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“To be a champion, compete; to be a great champion, compete with the best; but to be the greatest champion, compete with yourself.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

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Powerful Inspirational true story...Never give up!

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Failure is a Wonderful Teacher - Steve Harvey (Speech)

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Failure is a Wonderful Teacher - Steve Harvey (Speech)

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Failure is a Wonderful Teacher |  Motivation For Times of Uncertainty

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"The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" (screenplay)

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"The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" (screenplay)

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"Noticed" - Short Story about High School Love (fun short)

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"The Last Job on Earth" (Animated Short)

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"The Last Job on Earth" (Animated Short)

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The last job on Earth: imagining a fully automated world

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I Look at the World by Langston Hughes (Poem)

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I Look at the World by Langston Hughes (Poem)

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I look at the world by Langston Hughes | Poetry Magazine

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"Learning to Love My Body: A Teenager's Story" (memoir)

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"Learning to Love My Body: A Teenager's Story" (memoir)

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Learning to Love My Body: A Teenager’s Story

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All I wanted to do was be accepted for who I was, flaws and all.

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Many Faces of a Woman by Steve Zabrocki (Image)

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Many Faces of a Woman by Steve Zabrocki (Image)

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Emily Jones (pen name Emilybob) has been named runner-up in the Observer/Cape/Comica graphic short story prize 2017. This is her entry

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CGI Animated Short Film: "Distracted" by Emile Jacques | CGMeetup

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"What Kind of Asian are You?" (spoken word poem)

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"What Kind of Asian are You?" (spoken word poem)

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"If You're So Wise, How Come You're Dead?" (graphic short story)

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"If You're So Wise, How Come You're Dead?" (graphic short story)

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Graphic short story: If You're So Wise, How Come You're Dead?

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Tor Freeman has been named winner in the Observer/Cape/Comica graphic short story prize 2017. This is her entry

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"When the Fat Girl Gets Skinny" (spoken word poem)

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"When the Fat Girl Gets Skinny" (spoken word poem)

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Blythe Baird - When the Fat Girl Gets Skinny

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The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert (Song)

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The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert (Song)

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“The House That Built Me” by Miranda Lambert | Lyrics

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A British soldier is trapped with a German enemy. Then they rediscover their humanity. | Pawns

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Hair Love | Oscar®-Winning Short Film (Full) | Sony Pictures Animation

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Hello, World! Award Winning Short Film (Shot on GH4)

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Dune (3/9) Movie CLIP - Fear Is the Mind Killer (1984) HD

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A World Where Nothing Changes (Short Story)

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A World Where Nothing Changes (Short Story)

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How do you make progress in a world that doesn't change? You don't. Every now and then, though, I catch myself thinking about what my life would be like in a different world; one where progress hasn't been declared an enemy of the people and locked away out of sight and - most people's - minds.

A world where I could change.

I am a terrible fisherman. I know this, my father knew this, everyone knows

this. I don't like water, I get seasick and I'm impatient. My market stall always has the thinnest offerings - unless the water had been uncharacteristically calm that day. Yet I am a fisherman by trade and will be one until the day I die. That's what it's like on the islands, where you are no more than what you were born to be.

Even the royals have no say in the matter.

For as long as we have known, a single family has ruled the people of our secluded, water-locked nation. Brother marries sister to keep the bloodline pure, and their offspring do the very same. There is, and has only ever been, one royal family; nobody new ever takes power. Nothing ever changes. Their only threat is the randomness of nature. A brother and sister have been known to produce only male or female heirs, which is a problem. Famously, a King and Queen of two-centuries past had eight sons. Their sons then had to be tasked with fathering a pair of siblings; a new King and Queen capable of carrying on the family line. A difficult task without a sister.

It was a worrisome time for our people, but with the help of aunts and nieces, the reign of the family continued. Insurance policies are always in place, of course; extra sons, daughters and cousins standing by to take up the mantle, should the current monarchs die or prove baron. It's all the same blood, after all.

