I hope the past year will go down in your book of life as one filled with great pleasures and grand memories. But whether the year was good, bad, or indifferent, I hope you’ll enter the new year wiser and stronger for your experiences and optimistic that the best is yet to come.

As you look forward to the future -- the place where you’ll spend the rest of your life -- it’s smart to look back at the immediate past and objectively assess what went well and what didn’t in your job, your relationships, your health, and your overall sense of fulfillment. What did you learn that can help you make your life better?

If you had a bad year, it’s possible you were a wholly innocent victim, or maybe your own actions or attitudes contributed to serious grief or unhappiness. Either way, please accept my best wishes and sincere condolences. Please be careful, however, not to wallow in sorrow, sympathy, shame, or self-doubt. Don’t allow yesterday’s pain to become tomorrow’s suffering.

Be accountable, but be fair to yourself.

Start the next stage of your life’s journey with optimism and confidence.

Remember, you’re the captain of your own ship. Take the wheel, choose your course, and get on your way.

Sure, there might be more rough seas ahead, but there is also peace, reconciliation, achievement, challenge, and true joy. You just have to find it.

Abe Lincoln pointed out that one of the good things about the future is it always comes one day at a time.

May this new year be your best year – so far.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:39 AM | Permalink | Comment (0)

As we approach the new year, it’s a good time to clean out the clutter in our lives. Sure, that means disposing of useless papers and unused stuff, but it also means throwing away old grudges.

The prevalence and durability of grudges proves Maya Angelou’s observation that people don’t always remember what you said or did, but they do remember how you made them feel.

Grudges are nothing more than toxic memories of how someone made us feel.

But Confucius taught that “To be wronged is nothing unless we continue to remember it.” So why do so many of us choose to consciously preserve and revisit toxic feelings that detract from our happiness?

Perhaps we fool ourselves into thinking we can inflict some sort of pain on the person who wronged us. In fact, holding on to a grudge is like holding on to a hot stone. It doesn’t hurt the stone or the person who gave it to us; it only hurts the one holding the stone. Carrying a grudge is like being stung to death by one bee.

And it really doesn’t matter how justified the bitter feelings are or how right we are. Holding on to a grievance turns pain into suffering. In a peculiar way it empowers the wrongdoer to hurt us again and again.

So start out this new year by giving yourself a great gift. Muster the good sense and strength to root out and release deep-seated and long-held resentments.

If you can, forgive and forget. But all that’s really necessary is a firm decision to let go of your grudges so you can move forward and free yourself of the chains of resentment.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:24 AM | Permalink | Comment (16)

It’s a wise custom to end an old year and begin a new one with serious self-reflection. What did you learn this year that can improve your life and make you a better person?

You might start by examining the way you think and feel about your job, your relationships, and yourself.

After all, the single most important factor in personal happiness and your impact on others is your attitude.

In the geometry of life, the axiom is “positive attitudes produce positive results.” They make success more likely, failures less harmful, pleasures more frequent, and pain more bearable.

Some people tend to bring warm sunshine wherever they go; others bring cold chills. What do you bring?

To find out where you can improve, take an honest inventory of your predispositions, the attitude you’re most likely to start with.

• Are you generally optimistic or pessimistic?
• Do you tend to assume the best or expect the worst of people?
• Is your first instinct to be empathetic or judgmental?
• Is your first instinct to be supportive or critical?
• Do you send the message that you enjoy life or that you’re barely enduring it?
• Do you come across as the captain of your own ship or simply a passenger?

Wherever you are on the positive-attitude spectrum, think how much better things could be if you were more consistently and self-consciously optimistic, empathetic, supportive, grateful, enthusiastic, hopeful, and cheerful.

So why not resolve to think, act, and speak more positively about yourself, your family, your coworkers, and everyone else in your life?

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:37 AM | Permalink | Comment (0)

Now that the card-sending and gift-giving season is over, I’m left with mixed feelings.

It’s wonderful to compile a list of hundreds of family, friends, and business associates whom I want to thank with a gift or card. It’s worrisome that following through on my good feelings and intentions feels like such a burden.

