Unlimited Power

The other day I was out walking with my partner. Trying to lose weight, each day I attempt to increase the distance and length of time I walk. Mustering the strength to go farther on one occasion, I started singing to myself the words from the Eagles song, “take it to the limit one more time”. As I repeated those words, I was infused with the strength to increase my distance.

It was then I understood how those powerful words could be used for motivation in the pursuit of my daily goals. When I find myself getting discouraged, anxious about my expectations, I encourage myself by repeating “take it to limit one more time”.

Often we fail to recognize how close we are to the successful culmination of a particular objective. Sadly, we tend to give up or tire out when the finish line was just one more step, one more grunt away.

Time and again we hear stories of accomplished goals which occurred when everything seemed the bleakest. Entrepreneurs often tell how their success came when they had to fight the urge to throw in the towel. These individuals found motivation, something urged them on in spite of the difficulties, even though it appeared that the desired target was too far out of reach. Something impelled them to “take it to the limit one more time’.

I have learned from my experiences that nothing worthwhile comes without effort and trials. I have also come to appreciate that anything is possible if you focus your efforts on a target, don’t lose site no matter how obscured the target becomes. Muster all your energy and don’t give up. Cry in agony if you have to, but get up and try and try again.

I use to think that successful tycoons have special gifts. While it is true some are extraordinary in talents, for the most part the only thing that really sets them apart is their single-minded goal and determination not to quit.

There are many very talented people who never accomplish what they set out to initially do. It is not the talent that makes one successful in their ventures. It is the ability to persist when everything looks impossible. In the words of Thomas Edison, “genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.”

So when I want to achieve something I try to remind myself to ‘take it to the limit one more time’ and make sure I don’t give up just before the miracle occurs and it will indeed occur if I ‘take it to the limit one more time’.

Giving Should Come from the Heart

by Doran Roggio

Each of you must give what you have decided in your heart, not with regret or under compulsion, since God loves a cheerful giver.
2Corinthians 9:7
ISV (©2008)

I have strong opinions about subjecting one to charitable giving under compulsion. What do I mean by compulsive giving. I am speaking about the practice of public collections for charity in the workplace, stores, and even places of entertainment. The practice of approaching a person in a public place and asking for funds. A practice that uses embarrassment and coercion in order to get one to contribute to a cause.

Recently my daughter came for a visit to Prescott Valley, Arizona where we opted to dine at Chili’s Restaurant. The dinner was good, the service adequate and friendly. It should have been an enjoyable experience. My distress came when the waitress brought our check and proceeded to ask for a donation for a charity. I said no thank you. I do every time someone attempts to put me on the spot.

I am not suggesting that we do not give to others in need, though admittedly I am reluctant to give to the major charities since the allocation of funds is often questionable. I prefer to give to those in need as I encounter such ones in my daily life. It is a personal choice to contribute to such organizations and many folks enjoy giving to the well-known, established charitable associations. I have no argument with that.

My dispute is against the tactic of seizing opportunity to put individuals ‘on the spot’. Giving should come from the heart, it is only by giving from the heart that a person can experience the joy that comes from heartfelt giving. When it becomes compulsory, whether from the need to avoid embarrassment or feelings of guilt, the joy is diminished and the gift of giving becomes a begrudging task.

I would have had no objection to a box by the cashiers booth or something set up by the door for collections. This would have given me the opportunity to give as I am moved from my heart and not as a compulsory act that robs me of the choice to give and the joy that comes with that decision and the act of giving.

Are Semi-truck Drivers Making The Highways Unsafe

by Doran Roggio

When I became of age to drive quite some time ago, drivers, as a whole, were more courteous. This was especially so with the semi truck drivers. Thankfully so, for as a young girl I was quite a speedy driver.

I loved being on the highway and traveled throughout the country by car for many years. In my younger days the semi drivers were the most courteous drivers on the road. If you passed them on the highway the drivers would signal you with their lights when it was safe for you to move back into the lane. Semi drivers used to be so courteous they would even blink a signal when coming from the opposite direction to warn when a patrol car was up ahead. I always opted to drive the highways late at night when there was barely any traffic but the large trucks because I felt safe.

I traveled a great deal at night and the Semi’s nearly owned the roads until the early morning hours. I never felt intimidated traveling alongside those massive vehicles with the courteous drivers. If you broke down you could rest assured that some semi driver would pull over and help.

