What is—and isn’t—critical thinking

and how we can use it to improve ourselves and those around us

Whenever I’ve talked about the need for critical thinking, I’ve noticed that those who need it most are usually the ones who agree most—but for other people!

Maybe this stems from our volatile society, but our collective exasperation (outrage?) at others’ points of view is certainly exacerbated by a lack of critical thinking by all parties.

I don’t consider myself a master critical thinker, but at least I can see how most political ads break every rule of sound and fair reasoning. (Of course, their purpose is to vilify opponents with innuendo, appeals to irrational fears, outright lies, distortions and half-truths; and a creative lack of depth, breadth, clarity or fairness. For that, they do a pretty consistent job—however unprincipled!)

But let’s start with clarity.

What critical thinking is not: using a judgmental spirit to find fault, assign blame, cancel, or censure.

What critical thinking is: using a disciplined thought process to discern what is clear, rational, open-minded, and informed by evidence.

After all, we are what we think. Our attitudes, feelings, words, and actions are all determined by the quality of our thinking. Unrealistic thinking leads to disappointment; pessimistic thinking spurns joy; practical thinking builds productivity; grateful thinking grows appreciation; and affirmative thinking leads to possibilities and opportunities.

Our brains do a pretty good job in identifying patterns and fixed procedures that require minimal consideration. It allows us to function efficiently in familiar zones and predictable routines. And hardwired in all of us is a prioritized egocentric core to protect our personal interests. But increasingly, our progressively diverse world and its unrelenting pace of change requires analytical thinking that is more vigorous, more complex, more adaptable, and more sensitive to divergent views—if we are not to degenerate into the dystopian futures of our movies!

That kind of elevated thinking is reasoning, which draws conclusions about what we know, or can discover, about anything. To reason well, we must intentionally process the information we receive. What are we trying to understand? What is its purpose? How can we check its accuracy? Do we have a limited, shaded, or jaded point of view? What is fact, what is evidence, and what is interpretation? What is the question or problem we are trying to solve? What assumptions are in our inherent biases, and how can we move away from them? What are the ultimate implications or consequences?

Our reasoning, therefore, needs standards with which to measure, compare and contrast all the bits of information in order to come to a meaningful and fair conclusion. Such intellectual standards include clarity, precision, accuracy, significance, relevance, logicalness, fairness, breadth and depth.

In the absence of these reasoning standards, we default to our self-centeredness, which inevitably leads to gnashing of teeth, biased irrationality, and social regrets. But when we vigorously apply these standards, we develop a capacity for fairmindedness, rational action, and healthy societies. This intellectual clash for the mastery of our own minds frames two incompatible ends:

Virtues for fair-minded rationality      Vices inhibiting fair-minded rationality
intellectual humility                                        intellectual arrogance
intellectual autonomy                                    intellectual conformity
intellectual empathy                                      intellectual self-centeredness
intellectual civility                                            intellectual rudeness
intellectual curiosity                                        intellectual apathy
intellectual discipline                                      intellectual laziness
intellectual integrity                                        intellectual hypocrisy

Here is a starter set of questions for better thinking and reasoning, drawn from the critically acclaimed book Critical Thinking, by Richard Paul and Linda Elder:

  • Clarity: Could you elaborate or give an example?
  • Precision: Could you be more specific?
  • Accuracy: How can we verify or test that?
  • Significance: Which of these facts are most important?
  • Relevance: How does that relate to, or help with the issue?
  • Fairness: Are my assumptions supported by evidence? Is my thinking justifiable in context?
  • Logicalness: Does what you say follow from the evidence?
  • Depth: What are some of the complexities of this issue?

Informed reasoning leads to better self-management, better understanding and relationships between people and groups—and ultimately, a better, more cooperative society. And let it begin with me.

2022 Reading Roundup

I have a standing personal rule: Always Bring a Book!

Whenever I break it, I’m inevitably sorry.

Books are important to me: in them I find distilled wisdom, practical instruction, and engrossing entertainment. They customize my intellectual, psychological, and spiritual development; they build my technical and relational capabilities; they expand my leadership and service; they refresh my mind and spirit.

In 2022, my wife, son and I wrote a book about the challenges, lessons and adventures in raising our youngest son with Asperger’s Syndrome, which will be published this coming year.

