlifting and wilderness adventures, like rock climbing and caving.”

“If you’re into stereotypes, I do like basketball and fried chicken,” offered James. “But I don’t like watermelon, and I’m not on the school basketball team. I spend my after school hours making money. My parents always fight about money, so I plan to make a million by the time I’m 40 so that it won’t be an issue in my family.”

“Parents with money problems, now that’s something we’ve got in common,” replied Akashi. “My parents are so obsessed with ‘getting ahead’ that they work day and night and weekends. We live in a nice neighborhood and have great cars, but they can’t enjoy life. They have to work all the time to pay the bills. I’d much rather live in a one room apartment and have time to travel and hang out with my family. Amy, what about your parents?”

“They’d love to teach at the University and write on the side, but they can’t quit their corporate jobs. They need the money. They’ve never been savers. They max out their credit cards over Christmas, pay them off by the end of summer and start the cycle over again the next Christmas.

When my brother went into drug rehab and insurance wouldn’t pay, Mom and Dad had absolutely no savings to draw from. They took out a second loan on the house and are now in worse financial shape than ever. It’s depressing. They’re always tired and worried. I can’t see how they’ll ever dig themselves out of this hole. Antonio?”

“Mom works day and night to support the family. Dad’s a deadbeat. He’s always either looking for a job or complaining about the job he has. Money’s definitely a big issue at home. Mom and Dad argue all the time about it. It gets so bad that I fear Dad will eventually pack up and leave.”

(Enter Coach Helms.)

“Okay class. Sorry to be late. I recognize all of you from previous suspensions, so I’ll dispense with introductory matters. Please open your text books and get to work.”

“Coach Helms, we’ve got problems,” interjected Akashi.

“Hello! That’s why you’re in ISS, Right?” offered Coach Helms.

“Not those problems,” explained Akashi. “I’m talking about family problems. Our parents suck with their money.”

“Tell me about it,” said Coach Helms. “I wish I had some answers, but I overslept this morning because I work a night job to make ends meet. I can’t seem to make it on my teacher’s salary.”

“Is everyone in this town hopeless with their money?” asked Akashi. “If you don’t give us some answers, we’ll end up just like our parents – broke, tired and whining all the time. You’re supposed to be our teacher. Give us some direction here.”

Coach Helms thought for a moment, tapping his pencil nervously on the desk. Without looking up, he said, “What about Mrs. Kramer?”

“Old widow Kramer, the Social Studies teacher?” asked James. “I had her for a class. She dresses worse than my grandma…and her car isn’t anything to brag about.”

“She may not look the part,” said Coach Helms, “but my banker says she’s the best money manager he knows. She’s got all kinds of investments going. Besides Social Studies and Business, she also teaches Money Management.”

“Come to think of it,” continued James, “I remember her being hyped about her world travels. I wondered how she paid for it on a teacher’s salary. Maybe she got a big life insurance claim when her husband died. But she can be a little scary…and those riddles….”

“Her personality…,” continued Coach Helms. “She’s definitely a work of art. More Picasso than Norman Rockwell. Been around students so long that I think she’s more comfortable with teens than adults. Hardly ever see her in the teacher’s lounge. Speaks your language.

She eats second lunch. How about this? I’ll let you eat second lunch. Try to connect with her. Until then, get out those notebooks. I want to see some progress.”

Hmmm…

1. What are your friends and relatives doing right with their finances that you’d like to emulate?

2. What are your friends and relatives doing wrong with their finances that you’d like to avoid?

3. What would you like to learn most about making and managing your money?

4. For more free discussions and activities for each chapter, visit www.enjoyyourmoney.org.

Old Widow Kramer

Fast Forward to Reunion

“So we met her for lunch, and she told us her story,” Amy continued. “Tell him about it, Mrs. Kramer.”

“At thirty years of age, my husband died of cancer, leaving me, not with a fat life insurance pay out, but with over $20,000 in credit card debt and funeral expenses. The monthly payments on those debts were killing me. Every time the phone rang, I knew a debt collector would be on the other end, hounding and threatening me.

So I sold my house and moved into a condo to pay down my debts and reduce my expenses (and avoid mowing that blasted yard). Then, I took a weekend job. The extra job also helped keep my mind off of my grief. I worked like a dog to dig my way out of debt and get those accursed creditors off my back. In a little over four years, I paid those debts in full, on a day I refer to as ‘one of the best days of my life.’ I felt soooo free!

From that experience, I got a bad taste in my mouth about debt. I avoided it like the plague. I vowed to never again make credit card payments unless it was absolutely necessary.

I still owed about $15,000 on the condo, so I kept my weekend job, putting all my extra money into paying it down. I was amazed at how quickly I paid it off. I was totally debt free! Nobody could take my home from me. It was mine.

With very few expenses, I quit my weekend job and divided the money I used to make in payments into investments, travel and giving to worthy causes. So far, I’ve saved up about $500,000 toward an early retirement.”

“From $20,000 in debt to $500,000 in savings!” reiterated Amy. “That was quite an impressive story – actually, a bit unbelievable at the time.”

Amy continued. “From that short lunch, we knew that there was a lot more wisdom where that came from. And it was more than book wisdom. It came from her experience. She had beaten the system that was killing our parents. If we could learn her lessons at age 18, she could save us tons of headaches along the way.”

“More than that,” added James, “I decided that she just might hold the key to my dream of making a million dollars by my fortieth birthday and taking early retirement.”

“My needs were more emotional,” admitted Akashi. “My older siblings were academic overachievers. My parents drilled into me that ‘A’s in school would set me up for an ‘A’ career and an ‘A’ life. But somehow I’d botch up every class with ‘C’s and ‘D’s, which I thought would guarantee me a ‘C-Minus’ life. I was a loser, and felt that everyone saw a huge ‘L’ tattooed on my forehead. I acted tough, but was scared stiff at the thought of meeting with Mrs. Kramer. Yet, I felt that she offered a glimmer of hope. I was desperate. What did I have to lose?”

“We asked her if she would meet us for breakfast once a week,” continued Amy, “to ask questions and learn more. She said that she’d love to, if we’d pay her $5.00 each per breakfast. She explained that it would be a good lesson for us to pay for wise counsel.

For the next year, we met with her every Saturday morning, here at Hash Brown’s. Sometimes, we’d discuss a book for a month of meetings. Other times, we’d just ask questions. We’ll just tell you about the meetings where she pulled out her notebook and covered new topics. Each week, she exposed us to stuff we’d never learned, either at school or at home. Those meetings changed our lives.”

Hmmm…

Was it really possible for Mrs. Kramer to go from $20,000 in debt to $500,000 in savings in a span of about 30 years?

What keeps most people from making such a dramatic turnaround?

What could have kept Mrs. Kramer from getting into her predicament in the first place?

Part One

Investing Money

Breakfast #1

Discover the Basics

“I remember that first meeting well,” volunteered Antonio, wincing. “I’ll tell about the first two breakfasts.

So, I stroll in at 9:04 to find everyone there, waiting on me.”

Flashback

Kramer: You’re four minutes late!

Antonio: I have a hard time getting places on time.

Kramer: When you’re late, you waste our time. Half of success, financial or otherwise, is showing up…on time. It’s so important that I’ll lay out some incentive. If you’re late next week, you pay for the entire breakfast by yourself.

Fast Forward to Reunion

“Everyone but me thought it a splendid idea, so my resistance was outvoted. I was more than a little ticked off, threatening that I just might not show up at all next week. Kramer nonchalantly replied that it was my choice. We learned quickly that if we wanted her advice, it would be on her terms, not ours. She ignored my pouty expression and continued.”

Flashback

Kramer: So you want to learn how to handle your money. Well, if I talk the entire time, I don’t get to eat. So let’s do it this way. We order our food. While we wait for it to come, I tell a story or throw out five to ten minutes of advice while you think and jot down notes.

After the food comes, everyone throws in their thoughts. I want to know your experiences with the concept, good or bad. Take your best shots at my ideas. Too much education these days is merely transferring a set of notes from the teacher to the students, without it going through the minds of either.

I’m not easily offended. Tell me why it won’t work for you. Your objections and comments will help us distill each concept into something that will work for you. At the end of each session, tell us what you want to deal with the next week. That way, we stay practical. Sound good to you?

(Everyone agreed as the waiter arrived to take our orders.)

Kramer: First, I’ll pass out a sheet that should help you to lighten up on your parents. I know that you think they’re totally incompetent buffoons with finances. I want you to understand the bigger picture of our culture, a big part of the reason for their money issues. Your parents’ neighbors, friends and relatives probably handle their money the same way. They’re just doing what their culture has taught them. When everybody’s doing it, it’s hard to question your way of life.

