Autumn comes to New England, September, 2011. And we are glad of it.

Posted on September 21, 2011

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By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. Our first travelers to Massachusetts arrived at Plymouth just in time for Winter, too late for Autumn, specifically trodding on terra firma, December 26, 1620… and were they ever irritated, taking the opportunity to lambast the luckless captain who delivered them so late after a most disagreeable voyage, my dear, anxious for something new and exciting, but not (so they all later agreed) so new and exciting as the standard walloping, punishing New England Winter they came to know so well.
And so the mystique of Autumn, as something worth having and decidedly superior to what follows, was planted at once… and has never waned. And for good reason.
Autumn in New England is not merely a season. It is a mood, evocative, sacerdotal, an essential experience for the sensitive and anyone with the soul of a poet. It is a season that forces us to deal with transition, decay, transient beauty, and history scattered around and through the hamlets, towns, and occasional city. Indeed there is a feeling, never shared with outsiders and casual visitors, that each and every citizen of New England is merely history that hasn’t quite happened yet. History in New England is not merely vestiges of things past; it is present reality, no ghost, but events of long ago, our neighbors still, as fresh today as at inception. This view of ancestors puzzles casual travelers who have no ancestors. They come from places without History… and are, of course, of no consequence whatever. They naturally take umbrage and as many pictures of dying foliage as the traffic allows. We are glad to see the back of them.
States that more (or less) make up New England.
It is well known to even the least educated that New England is comprised of six states: Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, and Connecticut. The least educated, however, know nothing more than that and are not, therefore, in a position to inform you of sundry facts which if left untold to you will create problems for life and submerge your social standing. Here are the facts:
* Massachusetts is the largest New England state and offers a dizzying array of important events, people, ideas, institutions, etc. I don’t have either the time or inclination to share these significant details… for that you must visit any one of our dwindling number of bookstores and buy something. We need the money.
Autumn in Massachusetts is most about students arriving at pluperfect academies and institutions of higher learning graced by Corinthian columns and departments of humanities beset by troubles and the budget axe at every side. Such institutions attract the brightest students of the world. Sadly, even these are less educated than their parents, though they pay substantially more for what no one anymore considers a “good” education. Future students enrolled in such places in what is known as the Bay State will come for only a few weeks or even a few days, the prime objective being to say they “went” to (whatever institution they may claim) and to have their pictures taken in front of those venerable columns. Of course, it goes without saying that tuition and fees will not decline; rather the reverse. You will remember: we need the money.
Rhode Island, minute state, longest name.
Rhode Island, the littlest state, suffers from an indelible inferiority complex which has produced in once nick-named “Little Rhody” the insistent temerity of the “mouse that roared.” Rhode Islanders take no guff, and with that chip on the shoulder, defy you to knock it off. Even the boldest think twice before they try…
Rhode Island and Providence Plantations was founded by zealous brethen who grew appalled and aggravated with the sanctimonies and regulations of their former colleagues in Massachusetts and walked to a new destiny, one in which their truth was The Truth. So busy with the business of God, they had no time for the wistful vistas and God-delivered splendors of Autumn.
In due course, after their relationship with God was well and truly cemented and its manifestations — money — began to pour in… Rhode Islanders of means (and there were many) had no time for Autumn… they were busily spending their millions on sad copies of European culture and so nicking their fortunes and ensuring the sniggers of more enlightened, less respectful generations.
Later, in recent years, Rhode Islanders still had no time for Autumn. Gambling, lurid sex, and corrupt politics held sway… and to those who indulged the only season that mattered was the season in which their nocturnal activities waxed.
As a result of all these episodes Rhode Island came to know nothing at all of Autumn… something the more enlightened amongst them should regret, but probably do not.
New Hampshire.
There was no “Massachusetts” in the Old Country; there was no “Rhode Island.” But there was a peaceful place, a verdant place… called Hampshire. It is no wonder new citizens of the new land wished to memorialize it and pass a nostalgic hour reliving the place they would always remember as “home.” Such a place is a good place to see and to reflect upon the verities of Autumn, its beauty, its sadness that such beauty must be fleeting.
Go, then, to New Hampshire where their by-word is “Live free, or die.” It is a silly motto and would be better rendered “Live free, or fight,” something feisty, bold, gutsy, uplifting. But at least the folks in New Hampshire mean well, though that isn’t always enough. After all, at a time of fiscal austerity, they have wasted millions promoting that foolish motto of theirs.
Vermont.
Now we come to the Holy of Autumnal Holies, a place as sanctified and revered as Delphi. It’s everything that every Sunday travel supplement says it is… villages rendered and revered by Currier and Ives, places so quaint and tidy you are sure they are imaginary. I confess. I love Vermont in Autumn, and so that is when I scheduled my classes at the University of Vermont. One bows low before such a riot of glorious colors and swiftly dying verdure. Still, I have a pet concern… Vermont is not a name of Old England; rather it is a name of Ancien France, for Vermont (“Green mountain”) was an outpost of the Bourbons and reminds us they dreamed imperially, too, if less successfully than England. Perhaps locals kept the name which concerns me because it was tangible evidence that they had pulverized those Frenchies… even to the extent of annexing these words from their language for eternity… an insult to the people most conscious of the outrage of insult. En garde!
Maine… Connecticut.
As far as Autumn in New England is concerned, after the “in your face” exuberance of Vermont, the rest is dross. Maine, after all, was just a hunk of Massachusetts ripped off the Commonwealth in 1820 and established as a “free state,” to balance the “slave state” of Missouri then entering the Union. But we canny folk of Massachusetts are glad; Mainers are poor and exigent. They really need the money.
And as for Connecticut, the less said the better. Connecticut looks today as it has looked for eons south to New York and Pennsylvania. The folks in Hartford and environs condescend to the rest of New England. We hate them cordially and have made sure to sell them everything we can at inflated prices. You see, they have the money.
At the end…
Now you know about Autumn in New England. Book your tickets at once. Bring the family; the more the merrier. And, remember, bring all your credit cards and instruments of credit. Keep in mind at all times, we need the money.
Oh, and by the way, should you like a little light music to accompany this article, I recommend Edith Piaf singing “Autumn Leaves”, in both Johnny Mercer’s English and Jacquec Prevert’s French. It is superbe. You’ll find it in any search engine. Do it now before the falling leaves have all drifted past your window…
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About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com . Check out Massive Traffic Ultimatum ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=sk9BRJWy

