The Taste of Success

“Celebrate what you want to see more of.” --- Tom Peters

I toted around a bright red autograph book my mother had given me for my 10^th birthday. Friends and family members would happily write something cool in it. But there was one autograph I recall all these years later.

Soon after my birthday, Uncle Dick came to San Diego from Hawaii for a business trip and visited us. I flashed my new book at him and asked if he’d sign it. His smiled as he thought of something to write. When he pressed the side of his hand onto a clean white sheet, I peeked over his shoulder at the kitchen table. He had beautiful penmanship for a man; I remembered thinking as his hand danced across the 4X6 page. I read his note once, then again, and thought it was the weirdest thing ever.

Don’t suck a lemon. Suc-cess

 Uncle explained that we shouldn’t suck on lemons. They’re sour. But to suck on success, it’s sweet. He leaned in close to me and said, success will give you a good life. He asked what I could do to be a success. After some thought, I told him I could do my homework, get good grades, don’t get in trouble for talking so much during class, don’t eat sugar from the bowl, don’t forget my manners. I would have keep chiming out this atta-girl list; but honestly even at 10 I thought it might be easier just to suck on that sour old lemon.

But a funny thing happened. That recital of good deeds I gave to Uncle Dick made me kind of excited. I wondered if I could be a success at school.

I wasn’t a good student. I didn’t like homework. Only one “B” hung sheepishly amongst the “C’s” and “C—‘s” on my report card, and the “B” was for P.E. The only reason I remotely liked school was to play with my friends. Other than that, school was a drag. But I had a choice to make: Suck a lemon or suc-cess.

Since success was a new concept, I thought why not give it a try. Instead of doodling or having combat duo with my pencil and eraser at the small desk in my bedroom, I bit my lower lip, trying to write neatly and do the best I could. I wondered if the taste of success was as sweet as sugar from a bowl.

One day my teacher, Krear, called me over to her desk when the class was dismissed for recess. I thought I was in trouble, but wondered how that could be, because I’d stopped talking to my best friend in class and I turned in all my homework. I stood nervously at her desk. A large wooden ruler lay like a stiff snake at the top of her desk. She used it all the time on the bad kids. Even I got a swat on my chubby knuckles for talking too much.

She said something that pulled my attention away from that monster ruler. She was pleased with my homework, but wondered if someone might have done it. I told her, it was only me. She smiled, saying how proud she was, and keep up the good work.

I nodded and dashed out the door to the playground, smiling over the taste of success. It was sweet.