My mom was born in Nairobi, Kenya in 1950.

Growing up the youngest of eight kids in a small house off the downtown core, she was quiet, shy, and always the baby. Her three older brothers received the bulk of the family’s praise, attention, and money for education, while the girls were taught to sweep floors, work the stove, and scrub the work clothes clean.

My mom used to sit on her front porch and memorize all the license plates of cars that drove by. She’d guess the numbers from a distance, silently congratulating herself when she got one right. Quiet nights in the corner of the clattery kitchen, she’d study math under dim lights and curious gazes.

In 1963, she wrote the government’s standard National Exam with every other 13-year-old in the country. And she aced it.

Suddenly a fat scholarship dropped on her and she was whisked off to a preppy English boarding school in the countryside. The next few years were full of reciting The Lord’s Prayer, memorizing Shakespeare passages, and eating soft-boiled eggs in the corner of the school cafeteria.

After hitting the books hard away from friends and family, she graduated and started correspondence classes from an accounting institution in England, eventually earning her letters and moving to London and start auditing the books of big companies. It was there she met my dad while he was visiting from Canada and it was there that they got married before moving to a small, dusty suburb an hour east of Toronto.

She got a job at General Motors, saw her first dentist, ate her first hamburger, and signed up for a subscription to Reader’s Digest. When I was growing up she’d tell me her coworkers always asked what she was doing there. “Let me get this straight,” they’d begin. “You lived in Nairobi.  You lived in London. How’d you end up in this small town?”

But it was in that small town she had my sister and me and it was in that small town she showered us with love every day since we were born. Although I never knew my grandparents my mom filled the void with unending praise and patience.

She took me to the library Saturday mornings and helped me slowly finger-read Hardy Boys books. She signed my sister and I up for camps and let us quit if we came home crying. When I routinely got pegged first playing dodgeball at Boy Scouts or broke my glasses playing soccer, she was always there, ready with a hug, and an “It’s okay, Neil, it’s okay… it’s okay.”

For about six months last year I was getting three or four  hours of sleep a night balancing my day job, updating 1000 Awesome Things, and writing The Book of Awesome. On top of that, I was walking with a heavy heart and heavy mind, but more on that later. Every few weeks over those six months my mom took the commuter train to my downtown apartment with a big canvas bag and loaded up my freezer with homemade food.

And before she left she’d reach up to give me a big hug and say “Don’t forget to take a break.”

Below are three emails she sent me over the past year.

———- Forwarded message ———-
Hey Neil :

I hope you found someone to enjoy 24 with.

I hope you feel in a good place.  We are fine & you always know where & how to find us.

We will talk some time …probably sounds like towards the end of the week.  That is fine.  Keep in touch whichever way is easy for you.  Reading your blog always brings a smile to my face & I  feel like I am talking to you.

Love You.
Mom

———- Forwarded message ———-

Look forward to reading your Blog tomorrow.  I could picture me in your blog today : waving at people from my rocking chair.  Dad has got the hang of your Blog & he has joined the Fan club too.

Love You : mom

———- Forwarded message ———-

Your Website has become like my daily dose of Vitamin C.  Upon awakening, I do my Yoga practice for an hour.  After that, I am usually ready for my brekkie.  Thereafter,  I can’t wait to run upstairs with my cup of tea to read up on 1000 Awesomethings.

This week has been great each & every day.  Not to mention the fact that I feel like I had a small conversation with you.

Thank you so much for this opportunity.

Love : Your Mother

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So this one goes out to the moms of the world. This one goes out to the people who raised you. I know I wouldn’t have made it without that love and support and I’m sure some of you are in the same place. So moms, thank you for teaching us to read, thanks for cheering our dreams, and thanks for helping us grow up to become a little more

AWESOME!

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This post is Part 2 of 1 2 3 4 5

Photos from: here, here, here, here and here

Howdy, y’all.

As you may have noticed by the pictures up here, The Book of Awesome was recently made available for pre-order. I’m massively pumped about it and wanted to share my stories and my excitement with you this week.

Now, over the past year, many folks have mentioned how much reading about Awesome Things has meant to them. Of course, writing about them has meant an enormous amount to me, too. Part of the reason I wanted to write the book was because I know there are lots of folks who maybe aren’t online that much, don’t read blogs, or just haven’t found us, who might enjoy Awesome Things as much as we do. I hope the book helps spread the awesome and makes more people smile.

