Jesus addressed to me today:

    "No servant can serve two masters.

     Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. " (Luke 16:13 NIV).   

PS: It s also true in other aspects of people's life.  

Living Slow in Italy - Dreams Do Come True

We are moving to Italy. I have repeated that statement countless times over the last few months as we have made the announcement to family, friends and acquaintances. No matter how many times I utter the phrase it never seems routine and never fails to make me feel a little giddy. We are moving to Italy.

Which just goes to show that dreams can come true. We started imagining what it would be like to live overseas several years and several (slow) trips ago. We decided, finally, after much thought and debating and waffling, to follow the old ad slogan and "just do it". Why? Why not! Life is short. Let's live it while we have breath and energy.

It just seemed like a good time. We decided that the fear of change was far outweighed by the fear of complacency. We didn't want to put off the living part of "making a living" until it seemed that we were - to quote Joe Dominguez in his book Your Money or Your Life - "making a dying" instead. "These hours are all you've got. There is nothing in your life that is more valuable than your time, the moments you have left. You cannot put too much awareness and intention into the way you invest those moments" So we've decided to take some of these precious moments of our lives and invest them in this dream.

Why Italy? We became enamored on our first trip. By the third visit, we returned home and quickly started to long for the piazzas where people gathered; evening strolls where the entire town turns out to flood the streets in a nightly parade of interaction; leisurely meals prepared with fresh, seasonal ingredients. A sense of community. The beautiful rhythms of life being carried on from time immemorial, still a part of daily Italian culture. So many aspects of our own culture began to seem so gaudy, new, shallow, homogenized ... fake. We decided we'd like to experience this historical and beautiful land while it still retains these cultural elements we so admire.

We love the solidly-built stone houses. Buildings that are centuries old being lived in and oozing charm. Heavy wooden shutters on the windows. Kitchens with fireplaces for roasting meats. Colorful weekly markets that roll into town with arrays of fresh produce and other goods. People who know how to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and place heavy emphasis on human relationships. Stunning and awe-inspiring art and architecture at nearly every turn. Picturesque vineyards and olive groves providing healthful harvests. Millennia of history to explore and study. A musical-sounding language to learn. Real cappuccino, not the overly-milky, $3.00 a cup insipid, burned-tasting stuff passed off as "cappuccino" here. These are among the reasons we want to move.

We're not retired. And we're not independently wealthy. Just a couple of average middle-class Americans who decided to cash in by selling our house and using a portion of the funds to spend a year (or more) in bella Italia.

This decision drew some interesting reactions. Most said, "good for you, be happy." Others seemed almost angry. One relation called to say we shouldn't rush into things or run away from responsibility, as if we'd just woke up one morning and said, "golly, let's move to Italy." He continued to offer helpful advice, saying we shouldn't waste our retirement fund on this endeavor. We're adventurous, not moronic! Our retirement accounts are safe. We set aside half the proceeds of our home sale for our eventual return to the U.S., which will provide us with ample funds to re-establish ourselves when the time comes. The rest of the money will allow us to spend at least a year abroad and cover all our necessities. Because we can live frugally, we are confident we'll realistically have enough for two years' living expenses. It also helps that friends in Rome generously offered us the use of their summer home in Anzio rent-free for several months. It will be a tough assignment, but we'll pass the summer months leisurely one block from the Mediterranean in a pretty cottage.

We've spent the past six months navigating the murky waters of bureaucracy, figuring out how to apply for an extended-stay visa and all the accompanying paperwork involved in that. Now that it's mostly complete, we can turn our attention toward the anticipation and planning for our arrival in Rome in April. We can look at webcams and sigh contentedly, knowing we'll be there soon.

What will we do there is the question we are asked most often. Because we can't legally work in Italy, there seems to be concern that we'll be idle and bored. Not on your life! Our full-time occupation will be learning Italian. I'll indulge my great love of history and enjoy the company of my true love, Bryan, unencumbered by stressful work situations. Make friends and renew old friendships. Observe cultural differences and place ourselves into the local rhythm of life. Shop in the local produce and fish markets. Write. Eat. Study. Stroll. Learn. Love. Live.

That is the sum of our dream. We are pursuing it now because we don't want to look back with regret, to wonder "what if" or "if only..." No, that's not for us.

Is it all going to be beautiful and fulfilling? I honestly don't know. But I can't wait to find out.

ps:虽然知道无人会看, 但是还是想贴在这里. (某日在网上看到的一篇文章...)

我五会无缘无故的贴这么长的文章出来，你看完就知道了...I promise..