With five children, nine siblings, and countless nieces and nephews, our family gift list could cross the eyes of a North Pole elf. And even being selective, dozens of coworkers and business associates deserve tangible expressions of affection and appreciation.

It’s wonderful seeing the pleasure produced by the right gift, but it’s worrisome knowing that some recipients may not regard my gift as sufficiently generous, thoughtful, or appropriate. And then there’s the worry about offending people who didn’t get a gift or card.

When it comes to gifts, I really believe “it’s the thought that counts,” but if I don’t know or have the time to find out what the other person really wants or needs, how can I invest the gift with thoughtfulness it deserves? Printed holiday cards and fruit baskets don’t involve much thought, but finding the time to write hundreds of meaningful personal notes or selecting individual gifts is daunting.

As a result, I’m ashamed to admit that a sense of burden and obligation hovers over an activity that should be heartfelt and joy-filled.

The problem is made worse when I see many gift recipients experience short-lived or shallow gratitude. Whether they aren’t grateful because they know no sincere thoughtfulness went into the gift or because the gift simply isn’t what they wanted, the experience falls short of its potential.

I’d like to hear your ideas on a better way to handle this next year.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comment (7)

According to legend, a young man roaming the desert came across a spring of delicious crystal-clear water. The water was so sweet, he filled his leather canteen so he could bring some back to a tribal elder who had been his teacher.

After a four-day journey, he presented the water to the old man who took a deep drink, smiled warmly, and thanked his student lavishly for the sweet water. The young man returned to his village with a happy heart.

Later, the teacher let another student taste the water. He spat it out, saying it was awful. It apparently had become stale because of the long journey in the old leather container. The student challenged his teacher: “Master, the water was foul. Why did you pretend to like it?”

The teacher replied, “You only tasted the water. I tasted the gift. The water was simply the container for an act of loving kindness, and nothing could be sweeter. Heartfelt gifts deserve the return gift of gratitude.”

We understand this lesson best when we receive innocent gifts of love from young children. Whether it’s a ceramic tray or a macaroni bracelet, the natural and proper response is appreciation and expressed thankfulness because we love the idea within the gift.

Gratitude doesn’t always come naturally. Unfortunately, most children and many adults value only the thing given rather than the feeling embodied in it. We should remind ourselves and teach our children about the beauty and purity of feelings and expressions of gratitude. After all, gifts from the heart are really gifts of the heart.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:48 AM | Permalink | Comment (5)

Will this be a good Christmas? How will you measure it?

To lots of kids, the answer may be embedded in the response to the question: “Whaddja get?”

On the other hand, retailers and Wall Street investors will look to sales and profits.

What a pity that the spiritual and social potential of this a holiday can be so easily lost.

Of course, Christmas is a profoundly important day of worship to devout Christians, so a “good” Christmas must include a meaningful religious connection with the teachings of Jesus.

But for many Christians and non-Christians, there are other dimensions to this day.

In fact, Christmas is more than a single day; it’s a season involving weeks of preparation and celebration devoted to family, friendships and, most important of all, a grand vision of “peace on earth and goodwill toward men.”

To me, a good Christmas is one that helps us become better people so we can have better lives and a better society.

On a personal level, the optimism, good cheer, and goodwill embodied in the Christmas spirit are antidotes to selfishness and superficiality. They can help us find purpose and meaning in love, kindness, charity, gratitude, and forgiveness.

On a social level, a good Christmas is one where we can say we’ve made meaningful progress combating homelessness, hunger, and poverty. It would also be a good Christmas if we truly overcame the fears, suspicions, and prejudices that may be hindering our expression of goodwill to all men, regardless of their ethnicity, national origin, or personal religion.

So regardless of your religion, I hope you’ll make this Christmas a good one.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:31 AM | Permalink | Comment (2)

In a world preoccupied with the quest for material possessions, it’s easy to overlook the fact that the most valuable things we own are our best memories. Good memories are the gift that keeps on giving. They make us smile, feel proud, and re-experience the pleasure of past times.

