I was at a business meeting in Whistler B.C. a couple of winters ago. While I was there, one of my goals was to learn to snowboard. Well picture this, sports fans: a graybeard (me) standing at the “snowboard lessons” sign waiting for an instructor. Along comes a young lady with a big smile; she introduces herself and asks me if I skateboard.

Uh, no, I don’t.

“That’s okay, but it would be a help if you did” she says. I gulp and think: What have I gotten myself into? The lesson starts off pretty well. Once I know how to slide along on one foot and push with the other she directs me to the bunny hill. I’m feeling pretty confident, to tell the truth. What’s this? I think. I want a mountain! At the top of the bunny hill she explains the mechanics of snow boarding and without further ado; I launch myself from the top.

I careen out of control for about fifty feet or so (I may not know how to steer, but I’m having the time of my life!) before a seven year old tyke steps dead in front of me. The “how to stop” part of my recent lesson goes out the window; I hit the deck instead. That spares the wee child, but not my butt, which grinds a decent-sized furrow in the snow. That’s when I really understand that to get it right, I need to shelve my dignity for a while. I keep my ego going, though. I’ve always used it as fuel to keep going, because even if I look silly, I’d rather not give up. That’s the kind of person I am, and today, it sustains me through multiple wipeouts.  Never give up. Never.

It takes some time, and a couple of hard falls, but eventually, I graduate to the mountain.

The view from the top is spectacular – and the only way to the bottom is down is on a slippery piece of lumber everyone is calls a “snowboard” – an alien appendage that’s strapped to both feet. There’s no fear. I just feel a bit . . . . weird. Confident, but weird.

I tighten the bindings, point the snowboard down, holler “Fore!” and away I go! Right away, I notice there’s more room for error than on the bunny hill. The snow is a lot fluffier, which should cushion my falls. Things are going great!

I swoosh along, go around a corner and all of the sudden, the run narrows up, big time. So much for having room for error! There’s a tall timber on my left and a rough rock wall on my right. Suddenly, the mechanics of turning become really, really important to remember. I slide through the narrow spot and in front of me the view is great – but the snow’s running out. I’m hitting the end of the slope.

When I drop over the edge, my first thought is that the nice young lady who taught me might have a sadistic streak in her.

It was steep, steep, steep! In order to get down I have to do something that feels like it violates what I thought were the laws of physics: lean ahead to control my rate of decent. Trust me when I say that it takes a lot of discipline to lean forward when you’re sliding down a mountain.

When I hit the bottom (and live!), my instructor says that normally she’d take beginners down a gentler slope the first time down the mountain, but since I was quick learner and doing so well, she decided that I needed more of a challenge. Well, that gives me a shot of emotional fuel (remember my ego?) and I head back to the top, again and again.

I finally had to quit when the muscles in my legs were burning so bad, I could hardly stand. That evening when I was in the hot tub, feeling sore, but mighty fine about what I’d accomplished, I realized that if you want to do something bad enough, you need more than raw determination. You must believe that failure isn’t in your personal dictionary. You may fall again and again. The snow and the cold are bitter, but success is so very, very sweet.

P.S. I had taken my camera along to take some pictures for posterity, but even though it was in the front pocket of my ski pants I killed it on one of my more spectacular wipeouts. It turned out to be the only casualty.

You may read this a day or two late, but it really doesn’t matter as it’s about remembering, and you can stop and remember any day at any time. Today is an occasion you’ve got to bring to mind across the year, because it’s November 11th: Remembrance Day. I’ve always stopped where I was and bowed my head on this day to think about what it all meant.

Before 9/11, Remembrance Day stood for freedom and to me, it still does. On the 11th month, on the 11 day at the 11th hour the machines of war fell silent. In the silence of this anniversary, all the people who gave their lives so that we can enjoy the freedoms that we have today loom large in memory. They saved the freedom to say what we want as long as we harm no one, the freedom to move around and go where we want, the freedom to do what we want, when we want and how we want, as long as we harm no other soul. I’m an easygoing guy with a sense of humor, but this is a serious time; it’s sobering to think of what it would be like if we didn’t have those freedoms.

