JOE TYE

Praise for Never Fear, Never Quit:

A Story of Courage and Perseverance
A beautiful story of courage, love, hope, and faith.
Mark Victor Hansen, co-author of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Never Fear, Never Quit says it all. We all have our down times and need
the courage and perseverance to lift ourselves back up again. This book
can show you the way.
Ken Blanchard, co-author of The One Minute Manager
Great message! A timely book for those who wish to chart their own
destinies.
Laurie Beth Jones, author of Jesus, CEO
Making the twenty principles of courage and perseverance a part of your
life will help you achieve personal happiness and professional success.
Tony Lee, editor-in-chief of National Business Employment Weekly
A prescription for anyone wishing to conquer fear and lead a more
creative life.
Dr. C. Everett Koop, former U.S. surgeon general
This book shows you how to overcome the biggest single obstacle to
success in adult life. It is powerful, practical, and immediately useful.
Go for it!
Brian Tracy, author of Advanced Selling Strategies

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Never Fear, Never Quit and the Never Fear, Never Quit logo
are registered trademarks of Paradox 21, Inc.
Copyright 1995, 1997, 2004 by Joe Tye
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without the written permission of the
Publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN: 1-887511-21-0
Published by Paradox 21 Press.

Printed in the United States of America

October, 2004
10

8 7

JOE TYE

Never Fear,
Never Quit
A Story of Courage
and Perseverance
Joe Tye

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

NEVER
FEAR

JOE TYE

1 CARING IS THE ROOT OF COURAGE

When the sun touched the western horizon, paused, then slowly started
back up into the sky, Paul Peterson knew it was going to be a long day.
It had already been a long day. Paul had been standing at cliffs
edge for nearly an hour, watching the sun finish its daily arc and
listening to the surf smash against the rocks below. This sunset would
end a decade. Ten years of struggling to build his school, a safe place
where sad-faced kids could find refuge from a faceless system. On this
tenth anniversary of the Shays Point School, that dream had been ended
by the slash of a bankers eighty-dollar pen.
Ten years ago it had just been Paul himself, fresh out of law school
and determined to save young people from being crushed by the penal
system for committing crimes they hardly comprehended to be criminal.
Now it was him and the family, the mortgages, the school, the everincreasing critics, and the fewer-and-farther-between backers.
This morning he had cared. For the three-thousand-six-hundredfiftieth day, hed dragged himself out of bed after too little sleep, armored
himself in a coat and tie, and set out for the fight. And lost. Everything.
Including the capacity to care.
Now he was leaning into a still shoreward breeze, waiting for the
sun to disappear. Then he would take his last step.
Its a beautiful evening for flying, isnt it?
Paul started a the voice, which crept up from behind and slapped
him on the back. Losing his balance, he twisted his body sideways, arms
spinning frantically like the impotent rotors of a crippled helicopter.
As his feet left the ground, Paul felt the sensation of floating,
momentarily suspended in motionless time. His eyes locked onto the
faint pinprick of a star trying to burn its way into the darkening evening
sky as he toppled back and began to accelerate earthward. Then, much
too soon, he hit the ground.
After an agonizing moment of dark stillness, Paul drew what
seemed an awfully lot like a living breath and opened his eyes to see the
same star fighting for its spot in the twilight. There had been no tunnel
of light, no flashing autobiography, no celestial choir or old friends at the
gate. Just a quick fall, a sudden hard thump, and the dawning
realization of pain. Real, human pain.
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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Are you okay?
It was the same voice, deep and rich. Paul looked to his side and
saw a man of about his own age kneeling beside him. Long brown hair,
thinning on the top, fluttered like prairie grass in a summer breeze. His
dark, weathered skin suggested a life on the fishing boats. He wore the
compassionate, bemused smile of a father trying not to laugh as he
helped his child up from a spectacular tricycle wipe-out.

FEAR IS THE PARENT OF BOTH

COURAGE AND OF COWARDICE.
WHICH CHILD WILL YOU CHOSE
TO RAISE?
Here, let me give you a hand. The man pulled Paul to his feet without
apparent effort and brushed off the back of his coat. They were standing
fifty feet back from the edge of the cliff. At the spot where Paul had been
standing was a tall, slender man with a brown trench coat just like his.
He was watching the sun, now several degrees off the horizon. And
rising.
A pair of sea gulls streaked by, flying tail-first and emitting a
bizarre squawk. Paul closed his eyes and struggled to dredge up a
memory of falling of being broken on the rocks. Nothing short of being
dead could explain this craziness.
No, Paul, you didnt jump. At least not yet. Earthly time is
moving in reverse. You might say that the drama that played itself out
today is being un-acted.
The sun was huge above the horizon, dwarfing the man on the cliff.
A jet airplane moved backward across the sky, erasing the brilliant white
contrail that a moment ago had punctuated the orange firmament. Paul
saw the man in the trench coat watch the sun edge its way higher into
the sky, igniting the furrowed clouds as if the worlds entire supply of
fireworks had been requisitioned for this occasion. The figure dropped
awkwardly to his knees and remained for a moment with his face in his
hands, then just as awkwardly rose and started walking backward away
from the cliff.
7

JOE TYE
The fisherman put a hand on Pauls shoulder and guided him
toward the path. They followed the figure in Pauls trench coat as he
trudged backward down the hill, hands in pockets, eyes to the ground.
At the parking lot they watched the figure unclose the car door, and
stand there for a long while looking up the hill. He looked just like Paul
tall and thin, clean shaven, brown hair just a little too long for someone
otherwise dressed like a middle-aged yuppie.
Youve had a bad day, my friend, and youre about to live it again
twice, Im afraid. The fisherman smiled, not looking at all afraid. And
whats more, youre going to watch yourself do it. Com on, climb in.
The fisherman stepped through the back door of Pauls Chevy
without even opening it, and motioned for Paul to follow. The trenchcoated figure was backing his way into the drivers seat. Hurry up, the
fisherman shouted, its a lot harder to go through doors when the car is
moving.
Paul stood frozen as he listened to the oddly distorted but
unmistakable backfire of his old Chevy as the engine cut out. But the
engine hadnt cut out. It was now idling roughly and sucking white puffs
of smoke back into the tailpipe. The fisherman reached out from the car
and yanked Paul through the closed rear door. He didnt feel a thing.
The other Paul Paul could see now beyond a doubt that he was
watching himself put the car in drive and started backing out of the
parking lot, eyes straight ahead.
Hey! Watch where youre going, dummy, youre going to hit
something!
He cant hear you, the fisherman said, or see you. In fact only
one of you is really real. By the way, why do you so often call yourself
dummy? He looked serious, as though he really expected an answer.
Paul just snorted and looked out the window as the car accelerated
backward away from the parking lot.
The car was out on Fontanella Avenue backing down the road at
forty-five miles per hour. Looking out the side window, Paul saw a big
golden retriever leap backward into the air and spit a tennis ball out of
its mouth; the ball instantly reversed course, hit the ground just in front
f the dogs feet as it landed on its hind legs, and then bounded back over
its head into the hands of the young woman in the front yard. The dog
raced backward and sat expectantly at her feet as she rubbed its head
8

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

and put the ball back in her pocket. Paul vaguely remembered having
seen this scene played out in a forward direction on the drive toward the
cliffs.
This is going to take all day if we dont speed things up, the
fisherman said as he pulled a pocket watch out and wound it. The world
began to whiz by as if in time-lapse photography, except that it was all
whizzing by in reverse. The car raced backward down the exit ramp onto
the interstate, with Paul wincing as the other him accelerated to
seventy miles per hour without looking back. Just as quickly they were
back on Main Street, flitting tail-first through city traffic.
You look bewildered, my friend. Again that ancient, majestic
voice. Paul almost expected to look over and see a statue of Moses, but it
was still the fisherman with the infinite eyes. And that smile was it
heartrending sadness or bottomless joy? The man placed a hand on
Pauls shoulder, firm and reassuring.
My name is Rafe. Youre taking this pretty well, but I imagine
youd like to know whats going on. The car was spiraling backward up
the exit ramp of the First National Bank parking deck.
Paul nodded, so the man began. How can I best explain it, this
moving backward in time? Ordinary people see time the way a railroad
engineer sees tracks you pass over the cross ties one at a time: the
ones behind you receding back into the distance, the ones up front
always out of sight.
When you enter a tunnel, you have no way of knowing when you
will reach the light at the other side, you can only have faith that the
tunnel wont go on forever.
But I see time the way an eagle sees the railroad looking down
from the air. All at once I can see the tracks behind and the tracks
ahead. Depending upon my own airspeed or direction, the train below
can be moving forward, backward, or standing still relative to my own
position. Like this . . .
The car had backed into a stall Paul remembered parking in a
handicapped space this morning because he was running late for an
important meeting when suddenly everything froze in place. The other
Paul had a furious scowl on his face, and his clenched fist hovered about
six inches above the dashboard. Paul rubbed the side of his hand,
remembering the blow. Rafe clicked his pocket watch again, and the fist
9

JOE TYE
slammed off the dashboard as Pauls image stepped back out of the car,
jammed the parking ticket under the windshield wiper, and banged his
briefcase off the car hood.
They followed Pauls image as he paced backward toward the
elevators. When a train goes into a tunnel, Rafe continued, the
passengers may feel that they have been swallowed up by perpetual
darkness, but from my vantage point in the sky I can see just how long
they will be in there, and what awaits them on the other side.

IF YOU LOSE HOPE, YOURE JUST NOT

LOOKING FAR ENOUGH AHEAD.
As the other Paul pushed his way backward through the crowed bank
lobby, people behind him glared angrily at his back, then looked shocked
as the backs of their shoulders swung around to collide with the front of
his, and then resumed their unsuspecting small talk as he steamed back
toward the fateful conference room.
In the baroque elegance of the conference room Paul couldnt help
but laugh at the banks chief loan officer gesticulating madly while
sounding like Alvin the Chipmunk speaking Russian. Two armed
security guards walked backward into the room, looking over their
shoulders as they entered. They turned slowly and stood at attention for
a while as though just looking for an excuse to manhandle Pauls image,
then raced backward out of the room with alarmed expressions and
hands on their gun holsters.
Papers spilled out of briefcases and across the polished table
papers that Paul knew would destroy ten years of hard work and
sacrifice. The papers then spilled back into the briefcases, and Pauls
image walked backward out of the conference room. He didnt look angry
now, he looked scared to death. They followed him back to the car.
The sun was high overhead as they backed through the gate, and
Pauls image handed the ticket to the parking-ramp attendant. Familiar
landmarks flashed by as they drove toward Pauls dream: the Shays
Point Alternative School. A decade ago it had been a rundown
warehouse. For ten years Paul and Joan had sunk every hour, every
dollar, into building this school for troubled young people as an