Today the highways are not as enjoyable to drive, though I still like the open road and take road trips across country. Unfortunately, the semi-truck drivers are no longer as friendly as they once were. Forced by a weak economy to exert beyond normal capacity in order to make deadlines, too many of the truck drivers have become aggressive, using their size to intimidate the automobile drivers on the road. Many drivers are on uppers to stay awake and have become dangerous to be near as their focus and reflexes wane.

A few years back I applied for a part time job with a truck driving firm that hired and trained personnel to become drivers. I was appalled to learn that the majority of the persons they hired were ex-cons. While I am not against aiding ex-prisoners to get work the fact that the majority of these drivers are from prison could be a valid reason that semi drivers have become so much more aggressive and far less courteous.

Too often I have felt the intimidation of the impatient semi driver bearing down so close to my car that anything unforeseen would carry the large rig through my car and end my life.

There are other reasons that eighteen wheelers have become so dangerous on the road besides just the inconsiderate drivers. Oversized loads and faulty brakes for example have made the large rigs dangerous. Many states are setting new laws and cracking down with increased inspections and weight stations. Supposedly, enforcement officers are on the lookout more for speeding and/or reckless truck drivers.

I only hope the crackdown will help to bring about safer conditions for the automobile driver when having to travel the highways with these monster vehicles. As for the drivers and the fading courtesy, I wonder if it will return to the friendly highways that I enjoyed in my youth. Once welcoming the opportunity to drive the highways with the courteous semi-truck driver, I now take to the road when the eighteen wheelers will be less abundant.

The World is Beautiful and Life is So Short

“She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.”

Since August there have been three deaths in my family. All were elderly persons so it was expected that they would leave this earth soon. No matter the age or circumstances, death is still an enemy that devastates us, if only for a while, reminding us of our own mortality.

Regardless of the extraordinary accomplishments man makes in medical science, one fact of life cannot be altered. Death is inescapable and it comes like a roaring high speed locomotive. As if every day of our life is another eighty, one hundred, or more miles speeding towards the finality of our stay here on earth. Before we know it, the locomotive reaches the end of the line and our life is over. All the things we desire to accomplish gone with that last breath, the last chug, chug of the hastening locomotive.

No more time to complete the fulfillment of aspirations. No more days to share with a grandchild, to tell a mate or child how much joy they brought into our life. No longer able to reach out and touch another human transmitting warmth and emotion, or wiping the tear of a wounded child. No more stories to tell, songs to sing. No more thoughts, creating, loving, weeping, joy or sorrow. In the blink of an eye we become a memory.

This month an uncle died. In the last thirty years I had only seen him twice. We lived far apart. He was a lover of life and family and will be missed. His death made me melancholy and reflective. My father, who passed away three years ago, was one of eight brothers. This month, with the passing away of my uncle, a whole generation was eradicated. It is an eerie feeling to have them all gone. While this last uncle remained I still felt a connection with my father. Now they all seem almost a distant memory. It is an empty feeling.

Fortunately new people come into our lives to fill the void that also bring us joy and pleasure. Gradually, the pain of loss is lessened. Memories begin to fade. Life goes on. We love life still, even though the circle of life takes loved ones from us.

There is no denying that life is beautiful. It gives many joys in the way of replacement for our losses. The emotional high of embracing a sunset, the laughter that bursts forth while watching the antics of baby animals at play, the touch of a newborn’s tiny hand and the giggle of a toddler.

Life is beautiful, but each day we do shed a tear, if only in our mind and hearts for the memory of those who are gone and the realization that we too, one day, will become a memory in someone’s heart.

Roasted Red Pepper Soup: V8 or Pacific Brand

by Doran Roggio

One of my very favorite foods to eat is red pepper. You could say I am addicted to red peppers. Eating roasted red peppers gives me the same euphoria as a morsel of chocolate gives to others. I put the peppers in salads, stews, soups, spread on bread or just eat roasted red peppers out of the jar, often eating a whole jar in one sitting. So why do I tell you about my love for red peppers.

It all begins with a recent trip to the grocery store. While getting my food items, I thought about my favorite peppers. I picked up a few jars of roasted red peppers for munching, moseyed over to the soup aisle looking for Pacific Roasted Red Pepper Soup, a ‘to die for’ soup that comes in a box. Much to my dismay there was none of my favorite soup on the shelf.