James: You’re saying that if I were to live with my neighbors for awhile, I’d likely find the same financial problems that Mom and Dad have? I’ve assumed that their nice cars and smiling faces meant that they were better off than me.

Kramer: Wrong assumption. Here’s the way many of your friends and neighbors manage their money.

Personal Finances in America

According to surveys:

Ninety-seven percent of workers over 45 say they regret how they spent their money, in light of how much they could have saved.1

Almost one in four adults live paycheck to paycheck.2

Fifty-nine percent of Americans don’t save regularly.3

We’re getting worse and worse at saving.4

Twenty-five years ago, Americans saved over ten percent of their income.

Ten years ago, we saved 4.5 percent.

By 2005, for the first time since the Great Depression, we spent more than we earned.

Approximately 1,500,000 Americans declare personal bankruptcy each year.5

The average college student graduates with over $20,000 in debt.6

Most Americans haven’t even calculated how much money they need to retire.7

Personal debt is reaching record highs, and personal savings is reaching all time lows.8

James: That’s insane! I’d hoped that retirement would be the time for me to say goodbye to the eight to five grind and relax at a beach house. If I follow the crowd in finances, I’ll be worrying about money the rest of my life!

Akashi: One in four adults living paycheck to paycheck? Talk about risky living! And adults complain about teens’ risky behaviors! A short-term job loss or illness could put them in serious debt and make them lose their houses.

Amy: The scary side of it for me is that if we don’t do something different, we’ll all be over $20,000 in debt in about six years. Then we’ll go to work and live paycheck to paycheck, until we retire in a low rent district, watching Wheel of Fortune on one of our four antenna stations, constantly whining about how we regret the way we lived our lives and don’t have enough money to have any fun.

Akashi: Our kids will probably hate our visits, assuming we’re there to ask for another handout!

Kramer: Exactly! Somehow, you’ve got to break loose from a culture that’s gone crazy with its finances. Many dig themselves into a deeper hole every day, enjoying life less and less as they spend everything they’ve got to pay off past debts. In the land of the free, they’ve become financially enslaved.

(Kramer gets a wild look in her eyes, more animated with each sentence as she rises from her seat.)

You’re already different from the mainstream. That’s why I relate to you. I challenge you to extend your independent thinking and counterculture attitudes to your finances.

And to that end (she pulls back a glass ketchup bottle high overhead with both hands, waving it menacingly in the air), I christen this group (she brings the bottle back down with increasing speed, aimed directly at the table), THE COUNTERCULTURE CLUB!

(She pulls back the bottle at the last second, missing the table, but sending her students scattering all directions. Kramer erupts into laughter.)

Amy: You scared me to death! Did you really have to embarrass us in front of all these people to make that point?

Kramer: A little adrenaline is good to help cement points in your memory. You’ll never forget this moment. Plus, if you never get over the “Oh my gosh, what’s everybody gonna think?” thing, you’ll find yourself living everyone else’s life, the life of your culture, rather than your own life. I like a little drama now and again to spice things up. Later today I’ll get a good laugh out of picturing your faces as you envisioned ketchup exploding all over the restaurant.

James: (Settling back into his chair.) A good laugh at our expense! Don’t be surprised if you find toilet paper in your yard from your favorite club to test your own embarrassment index. So where were we? Something about how our culture sucks at finances?

Kramer: From the stats on my handout, you know how NOT to handle your finances – the way most others handle their finances. You’ve seen it in your parents and now in the culture at large. Let’s transition to how we can do finances right. This being the first breakfast, let’s start with an overview – some basics of financial wisdom. In the coming weeks, we’ll devote entire breakfasts to each principle.

But instead of handing out the list, I want you to draw out the basics from a real person who went counterculture with her finances. From decades of teaching, I’ve found that students remember stories better than lists; plus, stories are more interesting. As I tell the story, jot down the principles that you think made the person successful.

Oseola Enjoys Life and Saves a Fortune

Some of us might fear that we’ll never have enough money to make ends meet and enjoy life. What if your job doesn’t pay well, and you can’t seem to get ahead? I want to introduce you to Oseola, who has a lot to teach us. She didn’t have the advantages of most of us, yet she enjoyed life and saved a ton.

Oseola grew up in a simple house with her grandmother, mother and an aunt. As an eight-year-old, she would wash clothes after school to help make ends meet. Her school education ended at age 12, when she dropped out to care for her sick aunt and work full time at washing.

So far, she’s not on anyone’s “most likely to succeed” list.

Her work was hard, but she enjoyed it. She washed the old-fashioned way: building a fire under her wash pot, then soaking, washing and boiling a bundle of clothes. Rub. Wrench. Rub again. Rinse. Starch. Hang out to dry. She worked Monday through Saturday, for 75 years, until arthritis forced her into retirement at age 86. She never got to finish school, never had a car and owned few possessions. Her TV received only one station. But that didn’t bother her because she never watched it very much anyway.

I can hear you thinking, ”Get a life, woman!” But, you see, Oseola did have a life – a great life. She didn’t desire travel or possessions. She loved her God, her family and her work. Singing and storytelling filled her days with joy and laughter.

She never bought on credit so that she would be financially free. And since she didn’t need money for a lot of possessions or travel, she invested it, a little each month. By July 1995, a half year after her retirement, she had saved – get this – $280,000. That’s over a quarter of a million dollars! Then, she stunned the world by giving away over half of it, $150,000, to establish a college scholarship for needy students, offering others the education she never had.

Until recently, Oseola McCarty referred to herself as a ”poor little old colored woman who walked everywhere.” No one paid her much attention when she was out. But when the word leaked out about her donation, the world took notice.

She has since received numerous awards, been interviewed on ABC, CNN, NBC, BET and MTV. She’s been featured in Newsweek, The New York Times, People, Life, Ebony, Essence and Jet. But all that recognition never changed her simple life. You see, she didn’t need all the recognition. In her own words, ”I think my secret was contentment. I was happy with what I had.”9

Now, compare her to most Americans. Many with huge salaries haven’t managed to save a cent. Many are worth less than nothing, worrying constantly about their debts. But Oseola shows me that if she can save over a quarter of a million dollars by washing people’s clothes in boiling water over a fire, I can save money as a schoolteacher.

So, what do you think?

Reflections on Oseola

Akashi: I’ll start. I think her life sucked. She spent her entire life in a hovel working the same crappy job day in and day out, with only one TV channel for entertainment. She didn’t even own a car. What kind of life is that?

Antonio: Akashi! Mrs. Kramer is trying to help us out here. Don’t be so hard on her!

Kramer: I’m the one who sets the ground rules, and I challenge you to be just as outspoken as Akashi. If you other three sit there smiling at each other and sipping your juice while disagreeing in your gut, we’re getting nowhere. Say what you think. Be ruthless.

Jack Welch, one of the greatest business leaders of our time, devoted an entire chapter of his book Winning to push for candor.10 He observes that we usually don’t tell it like it is, fearing we’ll hurt people’s feelings. He thinks lack of candor is deadly to business.

Lack of candor may be easier in the short-run, but it hurts us in the long-run. Without candor, we don’t face reality. Be honest, guys! Do you agree with Akashi?

Antonio: I’ll be candid with you, Akashi. In ISS you complained about your parents being so wrapped up in their work and living in a ritzy neighborhood that they didn’t have time for the important stuff, like family.

Oseola chose relationships over things. She enjoyed working at home, spending time with her relatives and helping others. She didn’t secretly desire to get the latest version of Halo or go to Disneyland. She lived life the way she wanted to, had lots of fun and can look back with the satisfaction of knowing she helped others along the way.

Think of Einstein. He never drove a car. He enjoyed thinking more than mansions and hot cars.

Akashi: You nailed me. As much as I complain about my parents’ obsession with things and money, I’m pretty hooked on some of my things, like always upgrading to the latest cell phone, playing online games till late at night and the freedom that my car gives me.

But fun is different for everyone. I do admire Oseola for bucking the crowd, choosing her own path, finding financial freedom and putting people first.

Kramer: We don’t have to adopt everything about her life. But what can we learn from her financial success?

James: I’m astounded that she could accumulate such wealth from what must have been a pitiful salary.

Amy: I think it’s actually pretty simple. She spent less than she made. With no car, low-cost housing and no frivolous spending, she could save more than a lawyer who has a great salary but spends it all on his ritzy house and payments on his Porsche. The first thing I learned from Oseola is: Live beneath your means. All of our parents make tons more than Oseola, but I’ll bet you that everything they get on Friday is spent by the next Thursday. You can’t save if you spend all that you make.

Akashi: Look not only at what she did, but what she didn’t do. She didn’t own even one credit card. Whereas most of us spend outrageous money in interest, she waited till she could pay cash. I’ll bet that one habit saved her thousands and thousands of dollars.