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

alternative to reform school or prison.
It was a fight from the beginning. Some critics wanted the school
closed because the students were made to follow strict rules and wear
uniforms. Others wanted it closed because rewarding lawbreakers by
putting them in a special school wasnt their idea of justice. And now all
their wishes were about to come true. In about an hour, or an hour ago
with time flowing backward, the bank would shut him down for failing to
keep up on his loan payments.
He looks awfully lonely, doesnt he? Rafe watched Pauls image
at his desk punching away on a calculator and un-scribbling notes from
financial reports.
Lonely and frightened somehow the two always seem to go
together.
Pauls image stuffed his papers back into the briefcase and
retreated through the building toward the parking lot, nodding curtly at
uniformed youngsters as they scurried backward through the corridors.
The dashboard clock was counting its way back toward eight oclock by
the time they shot down the exit ramp onto the freeway toward the
suburbs. Paul noticed a growing coffee aroma, and realized that his
image was gradually un-drinking the cup on the dashboard.
The car slowed and came to a stop just past the driveway of his
white Victorian home. No matter which way time was flowing, Joans
landscaping was beautiful.
The driver gazed at the house for a moment, put the car in reverse
and, oblivious to the passengers in the backseat, twisted his neck to see
the road behind while he pulled forward into the driveway. They followed
him as he backed his way up the walk, said good-bye to the children,
kissed his wife at the front door, and then backed into the kitchen.
Even this morning, I knew. Paul looked wistfully into the
kitchen, wondering if hed ever hold Joan again, and how shed take the
new of his suicide. Paul watched his double, on high-speed rewind,
absentmindedly stirring cream out of his coffee. Then Joan and the
other Paul jumped out of their seats, the light went out, and their
footsteps retreated back toward the bedroom.
Paul rubbed his temples and walked toward his favorite easy chair.
From the back of the house he heard the obnoxious klaxon of his alarm
clock. It sounded very un-backward.
11

JOE TYE
Sorry, my friend. Rafe laughed. The current has changed, and
time is flowing forward again. Weve got a busy day ahead of us.
Paul saw Joan shuffle into the kitchen and disappear behind the
pantry door to get the coffee.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

2 FEAR ATTACKS ONLY WEAKNESS, SO CONFRONT IT

WITH STRENGTH
Paul watched from the doorway as his image entered the kitchen. He
hadnt noticed before that the small end of his necktie stuck out, and
how pale he looked against the dark blue suit.
He watched himself sit down at the breakfast table as Joan joined
him with two steaming cups of coffee. Why dont you eat some
breakfast, Paul? Youve been living on coffee and junk food for weeks.
He stirred the cereal but didnt take a bite. You had nightmares again
last night, didnt you?
Paul blew across the coffee mug. You know what theyre going to
do today, dont you?
Paul, youre exhausted. Call and tell them you cant make it
today. Stay home. Tell them youre sick.
I cant. Ive got to get ready for that meeting at the bank this
afternoon. I dont know what Im going to do, but I have to do something.
Theyre going to close the school. And you know what that means: we
lose everything my job, our house, everything.

FEAR IS A COWARD AND A LIAR.

IT WANTS TO SEE YOU WEAK,
BECAUSE ONLY THEN CAN IT
BE STRONG.
Not everything, Paul. We still have each other. And Jeff and Sandra.
Weve had to start all over before. The world cant throw any problem our
way that God wont give us the strength to handle. Maybe its all for the
best this way. Maybe keeping the school just isnt worth all the stress
and heartbreak.
Paul watched himself sip coffee, unsure whether to laugh or rage
at the fact that not only was he having to relive this mental anguish, he
was having to do it in duplicate. His image looked out the window. Its
too late for me to get a nine-to-five job. Id never fit into a law firm, and
with nothing by ten wasted years on my resume, theyd never hire me. I
13

JOE TYE
used to think that one advantage of being my own boss that hat nobody
could fire me. Hah! What a joke. The truth is no one would hire me.
Standing off to the side, Rafe whispered to Paul, Fear is a coward.
It attacks when you are weak and confused. Like most cowards, though,
fear is easily bluffed. It retreats when confronted by strength and
deliberation. Fear never would have gotten to you like this a year ago,
would it?
Paul scowled at Rafe. A year ago things were a lot different, a lot
more certain.
Yes, yes. Thats how fear works. First it sends along doubt to
soften you up. You begin to doubt whether or not youre doing things
right. Then you doubt whether youre doing the right thing. And finally
you doubt whether youre even the right person. Once there is enough
doubt, once you stop believing in yourself, then fear knows it can defeat
you. Its very cowardice is what make fear such a treacherous enemy.
The reason there is fear, Rafe, is that there are serious problems
problems I cant solve. There is no doubt that I am out of money. That
is a fact. There is no doubt that when I stop making my mortgage
payments, the bank will foreclose. That is a fact. And if I dont believe in
myself anymore, it is those brutal, real facts that are responsible, not
fear, not doubt, not the bogeyman.
Fear is also a liar. Rafe spoke with the certainty of someone
describing an ancient and familiar foe. Fear will take a bundle of those
things you call facts each of which might even be true standing alone
and weave them into a picture that is totally false. By adding different
facts, or by arranging them in a different way, you could paint a very
different picture, couldnt you? One where everything works out for the
best. But fear will never paint that picture for you, and will do
everything possible to prevent you from painting it yourself .
Fear will never tell you the truth. Fear wants you to be weak,
because then it can be strong. When you are strong, fear cannot
dominate you. By accepting fears picture of a bleak future, you become
a participant in a fraud a fraud in which you are also the victim.
To conquer this cowardly liar, you must confront it with strength
and determination, and with the facts and the hope that it wishes to hide
form you in the fog of despair. Do not listen to fear. Attack it.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

3 FEAR IS A PRISON FROM WHICH ACTION WINS

FREEDOM
Paul smirked at the notion that fear was a coward and a liar; what would
fear be afraid of, and why would it lie? Rafe was speaking as though fear
were a real living being, some sort of demon that could take physical
possessions of your body, make you do things you didnt want to do.
Could it be that his fear really wasnt part of him but some external thing
trying to work its way in from the outside?
Have you ever seen the great Wall of China? Something in the
way he said it convinced Paul that not only had Rafe seen the Great Wall,
hed watched it being built. Like most such walls, it was much better at
keeping people in than at keeping invaders out. The Great Wall was a
prison wall. So is fear.
Fear is a prison. It will no more keep frightening things out of
your life than the Great Wall kept Mongol invaders out of China. But it
can destroy your freedom of action so effectively that you cant do the
things that could prevent what you fear from happening.
Pauls image looked at his watch and pushed away from the table.
Joan wasnt ready to quit, though. Why dont you call Bill Roberts? He
might lend you money.
Paul snorted. Roberts thinks Im nuts for spending all my time
with this school instead of making money. Nothing would give him more
pleasure than to have me come begging for a handout.
Then what about your father? He might give you a loan.
Paul rolled his eyes, remembering the early years when his father
called almost every day with leads on a real job. Dads got his own
problems. He doesnt need to have a failed son come asking for
handouts.
Then Im going back to work.
No way! The kids need you at home now, especially with Jeff
having so much trouble at school.
Well, Paul, just what are we going to do?
Pauls image picked up his briefcase and refilled the coffee mug.
When Joan put her hands on her hips, he knew it was time to exit.
Dont worry, honey, everything will be okay. Itll work out fine. The
15

JOE TYE
bank will give us a loan extension, but I do have to get into the office and
get prepared for that meeting. Paul watched his image slink out of the
kitchen toward the front door. Joan wiped her hands on her apron as
she followed him out for a perfunctory kiss at the doorway.
Are you telling Joan the truth, Paul, or is that just wishful
thinking? Paul marveled at Rafes penchant for asking questions that
permitted only one truthful answer.

POSITIVE THINKING IS WORKING

FOR SOMETHING AND BELIEVING
THAT IT WILL HAPPEN. WISHFUL
THINKING IS WAITING FOR SOMETHING
AND HOPING THAT IT WILL HAPPEN.
Im surprised at you, Rafe. Havent you ever heard of the power of
positive thinking?
Yes indeed. In fact Id like to think that I played some small part
in the writing of a book by that name. But do you know the distinction
between positive thinking and wishful thinking?
Tell me.
Positive thinking is believing that something will happen, wishful
thinking is hoping it will happen. Positive thinking is working for
something to happen, wishful thinking is waiting for it to happen.
Wishful thinking is the lock that fear puts on the prison gate. You
know the good-cop/bad-cop routine? Where the bad cop beats you up
and then the good cop gets you to confess by treating you well? Well,
fear is the bad cop, threatening you with doom and dread. But fear
needs a good cop, or else you might just get frightened enough to do
something constructive to chase fear away.
So fear lets you indulge yourself for a while in flights of wishful
thinking. Somehow, you think, something will happen to make the
problems go away. By the time you wake up, its too late. What you
feared has happened, and fear has defeated you.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

The only way to escape from the prison of fear is action. You
cannot wish your way out, you cannot wait your way out. You can only
work your way out. Every time you escape the prison of fear, you grow
stronger and more confident. It will always be there, trying to wall you
in, but you will eventually grow so strong that you can just step right
over the walls.

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JOE TYE

4 ANY HARM THAT VIOLENCE CAN DO, FEAR CAN DO

Out in the front yard Rafe and Paul watched Pauls image gazing back at
the house. It is a lovely house, Paul said to Rafe, more than I can
afford, but it makes Joan happy. It doesnt really matter now, though,
because were going to lose it all anyway.
Rafe sniffed one of Joans roses. Fear is also a thief.
Fear isnt going to steal my house, Rafe, the bank is.
Rafe looked firmly at Paul. No, your fear is preventing you from
admitting weakness, chancing rejection, and asking for help.
Fear is stealing from you your freedom to act, your desire to
succeed, your willingness to stick your neck out, even your capacity to
care. Once it has stolen those things, its only a matter of time before it
takes your possessions as well.
Paul rolled his eyes. Give me a break.
Rafe continued. Fear is a killer, too.

UNDERSTAND YOUR FEAR, BUT

NEVER SURRENDER TO IT. THE
FIRST BACKWARD STEP CAN
CAUSE A DOWNWARD SPIRAL OF
PANIC, RETREAT, AND FAILURE.
Oh, right . Fear is a coward. Fear is a liar. Fear is a prison. Fear is a
thief. And now, fear is a killer.
Sure, it happens all the time. Theres a crash on Wall Street,
someone panics and sells out at the bottom in reaction to fears false
presentation of the facts, loses everything, and then jumps out the
window. First he let fear rob him of his money and then he let fear push
him off the balcony.
Fear, you see, cant hurt you by itself, because its not even real.
It needs a weapon, and the weapon fear most often wields is panic.
Panic is simply an unreasoned reaction to fear. More often than not,
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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

panic is not only an inappropriate reaction, it actually causes the very
thing of which you are afraid.
At that moment the children came out. Jeff, big for an eight-yearold, and strong, and Sandra, the six-year-old towhead. Children, Rafe
said, kneeling invisibly beside them, fear is going to take your father
tonight, perhaps. Be brave. Fear cant hurt you unless you let it. The
children stopped for a moment, as though some exotic fragrance had
touched their nostrils, hinting of distant lands to be explored. Then the
school bus pulled up and they raced off, backpacks bouncing like pogo
sticks.
Rafe stood silently watching the yellow bus round the corner. He
looked like a man who had seen many children lose their fathers.
Fear is a thief and a killer. Any harm someone else can do to you
by violence, fear can cause by your reaction to it. But remember that
fear is also a coward. It likes to work under the dark of doubt. Like
other thieves and killers, fear shrinks away when you shine a light on it.
Shine a light on it? How do you shine a light on fear?
Youre leaving now, Rafe said as he hopped through the door into
the backseat. The familiar backfire cracked the air as his image cranked
up the engine. Hop in the car and well talk at the office. Paul climbed
in. He was getting used to not having to open the door.