It may sound strange, but the system works. We are an affluent nation. A nation of stability. A stability that comes from a foundation of knowing that we all have a part to play; that we all have our jobs to do. If we were to change that, if we were to inspire progress, that foundation would be ripped from beneath our feet, and we'd end up like the unstable nations ruled by an ever-changing roster of royals and military leaders on the mainland.

At least that is what the royals claim.

So when I was born to a fisherman, I was to be a fisherman. To take his place when he retired. To keep the wheel turning without ever going faster. While I'm not an only child, my brother could never take over from me. The older child takes the father's profession, the younger the mother's. No trades; no exceptions. If a child dies, you have another to replace them. You must have two children - replacements - but you must never have more than that. One child for one parent.

Sadly, my family briefly had three children. My mother fell pregnant by accident. They prayed and prayed that the baby would be needed elsewhere. Sometimes a mother or father will die, then their offspring will die before they can carry on the family profession and keep the economy in its fixed position. Other times, a man or women will not marry, and have no heir. While most are required to marry and sire by law, as the Gods would have it, there is not always a man for every woman.

So, those women pregnant with a third can offer the child as a replacement for whatever role is unfilled. But when my mother gave birth, there was an abundance of third children and an island of good health. My late sister was drowned before she turned one day old. The grief killed my father and since then I've filled his place within the world; replacing him in all that he was. Nobody is unique on the island, we all follow the same path as the one before us, and we all will be followed by a copy of ourselves.

People from beyond our island find this practice very unusual. Not least because women can be warriors while men can be childcarers. In the customs of the mainland, men and women have very specific roles to play. On the islands, anyone can and will be anything, just as long as their mother or father was that before them. They also think it strange our royals marry their own blood. They seem disgusted by the notion. It makes sense to most on the island, those who are happy without progress. And most are that, happy. People have work, people have money, and people have purpose. We stay safe, we stay stable and we don't go hungry. Visitors say we live on a knife edge, that one day it could all crumble. What if one man breaks rank; one ruler sees a new path?

They're right, of course, which is why they aren't allowed to visit often, and why nobody is allowed to break rank. Visitors are not only rare, but are never allowed to stay. We don't take newcomers to the island. To live here you must be born here. New additions would require new work, new lands, new wives or husbands. That would mean change.

But I had to move forward. I had to.

While others celebrated the life of their ruling class and scoffed at the foreigners for their unusual and seemingly reckless economic and social practices, I yearned to be part of their world. I hated what I did, yet I was trapped without hope nor chance of escape. For anything close to that, I'd need a wife, then a child, then old age. But none of that was on the horizon. The only thing that was on the horizon was the sight of fellow fishing boats as I bobbed across the warm waters, my head spinning, my stomach churning and a pool of vomit slowly floating away from my little one-man wooden vessel. Although I hated my little boat, I did sometimes consider it my last resort - I could just sail away. The punishment for abandoning you duties was worse than you might think, though. All my remaining family would be slaughtered, the gaps left behind would be filled by the servers, a group of people whose profession it was to fill in for those that couldn't work, be they ill, jailed, injured or dead, until a new draft of newborns could be trained and succeed our roles. There was no way to avoid your service to the island, not unless you wanted to pay a terrible price. Faking your death or getting 'lost at sea' was no promise of mercy from the royals either, and our current rulers, benevolent as they claimed to be, were more than ruthless enough to hang a family on unprovable charges.

Tormenting citizens was the only interesting thing they ever got to do.

I was doomed to a life I loathed in a world not meant for me, but then, as I floated along, trying to keep the contents of my stomach very much within my stomach, I was struck with an idea. For the first time in my life, I felt like I'd made progress.

My dream, since I was a boy, was to develop some form of magic. Most of those blessed, or cursed as islanders would say, were born with their gifts, yet on that rare occasion, some found it caught them later in life. Magic on the islands was seen as a dangerous thing. A force for change - a challenge to the ruling class. A threat to our fragile existence. An enemy that must be eliminated.

