Friday, December 02, 2011

The House that Built Me

On 50th and Xerxes in South Minneapolis sits a little house. A little house where I was born. I walked to school from down the alley, played with my neighbors, through mid pies at garages. It was a small house. It was the house that I knew what family meant.
We moved out of that house into a much larger house in an upscale suburb. I watched as money worries evaporated what I knew about family. Over reaching for the American dream pulled apart the strand and dumped them like a pearl necklace snapped off a neck.
I learned something interesting

You can only help someone who is sinking in quick sand from a vantage point of not being in the quick sand yourself. In essence you have to save yourself first before you can save others.

I think self preservation gets a bad rap

Financial mismanagement can undermine the strongest bonds.

Take lots of smart small risks instead of big ones.

Chasing someone else’s dream is dangerous.

I don’t need much to be happy.

Once relationships are damaged they are really hard to repair.

Going it alone is scary, exhilarating and generally frowned upon by others.

While that house is still there it belongs to someone else now. Now is my turn to build a house that will know what family is once again.

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