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JOE TYE

5 GIVE FEAR A NAME AND IT BECOMES JUST A

PROBLEM
The school was deserted when they showed up; the kids wouldnt arrive
until eight thirty. Pauls image went straight to the office, removed the
bank report from his briefcase, and started working the calculator with
clumsy fingers. With every subtotal he grimaced a though experiencing
actual physical pain. Rafe watched with the fascinated stare of a child
examining a bug under a magnifying glass. Whats going on in his head
right now?
How should I know? Paul replied, causing Rafe to look at him
with arched eyebrows. Well, what I mean is that its a pretty confused
jumble in there. I guess hes mainly worried about money.
Okay, so the problem is money, Rafe said. What are some
things you can do to raise money?
Its not that easy! Paul shot back. Hes Ive tried everything.
Everything?
Just about. Most of these kids dont have parents who could
pitch in, and I cant put them to work, because its against the child
labor laws.
So the problem is changing the laws?
Oh, that would look great in the newspapers, wouldnt it? Noted
child-welfare activist puts children to work in factories to raise money for
his school.
Okay, then what about Joans suggestion to call Bill Roberts, or to
ask your father for a loan?
Not on your life, Paul countered. Roberts would string me out
for as long as it amused him, then shoot me down. Dad would tell me to
get a job.
Rafe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So the problem is learning to
deal with rejection?
I deal with rejection just fine, thank you.
What about Phyllis Nesserbaum over at New Trails Learning
Center? Have you spoken with her?
How do you know about New Trail? Paul asked suspiciously.
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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Lets just say I get around. Dont they have money?
Rafe, theyre the competition!
Competition? Arent there enough troubled kids to go around?
Of course there are enough troubled kids, Rafe. Theres not
enough money. And Nesserbaum gets more than her share. Any help
she gave me would come with a price tag giving up control of my
school.
So the problem is trying to work with Phyllis without losing
control?
Im afraid thats a real problem, Rafe, trying to work with Phyllis
without having her take over everything.
Rafe smiled. If its just a problem Paul, then you dont need to be
afraid. You may be unable to conquer fear, but you can always solve
problems. If you give fear a name, then it becomes just a problem to be
solved.
A loud snap punctured the silence as Pauls image cracked a pencil
in half and flung the pieces across the room.
Wed better go out before someone gets hurt, Rafe said. Who
know what cosmic havoc might be created if your double killed you with
a broken pencil. In the hallway Rafe took a drink from the cooler.
When you were in college, how come you decided not to jump out of that
airplane at the last minute?
How do you know about that?
I told you, I get around. Was it the same reason you hate roller
coasters?
Yeah.
The same reason you keep your savings in a bank account instead
of the stock market?
How do you Never mind. Basically, Rafe Im a coward. The
reason I have no glory is I have no guts.
Now we know what fear calls you, Paul. It calls you coward. Of
course youre not a coward. Prudent and risk-averse, perhaps to excess
sometimes, but certainly not gutless. But when you allow fear to apply a
label to you, you gradually assume that identity. With each new
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JOE TYE
opportunity to take a risk, fear whispers into you ear, You cant do that.
Youre a coward. And you nod in agreement. Isnt it true that despite all
the risks youve taken in starting up the school, you see yourself as more
cowardly today than you did ten years ago?

GIVE FEAR A NAME, TALK TO IT.

FORCE IT TO BE RATIONAL. NAME
YOUR FEAR AND IT BECOMES JUST
A PROBLEM. ITS EASIER TO SOLVE
PROBLEMS THAN IT IS TO CONQUER
NAMELESS FEAR.
Well, yes, but
Rafe cut him off with a raised hand. Saving money for the
children has nothing to do with it, or youd have gotten what you call a
real job long ago. The fact is you are beginning to accept the identity
that fear wants to give you. Give fear a name and it becomes just a
problem; let fear name you and you become the problem.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

6 FEAR CREATES ENEMIES, COURAGE CREATES

FRIENDS
Rafe and Paul walked out to the playground while Pauls image
continued to abuse his calculator. The first recess had started, and kids
were attacking the jungle gym in imagined heroics.
Rafe leaned against a tetherball pole not currently in use. Why
are you afraid of Phyllis Nesserbaum?
I told you, Rafe, Im not afraid of her. I compete with her. There
are only so many people who donate to schools like this, and Phyllis has
the inside track on the high-society rollers. Im not part of that scene.
The high-society scene, Rafe asked, absentmindedly tossing the
tetherball around the pole, thats where the money is?
Rafe and Paul noticed several kids looking wide-eyed in their
direction, and realized that from their perspective the tetherball was
spontaneously looping itself around the pole. Come on, said Rafe, lets
go walk around a bit.

FEAR EXCLUDES AND CREATES

ENEMIES. COURAGE INCLUDES
AND CREATES FRIENDS.
If your problem is money, then why are you afraid to go where the
money is?
Paul dug his hands into his pockets. Im not afraid. Theyre just
not my kind of people.
Rafes eyebrows went up again. Oh, what kind of people are
they?
Arrogant. They look down their long noses at me and my cheap
tweed jacket. Lifes just too short to be kissing up to . . . The words
trailed off as Paul looked back toward the children, his children, running
around the playground.
To the enemy?
Well, as a matter of fact, some of them are. Theyve tried to shut
23

JOE TYE
down my school for ten years, and now it looks like theyre going to do
it.
A basketball came rolling toward them through the grass, and Rafe
kicked it back, greatly alarming the little boy who was chasing it. Ive
got to stop doing that, Rafe reminded himself. Maybe they just dont
understand what youre trying to do.
You dont understand, Rafe: They dont want to understand.
Yes, Rafe replied, fear does that to people.
Fear? Theyre not afraid of me.
Are you sure? Rafe stopped and looked at Paul. If you took a
bunch of your kids to their front doors one evening singing Christmas
carols, would they come out to see you?
Good point.
Rafe stopped under the big oak tree and pulled a handful of
peanuts out of his pocket. He stopped to feed a pair of gray squirrels,
and for a moment seemed to be aware of nothing else in the world. As
they ran off full-cheeked, he said, Thats another way fear destroys you.
Excuse me? Pauls attention was still with the squirrels
scampering up the tree.
Remember how I said that your reaction to fear can cause you to
lose all your possessions, even to lose your life? Well, another way fear
can destroy you is by creating enemies.
Fear wants to keep out anyone whos different, who makes you
feel the least bit uncomfortable, anyone who challenges your established
opinions and assumptions. At the same time that your fear is excluding
them, their fear is excluding you. Pretty soon, theyre not just different,
theyre worse. And of course, youre not just different to them, youre
worse, too. And its not a very big step from being worse to being wrong.
And from being wrong its not a very big step to being an enemy.
Fear excludes and creates enemies. It takes great courage to
bring down the walls of exclusion and reach out to people who are
different from you.
Yeah, that sounds nice, Rafe, but in the real world theres a lot of
risk in trying to reach out and touch everyone. Trusting an enemy is the
best way in the world to lose everything you have.
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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Everything? Rafe replied. Not everything, Paul, its not
everything at all once you see the big picture.

25

JOE TYE

7 FEAR GETS LOST IN THE BIG PICTURE

Pauls image slammed on the brakes and cursed at the old man who had
cut him off. It was their third close call since leaving the school. You
know, Rafe chirped, if this is the way you always drive, youre a lot
luckier than I gave you credit for.
Very funny. I may be afraid of losing my school, and I may be
afraid of rich people, but at least when I get behind the wheel of a car,
Im a man above fear.
There are times, my friend, when a little fear is a good thing, Rafe
replied with a laugh. In fact a little fear can be quite a positive thing if it
helps you see the big picture. Come on, lets go for a walk.
Right now? We cant go for a walk! Were headed for the bank.
Oh, no problem. Rafe pulled the watch out of his pocket and
pushed a button; instantly everything froze in place. Rafe stepped out,
motioning Paul to follow him through the door.

AS LONG AS YOURE STILL

BREATHING, YOU HAVENT
LOST EVERYTHING.
They walked down a narrow alley. Paul was fascinated that even though
time had stopped, he could still smell the garbage. Halfway down the
alley Rafe stopped and looked at a man sleeping under a makeshift
blanket of newspapers. An empty booze bottle protruded from a brown
bag near his head. Is this what you mean by losing everything? Rafe
asked.
Close enough!
Okay, take a look. An image appeared on the brick wall in front
of them, as though a rear-screen projection television had been installed
there. Two men were standing on a stage; one was giving the other a
large plaque and speaking.
Jack OMara was down, but he never let himself get counted out.
He pulled himself out of the gutter, and somehow God gave him the
courage to quit drinking. And now not a day goes by that Jack isnt out
26

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

there in the streets helping others who are down, showing them how to
get back up. Lets give a big hand. . .
As the picture faded out, Paul saw tears tracking the deep wrinkles
of Jacks ruddy cheeks. He looked down at the younger man on the
ground, who appeared so much older than he would in the future. Rafe
stooped to place another layer of newspaper over Jacks shoulders. I
guess as long as youre still breathing, you havent lost everything.
They walked on through the alley and across the street. An old
man and a young boy were sitting together a the bus stop. Come on,
Rafe motioned, lets go listen in for a minute.
The little boy was talking: Everybody says you used to be rich.
Were you really?
The old man laughed indulgently. If you mean did I have a lot of
money, yes I used to be rich. I had a big car, and a man to drive it, and
in the morning people would say good-day real polite because they were
all so scared of me. The man looked at the little boy and winked. Oh, I
was pretty tough in those days. Used to yell and scream a lot, and
treated some people pretty bad. But I made a lot of money.
Wow! The little boys eyes were big and greedy. What
happened?
The old man frowned and shook his head. Well, it just sort of all
fell apart. There were lots of reasons, but mostly I jut got tired. The
business went downhill faster than I could catch it.
The little boy narrowed his gaze. You must really be sad now,
huh? The old man laughed. This morning Im sitting here with a
delightful young man. Then Ill go read at the library for a while, and
feed the squirrels in the park. When I get back home, the wonderful
woman who put up with me for so many years will have soup on the
stove, and shell jump when I pinch her bottom like she didnt know it
was coming, even though Ive done it everyday for thirty-six years. The
little boy blushed and looked away, and the old man tussled his hair.
No, I reckon Im not sad.
Rafe froze the scene again and they walked back toward the car.
Paul was getting used to Rafes hand on his shoulder. I guess you dont
really mean you could lose everything, do you?
I know, Paul muttered, keep your perspective. There are still

27

JOE TYE
children starving in India even though I cleaned my plate all those years.
But its easy enough for you to pick out those happy endings. What
about all the endings that arent so happy?