An urgent message for all those in their first job… what to do to move up fast… even in troubled economic times.

Posted on September 19, 2011

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An urgent message for all those in their first job… what to do to move up fast… even in troubled economic times. September 19, 2011
 
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. Everyone remembers their first job with, perhaps, a bit of nostalgia and a soupcon of fondness, after the fact. But did you really know what you were doing… and, more to the point, leverage that job and rise high — even in a period of economic dislocations, miseries, and muddles?
Perhaps because of these depressing realities, you had to take a job, any job, just to pay the rent. In such a situation you may have felt chagrined (to say no more) that you didn’t have the job of your dreams and were not sky rocketing to fame, fortune, and the cover of Time magazine. Whoa… bad analysis, worse attitude. YOU need this article desperately.
My favorite nephew Kyle is in this boat. He’s a bright lad, a newly minted honors graduate from a well-regarded California institution of higher education… marooned by the seemingly unending recession and its never quite better aftermath. He couldn’t find a job in his field, and so with prodding and exhortation (and a great deal of it) took the first job that was to hand, working in the vegetable department at Kroger.
Don’t laugh. And don’t go all arrogant and condescending either.
Is he disappointed? Yes! Irked? Let-down? Oh, yes, but that was before his wily Uncle Jeffrey picked up the phone for some down-home success tips. Now, Kyle is the “maniac on the floor”, primed for greatness and the executive suite. And so I selected one of the most exhilarating songs of the 80?s to accompany this article; “Maniac on the floor” from the film “Flashdance” (1983), belted out of the park by diva Irene Cara. Whatever despairing depths you are plumbing today, this red-hot dance tune will lift you and lift you higher.
Serendipity.
The gods of corporate Olympus move in mysterious ways… and so it was with Kyle, Kroger, and me, for I made my first stock investment into Kroger when I was 13 or 14 back in the ’50?s. The reason was one stock maven Peter Lynch of Fidelity Investments would applaud: because we shopped there. I didn’t have so many shares to start with, but I visited Kroger as often as the family wished to eat… and I could see how my biggest (my only) investment was faring. Even then I took a very proprietary interest in “my” Kroger. I even recall picking up some soiled lettuce off the floor and properly disposing of it. It was a portent… but of what? It took the better part of a lifetime to discern, but Kyle’s launching pad in the lettuce department seems to be the link.
Introduction to The Kroger Co. (NYSE: KR)
Kroger, as you may well know, is the country’s largest grocery store chain and its second-largest grocery retailer by volume and second-place general retailer, Walmart being the largest. As of 2010, Kroger operated, either directly or through its subsidiaries, 3,619 stores. It reported US$ 82.2 billion in sales during fiscal year 2010, with 338,000 employees, including Nephew Kyle, right there at the bottom, on the first rung of the ladder of success, nowhere to go but up. Lucky boy.
Why so?
Kyle is a business “virgin.” He knows as little about business as is possible. This can be either a very good or a very bad thing, depending on what happens next. Kyle, for instance, has no bad business practices to unlearn and overcome; he has no such business practices at all. Thus he starts with a “tabula rasa”, a clean slate, in the immortal phrase of monumental 18th century savant John Locke.
Kyle has two options: fill this slate with one bad, progress-destroying habit after another, or knuckle down and learn the crucial things to turn a pedestrian entry-level job into a launching pad for lifetime success.
It ALL starts with attitude.
Kyle, unless your department at Kroger is a little bit of heaven, your supervisor’s biggest problem is personnel. They will demonstrate and perfect every sin venal and cardinal. They will specialize in complaining, their moans and groans elevated to stratospheric heights. Rather than get on with the job for which they were hired, they will conspire to cheat, chisel, and connive, liberally biting the hand that feeds them, gratitude and service towards the company inconceivable notions getting lip service and nothing more.
