My brother Brian forwarded me the below story. I can’t vouch for its literal truth. But the message of this woman’s life and attitude rings true. Enjoy it and live it.

Rose’s Story

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.

She said, ‘Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?’

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, ‘Of course you may!’ and she gave me a giant squeeze.

‘Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?’ I asked.

She jokingly replied, ‘I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids…’

‘No seriously,’ I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

‘I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!’ she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.

We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this ‘time machine’ as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the o ther students She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us.. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor.

Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, ‘I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.’

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, ‘! We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.

There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who
are dead and don’t even know it!

There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.

If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.

Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.

The elderly usually don’t have regrets f or what w e did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets’

She concluded her speech by courageously singing ‘The Rose.’

She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year’s end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.

One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.

When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they’ll really enjoy it!

Dear President Obama,

You have become an icon of “hope”. Some even call you the “black Jesus”. But I don’t need you to be a messiah. I just “hope” that you are not yet another false profit.

This nation and this world desperately needs a leader we can all have faith in. A leader who can and will guide us all through our turbulent times and into the land of milk and honey, sustainable living and humanitarian harmony. A leader who can unite this fragmented and fraying world of racial, political and economic differences.

Clearly our collective greed and stupidity has created a world that is over heating even as it nose dives toward the ground, while the captains of banking bail out with their golden parachutes. I know you are painfully aware of the perfect storm of global warming, peak oil and financial implosion that we are heading into. So I will spare you my rant on how greed is crushing this nation and our planet.

We all know you have one Hell of job. I pray in my libertarian/agnostic heart that you are the real deal, despite your having collected a record $8,000,000.00 from Wall Street and other assorted financial whores. I hope you have the balls to take their money and then tell them to kiss your brown ass.

But so far it looks like you and your treasury secretary, Timothy Geithner, are shoveling more money into the banking money pit (over one trillion and counting) than GW Bush ever imagined. What a shame that such a massive multi trillion dollar transfusion is not being directed into alternative energy, infrastructure, education, humanitarian aid . . . and other planet saving investments.

But is propping up bankrupt banks really more important than investing in the future of our planet? Isn’t the banking bailout the ultimate “throwing pearls to swine”?

Must we literally mortgage our future for the benefit of the banks in order to continue the madness of buying shit we don’t need on credit? Are we just a society of credit junkies who can’t live without ever increasing infusions from the banks? And can this planet really endure even greater rampant consumerism?

I say insure the people’s deposits and fuck the banks whose greed and stupidity have made them bankrupt. I don’t believe in the motto – “privatize profits and socialize losses”. What about you? Are you indebted to the banks for the $8,000,000.00 they “donated” or are you free to truly serve the common man?

I think the most brilliant political satirist of our time, Bill Maher, had it right when he said that with a gun you can rob a bank. But with a bank you can rob everyone.

Personally I don’t owe one penny to a bank. Debt is slavery and this nation has become a nation of slaves. Maybe it’s time for an “emancipation proclamation” declaring the end of our enslavement to the banks.

After all, it’s the “easy” credit that enabled the price of homes to reach the stratosphere. Ironically the pseudo governmental agencies – Fannie Mae and Freddy Mac – were established to make housing more affordable by making credit accessible. But ironically it was their massive infusions of loose credit that helped inflate the cost of housing nationwide. Now these agencies are insolvent and we as taxpayers are paying the added price of bailing them out.

Two years ago I sold all my stocks and bought gold. Our current train wreck was obvious years ago to many cynical observers who knew better than listen to the advise of self serving financial advisers, realtors and mortgage bankers. But now is the time to dump our gold and invest in the solutions that will save this planet – not the Corpocracy who engineered the train wreck.

God speed to you Mr. Obama. I truly hope you succeed in giving us All a vision as electrifying as going to the moon or defeating the Nazis. Give us the common vision and this Country and this remarkable world can pull together and pull it off. Be the leader this nation and this world needs.

For now I will take a leap of faith and suspend my disbelief and cynicism in the hope that you are not a false messiah. For the sake of this nation and this planet be the real deal – a man of integrity and vision.

Pat the Digital Vagabond

P.S. For those who want a free multimedia “Crash Course” on how are banks fabricate money and indenture our society, click here.

