Richard Rich Eric Baker

BAKER Richard Eric February 26, 1939. Born in Chittiagong, India, passed away peacefully with his wife by his side on November 11, 2009 in Delta, B.C. He is lovingly remembered by his wife of 46 years Penny; his daughters Lisa (David) Loewen and Julie (JJ) Atkinson; 3 granddaughters Chloe, Olivia and Summer; relatives and many good friends. Richard grew up in West Vancouver, graduated from UBC with a Bachelor of Commerce in 1961 and dedicated himself to his career in finance and his family. He loved to paint, golf and swim. He'll be remembered for his personalized cards and his dry sense of humor. A Memorial Service will be held on Thursday, November 19, 2009 at 11:00 am at Victory Memorial Park Funeral Centre, 14831 - 28th Avenue, Surrey, B.C. In lieu of flowers donations may be made to Prostate Cancer Research or Delta Hospice.

My Memoirs — by Richard E. Baker.

This will be divided into three chapters, (only chapter 1 was written);

1.Birth to arrival in Canada at age seven. “The Raj Brat”. (Starring Bart Simpson).

2.Growing up in West Vancouver and U.B.C.

3.My adult life. (Some may say starring Homer Simpson).

Chapter 1. The Raj Brat

I was born on Feb.26, 1939 in India during an interesting time when the British ruled India. Fortunately I happened to be British. Mom and Dad were born in England in 1900 & 1901. Dad was an Electrical-Mechanical Engineer and I believe was the Deputy General Manager with the Bengal Assam Railway. He had come out in 1925 to work on another Railway out of Bombay and then Mom came out a year later and they were married. They established a good life and 14 years later I was born. In the meantime they also had my two sisters Daphne (9 years older) and Sheila (6 years older).

Life was good; a nice house, six month’s leave every three years to travel the World, First Class travel at reduced rates, and a private railway car when they traveled around India. They always had about six servants, however two were special to us. A couple, Aya and Umerali, were with them right from Daphne’s birth to the day we left India in 1947—about 18 years.

These are my recollections starting around 1943 as I awoke from babyhood;

1. The War was on so we were trapped in India. Dad joined the Army in the engineering corps and was commissioned a Major and later promoted to Lt.Col. Mom joined the Army Intelligence Corp. around 1944 when we lived in Calcutta and was a Captain. This “damned War” was blamed for so many shortages, for me the main problem was not enough toys. I think the Japanese in Burma got within about three hundred miles from where we lived once. They would have enjoyed throwing me up in the air and bayoneting me, (I heard that’s what they did to kids). One advantage of Army life was the Officer’s Clubs, (in Calcutta the Club had an outdoor red brick pool with a wood-latticed island in the middle and inside was a concrete pool with a cascading waterfall-slide. Being an Officer allowed for some extra rations, such as Mom made beautiful feeling silk pajamas for me out of a parachute

2. I did not know Sheila and Daphne while I was in India because they were in Canada, where my parents had taken them in 1940 to escape the coming War. I do not remember that trip as I was about 18 months old. We took passenger liners to Hong Kong, Japan, Hawaii, and finally to San Francisco. Then we traveled by train to Glaslyn, Saskatchewan, by way of Vancouver. Sheila and Daphne lived with my aunt Doris and Uncle Glen on their farm for three years. It must have been a shock for them from coming from a life of privilege to fetching water from a well, using an outhouse, doing farm chores and living in an old clapboarded uninsulated house. Aunt Doris and Uncle Glen must have made it a happy home because they seemed to have enjoyed their life there. I have always admired the self-sufficiency that they had with no electricity and no running water. Then Daphne and Sheila moved to West Vancouver where they boarded with an elderly couple who had a beautiful home with large garden. We were reunited after the War.

3. Thus I was originally raised as an only child, with these two mythical Sisters who lived far away in a place called Canada. Mom, Dad, Umerali (our butler), and Aya (my nanny) were my original family. My daughters are horrified to see pictures of Umerali with a brass “EWB” on his turban. Mom and Dad were always seemed very kind to Aya and Umerali. Umerali was my kindly “old Uncle”, who always smiled at me, (I think he got a kick out of my troublemaking). I loved Aya and cried when we parted, (she was my Grandmother). I remember she picked me up at School and I was so embarrassed that she saw the Teacher strap me with a ruler on the hand.