Those with magic were not killed like the unwanted children, however. Our rulers were too God fearing for that. But, they couldn't stay here. Magic wielders were shipped to capitals cities on the mainland, places where they were worshipped, not shunned. It was the only way off the island - that or to be an unwanted royal. Too many royals meant a need for more wealth in the monarchy, which meant a shift of wealth distribution across the whole island, which meant change. But you couldn't kill a royal either. Their blood may be needed. To save on costs, those on the furthest edges of the family were sent overseas too, although they didn't enjoy the same warm welcome as the magic wielders.

Yet I was not blessed with either royal or magic blood.

Magic was rare, very rare, and those that did possess it had very obvious gifts. You'd find either element-wielders, those that could conjure flames from mid-air or ice from stone, or see-ers, individuals granted visions of the future or distant lands. Both types of magic were easy to test and recognise, and seemingly impossible to fake. Or were they? Of course, there was no way I could feign a jet of fire spitting out of my fingertips, but, as my mind wandered over the horizon, letting more and more fish slip through my net, I wondered if I could work a plot cunning enough to appear as if I'd made a prophecy come to bare.

To me, it was all simple enough. So simple I spent days scolding myself for not thinking of it sooner. One happy result of being stranded at sea most of the day, with a desire to focus on anything other than the choppy waves, was that I had found methods of distracting my mind. Unlike many of my kin, I'd taught myself to read. When you were unable to stand for fear of falling over in a fit of dizziness and nausea, remaining clamped in the corner of your boat with a book was the most appealing option you had. As it turned out, reading was a powerful ally in the world of scheming. I could access knowledge that so few others knew existed. Our library was small but full of history, including plenty of scrolls and even the occasional book on two subjects I found most interesting: magical occurrences, and poisons.

The greatest prophecies, the ones that never failed to get the see-ers of the island banished, were always tragic in their end result. Death was a recurring theme, but should I claim to foresee the death of my neighbour and they turn up with a knife in their neck, suspicion might just overcome the royal's fear of magic. I had to be more subtle - and poison, I had discovered, was the most subtle killer of all. I'd read all about the vilest and vicious of poisons. Poisons that could kill with just a drop. Poisons that could kill without a sound or symptom. I had to face a very serious question though:

Was I a killer?

The answer, sadly, was an overwhelming cacophony of no's echoing inside my mind. I was desperate to leave my life behind, just not at the cost of another. But poison did not always have to kill people. Livestock was just as vulnerable, as were crops and food stores. But the whole thing had to be dramatic. It had to get people's attention if I were to bewitch the public, inspire hearsay and convince the royals I was a danger to their world. Happily, a few scrolls existed on the art of acting, left behind by a very learned old theatre performer.

So what did the scrolls say I needed for a good performance? A crowd. I chose my location wisely. A bustling market by the water's edge during a warm summer's day. People were out in droves. Then I had to make it believable. Candid recounts in the books and scrolls I'd read spoke of how see-ers gripped by powerful foresight would collapse into a heap, muttering inaudible words and contorting their bodies. Finally, I had to follow through. I had to carry on the performance to reel in my audience. The true see-ers would wake in a daze and utter words of prophecy, before becoming unnervingly energised and without recollection of the moments prior, instead, slowly coming to remember their vision over the next few minutes. And so, after a multitude of practices hidden away at home in the dead of night, I began.

A plague was coming, a monstrous plague, I believe my exact words were, before I snapped back to life. It's hard to know if I did a good job, but those crowding around me seemed alarmed and fearful, which I took to mean that I had followed the old performer's words well enough.

The acting was the hard part, making the prophecy come to fruition was far easier. Mashing up the glands of poisonous fish and mixing them weeds for added potency was challenging, not least because of the smell, but far less taxing than being a live performer. I concocted a deadly liquid to spread across the lower farmlands in the dead of night. By morning, the crops wilted and began to rot, the poison soaking into their roots and decimating everything it touched.

I was quite surprised by its effectiveness.

Not an hour after sunrise I was taken, strung by the wrists and spread across a wooden wrack, set before the royals. And with that, I achieved what nobody on the island had done for centuries. I progressed. I worked my way out of a hole I could not bare to exist within, and I was free.