When I left Florida in the spring of 2007 on the Great American Road Trip, I harbored the hope that I would find a special place I could not leave. Yes, to fall in love and settle down. To  find a place I could call home. When you can live anywhere, the options can be over whelming. Almost every place I’ve visited has its charms. But to choose one place to live is to exclude a world of other places.

But after almost two years of roaming across the amazing continent of North America, from the tip of Key West, Florida to the San Juan Islands North of Seattle, I’ve finally found a place I can call home.

It has a small town friendly feel yet a global outlook. Its backyard is nestled in and around tree covered mountains along the Pacific Ocean. Just out its front door are the many towns and small cities of Marin County that dot the neighboring hills and bays. A thirty minute drive south and you’re across the Golden Gate Bridge and into the heart of San Francisco.

Fairfax, California (population 7,400 eclectic and open minded people) has solitude and stimulation, a yoga and meditation center as well as a honkytonk bar with a Johnny Cash impersonator and plenty of great food including a great organic store. The fine town of Fairfax, like Marin County in general, has a cultural bias towards raising consciousness rather than dumbing down. I’ve found the people very open to new ideas and people. It also has a great vast playground for Destiny to roam – from the Pacific coastal drive to the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

I’ve explored the outer world in search of knowledge, adventure and inspiration. I found plenty of it. But now it’s time for the inner journey. To look within and explore the inner universe in this sweet and fertile place.

Yes, I know there is no paradise on earth since Eve and Adam ate the apple. But Fairfax is the sweetest most livable spot for me that I’ve found in our flawed and mortal world. I’ve already made some wonderful friends who I look forward to getting to know better. I plan to make it my home.

Come visit and let me show you this sweet slice of paradise lost. We can dance our bliss at the dance center, swim in the ocean at night after steaming in a sweat lodge on the beach, build a bond fire in the woods during the full moon, relax in the hot springs in the mountains, or cross the Golden Gate or take a ferry boat from Sausalito and play in that adult amusement park known as San Francisco.

In preparation for my new home I’ve been immersed in the local ways. To learn more visit “New Age Make Over”.

Last night I got my long awaited hug from Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma), who is known in the media as the “hugging saint”. They say that during the past few decades she has hugged over thirty million people worldwide, sometimes over 50,000 in one day while sitting continually for over 20 hours.

As I moved forward in the line toward Amma I saw that her expression was often pained. They say Amma, who was born in 1953 in India into a modest family of fisherman, is often in pain when giving hugs to this virtually endless procession of devotees.

I was also surprised to see a toddler screaming and kicking as he was placed in Amma’s arms. From the photos I had seen and the super human stories I had heard, I imagined Amma to be a continually smiling being who transformed all distress and fear into harmonious serenity with a mere glance or hug. Yet the toddler continued to scream in Amma’s lap until his mother carried him away. Perhaps I expect too much from living saints or a woman many call the “Divine Mother”?

Yet others who received her embrace appeared to be deeply grateful. One man ahead of me broke into deep and soulful tears after he was hugged. A devotee told me that Amma provides a clear reflection to those whom she embraces. The experience of her embrace is referred to as “Darshan”, which in Sanskrit means seeing or beholding visions of the divine.

Given the thousands of people who came to experience Darshan at her Ashram (an intentional spiritual community) in San Ramon, California, there is a apparently strong hunger in the world for inspiration, love and a glimpse of the divine.

Amma considers giving Darshan to all who wish for it to be her primary calling despite the unrelenting line of pilgrims and the associated pain. Yet her large volunteer organization known as the “Amma Family” also manages dozens of charities, schools, hospitals orphanages; hospices, women’s shelters and other services, while building over 25,000 homes for the homeless each year.

Though she and her primary Ashram are based in India, she travels the world almost perpetually and has become a worldwide phenomenon. Her simple and non dogmatic message of love and selfless service transcends religious creeds and resonates universally.

Movie Trailer for “DARSHAN” – a film about Amma

As a “recovering Catholic” I’m repulsed by authoritarian and legalistic dogma and I’m highly skeptical of institutional religion or intermediaries. But I agree with Amma’s basic philosophy that ultimately love for humanity and nature and selfless devotion to both is our best antidote to war, scarcity, environmental destruction, famine and self destruction.

Who can object to her philosophy of love conquering evil and selfless service over coming selfishness? Thousands have volunteered their time and talents during her visits around the world, while many others have devoted their lives to serving her many charitable enterprises.

