Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 4-29-05

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Dear Reader,

I love to hear from you. Thanks for taking the time to write. I realize how busy you are.

From my Email Bag:

"Suzanne, I am a senior citizen, one of a growing number of women who have outlived their husbands by a few years. My daughter sent me a little book last week, 'Shedding Years: Growing Older, Feeling Younger,' by Phyllis Greene. It's a one-night read, but tells the story of women left alone after their spouse has died and the problems an older woman has to face. Thanks."--June R.

"Dear Suzanne, Your personal quips bring a smile to my lips and sometimes even an audible chuckle. You are so comfortable with who you are to share those little personal tidbits...whether making potholders or drinking milk from a jug. I really am enjoying you...From one who enjoys writing ads, verse, marketing materials....and other "stuff." THANK YOU!"--Rich

"Hi Suzanne, just wanted to recommend a couple of books: "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," by Betty Smith and "Plain Truth," by Jodi Piccoult. Both excellent reads!"-- Autumn

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
www.DearReader.com
Suzanne@DearReader.com

P.S. Mother's Day is just a week away. I'm giving my mother a book of poetry, Motherhood: Poems About Mothers (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets). And I have 10 copies to giveaway to readers. Just send me an email and you're entered in the drawing. On second thought, include a few notes about your mother--and then keep a copy and give it to her. You'll make her day.

Dear Reader Column 4-28-05

Join my email book club. Over 280,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I had two chickens roasting in the oven when my husband suggested that we drive to our favorite fishing spot, that's a little over an hour away from where we live.

"Fifteen more minutes," I told him, "and the chickens will be done.
In the meantime, let's get things ready to go."

"Always be prepared." That's our motto. It must be, because when we're deciding what to take with us for a simple afternoon of relaxation and fun, we load up our BMW as if we're going on a two-week-long journey into an isolated, barren, country that has no electricity, or indoor plumbing, and no way to get supplies; so anything we need, we have to bring with us.

And we did. Because when we were finally driving down the road--55 minutes later (that's how long it took us to pack-up-and-get-
out-of-Dodge,)--I surveyed the inside of the car, and I was amazed at the number of items that we felt the need to bring along with us.

A portable CD player, batteries, writing notebooks, prescription pills, tennis shoes, a roll of paper towels, a map (just in case we decided to head somewhere else), a jacket and a sweatshirt, four books, sun screen, bottled water, a camera, a beach chair, tackle box, bait keeper, a "Time" magazine, the Sunday paper, my coffee mug, hand lotion, and a cooler filled with: dried fruit; ice tea; power bars; two hard-boiled eggs; two oranges; and pistachios. Our two fishing poles were in the back seat, sticking up in between my husband and I in the front, with the hooked ends resting on our dashboard. And finally, some change so we'd have toll money when we went across the Skyway Bridge.

Four hours of prep work and driving time, two hours of relaxation--I think my husband and I need to read that 80/20 Principle book one more time.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-27-05

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Dear Reader,

I've spent the better part of the day looking for patience, but I just can't find it anywhere.

The people around me today all seem determined to do things the long, drawn out way. Even their "yeas" and "nays" are long-winded. Patience, where is patience?

'Cut to the chase,' that's what I'm thinking. She tells me something once--I get the drift--but she continues on, "Let me explain what I mean." Oh, dear. I don't think I can take it much longer.

Patience, can't you hear me calling you? I really need patience.

I hate it when I feel like this. Agitated, irritated. This is so unlike me. I listen with a smile, but inside I'm thinking, 'No, oh please, no. Don't explain, I got it the first time around.'

Patience, what happened to patience?

I don't understand. It was right by my side yesterday. Did it go on vacation--get a great rate on Orbitz? Or maybe patience took a personal day? (Have fun, wish I was there.)

So what does this leave me with?

No patience.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

P.S. Mother's Day is just a week away. I'm giving my mother a book of poetry, Motherhood: Poems About Mothers (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets). And I have 10 copies to giveaway to readers. Just send me an email and you're entered in the drawing. On second thought, include a few notes about your mother--and then keep a copy and give it to her. You'll make her day.

Dear Reader Column 4-26-05

Join my email book club. Over 280,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/">http://www.dearreader.com/</a></b>

Dear Reader,

When I was a young girl, we lived next door to Dellabella's, the Buick dealership in town. Unbeknownst to the owner, Mr. Dellabella, he was one of my first business mentors. The first business I ever owned was a lemonade stand, and he allowed me to sell my lemonade to the mechanics who worked for him, and occasionally even to some of his car-buying customers.