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8 FEAR IS MANY TOMORROWS, COURAGE IS ONE TODAY

Rafe was quiet for a long while. Paul could see the bank building
looming up ahead. Finally Rafe broke the silence. Who said anything
about endings?
What? What endings?
You accused me of only picking out happy endings. Do you think
Jack OMara will never struggle with the bottle again after his award? Or
that the old man and his wife wont know loss and loneliness? Theres
only one ending in life, and whether its happy or sad depends on your
perspective.
So why didnt you take me to those days? To Jack OMara
fighting to keep his sanity, or that old man weeping over the loss of his
wife? That would have given me a whole different perspective
wouldnt it?
Not really, Paul, because even though Jack must always struggle,
the struggle always makes him stronger. And even though the old man
lives his last years alone, he finds his own inner peace through his
loneliness. Remember how I said that I can see time the way an eagle in
the sky looks down upon the railroad tracks? Well, from that perspective
there really are no endings at all. Every time you round a corner or enter
a tunnel and think that its an ending, I know that you could just as well
call it a beginning. Or a middle.

DONT GET CRUSHED BETWEEN

THE ANVIL OF YESTERDAYS
REGRETS AND THE HAMMER
OF TOMORROWS WORRIES
Pauls image was cursing the lack of parking spaces in the garage.
Finally he pulled into the handicapped stall, looking both ways to make
sure no one was watching. Rafe and Paul followed him toward the
building.
You see, Paul, fear is worrying about all the different tomorrows.
Fear is worrying about the bad days that may or may not come, and even
29

JOE TYE
worrying about the good ones because you know they cant last. You can
dream of the future, plan for it those are good things to do but you
cant control all the tomorrows. Youll have some good ones, and youll
have some bad ones.
Pauls image looked at his watch and fidgeted while they waited for
the elevator. Rafe looked at the two Pauls and smiled. The more vividly
you anticipate the bad days, the more certain you can be they will come.
I think were about to see something like that happen now.
The elevator door opened, revealing a cab jammed full of people.
The door closed, leaving Pauls image standing outside. He kicked the
door with a curse and glared again at his watch as if by sheer force of
will he could stop the flow of time. Then he stalked off toward the
staircase.
Rafe and Paul hurried to follow Pauls image down the stairs. Paul
smiled to himself, knowing that right now his image was anticipating
that the door would be locked at the bottom. What if I could tell him tell
myself that its really not locked? Paul wondered. How much wasted
emotional energy we could save. They followed Pauls image through the
lobby toward the conference room.

HAVE THE COURAGE TO STOP WORRYING

ABOUT ALL THE POSSIBLE TOMORROWS
AND THE TROUBLE THEY MIGHT BRING,
AND GIVE YOUR WHOLE ATTENTION TO THE
ONE TODAY IN WHICH YOU ALWAYS LIVE.
To be afraid is to live among all the many frightening tomorrows as if
they were certain to happen. To be courageous is to close off all those
tomorrows and devote your attention and energy to the one today that is
the only thing you ever experienced with certainty.
Rafe stopped Paul for a minute. Without a word he extended his
arm toward the crowded bank lobby. It was an obvious message: Most of
the people were only partially there. Their minds were elsewhere. Many
of them appeared frightened, Paul noted as he looked more closely.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Another way people frighten themselves is by creating many
imaginary tomorrows in which everything is all right, into which they can
escape from the pain and uncertainty of dealing with today. Either way,
living among the many possible tomorrows will distract your attention
from how you must think, feel, and act on this one today in order to
pursue your purpose with courage.
Pauls image opened the conference room door, stood for a moment
like Daniel at the mouth of the lions den, then went in. Lets go see
how you do with this today, Rafe said, bringing a reluctant Paul along
with him.

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JOE TYE

9 FEAR IS A REACTION, COURAGE IS A DECISION

Rafe and Paul stood off to the side, where they were framed by a pair of
oil paintings of paunchy old men with mutton chop sideburns who
seemed very satisfied with their own importance. Everything about the
room was designed to intimidate: the walnut paneling, the ornate
chandelier, the granite fireplace, the massive conference table. Sitting
across the table from the bankers and lawyers, Pauls image was clearly
intimidated. Well, Mr. Peterson . . . the senior loan officer began.
Paul knew that when Marty Weatherford used such formality, it
was going to be a tough meeting. With his short hair and powerful build,
Marty looked more like a Marine than a banker. Paul had first met
Marty through Rotary, and now they tried to play racquetball together on
Thursdays.
It seems that your business
Its a school, Pauls image snapped. Its not my business, its a
school for kids who would otherwise be out on the street, or in jail. Or
dead.
Marty sighed dramatically. Well, yes, of course its a school, but
perhaps if youd run it more like a business, you wouldnt be having
these problems today. He whispered a question to the man sitting next
to him, and in response was handed a folder.
Now, according to our records, Mr. Peterson, you are three
months behind in making payments on the school-building loan, and
your debt ratios have all fallen below the accepted
Paul cut him off by drilling an exclamation point into the table with
his finger. You know well and good that I will pay off that loan, Marty!
For crying out loud, youve got my house as collateral. Ill catch up on
the payments, I just need some more time to work things out.
Marty gave Paul a this is going to hurt me more than its going to
hurt you look, then closed his briefcase. Im sorry, Paul, but you know
as well as I do that youre behind on house payments as well. Im afraid
we have no choice. Were going to have to foreclose on both loans. Im
sorry.
Pauls image exploded out of the chair. Youre afraid! You dont
even know what the word means. Although the breadth of a solid
mahogany table was between them, Marty and the other bank officers
32

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

backed off defensively as Pauls image erupted. And you dont know the
meaning of the word sorry, either! What am I supposed to do now? Take
my family and my students and go live under a bridge somewhere?
Paul watched himself rage at his friend. At that moment, he saw
how malignant fear could be. It wasnt Martys responsibility to pay off
his loans, yet he was screaming as though his friend and banker had
hurt one of his children. In fact Marty was right. Paul didnt have a clue
how he would pay off those loans.
Did you see how fear changed the subject? Rafe asked as Pauls
image subsided into a despondent slump in the leather conference room
chair. Paul shook his head.
Fear rejects criticism, especially when its legitimate. Rather than
facing up to the problem in a mature, rational way, it uses anger and
guilt and self-pity to refocus the discussion. It doesnt want to hear
about those things that you arent doing but should be doing and instead
wants to blame someone else for your predicament.
Security guards had come into the room from both doors, but
Marty waved them back. Everythings okay now. Perhaps someone
could just escort Mr. Peterson to his car.
Pauls image snapped his briefcase shut. I dont need an escort. I
know the way.
Rafe gave Paul a nudge. Wed better hurry if were going to keep
up with your friend. Lets take a shortcut. Rafe pulled Paul through the
wall into the tellers cage, and then right through the counter into the
lobby. Pauls image was steaming around the corner, knocking people
out of his way as he went.
Look at that face, Rafe said. All that anger, youd never know
that he is running away scared. The two fell in behind as Pauls image
plowed through the front door.
Of course hes scared, Paul said defensively, rather embarrassed
at the performance that looked so much more outrageous seen from the
outside than it had from the inside. Hes about to lose everything he
should be scared.
Everything? smiled Rafe.

33

JOE TYE
Dont give that perspective routine again, Rafe. This is an
impossible situation and you know it.
Just ahead they watched Pauls image slam his briefcase down
onto the hood of the car and rip the parking ticket out from under the
windshield wiper. He threw his briefcase across the seat, got in, and
slammed his fist onto the dashboard.
Its not impossible, Paul. You just havent yet decided to have the
courage to deal with it like a problem instead of reacting to it like a
threat.
Fear is the parent of both cowardice and courage. Which child
will you choose to raise?

THE MOST POWERFUL STEPS YOU

CAN TAKE TO CONQUER FEAR ARE
TO TAKE PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY
FOR YOUR OWN LIFE AND TO REFRAIN
FROM BLAMING OTHERS FOR YOUR
TROUBLES AND FAILURES.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

10 WITH FAITH FEAR BECOMES AN ALLY

The old Chevy rattled across the gravel parking lot and backfired loudly
as Pauls image turned off the ignition. He rested his forehead against
the steering wheel for a long moment, then left the keys in the car and
climbed out. From the backseat Rafe and Paul watched him climb the
hill toward the cliffs.
Am I going to jump? Paul asked as his image disappeared over
the crest of the hill.
Rafe smiled softly. Dont you know?
I do know that at this very moment I the I who is up there
watching the sun go down intends to end it.
Rafe stopped smiling and looked at Paul so intensely that he
turned away. Do you want him to jump, Paul?
Paul licked his thumb and tried to rub a peanut butter stain out of
the backseat. I dont know. I dont want him . . . I dont want to die,
but I cant go on like this. Fear may be a treacherous enemy like you
said, Rafe, and if thats so, then it has beaten me. I do want it to end.

PRAY FOR FAITH. COURAGE WILL

COME AS AN ADDED BENEFIT.
Rafe looked more closely at Paul, then climbed out of the car. Motioning
with his head for Paul to follow, he ascended the path. The sun
illuminated the evening sky as if it were Gods own stained-glass
cathedral. Paul watched his images hair blowing in the breeze at the
edge of the cliff.
You cant see it, can you?
Paul blinked. See what?
See fear standing behind you there, preparing to shove you off
that cliff. You cant see it, can you?
No, I cant see it, Rafe.
You cant see it because its not there. Its nothing, not even a
puff of hot air. Just a figment of your imagination, yet youre about to be

35

JOE TYE
pushed to your death by it.
The sun touched the horizon and continued its descent. The man
at the edge stared straight into the light and wrapped his arms around
his shoulders as though trying to stay warm against a winter wind. You
see, Paul, Rafe continued, that man out there cant take his mind off all
those depressing tomorrows. If he just had faith, then fear could become
his ally.
Now only the top quarter of the sun gleamed above the horizon,
sending a sword of brilliant orange across the waves, its tip pointed
directly at the man on the cliff. Paul was losing his concentration to a
morbid fascination with the scene unfolding before him: Was he about to
watch his own suicide? He had to force himself to process Rafes last
words. How can fear be an ally?
Rafe looked at Paul, but the young mans eyes were riveted on the
figure silhouetted in the setting sun.
If you have faith, there is nothing to fear. Believe in the meaning
of life and your own purpose in life, and fear simply becomes a warning
that you are not yet prepared for the challenge. Master your fear and it
becomes an ally.
The suns last fragment floated for a moment on the sea, a jeweled
ring on the hand of an elfin princess, then it dipped below the surface.
Pauls image moved closer to the edge. At that second the splendor
of the fiery orange sky seemed to suck the air right off the hilltop. It was
as if every ounce of beauty from everywhere in the universe had been
packed into that one ultimate sunset. At the cliff the other Pauls hands
fell to his sides.
Paul wanted to scream, to yank his image back away from the
precipice, but he was frozen in horror.
The man on the edge took a step and leaned forward into the wind.
Instantly the hill was vacant. No Rafe. No sound. No air. Paul was
yanked off his feet and sent hurtling toward the sunset. At the edge of
the cliff, as though he had slammed into an invisible wall, he was
wrenched violently downward. He saw his own flailing body coming at
him from below and knew that the two would reconnect at the moment of
impact.
Raaaaafe!