Looked at through the soft lens of sentiment, even the memory of cranky relatives and family traditions that bored or annoyed us at the time can be heartwarming links with our past.

But whether your memories of the holiday season conjure up good feelings and happy sounds, smells, and tastes or negative feelings filled with disappointments, resentments, and grudges, I hope you’ll resolve this year to consciously create lasting good memories for yourself and those you care about.

Although few of us remember what we gave or got last year or the year before, the tendency is to put too much emphasis on the process of giving and getting gifts.

Don’t worry so much about what to buy your family and friends; think more about what you want to give them.

Think beyond the synthetic atmosphere of the mall. Prefabricated decorations and gift certificates are not the stuff of lasting recollections. Think about the feelings you want to create.

The best memories are made out of simple stuff -- homemade food, handmade gifts, heartfelt letters, good conversations, games, and heirlooms.

Highlight and celebrate old traditions and consciously create new ones. You’ll be glad you did -- for a long time.

This is Michael Josephson wishing you a very happy holiday season and reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:20 AM | Permalink | Comment (3)

“‘Tis the season to be jolly.”

Indeed, the holiday season, undeniably dominated by the trappings and traditions of Christmas, is not only a time for solemn worship but a period of high festivity, grand enthusiasm, and good cheer.

Despite pervasive and relentless commercialism conveying a sense of superficiality and artificiality, I still find that the music, decorations, holiday cards, and gifts associated with Christmas makes me a huge fan of cheerfulness.

Even the forced and phony joyfulness of “Ho, Ho, Ho” department store Santas can generate authentic delight.

There’s no doubt about it, good nature is a powerful force that makes people, including the person exuding it, feel better. I love to be around merry people.

I used to think cheerfulness was an inborn disposition. Gleeful people were simply hardwired to look on the bright side. I’ve come to realize, however, that happiness is more often a choice than a trait.

Many people are self-consciously good-spirited as a life strategy to make themselves and those they interact with happier. It’s a matter of character to repress or overcome personal grievances, sorrows, and setbacks and willfully project positive attitudes.

A cheerful person and a somber one look at the same things, but they see them differently. They also look for other things. Someone once made the distinction between a person who is happy because he has no cares at all and a cheerful person who has cares but doesn’t let them get him down.

Your cheerfulness is the greatest gift you can give others. So cheer up – for your sake and ours.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:38 AM | Permalink | Comment (7)

We wanted to share the following critique of the Commentary e-newsletter format to stimulate discussion. In response to the format change, some readers have thanked us for "keeping up" with what's current and for providing a forum for reader feedback, while others have complained about having to be online to read the full commentaries. But this is by far the most impassioned response we've seen. (See our reply below.)

Dear Mr. Josephson,

I have been overwhelmed the past several weeks and have just now begun to look at my commentary e-mails starting back in the middle of October.

I am dismayed that you have "slimmed down" the e-mails we receive.

Even though it was first noted in the Week 538 e-mail, I did not receive the smaller version until Week 539. Perhaps this is because I was receiving my commentaries via non-HTML. I quickly opened Week 545 (the one just received this evening) and saw that now I am receiving it in HTML.

I do not just dislike the new format; I despise it. I save all of these e-mails in MS Word documents so that I can share them with my children without having to be online. In the non-HTML format with all of the commentaries, this was a simple thing to do. Now, however, it will be a nightmare of slow cutting and pasting what is in the newsletter, then going to the website to copy each commentary. Further, to read letters, I will now have to click on each individual one. You have quadrupled the time I need to take to save these e-mails, and there is no good reason that I can see.

I refer you to your commentary 539.5. You aren't comfortable with new technologies, and yet you do this? Please, let those of us who preferred the simple, non-HTML format and getting our commentaries in the e-mail instead of clicking here and clicking there to read them have that back.

I have a poor opinion of people telling me that they are sending me something in an e-mail when in fact the e-mail contains the link to actually get what I want to get. To my view, this is dishonest. You say you are sending your commentaries to us in these e-mails. Not getting them in the e-mail does not make you appear trustworthy.

