Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously!

“Laugh at yourself and at life. Not in the spirit of derision or whining self-pity, but as a remedy, a miracle drug, that will ease your pain, cure your depression, and help you to put in perspective that seemingly terrible defeat and worry with laughter at your predicaments, thus freeing your mind to think clearly toward the solution that is certain to come. Never take yourself too seriously.”
– Og Mandino

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Sincerely,
Frank Cunha III
I Love My Architect – Facebook

FC3 ARCHITECTURE+DESIGN, LLC
P.O. Box 335, Hamburg, NJ 07419
e-mail: fcunha@fc3arch.com
mobile: 201.681.3551
direct: 973.970.3551
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Licensed in NJ, NY, PA, DE, CT.


Ignite and Soar by @FrankCunhaIII

As the intense passion of one’s soul ignites a tiny little spark in youth, it remains hidden in our own heart waiting for a special moment in time when it can be set free, perhaps a time when we are more mature and ready for the responsibility that comes from our untethered energy fueled by love, lust, and passion for one’s true destiny, as one continues to seek and find one’s self, in oneself, establishing ourselves and recreating one’s infinite identity uncensored through time and space, encouraging others to do the same, creating an uncontrollable fire so intense that it engulfs all other matter in a way unknown to our fellow human beings, which creates an entirely new world filled with love, hope, joy, as well as wealth and health for all our brothers and sisters, as we continue to search for our own self identity in others, it is deeply buried in our own heart and soul, suppressed by the firefighting bureaucrats that remain in control until this very moment of undeniable ignition, this moment in time.  Created in our thought in youth, now realized at the appropriate time, when nothing else can be lost, we have everything to gain and conquer.  All I ask of you now is to assist me by blowing ever so gently, yet intensely into my sails as I lift up high above this earth, and I promise to do the same for you.  This journey is not one that we can go on alone, although it is in this state of loneliness from which we enter and depart this cold world.  We long for those brief moments in our lives when we touch others in ways which cannot be described here (but I know you know what I’m talking about).  In these moments we find our life, our eternal flame which can never be put out, less of all by them, and as they continue to try, they soon find that the flame is ignited even brighter and much, much stronger with the help of our true friends.  You know who you are and I’m eternally grateful for your love and support and want you to know when you feel most alone, you can feel my warm breath of love and encouragement for you, because although we are born and die alone, there are these few moments when we truly connect with a special few people, you know who you are.  Ignite the fire within and have the strength and courage to be you, I will help lift you high in flight to help you soar, higher and higher, as we learn to live the life we should, when we follow that tiny little spark created a long time ago. That is who you are, this is who I am.  Individually, we succeed, moment to moment, but together we build a fire so intense that no army can fight, the spark of love will light our way and lift our souls, glory and gratitude transform, hearts soar. Be true to your soul and let your flame guide your way upward beyond the clouds.

(Photo “Above the Moon You Can Soar!” taken by Frank Cunha III on January 18, 2010)

If you like this post please share it with friends. And feel free to contact us if you would like to discuss ideas for your next project!

Sincerely,
Frank Cunha III
I Love My Architect – Facebook

FC3 ARCHITECTURE+DESIGN, LLC
P.O. Box 335, Hamburg, NJ 07419
e-mail: fcunha@fc3arch.com
mobile: 201.681.3551
direct: 973.970.3551
fax: 973.718.4641
web: http://www.fc3arch.com
Licensed in NJ, NY, PA, DE, CT.


[Repost] Luke Russert: What I Learned From My Dad

I read this book a few years ago and really enjoy the positive message from Tim Russert.  When I saw the Parade yesterday morning I was happy to see his son Luke following in his father’s footsteps.
Big Russ and Me: Father and Son--Lessons of Life

What I Learned From My Dad
by Luke Russert

“Dad”—no title or honor in his life carried more significance to my father, Tim Russert. He once told Oprah Winfrey, “When my life is over, there’s nothing more I’ll be judged on than what kind of father I was.” And he was a wonderful one.
He was not only my best friend, but my compass. While he was alive, he guided me with his actions and advice. Since he’s been gone, those “lessons of life,” as he once called them, have continued to give me counsel and comfort. Here are three of them.

“Believe in yourself.”

