Abraham Lincoln never quit.

Born into poverty, Abraham Lincoln was faced with defeat throughout his life. He lost eight elections, failed twice in business and suffered a nervous breakdown. He could have quit many times - but he didn’t and because he didn’t quit, he became one of the greatest presidents in the United States history.

Here is a sketch of Lincoln’s road to the White House:

* 1816 His family was forced out of their home. He had to work to support them.
* 1818 His mother died.
* 1831 Failed in business.
* 1832 Ran for state legislature - lost.
* 1832 Also lost his job - wanted to go to law school but couldn’t get in.
* 1833 Borrowed money from a friend to begin a business and by the end of the year he was bankrupt. He spent the next 17 years of his life paying off this debt.
* 1834 Ran for state legislature again - won.
* 1835 Was engaged to be married, sweetheart died and his heart was broken.
* 1836 Had a total nervous breakdown and was in bed for six months.
* 1838 Sought to become speaker of the state legislature - defeated.
* 1840 Sought to become elector - defeated.
* 1843 Ran for Congress - lost.
* 1846 Ran for Congress again - this time he won - went to Washington and did a good job.
* 1848 Ran for re-election to Congress - lost.
* 1849 Sought the job of land officer in his home state - rejected.
* 1854 Ran for Senate of the United States - lost.
* 1856 Sought Vice-Presidential nomination at his party’s national convention - got less than 100 votes.
* 1858 Ran for U.S. Senate again - he lost again
* 1860 Elected president of the United States.

Seattle Special Olympics

A few years ago at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100 yard dash. At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is, except one boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times and began to cry.

The other eight heard the boy. They slowed down and looked back. They all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down’s Syndrome bent down and kissed him and said,"This will make it better."

All nine linked arms and walked across the finish line together. Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on for several minutes. People who were there are still telling the story. Why? Because deep down we know one thing. What matters most in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What truly matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course.

If I had my life to live over

In memory of Erma Bombeck who lost her fight with cancer -

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching TV - and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more "I love yous" ...more :I’m sorrys"...

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.

The Umbrella

From Chikkada (edited for brevity and clarity)

based on a true story

I am a city boy who grew up in a slum area with my poor and big family. As a child, I never cared for I wore, what we ate, or if I was neat or not. All I wanted was to play outside all day long that I often skipped my classes just to be with my barkada, my group of friends whom we call ourselves kalye boys or street boys.

We'd usually go by the railroad to catch spiders and put them either in match boxes or in brooms and watch them fight each other. And oftentimes, right about 7pm, when my Inay (mother) gets home from the factory and catches me playing outside, she would scold me. And my Itay (father) will tell my Inay to stop scolding me since for him it was okay for boys to have fun as long as they are playing outside and not taking drugs or alcohol.

For most of my elementary days, I followed the same routine as did my elder brothers who were also often cutting classes and going home late. I didn't care about school. I didn't care about my assignments or projects. I also didn't care about my brothers or sisters, what they did or what they were up to. I just wanted to have fun with the kalye boys and stay by the railroad until the sun sets.

But one day, everything changed. It was a Saturday morning and I was watching Bioman. Beside me was my Itay who had been sick for about a week and therefore was unable to go to the market to sell goods.

My eldest sister, a college student then, asked Inay for 20 pesos (about 50 cents then) to commute to school as she had a exam that afternoon and had go to school badly. Sometimes, in order to help Inay save money, my sister will not go to school except when there's a test or presentation in their class. Actually my sister is intelligent and she's been very good in school since elementary.

Inay told her she had no money and said maybe she can call her prof and ask to have a special test for her. But my sister refused to do so. She kept telling my Inay that it is impossible because it was a major subject and she needed to take the exam.
Then she asked Inay to give her even just the fare going to school and she will ask friends for money for her fare home.

Inay paused for a while, then said, "Okay. I will go to Aling Mary and ask if I can borrow from her." Aling Mary is the owner of the small convenience store three blocks away. Inay used to be able to buy from her on credit for stuff like canned goods, coffee, sugar, or rice. Aling Mary was nice to Inay (and us), but when Inay wasn't able to pay her long list of debts, she began humiliating Inay (and sometimes us) in front of our neighbors.

Inay left and came back after 30 minutes. Her face was pale. I knew right away Aling Mary must have confronted her with our debts. I looked back at the television as if I didn't care and watched Magmaman. I heard my Itay coughing hard and asking my youngest brother to give him a glass of water. Though my eyes were watching the show, my ears were listening to the soft whispers of Inay to my sister.

I heard Inay said, "Aling Mary didn't lend me money, but don't worry I will go to your Auntie Audie's house to borrow money."

My sister was sad and asked, "How can you go there? You don't have any money? How can you ride the jeepney and pay the driver if you don't have money?"

Inay just said, "I will go now. I'll be back before 12 noon." She then grabbed her little worn umbrella and left.

Auntie Audie is my Itay's older sister. She's a little bit wealthy, with her own apartments, vulcanizing shop, not to mention her 5/6 lending businesses. Her house is actually a little bit far from us. One Jeepney ride to get there. The distance is about from La Salle Taft to Manila Science HS, meaning it is a bit far to walk, especially under the scorching sun.

Came 12 noon and Inay has not returned. My sister was already ready to leave and kept pacing back and forth by our main door. I was eating my lunch while Itay was sleeping in the folding bed. After lunch, I went out to fetch a pail of water from the pump outside house. In my rush, I almost stumbled against Inay.