I try to read widely. Not all my choices pertain directly to my job, or my personal interests. Invisible Women opened my eyes and mind to systemic male-based data bias. Even fiction, when it represents a divergent point of view, can add to my useful stores of knowledge. Case in point for this year: The Personal Librarian, based on the true story of a black woman passing as a white woman in the employ of J.P. Morgan in the early 1900s.

The complete list follows, but here are my personal citations for those I’ve found most captivating, memorable, or practical in the following categories:

Work-related: CEO Excellence; Critical Thinking; Extreme Ownership
Biography: Frederick Douglass; An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth
History: The First Conspiracy: The Plot to Kill George Washington
Iconic/Classic: Travels with Charley in Search of America
Fiction: Where the Crawdads Sing; West With Giraffes; The Personal Librarian
Science: Humble Pi; Brilliant Maps for Curious Minds
Societal: Invisible Women; Untrustworthy
Thriller: Boar Island
Humor: The Definitive Biography of P.D.Q. Bach
Spiritual: The Hole in Our Gospel
by personal friends: Super Powers and Secrets; Crushed and Marred; Stand; People Connectors

  1. Creativity, Inc: Overcoming the Unseen Forces that Stand in the Way of True Inspiration, Ed Catmull
  2. Humble Pi: When Math Goes Wrong in the Real World, Matt Parker
  3. Super Powers and Secrets: A Year of Holidays, H. Kaeppel
  4. Crushed and Marred: A Year of Milestones, H. Kaepple
  5. Stand: A Year of Firsts, H. Kaeppel
  6. The Itty Bitty Book of Nonprofit Fundraising, Jayme Dingler
  7. The Insanity of God: A True Story of Faith Resurrected, Nik Ripken
  8. Golden Girl, Elin Hilderbrand
  9. Flashback, Nevada Barr
  10. Trees & Forests of America, Tim Palmer
  11. Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom, David W. Blight
  12. Sold on a Monday, Kristina McMorris
  13. The Hole in Our Gospel, Richard Stearns
  14. Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman! Adventures of a Curious Character, Richard P. Feynman
  15. The Gift of Asperger’s: One Family’s Persevering Adventure of Hope, Humor, Insight and Inspiration, Tim Herd, Carol Herd, and Philip Herd
  16. A Time for Mercy, John Grisham
  17. Historic Acadia National Park: The Stories Behind One of America’s Great Treasures, Catherine Schmidt
  18. Brilliant Maps for Curious Minds: 100 New Ways to See the World, Ian Wright
  19. Girl Behind the Red Rope, Ted Dekker and Rachelle Dekker
  20. Tesla: Inventor of the Electrical Age, W. Bernard Carlson
  21. The Escape Artist, Brad Melzner
  22. People Connectors: Elevating Communication for Educators, Terry Sumerlin
  23. The First Conspiracy: The Secret Plot to Kill George Washington, Brad Meltzner and Josh Mensch
  24. We Seven, by the Astronauts Themselves, Carpenter, Cooper, Glenn, Grissom, Schirra, Shepard, Slayton
  25. What Happened to the Bennetts, Lisa Scottoline
  26. The Definitive Biography of P.D.Q. Bach, Professor Peter Schickele
  27. Wait, What? And Life’s Other Essential Questions, James Ryan
  28. High Country, Nevada Barr
  29. Hard Truth, Nevada Barr
  30. Eight Days in May: The Final Collapse of the Third Reich, Volker Ullrich
  31. Endangered Species, Nevada Barr
  32. An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth: What Going to Space Taught Me About Ingenuity, Determination, and Being Prepared for Everything, Col. Chris Hadfield
  33. Blind Descent, Nevada Barr
  34. Immanuel’s Veins, Ted Dekker
  35. Thinking Like Your Editor: How to Write Great Serious Nonfiction – and Get it Published, Susan Rabiner and Alfred Fortunato
  36. Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, Caroline Criado Perez
  37. The Lost Key, Catherine Coulter and J.T. Ellison
  38. Burn, Ted Dekker and Erin Healy
  39. The Whole Town’s Talking, Fannie Flagg
  40. Acadia National Park, Bob Thayer
  41. Where the Crawdads Sing, Delia Owens
  42. CEO Excellence: The Six Mindsets That Distinguish the Best Leaders From the Rest, Carolyn Dewar, Scott Keller, and Vikram Malhotra
  43. Burn, Nevada Barr
  44. The Murder of King Tut, James Patterson and Martin Dugard
  45. Thinking in Pictures: My Life With Autism, Temple Grandin
  46. Calling All Minds: How to Think and Create Like and Inventor, Temple Grandin
  47. The Life You’ve Always Wanted: Spiritual Disciplines for Ordinary People, John Ortberg
  48. Boar Island, Nevada Barr
  49. Critical Thinking: Tools for Taking Charge of Your Professional and Personal Life, Richard Paul and Linda Elder
  50. The Rope, Nevada Barr
  51. A Man Called Ova, Fredrik Backman
  52. The Personal Librarian, Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray
  53. Extreme Ownership: How U.S. Navy SEALS Lead and Win, Jocko Willink and Leif Babin
  54. Untrustworthy: The Knowledge Crisis Breaking Our Brains, Polluting Our Politics, and Corrupting Christian Community, Bonnie Kristian
  55. Send: Living a Life That Invites Others to Jesus, Heather Holleman and Ashley Holleman
  56. West With Giraffes, Lynda Rutledge
  57. Dr. Rick Will See You Now: A Guide to Unbecoming Your Parents, Dr. Rick
  58. Travels With Charley in Search of America, John Steinbeck
  59. The Business of Heaven, C.S. Lewis
  60. My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers

