Personally, and most probably, I'm at least an entry-level workaholic with enough Virgo perfectionism to allow my thinking to stray off course at times. My stress level rises, my thinking patterns disintegrate and I become unfocused. Suddenly, my forward motion is slowed, halted or even reversed.

I was in such a tailspin when call came from my daughter that something was terribly wrong with Corbin. Of course, business just didn't matter at that point, but it was through this trauma and "in" someone who has been on this planet more than 90 times less than me, and who knew no different than to "just do it!", that I found my way again.

Corbin was released from hospital after his ten-day fight, better than new and all stronger in both body and soul.

Look, I'm not a preachy person (most of time anyway), but every now and then we all need a wake up call to remind us of very simple laws that propel our universe. And I received mine so close to home and in a circumstance that had absolutely nothing to do with entrepreneurial spirit, but everything to do with human spirit.

I learned my lesson through eyes of a child.

© Rick Beneteau

The moment arrived and music started. Teri didn’t. She just stood there, still as a statue, while her friends slipped into their well- rehearsed routine.

Was she nervous? Did she forget her steps? Did her foot hurt?

Then, as if on cue, she gracefully took her left hand out of muff and raised it to her face, inserted her index finger into her nostril and with precision of a Texas oil driller, began a full-scale exploration of orifice that seemingly wouldn’t conclude until she hit paydirt! That’s my girl!

Needless to say, place erupted into hysterical laughter that overrode loud music. I began to slither down in my seat trying not to be among majority who were splitting a gut at spectacle and add to embarrassment that Teri must have been beginning to feel.

Suddenly, as if it finally registered that non-relenting roar of laughter was directed at her, she ran off stage. I was already hustling out of theatre to backstage area in anticipation of having to do some creative parenting and intense consolation.

With a lot of tear drying and a little coaxing I managed to convince my little dancer to “get on with show”, where she performed rest of her numbers, without using her fingers.

The next year, she played tee ball.

© Rick Beneteau