4. There were also revolving servants as we moved around, usually younger guys who took me for walks. I remember one ran off with our clock. Others would take me to see their families in the slums when we were supposed to be at parks. We would often get into trouble as I will describe later.

5. We lived around India. I don’t remember Chittagong, Bengal, where I was born. Conscious life starts for me in New Delhi, the Army Head Office and Capital of India. In the hot summer the Army HQ would move to Simila in the Himalayas and that is where I remember a number of things;

a. We were probably there on three occasions for about four-six months.

b. We lived in an apartment building with other Officers. It was located on top of a hill by the town.

c. I remember the Officers would leave their boots outside their doors to be polished and we gang of 3-5 year-old hellions ran off with them and hid them.

d. At the back of the hill, in the jungle, there was a landslide area that was just perfect to slide down. Mom used to give me hell for coming home with a huge hole in my pants. The neat part I remember was that we would wake up the Monkeys in the trees off to the side and they would go crazy.

e. We actually would stay until it snowed and the sledding was wonderful. One of the young servants threw a snowball at a policeman, who then chased us. I guess he thought a British boy would provide immunity but it didn’t because we were herded to the Police Station.

f. I remember my parents’ friends taking me to my first Church service. I found it very spooky and cried all through it and these friends were quite cheezed off when they returned me to my parents.

g. Speaking about crying, I saw my first movie, Bambi.

h. There was the neatest small gage railway that climbed up to Simla, (quite like the one at Disneyland). Once when we were ready to board at the bottom, Dad held the train up because he had not finished his breakfast in the outdoor restaurant, while the whole train watched us. He had the advantage of being a railway executive as well as a senior officer. (No wonder the Indians eventually threw us out!).

6. We eventually moved to Calcutta. There we lived in a large fourplex with a large garden, servants' quarters, back entry driveway-parking lot, and a high wall surrounding. Some of my memories are:

a. We lived across from a lake that was filled with reeds. Since this was in Calcutta, the Indians used it to wash clothes, swim, etc. When someone would drown the Indians would say that the Lake monster dragged them down. Mom said it was the reeds.

b. The garden had a large rectangular lawn surrounded by flower beds, banana trees and the wall. I have fond memories of playing soccer there. One of the neighbors was always complaining about me- I don’t know why?

c. When the warm monsoons came my parents would have me run around in the courtyard in the nude.

d. Some Indians would go to the bathroom in the flower beds outside everyone’s walls. It did not embarrass them to have people watch.

e. The smells of India are really something. A beautiful garden can smell like perfume from the rapidly decaying flowers and by contrast if you are near an open bathroom area- that’s an assault to the nostrils.

f. As we would walk down the street interesting people would approach you such as;

i. a guy with a huge python around his neck,

ii. a snake charmer with a basketful of cobras,

iii. a man and daughter who put on an act whereby the Dad stabs his daughter with a real knife through a blanket several times.

iv. a poor Lady with a hole for a nose, which has been eaten by Leprosy,

v. a good old Brahma bull who says he has the right-of-way,

vi. a criminal running from a chasing policeman just behind,

vii. and many many beggars.

7. I went to stay at a Tea plantation. Here again these were friends of my parents, (until I completed my stay), who were kind to me and gave me a free run (what a mistake). Some memories are;

a. I don’t exactly remember where it was. A junior Officer took Aya and I on an overnight train and then a riverboat to get there and then I think another train. So it could have been in northern Assam?

b. We went on a Tiger hunt because this Tiger had killed some people. It was not exciting as it was a cage with a goat as bait inside and when the Tiger went in the cage the door would slam shut and he/she would be shot.

c. They took me on a crow shooting expedition. The whole village followed to pick up the crows for dinner.

d. I saw a most amazing magic trick. A snake charmer had arrived and a crowd surrounded him. A couple of teenagers were verbally giving him a rough time. He called one over and told him to cup his hands. Then the snake charmer poured some earth into the wise guy’s hands. The snake charmer stood back and blew in his pipe, (a flute with a big round bubble in the middle), and made the usual snake charmer music/noise. All of a sudden a Cobra popped out of the wise guy’s hands. He the dropped the Cobra and ran off.

e. There was a bell for the tea-pickers to start and stop work. It was a three foot long piece of railway track dangling from a tree. It must have been about 3pm and I could not resist banging it. Well looking at the hill full of tee plants, suddenly hundreds of workers stood up and shuffled off with their tea bags on their backs. At supper, as I had my face in the soup, the Tea Planter was saying, “I wonder who rang the bell?”