It was a simple beginning, a card table, a sign made out of construction paper, styrofoam cups, a Red Flyer wagon for deliveries, and some lemonade. But nevertheless, I learned a lot about the ins and outs of business--the first lesson, networking.

Having a contact on the "inside" can help launch a business, and no doubt about it, it made mine a success. My father worked as a mechanic at the Buick dealership, so it wasn't too difficult to sell my lemonade to his fellow co-workers on a hot summer day. It wasn't easy to resist my ice cold drinks, my smile and my enthusiasm. They were my regular, repeat, customers. It was a booming business for an eight year old. I have fond memories of my lemonade stand, so when I saw two young girls standing behind their lemonade stand the other day, I just had to stop.

I was really quite impressed. The girls had a real sense of style and merchandising. Bright, yellow, lemon slices were neatly lined up in a row on a cutting board. Tall, slender, glasses surrounded a pitcher of lemonade in a semi-circle. (The pitcher was just there for effect--the "sizzle". The real stuff was in a cooler, hidden away underneath the lace tablecloth that covered a card table.) They were even selling "add-ons"--blueberry muffins were showcased on top of a white china plate. And two smiling faces were standing tall behind their "counter" eagerly waiting to serve customers.

"What a nice lemonade stand." I told them. "How much is your lemonade?"

"Four dollars," one of the girls quickly told me, and her business partner chimed in, "and the muffins are three dollars and fifty cents each."

Oh my. This was a first for me. My initial thought was, 'I'm not sure I have that much cash on me. I may have to drive to an automatic teller machine.' And my next thought--when I came to my senses--and looked around at the expensive homes that surrounded me was, 'Obviously I've ventured into the high rent district. This must be the Rodeo Drive version of a lemonade stand.'

I wonder if they'll take my Starbucks card?

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

P.S. Ah, yes, Mother's Day is just a week away. I'm giving my mother a book of poetry, "Motherhood: Poems About Mothers" (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets). And I have 10 copies to giveaway to readers. Just send me an email and you're entered in the drawing. On second thought, include a few notes about your mother--and then keep a copy and give it to her. You'll make her day.

Dear Reader Column 4-25-05

Join my email book club. Over 280,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

My mother's on my mind. Ah, yes, Mother's Day is just a week away. This year I'm giving my mother a book of poetry, Motherhood: Poems About Mothers (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets) and I think I'll slip a copy of this column into the book, too.

I searched for a card, read almost every single one in the stand, but I just couldn't find the right one to give to my mother. None of them talked about the little things that she did when I was young that have given me wonderful, whimsical memories. My mother used to work at the local Five and Dime. I know it's a silly thing, but whenever I think about that, I see her in the back room of the store, surrounded by Easter grass, baskets, toy shovels and colored eggs. My mother always made up all of the premade baskets that the store sold. She was everybody's Easter Bunny when you really think about it.

Not one single card I read would tell my mother that I recognize she's instilled in me the knowledge that I can do anything--anything--I put my mind to. If there's a will--and she's always had plenty of that--there's a way. I know because I learned it from her.

None of the prewritten sentiments would let her know that I now realize the list of chores she left me to do every Saturday was a good thing, because today I know how to cook, clean and make a house a home. All because of my mother. (I love you Mom.)

Don't forget your mom, and to help you remember, I'm giving away 10 copies of Motherhood: Poems About Mothers. It's a small book, just the perfect size to slip underneath that fancy ribbon that you're going to tie around her gift.

Just send me an email and you're entered in the drawing. On second thought, include a few notes about your mother--and then keep a copy and give it to her. You'll make her day.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-22-05

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Dear Reader,

I was driving in my car last Saturday afternoon and when I turned on the radio, there was a live concert version of the song Oh, Won't You Stay, Just a Little Bit Longer playing. I don't know who the group was, but they were rockin' and I was enjoying it a lot. The signal wasn't very strong though, so there was some occasional static noise to deal with. Somehow I had tuned into a derelict station--a kind of signal squatter--on the dial.

I didn't want to mess with the dial and try to make the reception clearer, because I knew from past experience that if I tried to make it better, I just might make it worse--or I could lose the signal altogether.

That situation got me to thinking that perhaps I should make that decision more often in my life. Sometimes I should just leave "well enough" alone.

There are some things in life that are best learned on our own--trial and error--from our own personal experiences. And until we each figure out how to tune in, until we find our own place on life's dial, most of us are probably not taking any hurt. What we're doing or how we're doing it is most likely good enough. And who knows--someone, somewhere, may even be rockin' from our "good enough". (Reprinted from July, 2002)

Have a wonderful weekend.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-21-05

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Dear Reader,

I've only had two garage sales in my life, and the first-time out I was a real novice. People warned me that customers might show up an hour before I was open for business, so I put 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. on my signs. Who would think of showing up any earlier?