Kramer: You bet right, Akashi. In Oseola’s own words,

”I save my money till I can buy something outright.”11

Akashi: So, principle number two is: Avoid paying interest.

Antonio: Principle number three: Save for the future. If she had a medical emergency, she wouldn’t have to sell her house to pay for it.

James: She took the money that she would have been paying the credit card companies and invested it, so that she was receiving interest rather than giving it away. Over time, it all added up. Principle number four: Invest over time.

Antonio: She worked hard at something she enjoyed. Even a small salary adds up when you put in the hours.

Kramer: I think you’ve summed up the basics of financial wisdom. Think about those principles this week, and see how they apply to your personal finances. In future weeks, we’ll talk in much more depth about each principle. What do you want to cover next week?

James: I’m fascinated with how Oseola multiplied her money. I want to be financially independent as quickly as possible. How can investments multiply my money so that I can retire in my 40’s?

Kramer: Is that okay with everyone else?

(Nods all around.)

Hmmm…

What facts from the “Personal Finances in America” sheet bother you the most? Why?
Why do you think Americans struggle with their finances?
How would your personal finances be different if you handled them more like Oseola?
Are you living above or below your means? How could you begin living below your means and saving some money each week?
What can you do this week to start handling your money better?
Assignment

This week, ask your parents to tell you what they know about investments. Go on the Internet and read some basic articles on stocks and mutual funds. You’ll need to bring your calculators. What I’ll tell you is so extraordinary that you won’t believe it unless you see the numbers yourselves.

One more thing! I have a riddle for you to solve:

To some I’m their greatest nightmare
To others their greatest friend.
Neither spirit nor flesh
I’m not hard to comprehend.

I increase the wealth
Of both paupers and kings,
Rewarding the wise,
Robbing fools of their dreams.

I work when you work
Just as hard when you sleep.
With me Buffett made billions
If you sow, you can also reap.

I’m slow at the beginning
‘Till my power is unfurled.
It’s why bankers and investors say,
“You’re the eighth wonder of the world.”

Resource to Take You Deeper

Read Oseola McCarty, Simple Wisdom for Rich Living, (Atlanta: Longstreet Press, 1996).

*********************************
Please do not construe this book as the author’s or publisher’s prescription for your personal finances. Only a qualified financial counselor who knows your specific life circumstances, your personality, your goals and your objectives might be qualified to advise you in these matters.

Enjoy Your Money! Copyright © 2008 by Wisdom Creek Press, LLC. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief reviews. For information contact Wisdom Creek Press, LLC, 5814 Sailboat Pointe, Acworth, Georgia, 30101, www.wisdomcreekpress.com.

Cover design by Carole Maugé-Lewis
Front Cover Photography by Rasmus Rasussen

Author Photo by Christina Cosenza

Typesetting by Callisa Ink & Co and Carole Maugé-Lewis

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Miller, J. Steve, 1957-

Enjoy Your Money! : how to make it, save it, invest it and give it : the adventures of the Counterculture Club/ by J. Steve Miller.

p.cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

LCCN: 2008941060

ISBN-13: 978-0-9818756-7-5

ISBN-10: 0-9818756-7-X

1. Finance, Personal. I. Title.

HG179.M4919 2009 332.024

QB109-200015

Take Time to Remember

November 11th, 2009

                          

A Climate for Change

November 9th, 2009

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card authors are:
Katharine Hayhoe and

Andrew Farley

and the book:

A Climate for Change: Global Warming Facts for Faith-Based Decisions

FaithWords (October 29, 2009)

***Special thanks to Valerie M. Russo of the Hachette Book Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORs:

Katharine Hayhoe is a professor in the Department of Geosciences at Texas Tech University and CEO of ATMOS Research, a scientific consulting company. She contributed her research to and served as Expert Reviewer for the Nobel Prize-winning Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Katharine’s work has been presented before the U.S. Congress, highlighted by state and federal agencies, and featured in over 200 newspapers and media outlets around the world.

Visit the author’s website.

Andrew Farley is the lead teaching pastor of Ecclesia (www.EcclesiaOnline.com) and co-hosts Real Life in Christ, a 30-minute program that airs every week on ABC-TV in the West Texas area. Andrew served as a professor at the University of Notre Dame for five years and is now a tenured professor at Texas Tech University. Andrew has coauthored three textbooks and more than a dozen journal articles. He is also the author of The Naked Gospel: The Truth You May Never Hear in Church.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $22.99
Hardcover: 224 pages
Publisher: FaithWords (October 29, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0446549568
ISBN-13: 978-0446549561
Product Dimensions: 9 x 6 x 1 inches

ISLAND BREEZES

This book still hasn’t convinced me.  I’m really trying to make it through to the end.  My review copy didn’t have all the grafts, figures and tables that the author keeps mentioning.  I think having those available will make it easier for the reader.

If you’re trying to convince me of the validity of the global warming theory, you shouldn’t start off telling me that from 1998 to 2008 shows that the world actually cooled, but it doesn’t count.  Excuse me?  It doesn’t count because it hasn’t been happening long enough?  Maybe that’s because we haven’t been that far past 2008 to have any more data than that. 

I really would like to see his “hockey stick” diagram.  It apparently shows that we had an Ice Age, Medieval Warming and then the Little Ice Age.  Now more warming, and what comes next according to this diagram?  Maybe it’s the cooling again?

In chapter 4, the ostrich is referenced as an example of what Christians should not do when confronted with an issue that we prefer would just go away.  Is he referring to the myth about the ostrich sticking it’s head into the sand when danger is present?  If he doesn’t even research this, how much research is really behind his global warming theory? 

He lists many sources for his research, including Al Gore, who made a lot of money from his book and movie.  It didn’t take Britain long to debunk Al Gore’s theory.  Now, even kids have Gore figured out.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t make an effort to protect our environment.  I drive one of the first hybrids to come out.  I have replaced my bulbs with CFLs.  I recycle and have tried to drastically reduce my use of plastics and disposables.  That does not mean I’m convinced that the global warming theory is more than a theory.  It means that as a Christian, I choose to take care of all that with which I’ve been blessed by my Creator.  It does not mean that I’ll ever be in favor of the “cap and tax” bill which will drive us even deeper into a depression. 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Aleph – Keepers of God’s Law are Blessed

November 8th, 2009

  Happy are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord.

Happy are those who keep his decrees, who seek him with their whole heart, who also do no wrong, but walk in his ways.

You have commanded your precepts to be kept diligently.

O that my ways may be steadfast in keeping your statues!

Then I shall not be put to shame, having my eyes fixed on all your commandments.

I will praise you with an upright heart, when I learn your righteous ordinances.

I will observe your statues; do not utterly forsake me.

Psalm 119:1-8

Character Driven: Life, Lessons, and Basketball

November 5th, 2009

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:
Derek Fisher

and the book:

Character Driven: Life, Lessons, and Basketball

Touchstone (September 8, 2009)

***Special thanks to Mallika Dattatreya of Touchstone/Fireside Publicity, Simon & Schuster, Inc for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Derek Fisher has spent twelve seasons in the NBA playing for the Los Angeles Lakers, Golden State Warriors, and Utah Jazz. He is the president of the NBA Players Association. Currently the starting point guard for the Lakers, he lives with his family in Los Angeles.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $24.99
Hardcover: 272 pages
Publisher: Touchstone (September 8, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1416580530
ISBN-13: 978-1416580539

ISLAND BREEZES

I wasn’t really sure I wanted to read this book.  I grew up in Indiana where little boys have little basketballs as soon as they can walk.  The state is obsessed with basketball.  By the time I moved down to warmer climes, I was sick to death of basketball.  Why on earth did I feel compelled to read a book by a basketball player?

I’m so glad I’m reading it.  I’m not finished yet, but I won’t quit until I am.  I have so much respect for Derek Fisher, and now, for the game of basketball.  Since I’ve distanced myself from it for so long, I can be more objective.  I can also appreciate the correlation between Derek’s life lessons and the intricacies of basketball.

This book is not just for sports fans. This book is for all who are interested in having a character driven life.  You will find that the title of this book is aptly named for Derek Fisher.  Thank you Derek for giving me a deeper appreciation of the game as well as for the man behind the book.

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Character Driven
Life, Lessons, and Basketball

Derek Fisher

with Gary Brozek

A Touchstone Book

Published by Simon & Schuster

New York London Toronto Sydney

Chapter One: Putting Your Skills to the Best Use

When people found out that my wife Candace and I were expecting a child, more than a few of them said, “Your life is about to change.” Candace and I both had a child from a previous relationship, so we had some idea of the truth of that statement. What we didn’t know was the extent of how much our lives were going to be altered several months after our twins, Tatum and Drew were born. I don’t know if having twins changes your life twice as much, but when you find out that one of your newborn children has a serious illness like cancer, very little in your life and your routine remains the same. We suspected that something was wrong with one of Tatum’s eyes; after first dismissing the difference in its appearance as parental paranoia, we took her to a specialist. When we learned that she had a rare but very dangerous form of cancer known as retinoblastoma—a tumor of the retina—it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the doctor’s office.

