Are you a thief’s best friend?
By Dave Emanuel
You just might be - even though you don’t know the thief, and he or she doesn’t know you. You “befriended” the thief because you provided opportunity, perhaps even an invitation, to enjoy something you own.
He was a hard worker, rugged outdoorsman, hunter, angler, golfer, 11 years younger than me, a cousin. I gave him a bicycle and a 22 Marlin rifle when I enlisted in the navy in 1943 at age 17.
(Not So) Common Sense
We have to know when to quit
By Carole Townsend
One of the best decisions I ever made, for both myself and for my family, was to just bite the bullet and leave corporate America for unchartered territory. It’s hard to explain my motivation for doing so; I just knew that it was time for me to help my husband start his business and to be home for our children during their middle school years.
There are days when my patience is stretched to (and past) its limits. Let me just say at the outset that it’s my fault. It has to be. My husband is a great guy – sweet, kind, generous, thoughtful and very much a man’s man.
My parents, it turns out, were not nearly as stupid as I thought they were when I was a teenager. I suspect that a lot of us learned that lesson when we were growing up, and we learned it right about the same time that we moved out on our own, started paying our own bills and such.
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