Cash In on Your Skills Now

Do you have a unique skill or interest? You don't have to wait until you graduate from college to use your skills. You may be able to use them now in your own home-based business.

Do you have a green thumb? Set up your own plant sitting service. Make a deal with neighbors to water their plants while they're gone on vacation. If you're good with animals, you could also watch their pets.

Are you known for your neatness? Housecleaning isn't the most glamorous job, but it's something a lot of people could use help with. Offer your services to working mothers and elderly people.

What do you enjoy doing? You might be able to start your own business!

Are you a good typist? Many students are willing to pay someone to type their papers for them. Post fliers on the bulletin boards of high schools and colleges.

Do you know how to cook? A lot of working wives would love to come home and have dinner waiting for them. Learn to master one or two good meals and offer to prepare them for families in your neighborhood. Are you good with children? Let parents in your neighborhood know that you are available for baby-sitting.

Do you like yard work? Probably many of your neighbors could use help with lawn mowing, tree or bush trimming, weeding and so on.

Do you have experience raising animals? Many people would rather buy their pets from someone they know than a pet store. Finches, gerbils and guppies are examples of pets that breed well in captivity.

Are you athletic? You may be able to coach or teach your favorite sport. Or you could offer your services as a golf caddie or umpire.

Are you good at car care? Put a sign up for your own car wash and wax service.

Do you know how to sew? Offer your services to people who either do not have the time or skill to sew on buttons, hem skirts and pants and so on. Put up notices on bulletin boards advertising your service.

Whatever you decide to do, do your homework first. Make sure the service you're offering is something people in your area need and want. Ask a fair price. Make sure you have enough time to handle any business you may get. Check government regulations and requirements.

Done right, your own business can be quite rewarding. You'll earn extra cash now and build job skills that will last you a lifetime.

- By Becky Sweat

Taken from Youth 90 magazine

Making Life Work: Summer at Last!

You thought it would never arrive. Summer!* It's a time to relax, let down and just plain goof off--or is it?

Summer vacation is a time to be refreshed from the hectic school pace. Yet it is also a time of opportunity.

Ah, summer! Time to relax, have fun and do nothing. Or is it?

Read this timely proverb: "He who gathers in summer is a wise son, but he who sleeps in harvest is a son who causes shame" (Proverbs 10:5, New King James Version).

Sure, you can sleep in and rest up for a few days. But don't just while away your time. Summer will be over before you know it. Remember the story about the grasshopper who fiddled away the summer, while making fun of diligent ants? He was left out in the cold when the snow fell. Here are a few tips toward a sensational summer:

Have fun! Enjoy pursuits you've been wishing you had time for.

Broaden your experience. Expand your education through new and challenging adventures. Watch for worthwhile chances to travel. See some local sights you have missed.

Spend time with your family. With schoolwork and activities out of the way, you can suggest and plan outings to build closer family relationships.

Make some money. If you want to save for college, but that microcomputer or take that trip, now is your chance to prepare. A summer job can also add to your education and help you get ready for future employment.

Prepare for next term. Get a jump on the coming semester by reading ahead for book reports, or by starting extra credit projects.

Above all, don't waste those precious weeks. Really use the time, taking care to avoid anything you will look back on with regret.

- By Jim Roberts

* Sorry. Those of you in the Southern Hemisphere will have to wait a bit longer!

Taken from Youth 90 magazine

Man's New Best Friend?

Father's Day was fast approaching. My brother-- Mr. Practical, but Boring--wanted to buy Dad a cordless drill. I was in the market for something a little more exciting.

My parents were unknowingly suffering from ENS--the empty nest syndrome. They needed a new object of affection. A pet. I wondered what would be the best pet to get to help fill Dad's needs.

Growing up I remember dogs of various shapes, sizes and mental capacities. Dogs can be noisy and smelly, big and clumsy or small and yappy. They wreak havoc and a variety of other messes. They chase cars, cats, skunks and porcupines and require walking when you require sleep. The best name for a dog, even better than Snoopy, Skippy or Shep, is Headache.

Cats are a little better. It seems there are two basic species of cats: indoor and outdoor. Indoor cats are schizophrenic. One minute they are contentedly purring in your lap. The next, they're running around, claws extended, shredding the furniture--or even worse, you.

It is actually only the outdoor species that has nine lives. That's because eight of your neighbors also claim your cat as their own, give him a separate identity and feed him. To expend all those extra calories, like a dog, he chases cars.