My doorbell rang at 5:45 in the morning. "I work the night shift at the hospital," she said. "I saw the sign and knew if I didn't stop now, that I'd never get back here today. How much is that blender on the table over there? Gee, did I get you up?"

My second garage sale was really a house sale. It was in the middle of winter in Wisconsin--five foot high snow drifts surrounded my garage door. My husband and I were driving to Florida in a U-Haul, we were moving to Sarasota and our oldest son was engineering our moving sale.

When we telephoned from the road to see how things were going, we could hardly hear our son, because there was so much noise in the background. He had adopted an emergency "take a number" system, because there were 40 people lined up outside our house waiting to get in, and there were just as many shoppers inside--including two women, who at the moment, were fighting over my old cookie jar.

We didn't have shopping carts so people made little piles of "my stuff" in the corners. But then thievery broke out and bargain-hunters started shoplifting from each others piles of goodies.

Just another typical dead of winter, cabin fever, garage sale.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-20-05

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Dear Reader,

I'm usually a quick study, but this two-people-facing-off thing, their arms moving up and down, each calling out in a syncopated beat, "Rock, Paper, Scissors"--I've never understood it. And I've never asked, because I didn't want to look foolish.

Why wouldn't you always just make a fist on that third downward swing of your arm? Why would you want to be anything else, but a rock? A rock would pulverize anything. Scissors cuts paper and paper just sits there. So wouldn't paper always come in last?

Okay nothing ventured...no chance of looking stupid...so I took the risk. I asked. And do you know what? I pestered seven people before I found a woman who would explain it to me, although I did have to endure her, 'It's so obvious, why would you even ask me' look, before she rattled off, "Rock smashes Scissors, Scissors cut Paper, and Paper covers Rock."

But I argued the paper covering the rock concept didn't work for me. I mean, it seems like the rock could just sit on top of the paper and hold it down--like I used to do to the skinny boy, who lived next door to us, when I was a kid.

Now, the woman was looking at me like I was as dumb-as-a-rock.

Yeah, I know. I'm way overthinking the whole thing. I think I'll stick to drawing straws.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-19-05

Join my email book club. Over 280,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

Have fun at the book club. Remember, there aren't any reading rules. You don't have to finish what you start. If a book isn't a good match for you, hit the delete key. If your schedule is just too crazy, or you've been on vacation, don't feel the need to catch up. Give yourself permission to hit the delete key and start fresh on a Monday morning.

Missed a read? You can go to: http://www.emailbookclub.com/miss or just email and ask. We'll send your missing reads right out to you. I'm at your service.

Want to comment on the book? Send me an email--I love to hear from readers--or visit our Book Forum at: http://www.network54.com/Forum/180658 and exchange comments with other readers.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Warm regards,

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 4-18-05

Join my email book club. Over 280,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I was in the middle of an important business telephone conversation and I knew that it was going to get out of control soon. I tried to "think" it away, but that wasn't working. "Tickle, tickle, cough, cough." I covered the microphone on my headset and grabbed the water bottle on my desk. But I was losing the battle and I knew I would soon be a goner.

The executive on the other end of the line was finishing up his sentence and he was going to expect me to respond. But I was afraid if I said anything, I'd start coughing and I wouldn't be able to stop.

In my mind, I was coaching myself, "Okay, maybe if I speak softly and quickly, I can get a sentence out before I lose control...Whew, it worked. Yes, I'm safe. Please, oh please, wrap up your conversation."

But nope, he pressed on telling me about yesterday's meeting and finally I couldn't hold it in any longer. Cough, COUGH, COUGH. Quickly, I hit the mute button on my headset--thank heavens for mute buttons--because I could still hear him, but he couldn't hear me coughing and sputtering on my end of the phone.

Cough, hack, hack, cough. I was expelling air with hurricane gusts at about 150 miles per hour. This mute feature was a life saver. How could this guy not hear me? I was dying here. As soon as I finish this coughing jag, I really need to write a thank you letter to the company that makes this headset. Why, this could be an entirely new product feature for them. I can see it now: "Tickle in your throat? Our Muted-Cough feature to the rescue. Cough up a lung while you're making a sale and your customer will never be the wiser." Well, they may need to work on that slogan a tiny bit.

Finally--things have quieted down. I think I'm all better now and just in time.

"Well, what do you think Suzanne?"

"I think your idea sounds great Bill. Believe me, I couldn't have said it better."

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com