Her work and universal message of compassion has earned her worldwide recognition.  She has spoken before the United Nations, the Parliament of World Religions and won international awards.

Yet she is criticized by some ex devotees who call her followers “Ammabots” and publish their experiences and opinions online in blogs and on forums online such as the “Ex-Amma Forum (a place where people who’ve left the Amma cult come together to help each other heal from their ordeal)”. One former member of the Amma family, Bronte Baxter, publishes the blog – cultofthehuggingsaint.com and writes:

“Amma’s brand of religion is a return to the infantile. She makes babies of grown men and women, giving them dolls to babble to and telling them she’s their mother. While speaking fine words about “the God within each of us,” her actions teach something different. Allowing people to pray to you, kneel to you, and worship you as God Incarnate is not the behavior of someone who wants people to recognize themselves as magnificent, powerful expressions of God.”

Amma is many things to many people. To her devotees she is the Divine Mother”. To others she is a demagogue. To learn more about Amma, visit the Amma Family website.

Amma Dolls

So what is one to believe? In my experience, most people will believe what they want to believe or perhaps need to believe. Personally, I believe in the transformative and transcendental power of love. I believe that we all have the divine spark within us and that we do not need to worship anyone or anything outside of ourselves.

The Universe is divine and we are all a part of the Universe. What do you believe? Feel free to post it by replying below.

If I were to choose the one city that epitomizes the USA, it would be the city of “big shoulders” – Chicago. Its bold powerful skyline and wide streets are an expression of block solid American enterprise. Its ethnically diverse population hosts restaurants, culture and music from every cross section of immigrant America. Its weather has all four seasons and can be tough, which the resilient residents overcome just as Americans overcome all challenges we face.

It was a relief to leave crowded NYC and it’s financial meltdown for the wide streets and solid ground of Chicago. Technically I was here on business meeting clients. But it was Marta, the lovely Polish nurse I met during the meeting in Montreal, and her invitation to see her in Chicago that inspired me to book my flight. She was marvelous company, despite her possessive Russian physician boss who jealously stalked us by cell phone.

I also got to reconnect with two great and creative people who I knew from Minneapolis – Dan and Lisel. They were dating and moved to Chicago together years ago.

Dan took me to Wrigley Field where we and a couple of his old college buddies watched the Chicago Cubs win their division title. I’m not a sports fan. But I love a classic open air baseball stadium full of excited people, hot dogs and beer. When the game ended and the champagne was poured over the players, the party spilled out of the stadium into the surrounding streets and bars. We partied and drank with rowdy fans in the city of big shoulders.

Now, does it get any more all American than outdoor baseball in Chicago, hot dogs, beer and rowdy woman?

Chicago – my kind of town!

I came into NYC the same night that the Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Paulson, and other financial wizards arrived in a futile attempt to avert Lehman Brothers’ imminent bankruptcy. Like so many other unregulated greedy bastards on and off Wall Street, the financial wizards at Lehman Brothers had been borrowing money from the entire world to fund their greedy speculations for years. As long as the debt funded easy money ponzi scheme was expanding and real estate continued to over inflate into the stratosphere they made obscene profits and awarded themselves outrageous bonuses. Sales of Ferraris, summer homes in the Hamptons and all luxury items boomed in the New York area.

But then like an airplane that climbed too steep it stalled recently and is now in a steep nosedive heading for the ground. But of course, they are all now balling out and floating safely to earth after deploying their golden parachutes. The CEO of Lehman, Dick Fuld, personally earned (I mean plundered) a cool 490 million dollars in recent years before running Lehman Brother’s and its stockholders and creditors into the ground. No doubt his money is securely buried in a vault lined with gold bars, unlike the worthless paper he got rich selling to fools.

Now the ultimate sucker, the US government (claiming to represent us and our interests), has come forward to swallow all the toxic paper shit that these greedy bastards intend to puke on us. This weeks estimated cost – 700 billion dollars. I think their motto is  “Privatize profits, Socialize Losses”. Even the mainstream press is catching on. The cover story on the September 29, 2008 issue Time Magazine reads – “How Wall Street Sold Out America – They had a Party. Now you’re going to pay.”