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How do you make progress in a world that doesn't change? You don't. Every now and then, though, I catch myself thinking about what my life would be like in a different world; one where progress hasn't been declared an enemy of the people and locked away out of sight and - most people's - minds.

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Names/Nombres by Julia Alvarez (Short Story)

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Names/Nombres by Julia Alvarez (Short Story)

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When Friends Are "Like Family" by Deborah Tannen (Article)

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When Friends Are "Like Family" by Deborah Tannen (Article)

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The Pencil's Tale by Kori Sarian (Spoken Word)

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The Pencil's Tale by Kori Sarian (Spoken Word)

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The Pencil's Tale - a story that everyone should hear

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Touchscreen: Marshall "Soulful" Jones at TEDxMontreal

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Reverse Selfie: Social Media's Impact on Girls' Self-Esteem | Dove

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I buy a Mana Party T-shirt from AliExpress.

$9.99 free shipping via standard post.

Estimated arrival 14-31 working days.

Tracking unavailable via DSL. Asian size XXL.

I wear it as a dress with thigh-high vinyl boots

and fishnets. I post a picture to Instagram.

Am I navigating correctly? Tell me,

which stars were my ancestors looking at?

And which ones burnt the black of searching irises

and reflected something genuine back? I look to

Rihanna and Kim Kardashian shimmering in

Swarovski crystals. Make my eyes glow with seeing.

I am inhaling, long white clouds and I see

rivers of milk running toward orange oceans of

sunlit honey. Tell me, am I navigating correctly?

I want to spend my money on something bougie,

like custom-made pounamu hoop earrings. I want to

make them myself but my line doesn't trace back

to the beauties in the south making amulets

with elegant fingers. I go back into blackness,

I go back and fill in the gaps, searching through archives

of advertisements: Welcome to the Wonderland

of the South Pacific. Tiki bars, traffic-light cocktails &

paper umbrellas. Tell me, am I navigating correctly?

Steering through the storm drunk & wet-faced

waking up to the taste of hangover, a dry mouth, a strange bed,

shirt above my head is the flag fluttering over everything.

What were we celebrating? The 6th of February is the anniversary

of the greatest failed marriage this nation has ever seen.

In America, couples have divorce parties. We always arrive

fashionably late. Tell me, am I navigating correctly? The sea

our ancestors traversed stretches out farther than the stars.

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Identity Politics by Tayi Tibble | Poetry Magazine

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I buy a Mana Party T-shirt from AliExpress.

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The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman (Poem)

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The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman (Poem)

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"God of War Ragnarok" (video game trailer)

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"God of War Ragnarok" (video game trailer)

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God Of War Ragnarök - PlayStation Showcase 2021 Reveal Trailer | PS5 Games

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Antisocial Media: short fiction based on a true story

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Our lives, our cultures, are composed of many overlapping stories. Novelist Chimamanda Adichie tells the story of how she found her authentic cultural voice -- and warns that if we hear only a single story about another person or country, we risk a critical misunderstanding.

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The 2020 New York Life Super Bowl Commercial That Proves All You Need Is Love

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"Alice Cares: Can Robots Be Our Friends?" (documentary trailer)

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"Alice Cares: Can Robots Be Our Friends?" (documentary trailer)

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Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back - Dark Side Cave

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There Will Come Soft Rains by Ray Bradbury (Short Story)

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There Will Come Soft Rains by Ray Bradbury (Short Story)

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Pentecost | Oscar® Nominated short film about a boy who can't help but misbehave

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There's Some Good in this World... - The Two Towers (Movie Clip)

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There's Some Good in this World... - The Two Towers (Movie Clip)

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The text can be found in the description under the video, if you need it!

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LOTR The Two Towers - The Tales That Really Mattered...

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Original Removed Photographs made in the United States — REMOVED

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Removed is a photographic series that explores the way personal devices play a role in society, relationships, and the body. Artist Eric Pickersgill physically removes screens from the hands of his subjects. The resulting images cause the viewer to question their own relationship to technology. Remo

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Say My Name: How Idris Became Eddie, and Why It Matters

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The Best Man (4/10) Movie CLIP - Falling In Love (2005) HD

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"Hello, sir. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to return this alarm clock, please."