Address by Jerry Zucker

May 20, 2003

About Author:

Hollywood producer & director Jerry Zucker earned a bachelor of science degree in radio, TV and film from the University of Wisconsin in 1972. Along with his brother David and friend Jim Abrahams, Zucker has been responsible for such comedy classics as "Ruthless People," "Airplane" and "Kentucky Fried Movie," as well as the television series "Police Squad."

Thank you Chancellor Wiley, distinguished platform party, friends, guests and the very reason for our presence here today — the members of the class of 2003.

Before I start my remarks, I'd like everyone just to do something for me. Very simply — so everyone can kind of just get to know everyone else — on the count of three, I'd like everyone to turn around and shake the hand of the person sitting right behind you. One, two, three — right now, everybody, please do that.

So, I guess you still have a few things to learn.

My parents cried when I left for California. Not because I was leaving, (but) rather, I think, because they were afraid I'd be coming back. Not one teacher I ever had in grade school, high school or college would've believed that there was even the slightest chance that one day I would be asked to give the commencement address at a major university.

Many, given the opportunity, would've bet large sums of money against it, putting up their homes and children as collateral. Actually, I really like the idea of that, not because I'm vindictive — although in a few minutes I'm going to read the names of all the people in my life who never thought I would amount to anything — but because life should be unpredictable. And I'm very grateful that I never wasted any time trying to become somebody else's image of what I should be.

So, thirty-one years ago today, I drove from Madison, Wisconsin, to Los Angeles, California. On the way, I passed Camp Randall, where my college graduation ceremony was in progress. I thought about going to the ceremony, but it meant I would've arrived in Hollywood one day later, and at the time I just didn't see the point. I wanted to get there.

Gertrude Stein once said about Hollywood, "When you get there, there is no 'there' there." That's true. However, there will be a swimming pool and tennis court. In the end, though, it's probably not enough to justify a life's journey. Getting there, particularly in show business, is tough enough. You need a combination of talent, ambition, luck and a willingness to tell actors how beautiful they look today.

In retrospect, getting there was the easy part. Finding a "there" there is much harder. So today, before you get into your cars and race off to the rest of your lives, I want to give you some advice on how to get there. And I want to help make sure that when you get there, you find a "there" there.

To that end, I will give you my five rules to think about, quickly forget, but years from now kick yourself for not having listened to.

#1. Don't think about your future, especially right now. You'll miss my speech. There will be plenty of time to contemplate your future right after the ceremony, but then you'll miss all the celebrating and adulation. So just wait until you get home and have a good think about something that will happen in the future that will make you happy.

When I graduated from college, I spent a lot of time thinking about how cool it would be to be on the Johnny Carson show. A few years later, it happened. We appeared on the "Tonight" show, Joey Bishop was the guest host. We were dreadful. For years I ran into people who would stop me and say, "Hey, I saw you on the "Tonight" show. Huh... What's Joey Bishop like?" Eventually I got over the embarrassment, but I never got those years back — years I spent waiting for some future event to make me happy. I had tricked myself into thinking, "As soon as I get there, I'll be OK."

I work in a business where almost everyone is waiting for the next big thing. Sometimes it comes, and sometimes it doesn't. But it doesn't matter that your dream came true if you spent your whole life sleeping. So get out there and go for it, but don't be caught waiting. It's great to plan for your future. Just don't live there, because really nothing ever happens in the future. Whatever happens happens now, so live your life where the action is — now. And one more thing: If you're going to be on television, don't call your friends and tell them to watch until after you've seen it.

#2: Don't do anything that 30 years from now you'll look back at and say, "Oh, my God, why the hell did I do that?!" I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard someone start a sentence with, "If only, when I was younger, I would have...." So I did a little informal survey for you, and I found out that, amazingly, all these people had the same regret. When they graduated from college, sadly, they bought furniture.

This probably needs a little explanation. Right at this moment in your life, you are in a unique position that you may never ever be in again. You have nothing to lose. Everything you have acquired of value is locked inside you. If you have a dream, now is the time to pursue it, before you buy furniture.

I was one of the lucky ones. I graduated from the University of Wisconsin with no employable skills, unless you count jury duty. It meant I had to start from scratch and figure out where I fit in. I didn't have money, but I could afford to fail, and there were many failures. But I found out what I was good at. I found something I loved. And now I have furniture — lots of furniture.

#3: Mrs. Zubatsky's law. One day when I was a kid, our house caught on fire in Milwaukee. A large section of the wood shingle roof was burning as the fire trucks pulled up. The firemen ran into the back yard with a large hose and began assembling their metal ladders and positioning them against the house.