8. Kashmir was our favourite holiday spot and I think we went there about three times for about a month at a time. Some memories are;-

a. Even though Dad was in the Army, he would still use his railway privilege to get a private railway car.

b. We would rent a neat two story houseboat complete with servants.

c. It would be tied to a shore with a gangplank. When we wanted to change location, a team of workers would come with poles and by using a technique of walking along a foot wide plank that ran alongside the workers would pole us around the lake.

d. Fruits and vegetables were sold by vendors who rowed up to us. They used shovels as paddles.

e. I loved the floating gardens, which actually were floating islands.

f. Butterflies were as big as your hand and very colourful.

g. Kashmir then seemed pristine and pure. The smell was fresh with a bit of perfume in the woods.

h. On the way Mom and Dad sometimes fished in the river gorges.

Rich’s Memorial by Bob Hawkins

I first met Rich in 1954 at West Van High. I was the new guy in class and trying to see where I fit in. Rich stood out as a guy well liked by everyone —students and faculty. He showed good character as a teenager. That good character grew , flourished and supported him as he grew older.

Over the years we remained friends even as other friendships came and went. And business travels kept me away from BC for many years. But that did not cause our friendship to wane.

We were friends through college, and in the post graduation years when we were developing our careers and starting our own families. We married within six months of each other. And each of us remained married all these years to the same wives. That is unfortunately an unusual statistic these days. And as Rich and I remained close friends, so to has Penny and my wife Sandy. It was a remarkable coincidence when we both purchased homes on the same street in Tsawwassen in the late 60s—at a time when Tsawwassen was nothing but a village and a long distance from our West Van roots. There we started our families and Rich’s and Penny’s two daughters were each born within a few months of each of my wife Sandy’s and my two daughters. Of course just to be different, Sandy and I added a son between the daughters. I sometimes kidded Rich that he must have been out of town for a couple of months in 1972. Lisa and Julie were still young kids as I moved my family to California but even then I could see the strength of family that Rich and Penny were developing.

I was always attracted to Rich’s calm manner, his dry sense of humor, his ethics, his good business sense and his sense of family. But it has struck me that as we reach our senior years, all the things that were important when we were younger—things such as business development, finances and other once critical issues become considerably less important. The realization develops that what is important is what we leave behind—a good marriage, a wonderful family with good values, and the friends developed and fostered over the years. Nothing else matters much. With that in mind we can safely say that Rich died a very successful man. He has a wonderful wife and family, all having a good value system, grandchildren he adored, and friends who have loved him and respected him for many years. I don’t think we seniors can ask for more.

But my warm recollections of Rich are less important than your own. It would be a good thing if each of us took a few moments to reflect about how we knew Rich and what we valued most in the friendship we have had with this wonderful man. Let us take 20 seconds of private time to reflect. I hope to see smiles on many of your faces as you recall the good times we all had with Rich and Penny. Rich I know, would like to see you smiling today.

Thank you all and God Bless you Rich.

Uncle Richard by Eric Fletcher

Thank you all again for coming. This chap, my Uncle Richard, meant a lot to me.

I was pleased to be asked to say a few words.

I tend to do better in writing but this is a welcome opportunity

I knew Rich didn’t want visitors so I asked about getting a note to him and set out to put a few things to paper. He passed before receiving them.

I thought for a moment about what would be important as I reflected on my own life.

Maybe some part of it is about how you’ve helped other people or laid a path they may choose to explore in their own development.

As I look back on my own life there are a handful of people, who’ve really influenced the way I perceive things, how I go about achieving things and the impact I have on those around me. I’m very fortunate, I could probably count them on one hand and all but Rich are still with me.

I sure didn’t need to think very long or very hard to jot down a few of the many ways in which Rich has had, and continues to have, a tremendous impact on my life. He was bright, perhaps even brilliant, and he was patient. He didn’t need to see immediate results, there were building blocks and there was a process. There were seeds to be sewn, opportunities to watch for and results to be waited on.