I looked behind jars, straining my glance to each end of the soup aisle. Not a single box of Pacific Roasted Red Pepper Soup. I was about to go home insatiate and noticed another brand of the soup standing proudly that seemed to enticingly say, ‘take me home and try me’. By now I was feeling desperate for the taste of my favorite soup. I stared at the box; I picked it up and read the brand, ‘V8 Roasted Red Pepper Soup’.

I thought to myself, ‘V8 is a well-known brand. I like V8 juice. Shall I give it a try?’ By now my mouth was watering for the Soup. I put the box of V8 Roasted Red Pepper Soup in the cart, paid for my groceries and headed home, all the while salivating and getting anxious for a hearty lunch of the deep red velvety soup.

Groceries put up, pot on stove, soup heated and I am at the table with the first spoonful and ready to dig in for that tasty sip. I have to admit I was a bit skeptical…the V8 brand had a slightly rougher texture and was the color of rusty orange rather than the deep rich red of the Pacific brand.

My first reaction was to immediately spit out the mouthful of soup. Could I have read the box wrong? I ran to the fridge and looked again this time wearing glasses. No, I had not read it wrong. It certainly said Roasted Red Pepper Soup. I was disappointed immeasurably. Not by any stretch of the imagination did this strange textured and odd tasting stuff resemble my favorite soup.

Anyone who knows me personally will testify to the fact that I can eat almost anything. I love food to my detriment. However, the flavor of this odd tasting substance that dared to be called red pepper soup was so offensive to my taste buds that I could not stomach the V8 brand soup and had to trash the whole box. Even the smell was unfamiliar and distasteful. There are no words to describe the taste, smell, color and texture, except it was like comparing bologna to fillet mignon. One fact is certain, in no way did the V8 brand resemble the rich, exquisite taste of Pacific Roasted Red Pepper Soup.

In summary, if you are going to try boxed soup, I would, without reservation, say avoid the V8 brand and go for Pacific Roasted Red Pepper Soup if you want indulgent, palatable and favorable soup.

Christmas Gifts of Kindness

It was the Christmas of 1973. I had just given birth to a baby girl a month earlier. Poverty was a way of life. I was on my own with two children, my infant daughter and a seven year old son. My daughter’s father was not around and I had little help from family.

When my infant daughter was three weeks old, I fell asleep during a night feeding. Laying on the edge of the bed I dozed off, my arm relaxed and my tiny daughter slipped onto the floor. Her persistent screams frightened me and I thought it best to take her to the emergency room to make sure there were no injuries.

Having no car or money, I called the local police department for a ride to the hospital. The officers were extremely kind and showed concern as I communicated the incident, over my infant’s persistent crying. Reaching the hospital, the officers guided me into the ER and expressed hope that all would be fine.

After examination it was determined that my baby had a fractured skull. She had to remain at the hospital for tests to ascertain whether she had any brain damage. Daily I would walk the mile and a half to the hospital to be with my daughter. The end result was that there was no brain damage and she was able to come home within a few days.

A nurse who had cared for my daughter was kind enough to provide a ride home. The officers had stopped by shortly after to check on my daughter’s progress. I thanked them for their help and concern and relayed the good news of my daughter’s well being in spite of the fracture which would heal.

It was three days before Christmas when my daughter came home from the hospital. My son and I did what we could to make the home festive. We made play dough and cut shapes of Santa, candy canes, gingerbread men and reindeer, then painting the hardened shapes and hanging them on the little artificial tree a neighbor had been kind enough to give us.

We made toys out of everything imaginable. I used my maternity clothes for material and made hand puppets for my son. For my daughter I bought an old doll at a local thrift store, cleaned it up, made an outfit from the same material.

Neighbors hearing about my daughter’s hospital stay stopped by to wish us a Merry Christmas, some bringing food items or small gifts. We had only been in the apartment building for a short while and I was touched by the generosity and genuine concern of the other occupants.

On Christmas Eve there came a knock on the door. Opening the door revealed the two officers who had driven me to the hospital. In their hands was a large fruit basket with a twenty dollar bill tucked inside. The officers explained that it was their tradition to give a gift basket every year to someone in need and they had chosen me to receive the basket this year. I have never forgotten the generosity of my neighbors and the police officers and the Christmas of 1973 was one of warmth and love and the realization that there exists in all men the desire to help one another.