This being the case, an employee, any employee no matter how junior and inexperienced , who actually works up to their full potential, understanding that they work for Kroger, goes on the supervisor’s Christmas card list at once, with kudos, compliments, and useful perqs galore.
Now hear this: you have been gifted with every advantage. The one you most need at present is the right attitude. You are now a Kroger man. You are now a part, albeit on the first step, of a large, growing, proud establishment. Act like it!
For openers, let your supervisor know, best by superior work ethics and results, that you are a grateful, loyal and enthusiastic member of the Kroger team, a team which has grown steadily larger and more lucrative since in 1883 Bernard Kroger nailed his colors to the mast, “Be particular. Never sell anything you would not want yourself.”
* Look the part. Spruce yourself up, exemplifying everything you learned as an Eagle Scout. Wear the insignia of this achievement. It will show your new colleagues what kind of fellow you are and suggests you have what they want.
* Read everything you can about Kroger, including their annual report and the plethora of useful documents you’ll easily find at their website. Print these documents. Study them. Make yourself thoroughly conversant with the facts. You will also find a thorough report at the Wikipedia. Put your copies in a folder and carry them with you; make sure your supervisor sees you studying them at your breaks. Believe me, you’ll be the ONLY one showing such initiative.
* Always be on time; that goes without saying. Inform your supervisor that you are willing to take extra hours if others in the department cancel shifts. Let the supervisor know that your first loyalty is to the company, its customers, and what Kroger values: one grocery innovation after another. Kroger people are proud of what they’ve done to feed America and feed America well.. You must know these achievements and swell their pride.
* Have a good, solid, professional relationship with your supervisor, but never be a brown nosing apple polisher. Your job is to help your supervisor run the complicated store with its thousands of products in which you now work. At all times be polite, respectful, professional. You are not his buddy and pal, you are something far more valuable, a colleague who assists him rise… and whom he values accordingly.
* When you see a good deed, tell the supervisor; also, tell the person you have told the supervisor. One of the most important things you will ever do in business is to recognize employee achievements and, by a timely word in the ear of someone more advanced in the hierarchy, help that person secure the many emoluments which business can and does offer.
Two more things.
I know of your great interest in the ecology “green” movement. That is fine. In this connection I advise you to broaden your understanding of what it is and should be. Remember. the most important animal you can help save and preserve is the human animal, and here what you do could be of the greatest importance. Study Kroger and its ecological endeavors; make it a point, when possible, to seek out the food chemists and others who are helping us all live better lives with more nutritious and safer foods.
And, remember, even if you do not stay at Kroger, every word in this message remains germane since you will require good references to move up… and this is how you get them.
Now….. become the maniac on the floor, your presence and good work everywhere apparent, noticed with approval and approbation by the Kroger executives who see in you themselves and wish to advance you accordingly. And remember…
“You work all your life for that moment in time It can come or pass you by…”
And for you that moment is now.
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About The Author
Howard Martell serious inquires only 757=962-2482
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com Check out Chris Mentor Me ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=ld8pbXWE