ROCKET

He wasn’t all business though, he was a very funny guy and a great play toy or maybe I was the play toy, or even his psychology experiment, looking back on it I’m not sure.

I remember waking up early one Christmas morning when I was about 5 or 6 years old to find Rich curled up in my bottom bunk.

He wasn’t exactly curled up sleeping, it was a kid sized bunk. In fact, I think he was probably lying in wait for me.

There he was, my life sized, not so stuffed play toy. He’d come in from his air force training overnight and he had a present for me. I don’t think it was wrapped, if it was we had that off quickly and before I knew it we were outside with barely enough light to see what we were doing.

We lived in Richmond when it was still mostly farmland and he thought that would be a great place to learn about how parachutes deploy. So, we trundled down the road with our elaborate, if somewhat large, rocket with auto-deploying parachute, to find a field I could try it in.

I tried pulling back on this large rubber assembly to launch it and sure enough, after it stopped traveling up, out came a bright white and red parachute, at about 20’, it didn’t open completely before it hit the ground so we quickly learned that if you were going to use a parachute you needed to be pretty high up.

I think we also covered that jumping from a roof with an umbrella really wouldn’t work either.

A few more tries and finally, with Rich holding the stick up above my head, and me pulling down on the rocket I almost got it to the moon – maybe 50’ – but I got a great deploy on the parachute.

Rich’s turn!, let’s see what this baby can really do. And see what it could do we did.

It went up, it went higher and it went higher and a way up there, probably several hundred feet, the parachute deployed , it caught the wind and it was time to start running.

We watched as the wind carried it across adjacent fields, high above fences, a few ditches and as I recall, one of Richmond’s infamous irrigation canals.

We ran, we climbed over or slid under and waded through but we learned another important lesson – recovery. Or, check the wind before you take to the air.

CONVERTIBLE

A few years later while driving somewhere in his little red convertible sports car he thought it was a good time to play ambulance.

If granny (his mother) ever needed to get to the hospital in a hurry, we’d need to strap her to the roof, I’d hold the rope and be in charge of the ambulance noise while he drove.

I remember having tears in my eyes laughing so hard as he craned his neck out through the top of the sports car, speeding down the upper levels highway going SIREN SIREN.

I’m not sure what the lesson was there, maybe sometimes it’s just time for fun. Or maybe it was about painting the picture. He did it in great detail, I bought into it, and I hurt from the laughing. It was a good hurt.

HAIRCUT

When I got a little older, maybe 10 or 11, Rich used to hire me to come over and do some brush cleaning and other things in his yard.

As I reflect on it, it probably wasn’t good value for the money but it was an adventure – for both of us.

This would have been about 1965, the Beatles and the Beatle haircuts were all the rage and I had one – without the daily styling the fab four probably had.

We’d no sooner left my house and hit the highway when Rich suggested – hey, why don’t we go get a hair cut. I wasn’t keen but a bit of negotiating and a $5 incentive later, there I was getting scalped - not too bad, just a neatening up.

He topped it off by saying I’d given in too early, much too early, he’d have paid much more.

The next time cost him 10 bucks and it was a real hair cut, not a Beatle cut but there was still lots of hair left. Well worth the 10 bucks.

A few months later we went at it again but this time there was a twist

• $10 for something just like the last two, or

• $15 for a real scalping, they called them crew cuts at the time.

Not a chance! $20?, nope. $25? nope, . . .and there might have been the first lesson.

You could do a lot with ten bucks in those days and once you had what you needed maybe there were other things that counted. . . .

An early introduction to Mazlow’s hierarchy of needs and motivational strategy. At some point it ain’t about the money to be sure.

AFTER

After that there were a lot of things . . . the odd comment, the odd insightful question. He was important to me, I remembered them, I thought about them and many of them led me to discovering something or looking at things in a different way.

BOOKS

Then at about 13 or so the books started arriving.

On a birthday or at Christmas he’d bring over

• Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill,

• You can profit from the coming devaluation , again by Napoleon Hill

• Guerilla Marketing by Al Ries and Jack Trout

and on the list went.