"What's wrong with it?"

"The alarm doesn't work."

"How do you mean?"

"The alarm makes no sound."

"Did you troubleshoot using the manual?"

"Yes."

"And it still didn't work?"

"No."

"Okay. Do you have the receipt?"

"No. I can't find it anywhere."

"Then I can't give you a refund."

"Oh no, you misunderstand. I don't want a refund. I just want to exchange it for one that works."

"Okay. Do you have the original packaging?"

"No. I threw it away."

"I can't do an exchange without the original packaging."

"It came in a plastic clamshell. I had to hack it open with a knife. I don't understand. Why do you need the packaging?"

"Our policy for all exchanges is that the product be returned in its original packaging."

"It was just a load of ripped up plastic. Why would I keep that?"

"In case you needed to return the item."

"I didn't think an alarm clock would break after a few weeks. So you're telling me you can't do anything to help?"

"To do anything I need some proof of purchase."

"I'm proof! I'm telling you now that I bought it here. In fact, I think you might have even served me."

"Did you register the product warranty number online?"

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Short Stories: The Exchange by Jon Langford

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"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" "I'd like to return this alarm clock, please." "What's wrong with it?" "The alarm doesn't work." "How do you mean?" "The alarm makes no sound." "Did you troubleshoot using the manual?" "Yes." "And it still didn't work?" "No." "Okay. Do you have the receipt?"

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Lyrics are included in the video if you want them.

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2nd Overall Age 14 Teen Advanced Open Solo Choreo: Shelby Martin Dolce Dance Studio Starpower San Mateo Keep the comments positive please! This channel features young dancers who are learning and improving everyday! :) Follow me on instagram and tumblr: @carmodance Send in your dance videos for YouTube!

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The Price of Progress by Francis Duggan (Poem)

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The Price of Progress by Francis Duggan (Poem)

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In the town where there are as many cars as people
On the main street the cars and trucks pass up and down all day
The factory chimneys keep billowing up dark gray smoke
And pollute the sky with smog a dusky gray.

With it industry always brings pollution
In the contamination of the waterways and air
Such is the price we have to pay for progress
To our Earth Mother we have not been fair.

Environmentalists claim that in our polluting of our environment
That we have only sped up climate change
And though many with that well may beg to differ
In any way such thinking is not strange.

Such is the price we have to pay for progress
Climate change and global warming has invaded every shore
We well may bring about our own extinction
Though Nature she will live forever more.

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Hi-Tech Wreck

R.U.D.I. starts to malfunction too much and ruins Spacely's presentation. George is ordered to relocate with his family to "Outer Moongolia". But Spacely brings the Jetsons back very quickly when R.U.D.I. threatens to destroy the factory if George doesn't return.

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R.U.D.I. starts to malfunction too much and ruins Spacely's presentation. George is ordered to relocate with his family to "Outer Moongolia". But Spacely brings the Jetsons back very quickly when R.U.D.I. threatens to destroy the factory if George doesn't return.

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I'll Never Give Up on You - Hellboy (Film Clip)

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I'll Never Give Up on You - Hellboy (Film Clip)

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Text Transcript (Because there is no CC)

Liz: Hi.

Hellboy: Hi.

Liz: I'll come to Moscow, if you're still going.

Hellboy: I am, but I have something to say. I understand what you don't like about me. I do. What I am makes you feel a little out of place.

Liz: Red, I don't....

Hellboy: Listen, I'm not like Myers. He makes you feel like you belong. Which is good, really. I wish I could do something about this, but I can't. I can promise you two things. One, I'll always look this good, and two, I'll never give up on you, ever.

Liz: I like that.

Hellboy: Good.

