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I pulled this off the Direct Marketing Association’s newsletter. Facebook continues to be hot news. Note the estimated value in the last line. Wow!  I bet you didn’t realize it is that popular!

“FACEBOOK GETS BIG INVESTMENT.  The Samwer brothers of Europe have agreed to invest in social-networking site Facebook Inc., according to a spokesman for the brothers.  The size of the investment is roughly$10 million to $15 million, said a person familiar with the matter. The personal investment by brothers Alexander, Oliver and Marc Samwer— the founders of Alando.de, an online auction site that was sold to eBay Inc. — follows a $240 million Facebook investment by Microsoft Corp. and a $60 million investment by Li Ka-shing, chairman of the Hong Kong conglomerate Hutchison Whampoa Ltd.  The investments value Palo Alto, Calif.-based Facebook at $15 billion.”

This came out of the Direct Marketing Association newsletter.  This confirms buzz that more and more folks are watching TV and video online. It also confirms that use of mobile technology will continue to grow. 

“AMERICANS MORE WIRED, NEW MEDIA SURVEY FINDS.  About 38% of US consumers are watching TV shows online, 36% use their cell phones as entertainment devices, and 45% are creating online content like websites, music, videos, and blogs for others, according to a new-media survey from Deloitte & Touche.” 

How do you make your writing more readable?   

As a young marketing person/ writer, I discovered that long copy isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially if the content or message is strong. But, it needs to be readable. If a reader looks at content and sees a paragraph that is half a page long, it may send a message that says, “Okay, this may take some time.”  Or worse, “Oh boy, this looks over my head.”

Since we live in a culture of fast communication, those aren’t the kind of thoughts you want swimming around in your readers’ heads. So long copy may not be as bad as you think, but copy that looks intimidating can be discouraging to a reader. 

As I think back on past Christmas seasons, many Christmas seasons come to mind. But one always sticks out. It was my first Christmas after going off to college.

I grew up in a small town—a very small town. During my early school years, I walked two hundred yards to attend my elementary school. Middle school was more of a challenge—I had to catch a bus that drove us kids a whole two miles from our house. But then once in high school, I was back to walking to school each morning—three blocks to reach the doors of our high school.

The high school football stadium was one house over from ours—free football games throughout the fall! Plus, if this wasn’t heaven on earth, directly behind our house, one street over, was a large forest of virgin pine trees—perfect for many an adventure for me and my boyhood buddies. If you’re thinking Andy Taylor and Mayberry, you’re real close.

So, for me to go off to a large city and to attend a university with a population of students as large as our entire town was intimidating to say the least. Of course, I’d never admit it then, but on that first day on campus, as I drove into the dorm parking lot for the first time in late August, I wondered if I’d measure up. I wondered if I’d be like one of those poor souls that I had witnessed go off to college and then in humiliation, come dragging back home by mid-semester.

But I survived. In fact, I kind ‘a enjoyed it this new place of the mind. However, as I came home for that first Christmas of college, I realized my life had changed forever.

For one, my parents treated me different. I can’t explain how, but it was just different. It’s as if I had jumped to a new level in life. Gone were the days of the kid who could never keep his room clean, to the young man who had survived on his own.  The love I felt from my parents as a young boy seemed to change to a love of pride and respect.

Other adults seemed to treat me different. I wasn’t really on their level, but I felt much closer. The conversations were more as one might talk to a friend rather than an adult talking down to a young teenager. It felt strange. I was in a new world.

Of course, as probably every freshman college student experiences, I felt a new appreciation for my family and our home. Christmas seemed more alive than ever before. The decorations, the tree, the gifts—and especially the food, all possessed a warm, comforting glow. After a semester in a noisy dorm, I embraced my home as I had never done before.

It’s funny, but I can still feel the emotions I felt during that first college Christmas. It was a great Christmas. It proved to be a measuring stick on my life. It was a time when I realized that I had moved to a whole new level.