What about birds? They squawk. And it seems, from what I've observed, the most popular thing to do with a bird is to stick your hand in its cage and let it peck at you. The longer you can conceal your suffering, the cooler you are.

Fish are the only sensible house pets for the '90s. So that's what I bought my father. Fish are neat to look at, small, quiet, cheap, can't get lost, don't eat much, don't get fleas and they certainly don't chase cars.

And if your fish die, well, they're just dead. No big deal. Down the toilet they go. Then you go to the store and get some more. I know from experience. All our founding fish have since deceased.

All you need to start--and finish, and all the stages in between--is an aquarium, which you can buy second-hand from the classified ads or a garage sale; a water filter; some rocks; plants; water; a few fish and a heater (for tropical fish).

As man searches for a more convenient, more intellectual best friend--and one with better manners than a dog--fish are the obvious choice. Fish wouldn't dare jump on you and lick your face.

- By Carla Pearson

Editor's note: The author is by no means attempting to cause offense to any variety of pet lover. She has been the proud owner of a myriad of pets, and is a supporter of the Humane Society.

Taken from Youth 90 magazine

2,000 METERS to VICTORY

By David Campbell

"Don't worry about the other boats," our coach said. "Just row this one as hard and fast as I know you can."

The big day. "This is it men, this is the race we've been shooting at for three years.

"Just remember what I told you: 2,000 meters is a long race, and the last 500 meters will be won in your head and in your heart. Now let's get out there and row."

We knew if we won this race we would go on the Princess Elizabeth Cup in England. We also knew that the competition was strong, especially the teams from British Columbia and from a local high school. It would be a tough race.

We hefted the boat onto the dock and into the water.

A man who lived sportsmanship

My rowing coach from 1966 to 1968, in my high school days, was the best example of true sportsmanship I have ever had the privilege to see. His name was Neil Campbell.

Neil Campbell never lectured us about sportsmanship, he lived it. He coached a novice team of oarsmen into National Champs in three seasons. Along the way he taught us true sportsmanship and he taught us to be men.

Despite being the lead oarsman, or "stroke," of the Canadian Olympic Rowing Team in 1964, he was a humble man. He'd say, "If you lose, say nothing. If you win, say less." That set the tone. If we bragged or showed off after a win he would chew us out.

He worked us hard. Training began in January, as soon as we came back to school from winter break. He had us run five miles before breakfast. After school we lifted weights and did calisthenics in an unheated building on the edge of campus.

Everything he told us to do, he did--and then some. Once he thought we were getting a little too full of schoolboy bravado, so he challenged us all to a push-up contest. He was about 35 years old at the time.

We all pumped away until only our stroke, Neil and I were left. Moore Newell, our stroke, and I collapsed together at 112. Neil went on to 125!

Rowing in the eight-man shells could not start until early April when the ice was off the river. Even then, it was bitterly cold with an icy wind blowing in off Lake Erie.

Neil would be in an aluminum boat alongside us, freezing and shouting correction and encouragement through a megaphone.

He wouldn't let us get too proud. If we thought we were rowing well because we had just overpowered another team, he would arrange to have the local men's team, who were the Canadian Olympic Team, race against us. They would beat us by five lengths going away. It hurt, but it made us row better. Neil made us dig deeper daily.

The day finally came for the big race, the Canadian National Schoolboy Championships. We remembered him telling us to stay loose; to dismiss the crowds, bands, television, parents and girl friends from our minds. He wanted us to think rowing and nothing else.

Stay loose and row tough

He called us together in the boat house. "Men [it was never 'boys'], you've been taught everything I know about this sport [not, 'I've taught you everything there is to know']. I've seen you get better for three years. I know you can win this race. Don't worry about the other boats. Just row this one as hard and fast as I know you can."

He never lectured us on sportsmanship--he lived it. He made us dig deeper every day.

He gave us some last-minute encouragement as we rowed slowly down toward the starting gate.This was it. The wind was on the beam (a crosswind), which would make it hard to steer and keep the boat level.

"Think over the race in your mind," I could hear Neil saying. "Stay loose and row tough."

We approached the starting gate, and began to turn the racing shell around. Moore Newell pulled out a banana he had brought on board. He calmly peeled it down a bit, took a bite and handed it back to the number seven man. He took a bite and handed it to me. I nibbled and handed it back. The banana went all the way down the boat, much to the distraction of the other boats lined up in the gate. We laughed. We were ready.