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Does My Son Know You? by Jonathan Tjarks (Article)

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Does My Son Know You? by Jonathan Tjarks (Article)

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Editor's note: On Saturday, Ringer senior staff writer Jonathan Tjarks passed away. You can find information about how to support Jonathan's family here.
Waiting for a PET scan is pretty boring. The nurse brings you down a long hallway with a bunch of rooms on each side. Each is just big enough to fit a chair and a sink. They all look the same except for the picture on the wall. I've seen a pond, a lake, and some mountains.

You walk into the room, sit down, and get injected with dye. Then you have to wait an hour for it to go through your bloodstream. There is absolutely nothing to do. The doctors want as little brain activity as possible in order to get a better scan. You put your phone in a locker and there's no TV. You can't even bring anything to read. If you are lucky, you get some sleep. Otherwise you are left alone with your thoughts.

I got scanned for the first time last April. That's when I found out I had cancer. I had been in and out of the hospital for two months. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong because what I had (a Ewing's-like sarcoma with a BCOR-CCNB3 rearrangement) is so rare. Sarcomas are small tumors found in the bones and connective tissues of the body. They represent about 1 percent of new cancer cases in the United States each year among adults, and BCOR is an even tinier part of that 1 percent. The odds of me getting it were about 25 million to 1. My wife and I ran into a doctor who is friends with her parents. He asked how it felt to get hit by lightning.

Sarcomas are one of the deadliest kinds of cancers. The five-year survival rates for adults with metastatic Ewing's sarcomas are between 15 percent and 30 percent. Metastatic means the tumors have already spread through the body by the time they are diagnosed. There were too many for the doctors to count on my first scan.

Cancer is much easier to treat when it hasn't spread beyond the primary tumor. You can get chemotherapy and radiation and remove whatever is left with surgery. That's not an option for me. The doctors don't even know which tumor was my primary. They will never be able to say that I'm "cancer free," because there could always be tiny sarcomas lurking somewhere in my body that the scans miss.

That's what happened after my first chemo regimen, which lasted about six months. All the tumors were gone at the end. There were only a few potential spots they would check on my next scan. But when I came back in two months, a series of new ones had popped up.

There are two main problems. The first is that the chemo has to kill every single cancer cell in my body. Leave even one behind and that one can turn into a million. The second is that the cells that survive become more resistant to the chemo. You can't use the same type of treatment again and expect the same results. So you have to try a different kind each time they return. One of my doctors compared it to trench warfare in World War I: You build multiple lines of defense so you can keep falling back when the first gets overrun. You just eventually run out of lines.

Being diagnosed with terminal cancer doesn't happen like it does in the movies. The doctors don't actually tell you how long you have to live. They can't predict the future. What they say is: What you have will kill you at some point. We just don't know when. It could be months. It could be years. It could be longer.

The only real hope they can offer is that someone might find a cure before it's too late. All they can do for now is keep me alive as long as they can.

That means a lot of chemo and a lot of scans. My current schedule is chemo every three weeks and scans every nine. The whole process of getting scanned takes about an hour and a half. One hour to sit in the tiny waiting room and another half-hour for the actual scan.

Like I said before, it leaves you with a lot of time to think. I usually end up thinking about my son.

His name is Jackson. He was born in late March 2020, the week after Rudy Gobert tested positive for COVID-19. He's now almost 2, which is a really fun age. We can communicate with him. He learns a new word almost every day.

He's obsessed with cars. He stomps around the house with a toy car in each hand and rolls them on any surface he can find. He cries when we drive off a busy street and he can no longer see cars driving past. Sometimes he will be in his high chair and just start saying "ooh da cays."

It makes sense when you think about it. Humans are hard-wired to fear snakes, spiders, and heights. Those things have been killing people since the beginning of time. Cars are still brand-new by comparison. Things that big and that fast shouldn't exist. We are just so used to them that we don't think about it anymore.

Jackson isn't used to anything. He sees a car and thinks it's the coolest thing he has ever seen in his life. One of his favorite phrases is "you see it?" He might say it 10 times a day. You never know what exactly you are supposed to be seeing. But apparently it's something.