If you insist on making my already full day even more difficult, then maybe your idea of caring is not what mine is, or you just don't respect my time.

Please, I beg you to reconsider this decision. Because if you don't, I will have to reconsider my belief in your program. I truly don't want to feel that way, because you have helped me to raise my children the right way. But this less personal way of doing things is a real turn-off to me.

Thank you for your attention.

Sincerely,

Michele Mulidor

Posted by Webmaster at 8:28 AM | Permalink | Comment (4)

As I was writing the introduction for a book of essays called The Best Is Yet to Come and reflecting on the gratifying but unexpected success of my radio commentaries, I came to realize the debt I owed to Jack Canfield and Victor Hansen, the creators of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. It’s easy for some to dismiss these collections of stories as being corny or manipulative, but they work, at least for me.

What’s more, they deserve credit for reintroducing our culture to the use of parables and personal stories as a means of teaching and touching, not just the mind, but the heart. They give teachers like me permission to go beyond reason and logic and tap into the full emotionality of human experience in a way that reminds us of our softer side, even to the point of drawing tears.

William Arthur Ward said, "The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires." I aspire to inspire -- often with stories that help us understand, encourage us to do better, and remind us of things we know but don’t think about often enough.

These stories are needed antidotes to the toxic cynicism that pervades popular culture and causes us to measure humanity by its weaknesses rather than its strengths. We need to be reminded that the love, self-sacrifice, integrity, and courage of ordinary people confirm the extraordinary human capacity for nobility and prove that cynicism is a deplorable lie.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:26 AM | Permalink | Comment (1)

It’s a tradition during a bat or bar mitzvah ceremony for parents to deliver specific blessings to their child. I wrote another poem for the occasion and though I couldn’t read it then without a few sobs, I want to share it with you in the hope you will find some use for it.

If I Could Give You Anything

If I could give you anything, anything at all,

But I can remind you that you have the power within you to find, make, and keep all the things I wish for you.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:56 AM | Permalink | Comment (9)

Religious traditions and legal systems throughout the world agree that young children can’t be held guilty of sins or crimes because they don’t understand the moral consequences of their actions.

The age of accountability varies among religions and cultures. The Catholic Church puts the age at eight, when a child can participate in the sacrament of confession. In Judaism, boys at 13 and girls at 12 can become a bar or bat mitzvah and be held morally responsible for their actions.

In the Anglo-American legal system, a person must normally be 14 to be held criminally liable. In some traditional Latin-American cultures, a girl becomes an adult at 15.

In America, most children look at various age benchmarks in terms or rights or privileges -- they can drive at 16, smoke, vote, and serve in the military at 18, and drink alcohol at 21.

Religious “coming of age” traditions are more concerned with obligations and responsibilities.

Last week, my 12-year-old daughter Abrielle, in a solemn but joyous ceremony, formally left her childhood to accept the responsibilities of an adult. The essence of the bat mitzvah process, involving reading from the Torah, is accepting the moral duties prescribed by Jewish law. The Hebrew bat mitzvah means “one to whom the Commandments apply.”

Of course, moral duties are distinct from legal ones. As a former Justice of the Supreme Court said, “There’s a big difference between what you have a right to do and what is right to do.”

At a conference for lawyers, an attorney declared, “My job is to keep our clients out of jail.” When my turn came, I said, “My job is to keep them out of hell.”

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Webmaster at 9:29 AM | Permalink | Comment (4)

I’ve talked before about my dear daughter Abrielle, including the fact that she was born with a disfiguring birthmark called a hemangioma that engulfed her entire nose. The birthmark was removed by Dr. Milton Waner, a brilliant surgeon. She is now a stunningly beautiful girl.

Dr. Waner’s work revealed her outer beauty, but the experience of 14 surgeries and dealing with people’s reactions to someone who looked different developed an inner beauty in her that you can’t miss.