I don’t think he knew it at the time but I read every one of them and I re-read most of them . . . several times as I got older.

They weren’t about making money as much as they were about piercing the veil and looking at the world, finance and marketing for what they really were, and still are.

I learned to question, and to look at the root causes and motivation behind things.

I learned some great writing and communication techniques.

He put in front of me an opportunity to see and be exposed to things you wouldn’t have found in the school library even if you did think to go looking for them.

He laid a path I chose to tread and what a path it’s been.

LUNCH

When I reached my mid twenties we’d meet for lunch some times. He suggested it the first time and gave me an address. Not a Keg, or some other trendy restaurant but at an address that turned out to be the Board of Trade.

And there I’d find myself at a luncheon with the finance minister, justice critic or some other speaker skilled at articulating whatever message he was trying to deliver and getting you to buy into it.

I don’t think it was about the message as much as it was about the delivery.

CHINE

Finally, I remember him telling me after the failure of one of his own business ventures that you shouldn’t look at them as failures and walk from them.

You should look at them as flawed plans or good plans with flawed execution and most importantly you should take the time to understand what you’re getting in to.

Don’t entrust it to the lawyers or the accountants, he said, they’ll dot the I’s and cross the T’s but the devil is in the details and in understanding the details.

The magic is in putting them together and looking out for yourself, everyone else is just a hired gun and you can’t rely on them to do the thinking for you.

When I reflect on the small parts of Rich’s life that I was a part of, I know he made a big difference in my mine and that I in turn pass much of the wisdom he led me to along to others who marvel at it.

In that way the, the paths he laid live on as small part of the legacy that is Richard Baker

Walk in peace my friend. Namaste.

Memories of Dad by Julie Atkinson

My dad has taught me many things over the years, and I thought I’d share some of these with you today.

As a child, dad and I spent hours looking through old family photos, maps, and his stamp and coin collections. Through this time he taught me the importance in knowing one’s history to know who you are. It also sparked the travel bug in me to see all the places we talked about.

For a few years, I carpooled with dad when going to school in Vancouver so naturally we talked a lot about traffic. Two lessons stand out:

1. Avoid rush hour traffic by all means necessary, especially through the tunnel. His preferred tactic was to wake up at 4 AM to get to the office by 6 AM. This isn’t as bad as it sounds because he still had time for a leisurely lunch at Joe Fortes and was home by 3 PM.

2. His second lesson was when the forecast is for snow, you should pack an overnight bag and be prepared to camp out at the Four Seasons until the snow melts or Mom calls us to come home.

Dad also constantly washed his hands and used hand-sanitizer long before H1N1 and other Health Department recommendations. He taught us how to use our sleeves or pinky fingers to open doors to avoid germs. We use to think he was paranoid, but you know I don’t remember him ever taking a sick day until recently.

Whether he blamed it on his British-Indian influences or not, my dad taught me it’s o.k. to use obscure references or sarcasm to imply a meaning. Family favourites include: jitney bus, bubbly squeak, or Signorney Weaver.

From Dad’s work experience I learned these lessons:

- Don’t get wrapped up in office politics, it’s not worth the energy

- Make sure you always put your best effort into your work

- Don’t compromise yourself, and when necessary be prepared to tell someone to “Bugger off”.

- Always take initiative and never be afraid to ask for something; the worst anyone can say to you is no.

However, even though my dad worked hard on his career, he was the original advocate for Work-Life Balance. He always made time for his family. I don’t remember too many nights when he wasn’t home for dinner.

Through his example he taught me the importance to make time for yourself whether that’s going for a long walk with a friend, a swim, or sitting in the sun reading a book.

Some of you may not know that my dad was an artist. Through this he taught me to pursue your passions and do what makes you happy. However, if that happiness comes from sneaking a second helping of dessert, don’t do it in front of a tattle-tail grand-daughter.

My dad taught me a lot about marriage and parenthood too. Bringing us tea in the morning was one small way for him to show us his love and his desire to do whatever to make his family happy.

Observing the love my parents’ have for one another taught me the importance of marrying my best friend.

But I think the one lesson he taught that was exemplified in these past few months was to always keep a positive attitude; in good times or when faced with adversity whether it was financial, professional, or one’s health.