Being a dad has been the greatest joy of my life. I was never someone who debated about whether or not to have a family. It's something that I had wanted ever since I was a kid. I wanted what I didn't have.

My dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease when I was 6. Most people know Parkinson's from Muhammad Ali or Michael J. Fox and the shaking they see. But that's only the beginning. Parkinson's gradually robs you of your ability to control your body. My dad went from needing a cane to walk to a back brace and then a walker and finally a wheelchair. Things really went south after he had open heart surgery. His body never recovered. He had to take so much medicine that it became hard to talk. He was there but he was no longer there.

I was 12. That's the age when your parents go from authority figures to actual people. That never happened for me and my dad. We never got to know each other. What did he like doing? What were his experiences growing up? What were his goals in life?

And there's the simpler stuff too. How do you tie a tie? Or grill a burger? Or fix a car?

I had to figure it all out on my own. Now it looks like my son might have to do the same. It was the one thing that I never wanted for him.

I remember my dad had a lot of tennis trophies in his office. I never saw him play, but I was told he was good. He was 6-foot-4 and had a big serve. But the trophy he was most proud of was the Courage Award that he got from his fitness club. It was for the toughness he showed in fighting Parkinson's.

He went to the club all the time before he got sick. It had tennis and racquetball courts, a swimming pool, and an outdoor track. It's where he made most of his friends.

Everyone was supportive at first. They brought us food, drove him places, and got him in and out of the car. But those visits slowly dried up over time. My dad kept getting sicker and could no longer do the things that had made them friends in the first place. People moved, or had kids, or got busy at work. Even the Christmas cards stopped coming. By the end, the only people who stopped by the house were nurses and health care workers.

My dad died when I was 21. There were a bunch of people at his funeral whom I hadn't seen in years. They all told me how sorry they were and asked whether there was anything they could do. All I could think was I don't know any of you. I know of you. I've heard your names. But I don't know you.

The lie that society tells us is that our friends can be our family. That's the premise of TV shows like Friends, Seinfeld, and How I Met Your Mother. We can all leave our hometowns behind and have exciting adventures in the big city with people that we meet. And those people will love us and take care of us and be there for us.

But life is more like what happened to the actual actors on Friends. Their TV reunion was the first time all six had been together in years. They still cared about each other to a degree, but they had grown apart. They were living in different cities and working different jobs and had a million different things happen to them that they didn't share as a group. It couldn't be the same as it was when they were all single and working on the same TV set.

Americans tend to put our careers first and move around the country. That's what my parents did. My dad was from Nebraska. My mom is from the Philippines. I grew up in Dallas. That's a long way from their families (although one of my mom's sisters ended up moving here). My parents tried to form a community where they lived, but they didn't really have one. Not one that lasted.

I was nervous the first time I went to a life group. I'd joined a church the week before and one of the pastors, a guy a few years older than me, invited me. It was a smaller group of people who met at his house every week.

I remember walking up to the door and not knowing what to expect on the other side. There were about a dozen people in the living room talking to each other. I didn't know any of them besides the pastor-and I barely knew him. I didn't know what to do, so I did what most people would do: I headed over to the table with snacks.

Eventually the chatter died down and everyone sat in a circle in the living room. They all introduced themselves with an icebreaker. Something about their favorite TV show or their favorite snack. I was thinking, either I'm supposed to say I'm an alcoholic or this is a cult.

But nothing that exciting happened. They sang a few songs and then talked about the Bible for a while. At the end of the meeting, everyone paired off to pray for each other and the pastor asked me what I thought of the group. Then he asked if I would come back. I said I guess, but I wasn't sure.

That was seven years ago. Some of those strangers from the house that first night are now some of my closest friends. It didn't happen overnight. It took me a long time to feel comfortable. I usually came after the life group had already started and left as soon as it was over.

But I was seeing the same people every week and I was telling them about my problems and they were telling me about theirs. Do that for long enough and you become friends. You get to know enough people that way and life group goes from being an obligation to something you look forward to.

Making the commitment to come every week is still hard. There are always other things to do. Sometimes you are tired or you had a long day or you just don't feel like it. It gets even harder once you get married and have kids.