An appreciation of Holly Hickler, master teacher, poet, her love affair with words, dead at 88.

Posted on September 20, 2011

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An appreciation of Holly Hickler, master teacher, poet, her love affair with words, dead at 88.

September 20, 2011 | Author: Jeffrey Lant | Posted in Dr. Jeffrey Lant’s Article Archive

Holly Hickler

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. This is a story about words and a woman who understood the power of words properly used to motivate adolescents, some of the toughest customers on earth. It is the story of Holly Hickler, proud to be a teacher, exhilarated by the challenges of her profession, a model to the less committed, who are legion.
Words, words, and ocean of words.
If you are a word person (as I confess I am) you will be sad upon reading this article that you never knew Holly Hickler. The minute I read her obituary in The Boston Globe (July 31, 2011), I was so saddened… I wanted to know her… and I wanted the world to know her, too. Words, you see, even words in an obituary, can make you feel so; words can do anything, convey anything, rouse anything, exult anything, change anything, remove anything, love anything, revolt anything…
… but you must know the words, have them not just in your head, but in your fingertips; words must be your constant companions. They must intrigue you, mystify you, bring you to your knees with grief, carry your prayers to God, and then, doubling back, conjure love from indifference… then ask your too late mate when she will be home for dinner.
Holly Hickler loved words, every word; she loved the sound of them, the textures, the complicated words and the simple words which proved upon reflection to be the most complicated of all: heaven, love, death, God, forever.
Mischievous, this mother could with laughter and purpose confound her children by reciting at any time or place a sprig of Frost on an autumn day:
“”Summer was past and the day was past. Sombre clouds in the west were massed. Out on the porch’s sagging floor Leaves got up in a coil and hissed….”
( from “Bereft” by Robert Frost, 1874-1963)
Or this written by Gerard Manly Hopkins (1844-1889) in 1877, but not published until 1918.
“GLORY be to God for dappled things — For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow: For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings:…”
( from the poem “Pied Beauty”).
Poems like these, even simple seeming Frost, are hard to read… harder to understand… and that would have suited Mrs. Hickler just fine. Such words, in such order, forced the surly, withdrawn, moody, often aggravating adolescents (either school delivered or borne by her) to stop, read the words clearly, sharply, for words must be heard; then look up the definitions… recite them again with greater clarity both of recitation and of meaning… then again and again, transforming brain cells into repositories of words, to be yours forever, shared only when you wish to touch a human heart or uplift, if only for a minute, some weary passerby in need of the comfort of the right word right delivered.
Her life.
Born Helen, in Philadelphia, her mother, Jean Miller Schloss, was fashion coordinator for Gimbels Department Store, and her father Edwin Schloss, a cellist who played chamber music with members of the Philadelphia Orchestra. It was a home of culture, the arts, and of sensitivities to music… literature… and, always, to words.
After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania in 1945 with a major in English, she worked on women’s magazines and publishing for a time and interviewed authors on television in New York City. Unfortunately (and tellingly) her greatest achievement in these years was not the stunning prose she wrote and published (for she did neither), but rather the fact she survived the crash of a B-25 aircraft which plunged into the Empire State Building in July, 1945 while she was working. But she survived…
In 1946, she married Courtland Yardley White III, her former writing professor. They had twins, Peter and Kate. Mr. White died of tuberculosis in January, 1950. That September she married Frederick Dunlap Hickler, an architect. They had three children. When their oldest child left for college, Mrs. Hickler started teaching at the progressive Cambridge School of Weston, Massachusetts. Here her vocation for teaching became evident to all.
Sympathetic, loving, strict standards.
Unwary students often misread Mrs. Hickler’s educational approach, to their peril. She was kind, empathetic, even loving towards her students, but this did not mean any diminution of the high standards she expected students to meet. As Bonny Musinsky, a fellow teacher at the school for 17 years, said, “when it comes to grading, she was no push-over. If they didn’t measure up — with all her love and caring — she would give them a C.”
The writer’s eye.
Writers are a probing, observant, perceptive, invasive kind of people. They never merely glance and are the masters of minute detail and of actually seeing a thing. No one can write effective prose without these skills. Mrs. Hickler made it a point to foster this ability which she used to good effect in her 1981 book co-authored with Cambridge psychiatrist John Mack. It was titled “Vivienne: The Life and Suicide of an Adolescent Girl”, and focused on the impersonal attitude of teachers in meeting the needs of teen-agers. No one ever accused Mrs. Hickler of such misunderstanding and dereliction and that is why she was such an effective, impacting, and always memorable instructor.
Writer’s block.
I can guess, but cannot confirm, that one of the great sadnesses of this productive life was her own difficulties with writing words and slender published oeuvre. It must have been maddening, discouraging, irritating at the very least. So much so, that at age 75 she took a class to overcome writer’s block. In due course, she wrote again. It was prose remembers Deborah Carr of Wellesley, a member of the group, about her “youth in an artsy, intellectual family in Philadelphia which she told in a voice that sounded as young as Holly was at heart.” Unfortunately, it was not published… but this article, which will be read by thousands, will help keep green the memory of Holly Hickler, and her message that words matter, good writing matters, and that both are essential in the complicated business of human communication.
Infuriatingly, this is something far too many school districts have not grasped, which is one reason SAT reading scores have sunk to a record low with the class of 2011. In this connection, Wayne Camara, College Board vice president of research, mused, “We’re looking and wondering if more efforts in English and reading and writing would benefit students.”
Having read this article, just what do you think Holly Hickler’s resounding response would have been? Or what yours should be, now that she has gone?
Then go to any search engine to find the recording by the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia of Tshaikovsky’s Variations on a Roccoco Theme. Holly would have loved it…. and so will you.
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About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com . Check out Massive Traffic Ultimatum ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=sk9BRJWy