Luckily I got hold of her. Her arms were so hot. Probably because it was past 12 noon and the sun was really hot. I guided her inside the house and gave her a seat.

She was holding a 50 peso bill and asked my sister to come to her. I didn't know why I was still standing there. I was supposed to wash the dishes and yet I felt something was wrong. I could see it in Inay's face.

Inay asked my younger brother for a glass of cold water. But before he could stand up, I walked to the table and got Inay her a glass of water. After drinking, she started to speak, "Children, I went to your Auntie Audie's place and was told she was at the shop. I went to the shop and asked her if I could borrow money for your sister's fare. But she said she did not have any money as she has not been able to get her customers to pay up. So I started walking back here. But when I was near I bumped into Mareng Shella, the godmother of your youngest brother. We talked briefly and she asked me to sew the attire of her child who is graduating from kindergarten. She gave me a downpayment of 50 pesos. Thank God. There are still angels around us."

After that, just to confirm, I asked her if she had walked from our place to Auntie Audie's place. She answered YES. I looked outside. The weather was scorching hot. I looked back at Inay's umbrella. It was torn and the handle was broken - it was unusable.

My sister cried. So did my younger siblings. My sister hugged Inay and said "I will finish my study and I promise you I will help you Inay."

Inay wiped off her tears and said, "Don't cry, go on. You might be late. You take care and good luck on your test." All the while my little brothers and sisters continued hugging Inay.

I kept my tears from falling. And as I looked at Itay I saw that he was awake and I saw him looking at us with tears in his eyes. When he saw me looking at him, he looked away to hide his feelings.

That's life, I told myself. From then on I realized that our parents will do everything for their children. When their child is in need, nothing is impossible. Though that day was hot, Inay was able to walk from our house to Auntie Audie's place, then back to our house with a broken umbrella just to borrow money for my sister who needed to go to school for a test.

It's really heartbreaking.

When my older brothers learned what happened, they all got mad at Auntie Audie. How can she do that knowing that she's our father's sister? But Inay stopped us from getting too much of our emotions. She told us to be good and study harder.

I know my parents are poor, but they have a good heart. They may not be good providers but they do their best to support our big family. Auntie Audie is rich but she turned her back on my Inay, on us. But you know what? I took that as a challenge. We all did.

I studied hard. We all did. And all 12 siblings graduated from college. All are public school graduates. Some graduated with honors while others (like me) are licensed professionals.

We also helped ourselves. Whoever graduated first helped the next graduating brother or sister financially. Lucky for the youngest I guess.

Inay, who is a retired factory worker in a clothing company, now has her own tailoring business. Itay is now doing some taxi business with the help of our eldest sister who works as an accountant abroad.

Inay and Itay now have two accountants, an economist, a teacher, a management graduate, a chemist, two engineers, a biologist, an IT specialist, a seaman, and a lawyer. We all graduated from different fields but still understand one another. And once a year we all get together (some of us are working abroad) and have so much as we are actually a barkada within our own family.

‘Wang-wang’

From The Philippine Inquirer -

The "interim first lady" of East Timor, Jacqueline Aquino Siapno, is a Filipina political scientist married to Fernando de Araujo, president of the country’s National Parliament. She was back in the Philippines recently, for what she called a private visit. It was not the determinedly private nature of her visit that caught our attention; it was the resolutely modest way she went a-visiting. To quote our report - "After exchanging greetings [at the Manila airport] they [Jackie S. and her mother] took a cab and headed to a bus terminal in Pasay City where they boarded a bus bound for her native Dagupan. The Friday night trip took five hours. At the station, they hailed a tricycle and asked to be taken to their house..."

This isn’t merely a charming anecdote: it is an indirect indictment of the way most public officials in the Philippines conduct themselves. It reminds us of the inexhaustibly surprising quality of human nature. But it makes for a front-page story because it offers a contrast to the “wang-wang” culture of our political VIPs, both high and petty.

Ms Siapno may not know the meaning of “wang-wang”—she has lived abroad for most of her adult life, earning a Ph.D. from the UC Berkeley—but she should recognize the self-importance her old country’s politicians attach to themselves. Wang-wang is the siren that "very important people" acquire, whether they ride unescorted or as part of a convoy; the sound is a sign that the usual (traffic) rules do not apply to VIPs. They are, obviously, too important.

Alluded officials will object, after all her visit was a private affair. There is no comparison with their official travel.

Yes, but they would miss the point. Jackie S. could have used or borrowed a private vehicle. That she did not consider herself too good for an ordinary bus or a rickety tricycle tells us more about the dignity of public office than flashing lights and wailing sirens ever can.

But East Timor is a small, impoverished country. There is no comparison.

Again, they would miss the point. Substantial government resources are spent every year to provide public officials with the illusion that we are already a rich country. How many hundreds of soldiers, how many thousands of policemen, are assigned to public officials as personal security? Does a vice mayor of a second-class municipality really need a close-in bodyguard? Does a Cabinet secretary making the rounds in Metro Manila really need two beige-colored, red-plated AUVs to shadow his gas-guzzling SUV?

We are not asking public officials to use public transportation although that would amount to a moral revolution. We are only asking them to reconsider the sense of entitlement, the sense of inflated dignity they display because of their complicity in the wang-wang culture. Because in her simplicity, in her sure sense of self, Jackie S. reminds us how spoiled, self-indulgent, and corrupt many of our high-riding officials have become.