This fine young lady is about to celebrate her Bat mitzvah (a coming of age ceremony for Jewish girls), and I want to share with you a poem I wrote that will be read during the service. It’s an invocation many parents can share with their children.

Unlimited

Within you lies unlimited potential.
Unlimited potential for both success and significance.
Unlimited potential for happiness and worthiness.

Within you lies everything you will ever need to be and get everything you will ever want.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 10:04 AM | Permalink | Comment (15)

There’s a parable about a new mother who discovered a butterfly struggling mightily to escape its cocoon through a tiny opening at the top. She became concerned when the creature seemed to give up after making no progress. Certain that the butterfly wouldn’t make it out without help, she enlarged the hole slightly.

On its next try, the butterfly wriggled out easily. But the young woman’s joy turned to horror when she saw its wings were shriveled and useless. Her well-intentioned intervention had interrupted a natural process. Forcing the butterfly to squeeze through a small opening is nature’s way of assuring that blood from the creature’s body is pushed into its wings. By making that procedure easier, she deprived the butterfly of strong wings.

Childhood, too, is a sort of cocoon. If a healthy adult is to emerge, parents must allow, even encourage, their children to struggle, make mistakes, learn from them, and pay a price for bad judgments and conduct.

Of course, good parents should be ready to protect their children from serious harm. But being overprotective can itself inflict damage. Adversity is not always an enemy. It’s often teaching that helps a young person develop wings strengthened by self-confidence and self-reliance.

Helen Keller once said, "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved."

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comment (4)

One of the hardest things in the world is to give negative feedback in a constructive way. But an even harder thing is to receive criticism without getting defensive about the content (“That’s absolutely untrue!”) and offensive about the source (“What a jerk!”).

For many of us, words of disapproval weigh so much more than positive comments.

Years ago, my wife was deeply offended by an unkind and unwelcoming remark by a member of our new congregation. When told how alienated this made her feel, our rabbi simply asked her, “Why is his opinion worth more than mine?” His message: Don’t let nasty and unpleasant people shape your experience or pollute your outlook.

Easier said than done.

Recently, I received several hundred kind and encouraging notes about my 65th birthday. Perhaps it’s a sign of either an excessively deflated or bloated ego, but I confess I love to hear nice things. I even pass on the best letters to my wife.

Then I read a note from a fellow who was utterly disgusted with my “self-righteous, self-congratulatory commentaries” featuring me and my “four insufferable daughters.”

My mood changed.

I should know better, but his comments shook my confidence. [See the entire letter here.] Although his note seemed unnecessarily mean-spirited, maybe he’s right. I’ve convinced myself that talking about personal feelings and relationships promotes a kind of intimacy with listeners, but I can see how this would strike some as offensively self-indulgent.

What should I do? While I have to be open to criticism and growth, changing just to avoid disapproval puts me on the crooked path of compromise. The big lesson: It’s okay to have some people dislike me. What’s not okay is to lose my authenticity.

To thine own self be true.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comment (23)

A man in a hot-air balloon, realizing he was lost, lowered it to shout to a fellow on the ground. "The wind’s blown me off course! Can you tell me where I am?"

The man replied, "Sure. You’re about 60 feet over this wheat field."

"You must be an engineer," the balloonist yelled back.

"I am. How’d you know?" the man said.

"Everything you told me is technically correct but of absolutely no use."

The engineer retorted, "You’re an executive, right?"

"How did you know?" the balloonist responded.

"You were drifting in no particular direction before you asked for my help, you’re still lost, and now it’s my fault."

The tale is a good metaphor for our lives. At first, all we want to do is rise as high as we can in terms of money, position, and prestige. Yet as we ascend, wind currents push us sideways. Eventually, many of us discover we’re on a very different course than we intended, a long way from the spot we took off from, and nowhere near where we hoped to end up at. So we blame the wind -- or anything else.

What we must realize is our power of choice is a steering mechanism that lets us respond to each breeze and gust. We can drift with the current or go against it. Like haphazard wind drafts, unplanned events beyond our control can affect the direction of our lives. But in the end, what we do and become is determined by our choices.

