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COPYRIGHT 2004 Jannetti Publications, Inc.
The damp musky smell of rich dark earth, the cool pleasant texture as it fell through my fingers, and caked black beneath my fingernails wasn't just "diggin' worms." It was high expectations: The beginning of a late summer afternoon adventure. I was on my hands and knees with an empty soup can as Grandpa manned the pitchfork in the cool pine-shaded flowerbed just outside the door to Grandma's kitchen. Grandma always dumped her coffee grounds there to fertilize the tiny white flowers of Lily of the Valley edging the north side of the house. And Grandpa and I always dug up her flowerbed. Sometimes he would talk about how earthworms were really invaders from Europe, or how the little white collar was the egg sack, and how there are both sexes in each worm. "If you want to catch worms," he said, "you gotta think like a worm. If you want to catch fish, you gotta think like a fish." The initial overturned clump exploded into black chunks exposing the first fat pink earthworm to the light. I reached, and just as quickly, he sucked himself back into the clump out of harm's way. "You gotta be ready, Dan, or we'll never get out on the lake." The worm bed never failed us, and Grandma never had many Lilies of the Valley.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
You have to be ready. To attack a problem, you must learn everything about it. You must be prepared.
To attack a disease, you must think like the disease. You must learn everything about it. You must be prepared.
Patience and Self-Talk
Grandpa was an artist. He was a scientist....
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