And, let’s be honest, this is really all because of you. This book wouldn’t be here without your support and anyone who ever receives a copy from a friend or family member owes you a boatload for tuning in, commenting, voting us for awards, and spreading the awesome around the intertubes.

With T-minus-2 months until the book publishes on April 15th, I thought now might be the right time to share some stories about what led up to this blog and book.

I’ll share stories about me for the rest of this week but start today by sharing some that have been sent in which the authors have kindly allowed me to publish. See, I don’t mention it much but there have definitely been many late nights where I thought I might not be able to do it anymore. There have been long days and bumpy moments where I thought maybe I’d run out of steam and would need to stop the awesome countdown.

But it’s stories like the ones below that pop up in my inbox and give me energy right when I need it most.

I hope you like them.

STORY #1

——–— Forwarded message ———-
From: Kathy
Subject: Your site
To: 1000 Awesome Things

Since my husband passed away in 2005 at the young age of 58 and leaving me a widow at the very young age of 50 and greiving simply and fervently for almost 6 months, I came to realize all the simple joys in the day. I now work at an activity center for developmentally disabled adults, our mission statement is ‘helping them become more independent and integrating them into the community’……..and a lot of the joy I have in a day happens there.
Today I came across your website and I have to say…….this is the absolute BEST website on the internet. You have created something that the worlds population should go to every single day of their lives and read at least one awesomething…..It puts the world into perepective and helps realize that life isn’t so bad…….and theres always something to find joy in…..always a little thing to pay attention to….something to make the day better and make tomorrow something within reach no matter how desolate our situation is.
Thank you for creating your site…..I have bookmarked it and put a shortcut on my desktop as a reminder to go there daily……keep up the good work…….you have made my day brighter!!!
Kathy

STORY #2

Depression is something I have to struggle with on a daily basis. Some days are worse than others, and this past weekend has been unusually rough for me… I found the site, while reading through the comments of another site… and I just want to say thank you.

Hi Neil,

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Yes, sharing stories with friends brings us all closer together. In these anonymous days of gated communities, big-box stores, and rampant Interneting, stories have a magnetic power to connect us and help us realize we’re never truly alone. Whether we’re talking about wordless apologies, intergenerational dancing, or tripping and realizing nobody saw you, it’s always inspiring to realize we’re all in this together, moving forward day by day, on the same big ship, on the same big ocean.

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Here’s to sharing your stories with friends.

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AWESOME!

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This post is Part 1 of 1 2 3 4 5

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Photos from: here, here, here, and here

Thanks for the tight squeeze before you hit the road. We’ll miss you too.

Later, baby.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here

Etched and sketched into the spider web recesses of our brains are all kinds of cold storage items and garage sale knick-knacks we don’t really use anymore. But once in a while it’s fun to reach back, back, way back, and discover that our creaky treasure chests are holding bits of buried gold.

Realizing you still remember old phone numbers gives a great smile-and-sunshine vibe. Lips curl, eyes twinkle, and memory reels start whirring on the rusty projector as you remember dialing those digits, day after day, day after, day after day. Making plans for the park, grumbling about teachers, whispering about cute classmates late at night, you just suddenly remember those times, those moments, and those old, old friends.

Dial them up today.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here

The other day my friend Gillian was telling us about the first time her mom used a computer.

It was a long time ago, back, back, way back, and the story goes that the whole family was unpacking their new heavy, chunky PC in the middle of the living room. Styrofoam was cracked apart, boxes were torn up, and then they all slowly gathered around this big gray Box of the Future, waiting for its information powers and knowledge showers to rain down upon them.

Now, most of the fam had used a computer before so someone suggested mom get her e-groove on first. A lamp was turned on, a shiny wooden chair brought from the kitchen, and mom sat down while the machine booted up. Then, while everybody was waiting, she slowly and carefully unwrapped the mouse from its plastic bag and calmly put it on the floor by her foot.

And then, while everybody watched, Gillian’s mom slowly mimed typing and started pushing her foot on the mouse like a sewing machine pedal.

It was a hilariously cute moment.

Because we were all there once, too.

Sure, maybe you didn’t think stepping on the mouse made the computer go, but you probably were an awkward pile of keyboard konfusion as you got up to speed. Maybe you took a tutorial to learn how to double-click or you signed up for DOS classes down at the city center.

But come on, no matter what, no matter when, you know it’s totally true: You once sucked at computers, too.