If there was one phrase my father never liked to hear, it was “I can’t.” His dad—my grandpa—was a garbage man from South Buffalo, N.Y. He never got to finish high school and held down two jobs to provide for his family, but he never complained. Through education and years of hard work, my dad rose from South Buffalo to become the preeminent political journalist of his generation.When I was a freshman in high school, I had a terrible time with geometry. My dad found me a tutor, but I still struggled. So my teacher suggested I meet with him at 7 each morning before school for extra help. I told my dad, “That’s crazy! I can’t do that!” He replied, “You’re doing it. I’ll bring you.” Every morning at 6:45 a.m., we’d leave the house. Despite working 12-hour days, often with a Todayshow appearance between 7 and 8 a.m., my dad never once missed driving me to school.After months of studying, I was facing the final exam. I was so nervous. If I bombed, I was looking at summer school and—worst of all—failure. On the day of the final, my dad took me to school. He got out of the car and walked with me the first 20 yards. Then he hugged me and said, “Luke, believe in yourself. You can do it. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I love you, and I know you can do this.” His words made me realize I needed to trust in my ability and in the hours of work I’d put in. I ended up passing, and it’s still one of my proudest achievements. When I got my grade, the first person I called was Dad. He screamed, “Yes! You worked your butt off, buddy! You earned it, and you believed in yourself!”

Even now, whenever I worry that a task is too much for me or have doubts about performing my job as a Capitol Hill correspondent for NBC News, I think back to that geometry exam. No matter how hard something is, if you’re willing to work, you can succeed. I’m forever grateful to Dad for that lesson.




“It’s okay to be scared.” 

In 2004, my dad and I were on a South Bend, Ind.–to–D.C. flight that hit very bad turbulence. The plane kept lurching, and it seemed to fall hundreds of feet in a few seconds. I was terrified, and I held on to the armrests for what I thought was literally dear life. But Dad, a veteran flier, didn’t flinch. He put his hand on my back, saying it would be okay, and eventually we reached smoother skies. Still, I walked away from that experience with a fear of flying. Even though I dreaded getting on airplanes, I forced myself to travel. But because I wanted to appear tough, I didn’t mention my fear to anybody.One Sunday night, I was due to fly back to Boston after visiting family and friends in Washington, D.C. The sky looked ominous, and I hoped my flight would be canceled. It wasn’t. Dad drove me to the airport, and he could tell I wasn’t myself. I was curt and furiously tapping the door handle. As we pulled up to the terminal, I really started sweating and I blurted out the truth: I was terrified about flying. He said, “I’m coming in with you.” At the counter, to my astonishment, my dad used his airline miles to get himself a ticket to Boston! I asked, “Don’t you have to be on the Today show in the morning?” He responded, “I do, but I’m going through security and walking you to the plane.” I was mortified—I was 21 and I needed an escort. I told him not to worry. My dad said, “It’s okay to be scared. Let’s talk.” We went through security and had a beer at the airport bar. He told me not to be afraid—that airlines only fly under safe conditions, that pilots are very well trained—and he quoted a statistic about air travel being the safest form of travel. He also said to think of turbulence as “rough waves that hit a boat. It might get choppy, but you know you won’t sink.” When boarding was announced, he said, “I love ya, buddy. Call me when you land,” and I got on the plane. Even though the flight was a bit bumpy, my dad’s boat analogy eased my mind.I learned that night it’s okay for a man to show fear and vulnerability. My dad could have said, “Suck it up. It’s only an hour-and-a-half flight.” Instead he went out of his way to support my weakness. To this day, I don’t believe in a “no fear” attitude. All of us have fears, and they’re real. But if you can acknowledge them and understand them—you might need help, like I did—you can overcome them. I’m still not crazy about flying, but whenever I step onto a plane, I think of Dad’s image of a boat in the ocean and it brings me tranquility.

“Remember the little things.”

People are always coming up to me with a “Tim Russert story”: about politics, sports, Buffalo, or just a chance encounter. Often, it’s about a thoughtful thing my father did. Dad was a big believer in random acts of kindness. It was not uncommon for me to come back to my room in college and find a FedEx box containing magazines, a Twix bar (my favorite), and a note from him. The packages brightened my day. It wasn’t so much what they contained—it was that my dad, the busiest man I knew, took the time to show he was thinking about me.

When I started at NBC News, a coworker sought me out and told me a story I’ll never forget. He was working for my dad when his own father became seriously ill, and he needed to take days off. Whenever he asked my father’s permission, my dad always said yes. But he did much more. My coworker talked about the many emails and phone calls he got from Dad, just checking up on him and his sick parent. When his father passed away, my dad sent flowers and gave him all the time off he needed. The man said, “I hadn’t even been at NBC for that long, so to know Tim Russert cared that much about me and my family meant the world to me.”

I’ve tried to continue my dad’s caring ways, whether it’s by making a quick phone call, giving an unexpected gift to a friend, or helping someone who’s a few dollars short at the grocery store. Take it from me and my dad—the little things do matter.

Read more advice from prominent pops like Jeff Bridges, Warren Buffett, Paul Newman, Christopher Reeve, Colin Powell, and Others

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      Luke Russert, an NBC News
      correspondent, is following his
      Dad’s lead on and off the job.