After we were told initially that there was little hope of saving Tatum’s eye, we were stunned momentarily and that pit of the stomach sinking feeling could have overwhelmed us. I don’t want to trivialize the situation by comparing my daughter’s dire diagnosis to the game of basketball, because truth to be told thoughts of my career, the Utah Jazz’s prospects for the playoffs and any thoughts of winning a championship were very, very far from my mind. My energies were concentrated on doing whatever I could to help my daughter and support my wife who was understandably upset and fearful. I was experiencing a lot of the same emotions as Candace, but I could sense that this was particularly hard on her. Her maternal instincts were running at their highest level and they had been for some time prior to the diagnosis and prior to her pregnancy. Prior to her getting pregnant with the twins, we’d experienced a miscarriage. Losing that child was a blow to both of us, one that we’d recovered from to a certain degree, but not something we had by any means forgotten about.

In the wake of that sad event, we’d decided to explore other medical options to insure a safe and full term pregnancy. As a result, we’d seen a few fertility specialists, and we’d made the decision to go with what we were told would most likely be a safer alternative—in vitro fertilization. My whole life, I’ve been someone who looks at all the alternatives and choices before making a decision based on a careful risk / reward analysis. If the doctors we were dealing with felt that in vitro fertilization offered us the best chances of having a child, then that’s what we were going to do. I can still remember sitting in that doctor’s office talking about everything that needed to be done. I was able to block out all thoughts that in vitro wasn’t normal or natural and that the procedure would be done in a lab instead of in the privacy of our own home. What mattered was the results. Candace and I both were very eager to have a family together, and so we were going to do whatever it took to make that dream come true.

I do have to admit to trepidation in regards to one part of the procedure. To increase the chances of having a viable fetus develop and to avoid having to go through the painful procedure of harvesting one of Candace’s eggs, we were told that it would be good idea to fertilize and then implant more than one ovum at a time. If they “took,” we could decide if we wanted to bring those ova to full term. Candace and I knew that we would of course not destroy one or more of the eggs, so we had to decide just how much we wanted to increase the odds of our successfully producing a child together. I was cool with the idea of having twins, but when the doctor said that we could go for three if we wanted to, I had to call a time out. I looked at Candace and she looked at me. We each did some elementary school math and came to the same conclusion. There were two of us, and if God willing Candace would get pregnant with twins, we could each handle one of the twins at a time. Two parents, two hands/arms each, two children. That would work. Any number of children above that would make the math, and the amount of work we’d have to do that much harder. If circumstances were different, and we didn’t have any kind of control over the situation and God willed that we would have triplets or even more children, then we’d have accepted that also.

We looked at the doctor and said, “Two, please.”

My career as a basketball player came into play when Tatum was diagnosed and the way I was able to handle the situation. Like many people, I believe that God never puts on our plates more than we can handle, and that everything that happens in our lives fits into a pattern of His creation. When you are faced with challenges like Candace and I were, all the choices and decisions and experiences you have had leading up to the specific moment of having a seriously ill child fall into place. Because I’d dedicated my life to basketball, because I had been in pressure packed situations, and because to succeed in basketball I had to understand the role of focus, tenacious diligence, teamwork, and sacrifice, we were all able to do what it took to secure a successful outcome for Tatum. Ultimately, whether or not Tatum’s eye would be saved was out of our hands and in the hands of God. I truly believe that, but there were a lot of other human beings who made that possible. I do know that looking back at all those choices I made that lead us to those wonderfully skilled individuals who did save her eye, there was ample evidence of the guiding hand of God at work. We asked Him to lead us and were comfortable with knowing that His will would be done, and we put the power of prayer to use.

Let me give you one example of how a choice I made in my life paid unexpected dividends down the line. We were fortunate to have a family friend who worked in a medical school library and was familiar with all kinds of print and electronic resources. When Tatum was diagnosed and we were essentially told that our only option was to have Tatum’s eye removed so that the cancer would not spread, my basketball training and God’s intervention combined to make me realize that I needed to pass the ball off. This was not a shot I could take independent of the team; I needed to turn to forces greater than my own. I really believe that God put this friend in my life to do more than just someone to socialize with. He put her there because with his medical background, she was someone I could turn to to do the kind of research and study to find an alternative to surgically removing my precious daughter’s eye. With her background and training, she was able to quickly sift through much of the medical literature that existed and report back to Candace and me.

We knew that time was running out and the longer it took us to find alternatives, the riskier those procedures might be. Cancer has unflagging energy, and we knew that with each passing day, the tumor was growing. Candace and I could have tried to do all the research on our own, but poring through medical journals to try to understand all the complications and even just the possible approaches to treatment would have cost us precious time. Even developing a basic understanding of the options and then trying to track down doctors who either did those alternative procedures or who might be able to explain better to us what the potential risks were with those procedures was not something we could do either. The clock was winding down, and we knew we needed to rely on someone who could quickly cut through the lingo and technical aspects of the treatment options and feed us the information as quickly as humanly possible. As a point guard, I have always had to assess the situation on court and distribute the ball to those who are the in best position to score. Evaluating time on the clock, the score, the opposition’s strengths and weakness, and a dozen more factors are things I’ve spent nearly a life time doing. I had some idea those skills would transfer to life off the court, but being able to assess circumstances and make decisions quickly under such extreme non-basketball circumstances, put those skills to the test in ways I had never anticipated.

That our friend was able to find out that two doctors at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York had experimented with a radical new treatment, one they’d only performed on fourteen patients and had never published the results of those early clinical trials, is in my mind, nothing short of a miracle. Those doctors had just begun the treatment in 2006—a year before Tatum was diagnosed. Another stroke of good fortune we could add to our score. When Candace and I sat in an office speaking with Dr. David Abramson and Dr. Pierre Gobin, they at first told us that the only real choice we had was to have Tatum’s eye removed. I’m sure that they figured that we were parents doing their due-diligence work, getting a second and third opinion hoping against hope that we could avoid the negative outcome of surgically removing our daughter’s affected eye. Of course, if removal of the eye meant preventing the possible spread of the cancer, and that was truly our only option, we would have agreed with that course of treatment. Something had told us, in the face of all the other opinions that lined up with Dr. Abramson and Dr. Gobin’s initial assessment, that we had to dig deeper. If nothing else, we wanted to hear that dire prognosis from the best doctors in the field, and Dr. Abramson was considered the go to guy in the area of retinoblastoma.

Like most people, I’d heard of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (though I knew it simply as “Sloan-Kettering”) even if I’d been fortunate to that point on not ever having had any firsthand experience with the place for myself or any of my family members and friends. I knew that it was a state of the art cutting edge facility recognized world-wide as one of the most advanced cancer treatment and research facilities out there. What I came to learn as we pursued this option as a potential treatment for Tatum was that the doctors at Sloan-Kettering had a long history of advancing treatment of the rare cancer affecting our baby girl’s eye. In the 1930’s, doctors there had come up with the first treatments that successfully managed the disease. Prior to that, I learned, being diagnosed with retinoblastoma was essentially a literal death sentence. Survival rates for the disease were incredibly low back then. Fortunately, thanks to the work of many doctors and researchers, the odds have increased significantly, though in most cases the patient ends up losing the afflicted eye.

The cancer is rare, only about 350 children in the United States are diagnosed with retinoblastoma each year, but it is the most common type of eye cancer among children. Worldwide, approximately 5,000 children are afflicted with this cancer and about half that number eventually die from it. I say “only” in regard to the number of children in the U.S. with the disease (compared to almost 3,000 kids with leukemia for example) but for every child and every parent of a child diagnosed with the disease, that number is far too large. In most cases, the disease is the result of a randomly occurring mutation in chromosome thirteen. Most often, the affected child is the first in the family to have the disease and it is only about ten percent of the cases that the mutation is inherited from one of the parents. Candace and I weren’t so concerned at that point about the cause of Tatum’s cancer, we were mainly concerned with treatment options. We were fortunate to find Dr. Abramson. He was the Chief of the Ophthalmic Oncology Service at Sloan-Kettering and in the ‘70s had trained under one of the leading experts in the field of eye cancer treatment, Dr. Algernon Reese at Colombian Presbyterian Medical Center. Dr. Reese, an ophthalmologist, and Dr. Hayes Martin, a surgeon had pioneered the use of radiation treatments in eye cancer in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Dr. Abramson and his team continued to advance treatment options including the type of chemoeradication (shrinking the tumor with chemotherapy) technique our friend had learned about.