36

NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

NEVER
QUIT

37

JOE TYE

11 STICK TO YOUR PURPOSE

Paul. Paul! Wake up. Whats the matter?
The screams were still echoing through the dark caverns of Pauls
fading subconscious mind. His pajamas were soaked, he clutched his
pillow like a lifeline. The sensation of falling had stopped abruptly, but
there was no impact. Just the feel of Joans hand on his shoulder and
her voice in his ear.
Its okay, Paul, its just a dream. Just a bad dream.
Paul opened his eyes. By what right was he back in his own
bedroom? What time is it?
Its not even six yet. Try to get some more sleep, okay?
Paul tried to lurch out of bed, but Joan pressed him back down.
Too exhausted to fight, he closed his eyes and tried to put it all together.
It couldnt have been a dream. It was too real. Maybe being in heaven
was just lying in bed with Joan snuggled against his back, knowing hed
never fall again.
Paul?

IF YOURE NOT ENJOYING THE JOURNEY,

YOULL PROBABLY BE DISAPPOINTED IN
THE DESTINATION.
Hmmm?
Whos Rafe?
What do you mean, whos Rafe?
You were talking in your sleep and said that name a lot. You were
screaming it when I woke you up.
Paul just groaned and tried to push himself up, but Joan pressed
down against his shoulder as he tried to rise. Paul, its not even six
oclock yet. You dont have to get up. Sometimes the most important
thing you can do is resist the temptation to do something when it would
be more valuable just to stop for a while.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Paul surrendered to Joans touch, sinking back into the bed. Eyes
closed, his mind teetered between consciousness and sleep. Rafe?
Rafe? No answer. In the lonely darkness fear held him trapped. Today
was the day he would lose it all. The school, the bank, the cliff all came
back to him as powerfully as a memory of something that had already
happened a memory of the future. He drifted off to sleep with the fear
of falling again paralyzing his will even to crawl out of bed.
Give what a name, Paul?
Joan shook Pauls shoulder softly, dragging him back out of the
nightmare confrontation with fear.
You were talking again, saying give it a name, as if it were
urgent.
Paul stretched and looked at the clock. It was nearly seven. I
dont know, just a dream, I guess.
Dont go to work yet, Paul. Lets take a walk, like we used to do in
the mornings. Its been too long since we really talked.
As they walked, Pauls breathing untied the knots in his stomach.

DONT BE IMPRISONED BY GOALS

THAT YOU HAVE OUTGROWN.
How long had it been since hed really heard the birds morning songs,
smelled the fresh new air? Then, like an unwanted intruder, the familiar
voice reminded him: Today is the day you lose everything.
Joan, I havent really been honest with you.
How so?
Ive been keeping up a brave face for you and the kids, but I dont
see how were going to make it. Today the banks going to take
everything away from us. Im afraid the dream is over.
Joan stopped and looked out across the bay. One of the reasons
they had built in this area was the morning stillness of the woods. Paul,
the dream ended a long time ago.
Paul stiffened, not sure whether to be annoyed or angered. What

39

JOE TYE
are you talking about? We turned that old warehouse into a real school,
weve got nearly two hundred kids enrolled and if it werent for running
out of money, we could keep growing.
Think back to those days in law school, Paul. You werent
dreaming of becoming an administrator, a fund-raiser, a bureaucrat.
Your dream was to spend time with kids who had problems, to help them
cope in a hard world. Sure, youve got the school now, and weve got a
nice house, but you almost never spend time with the kids anymore. Not
our kids or the kids at the school. Youre always in meetings or working
on budgets.
But thats not the same. What Im doing
Joans raised hand cut him off. Your cause is noble, but anyone
who looked at what you actually do every day would scarcely be able to
distinguish you from all your classmates with their jobs in law practices
and corporate offices. For the little contact you have with kids, you
could just as well get some high-paying job and donate the money to hire
a manager for the school. Your dream is dead, Paul. Its been dead for a
long time.
Paul looked down at the little picnic area where they used to take
the school kids before classes got so big and budgets so tight. My God.
Paul sat on a park bench, cradling his head in his hands. How did I get
so far off track?
Joan lifted his chin. Thats the wrong question. The right
question is, how can you get back on track?
Okay, how can I get back on track?
Your dream is to help kids, right?
Paul nodded.
Well, how about instead of packing up your briefcase and rushing
off to the office, you go home and spend some time with Sandra and Jeff.
Maybe give them a ride to school. If you listen, I bet your kids will have
some good ideas.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

12 GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION

The answers simple, Daddy.
The warm sun, singing birds, and happy afterglow of rolling
around on the grass tickling each other made Paul want to believe that
his gap-toothed little daughter had the answer, but it was a struggle to
prevent laughter from spoiling the seriousness of her moment at the
podium.
In that case, Pumpkin, Ive been a dunce for waiting so long to ask
you. Whats the answer?
You got to get merpission, so you can do what you want to do.
Merpission?
She means permission, Dad, said Jeff, in between the karate
kicks he was laying into enemies seen only by him.
I need permission?
Yeth, Sandra exclaimed through the hole that was once home to
front teeth. Whenever I want to do something I want to do, I have to get
merpission. Then I can do it. So you just need to get someone to give
you merpission. Then you can stop worrying and just go play with the
kids. Like you want to do.

GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION TO

BECOME THE PERSON YOU WERE
MEANT TO BE, AND TO STOP TRYING
TO BE THE PERSON YOU THINK THAT
OTHERS EXPECT YOU TO BE.
But Pumpkin, Im a grown-up. Whos gonna give me merpission?
Sandra shrugged, cocked her head, and grinned. I dont know,
Daddy! Who tells you what to do?
Well, lots of people tell me what to do. But mostly, I guess, I do
the things that I tell myself I should do.

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JOE TYE
Jeff pirouetted a roundhouse kick in his fathers direction, missing
his head by about six inches. A quick one-two punch, then he said with
authority, Well, then, you just have to ask yourself for permission.
Ask myself for permission?
Sure! If you want to stop doing boring stuff and start doing fun
stuff, who else do you need to ask?
Deep in the back of him mind Paul thought he heard a metallic
clang, like the noise of an iron bolt being thrown open on a prison door.
Or maybe it was the sound of a spotlight switched on to sweep its rays
across all the dark places where fear hides. Was it only yesterday that
Rafe had stood on this very spot telling Pauls children that this night
they might become fatherless?
Well? Paul arranged his facial expression to convey the
seriousness with which he was considering this proposition. Dont you
think that maybe I should ask Mom for permission, too?
Oh, Daddy! Sandra jumped into Pauls lap, nearly knocking him
over, and put her jack-o-lantern smile inches from his. You know that
Mommy will give you merpission to do anything you want to do.

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

13 DREAM EMOTIONALLY, THINK RATIONALLY

Paul and Joan leaned against the Chevy and held hands as they watched
the kids run off toward their classes. Ruthie Howard, one of the moms
who volunteered at Shays Point, had agreed to open things up at Pauls
school that morning.
I dont understand you. Paul turned his eyes from the
playground equipment at his kids school that he knew hed never be
able to afford for Shays Point and looked over at Joan. One minute you
tell me to think big, and the next you tell me to be reasonable. One
minute you tell me that my only limits are self-imposed, and the next you
tell me to go easy on myself because Im only human. Why, if I didnt
love you so much, I might even accuse you of being inconsistent.
Joan smiled and yanked the short end of Pauls necktie, pulling it
tight. Well, my dear, youd be wrong. Im perfectly consistent.
How do you explain that?
Easy. You need to be emotional on the upside and rational on the
downside.
Okay, psych major, can you put that into terms a dumb lawyer
can understand?
It wont be easy, but Ill try. Lets see. Wherefore and whereas the
beginning of any difficult enterprise requires an extraordinary amount of
optimism and positive attitude, any party planning to undertake such
difficult enterprise must imbue it with emotional energy at a level for
which no rational explanation is possible. In the course of fulfilling the
difficult enterprise, however, there will be unanticipated difficulties else
wise such enterprise should not have been labeled difficult by the party
of the first place. Such difficulties also known as obstacles,
hindrances, obstructions, barriers, or setbacks may plunge the party of
the first place into a state of melancholy also known as depression
against which emotional energy and positive attitudes alone will not
prevail. In such cases the party of the first place must exercise and
practice disciplined thinking, which is based upon an objective search for
facts and sober analysis of such facts, thus and thereby preventing the
party of the first place from wallowing in unwarranted self-recrimination,
overestimating and magnitude of obstacles, and overlooking possible
alternative solutions to said difficulties. And so forth and so on.

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Very impressive, counselor! Intimidating, without informing. You
would have made a great lawyer. But can you say it in English?
Joan looked at him with a patience earned through years of
working with children. When explanation doesnt work, try example.
Thats what my mother always told me.

EFFECTIVE ENTHUSIASM IS THE

MARRIAGE OF EMOTIONAL ENERGY
AND DISCIPLINED INTELLECT. LIKE
HAVING COURAGE, WHETHER OR NOT
WE HAVE ENTHUSIASM IS A PERSONAL
CHOICE.
Rafe said that very same thing, Paul blurted out without thinking,
earning a look that notified him Joan intended to know everything about
Rafe before days end.
When we were just starting up the school, nobody believed it was
possible except you and me. And I only believed in the school because I
believed in you. If you had been what you lawyers call a reasonable man
back then, you would have listened to all those other reasonable people
and gotten a real job. But you were unreasonable because you had a
dream, a calling. You didnt have anything going for you except your
passion, your emotional commitment to this cause. Shays Point School
was built on your emotional energy, Paul. That energy turned a dream
into reality.
But reality is more complicated than dreams, and emotions arent
enough to keep things going. In fact they can be downright harmful.
Things start to go wrong, and instead of trying rationally to understand
the problem, you blame yourself. Instead of asking for help , you try to
do it all yourself, like you always have.
This morning you said we might lose everything today. That was
your emotions doing the talking. A little bit of rational thinking will show
you thats not true, and guide you toward actions you can take to keep it
from happening.
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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Paul put his hands around Joans waist and pulled her close. You
are an amazing person, you know that? And Im very lucky to have you
as a partner in this life.
Yes, you are.
Sandra told me this morning that I just need to give myself
permission to be happy. If I give myself permission to dream new
dreams, can I have yours also?
Joan smiled and touched his chin. Lets do it together.