A slater’s legacy

remembering the day the photographer came to town in 1903

It appears my great-grandpa Edwin Henry Herd (1869-1949) is still in the public eye!

In October this year, I was honored to speak for Anniversary Sunday at the church in which I grew up, and which was a Herd haven since Edwin served as its Lay Leader. In fact, several of my ancestors have their names memorialized in the stained glass windows! (Shown: William and Elizabeth Herd, Edwin’s parents, who had been born in the 1830s in Devon, England.)

I spoke on Our Spiritual Heritage, and was able to weave in some of the old family stories and photos associated with the history of Chapman Quarries United Methodist Church.

One of them is this portrait of the Chapman Slate Co. work crew, dated October 16, 1903, which includes Edwin, just above center, wearing a round hat with the number 22 written on his chest. Just to the above left is his 11-year-old son Hambly, one of my great uncles. (Young boys often worked the quarries in those days as “hollibobbers” to swab the slate with a stick wrapped in burlap to keep it wet so it could split easier, and to rework poorer quality slate into smaller pieces to gain experience.)

After church that day, we went out to eat at the Town & Country Restaurant in nearby Bath Borough, and found we were seated underneath a framed picture of that exact same image!

And now the other day, as I was catching up on some periodical reading at work, I discovered this page in the Pennsylvania Borough News magazine on little Chapman Borough, featuring yet again that same image from the day the photographer came to town!

Why, back in MY day..!

another heartwarming episode of “Life as I Remember it Ought to Have Been”

Today is another day of cancelled school while the populace waits for its hopeful interrupting snowfall. In anticipation, the streets have already been sprayed with snow-melting solution, the public works guys are counting overtime hours, and it’s a great excuse for a surprise holiday.

Remote workers: you got nothing.

But back in MY day, an accumulating snow, much less a forecast of it, was no reason for changing the day’s plans.

(Disclaimer: my bachelor’s degree is in forecast meteorology; and this is no bash against my brother and sister prognosticators!)

But as I was saying, back in MY day, things were different.

I have a vivid memory from a particular wintry day back in the early 60s, when Good Ol’ Bus 4 ambled up our unnamed road to our farm in rural Moore Township, Pennsylvania. Cold. Windy. Snow covering the yard, feeding troughs, fields, road and everything. Me, bundled in my red coat with the hood up and tied tight round my face with a threaded shoestring, wearing tall, black rubber boots, each with a half-dozen railroad-track latches, and clutching my metal Donald Duck lunchbox with matching thermos inside, I stood dutifully next to our mailbox held aloft by a red, white and blue painted plank figure of Uncle Sam.