When I asked them about their experimental treatment, intra-arterial chemotherapy, they seemed surprised. As Doctor Abramson later said in a New York Times interview, “I’m not sure how he knew about . . . . He must have done a lot of homework.” Thanks to Thomas, I had been able to copy someone else’s homework. Spreading the ball around, and trusting that a teammate will execute under pressure proved to be a wise move. Dr. Abramson and Dr. Gobin stepped up for us and agreed that if Candace and I were willing to take the risk, they were willing to do the procedure. We knew that we had to do everything we could to save Tatum’s eye. The decision was in that way easy. Subjecting your infant daughter to anything, even a regularly scheduled immunization is hard. Sitting there in that office, floors above the growl and hum of mid-town Manhattan, we took a deep breath, trusted that the Lord had led us to this place for a good reason, and signed the consent forms and did all the other necessary paperwork.

Obviously, there is never a good time to have anyone in your life become sick, but the circumstances of Tatum’s diagnosis was marked by all kinds of potential pitfalls. We were in the process of moving from the Bay area to Salt Lake City. I had been traded during the off season, but with the kids still infants and lots of loose ends to tie up, it didn’t make sense to move right away that summer. I’m sure a lot of you can relate to idea of moving and having to find new doctors, deal with health insurance companies (we were fortunate to have good coverage) and all the issues of who’s in network, who’s not. Candace had been concerned that something wasn’t quite right with Tatum’s eye, had been assured by our pediatrician that nothing was wrong. Only when we finally settled in Salt Lake City and Candace pursued second and third opinions did Dr. Katy McGelligot confirm my wife’s suspicions. I was at practice when the voice mail message came in telling me that we needed to get to a pediatric ophthalmologist that afternoon. I joined them there and I was glad that we had been persistent and followed Candace’s gut instinct that told her that something was wrong. If we had waited and if we’d let the red tape of insurance companies and all that deter us, I don’t know what the outcome could have been.

Call it a mother’s intuition, call it her keen sense of observation, call it the Lord moving in mysterious ways, but whatever you call it, we were grateful that we had acted on Candace’s suspicions. Neither of us had ever heard the word retinoblastoma before, and to be honest, I’d never even thought that people could have cancer of the eye. In most ways, Tatum was a typical ten-month-old child. Being part of a pair of fraternal twins, Drew and Tatum were going to be subject to a lot of comparisons, maybe more than other siblings. When they were born, Tatum had darker skin than Drew whose coloring was more cocoa. He had a lot more hair than Tatum, though now that isn’t the case, and he was always a lot less patient than her. When Drew was hungry, everyone in the house, and probably the surrounding neighborhood, knew that he was in need of food. He had to nurse or get a bottle immediately and there was nothing we could do to persuade him to just hold on for a minute. Tatum, on the other hand, would wake from a nap and assess the situation, come fully awake and alert, and then she’d eat. Even from her earliest days, she seemed quite playful and mischievous, more capable of demonstrating a bit of an attitude.

What Candace noticed was that sometimes when she looked into Tatum’s eyes, something didn’t seem quite right to her. She couldn’t articulate exactly what was wrong, and each time I looked into my little girl’s eyes, I was so in love that I couldn’t imagine there being anything wrong with her. I felt the same about Drew. They seemed to me to be God’s perfect little creations—even if they did fuss and cry a bit. Candace told me that what got her thinking something might be wrong was that sometimes when light shone in Tatum’s eye, it didn’t seem to reflect back the same way it did from her other one or in the same way it did from Drew’s. I’d learned in the more than ten years that I’d known Candace to trust her instincts. If she thought there was something wrong, then there had to be something wrong.

Candace noticed that in some photographs of Tatum, depending upon the angle one of Tatum’s eyes reflected back a white light. That white light is visible in the pupils of children with retinoblastoma. This is known as leukocoria or the “cat’s eye reflex.” Just as a cat’s pupil appears white in certain lighting, so will a child’s who has retinoblastoma or other eye conditions including Coat’s disease. Not in every case will that white reflection in photographs be a true indication of those serious conditions, but it is definitely worth checking out with a doctor. We learned all of this only after her diagnosis, and our doctors told us that it is a good idea to take a monthly flash photo of an infant and child to check for that tell-tale marker of a potential problem.

After the examination, when the doctor told us that he’d detected some abnormalities and what he suspected was a tumor, I felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. I remember grasping Candace’s shaking hand, and my mind rushing. The sensation was like what happens when you are driving a standard transmission car and you think you’re in gear but you’re in neutral. You hit the gas and you can hear and feel the vibration of the rapidly racing engine but you don’t increase your actual speed. I had thoughts bouncing all around my head, but I wasn’t making any kind of positive steps toward coherence.

Looking back on it, I now realize how could it have been otherwise? I’m not a real worrier by nature, and despite the difficulty Candace and I had experienced in having lost a child previously, I didn’t overly fixate on the list of possible bad things that could happen to the twins before or after they were born. I had lost some people close to me, usually through a long and protracted illness as was the case with my grandmother. I’d lost a few older relatives, but they had lived what seemed to me then to be long lives. Nothing could prepare me for someone telling me that my daughter had cancer. It was a life-altering moment, a kind of sign being driven into the ground indicating that there was a then and next there was to be a now. Facing the prospect that we could lose her, and not just that she might lose her eye, was unimaginably difficult to process in a short span of time.

In a way, hearing that news was also like I’d instantly done some mental spring cleaning and thrown away anything that wasn’t needed and put everything else neatly into order. As clichéd as it sounds, I knew in that moment that very little besides my daughter’s health and my family’s safety was what mattered. All the little gripes and complaints I might have had about how the season was going—even though things were going well—any nagging pain from overuse or injury, any thoughts about upcoming games, who I’d be matched up against, all that just neatly took their place in line—a long ways behind—one overriding concern: What were we going to do in order to help our daughter?

In the immediate, Tatum was given an MRI examination the next day that confirmed the diagnosis. We had a playoff game that night against Houston and I would suit up. At that point, no one except the Jazz owner Larry Miller and the General Manager Kevin O’Connor knew the specifics of the situation. They told me that I was under no pressure to play that night or at any other point during the playoffs. They agreed that Tatum’s condition and our privacy was mattered the most.

I had been making a mad rush from practice to doctor’s appointments to the hospital for tests that the reality of what was going on with our child hadn’t really sunk in. We’d won the game (details TK) and only when I sat in front of my locker after the game did the truth hit me, and it hit me hard. I sat staring blankly ahead of me, a towel draped over my shoulders. Guys filed past me and music began blaring. A few minutes later, reporters were allowed in, and they were just doing their job, but the last thing I wanted to do was to talk about the game, the series, or anything to do with basketball. All I could think of was what my daughter potentially faced. I didn’t want anyone to see the anguish I was experiencing, so I went into TK Brigg’s office, our trainer, and broke down. In some ways the game had been good for me, a distraction, but it only delayed the inevitable. I was devastated. That private moment of despair was good for me, helped me get it out of my system and refocus on the task at hand—how to overcome the dire diagnosis and what seemed at the time the absolute certainty that Tatum’s eye would have to be surgically removed.

The day after we met with Dr. Gobin and Dr. Abramson, Wednesday May 10th, 2007 Tatum would undergo the procedure at New York Presbyterian Hospital.

Dr. Abramson knew about the playoff game the Jazz had that night against the Golden State Warriors. As a former alternate on the 1960 men’s Olympic swimming team, he knew what an athlete’s life was like. He suggested that we could hold off doing the procedure until after the game. A delay of a just a few hours would have no effect on the outcome of the procedure or the viability of Tatum’s eye following it.

“Absolutely not,” I told him, “Just do what’s best for my child. How many games I miss in the playoffs is totally irrelevant.” I meant every word of that statement, and even when Dr. Abramson suggested some adjustments could be made to the schedule, I remained firm in the commitment I’d made to Candace and to Tatum. There hadn’t been any real need for discussion—Candace and I both knew that as difficult as the circumstances were, the decision about how to approach Tatum’s care was easy—spare no cost, leave no stone unturned, and put basketball where it belonged on my list of priorities. In other words, well below my family and its needs.

Doing the right thing came so easy because of the values that my mother Annette and my father John had instilled in me from the beginning. They made every sacrifice they could to enable me to be where I am today, and they demonstrated every day that you put your family member’s needs above your own. Doctor Abramson was simply trying to accommodate me and my needs, figure my career into the scheme, and I appreciated that, but there was never a question in my mind that we would do the procedure as soon as humanly possible. This was an aggressive and risky treatment, and the two men who pioneered it gave off an air of quiet confidence that I’d always appreciated in teammates. Not that they needed any more motivation, but just to show how the Lord does truly move in mysterious ways, Dr. Gobin, who grew up in France, had lived for a time in Los Angeles while working at the University of California at Los Angeles medical center. He was a die-hard fan of the NBA team there and remembered me from my days with the Lakers. Score another bucket for the home team.

