Here is what I have learned through my life…..so far:
At the age of six, I learned that I liked my teacher, because she cried when we sang, “Silent Night.”
At the age of seven, I learned that you can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
At the age of nine, I learned that when I waved to people in the country, they stopped what they were doing and waved back.
When I was thirteen, I learned that when I got my room the way I liked it, my mom would make me clean it up.
When I was fourteen, I learned that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.
When I was fifteen, I learned that although it was hard to admit it, I was secretly glad my parents were strict with me.
When I was twenty, I learned that even when I had a pain, I didn’t have to be one.
When I was twenty-four, I learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice.
When I was twenty-seven, I learned that brushing my child’s hair was one of life’s great pleasures.
When I was twenty-nine, I learned that wherever I went, the world’s worst drivers were there first.
At the age of thirty-one, I learned that whenever I decide something with kindness, I usually make the right decision.
At the age of thirty-five, I learned that every day, you should reach out and touch someone. People like the human touch – holding hands, a warm hug, or just a pat on the back.
When I was thirty-nine, I learned that if someone said something unkind about me, I had to live so that no one would believe it.
When I was forty, I learned that there are people who love you dearly, but they just don’t know how to show it.
When I was forty-one, I learned that you can make someone’s day by simply sending a little card.
When I was forty-four, I learned that the greater a person’s sense of guilt, the greater his need to cast blame on others.
When I was forty-five, I learned that children and grandparents are natural allies.
When I was forty-six, I learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone.
When I was forty-eight, I learned that everyone can use a prayer.
When I was fifty, I learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
When I was fifty-two, I learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly when they die.
At the age of fifty-three, I learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life.
At the age of sixty, I learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.
At the age of sixty-two, I learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new people, doing the best you can, and serving God, happiness will find you.
At the age of sixty-five, I learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
–Borrowed, adapted, changed, and embellished by Andy