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JOE TYE

14 ACCEPT ADVERSITY AND IT BECOMES A TEACHER

At the office Paul didnt even pull the financial reports and calculator out
of his briefcase. Joan was right: All the enthusiasm and emotional
energy in the world would not turn red ink black. Instead he drew a
straight line down the center of a legal pad. At the top of one column he
wrote the word Problem. At the top of the other he wrote Cause.
The first problem was easy: Insufficient money. In the Cause
column, Paul wrote that fewer people were contributing to the school
because so many competing charities had sprung up, all clamoring for
the shrinking donor pie.
No, thats not true, Paul thought, scratching through the words and
looking out the window at the children on the playground. The real
reason we dont have enough money is that I dont like to raise money. Id
much rather be down at the courthouse befriending a kid in trouble or
coming up with plans for a new program at the school. It makes me feel
mercenary to ask people for money, so Ive relied for too long on the
original backers. While Phyllis Nesserbaum and her type were out
courting the money, Ive been doing more pleasant things. And now Im
paying the price.

ADVERSITY IS A QUIET TEACHER.

YOU MUST PROBE IT FOR THE MEANING
IT CONTAINS, AND INTERPRET THE SUBTLE
ANSWERS WITH WHICH IT WILL RESPOND.
Paul turned back and wrote down the second problem: Failed the bank
audit. Then he set down his pen and spoke out loud. We failed the
audit because Im so disorganized as an administrator, and because I
delegated too much work to untrained volunteers without giving them
adequate supervision.
Paul entered as problem number three Not having allies in the
community. We dont have allies because Im basically a fighter, not a
bridge builder. Because Im a pretty good fighter, there are a lot of bruised
opponents out there who wouldnt mind seeing me take a fall.

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Yesterday Rafe had said that adversity is a quiet teacher; you only
learn when you ask it questions. Paul was wondering what questions he
should be asking this particular adversity when Ruthie stuck her head in
the doorway. Sorry to bother you, but theres a Phyllis Nesserbaum on
the phone for you. Should I tell her youll call her back?
No, Ill take it, Ruthie. Thanks.
Paul looked back at his list before he picked up the phone. Phyllis
Nesserbaum didnt have any of those problems because she didnt have
any of the underlying causes. Paul pictured her behind her big desk,
and felt smaller than he ever had.
Hey, Phyllis. Whats new?
Hello, Paul. I know this is awfully short notice, but if you dont
have lunch plans today, I wonder if we can get together and talk about
something?
Paul checked his watch ten thirty.
Can it wait until tomorrow? Ive got a pretty important meeting
this afternoon.
There was a long silence, followed by a voice that didnt sound like
it belonged to someone sitting behind a big desk. Look, Paul, I know we
havent always seen eye to eye youre probably laughing at the
understatement of the year. But I think we also have a lot of respect for
each other; I know I do for you. Ill level with you. I really have a
problem. I need your help. Ive got a board meeting tonight, and it
would help me a lot if we could talk before then.
Paul could hardly believe his ears. Phyllis Nesserbaum had a
problem: This should be interesting. Where do you want to meet?
How about at Francos, downtown?
Sounds good. Noon?
Super. Ill see you then. And I own you one, Paul
Well see. Take care.
Paul cradled the phone and looked back out the window at the
now-vacant playground. Then he turned back to his legal pad and drew
another line downward along the right side. At the top of this newly
created third column he wrote the word Solution. He sat for a long

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JOE TYE
time string at the page. At last he picked up his pen and in big letters
filled in the new column with the words GET HELP.

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15 OBSTACLES ARE WHAT YOU SEE WHEN YOU TAKE

YOUR EYES OFF YOUR GOALS
The bell sounded ending fourth period. Paul had about thirty minutes
before he had to leave to meet Phyllis. He looked at the telephone as if it
were a scorpion sitting on his desk. For ten years he had dreaded
making this call. It was time, though. Paul closed his eyes and took a
breath. Dear God, I know it seems like I only pray when Im in trouble.
Please be with us both during this call, and guide me to say the right
things.
Paul knew his father had been sitting in the dining room of his
apartment, because he answered the phone on the first ring. Hi, Dad.
Hey, Paul! Great to hear ya. Howre the kids?
Theyre great, Dad. Joan and I thought wed have you over for
dinner on Sunday. Its been too long.
Love to. Tell you what, Ill make one of my famous raspberry pies.
You should see how plump and juicy those berries are!

KEEP A FOCUS ON YOUR REAL GOALS

BY CREATING A MENTAL IMAGE OF
THEIR ACHIEVEMENT SO REAL AND
TANGIBLE THAT THEY BECOME
MEMORIES OF THE FUTURE.
Sounds great, Dad. The kids will love it. Listen, I cant talk long, but
Im afraid I have some bad news.
Pauls father didnt interrupt the silence, so he continued.
Things havent been too good at the school lately big time money
problems. Ive got a meeting with the bank this afternoon. I think
theyre going to foreclose the mortgage on the school. Probably the one
on the house, too. Kind of funny, huh, Dad? Here I am thirty-six years
old and still bouncing checks.
It happens. Will the bank extend you credit or let you pay

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JOE TYE
interest-only for a while?
They already did that, Dad. Im afraid were talking fiscal rigor
mortis here.
What about your big donors? Could they help? Or maybe the
public schools. You know, you really take a burden off of them. They
ought to pitch in when you need help.
Listen, Dad, its really too late. Thats all stuff I know I should
have done, or done better, a long time ago. But at two oclock the banks
gonna shut me down. And you know what? Its probably for the best.
Obstacles are what you see when you take your eyes off your
goals.
Every time it was as though Henry Fords old aphorism was a
freshly unearthed diamond. I remember the first time you told me that,
Dad. I still didnt make the track team, and Becky Johnson never went
out with me.
Those werent your goals, Paul. You went to law school and
married Joan. Those were your real goals. And now youre doing
something with your life to make a difference. That takes a lot of
courage.
Paul laughed. Sometimes, Dad, the line between courageous and
crazy is pretty fuzzy, and which side youre on is only evident in
retrospect.
Well, of course youre crazy, Paul, but you always have been.
Runs in the family. But youre also brave as hell. You know, your
mother was very proud of you. And I am, too.
I know, Dad. Thanks.
Pauls father cleared his throat, the way he always did when he
had something important to say but wasnt sure quite how to say it.
Paul waited, not terribly displeased at the prospect of being late for
Phyllis Nesserbaum. He had a good excuse.
When your mother was ill, we decided to put her life insurance
proceeds into a rainy-day fund. Its not very much. It was twenty-five
thousand dollars four years ago, and to tell the truth I havent looked at
a statement since, but its something higher than that now. Sounds to
me like youve got weather problems at the school.

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Paul couldnt remember the last time he had cried. Yeah, Dad,
the roofs leaking pretty bad.
You still at First National?
At least until two oclock.
Okay. Im gonna call Burt right now and have him make the
transfer into your account so that its there by two. I hope the weather
clears up soon.

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JOE TYE

16 DONT GO IT ALONE
Pauls elation barely lasted till he got out of the parking lot. His father
had bailed him out, but even so, within a few months hed be back in the
same boat. Worse, he would be living with a sense of obligation that he
might never be able to pay off.
Francos was a cozy Italian place near the college. It was a popular
spot for business lunches because the food was good, and it was one of
the few places downtown that was quiet enough for you to have a serious
conversation. Phyllis was already there at a window table.
They both ordered iced tea and the daily special. Phyllis spoke
first. Marty Weatherford tells me you play racquetball. We should play
sometime.
I play, but Im not very good at it.
Thats not what Marty says.
How do you know Marty?
Before he joined First National, he was my banker at Bank-Star.
Nice guy, isnt he?
What else did he tell you about me, or my school? Paul wanted to
ask. Were both on tight schedules, so we should probably get down to
business.
Phyllis cleared her throat and twisted her wedding ring. It was the
first time hed noticed it, but he was certain that Phyllis, the master
networker, knew his wifes birthday, and probably even her shoe size.
You might already know that our recent fund-raising campaign
was very successful.
That hurts. Paul smiled.
Im sorry, I didnt mean it to be invidious. The truth is, sometimes
having too much money can bring even bigger problems than not having
enough.
Id sure like to find out. Do you suppose the Community
Foundation would give me a grant to study the problem of having too
much money?
Phyllis smiled. Why not?

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NEVER FEAR, NEVER QUIT

Paul returned the smile. What shall we call it? How about A
Proposal to Study the Effects of Unearned Affluence on Middle-Aged
Males?
Phyllis shook her head, still smiling. Just because you dont have
it doesnt mean you havent earned it. Lifes not always fair that way.
The waiter laid out their spaghetti, and Paul ate while Phyllis talked.
Part of the reason weve been so successful with our fund-raising
is that weve got some new people on our board, real movers and
shakers. They want a new vision, big plans for the future. Theyre really
pushing me on it. You know, Im a pretty good manager, and I really love
what I do. But I also know my limits. Im not a visionary leader. I leave
that for people like you.

SIMPLIFY YOUR LIFE BY DOING WHAT

YOURE GOOD AT AND GETTING HELP
FOR WHAT YOURE NOT GOOD AT.
Paul twirled his spaghetti. Well, Im not sure if Im a visionary leader,
but lately Ive also been learning a lot about my limitations. For example,
Im a damn lousy manager.
You want my honest opinion, Paul? Watching you try to manage
that school is like watching someone buy a Ferrari and then use it to
drive to the corner market. I know you love those kids, but for you to be
balancing the checkbook is a waste of God-given talent. You inspire
people, Paul, and you have vision. The worlds got plenty of managers.
We need more leaders. There are plenty of troubled kids to go around.
We ought to be working together, not fighting all the time.
What do you have in mind?
Well, its just an idea, but if we created a new corporation to
oversee both school, perhaps we could complement each other. I can
run the business side, and you can go back to being a visionary and an
activist. I think my board would go for it if you agree.
Paul stabbed at the lemon in his iced tea with a straw. So what
do you want to tell your board tonight?

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JOE TYE
Only that you and I talked and, if you agree, that youre open to
exploring the possibilities.
Paul thought about what Rafe had told him, how ignorance breed
fear and fear creates enemies. Tell your board that Im not only open to
exploring the possibilities, Im excited about it.

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17 A LUCKY COIN IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT

Paul watched Phyllis walk down the street and wondered at the fact that
after all these years of competing with each other she had called today.
Her board-meeting crisis and his bank-meeting crisis had brought them
together. Who knows? Perhaps shed had a visit from Rafe as well. Paul
recalled one of Buddhas sayings: To be awake is to be amazed all the
time.
It was only one thirty, so Paul took the long way around to the lot
where hed parked. As he walked along Main street, the feeling of deja vu
that had pervaded his whole day became almost overwhelming. It
climaxed when he looked down a dark alleyway. Just past a big blue
garbage Dumpster a man was stretched out on the ground under a
makeshift blanket of newspapers. Pauls head spun with the odor of
garbage; there was no mistaking that hed been here before. The
alcoholic was sound asleep, empty bottle not far from his head, just as it
had been in the dream. Paul watched the wall for a moment; when no
picture appeared, he knelt and softly stroked the mans cheek. He knew
that if he walked on down the alley, hed see an old man and a little boy
waiting at the bus stop; he also knew there was no need to go look.
Back out on Main Street Paul stopped at a newsstand for a
chocolate bar. It was one forty-five. He stepped into a phone booth and
dialed. Mr. Weatherfords office, please. . . . Hi, this is Paul Peterson.
Would you please let Marty know that Ill be about fifteen minutes late.
Apologize for me, but Ive been unavoidably detained. Thanks. Oh,
sorry, one more thing. Could you check some account balances for me?
Paul read his account numbers into the receiver and waited for a
moment. Then he smiled and instructed that money be transferred into
his two mortgage accounts and a receipt be given to Mr. Weatherford
prior to their meeting.
The whole time he talked on the phone, his eyes never left the
entrance to the alley. In his dream they had been running late for the
bank meeting. He recalled the dashboard clock reading one fifty-six
when Rafe stopped time for their alleyway sojourn. Paul unwrapped his
chocolate bar and leaned against a lamppost. It was one fifty-one. A
police car coming down Main street slowed at the alleys entrance, then
accelerated past. Paul took a bite of chocolate.
He never saw the car. Not really. The image just sort of hung

55

JOE TYE
there in the back of his eyes, like the psychedelic fantasies that float by
in the aftermath of a camera flash. Frozen car, frozen driver, two lines of
frozen motion in the alleyway, then nothing. Gone. Just a fading flash
at the back of the retinas. Or a figment of the frontal lobes. No telling
which. Had he been watching himself watching himself? Or buzzing out
on chocolate? No telling.