I felt confident in the team we’d assembled. Doctor Gobin and Doctor Abramson were realistic but confident. I liked that about them both. They were as personable as could be without seeming smug or distant. They were clearly brilliant men, but it was their compassion and consideration for us as people and not just as a condition or an opportunity to test a procedure that could make them famous or wealthy or both that really impressed me. They didn’t push us to try something; instead, they only agreed to do it when we brought up the possibility. Their confidence and calm helped to settle our nerves a bit, but nothing could still them completely. Dr. Gobin, who specialized in something called Interventional NeuroRadiology, was another highly respected medical pioneer, primarily known for advanced treatment for stroke victims. In 2001, Dr. Gobin joined the Weill Cornell Medical College as Professor of Radiology and Neurosurgery, and the New York Weill Cornell Hospital as the Director, Division of Interventional Neuroradiology.

I didn’t know this at the time, but there was a third member of the medical team, Dr. Ira Dunkel, a pediatric oncologist who also worked with Dr. Abramson and Dr. Gobin to come up with this treatment option. The procedure would involve injecting a tumor-killing drug through a tiny blood vessel in the eye. The doctors explained that within fifteen seconds, the drug is directly on site in the tumor. It either destroys the tumor entirely and it disappears, or it becomes calcified.

I’ve been anxious before games before, but nothing compared to the jitters I experienced that night. From our hotel room, we could see Central Park spread below us, and I envied the imagined emotional ease with which I saw the runners and cyclists circling that great expanse of green. I’d heard that some people consider Central Park Manhattan’s lungs, a breath of fresh air squeezed from the concrete ribs that surround it. I wished I could exhale, heave a great sigh of relief, but as daylight turned to twilight and then into full on darkness, I found myself drawn to that window and knew that for me there was a very different reason why New York is the city that never sleeps.

In some ways, Tatum’s being an infant was a blessing. We didn’t have to explain to her the risks involved and she didn’t have to deal with the anxiety of knowing that she had cancer or that she faced a surgical procedure the next day. Unfortunately, we had no way to communicate to her that because of the sight-saving procedure she was going to undergo, she couldn’t eat. Normally a very happy and satisfied baby, being forced to go without food had her especially fussy that night and the next morning. For Candace and I, we’d both flipped a switch in our minds the instant we got the diagnosis. We’d been in caregiver and protection mode for weeks, and were in an especially high state of alert that morning. It tore us up to hear Tatum’s wails and to listen to them and to see her in distress was gut wrenching. We made a few calls back to Utah to make sure that Drew and my stepson Marshall were doing okay. A few more phone calls to family members to let them know what was going on gave us something to do once Tatum finally fell asleep. My mother assured me that the prayer circle with the church ladies back home in Little Rock was complete and doing the necessary work. Until that night I’d never really thought of the significance of the name of my hometown. A rock can be a weapon or a refuge, and as Jesus told St. Peter, it was upon that rock He was going to build his church. Home and family have always been my rock, a touchstone, a place on which the foundation of my life was built. I could add that to the list of the many blessings I’d been privileged to receive. Though I didn’t need to hear my mother telling me that those prayers were going out, it was nice to know that we had a whole bunch of folks on the sidelines and in the stands doing their very best to help my family get through this difficult time.

We knew that waiting while Tatum was in surgery was going to be the hardest part, and showing up at 7:00 a.m. for a 10:00 a.m. scheduled start was going to be difficult. When one of the surgical team members was called into a separate emergency and the procedure was delayed, that already protracted period of anxiety went into overtime. Though we weren’t guaranteed results, but had been encouraged by the news of the success rate among the fourteen patients who had previously undergone the treatment, we had a lot of faith in the doctors. Knowing that any kind of invasive procedure was inherently risky, and knowing that with an infant the veins and arteries in such a delicate and fragile part of the anatomy—the eye—required great precision had Candace and I both on edge. We’d read up on the procedure, knew that this was the one best chance we had, but still the thought of having toxins injected into your child’s system to attack a tumor was unsettling at best. I tried to stay focused on the positive, and was grateful that my years in the league had taught me how to fight off distractions. Prayer made that task much easier as well.

By the time we were instructed to put on masks and gowns so that we could escort Tatum into the operating room, a steady diet of adrenaline had begun to take its toll. Tatum too had exhausted herself, and I was grateful that she was asleep when Candace laid her down on the table. We both kissed her and told her that we loved her. I’ve faced some tough assignments in my life, but nothing compared to having to walk out of that room. I trusted the doctors and have faith in God, but leaving your child to face any kind of uncertainty or pain had me feeling like a brick was lodged in my throat. When I turned back to catch one last glimpse of Tatum before the procedure began, I was struck again by how small and vulnerable she looked surrounded by all the adults in the room and the various monitoring devices. Walking out of that operating room was the toughest part of this ordeal yet.

Most days when I have a game, I’m able to take a short nap to rest and restore my energy before heading to the arena. We’d been told that the procedure would take a couple of hours, and I spent nearly every second of that span of time on pins and needles. I was grateful that our friend was there with us; she and I spent most of the time talking about what we imagined the progress was and counting down the minutes until someone came out of the surgical area to give us the promised mid-session report. That report never came, for whatever reason, but when one of the team members came out to report that the procedure had gone well, I was enormously relieved. When we saw Tatum being wheeled past us in a kind of incubator, my heart did skip a beat—seeing her in that device, alone and isolated, had our hearts aching for her as we alongside her to the recovery room.

I was glad in some ways that we had a job to do while Tatum was in recovery. The procedure required that a line be inserted through her femoral artery in her upper thigh. The doctors didn’t want the incision to tear open, so we were given the job of keeping Tatum still. As each minute passed post-surgery and she came out of her anesthesia-induced slumber, she grew more and more active and agitated. The other concern was that she be able to keep down any fluids or food she was fed, so Candace and I worked together to be sure that those two tasks were taken care of. It felt great to have something to do to contribute to Tatum’s well being and comfort. I’m not someone who likes to give up control and the feelings of helplessness that I experienced during the procedure had started to work on me. Just being able to hold Tatum in our arms felt as if we’d been given some powerful medicine to calm us and soothe the aches in our hearts.

With the procedure completed and the early prognosis good, all we really could do was wait—both for Tatum to recover from the anesthesia and for the three weeks to lapse before we would return to see if the chemotherapy had the desired effect. With Tatum’s immediate safety and condition seemingly well in hand, I had a few moments when I could think about all that had happened. Through the weeks we struggled with Tatum’s health concerns, I’d been in close contact with the Utah Jazz organization, and they couldn’t have been more supportive. When Tatum was in recovery and sleeping again, I took the opportunity to call Kevin O’Connor, the team’s general manager to let him know Tatum’s status. I followed up that phone call with one to our coach, Jerry Sloan, simply to let him know how Tatum was doing. No one asked me if I’d be able to make that night’s game, no one pressured me in any way to commit to anything. They both simply were glad to hear that things had gone well for my daughter. That meant a lot to me. Though they were my bosses, work was something fairly far from their minds.

During my phone call with Coach Sloan, I’d let the team know that as much as I wanted to remain on the active roster for that night’s game, I understood that it really wasn’t my decision to make. Basketball, and our series with the Warriors diminished in importance compared to taking care of my family. That said, I still felt a sense of responsibility to my teammates, the organization, and the fans. We were, after all, in the playoffs, and needed to maintain our home court advantage with a win that night in Utah. The Jazz organization and fans had high hopes that we could make a run deep into the playoffs and win an NBA championship that had eluded them.

I had my priorities straight, but knowing that Tatum’s chemo treatment was an outpatient procedure, we had scheduled a return flight for that day regardless of the fact that we had a game back in Salt Lake City that night. The Jazz had helped us out greatly by assisting us in securing a private jet to take us back and forth. The only concern we had about flying so soon after the treatment was Tatum’s leg. We needed to keep her still. The main reasons we wanted to be back in Salt Lake City was to be with our large circle of supporters and to as quickly as possible restore some semblance of normalcy in our lives. Even though Drew was too young to fully understand what was going on, I’m sure he and Tatum both were picking up on the worried vibes that Candace and I were putting out despite our best attempts not to. Marshall, Candace’s son and my step-son, had been affected as well. He was well aware, at age twelve, of everything that was going on, and I knew from conversations that I had with him, he was both worried about his step-sister’s health and his mother’s mental state. He hated seeing her worried and upset, and the sooner we got back home to him and to our life and its routine the better it would be for all of us. I also put a call into the mother of my daughter Chloe. Though she was much younger than Marshall and couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on with her baby sister, I wanted to let her know that things were okay.