Autumn comes to New England, September, 2011. And we are glad of it.

Posted on September 21, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. Our first travelers to Massachusetts arrived at Plymouth just in time for Winter, too late for Autumn, specifically trodding on terra firma, December 26, 1620… and were they ever irritated, taking the opportunity to lambast the luckless captain who delivered them so late after a most disagreeable voyage, my dear, anxious for something new and exciting, but not (so they all later agreed) so new and exciting as the standard walloping, punishing New England Winter they came to know so well.
And so the mystique of Autumn, as something worth having and decidedly superior to what follows, was planted at once… and has never waned. And for good reason.
Autumn in New England is not merely a season. It is a mood, evocative, sacerdotal, an essential experience for the sensitive and anyone with the soul of a poet. It is a season that forces us to deal with transition, decay, transient beauty, and history scattered around and through the hamlets, towns, and occasional city. Indeed there is a feeling, never shared with outsiders and casual visitors, that each and every citizen of New England is merely history that hasn’t quite happened yet. History in New England is not merely vestiges of things past; it is present reality, no ghost, but events of long ago, our neighbors still, as fresh today as at inception. This view of ancestors puzzles casual travelers who have no ancestors. They come from places without History… and are, of course, of no consequence whatever. They naturally take umbrage and as many pictures of dying foliage as the traffic allows. We are glad to see the back of them.
States that more (or less) make up New England.
It is well known to even the least educated that New England is comprised of six states: Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, and Connecticut. The least educated, however, know nothing more than that and are not, therefore, in a position to inform you of sundry facts which if left untold to you will create problems for life and submerge your social standing. Here are the facts:
* Massachusetts is the largest New England state and offers a dizzying array of important events, people, ideas, institutions, etc. I don’t have either the time or inclination to share these significant details… for that you must visit any one of our dwindling number of bookstores and buy something. We need the money.
Autumn in Massachusetts is most about students arriving at pluperfect academies and institutions of higher learning graced by Corinthian columns and departments of humanities beset by troubles and the budget axe at every side. Such institutions attract the brightest students of the world. Sadly, even these are less educated than their parents, though they pay substantially more for what no one anymore considers a “good” education. Future students enrolled in such places in what is known as the Bay State will come for only a few weeks or even a few days, the prime objective being to say they “went” to (whatever institution they may claim) and to have their pictures taken in front of those venerable columns. Of course, it goes without saying that tuition and fees will not decline; rather the reverse. You will remember: we need the money.
Rhode Island, minute state, longest name.
Rhode Island, the littlest state, suffers from an indelible inferiority complex which has produced in once nick-named “Little Rhody” the insistent temerity of the “mouse that roared.” Rhode Islanders take no guff, and with that chip on the shoulder, defy you to knock it off. Even the boldest think twice before they try…
Rhode Island and Providence Plantations was founded by zealous brethen who grew appalled and aggravated with the sanctimonies and regulations of their former colleagues in Massachusetts and walked to a new destiny, one in which their truth was The Truth. So busy with the business of God, they had no time for the wistful vistas and God-delivered splendors of Autumn.
In due course, after their relationship with God was well and truly cemented and its manifestations — money — began to pour in… Rhode Islanders of means (and there were many) had no time for Autumn… they were busily spending their millions on sad copies of European culture and so nicking their fortunes and ensuring the sniggers of more enlightened, less respectful generations.
Later, in recent years, Rhode Islanders still had no time for Autumn. Gambling, lurid sex, and corrupt politics held sway… and to those who indulged the only season that mattered was the season in which their nocturnal activities waxed.
As a result of all these episodes Rhode Island came to know nothing at all of Autumn… something the more enlightened amongst them should regret, but probably do not.
New Hampshire.
There was no “Massachusetts” in the Old Country; there was no “Rhode Island.” But there was a peaceful place, a verdant place… called Hampshire. It is no wonder new citizens of the new land wished to memorialize it and pass a nostalgic hour reliving the place they would always remember as “home.” Such a place is a good place to see and to reflect upon the verities of Autumn, its beauty, its sadness that such beauty must be fleeting.
Go, then, to New Hampshire where their by-word is “Live free, or die.” It is a silly motto and would be better rendered “Live free, or fight,” something feisty, bold, gutsy, uplifting. But at least the folks in New Hampshire mean well, though that isn’t always enough. After all, at a time of fiscal austerity, they have wasted millions promoting that foolish motto of theirs.
Vermont.
Now we come to the Holy of Autumnal Holies, a place as sanctified and revered as Delphi. It’s everything that every Sunday travel supplement says it is… villages rendered and revered by Currier and Ives, places so quaint and tidy you are sure they are imaginary. I confess. I love Vermont in Autumn, and so that is when I scheduled my classes at the University of Vermont. One bows low before such a riot of glorious colors and swiftly dying verdure. Still, I have a pet concern… Vermont is not a name of Old England; rather it is a name of Ancien France, for Vermont (“Green mountain”) was an outpost of the Bourbons and reminds us they dreamed imperially, too, if less successfully than England. Perhaps locals kept the name which concerns me because it was tangible evidence that they had pulverized those Frenchies… even to the extent of annexing these words from their language for eternity… an insult to the people most conscious of the outrage of insult. En garde!
Maine… Connecticut.
As far as Autumn in New England is concerned, after the “in your face” exuberance of Vermont, the rest is dross. Maine, after all, was just a hunk of Massachusetts ripped off the Commonwealth in 1820 and established as a “free state,” to balance the “slave state” of Missouri then entering the Union. But we canny folk of Massachusetts are glad; Mainers are poor and exigent. They really need the money.
And as for Connecticut, the less said the better. Connecticut looks today as it has looked for eons south to New York and Pennsylvania. The folks in Hartford and environs condescend to the rest of New England. We hate them cordially and have made sure to sell them everything we can at inflated prices. You see, they have the money.
At the end…
Now you know about Autumn in New England. Book your tickets at once. Bring the family; the more the merrier. And, remember, bring all your credit cards and instruments of credit. Keep in mind at all times, we need the money.
Oh, and by the way, should you like a little light music to accompany this article, I recommend Edith Piaf singing “Autumn Leaves”, in both Johnny Mercer’s English and Jacquec Prevert’s French. It is superbe. You’ll find it in any search engine. Do it now before the falling leaves have all drifted past your window…
* * * * *
About The Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com . Check out Massive Traffic Ultimatum ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=sk9BRJWy

Upon the occasion of the 70th birthday of my dear friend, Professor Robert Dobson, on having and being a friend.