The key is to be attentive, look around, and ensure we’re going where we want to go.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 11:48 AM | Permalink | Comment (4)

On December 10th I turned 65.

It’s the biggest birthday of my life, a cause for philosophical reflection and the launching pad for a series of commentaries about getting older.

It’s a traumatic milestone because of my own preconceptions.

When people turn 65, they become senior citizens, elderly folk who ought to be thinking of slowing down and retiring.

Frankly, I can’t grasp that I’ve lived that long. My self-image is a young up-and-comer, and I refuse to accept all the baggage that comes with becoming eligible for Medicare.

I may need a day or two to adjust, but my strategy is to consciously disregard “you’re not as young as you used to be” messages from my mirror and my knees.

A healthy perspective is suggested by the question: “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?” The message is: What matters is not age but attitude.

Sounds good to me. I accept this invitation to self-delusion. I choose to think 65 is the new 40 – the beginning of middle age.

I really don’t have a choice. I’m in the midst of parenting assignments generally handled by much younger men. For example, for the last week my wife’s been planning the party and I’ve been consumed with preparing a special booklet for my daughter Abrielle’s bat mitzvah next Saturday.

I have a full-grown emancipated son, but my four daughters, ages 9-14, will need me (whether they know it or not) throughout their journey through adolescence to adulthood. Whenever I start the old man’s lament, I remind myself to suck it up. Surrender is not an option.

So, as long as I’m able, I intend to be 40.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:57 AM | Permalink | Comment (26)

Ron, a nine-year-old boy, was being raised by his mother who didn’t know how to cope with his uncontrollable temper. She knew he was angry that his father had abandoned him. She tried professional counseling, but nothing seemed to work.

So she sent Ron to spend the summer on his grandparents’ farm. When he came home, he was a changed boy. His mom asked him what happened.

Ron told her that every time he got mad or said anything unkind, Grandpa Hal made him go outside and hammer a two-inch nail into a two-by-four. It was really hard, and he wasn’t allowed back until the nail was all the way in. After about 20 trips to the shed, he decided it was easier to control his temper than hammer in those nails.

"Did you hate the consequence so much that you just changed?" his mom asked.

"Well, that was part of it," he answered. "After I’d hit in all those nails and was behaving pretty good, Grandma Grace took me outside and made me pull them all out. That was just as hard. When I was done, she gave me this note I’ve been carrying around."

The note said:

Pulling out nails is like saying you’re sorry, but the holes you made in the board remain. You can’t fix what you do by being sorry, but you can stop making new holes. Remember, every time you do something mean and nasty, you’re making a hole somewhere, in someone. That’s what your Dad did to you. Please don’t do that to anyone else. You’re better than that.

"You know what, Mom?" Ron said. "Grandma was right. I am better than that."

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:42 AM | Permalink | Comment (6)

I remember the day I told my daughter Samara, who was then five, that I was going on a trip for one night. "Please don’t go, Daddy," she begged.

When I wouldn’t agree to stay, she threw an all-out tantrum. I knew that was the risk when I told her. I could have said nothing and let her mother explain my absence, or I could have pretended to give in by saying that "I’d see" if I could get out of it.

Actually I couldn’t. You see, I had made a decision long before to establish relationships of unquestioned trust with my children. I knew that even well-intentioned lies, deceptions, and broken promises could be land mines to trust.

When she calmed down, she took a new tack: "Take me with you." When this didn’t work, she came up with her final offer: "Then I want you to wear this tie." And she got a tie she had given me for Father’s Day. It was a special tie, one that she’d drawn pictures on.

When I dressed for my trip, I thought of putting the tie in my briefcase and wearing one more appropriate. But a promise is a promise, so I wore the tie. During my talk, I told the tie story in the context of trust, pointing out that while I was certain my daughter would never know if I wore the tie or not, trust is too precious to take chances with.

When I returned the next afternoon, I went straight to my office. My wife showed up in a surprise visit with Samara. She’d never done that before. When Samara saw I was wearing her tie, she beamed and gave me a huge hug.