How ironic that I was in NYC to visit my brilliant 18 year old nephew who was just starting his economics coarse work at New York University. His dorm room is right on the edge of ground zero (no, not the old ground zero known as the Twin Towers but the new one known as Wall Street). Michael need only look out his dorm room window to see the greatest economic and financial disaster since the Great Depression. Or he can take a short field trip down to Wall Street and watch as the wizards of Wall Street and their minions carry boxes from their former offices.

Hang on to your seats folks. This is going to be one Hell of a power dive with us left to pull on the joy stick since the wizards who were flying it are all bailing out and deploying their golden parachutes.

Next Stop – the All American City of Chicago

People fascinate me far more than nature, objects or the expanding Universe. Some of them suck. But some of them suck in interesting ways. Others are gems in the rough who I treasure.

Below are a few oddballs I feel privileged to have known while in my native Minnesota.

Note – this is by no means a complete list.

Tom Mischke was the kid from the other block who did strange things like put Barbie doll heads on GI Joe’s body. I actually worried about him as a young kid. But when he grew up he turned his zany antics into a local offbeat talk radio show on KSTP AM 1500. We collaborated on creating plenty of goofy improv videos, including a “Chicken’s Story”. For this video Tom dressed up in a chicken mascot costume and strutted around Northern Minnesota harassing farmers, a security guard at the Golden Plump chicken processing plant and people eating chicken at a KFC. I really should get those videos online.

To learn more about Tom and his antics visit:

* Mischke’s Wikipedia Page
* Article featuring Mischke in The Atlantic Monthly
* Rake Magazine article on Mischke
* The Madness of Mischke – an online collection of audio clips

Some of my other schoolboy chums remain characters. But they go unrecognized and unpaid for their antics. Some of them still live in the same old 55105 zip code. Their kids now go to grade school together and no doubt continue to unravel the nuns.

Rich Kronfeld was one of my favorite local oddball talents. He created an excruciatingly anal character known as “Dr. Sphincter”, who hosted a very uptight TV talk show called “Tightline”. It was brilliantly tense with the guests fidgeting uncomfortably under the harsh lights. The interviews were like cross examinations conducted by the Gestapo. Fortunately, Rich and his groupies had the good sense to put these classics, including Dr. Sphincter’s tour of Minnesota rest stops, online at http://www.drsphincter.com

I think Rich drew a good deal of inspiration for his uptight Dr. Sphincter from the often emotionally stoic and repressed Scandinavians and Germans who weathered the cold to settle and tame Minnesota with far too many sensible laws. I loved his Dr. Sphincter character. He did a cameo as an uptight scheduling dean in a movie I wrote and co-directed called “Free Fall”.

To learn more about Dr. Sphincter and his uptight art visit:

Videos on Google
Videos on YouTube
www.drsphincter.com

Crazy Cabbie – Everyone who parties late and hard should have a “personal cabbie”. Ideally this cabbie will be crazy and full of ridiculous stories and antics. A personal cabbie picks you up when you’re drunk, high or incapacitated and takes you home or to the next party across town.

My personal cabbie, “Crazy Cabbie”, was more performance artist on wheels than driver. He was loud, hilarious and abusive. I loved him and so did my buddy Tim. We enjoyed returning the abuse and fueling Cabbie’s insanity as we squealed through town.

All too often our cab rides with him were the best part of the night. God bless the “Crazy Cabbie” and have mercy on his passengers.

Captain Mike – I met the Captain years ago when he was a restless student at the uptight University of St. Thomas in St. Paul. I had endured four plus years of intellectually dishonest Catholic education at this institution and co produced a movie called “Free Fall” that lampooned it. During a student screening at St. Thomas, I offered a “Roads’ Scholarship” to the student who wrote the most compelling essay on why they wanted to leave St. Thomas and hit the road. As the runner up, Mike didn’t win the VW camper bus. But he did win a copy of Ed Buryn’s 1974 classic book “Vagabonding in America”. Mike hit the road for a few months with Ed’s book in his glove compartment.

Mike and I became good friends over time. Mike bought an old 1968 (Summer of Love) houseboat and took his vagabonding spirit on to the Mississippi River. I joined him on dozens of weekend cruises over the years. My ability to stock the bar and kitchen and recruit characters for these cruises earned me the title of “Cruise Director”. We had many “Good Times” on the mighty Mississippi.