Nor are the people always easy to deal with. You may not have a lot in common. You have to search for things to talk about. You can be vulnerable with people and they don't always respond how you would expect. And you certainly won't always agree with them on how they see the world.

The past two years haven't been easy. Our life group met over Zoom for a while. People ask me whether I have to be more careful because of my condition and the pandemic. But it's really the opposite. I don't have the luxury of waiting for life to get back to normal. This might be the only time that I have.

I can't imagine not being in a life group at this point. Human beings aren't supposed to go through life as faces in a crowd. It's like the song from Cheers. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.

Life group is a different kind of insurance. People talk a lot about medical insurance and life insurance when you get sick. But relational insurance is far more important. I didn't need my dad's money, but I could have used some of his friends.

I wish I could say that getting diagnosed with cancer has brought me closer to God. That my faith is stronger than ever before and that it has comforted me through these tough times. I have read plenty of stories like that. But that's not really how it has worked for me.

I want to believe in a miracle. There have been people with stage IV sarcomas whose tumors never came back. No one knows why. Some things are still beyond the knowledge of medical science. I asked my doctor if I could be one of those people. He replied, "I am not the one who decides those things."

I believe in a God who does. But I also know that He has chosen not to heal me. At least not yet. And that hurts.

The only thing I can say is that there was never a promise that it would be any other way. I think about Terrence Clarke sometimes when I start to feel sorry for myself. He was a Kentucky basketball player who died in a car accident the same week I was diagnosed with cancer. He was coming from a workout. He would have been drafted in a few months.

There's a Bible passage from Jesus's brother that comes to mind: "Now listen, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.' Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." (James 4:13-16)

So where does that leave us, the little mists?

There are some things from the Bible that I have been leaning on over the past year:

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this. To look after orphans and widows in their distress." -James 1:27

"Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow." -Isaiah 1:17

"You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child." -Exodus 22:22

There are hundreds of verses like that. I have already told some of my friends: When I see you in heaven, there's only one thing I'm going to ask-Were you good to my son and my wife? Were you there for them? Does my son know you?

I don't want Jackson to have the same childhood that I did. I want him to wonder why his dad's friends always come over and shoot hoops with him. Why they always invite him to their houses. Why there are so many of them at his games. I hope that he gets sick of them.

One thing I have learned from this experience is that you can't worry about things that you can't control. I can't control what will happen to me. I don't know how long I will be there for my son. All I can do is make the most of the time that I have left. That means investing in other people so they can be there for him.

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Fatherhood, cancer, and what matters most

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The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper (Picture Book)

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The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper (Picture Book)

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"Somewhere There is a Poem" (spoken word poem)

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"Somewhere There is a Poem" (spoken word poem)

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These are the players - with or without a scorecard. In one corner a machine; in the other, one Wallace V. Whipple, man. And the game? It happens to be the historical battle between flesh and steel, between the brain of man and the product of man's brain. We don't make book on this one and predict no winner....but we can tell you for this particular contest, there is standing room only -

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The Twilight Zone 1959 153 The Brain Center at Whipple's

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These are the players - with or without a scorecard. In one corner a machine; in the other, one Wallace V. Whipple, man. And the game? It happens to be the historical battle between flesh and steel, between the brain of man and the product of man's brain.

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The Price of Progress by Adam Jenkins (Spoken Word)

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The Price of Progress by Adam Jenkins (Spoken Word)

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This is about an area of Cardiff in Wales that is being "redeveloped," but what is the cost of that decision?

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The Price Of Progress #SaveWomanbyStreet

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Too Quick To Judge (Touching Short-Film)

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"A Long December" by Counting Crows (song)

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"A Long December" by Counting Crows (song)

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Counting Crows - A Long December (Lyrics)

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A phone company telling us to use our phones less? That's ironic, don't ya think? (US Cellular Ad)

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A phone company telling us to use our phones less? That's ironic, don't ya think? (US Cellular Ad)

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UScellular: Ironic Tv Commercial Ad July 2024 USA