The bus arrived just as expected, I giant-stepped into the maw of the yellow beast, and it trundled its load of captive minors toward another day’s sentence in jail (which today might be called “The Learning Facility.”)

But in just another two hundred feet or so, the bus lodged itself in a blustering snowdrift that had dammed the roadway between our barns. “Schlegel,” the bus driver, gave it the old college try to plow his way through, but today the game appeared to be already decided with the low score of Stubborn Snowdrift: 1, Good Ol’ Bus 4: 0.

I quickly and opportunistically offered to hop off and go back to the house and tell my parents. But Schlegel wouldn’t have it. With an order to his charges to “Stay on the bus!” he abandoned us to trudge back to the house. Inside, my parents allowed him to use the party-line telephone to call the school (what were they thinking!?) and let them know we were stuck in the snowbank between a pair of barns isolated in the backcountry wintry wastes.

Eventually, Schlegel returned and resumed his seat at the front of the bus, and closed the bifold door. And there we all sat in the damp cold on the hard bench seats. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then, in the distance, appeared an growing yellow smudge amid the swirling snow: Rescue!

Another bus crawled toward us from the other side of the world, turned itself around, backed up to “Our Drift,” and invitingly opened its door to the frigid wilderness.

With Schlegel stomping a path through the monstrous frozen whitecap, each of us snow-hopped across to Mean Ol’ Bus 6, retook our seats, and resumed the long, cold trek to No Excuses Consolidated Elementary School.

I couldn’t possibly tell you what I learned that day in class, but the memory of that singular adventure is a permanent fixture of what happened back in MY day!

Note: I sure wish that my dad had hustled outside with his Argus and taken a Kodachrome of that stuck school bus, but he stayed inside while all us kiddos built character. Instead, I offer these photos from another winter’s day when the Township’s bulldozer eventually got us plowed out—after we had run out of food, and my dad had skied into town to fetch some groceries.

A legacy reminder

If I wind up turning into my dad, that’s the best thing I’ll ever do.

This is my Dad’s hand, wearing his Class of 1945 Nazareth High School ring. It’s a timeworn hand, showing its large veins, wrinkled skin, and various spots. It’s the hand that held me, disciplined me, praised me, and raised me.

Dad would have turned 95 years old today. That his birthday so closely aligned with Father’s Day each year was always fitting to me because his life epitomized Fatherhood’s ideals and principles.

As I’ve gotten older, people who’ve known us both have told me I sound like him. I’ve caught myself speaking with his inflection, singing with his phrasing, even laughing like him. I’ve been known to spout his style of “Dadisms.” And if I wind up turning into my dad, that’s probably both the best tribute and the best thing I’ll ever do.

I’m on my way: the actual hand pictured is my own. And every time I look at it, I think of him.

Some observations from the top of the far side of the hill

I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict, but a condition of my spirit.

atop Steptoe Butte, Idaho, a thousand feet above the rolling hills of the Palouse area

It’s been a quick trip to the view from here.
The climb’s not been easy, nor predictable.
But here I stand amazed, a “senior.”

I’ve traded time for experience, and mistakes for learning.
I’ve gained strength, but lost endurance.
I’ve won wisdom, but lost patience.
I’ve raised hope in discouragement, and grown grit from defeat.

I’ve found that storms may cross my paths,
But don’t determine them.

I’ve seen tolerance harden to intolerance,
And pride swell to arrogance.
I’ve seen hate multiply and evil strut.
But I’ve watched kindness repulse anger,
Character rise undaunted,
And virtue stand uncowed.

I’ve lost money, but invested in family.
I’ve cried in sorrow and grieved in pain, yet laughed again.
I’ve been mistreated, ordeal-sharpened, and test-refined.
I’ve played and fought, joked and argued, lost and won.
I’ve screamed, offended; and apologized, repentant.

I’ve added girth, assembled wrinkles,
And grew perspective.
I’ve failed repeatedly,
But fewer than my tries.
I’ve wrestled with my tongue and temper,
And learned to carry more tunes than grudges.

I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict,
But a condition of my spirit.

I’ve known sicknesses, but not all.
I’ve enjoyed health, but not always.
I’ve prospered in relationships, but also in regrets.
I’ve seen a lot, been through a lot, and loved a lot.