Thom Caya – is one of the most outrageous oddballs I’ve ever known. I never really could tell when he was on acid or not. He was the same outrageous, obnoxious and hilarious person with or without the drugs and booze. I’ve never been thrown out of more bars and never invited back to more parties than when I was with Thom. But it was dam well worth it.

Thom was brutally honest in the face of repressed polite Scandinavians. They considered his behavior cruel and insensitive. I considered it fucking hilarious. I find it frightening that as I get older he makes more and more sense.

I could and should some day share the dozens of insanely funny stories we lived and survived together. But for now, enjoy some photos of this odd bird. Thom is “still a photographer”. To view his portfolio visit Thom Caya Still Photography.

Colleen Kruse – Funny Lady Extraordinaire – Colleen was the funniest woman I ever dated. So funny that she turned pro and did stand up comedy, including a few HBO and Comedy Central appearances. I once brought her to a company holiday party as my date. While I was out of sight she told my co-workers that she was actually a paid escort. Now that’s pretty dam funny.

I met her at a 1930’s vintage diner car, Mickey’s Diner, in downtown St. Paul. She was worked there as a waitress but she was really doing comedy. The crowd of late night drunks and misfits was her audience. Mickey’s Diner provided Colleen with a great stage and lots of inspired material for her later standup routines.

Colleen still does comedy, on and off stage, and hosts a local radio show called “Living Life Out Loud“.

Having become a temporary motor home resident of Aspen, I now understand why former resident Hunter S. Thompson occasionally felt the need to fire his weapons at the neighbors. The ultra rich and their trust fund babies, who travel in and out of remote Aspen largely by private jets, can provoke righteous gunfire. I chose to simply get along and have a great time.

Aspen does a pretty good job of discouraging motor home types like me from feeling at home. Its remote location beyond narrow mountain passes, its two hour street parking limits and its elimination of camping facilities has made the motor home camper all but extinct.

During the few days that I hung out in Aspen the only motor home/vans I saw were mine, Dave’s (of LivesinaVan.com fame) and an old camper van owned by an itinerant photographer named Brett. We were so rare that we actually took a photo of our three camper vans side by side, like a group photo for the members of the not yet formed “Aspen Mobile Residents Union”.

During the 4th of July weekend the Aspen airport was jammed packed with private jets and clubs were crawling with trust fund kids getting their kicks. This was the true “Jet Set”.

Dave (who LivesinaVan.com) and I felt a bit like wedding crashers who some how managed to infiltrate this exclusive world by sneaking over a mountain pass and into their town in our vans.

Wendy, a bright and beautiful woman we met while camping, joined us in Aspen for the 4th of July. We watched the fireworks over the mountain hills in Aspen, while singing the Star Spangled Banner. Can it really get any more all American than that?

After the 4th we all went our separate ways. Dave continued his journey West to Utah, while Wendy returned to her home in Denver. I ventured North through the mountains and then East through the Great Plains on my way to Minneapolis/St. Paul. I expect to rendezvous with Dave at the Burning Man Festival in the Black Rock Desert in Northwest Nevada at the end of August.

Next Stop – the Great Plains of the USA

Colorado is divided in half by the epic Rocky Mountains. All the major cities of Denver, Colorado Springs and Boulder are along on the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains. Denver, “the mile high city” has the Rockies to its west and the endless flat Great Plains to the east.

With its dramatic mountaintops and snow fed rushing streams, Colorado is as beautiful as one would imagine or hope. It attracts lovers of beauty and recreation from around the world. In Aspen many of them, if not most, fly in and out on private jets.

While Aspen was beautiful and upscale and Boulder near Denver was hip and young, I preferred the relaxed town of Salida in Southern Colorado, which was down to earth, surrounded by natural beauty and quickly being revitalized by artists.

Rules for living from the “Mayor of Gringo Gulch”:

1. Don’t worry.

2. Be fat, happy, and let it all hang out.

3. Listen to people’s problems and they will pay your tab.

4. When you are sick, sterilize the body with heavy drinking.

5. Expect very little and be happy when even you don’t get it.

6. Pick the not so pretty whore for the really good blow job.

7. Reject hard work. It’s rarely worth the effort.

8. Never pay more than $20, including dinner and drinks, to get laid.

9. Be kind to those in the gutter. You may some day need their help.

10. If you’re not getting laid after the fourth time out you’re just feeding someone.

To learn more about the “Mayor”, click here.