A question: If you received a gift of five million dollars tomorrow, what would you do?  Let me be specific: Would you retire and stop what you are currently doing for a living?

P.S. I know this seems like a silly question. And, I must admit, my first reaction is probably the same as yours. However, after thinking about it, I’m not so sure I know the answer. I watched my dad retire and in an instant, stop what he had been doing all of his life. I’m not sure such a retirement was good for my dad.

P.P.S. After receiving a phone call from a friend who enjoyed the question but didn’t want to post an answer, I realized the question is somewhat like the young pastoral student’s first sermon. You know, the one where he says, “I know you’re cheating on your taxes. I know you’re not working your eight hours a day– you need to come down and meet the Lord!” Of course, everyone sat frozen in their seats. So, it’s okay if you don’t want to leave a comment. But, I hope it does cause all of us to think about the question.

I’m the world’s worst about keeping everything. So, in the last couple of weeks, my wife and I decided to start the process of reducing clutter in our house. Now, a little insider info: What that really means is getting rid of a lot of my books.

Being in the publishing business, I receive a lot review copies. So, we got started boxing up books. We’re now at over thirty boxes of books to give away, and more coming. Good bye, my friends.

While sorting through everything, I came across Henry Nouwen’s book, Making All Things New. For me, discarding books is much like those of us who love chocolate trying to trash excess candy boxes—one can’t help but stop and partake during the process. So even though Henry’s little book was saved from banishment, I still had to sit and read it for a while. Here’s something I came across…

“One of the most notable characteristics of worrying is that it fragments our lives. The many things to do, to think about, to plan for, the many people to remember, to visit, or to talk with, the many causes to attack or defend, all these pull us apart and make us lose our center. Worrying causes us to be ‘all over the place,’ but seldom at home. One way to express the spiritual crisis of our time is to say that most of us have an address but cannot be found there.” 

I must admit, I worry more than I should. I’ve noticed worry consumes my time and thought, which, as Henry might say, leaves an empty house when others come to visit. Henry hit me where it hurts.

After reading these words, I decided to try something new this year during the Christmas season. While I love this time or year, my mind always drifts to business—how to improve this and how to make that better. That’s not bad, but I tend to do it a lot.

Here’s what I’ve decided to do: Our two daughters will be home from college in a week. I have a choice. I can use the time while they are here to worry about this and that. Or, I can use it to bring as much joy to our home as possible. I decided on choice #2.

So, I will do my work the best that I can—that’s my responsibility. But, when complete, I will set it aside… and then devote my full attention to my family during this wonderful time of year.

I’m going to give it a whirl. My pray is a simple one—Father, help me bring joy to those in my life this Christmas season.

I have a great aunt named Martha.  She is now 89. In my younger days, as it goes with youth, I hardly noticed Martha—I saw only a smiling face and an occasional hug. Nothing more, nothing less. She was just another relative who seemed to be like all of my other many relatives.  

Martha and Vern never made the small town newspaper, never held office on the local town counsel, were never recognized for some outstanding work.  Her tiny house never won best lawn of the summer, or best Christmas decorations of the year. From the outside looking in, Martha and Vern just existed. 

But what I didn’t realize at the time, Martha and Vern were a part of a people who performed invisible good. They kept a close lookout for God in the boring muck of everyday life and jumped right in. But few noticed. 

I first noticed when my mother lay dying in a coma from a car accident. She and Vern came to the hospital and stayed with me. Not just a short visit. They stayed long after everyone had left. Not just for one day. Every day for almost a week. They never said much, but they were always there until the day Mom left us. 

After that, I paid attention to this quiet, unassuming couple.  

There were the small things. When a friend broke a hip, Martha took the time to purchase a small jar filled with candy orange slices. She knew her friend loved those things. She told me that a gift doesn’t have to be expensive, but it does need to be something special. It’s like that little treat that only your mother knows about. When the friend saw Martha, and saw the special treat in her hands, she threw up her arms in delight. 