Get Out of the Rut with a Road Trip

Finding myself stuck in a rut for the past year I decided to make a change. Last month I sold everything I owned, stuffed what was left in my old 1996 Monte Carlo (158,000 miles and still going strong) and road tripped from Kansas City, MO to San Diego, CA. I love road trips. I feel free on the highway, for a short time it is just me and the road and the sights. Olathe, Kansas covered wagon landmark

If you find yourself in a rut, life is the same old rerun and has been for quite some time now, take a road trip. There is so much to see in the beautiful USA, and I venture to say every country is the same. A different horizon, if even for only a few days, can clear your head, lift your spirits, fill you with a new perspective, and be downright challenging. Driving through the Rocky Mountains, for example is awe inspiring, filling you with a ‘you and me God feeling’, and producing a realization of just how minuscule we are in the scheme of things. Road tripping is the closet we have these days to setting out on horseback and hitting the trail. Let me tell you, the cowboys had it down.

If you live in the city and do not get much opportunity to experience the wide open spaces, a road trip is exhilarating. You get an appreciation for how much open space there is when you drive through the plains in Texas, the plateaus of New Mexico, or the mountains and desert of Arizona. New Mexico...scenic open road

I have opted for road trips rather than flying all my life and have road tripped a great deal of the country. Observing the differences in the terrain from state to state, along with its peculiarities (examples: dust storms, tumbleweeds,) or experiencing the powerful roar of the ocean as you watch the rolling waves beat down on the shores edge along a seaside road fills you with wonder and recaptures your youth.

Experience the historical landmarks, and dissimilar architecture of differ cultures and geographical locations. Some places are so steeped in the country’s history that you can almost sense the characters of generations before you, experiencing their triumps and defeats. Another interesting and amusing facet of road trips are the names of towns and streets and the history behind those names as well as local legends. Arizona's Smallest Motel in Congress, AZ

To fully enjoy and educate yourself a road trip does not have to be a three day trip such as I recently took. Short road trips within your state to a historical or recreational landmark can be just as exhilarating. Pack up an ice chest with drinks, fruit and sandwiches, or carry energy bars, granola and dried fruit and venture out on the free flowing road with a destination in view. Don’t forget the camera and plenty of batteries.

So, the next time you find yourself bored and living the same rerun day after day, break the routine with a road trip. At the very least you will arrive home educated, inspired, with a new perspective and lots of pictures and stories to share.

Are Walk Lights Safe For Pedestrians?

I enjoy taking long walks. I enjoy the fresh air and the energizing lift. Last spring while walking with a partner I became distressed over the short time period that walk lights stayed lit allowing pedestrians to cross the street.

I was residing in the Kansas city suburbs last spring. My partner and I would venture out for a walk long walk in the early mornings. It was wonderful except when we would have to cross a four lane street. Then it became unnerving. Barely would we get across two lanes when the light would change. I thought it must be a joke, the walk light is only there to appease the walker, but not really for the safety of the pedestrian or surely it would last long enough for the pedestrian to get safely across.

Last month I relocated to the beautiful of city San Diego. Enjoying the spectacular views, interesting foliage and balmy temperatures, I started on a daily trek to discover my new neighborhood on foot. Now, as a pedestrian, I not only have to cross a four lane street, instead I am crossing or attempting to cross a six lane thoroughfare.

Are Walk Lights Really Safe for Pedestrians

Is the walk light here timed any longer as a result of the greater distance to get safely across? I am shocked and disappointed to say an emphatic no. When the light changes to the white walk light, I immediately take off jogging to get as close to the other side as possible before the walk light changes and I no longer feel safe. In spite of the quickened pace, I can only get halfway to the other side.

The walk light in theory is designed with the pedestrian in mind. Reasonably the crossing of a thoroughfare should not be conjuring up dread. The impatient stares and threatening motions of automobile drivers serves only to add to my discomfort. It appears as though some drivers are using extreme restraint, as if any moment I could become road kill.

Traffic Lights Should Be Updated For Modern Thoroughfares

Have we become so fast paced and uncaring in our society that the pedestrian is no longer important? What of those who cannot manage an automobile due to poor or mental health or perhaps from age. Must they endure such discomfort every time they are in a position to have to get across a large avenue. Does the destination of the automobile driver hold more import than the safety of the pedestrian.

If I feel threatened by the impatience of the automobile drivers and the apprehension that I could get hit by a car, imagine how unnerving it could be for children or someone elderly or perhaps handicapped attempting to get across the thoroughfare when the pedestrian walk light barely gives the walker enough time to cover the distance.

Pedestrian traffic lights should allow walkers the right of way to get safely across but they do not give ample time. If they are not doing the adequate job, isn’t it about time someone takes note that change is needed. Isn’t it about time the pedestrian is given as much consideration as the automobile driver?