Once we got the okay to leave the hospital, we took the opportunity to get back to Salt Lake City as soon as possible. If we had any indication from the doctors that it would have been in our best interest to remain in New York, we would have done it. They assured us there was nothing more to be done except to wait to see if the drugs had the desired effect on Tatum’s tumor. We were also reassured in knowing that our friend was also a former registered nurse, and she could monitor the incision on Tatum’s leg and take all the steps necessary in case something happened. The doctors kept telling us that we were in good hands on the flight and were extraordinarily comfortable in having us leave.

In our minds, the major challenge was over—the procedure was done—the rest was out of our hands. That wasn’t the most comfortable place for either of to be in. We’re both take charge kind of people, but we’d trusted in what our friend had told us and then the doctors. Everything had worked out as well as could be expected to that point. Next, we just had to let go and trust that we’d done the best we could, prepared ourselves and executed the game plan to the best of our abilities. We put our faith in God, comfortable in knowing what a prayer warrior Candace had been throughout this time.

For as many times as I’d played in either New York or New Jersey and having lived in Los Angeles for much of my early adulthood, the drive through the west side of Manhattan to the Lincoln Tunnel didn’t do much to settle our nerves. I couldn’t help but think of Tatum’s delicate physiology and be amazed that these potent drugs had managed to work their way through her veins and arteries. In some ways I wished that when we came out on the New Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel that we’d be on the other side of this crisis. In some ways we were, but just as it felt being in the waiting room prior to the procedure, with little constructive activity we could perform to help Tatum’s cause. More waiting was ahead of us, but something told me that there was more that I could do.

Once we reached our cruising altitude and we made our way west, thoughts of our playoff series crept back in. I’d done the right thing by my family, and I had another job and another group of people I was beholden to. If I could help that second group out, I wanted to. I wasn’t certain if I was capable of shutting out everything that had transpired in the previous few days, but if nothing else, maybe by being there I’d help lend an emotional hand to my teammates. I had placed a second call to the Jazz’s front office personnel to let them know I was heading home. No one asked if I was coming to the arena, and I hadn’t volunteered any information other than that we were on our way back. I appreciated that no one in the Jazz organization put me under any kind of pressure to play that night. I still wasn’t certain as we flew over the darkening fields of the Midwest if I was even on the active roster for that night.

Another “coincidence” played in my favor. Our series was against the Golden State Warriors, a team I had played for from 2004-2006. I’d been traded just that off-season, and while some of the personnel had changed, I was still familiar enough with their tendencies to feel comfortable playing against them. I had missed the first game of the series, a game we pulled out after trailing by three at halftime and by five going into the fourth quarter. The Warriors up-tempo style and the performance of their guards Stephen Jackson and Baron Davis, who combined for 40 points, made me think that I might be needed. Our guards, Dee Brown and Deron Williams, had done a great job in my absence, but playoff pressure was a whole different thing. We needed everyone on the roster to contribute, and I had no idea if I was on the roster or if I could contribute.

The flight home was quiet, each of us lost in private thoughts. Candace and I had made the decision to not reveal any of the details of what was going on in our personal life. While I was upfront with the team, I’d been so busy attending to Tatum’s needs and keeping close family members posted on what was going on that I hadn’t had time to even consider what I might do that night and the furthest thing from my mind was what anyone else outside of that very small circle knew about the situation.

When we saw the great basin and the Great Salt Lake below us as we banked into our final approach, I still had no idea what I would do if the team called on me to perform that night. Everyone wants to feel needed, but that night, I was hoping that the Jazz had the game in hand and my presence wasn’t needed. Once in the terminal, we were all met by my friend and assistant business manager Duran McGregory. He said to me again how he was thrilled to hear that the procedure had gone well. He proceeded to tell me that the Jazz had a message they wanted him to relay. I was on the roster and the team wanted me there if I felt up to it. I discussed things with Candace, and she was all for me heading to the arena. She understood that I had a job to do there as well at home. With my responsibilities taken care of on one front, it was time for me to do my job. Duran would take me to the game, and a car service would take Candace and Tatum home.

I was surprised to learn that an unmarked police car was going to escort Duran and me from the airport, which was about ten minutes from our residence in Salt Lake City, to the arena. I didn’t really sense that there was any kind of urgency, but when we turned on the radio to listen to the game, I got a better sense that the game was going anything like I’d hoped it would. Dee Brown had been hurt and taken to the hospital with a possible neck injury when our own six foot eleven inch Mehmet Okur fell and landed on him. Five minutes into the game and the Jazz was down to only ten players. I said a prayer that Dee was going to be okay. I also learned that Deron Williams had picked up two fouls within a one-minute span in that too eventful first quarter. We were forced to use a forward, Andrei Kirilenko, at the point for a few minutes. When I heard all that, my mind started racing. All of this information was coming at me so fast, and I’m listening to the game instead of being on the court or courtside participating in it, a police car’s mars light is strobing the scene inside and outside the car, and I had that peculiar sensation of both being in the car and outside of it looking in on the situation as it evolved.

To make matters more surreal, when we pulled into the player’s entrance and I got out of the car, teams of cameramen and soundmen and photographers were there. With flashes going off and the guys hustling alongside of me as I strode quickly into the arena and made my way to the locker room, I was doing everything I could to keep my mind focused on what I needed to do. At that point, I wasn’t certain of exactly what that was, but even getting undressed and then dressed in my uniform helped me filter out some of the distractions. I’d put on a game jersey thousands of times in my life, but that night I had to slow myself down and really think about left arm and right arm, right side out and inside out, frontward and backward. I wish that I could say a calm descended on me, but it was more like I was numb, that I relied on muscle memory in order to do even the simplest things like tie my shoes.

I was surprised by the sea of noise that washed over me when I came out of the tunnel and onto the arena’s floor. I knew that there was a timeout and no action going on, so what was all the commotion about? I heard a few people shouting my name, and I looked up and was impressed by the how many fans had worn baby blue to the game.

Anytime you come up out of the tunnel, you see the court fully spot lit and gleaming, but that day I really felt like I was walking toward the light. Making my way toward our bench, I saw a few of our guys on the bench looking at me. On their faces I could see a mixture of concern and a happy-to-see-you look. I glanced up at the clock, three minutes and eighteen seconds remained in the quarter. Carlos Boozer had just been fouled and he was making his way toward the free throw line. I felt as if someone was massaging my tense limbs, easing some of my anxiety. I was much more at home here, stepping out onto the floor of a basketball court than I was sitting in a hospital waiting room or a doctor’s office. New York City literally and figuratively felt a thousand miles away, and yet it felt as if in other ways I was still there.

I said a couple words to Ronnie Brewer, Paul Milsap, and Matt Harping, letting them know that things had gone well. I didn’t have much time to talk, I heard assistant coach TK call my name, letting me know that I was going in for Andrei Kirilenko. Boozer hit both his free throws to extend our lead to 84-80. I walked toward the scorer’s table, and I could hear and feel vibrating in my chest the outpouring of affection that came from the Utah fans. In the days to come, I would learn more about the amazingly supportive fans and how they embraced my family and me with their show of faith and support. Salt Lake City is a place where family and faith come together in a unique way all the time, but this was different and special, and I can never repay the people of that remarkable place for all they did for us. A thank you can never really sufficient, but I want them all to know how deeply grateful I am to them and what a cherished place in my heart they hold.

New York and doctor’s offices and waiting rooms and the fans were out of sight and out of mind as soon as I stepped across the sideline. I immediately went into game mode. On our first possession after the free throw, Carlos Boozer captured an offensive rebound, and the ball was kicked back to me. I fed Carlos for a bucket, and was feeling pretty good even though everything seemed to be happening in a blur of motion and emotion. I tried to focus on just merging with the flow of the game. The Warriors made a basket and then we turned the ball over. They converted to pull within a point at 86-85.

I threw a bad pass a few seconds later; fortunately, my former Golden State teammate Jason Richardson, rimmed out a three pointer at the other end, and we ended up leading at the end of the third quarter 90-89. Jason had gone out of his way to let me know that he was thinking of me and rooting for my family, but like any true competitor, he would have put the proverbial dagger through our collective hearts if he could by hitting those long-range jumpers of his. This was a case of give no quarter and ask for no quarter as it always was, especially in the playoffs. Stephen Jackson and Baron Davis expressed similar sentiments and only later could I fully appreciate how much those words meant to me.

Despite how numbed I was by the events of the day, the extensive air travel and very far out of my routine journey to the arena, I felt the electricity in the air. Not all the buzz in the building was a result of my being there under those circumstances. This was a definite playoff atmosphere, and it was like it soaked in through our pores and fed our adrenal glands. The game was definitely on.