WHETHER SOMETHING IS A RANDOM

COINCIDENCE OR A MEANINGFUL
CONNECTION DEPENDS UPON HOW
YOU CHOOSE TO INTERPRET IT.
One thing Paul had grown to believe during his ten years of working with
Shays Point school was this: There is no such thing as a coincidence.
Things always happen for a reason. Too many times the phone had rung
at just the right moment, the caller offering just what he needed to keep
it all together, for him to write it off to blind luck. It is only blind if you
arent looking for the connections.
Serendipity. The knack for making neat discoveries without
planning to. I might not be able to manage a shoeshine stand, Paul
thought, but Ive got serendipity. He smiled at the thought, but it was
true. He trusted his luck. And the more he trusted his luck, the less he
had to rely upon it. No matter what happened, things would always
work out for the best. What was it Rafe had said with faith fear
becomes an ally.
Paul stopped at his car door. There on the ground at his feet was a
coin. He leaned over and picked up a silver dollar.
What sign might a guardian angel leave to signify that youre on
the right track? What if it were a guardian angel who knew that the
main thing preventing you from achieving some important goal was the
fear of running out of money?
Rafe had been there.

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18 TAKE YOUR PURPOSE SERIOUSLY

It was already two fifteen when Paul wheeled into the banks parking
ramp. There was a line of cars in front of him, inching its way forward
like a caterpillar on a tree, stopping to explore every fresh opening.
Fifteen minutes later Paul had reached the top and was coming back
down. Then a space beckoned him, big and wide right there by the
door. He pulled in over the wheelchair painted on the asphalt. It was
almost half an hour later than it had been in the dream maybe the
parking enforcers had already made their rounds and he would escape
the ticket.
Paul punched the button for the elevator then, knowing it would be
full, decided not to wait and ran down the stairs. He pushed open the
door and found himself in the back alley as the door closed behind him
with an authoritative snap. Damn it, Rafe, dreams are supposed to be
anatomically correct! What the hell am I doing in the alley? A man
peered out from behind a Dumpster at the yelling, then darted back
when Paul glared in his direction.
Paul was mid-alley. Either way he was going to have to walk
halfway around the building to get to the front door. With a resigned
sigh, he started walking. He couldnt avoid being late, but he could at
least enjoy the walk.
Hi. Paul Peterson, here to see Marty Weatherford.
Yes, Mr. Peterson, hes expecting you. Come on back. Sarah
thats what the plaque on her desk named the lady guarding the door to
the administration offices rose and shook Pauls hand.
You mean hes not in the big conference room?
Excuse me?
Um, never mind. I just thought with all the lawyers and
everything wed need a bigger room.
As far as I know, Mr. Peterson, youre the only lawyer whos going
to be here.
Marty Weatherford came out from his office to greet them in the
hall. He squashed Pauls hand and dragged him toward his office. Hey,
buddy, its been too long. Weve got to get out on the courts again soon.
If you get too rusty, I might even be able to beat you.

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JOE TYE
Paul laughed as he sat in one of Martys leather armchairs. Marty
played racquetball the way he had wrestled in college, where he ranked
nationally. Paul was lucky to get a few points per game.
Thanks for sending me the receipt on those mortgage balances. I
tell you what, the loan committee meets on Friday and I was sweating
what to tell them about my friend who only gets around to making his
mortgage payments every three months or so. Marty laughed again, but
even more than when they were on the racquetball court, Paul sensed
how intimidating it must have been to face Marty on the wrestling mat.

IF YOU DONT TAKE YOUR PURPOSE

SERIOUSLY, HOW CAN YOU EXPECT
THAT ANYONE ELSE WILL?
Listen to me, Paul. Marty was no longer smiling. Ive got to talk to you
now, not as your friend or your racquetball partner but as your banker.
You know, you just cant run that school like some kids lemonade stand
anymore. Ive never seen an audit report come back with so many
management recommendations. Youre just asking for trouble, running
things so higgledy-piggledy like that. For cryin out loud, you dont even
have your finances on a computer, man. Did you, like, miss the turnoff
for the 1990's or something?
Paul felt Rafes silver dollar through his pocket. What was the
lesson here? Where was the connection? I never made any money on
lemonade stands when I was a kid, and I guess on that score not much
has changed. Maybe Im missing a gene or something.
Well, youd better find it pretty quick. Or find some other way to
compensate for it. Marty still wasnt smiling. Paul felt the fear of a
weaker opponent being stalked by a champion. Paul, what youre doing
is important. Really important. Too important to let fail because youre
not willing to manage it.
Most people in this world just have jobs, Paul. Look at me. I
come in here every day and loan people money, and when they dont pay
it back, I break their kneecaps. Marty smiled and Paul smiled, but they
both knew he wasnt trying to be funny. But youve got a calling. And
with a calling comes an extra responsibility to take it seriously.
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My sisters kid got mixed up in drugs. Got kicked out of school.
They came home one day and found him shot dead. Nice kid, not much
older than your Jeffie. Shot dead! Youre doing a good thing at that
school, a noble thing. But if youre going to do it, Paul, please do it right.
You wont help anyone if you go under.
Paul regarded his racquetball nemesis. There was a tender spot
under that wrought-iron exterior, which hed never seen before. What
do you suggest, Marty?
You cant do it all on your own, man. Get some help. Marty
pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Paul.
Give Butch a call. Hes a retired accountant, done a lot of work auditing
nonprofit organization like yours. Now hes just doing some volunteer
work to keep busy. I took the liberty of speaking with him. He supports
your cause and wants to help.
They made a date for a racquetball game, and Paul turned to leave.
Catching Sarahs bemused stare out of the corner of his eye as he walked
through the anteroom, he remarked, Hes really an alright guy when
hes not surrounded by lawyers, isnt he?
In the parking lot there was a seventy-five-dollar ticket under his
windshield wiper. Thanks for the silver dollar, Rafe. Now I just need
seventy-four more.
Paul smiled as he stuck the ticket in his pocket. Nothing was
going to ruin his day.

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JOE TYE

19 COMMITMENT IS THE FOUNDATION OF

PERSEVERANCE
It hardly seemed like a year had passed since Pauls crisis with the bank,
his meeting Rafe, and setting off on a whole new direction with the
school. Perhaps Rafe had been right about the relativity of time the
train was certainly moving faster these days.
Pauls Chevy crunched across the gravel parking lot, then
sputtered into silence after he turned off the ignition. It was one year ago
to the day that he had last walked up the hill before him, one year ago
that he had met Rafe. Looking at the Chevys odometer, which he had
pushed well into six figures with his travels over the past year, Paul
wondered if the old hulk would be up for another backward race through
time.
The door creaked open against Pauls shove and he climbed out.
His own creaking joints reminded him that he was holding up hardly any
better than the car. The park was deserted, just as it had been a year
ago. As he trudged up the hill, Paul could see that the impending sunset
would, if anything, be more spectacular than the one into which he had
jumped one year earlier.

ESPECIALLY OVER THE LONG TERM,

YOU CAN DO MORE THAN YOU THINK
YOU CAN DO. DONT CHEAT YOURSELF
BY ACCEPTING ANEMIC GOALS.
It had not been just a dream, of that Paul was sure. At the crest of the
hill he hesitated. He had long pondered where he would go first
straight ahead to the edge of the cliff, or off to the right toward the spot
where he and Rafe had first spoken. Standing quietly with his hands
clasped in front of him, Paul waited to see if he felt pulled in either
direction. As the sun touched the western horizon, he walked to the edge
of the cliff.
So much had happened since he last stood on this spot. They had
gone ahead with the merger of his school and New Trails, and Paul had
given up routine administrative responsibilities. Phyllis had helped to
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secure a large donation to be used for developing the philosophies and
practices Paul had pioneered at Shays Point into a package that could be
implemented in other communities. For the past six months he had
been traveling almost nonstop selling the concept and helping people
start it up.
The Miracle of the Leap, as Paul and Joan now called his
experience with Rafe, had not eliminated stress and anxiety from his life.
Far from it the demands of creating a national program were heavier
than any he had ever known. He most regretted that his travel schedule
kept him from spending as much time as he wanted with his family.
But he had learned to overcome the doubt that before the Miracle
of the Leap made his life so miserable. Now when he did have time with
his family, he never felt guilty for not being at work. Having more clearly
defined his personal mission helped him avoid spending time on things
that werent really important. And his new vision, in which someday
troubled kids everywhere would have a place to go and someone to be on
their side, crowded out the nagging voices that reminded him of
everything else he wasnt doing.
He had given himself permission to dream a big dream and then to
work hard to make it come true. Along the way he had been helped by
many new and unexpected friends. Although his frequent travel took
him from his family more than he wished, the quest in which they all
believed had also brought them closer together.
Paul took a step closer to the edge and looked down. The sea was
more turbulent than it had been a year ago, and the waves crashed over
the rock upon which he had been broken. A part of him was still down
there the part that had once thought he could make it on his own. The
part, he smiled to think, that had once looked down its long, arrogant
nose at people who, he believed, had money but no meaning.
The sun was halfway set, sending a perfectly symmetrical spray of
silver needles into a crimson sky. Paul wanted to step back away from
the edge, but was rooted in place, mesmerized by an inner voice daring
him to fall forward, to put Rafe to the test. Its a beautiful evening for
flying, it mocked, and a part of Paul longed for the exhilaration of free fall
into a web of faith.
Defying the voice, Paul made an uneventful trip to Rafes meeting
place. From there he watched the sun take its final bow, knowing that

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he would never again see it rise from that spot. Above, in just the place
it had been a year ago, the prick of light that he called Rafe-Star began to
emerge, and Pauls thoughts went out to Jack OMara.
One of the first things he did after the Miracle of the Leap was to
hire Jack as a custodian for the school. But with Pauls consent, six
months later Phyllis fired him for coming to school drunk for the third
time. Jack was not yet ready for his miracle.
Paul pulled a battered index card from his shirt pocket. It held the
notes he made right after his day with Rafe:

Caring is the root of courage.