Mrs. Zubatsky was our next door neighbor and, at the time, she was standing on her upstairs porch taking in the laundry. She watched anxiously as the firemen struggled with their ladders. Suddenly she leaned over the balcony and shouted down to the professional firefighters, "Forget the ladders! Just point the hose at the fire!" The firemen, to their credit, responded immediately. They dropped their ladders, pointed the hose at the fire and extinguished the blaze in about 40 seconds.

There are two morals to this story. One, never assume that just because it's someone's job, they know how to do it. And two, don't let yourself be intimidated by professionals or their uniforms.

Growing up in Wisconsin, I never knew anyone in the movie business. I never even knew anyone who knew anyone in the movie business. That world had a mystique that made it seem unattainable to me. But, like Mrs. Zubatsky, I sat on my porch and I watched someone else do it, and I said, "I have a better idea." And like her, I seized the moment.

If you have a better idea, if your plan makes more sense, if you have a vision, then put down your laundry and scream a little bit. Throw your hat into the ring and never let professionals or their uniforms prevent you from telling anyone where to point their hose.

#4: If you're going to fail, fail big. If you don't, you're never going to make a difference. Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. Ask yourself one question: If I didn't have to do it perfectly, what would I try? For many of you, the biggest obstacle to getting there will be a fear that you have carried with your since childhood — the fear of humiliation, of embarrassment, of ridicule. That is SO stupid! Oh ... sorry. But really, you have to stop caring about that, which brings me to Travolta's law.

My brother David and Jim Abrahams and I were having pie at Rumpelmeyer's Coffee Shop in New York on the day after our third movie, "Top Secret," opened. The reviews were terrible and it was bombing at the box office. We were really getting into some serious moping and self-flagellation when John Travolta walked in. We knew him from the Paramount lot and he could see right away that we were in a funk. We immediately poured out our heart to him, explaining the pain of our humiliating misfortune.

I'm not sure what we were expecting, but John just smiled and said, "Guys, the thing you have to remember is (that) nobody else is paying as much attention to your failures as you are. You're the only ones who are obsessed with the importance of your own life. To everyone else, it's just a blip on the radar screen, so just move on. By the way, are you going to finish that pie?"

I found that advice very liberating — that the only one who my big failure was truly big for was me. So I thanked him and told him how beautiful he looked today, and now when I fail big, I just go out and have a piece of apple pie and I move on. And I always save a little piece for John Travolta. Amazingly, more often than not he shows up to eat it.

#5: The next time you go into a restaurant, please don't look at the waitress and say, "Can I get some ketchup?" You're supposed to say, "May I please have some ketchup?" Sorry — that doesn't count. Just a personal pet peeve of mine.

The real #5: Don't overuse the word "love." Everyone overuses the word "love." "I love your shoes." "I just love the new Justin Guarini CD." "I really love those little things they put on the chicken sandwiches at Subway." In Hollywood, they say "Love ya, babe!" So, OK, I get it. It's just the way people talk and it's probably harmless, but you shouldn't forget the real thing. The real thing is great. It's just not so easy with actual human beings, but if you work at it and you get it right, it will make you happier than anything else you do in your life.

Think of the world as a big glass of water with some salt in it. You have a choice. You can try to pick out all the salt or you can keep pouring in more water so eventually it gets less bitter. As you begin your new journey, you can try to remove everything that you find distasteful in the world, or you can just pour in more love. It's the only thing that the more you give away, the more you have.

So take all that warm, fuzzy stuff you've been hiding and spread it around a little. And then judge yourself not by your accomplishments, but by the happiness of the people around you. If you do that, you can do anything, you can go anywhere, you can fail at anything, and wherever you are, you will find a "there" there, because you'll bring it with you.

I would like to conclude with a sad, but true, story from my childhood. When I was a young boy of only 7, it was decided that I should take piano lessons. This is a true story, by the way. I swear. I studied piano for three years and learned to play one song poorly, which actually turned out to be an improvement over high school. Nobody was willing to tell me that I had no musical talent whatsoever. Finally, after three years, I was invited by my piano teacher, Mr. Dillman, to play in a recital. I was told recently that Mr. Dillman twitched visibly when my name was mentioned at his funeral.

I can't answer for others, but I was very excited that I was at last going to play my song in front of an audience. The day of the recital arrived. That morning, I got the chicken pox and, tragically, I never got to play my song. But today I've taken the liberty of bringing with me a small keyboard and, with your permission, I will finally get to play my song in front of an audience. I swear to you (that) this is the song that I learned to play after three years — the only song I know how to play on the piano. I think you will see that the lesson is patience. There comes a time for everything.

(Jerry played a flawed version of "On Wisconsin," inviting the audience to sing along, and then concluded his remarks.)

Congratulations! Welcome to real life! You graduated from the University of Wisconsin! You can do anything! Thank you.