The gun fired. We exploded out of the gate and poured the power on. We hit the catch with all we had and bent the shaft to follow through.

It was close. The team from British Columbia was beside us to the 1,500 meter mark. Now our strategy was to sprint home--to take it up to 42 strokes a minute.

We hit 42 and they hit 42. It was still close.

But our 42 was faster than their 42. We broke their hearts by gaining about a foot each stroke.

Finally our conditioning paid off. We won going away. What Neil had said about the last 500 meters was true. Several of us (including me), leaned over the side and threw up. We had nothing left. We had set a course record and we were going to England!

The next day Neil had us out rowing again. When we got to the rowing club, the Olympic team was waiting for us. They beat us by a lot, of course. But it brought Neil's lesson home:

"If you lose, say nothing. If you win, say less."

Taken from Youth 90 magazine

On Her Own

By Michael Warren

When I met Shaaron that spring, she was living in a shelter for the homeless.

Before her, I had met homeless people mostly of the seamier variety--drug-addicted zombies, panhandlers, foul-smelling bag people.

But Shaaron was different. She was intelligent and funny. She was a college student, like me.

And in talking to her I wondered why she allowed me and a photographer to intrude into her life during a crisis. (Others had, understandably, seen the cameras and said forget it.)

She came to Los Angeles because of a fashion school she wanted to attend. Her parents had told her not to come, but she was in her early 20s and decided she could make it on her own.

The trouble began when her roommate, who was assigned by the school, decided to skip town with Shaaron's personal belongings, including her money. "I barely had a bag of clothes left."

Homeless and without work

Without close friends to stay with, she was eventually out on the street. "I couldn't afford it anymore so I left [school] and decided to look for work and I couldn't find any. That's basically how I ended up in a homeless situation."

Her first taste of a homeless shelter was a drug- and rat-infested place where she spent a couple of weeks. Finally, she said, "I told them I wasn't going to go back down there 'cause it was, like, really scary." She laughed. I spent an afternoon in the shelter she was talking about, and laugh was one thing I didn't do.

So she decided to live in the Hyundai that her brother gave her when she moved. One afternoon she was sitting in her car in the Salvation Army parking lot trying to figure out what to do. She didn't have enough gas to get far. With the window opened a crack she dozed off.

"I woke up to tapping on the window," she said, "and I looked up and there was a man there, and he was drunk. He started banging on the window. He was yelling in the crack, so I pulled my seat up and started to turn the engine on--I don't know what he had on top of the car, his liquor or whatever--and I started driving and it fell off... I heard him yelling, and I didn't know if it was because I ran over his feet or because his liquor fell."

After that she parked and slept in the emergency lot of a hospital because it was safer. She used a fast-food restaurant rest room to clean up before job interviews.

Once when she went to the store someone stole her car stereo and ruined the door lock. After that, she had trouble sleeping.

Humor and depression

I asked her: "You seem to have kept such a good attitude. How did you do that?"

"I just have a great sense of humor about things," she said. "I'm not the type who gets those attitudes, who really gets worried."

"It's an experience, it really is." She said her past six months have been enough to write a book about. "I get depressed lots of times. I've sat in here and cried lots of times... but it's a lot better than sleeping out on a sidewalk like the rest of them."

The shelter where I met her was one of the best in Southern California--a remodeled motel. She'd been there three weeks. "In the time that you get, you really have to get out there and get on interviews."

It's no easy task, though. She made the mistake of giving some potential employers the shelter's phone number. When they realized they were dealing with a homeless woman, they hung up.

"That's the only reason we're homeless is because we can't get hired," she said.

I asked her why she didn't just call her family and have them come to her rescue.

"I wouldn't want to," she said, "because I was bold enough and determined enough to come out here on my own.

"Basically they don't know because I haven't told them. Because I feel really bad."

She had a week left of her free month's stay at the shelter, but she didn't have a job yet.

"It is kind of scary, but like I said, there's a book coming out of it," she said and then laughed.

She called her experience "research," the same thing I was calling it. Only her research was more difficult than mine, I thought as I drove home that evening.

Editor's note: Shaaron had a lot going for her when she left home. Runaways--homeless teens--have far less.

Taken from Youth 90 magazine