Posted on September 18, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. Because I remember that you are, genetically at least, some substantial fraction Hungarian, I have chosen Franz Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2? (published 1851) to accompany this article. Stirring isn’t it…. and also just a tad bombastic? Your ancestors in Buda or Pest no doubt enjoyed it… and I hope you will, too.
You were right….. again.
You told me I would forget the date… and I did. I could claim “pressure of work”, but we both know better. I could claim that I’m casual, even oblivious, to dates of anniversaries, birthdays, and such like, so unlike you with your mania for such accurate data.
In extremis I could say that my dyslexia (so useful at such times) so manifests itself. But we both know, you who know me so well, that that is so much balderdash… and so, despite a gentle reminder, I did, after all, forget.
Fortunately I am beyond the time in life when I think infallibility not only important but essential. I feel no resentment or even necessity to defend the indefensible, and can own up to inadequacy.
The plain truth is I missed your 70th birthday… and I mean to make up for it here and now.
Hungary.
You probably know, though I think I have never said, I have a particular interest in things Hungarian. I love tokay (you will remember the occasion I forced you to buy a good vintage)… I can quote the details concerning Hungary’s elevation to constitutional equity with Austria, so creating the Dual Monarchy (1867). (You cannot).
And of course I remain committed to a Habsburg restoration and to the renewal of the Kingdom of Hungary. That is why I am so punctilious about gathering the artifacts of the dynasty, including the signed photographs of his last Hungarian majesty, King Karol. I suspect, though I do not pry into a man’s unlikely obsessions, that you harbor such a commitment, too. If so, you have remained admirably and completely discrete, as you are about so many matters.
Books.
I went looking this morning at about 5 a.m. for an excellent book I possess on the history of the twin cities which became in due course Budapest. You would like this book, too, which is why I shall never lend it to you, though your acute organizational skills may defeat my objective… for, as usual, when you visit you will (you cannot help yourself) arrange and re-arrange titles I have thrown together helter-skelter. That affronts your abiding need for order, proper arrangement, and perfect clarity. I would like these traits, too, but I fear I cannot rise to them… and so the book I would like to find today… you will certainly find tomorrow. It may well migrate then with you to Connecticut and another fate, for you are tenacious of books.
More books.
One of the enduring links we share is the love of books. It has enabled us to spend companionable hours with maximum pleasure and communion but minimum words. Remember, if you will, the places in which we have indulged ourselves in this manner… London (often), New York (not often enough), a bevy of Italian cities, and memorably the isle of Capri, where in the shadow of Tiberius’ palace we enjoyed the many pleasures of words on the printed page especially on those extraordinary beaches where the sybaritic imperator sported and outraged the locals. Since history is so often written by the disapproving, I have long felt Tiberius got a bum rap. Perhaps, so advanced are your opinions on such matters, you agree, though you have gratefully supported the man without emulating his idiosyncrasies.
Food.
I feel compelled to touch on a few of the many aspects of foods we have shared. Here, as elsewhere, your habits are admirable, though, as elsewhere, they are strict, immutable, written in stone. I here have a confession to make. Have you wondered at the timing of my telephone calls, so often transpiring at 4 p.m.? This is deliberate, mischievous, designed to probe and challenge your predictable habits and tested regime. Forgetful of dates I may be… but I well remember just when you are preparing your evening meal… and mean to throw you off your schedule. So far, in many attempts, unsuccessfully. I am therefore in a position to aver, affirm, attest to the fact that you are a man of fierce habits, cherished, adhered to, set in cement.
My eating habits are, as you know, quite different… and it is because they are, I can offer a heartfelt thanks and appreciation for your conscientious care and concern. You eat… I forget to eat… you remind me to eat… I eat.
When we first met, so many years ago, I was immersed in writing a book (my first)… neglecting everything else. (Plus ca change.) This may have A) offended your sense of order, or B) roused your humanitarian feelings, or C) both.
I cannot say.
But I can say that your calls to remind me to eat were useful — and touching — and necessary. My kitchen was terra incognita for me, not for you. “You will find such and such a nutrient in such and such a place.” I didn’t know… you did… and if my thanks over the years had not been frequent and fulsome, I would say them all over again, always gratefully.
Money.
For decades now, I have been urging you (without noticeable effect) to open your fustian pocketbook and let the moths fly free. The Scots, of whom I am one, have a word for you, “near”, and since it is a word no one but Scots know or use, I can always use it with impunity. It is short, sweet and to the point, a combination of the niggardly, frugal, parsimonious and cheap.
For instance, consider the matter of your clothes. At once humbly and patriotically, I urge you to donate them to the Smithsonian Institution, for they are, at the very least notable, and arguably historic. Do this deed for God and country or for the tax deduction, but do it. Your popularity (as a worthy donor) will soar, and you’ll be helping your flagging candidate by assisting the economy, something he has proven manifestly unable to do. Help him here, while helping yourself.
“I am officially ‘old’ “.
When I called you the other day, you answered with the line above. It was at once a gentle reminder of what I had (again) forgotten… but more importantly it constituted an acknowledgement, a declaration, an admonition and a reality. We booked places on Time’s winged chariot at conception, as everyone does. But now we know what that means.
When you were born the world was mangled… all but glistening America, the only great power on earth. The sciences to which you have devoted your life were at the threshold of unimaginable advances. You have seen every development and, unlike so many of us isolated in the humanities, you have, because of your training, understood them.
That is why I treat your opinions in this matter with the respect they deserve. You have, principally in the classroom you graced so well, helped legions who all recall you with respect, not merely as a learned man, but as an honest man. I am an honest man, too, in part because of the example you have provided for so long.
Thus, I say this to you: stay clear headed and warm hearted to the end, whether that end be nigh or long delayed. Browning was not being merely optimistic when he wrote, “The best is yet to be.” He knew, however, that we must, all of us, take the best as we find it… for it, in some form or another, will always exist. And for me that will always include you.

About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com . Check out Massive Traffic Ultimatum ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=sk9BRJWy

5 tellltale signs you’re not really interested in business success… you just like talking about it.