Over the last few years I’ve made a point to ask the younger generation what Remembrance Day means to them. Most often, they have to stop and think about it for a bit. It makes me realize that as time goes by, the sacrifices that were made for us are being forgotten. It makes me just a bit sad. The veterans are almost all gone. You see them limping or rolling along in wheelchairs, although some still stand tall, to the spots where they remember fallen comrades.

Follow them today, or if you read this later, follow them with your thoughts. Fire up Wikipedia. Research the great wars of the past, and read about soldiers marching and riding across modern wastelands, half a world away. In these times and places, critical days, minutes and even seconds burn lasting brands into history. It will only take you a bit of time to remember with them when the bell tolls today, at the 11th hour.

Halloween is history for another year. (Does anybody else remember when it was spelled Hallowe’en?) I always like to take time in the morning to stroll around and peak outside – having time to do that is one of the perks of having a home-based business. When I got up this morning and went downstairs I saw a heavy frost on the pumpkin we left on the front porch to “scare” trick or treaters. I went to the washroom to wash my face, looked in the mirror and noticed that the frost was showing a bit more in the old chin whiskers, too.

So, me being the king of curious, I sat down at my ‘puter and did the Google thing. What makes hair go gray?  Type that in for yourself and you’ll see the results: all 472,000 of them.  The first search page went up in a blink of the eye (and made me happy I bought a nice, speedy Mac), and I flipped through the listings fast. By the third organic listing I found what I was looking for. There was good news . . . and not so good news.

In a perfect world, hair turns gray over a period of time that’s solely determined by your genes. Every hair has specialized pigmentation cells. They eventually stop renewing themselves and your hair loses color. It’s only natural.

In the not so perfect world I inhabit on a day to day basis, there are many more causes, including stress, poor eating habits, bad health, smoking and excessive drinking – and that’s just for starters. These factors speed the process up considerably. Some people have to drive mega-miles through killer traffic lineups just to get to the office. They experience major pressure at work and after they punch out, have endure the long drive home again. Those three things are enough to drive a person smoke, drink, or both.

I’m sure glad I left all that behind. It’s slowed down the graying process. Now that I look outside again I can see that it’s warmed up some and the frost is gone, so no snow for today. It’s time for a “rip on me motor sickle.”

That’s why I love making money from home. It makes life seem a little less gray than it could be. What would a home-based business do for you?

Today I want to share something that shows that an opportunity - like a substantial income opportunity - is a life-transforming experience.

I was taking a drive today to experience in fall’s colors, smells and sounds when it struck me how fortunate I am to be able to see everything around me. See the black and white photo of me on my web page? I don’t have glasses on my face. It wasn’t always this way.

Starting at the age of five I had to wear thick glasses. Up until I was twenty my eyes got worse every year. The wonders of technology - and money in the bank - gave me an opportunity to get my eyes surgically repaired. So I stepped up to the plate and did it. I was a bit worried about the procedure of course, but my eye surgeon assured me that everything was going to be fine.

That black and white photo is my first morning without spectacles. What a morning it was!

I opened my eyes and looked at the clock without having to put on a pair of thick, bulky glasses. The first thing I did that day was buy a good pair of sunglasses: a fashion accessory I never got to have before. What I was aware of the most was that I no longer had to fear of losing or breaking my glasses. I didn’t have to be afraid I wouldn’t be able to find my way home. (That’s how bad my eyes were.)

I guess what this post is about is being grateful that I can see. I can see my grandchildren and see how they change as they grow. I can see my lovely wife everyday, the beautiful colors of fall and I can look into my monitor, type this down and share it with you. Every day, I’m thankful for stepping up and claiming the life I wanted to live. That’s just what I want to offer people with this business. Contact me and maybe we can help you take that step, and claim the best days of your life.