Have we become so fast paced and uncaring in our society that the pedestrian is no longer important? Does the destination of the automobile driver hold more import than the safety of the pedestrian. Isn’t it about time the pedestrian is given as much consideration as the automobile driver?

Punxsutawney Phil Predictions Proving True

My fellow woman, no doubt you will agree with me. Men like to prove themselves right at all costs if they can possibly get away with it. Why they may even resort to childish tantrums or trickery to save that ego.

Well, I challenged the ego of that famous groundhog Punxsutawney Phil a few weeks ago when the Kansas weather showed promise of Spring. I thought his prediction of 6 more weeks of winter may have been off base and freely stated so making public announcement in this blog and my social sites.

At the time of such proclamation, here in Kansas City the weather belied Spring. Robins and squirrels leapt across my yard in merriment or eagerly seeking food. The early spring shoots had begun to show their heads and the temperatures were getting warm with the balmy breezy feeling of Spring.

So I questioned the expertise of Punxsutawney Phil. Ah, but he appears to be putting me in my place I have been proven wrong.

Last weekend overnight we here in the Kansas City Metro were covered in 6 inches of snow. As frigid as it was here, in some parts of the country the cold and amount of fallen snow was far greater leaving many in the throes of Winter for a length of time longer.

Some areas are bitter cold yet. In Kansas the temperatures warmed gradually during the week reaching the high 60′s and even into the 70′s. Yet again it was just a tease and though one might think the snow was Winter’s last mighty blow, temperatures are plummeting once more.

I retired to my bed last night with temperatures at 65 and awoke to a chilly 43 with predictions that it will drop way below freezing before the week is out. Brr!!

I fear for the green shoots and flower buds that have begun to appear. The squirrels have returned to their nests and no doubt that song of the birds will be less than ecstatic.

I salute Punxsutawney Phil, much to my dismay, his predictions seem to be on target after all.

Move Over Punxsutawney Phil

On February 2 the country celebrated the 123rd Groundhog Day. As is the custom Punxsutawney Phil, the famous weather telling Groundhog, came out from his winter hibernation on Gobbler’s Knob. Viewed by thousands of enthusiasts worldwide Punxsutawney Phil offered up his yearly prediction of winter’s end and spring’s arrival. Seeing his shadow, Phil predicted that six more weeks of winter would remain with us before we would experience the warm air, sunshine, and exuberance of spring.

Here in Kansas City the weather is often full of tricks and unpredictable. Being in the center of the US our weather can change quickly and drop or rise 30 or 40 degrees in a few hours time. Front’s coming in from the North and South, East and West with varying degrees of frigid or extreme heat make for tumultuous conditions. Hence comes the Kansas tornadoes or horrific thunderstorms.

As a result it is not rare to get an unusually warm day in the middle of winter. Yet, the last few days have not only been unusually warm, in the last two weeks we have had several warm days. My intuition says that this year Punxsutawney Phil may be in error and spring is coming early.

Let me explain why I have to question Phil’s prediction. Yesterday the temperature reached 68 degrees. Not only is that unusually warm for this time of the year but there was other signs of early spring. The robins have returned to KC and I watched several of the red-breasted feathered fowl hop across my lawn, doing their ritual ‘worm hunting’ dance and digging in their search for a juicy, wiggly worm.

I took advantage of the exceptionally warm day and took my little dog, Ellie, for a walk at the neighborhood park. It soon became obvious that others with spring fever had opted to do the same. The park was filled with the early enthusiasts of springtime, walking dogs, sitting on park benches and sharing in camaraderie.

This morning, though the early morning temperature was only 35, the air had a fresh lukewarmness, indicative of springtime, instead of the icy bite that is characteristic of winter. Several varieties of birds were flittering about from tree to tree and filling the air with their melodious songs. The squirrels came out of their winter nests. I watched as pairs of squirrels scurried up and down the backyard fence or playfully raced across the lawn, jumping at each other as if they were playing a game of tag.

Overnight, under the still barren bushes the early Common Snowdrops have sprouted showing their tiny, delicate, white buds. The air even smells fresher, filling the nostrils with that indescribable smell of rebirth. Now I don’t mean to infer that in any way am I a predictor of weather, but my senses are feeling spring is in the air. So move over Punxsutawney Phil, I am predicting a sooner arrival then six weeks of the warmer season and I am more than ready to welcome the glorious springtime.