But then over time you got a bit better, then a bit better, then a bit better, and now you’re pretty good. You started double-clicking instead of triple-clicking, changed your resolution from super zoomed-in to super zoomed-out, and started ALT-TABing like your life depended on it.

You turned into e-You, a barely recognizable quick-clicking Year 3000 cyborg version of yourself.

Now, the thing is that way, way down deep in your core you’re still the same person who touched a computer for the first time and learned everything from scratch. That girl’s still part of you. That guy’s still part of you.

You still remember the excitement you felt as you learned all those tips and tricks. And that’s really what makes it exciting as you keep learning tips and tricks. Yes, whether it’s a new keyboard shortcut or how to whistle, whether it’s stopping on skates or playing Stairway to Heaven, you still feel the joy of learning buzzing through your body every day.

See, you weren’t sure if you could do it, but then you tried it, and then you could. You practiced and practiced and practiced or maybe it suddenly dawned on you over time. Learning a new keyboard shortcut feels great.

That’s because learning anything feels

AWESOME!

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Illustration from: here

Photos from: here, here, and here

This is also known as The Pity Laugh and it somehow manages to save your terrible joke from being a complete bomb. See, now you didn’t serve up a dud that hit dead air. No, no, your humor is just a little high brow and hard to understand, that’s all.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here

If your body starts getting used to that hot water it’s time to crank up the heat to keep the steam coming. Or if you’re in a race against the tank just turn that dial without mercy and get ready to lean back, relax, and sweat it all out.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here

There you are holding a dozen eggs behind a guy slow-rolling a fat shopping cart stuffed with frozen pizzas, cases of soda, and piles of produce in plastic bags. But just as your eyes start skimming the tabloid headlines and you steady yourself for a long wait, he peeks back and notices your tiny purchase and offers you the next spot in line.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here

My friend Joey got his face ripped off last week.

Yeah, while staring at his cheek in the mirror a few months back he noticed a a small rubbery bump below the surface of his skin. Few months, few phone calls, few appointments later he found himself under the knife in a five-hour surgery getting a chestnut sized tumor slowly untied and airlifted out of a knotty nest of nerves in a high stakes game of Operation.

Thankfully he’s okay and he’s all better and he’s managed to bounce over a pretty bumpy hill in life. We were all pretty nervous but he’s come out clean on the other side.

Plus, now he’s got a crazy scar from his ear down to his neck to show for it.

And sure, over the years the stitches will drop out, hair might grow over, and the lines on his face could slowly fade away. But he’s really got a reminder every day of how lucky he is to be alive. He added some dents and scratches to his life story.

And unless you’re a baby-powder-smelling ball of smooth skin and giggles, I’m betting your flesh and bones is covered with some gashes, scratches, scabs and stains, too.

Maybe it’s that fleshy scar on your hand from the eighth grade fistfight. You were on the bus back from shop class throwing pockets of sawdust around when tempers flared and a couple headlocks later you tripped and hit the ground.

Maybe it’s the ghost of that Giant Zit of ’97 on your forehead. Did you squeeze it too hard before prom and end up with a bad cover-up job? If so, maybe you can still find your old friend in that photo album, wedged tightly between up-dos, wrist corsages, and freshly pressed tuxes.

Maybe it’s a blurry tattoo you got with distant friends you don’t speak to anymore. You were young, you were graduating, you wanted a memento of getting through a tough year together. And you got it.

It’s the zippery line up your groin from the hernia, the tingly bump in your collarbone from the monkey bars, or the big birthmark on your back you’ve hidden under bathing suits for years.

But whatever yours are, wherever yours are, and however you got them, one thing’s for sure: your bumps and scratches are part of your life and part of your story. They’re part of your lows… and part of your glories. Yes, they’re memories of bad decisions and reminders of good ones. And they all come together in a nicely wrapped package that we like to call… you.

See, we’re all a bit bent, we’re all a bit busted, we’re all a bit broken, we’re all bit rusted. Underneath all the crinkly jeans and wrinkly shirts are beautifully personal collections of hairy legs, scratchy scars, and spotty skin.

So take a second to stop today and love all your scabs and patches. Just kiss those moles and rub those bumps and smile at all your scratches.

AWESOME!

Psst, take a second to check for lumps today.

Photos from: here, here, and here

When this happens it’s like your day is winking at you. It sort of feels like all the mysteries of the world are about to unfold before your eyes as the universe puts up its hand and says “Hey, stop for a second!”

Also applies to 11:11.

AWESOME!

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Photo from: here