Courage is the fuel of commitment.
Commitment is the foundation of perseverance.
Perseverance is the agent of change.
Tonight Paul would be giving a speech at the first national meeting of
New Trails School Systems. Phyllis, he thought with a smile, had even
come up with a better name than he had, which they agreed to use for
the new corporation. Paul was going to talk about Rafe, and about he
Miracle of the Leap.
The podium stood under a huge banner that read:

NEVER FEAR,
NEVER QUIT
As Paul heard himself being introduced and looked out at the expectant
audience, he momentarily wished that Rafe would appear and rescue
him from having to go on stage. Public speaking petrified him; the
largest audience he had heretofore addressed fit comfortably in the
Shays Point auditorium. Joan gave him an encouraging squeeze; Rafe
would not save him now.
Conquering fear was getting easier all the time. Paul looked this
particular fear in the face, named it the universal worry that your pants
will fall down right up there in front of all those people, and stepped up
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to the podium.
Those of you who know me well know that since I was a young
man which right now feels like it was a very long time ago there has
been a spot that holds a special place in my heart. From Shays Point
you can see a sunset like youll never see anywhere else. But not many
people go there, because the road is long and rocky, and out on the point
its usually cold and windy. When Joan and I started the school, though,
there was no question we would call it Shays Point.
A little over a year ago I went up to Shays Point planning to jump
off the edge. I had been so blinded by my own worries and insecurities
that it seemed there was no way out except down. I hope, my friends,
that you will not think less of me for it, but jumping off the cliff onto the
rocks below Shays Point that evening saved me.
There was an awful stillness in the room, as if Paul had just
announced that he had a dread disease and everyone was wondering
whether they had gotten close enough to catch it.
Never Fear, Never Quit. Paul gathered up his courage to continue.
He told the whole story. Unedited and unadulterated. How he had
been defeated by his own fear and yet, from the wreckage of failure, was
rescued by a power far beyond his understanding, much less his control.
Why he no longer felt so certain about the nature of reality, and how in
any event reality did not really seem so real anymore, now that he knew
how malleable it was in the hands of a master like Rafe. And that being
broken on the rocks below Shays Point allowed him to be rebuilt in a
stronger and more functional shape, although with fewer fragile
adornments.
As he spoke, the appalled silence softened. Understanding nods
here and there throughout the audience told him that he was not the
only one who had experienced Rafes intervention.
How big my family has become now that I do not judge people
through the distorting lens of my own fears.
As the audience rose in applause, Paul waved Joan up to the stage to
join him. In the back of the room he saw The One he had not seen in a
year smile and nod, then turn and walk through the closed door.

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20 MIRACLES ARE MADE TO BE SHARED

Paul Peterson felt no sadness as he looked down upon the ceremony. It
was a beautiful June day, bedecked with butterflies and serenaded by
birds. Off in the distance the cries of happy children vivified the circle of
life. A soft breeze blew in from the ocean, drifted over Shays Point, and
rustled new leaves on the cemeterys old oak trees.
Joan looked so diminutive, standing there between Jeff and
Sandra, leaning against her walking cane, but to Paul she had never
appeared more beautiful. He now knew what she could only believe: that
the two of them had always been together, would always be together, and
that she, too, would soon transcend the confines of earthly time and they
would soar together above the tracks, seeing past and future, sunshine
and tunnels, all at once.
Jeff stood tall and grim, so much like his father had been at
midlife. Not so long ago Paul had stood between Jeff and Joan for the
funeral of Jeffs youngest son. Jeffs faith was now being challenged in a
way Pauls never was. Paul had learned much, but did not yet
understand why he would be reunited with Jonathan before the boys
father was.

WHATEVER YOU MOST NEED IN LIFE,

THE BEST WAY FOR YOU TO GET IT IS
TO HELP SOMEONE ELSE GET IT WHO
NEEDS IT EVEN MORE THAN YOU DO.
To Joans right stood Sandra, at once a grown woman with a family of
her own and the gap-toothed imp who had given Paul merpission to
dream new dreams. Now a successful writer, Sandra had always given
herself permission to follower own path, and had never flinched nor
faltered during her times of doubt and adversity.
Paul had occasionally wondered what would be said about him at
his funeral, and in fact had often asked his students to write their own
obituaries as part of a goal-setting exercise. Now, though, the words held
no interest for him and were lost to the breeze.

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The wind picked up, causing the images below to gradually lose
their separate identity and meld together. Paul simultaneously felt
himself merging into the scene below and being pulled upward.
Its a beautiful evening for flying, isnt it?
Rafe looked exactly as he had on that day nearly fifty years ago
when he had plucked Paul from the air below Shays Point. Paul
wondered whether he, too, appeared as he had that day, or as a newborn
infant, or as an old man. Whatever it was, he knew, was an illusion soon
to change.
Youll see everyone again, my dear old friend, but its time now for
you and me to move on. The funeral faded away as Paul and his old
friend flew off toward the distant mountains, at last landing upon an
eyrie that seemed to overlook this half of the universe.
Paul felt no need to talk in the presence of his friend as they sat
together looking out across the world. Finally Rafe spoke. In his lap he
held a simple unadorned box. Youve done well, Paul; youve written a
lovely story, one that will be read for a long time to come.
Paul shook his head. I didnt write any stories, Rafe, though I
may have told a tale or two. Sandra is the writer of the family.
Rafe smiled and opened the box. Inside, Paul could see a book in a
soft leather cover. Rafe cradled his hands under it, as though he were
lifting a baby eagle out of its nest. As Rafe extended the book toward
him, Paul read the words inscribed on the front:

THE PRINCIPLES OF
COURAGE AND PERSEVERANCE
by Paul Peterson

As he caressed the cover, a thousand memories raced through Pauls

mind; the same compression of reality he had experienced in the fall
from Shays Point, but without the terror. He gently lifted the cover and
read the first heading:

Caring Is the Root of Courage

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Though Paul did not remember having written the lessons, they were
clearly part of his story; over a lifetime they were the principles he had
learned and had taught to many.
You are not finished with your teaching, my friend.
I hope not, Rafe. It would be unfortunate if everyone had to learn
these lessons from scratch.
Rafe laughed with the deep, rich tenor that had once led Paul to
expect to see Moses. Paul, the universe is very efficient. Nothing is ever
wasted, especially not the lessons of life. Its been said on earth that
when the student is ready to learn, a teacher appears. And I believe that
your first student is nearly ready. So we had better hurry up and teach
you to fly on your own at least better than you did at Shays Point.
Paul felt the weight of the book suddenly leave his hands and,
looking down, saw that there were no hands there at all.
Its really quite easy, Paul. Stretch your wings, lean forward into
the wind, and give a little push with your legs.
Paul tried to respond, but could only make a shrill squawking
noise.
Dont worry. Your voice will come back to you when you need it
again. Now, follow me.
Paul was amazed at how precisely he could see the finest details of
the eagle perched beside him, and at how clearly every distant tree and
stone appeared on the periphery of his vision.
Rafe squawked at Paul, spread his wings, and pushed off into the
wind. As he watched his old friend silhouetted against the setting sun,
Paul realized that he would not need lessons to learn to fly.
Paul Peterson spread his new wings and leaned forward into the
sunset.
The eagle soared down from the North Rim along Bright Angel
Creek. Paul had never seen the Grand Canyon so fresh and green.
Gliding up and down the Canyon walls, from the dark metamorphic
stone near the river to the sandstones and limestones higher up the
towering cliffs, he could see the unfolding of over a billion years of the
earths history.
At the junction of Bright Angel Creek and the Colorado River, he
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wheeled to the east and soared out over the Tonto Plateau, freshly
watered blackbrush giving it the hue of a green chalkboard. Catching an
updraft, he rocketed up and over Zoroaster Temple, in his mind the most
sacred of all the Canyons rock cathedrals, and then spiraled down
around its flanks, chasing off a pair of ravens. Playing out the wind, he
kited eastward along the river all the way to Marble Canyon, then
wheeled back around, flying into the setting sun.
No human had ever seen the Canyon this way, and none ever
would. Paul longed to stay a little longer, to watch the suns setting
transform the Canyon into a living sculpture. But his sharp eyes saw
the gray pickup truck pull into the parking lot at Lipan Point and come
to a stop fifty feet short of the guardrail.
Paul raced the wind as the sun approached the horizon. Although
he was still nearly a mile from the point, he saw white smoke belching
out of the trucks tail pipes and, inside, the drivers arm moving as he
put it into gear.
At the moment the sun kissed the earth, the trucks tires started to
spin, blowing off a gale of white smoke. They caught with a shriek, and
the truck lurched forward and bounced over the curb. As it smashed
through the railing and hung suspended, Paul saw the look on the
drivers face through the side window, grim and determined. In the seat
next to him, invisible to human eyes but now, finally, evident to Paul,
was the ghost of fear, every bit as hideous as hed ever imagined.
The pickup quickly lost its forward momentum and the hood
turned downward. It fell free for several seconds before the front bumper
caught on a rock outcropping, yanking the headlights in toward the
Canyon wall and flipping the truck bed outward. The somersault
slammed the roof into the rock wall, crushing it flat; on the second roll
the bed broke away from the cab, rupturing the fuel tanks. Though it
seemed to Paul that the sparks floated in the air forever before igniting
the gasoline, he knew it was only microseconds.
The flaming wreckage avalanched its way past hundreds of
millions of years of rock creation before landing in a pyre of metal and
rubber far below the dangling guardrail of Lipan Point.
Even at his altitude high above the wreckage, Paul could feel the
updrafts being created by the inferno four thousand feet and 500 million
years below. He spiraled around the billowing black plume as he waited

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for the miracle to begin.
It wasnt obvious when time reversed its course. Hed expected to
feel some sort of wrenching sensation, like when hed rejoined his own
physical body after the leap off Shays Point. But the first indication was
the sight of people running backward away from the guardrail. The
black smoke stopped its upward drift and slowly started to work its way
back down toward the truck.
Paul swooped up over the parking lot, not having any desire to get
closer to the truck in its present condition, and landed in a pine tree.
Presently he heard a horrible grinding noise coming closer and closer,
and then the tail end of the pickup exploded back through the guardrail,
pulling the splintered pieces back into place as it came, engine gunning
and tires squealing.
Then it was totally silent.
The sun was barely above the horizon, and frozen in place. Paul
gingerly climbed out of the tree, glad that in solidified time no one saw
the clumsiness of the human body that felt so burdensome compared
with the efficient feathered frame waiting for him in the tree.
John Parker was standing near the guardrail, about fifty feet from
where his truck would soon go barreling by. His hair blowing in the wind
was the only movement on the frozen landscape; his image sat behind
the wheel of the truck, unaware of the ghost of fear at his side.
Paul felt the light breeze coming from the west, opposite its
direction when time was moving forward. Rafe had promised him that
his voice would come back when he needed it. Never fear, never quit.
Paul placed his hand on John Parkers shoulder.
Its a beautiful evening for flying, isnt it?

THE END

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