This privileged, age-afforded vista,
From this spot on not-quite-over-the-hill,
Reveals a journey far from perfect,
Yet a scuffle worth a life invested.
It satisfies my seasoned eyes, my slowing body,
An agile mind, and a grateful heart.

© 2021

Are we building people-or just running programs?

Are we purposefully collaborating with experts from other disciplines in meeting people’s needs? And are we measuring what truly matters?

credit: Visit Philadelphia

Part of why recreation and parks doesn’t receive more of the rave respect it deserves, in my opinion, is because most people notice programs far more than the objectives behind them.

That’s not surprising. It’s always easier to focus on outward expressions than on internal improvements of the mind, body and soul.

But that’s where the common disconnect begins, I believe.

When we providers declare that recreation and parks are essential community services, what does that mean to our constituents? What is our bottom-line purpose of enabling quality leisure experiences? And are we cognizant enough of it?

• Is it just a walk in the park—or is it physical exercise, stress relief and mental rejuvenation?

• Is it merely a Paint With Me class (with wine!)—is it or stretching skills and enriching relationships?

• Is soccer practice just about scoring a trophy—or is it developing fine motor skills, building teamwork, modeling good sportsmanship, and growing cooperative social interactions among diverse teens, teams and talents?

• Is it merely an object of public art—or is it celebrating a cultural heritage, invigorating a downtown district, connecting destinations, and attracting visitors, tourists and new businesses?

• Is it just an evening activity—or is it character development, anti-ganging intervention, and preventative treatment for abusive and addictive behaviors?

Are we strategically planning with such measurable outcomes in mind, or are we satisfied that it was “fun”?

Here’s the crux: Are we building people—or just running programs? Are we purposefully collaborating with experts from other disciplines in meeting people’s needs? And are we measuring what truly matters?

Because here’s the other just-as-important part of our jobs: we must show it.

Moving beyond ROIs, attendees, and social media stats, are we documenting personal and social good in our value statements? Can we point to specific cases of cleaner resources, less waste, crises averted, problems solved, and healthier lifestyles? Are we enriching our neighbors’ lives, improving the livability of our cities, and ensuring a more equitable future?

If we are to convince a wider audience of the great worth of our indispensable services (and, in turn, influence higher funding and priorities by decision makers), we must deliver whole goods. We can’t merely insist that recreation and parks are essential, we must intentionally demonstrate it—and prove it!

My brother Brian

a victorious tragic life
1958-2016

Diagnosed with schizophrenia in his mid-twenties, my brother Brian battled depression, hallucinations, voices, anxiety, and highly threatening psychotic episodes in decades of discerning what was truly real in his reality.

As if that weren’t enough, brain cancer inserted its tentacles into his frontal lobe. He celebrated his fiftieth birthday with the first of three surgeries to counter the cancer’s terrible, inevitable advance.

On a recent Christmas evening surrounded by our family, a series of seizures convulsed his central nervous system in a hostile takeover of mind and body.

The off-kilter, razor’s edge balance of a medicated life disintegrated into a chemically-induced, frantic free-for-all for his future.

Forced to abandon his already limited lifestyle, his mobility, his interests, his hobbies, and his home, Brian’s horizons shrank to a double room in a nursing home with a single window.

His is not the archetypical story of Exalted Hero, Exemplary Leader, or Inspirational Honcho.

Yet…

Brian the mild-mannered gentleman, Brian the good-humored wit, Brian the patient and enduring soul, was ultimately the unlikely overcomer of some of life’s harshest punishments.

Though his accomplishments may be meager trifles measured against society standards; though his aims were modest and he consumed, perhaps, more than he contributed, his life, tragic as it appeared, was neither futile nor impotent.

Perhaps like many other so-called burdens to society, his purpose was intended for our collective benefit. Perhaps he was singled out to demonstrate to all of us how to bear an unfair burden. Maybe his gift of humor in the midst of a lifetime of suffering was to show us how to accept grace and how to give grace. Feasibly his sacrificial mission provided a broader perspective on our own discomforts, disappointments and disabilities. Patience through the worst of times? Decisively. Perseverance in perpetual pain? Resisting the ravages of mental and physical illness? Enduring when there simply is no other option? Emphatically yes, yes, and oh, yes!