Posted on September 16, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. This is one of the dozens of articles I’ve written about success. All are prescriptive, honest, detailed… the kind of articles you use a refrigerator magnet to post for the one in your house who talks the best game about success… but never does what’s necessary to achieve it. (That could be YOU!)
I’m writing this report for those who engage mouth… but nothing else.
Who try to make you feel small by always prattling on about the BIG things they mean to achieve… but somehow never do.
These people need help and they need it instantly. I aim to provide it… and I’m going to call on the spirit of Harry S. Truman, once president of the United States, to assist. I’m in a big pro-Truman phase right now, not least because I’m again reading one of the best written and most intelligent presidential biographies, David McCullough’s “Truman.” It is so rich I only permit myself to read a bit every day, because I know how good it is and how distressed I’ll be at its conclusion.
For this article’s theme music I’ve selected Paderewski’s Minuet in G, a piece Truman knew well; Paderewski himself had shown Truman how to play it… and on one memorable evening during the Potsdam conference of 1945, he played it to the most distinguished audience in the world, headed by the other two of the “Big Three”, Stalin and Churchill. The elegant music of another, more graceful age incongruously rose into the night air drifting over the macabre ruins of prostrate Berlin. You’ll find it in any search engine. Play it now.
Getting on with the job.
Harry Truman was one of the most quintessentially American presidents the Great Republic has ever had. He was hard-working, conscientious to a fault, direct speaking, humble about himself but determined to improve America and the world using the powers of the office he venerated, and graced. He had the profound American belief that problems were not obstacles, but challenges… and that they could be solved, all of them, if folks just got down to the essential business of solving them.
His approach, of course, might have been so very different. Being President of the United States, he could have pontificated in endless wordiness about what he was going to do… then returned to the White House to play the poker he loved with the buddies who made him laugh and relax, promises forgotten.
Or he could, following in the footsteps of one of the most revered of leaders, Franklin Roosevelt, give way to feelings of inadequacy, a man of slender skills dwarfed by one of history’s giants. But he didn’t go this direction either, despite a famously indiscrete toast by Winston Churchill who said, “I must confess, sir, I held you in very low regard. I loathed your taking the place of Franklin Roosevelt.” With friends like these… Untimely delivered to be sure, but a sentiment the majority of the American people shared with Churchill and which they, along with Churchill, changed as they came to know the man and his methods better. Then, Churchill rendered his revised opinion thus:
” ‘He is a man of immense determination. He takes no notice of delicate ground, he just plants his foot down firmly upon it’. To make his point, Churchill jumped a little off the wooden floor and brought both bare feet down with a smack.”
Now, be honest, would anyone call you a person of “immense determination” with an acute desire to solve problems and a practical willingness to do so as soon as possible? We have now arrived at the moment of truth, where you need to be a person of total veracity and integrity. Can you rise to this absolutely essential level? If so, it’s time to transform your habits so that you can create success after success; to start having and quit merely talking about it.
1) Shift from talking about to actually having success.
So, when was your last success? The longer ago the date you now provide, the bigger your problem. Successful people are starkly “now” oriented. They won’t tell you about the successes of years ago; the successes that matter are the ones of recent date. Thus, just how far back you have to go to find a meaningful success constitutes a very clear indication of just how big a problem you have.
2) You must be confident enough about your judgement to make decisions.
Successful people are decision-making people. They know that the achievement of success, then the maintenance and expanding of this success is a function of not just hundreds, but thousands of decisions:
Should I buy this inventory at this price, or not?
Should I invest the company’s assets in an interest paying account for this amount of time, or not?
Should I inform this very difficult customer that my firm cannot handle her business anymore, or not?
Should I fire this, hire this, advance this, demote this particular individual, or not?
Review the life and condition of any successful person, and you will see a steady increase in the number and importance of decisions made. Leadership, prosperity, success is all about the ability to make complicated decisions without regret, without second guessing yourself.
3) Successful people will work with you to work things out.
There is a marvelous phrase in the Bible that says simply, “Come now, let us reason together.” (Isaiah 1-18) This is precisely what successful people do. Of course, they want to make the best deal, but they realize the best deal contains substantial benefits for the people they are negotiating with; in other words, it is mutually beneficial. If the parties are mutually content, the deal is not only satisfactory for now, but keeps the door open for subsequent deals. And this is the best deal of all.
4) Successful people know the point, grasp the point, and keep their eyes and mind on the point.
Successful people are focused people. Life, already short, cannot be wasted; carpe diem is their motto, guide, and objective. They know that this day will end; that is a given. What is not a given is what benefits they have garnered from the day. The fact of a day is God-given; what happens in that day is determined by each of us. People who talk about tomorrow, next week, next month are fooling themselves and are rightly shunned and disregarded by people who regard procrastination, sloth, and inertia as completely unacceptable and root them out accordingly.
5) Successful people anticipate what people they are working with might need and gather it in advance.
Successful people are perceiving people, thinking people, aware people. They brainstorm options and are thoughtful about what may happen and how to prepare for it, for the ease and comfort of all.
Is this how you are? Or are you always a part of the problem, never part of the solution?
In this regard, consider what Floyd Boring, one of President Truman’s secret service agents, said about him:
“He never came on as being superior. He could talk to anyone! He could talk to the lowly peasant. He could talk to the King of England… And that was, I think, his secret.. He never got swellheaded — never got, you know, swagly.”
Ask yourself if anyone will ever regard you this way… and work hard to make sure they do.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell <a href=”http://HomeProfitCoach.com. Check out Massive Traffic Ultimatum ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=sk9BRJWy

Don’t like American politics? They change as fast as the weather. Just ask U.S. Representative-elect Bob Turner the apple of the Big Apple’s eye

