TREE

A man with the chain saw was loose in the forest.

Our need for firewood, the density of the forest around our cabin, and the Forest Service's suggestion that we "thin out" to reduce fire danger, all combined to make me and my chain saw a busy pair.

I have never been big into killing living things. I will use a Dust Buster to suck up house insects and deposit them outside where nature intended them to be. So, I don't take cutting living trees lightly. But because of the above reasons, on many a weekend I put on my Paul Bunyon shirt, Paul Bunyon hat and gloves, petted my Blue Ox Babe and "Bunyonized" our little piece of the forest.

I must admit, some of the thinning out was done for the purposes of a better view from the deck. The other trees picked for execution were those that didn't "look right." Those trees were twisted, bent, too thin, too fat, basically not aesthetically pleasing. I know that doesn't sound like a caring, nature lover, but some cutting needed to be done and to me those were as good criteria as any.

But I didn't touch Barney.

Since I'm not very good at technical scientific tree names, for purposes of identification I'll call this particular tree, Barney. I usually try not to get friendly enough to name a tree I'm going to cut off the face of the earth, but I made an exception for Barney.

Barney met all the short-list criteria for cutting. He was thin, and at about three feet from the ground Barney took a ninety-degree turn. Imperfection of all imperfections, he was growing right outside a large picture window and in all his unmajestic glory, Barney obstructed our view.

I fired up the chain saw, pulled my safety glasses down off my Paul Bunyon hat looked at Barney, shut off the chain saw, put my glasses back up on my Paul Bunyon hat, and went inside to think.

I was determining which trees were perfect and which trees were not. Nature never makes that arbitrary distinction. Do I do the same thing with people? I'm afraid, all too often, I do. How about you? Do you look at people and judge them as too thin, too fat, or too "bent" in some way? I'm not saying you shouldn't judge, I doubt most of us will ever get to that high level of being where we are forever non judgmental, but how does that judgment affect your behavior toward the "imperfect" people?

I decided to leave Barney alone as a reminder to me how much more advanced Mother Nature was then I will ever be. She nurtured Barney just as she did her "perfect" trees.

Over the years we owned the cabin I was granted the privileged to watch Barney slowly and steadily straighten up, even when the heavy snows of winter tried to keep him down. I witnessed that scrawny stick fatten up the closer he got to the sun. He become a Barney to be proud of.

The day we moved out I took one last look over my shoulder at Barney, and I swear he winked at me.

Lesson: Ugly is in the eyes of the beholder.

WHO ME?

When I was asked to write an article for a book on success stories, my first thought was "What can I contribute?" I haven't been trapped in a coal mine and saved 25 of my coworkers. I haven't been on a Super Bowl winning team, adopted ten handicapped children, triumphed over massive head injury or built a multi-million dollar international company from the ground up.

Not only haven't I done any of those things, I don't personally know anybody who would qualify as the classic "success" story. That thought discouraged me until I realized something might be wrong with the classic meaning of success.

A friend had told me he was having more fun ever since he rethought and redefined fun. I think it was time for me to rethink and redefine success.

I decided success is not about winning at sports, finance, business, social status, or overcoming adversity. Success is about each of us doing our best at what we think is important.

Since we all don't believe the same things are important, who is to say each life is or is not a success story? Only we know how far we've come and how far we want to go. We must not allow anyone else to determine our success.

My mother committed 24 hours a day to raising two, clean, God- fearing, vegetable-eating boys. My father was a policeman for 40 years. He kept his nose clean even though he had plenty opportunity to line his pockets with ill-gotten gains. Instead he worked three jobs to insure his children a better life than he had. Successes? You bet.

Millions of people everyday who go about their lives contributing to their community by doing an honest day's work, caring for their families, worshiping what's in their heart to worship, and being gentle to others and the environment are successes. The family across the street that takes in foster children, the man from the office who works with the elderly on the weekends, the friend who suffers illnesses courageously, people who leave the world just a little better than when they came - those should be our heroes. These people are our genuine success stories, and they are everywhere we look.

We each have within us an extraordinary success story. So what if nobody else wants to hear it or Reader's Digest won't print it. The stories are ours, and nobody can take away from us the successes we are when we're doing our best at what we feel is important. You may have wanted to be like the late Paul Newman and ended up more like Alfred E. but you're a a success if you are the best Alfred E. you can be.

Lesson: You're most successful when doing your best at what you feel is important.