I don't know if he knew it, but my dad has been a great influence in my life and I’ll be sure to pass on his lessons to my daughter.

Comments for Richard's Funeral by Reed Jarvis

My name is Reed Jarvis and I am a cousin by marriage to Penny which makes me what we used to call a "shirt-tail relative." When Denise and I married 32 years ago, I inherited Penny and Richard. Over the years, Richard and I visited a lot and enjoyed each other's company. Their move to Ladner made it easy to visit.

I don't have any personal stories of Richard as others do, but I want to say that he was a wonderful person. I would sit in Penny's chair and we would visit about our childhoods, military experiences, grandchildren, sailing, politics, history, and economics. Niether one of us was at a loss for words. I must admit that I would set him up by asking questions like, "How come the Liberals are Conservatives in Canada?" Even though we had different views, RIchard was always kind enough to hear me out. I have no idea what he said to Penny as we headed home, but we were always invited back.

Over the last year, Richard and I talked by phone quite often and what struck me was Richards' bravery. He faced his disease head on and was realistic about the outcome. I was seriously ill a few months ago and could relate to what Richard was facing. My dictionary defines "bravery" as "able or ready to face and endure danger or pain." I can't think of a better word to describe how Richard acted over the past few months.

Another word that describes Richard is kind-hearted. I never heard him say anything disparaging about anyone or anything. That is a rare quality in today's world where all knds of inflammatory words are thrown around without regard for their impact. Richard loved Penny very much and he was proud of his daughters and their husbands. He adored his grand-daughters. We would often discuss how having grandchildren enriched our lives and how nice it was just to have them around.

Richard will be missed, but thought of often. We are all richer from having known him and want Penny and the family to know how much he meant to Denise and me.

Richard Baker – Nov 19 2009,

Eulogy by Clive Rush

When Penny first asked me to speak today, 2 thoughts about Richard immediately came to my mind – first, that his clients, including myself, had lost an excellent financial advisor and, more importantly, I had lost a very good friend.

These 2 candid thoughts put together attest to Richard’s abilities, character and integrity. In these times when miracle financial returns are often promised and disastrous results typically delivered, it’s unusual to find a financial advisor who is also a long term friend.

I first became acquainted with Richard over 20 years ago when we were attending the same church and bible study. As our friendship grew, we often met for lunch downtown where we both worked.

It was then that I learned about Richard’s broad experience in the world of finance.

After graduating from university with a Bachelor of Commerce, he worked in many different areas of finance – stock trading and promotion, trust and estate management, manufacturing, and property development and management.

He likely worked in other areas as well, but true to his modest nature, never mentioned them to me.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Richard was a shrewd entrepreneur. He continued to impress me with descriptions of initiatives he had started in the past to generate income in some challenging situations.

He soon began handling a small part of our modest portfolio and we eventually decided that he should be our SOLE financial advisor.

We put our complete trust in him. We appreciated his disciplined and meticulous approach to making investment decisions.

He was always patient and willing to keep answering (sometimes repeatedly) basic financial questions from my financially naïve engineering mind.

Richard was not only an accomplished financial advisor but also a very good friend. In the days ahead I’ll miss the frequent ‘brekkys’ and coffee breaks we shared. We always enjoyed sharing news about our jobs and our families, especially our grandchildren.

With our common dry sense of humour, we also enjoyed sharing comments on recent happenings and on the inconsistencies of the world around us. We thought a lot alike.

Richard’s fine character shone through in everything he said and did. He was a person of great empathy. Many times I saw him reach out to others in tough situations and do whatever he could to help improve their lives.

His solid character is also evidenced by the achievements of and the quality of life now led by his wife of 46 years, his children, sons-in-law and grandchildren.

Richard was also a believer, a man of deep faith and conviction. I still remember his baptism where he explained how he had prayed for his daughter to be cured of a serious illness, and was following through on his promise to be baptized when she was cured.

His deep faith was also evidenced through the last few months as his health deteriorated. During that time I met with him regularly and there was never a complaint, just the occasional objective update on his activities.

Richard researched his options and understood his medical prognosis thoroughly, but throughout his illness, he displayed an inner peace that I will never forget.

Right now I’m betting that he’s looking down on this service and wondering what all the fuss is about.

We here can rest assured that a good man has gone to be with his maker.