Then there were the big things. The husband of an elderly neighbor couple lay dying of cancer.  As he grew weak, the wife could no longer take care of her husband. Martha and Vern hated to see him be moved to a cold, strange room for his final days. Vern stood over six-feet, five-inches and weighed every bit of 250. Even though aging, he still looked strong as an ox. So Martha and Vern helped take care of the dying neighbor. Everyday, Vern was there to aid the dying man in bathing and other necessities of life. He literally picked the man up in order to help him. Not just on occasion, but every day.  No pay. No notice. No nothing.

These were not exceptions in the lives of Martha and Vern… they were the common. 

We lost Vern only a year or so ago to Leukemia. 

Now, Martha lives in the same retirement home as my Dad. In some ways, I’m glad because I get to see her more. Even at 89, she’s still very active. She helps with the retirement center’s monthly newsletter, making sure it gets mailed out. She still sees all the little opportunities around her. She never stops.

It’s funny, but if you had asked me as youth what I thought of Martha, I would have shrugged and said how she had lived a good life. But, at the time, in the depths of my mind, I didn’t think her life amounted to much.  Now, I look and I think—a wasted life?  Hardly…

There are times when I don’t like what the business world does to people. I see it often. There are people I’ve known for years, changed over time due to an abundance of issues faced in the workplace. Betrayal, fear, greed, and many more issues—they all take their toll. However, in so many cases, it’s not so much what they do to themselves as it is how they begin to treat others around them.

I don’t like what it can do to me either.

That’s why I keep a photo of myself close at hand. It’s a photo of me when I was probably 5 years old, although the actual date is unknown. In the photo, I’m dressed in a cool cowboy outfit, complete with cowboy hat.

I look at it and I see innocence. I lost it along the way. We all do. That’s both good and bad. I want to keep the good, but remove the bad. Now, when I feel the stress of making a living push its way into my life, I stop and look at that photo. It helps inspire me to keep out the bad.

Tiny Brown just turned 99. She’s a small, thin lady whose mind is like a steal trap. She lives in the same retirement community as my dad, which is how I got to know her. When I ask her friends about her real first name, they simply shrug their shoulders. She’s been called Tiny for so long, no one knows her real first name.

But, I accidentally discovered her real first name. She recently broke her hip and was moved to another facility better suited for her healing process. I stopped by to see her one day—and there on her door was her real name. But, I’m not talking. You’ll just have to call her “Tiny” for now.

Tiny is one of those people who make others feel good. Just before her 99^th birthday, she waltzed to breakfast one morning and proclaimed that she felt like she was “60 years old again.” A friend laughed and said, “Oh Tiny, you do not!”  But I think she did…at least in her heart. Everyone loves Tiny. Life just seems better when you’re around her.

I learned not long ago that Tiny is an attorney. In fact, the story goes that she was the first woman in the state of Texas to be admitted to the State Bar. I’ve heard the story from many different people, so I assume the story is true. If it’s not, it should be.

I’m sure those who visit the retirement center and first meet Tiny must see just another aging human being, one that has a rather strange nickname for a lady. But I see much more. I’m a glass-is-half-full kind of guy, but Tiny puts me to shame. She’s a remarkable woman who makes others feel good about being alive.  

I hear an attitude in the business world these days that makes me rather nervous. It’s not really all that new, but I sense a crescendo in recent years. It’s the attitude that says, “We live in a mean world and if you want to succeed, you’ve got to be mean, too.” I can certainly understand why many feel this way. More and more folks are going after the same job these days. There’s so much competition. But is there a better way? Such an attitude may in fact lead to greater success, but it worries me that it embodies a certain extreme self-protection that may lead to something less desirable—gangrene of the heart and soul.

I don’t know Tiny well. In fact, I really can’t tell you many details of her life. But I have witnessed enough to be inspired. I see a person aggressive enough to reach her goals in life, yet gracious enough to serve others. And even when she speaks of herself, somehow, it always seems to be an encouragement to everyone around.  

Thanks Tiny for being an example. You’re my hero.