I was so glad I kept my promise to that little girl.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:29 AM | Permalink | Comment (1)

Sometimes lying makes our lives easier. If you want the day off, just call in sick. If your boss asks if you’ve finished a report, say you left it at home. If an irate customer calls, just make up a good cover-up story. Technically they’re lies, but since no one’s hurt, what’s the big deal?

We tell ourselves these sorts of lies are harmless. But are they really? Telling lies is like reckless driving. If we’re lucky, we won’t get caught and no one will get hurt. But driving dangerously is wrong because it’s irresponsible to recklessly endanger human life. Most lies are wrong, too, because they recklessly endanger human relationships. What’s more, they’re habit forming. The more lies we tell, the easier they become. So we tell more.

Self-serving lies that help us get out of a jam or look better are like land mines. Many may lie dormant but, sooner or later, will explode, damaging both our credibility and reputation. The ethical duty to be worthy of others’ trust should not bend to our needs, convenience, or desire to avoid unpleasant consequences. Besides being dishonest, lying is disrespectful because it deprives the victim of information needed to make sensible decisions.

Lies damage personal and business relationships because they generate suspicion and distrust. Once lied to, most people think, "What else will he or she lie to me about?" This is not a healthy basis for any relationship.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 10:29 AM | Permalink | Comment (8)

Management guru Peter Drucker advocated a practice he called planned abandonment. He stressed how important it is that managers develop the wisdom and courage to regularly review what their organization is doing and determine whether it’s worth doing. He urged executives to note and resist the systemic and emotional forces that make it difficult to abandon activities that drain resources, detract from central goals, or otherwise impede progress.

Professor Drucker’s insights about abandonment seem equally applicable to the management of our lives. Many of us continue to pursue unrealistic career goals or stay in unhealthy or destructive relationships that ought to be abandoned because they keep us from moving upward and forward toward core life goals.

It makes no sense to settle for relationships that lessen rather than enlarge us, that diminish rather than develop our values and character. Thus, we should summon the courage and integrity to abandon dead-end personal or work relationships. We need to recognize how murky notions of loyalty can blind us to simple realities and how unrealistic hopes that things will change can prevent us from achieving our higher potential.

Toxic relationships not only make us unhappy, they corrupt our attitudes and dispositions in ways that undermine healthier relationships and blur our vision of what is possible. It’s never easy to change, but nothing gets better without change.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:33 AM | Permalink | Comment (7)

As I approach my 65th birthday, a milestone that can be generously described as the early stages of old age, I can’t help but reflect on all the unplanned turns my life has taken.

As a fourth grader, I was interviewed on the national TV show Kids Say the Darndest Things hosted by Art Linkletter. I said, "I want to be a lawyer because my mother says I talk so much I might as well get paid for it.”

My early ambition to become a wealthy lawyer was later replaced by the aspiration to become worthy lawyer. I wanted to be a fierce warrior for social justice.

Along the way, I was given an opportunity to teach law and I loved it. I derailed my trial law goals by happily spending my days learning, thinking, and writing about theoretical legal concepts and essential lawyering skills. I earned tenure (lifetime job security) before I was 30.

I specialized in "warrior" courses focusing on litigation and negotiation. My favorite saying was: "The law is what is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained."

As a sideline, I started a company to help students learn the law and pass the bar exam.

In 1976, the same year I became a father, I was assigned to teach legal ethics (this was the American Bar Association’s antidote to the Watergate scandal involving dozens of lawyers – after all, how would they know not to lie unless they had a course in law school?).

Together these experiences produced a new personal and professional life perspective. My fixation with teaching lawyers how to do what they could do was replaced by a desire to teach how to know what they should do. My new motto was, "There’s a big difference between what you have a right to do and what is right to do."

About ten years later, I sold my business and left the groves of academe to found the nonprofit Joseph & Edna Josephson Institute of Ethics to honor my parents, the beginning of another journey full of unexpected turns.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Posted by Josephson Institute Editor at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comment (3)