Our family extends our heartfelt condolences to Penny, Lisa, Dave, Chloe, Livi – Julie, JJ, Summer and the rest of Richard’s fine family for their significant loss.

God be with you all and comfort you in this sad time.

Some of Dad's Favourite Poems

"Climb 'Til Your Dream Comes True" by Helen Steiner Rice

Often your tasks will be many,

And more than you think you can do.

Often the road will be rugged

And the hills insurmountable, too.

But always remember,

The hills ahead

Are never as steep as they seem,

And with Faith in your heart

Start upward

And climb 'til you reach your dream.

For nothing in life that is worthy

Is ever too hard to achieve

If you have the courage to try it,

And you have the faith to believe.

For faith is a force that is greater

Than knowledge or power or skill,

And many defeats turn to triumph

If you trust in God's wisdom and will.

For faith is a mover of mountains,

There's nothing that God cannot do,

So, start out today with faith in your heart,

And climb 'til your dream comes true!

"The Man Who Thinks He Can" by Walter D. Wintle

If you think you are beaten, you are;

If you think you dare not, you don't.

If you'd like to win, but think you can't

It's almost a cinch you won't.

If you think you'll lose, you've lost,

For out in the world we find

Success being with a fellow's will;

It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you're outclassed, you are:

You've got to think high to rise.

You've got to be sure of yourself before

You can ever win a prize.

Life's battles don't always go

To the stronger or faster man,

But soon or late the man who wins

Is the one who thinks he can.

“The Reluctant Investor” by Don Weill

I hesitate to make a list

Of all the countless deals I’ve missed;

Bonanzas that were in my grip -

I watched them through my fingers slip;

The windfalls which I should have bought

were lost because I over-thought;

I thought of this, I thought of that,

I could have sworn I smelled a rat,

And while I thought things over twice,

Another grabbed them at the price,

It seemed I always hesitate,

Then make my mind up much too late,

A very cautious man am I

And that is why I never buy.

When tracts rose high on Sixth and Third,

The prices asked, I felt absurd;

Those block-fronts - bleak and black with soot-

Were priced at thirty bucks a foot!

I wouldn’t even make a bid,

But others did — yes, others did!

When Tucson was cheap desert land,

I could have had a heap of sand;

When Phoenix was the place to buy,

I thought the climate much too dry!

“Invest in Dallas-That’s the spot!”

My sixth sense warned me I should not,

A very prudent man am I

And that is why I never buy.

How Nassau and Suffolk grew!

North Jersey! Staten Island too!

When others culled those sprawling farms

And welcomed deals with open arms…

A corner here, ten acres there,

Compounding values year by year,

I chose to think and as I thought,

They bought the deals I should have bought.

The Golden chances I had then

Are lost and will not come again,

Today I can not be enticed

For everything’s so overpriced.

The deals of yesteryear are dead;

The market’s soft — and so’s my head!

Last night I had a fearful dream,

I know I wakened with a scream;

Some Indians approached my bed –

For trinkets on the barrelhead,

In dollar bills worth twenty-four,

And nothing less and nothing more,

They’d sell Manhattan Isle to me,

The most I’d go was twenty-three.

The redman scowled: “Not on a bet!”

And sold to Peter Minuit.

At times a teardrop drowns my eye

For deals I had, but did not buy;

And now life’s saddest words I pen

“IF ONLY I’D INVESTED THEN!”

"It was the Dreaded Cancer You See" - Author Unknown

It was the dreaded cancer you see

The PSA and Biopsy were clear

The start of Prostate cancer was in me

So this was another cross to bear

I had to choose radiation or surgery

Info from doctors and internet to find

I was a Gleason 7 and young – healthy

And long life – unless? It boggled the mind.

Make sure the cancer did not spread in my body

Discussions with my doctor, urologist, and oncologist

Surgery seemed the best option for me.

The operation did not hurt ---- ist

But the 4 weeks of catheter was an ordeal

Finally the healing took place

A good biopsy for cancer gave me a real

Relief by saying my Lymph Node had no trace

Of cancer and the surrounding area was clear

Though I am relieved and have no pain

Still on edge – it could return I fear

By God’s grace. I am clearly born again

Now I think I should change my life’s race

Certainly I should be a better person.