Those three plus minutes went by in a flash, but when I sat on the bench during the quarter break, I once again marveled at Jerry Sloan’s game management skills. Getting me in there immediately wasn’t just an act of desperation. He knew that if I had time to sit on the bench, I had time to think. While it’s important to be aware and alert on the court, it’s often more important to react to what you observe while in the flow of the game than it is to ponder things. If I had sat on the bench, my mind might have wandered a bit—I’m only human. By being forced into the action immediately, it was as if my body was jumpstarted, and my brain instantly switched to basketball mode immediately as a kind of reflex action. No pre-meditation, just action.

I was back on the bench at the start of the fourth quarter, and at that point, I was better able to focus on the ebb and flow of the game instead of wondering about whether or not I could play and actually contribute. With that question answered, my mind focused more on how to slow down Golden State’s offense. With our guards in foul trouble, the Warrior’s Baron Davis and Jason Richardson were taking it to us with a mix of threes and dribble penetration. With just under eight minutes left in the fourth quarter, we were ahead 99-96. Right before the TV time out, Baron Davis had converted a lay up for this thirty third point of the night. When one player has a little more than a third of his team’s total output, you know he’s having a night. We had to figure out a way to put the clamps on the guy.

Following that time out, we went on a bit of a run. At the 4:52 mark, our forward Mehmet Okfur hit a three to put us up 106-100. Things were looking good, but with the way Golden State was hoisting up and hitting three, it was still really just a two-possession game. Just as I suspected, Stephen Jackson hit a trey. Next, Jason Richardson fired up a three, was fouled and hit two of three free throws. He followed that up by hitting a three, to put Golden State up by a point 108-107 with just a little more than two minutes to play.

I went to our assistant coach, Tyrone Corbin, and said, “I can play defense.” He nodded. The competitor in me came to the surface at that moment. I wanted in there, feeling like I could do what we needed to turn the tide. Tatum and my family were in my heart, but the game was on my mind. With 1:13 remaining in the game, Coach Sloan had me re-enter. We were down 110-107. A few moments later, the Warriors scored again, and we trailed by five with less than a minute to go. On our next possession, Deron made a great pass to Carlos Boozer for a jam. We put the Warriors on the line, and we were fortunate they missed a couple of free throws. With two seconds left, Deron made a runner to tie the game at 113. Overtime.

The rest, as they say, is history. We jumped out quickly to a lead, but the Warriors scrambled back into it. In the fourth quarter, I forced Baron Davis into a critical turnover just when we needed a stop. With just over a minute to play, we were up by three when Deron Williams found me open in the corner. I got the ball in rhythm, got in good bent knee position, and rose up with my eyes locked on the rim. The shot felt good leaving my hand, but I’d had that feeling before and been disappointed, but this time my faith in myself proved good—as did the shot. We were up by six, and I followed up that shot with a pair of free throws in the waning seconds, and we pulled out the ‘W.’

I did something a bit uncharacteristic for me following that three pointer. As I headed back up court during a time after that shot, I pointed to the sky. My faith in God is something personal to me, but at that moment I had to acknowledge that I didn’t make that shot on my own. A higher power, God, had helped me make that shot. Jesus Christ was there for me in that moment in ways that allowed me to find within myself the strength to do my job and do it well. I did another atypical thing for me. After the game, TNT’s Pam Oliver wanted me to do the post game interview. Normally, they go to the star of the game, the guy who had the most points or hit the game winner. Instead, they came to me because of the situation with Tatum. Candace and I had agreed to keep things within the family, but when Ms. Oliver asked me about the situation, my gut told me that I needed to open up.

With tears in my eyes and an enormous sense of relief spilling out of my mouth I told her, “It was very, very serious. My daughter’s life was in jeopardy. She has a form of eye cancer called retinoblastoma. And the only reason I’m saying this now is because there are kids out there that are suffering from this disease, and people can’t really identify it. It’s a very rare disease. And I want people out there to take their kids to the ophthalmologist, make sure they get their eyes checked and make sure everything’s okay, because we could have lost my little girl had we waited any longer.”

I knew at that moment that I had a message to deliver. I had to do the right thing, and if feeling a little uncomfortable sharing a personal slice of a sometimes too public life meant having to bare a bit of our collective soul, then I was glad to do it.

This book is in a lot of ways, a product of those experiences. I don’t know that if it wasn’t for what we went through and the enormous level of support locally and nationally my family received if I would have wanted to write a book. I’ve never felt particularly special just because I was a basketball player, am more reserved than most people, and truly felt like what I did in those days dealing with Tatum’s health situation and in the days and weeks following when I asked to be released from my contract so that I could work someplace where Tatum could receive the kind of follow-up care she needed, I was simply doing what any father, any parent, would do for a child or other family member. I was somewhat taken aback by all the attention the things I did or the choices we made as a family received. I was, and continue to be, enormously grateful for the outpouring of affection and am humbled by the media attention and people’s view of me. On many levels then, this book is an act of pay back. Not only do I want people to know about retinoblastoma (Candace and I have started a foundation to promote education about the disease and possible treatments) but I want them to know that what took place in those few weeks was the product of an upbringing, an environment, a long list of influential people, and an agency with capabilities far beyond what we humans can muster.

As I stated before, I realize that everything that came before the moment when Tatum was diagnosed, was preparing me to deal with Tatum’s health crisis. And as uncomfortable as it can sometimes be to have a light shone on me, I feel its my duty and my privilege to share with you more of those moments that lead to our victory on and off the court. I don’t feel that my life has been in any way extraordinary, but I do believe that I have something to contribute, and giving back in this way is one form of giving thanks for the many blessing my family and I have received. In the pages that follow, I’m going to share with you some of the many lessons I’ve learned that have enabled me to succeed and stay sane in this sometimes crazy game of basketball. I didn’t get here alone, and I’ glad to have you along with me on the journey.

I also know that in the most rational sense, my having spent thirteen years in the league is in a very real way less a product of anything that I’ve done than it is a product of some large plan laid out for me. In the chapters that follow, I’m going to share with you some of the fundamental lessons I learned on the court and off the court that have enabled me to succeed beyond what most people who saw me play the game ever could have expected. I’ve always had a quiet confidence in myself and my abilities as a basketball player. I’m also realistic enough, analytical enough to know that confidence alone wasn’t what got me here in the NBA and kept me here. I also know that I’ve been blessed beyond all measure—the success of Tatum’s procedure is just one small example of that. I’ve been provided with opportunities and the ability to recognize them when they present themselves and the skills and faith to seize those opportunities.

I don’t know that I go out of my way to be a nice guy, it’s just a part of who I am because of how I was raised and because of all the reinforcement I’ve gotten for sticking with some of the fundamental truths about how to live my life—whether that’s been the Golden Rule of doing unto others as I would want them to do unto me—or understanding the fundamental truths of how the triangle office should be run. It took me some time, but I’ve come to understand that the two selves, the basketball player and the man, husband, father, friend, brother that I sometimes felt like I had to keep separate actually work together as a team. Any separation between who I am, what I do, and how I conduct myself are all bound together in ways that I’ve only lately begun to understand. Just as there’s no sound reason why a guy who is six feet one and not the fleetest of foot can play in this league and contribute to the degree that I have, there’s no logical reason why, now at the age of thirty-four, I should be enjoying one of my best seasons ever as a professional. I should be on the down side of my career, but as I see it, things have never looked brighter, my future never more certain, my love for my family such a source of contentment and pleasure. In no way am I ready to hang them up, but this seems like a good point at which to stop and take stock of where I’ve been and how I got to this point. I love playing this game, I love my family and the life I’m privileged to lead. In my mind, my NBA career is only going to lead me to half-time in my life. What’s to follow will likely be as fulfilling and rewarding, mainly because of what I’ve learned about myself and the world during this thrilling ride.

Embrace the Struggle Review

November 1st, 2009

Zig Ziglar has always been “the man” when it comes to motivational speaking and writing.  Even more so now with this book.  He has personally come through the fire and is better than ever.  This book is subtitled Living Life on Life’s Terms.  If you’re like me, you’ve spent a lot of time trying to live life on your own terms. 

This book shows us how much better it can be if don’t struggle against life.  I really like a quote in the book which came from Gene Archer.  “When you embrace the struggle, you embrace the Master.”  As you read this book, you will understand the wisdom of embracing the struggle, no matter what the struggle may be.

We all have these struggles.  Mr. Ziglar covers all the arenas of our struggles – physical, financial, addictions, marriage, spiritual, illness and grief.  He tells us about his personal struggle with a head injury, as well as sharing stories of other’s struggles. 

This book will inspire you and encourage you to embrace your own struggles.  By living life on life’s terms we’re accepting life as it is and putting our future in God’s hands where it belongs.

Praise the Lord!

November 1st, 2009

 Praise the Lord, all you nations!  Extol him, all you peoples!

For great is his steadfast love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.

Praise the Lord!

Psalm 117