Posted on September 15, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. I wasn’t going to write about politics today. I had everything all laid out for a laudatory article on an extraordinary woman and her important work with children. That, alas, will have to wait because of what a 70 year old Roman Catholic named Bob Turner accomplished on September 13, 2011, viz. he was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in a special election to fill the vacancy occasioned by the resignation of 7 term sextexting joyboy Anthony Weiner, who hereby earned fresh execrations and maladictions. If only the Honorable Anthony had texted less and loved his put- upon wife more…
The hot news is that Turner did it  in a district comprised of Queens and Brooklyn, New York.  So?…….. (and here’s the stink bomb for the astonished, horrified Democrats)…  He did it as a REPUBLICAN in a House district which has NEVER elected a Republican. (Drum roll.)
So, who’s the genius who gets the credit for this implausible, even unthinkable development?
You know him as B. Obama, president of these United States, and this morning in the Casa Blanca he didn’t eat his eggs, he wore them. Oh, my.
So I’m sending El Presidente a copy of the most famous political song ever sung in NYC, “The Sidewalks of New York,” lyrics and music by James W. Blake and Charles E. Lawlor. It was written in the 1890s but took off with the candidacy of “The Happy Warrier” Al Smith, Governor of the Empire State, candidate for the Democratic party nomination for president (1924), Roman Catholic, defeated Democratic party candidate (1928). Find it in any search engine; it’s a grand old tune and is today being belted out for Mr. Bob Turner, retired media executive, a hero to ecstatic Republicans, “East Side, West Side, all around the town…” Don’t even hum this ditty around the Oval Office today…
Another referendum on our de-escalating chief executive officer.
Bob Turner is a lucky man, and not merely because he was elected either. It was how he got elected. Nobody, absolutely nobody (possibly including Bob Turner) expected him to win. They just hoped he didn’t embarrass himself and the party in a district where Democrats hold an overwhelming majority, 3 to 1, and where his competition, a member of the New York State Assembly, David  Weprin, was an Orthodox Jew in a district at least 40 percent  Jewish. Moreover Weprin’s political family was well known and respected in the district.
In the end, everything going for the Democrats — and they had everything going  for them (on paper) —, wasn’t enough to counteract the toxicity of the president. From Day 1, it was 100% about him, his policies, and his descending political prospects… In New York of all the stalwart places!
So because it didn’t much matter, Turner got the luxury of telling the truth as he understood it… the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And feisty New Yorkers (who so often take underdogs to their hearts) liked what they heard from this unlikely hero who walked the pavements, knocked on doors, and talked to everyday people about their everyday concerns even though, out of earshot, these people thought he had a snowball’s chance in Hell to be their next Congressman.
But he just kept doing the necessary… and sharing his thoughts and common sense with his fellow countrymen, who bit by bit from the grass roots became the essential fuel for this unlikely event.
Turner talked about the punk economy and asked folks if they were happy with what they knew, what they saw, what the president and Democrats generally were doing to improve things. He turned this election into a referendum about BO and his malodorous policies. Were they helping the folks of his prospective district? If so, they should vote for his opponent. But if they were not, they should give him a chance.
Turner asked them, too, to give him the opportunity to go to Washington, D.C. pledged to bring business efficiency, business accountability, business standards to the notoriously chaotic and expensive management quagmire so notoriously mismanaged by Uncle Sam. Again, this message resonated with New Yorkers… who came to like Turner and his message… and the more they held their noses about BO, their former love, the better Turner looked.
Hidden losers.
An election is never just about the candidates; rather, it is about the legions of folks whose fortunes are to a greater or lesser extent connected to those candidates. Their stock and prospects go up or down depending on how the cat jumps.
Former Speaker of the House of Representatives, now Minority Leader, Nancy Pelosi (D-California), gets a pie in the face  — again. Clearly she, although supposed to be au courant on the affairs of her minority members, missed this boat. Pelosi is already shop worn… a couple more bumbles like this one, and she can go to work for the chocolate company on whose addictive product she dotes… and will never be missed on Capitol Hill. In all fairness, her liberal distribution of free chocolates would be…
Democratic New York Governor Andrew  Cuomo is another hidden loser, but it probably won’t hurt him much. He, too, was asleep at the switch and so missed the opportunity to provide necessary life support for Assemblyman Weprin. A governor of New York, any governor of New York, has a plethora of tools, resources, manpower, and, of course, money to be doled out liberally to forestall catastrophes like this one. Had he been more alert, Mr. Turner would never have succeeded.
Cuomo should burn the midnight oil studying his mistake. You see he aims to be president in 2016 and cannot afford too many rookie mistakes and oversights. It’s just not what we expect from such governors, or will tolerate.
Hidden winners.
Victory, it is said, has many fathers. If so, it’s certainly true here, and the list of hidden winners is very interesting indeed, including as it does former New York City mayor Ed Koch who ditched his party to endorse Turner. Koch gave the usual reasons, that Turrner would be good for America, etc. But the truth is Koch, as much as anyone, was glad for the chance to show Obama what he thought of him, which wasn’t much.
New York Assemblyman  Dov Hikind headed a list of well-known Orthodox Jews in this heavily Jewish district, usually reliable Democrats, who ditched their Jewish candidate Weprin and made Catholic Turner their man. Scratch the surface here and you’ll find evidence of the complicated, labyrinthine, tortured vicissitudes that make New York politics so arcane, and interesting.
One more  not-so-hidden winner, Donald Trump. He backed Turner but probably just to get his name in the papers. If so, The Donald achieved his objective.
Turner, a  keeper.
Prior to the election, the  Assembly (controlled by Democrats) and the Senate  (controlled by Republicans) had the hot potato of eliminating two congressional seats because of the census. They had pretty much decided to get rid of Weprin. But with Weprin’s crushing loss, Republicans see a chance to redistrict in such a way that Turner is protected and re-elected. Stay tuned for the machinations around this event… which won’t take place on the side walks of New York. It’ll definitely be clandestine and behind-the-scenes and so reassure us things are back to normal.
* * * * *
About The Author
Howard Martell serious inquires only 757=962-2482
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com Check out Chris Mentor Me ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=ld8pbXWE