I am sorry I came to recognize these realities late. But I rejoice in witnessing his ultimate triumph in carrying these unpleasant duties to completion at the finish line.

And to hear our Father say, “Well done, My good and faithful servant! Enter into the joy of your reward prepared in advance for you!”

Saying pieces

Agonizing childhood Christmas tradition develops character

When I was a little kid, it was a time-honored tradition in my church that all the children of the Sunday School classes would “Say Pieces” at Christmastime and Easter.

Such were the agonizing times of Kid-dom. Whether it was memorizing and reciting a scripture verse or short poem, or playing an instrument, singing a song, or even performing a bit of drama, it was a stressful time on Center Stage.

Not that it was a big one. But that didn’t matter. It was all the mandatory preparation and the grown-ups’ stern warnings about getting it right in front of everybody. It was a big deal.

… Not that I can remember any piece of any of the Pieces I ever recited…

But many of them were quite similar to the now well-known declaration of Buddy the Elf: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!” You know, when you’re a little impressionable kid, that’s really a huge pile of words to get just right.

I do, however, remember how we got to dress in plaid bathrobes to play Shepherds Abiding in the Fields. And how, one Eastertime, my cousin wore his green plastic army helmet to play a Roman soldier.

The annual production spared no one. Even the really little kids, the ones who were too little to even know what was going on, were sent out there. This cherished image is of my little sister Ann and her friend Jimmy, who paraded holding hands all the way from the staging area behind the upright piano to the platform, faced the audience with the signs hung around their little cherubic necks, then returned to wild acclaim.

Our individual and collective behaviors solicited both pride and embarrassment in our parents. For our grandparents and all the other old people, the spectacle was highly entertaining.

Afterwards, back in the classroom, we’d be rewarded with a small box of mixed chocolates and an orange from our Teacher: Presents! Next up: the real deal with Santa at home—yeah!

Despite all the trauma however, the ordeal developed character—not that we cared. But it did force us into such real out-of-the-comfort-zone growth experiences as public speaking, addressing an audience of peers and authority figures, overcoming fears and nervousness, exercising brain power, learning new information and how “practice makes perfect.”

I also remember how one little girl learned the power of a bribe. (Or shall I say “incentivized reward.”) All through the rehearsals, she refused to go on stage. But then her mother discovered just the right enticement in the promise of a special lollipop. (Did she bring some for all of us?) When it came to it, the girl delivered forthrightly, then ran directly to claim her reward from Mom hiding behind the piano.

After all these years, I’ve come to value sharing My Piece. It’s proclaimed a little differently now, and disseminated on a blog in a way no one could have imagined so long ago. Yet the sharing of our thoughts, concepts, ideas and ideals in a public forum remains a noble and cherished cause of personal expression and communal liberty.

So I now choose to share with you one of my favorite Pieces this Christmastime. It was written by the Nobel Prize winner of Literature in 1928, Sigrid Undset:

And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans—and all that lives and moves upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused—and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself.

And as Ann and Jimmy so endearingly express: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Sweet inspiration!

and exemplary lessons from an industry giant

Sweet! The Hershey Company is the largest producer of chocolate in North America and a global leader in chocolate and sugar confectionery. With revenues of more than $6.6 billion in 2012, Hershey offers much-loved products under more than 80 brand names, including such iconic brands as Hershey’s, Reese’s, Kit Kat, Twizzlers and Jolly Rancher.

But the industry giant started inauspiciously enough with a rural farm boy lacking a formal education who apprenticed to a Lancaster, Pennsylvania candy maker. Milton S. Hershey went on to become not only one of America’s wealthiest individuals, but also a successful entrepreneur whose products are known the world over, a visionary builder of the town that bears his name and a philanthropist whose open-hearted generosity continues to touch the lives of thousands.

I recently enjoyed reading a biography of this intriguing man (Hershey: Milton S. Hershey’s Extraordinary Life of Wealth, Empire, and Utopian Dreams, by Michael D’Antonio).  Here are a couple of exemplary lessons from his life for our mutual inspiration:

Persistent Improver. As a young entrepreneur, Milton Hershey failed repeatedly as a candy maker in Lancaster, Philadelphia, Denver, Chicago and New York City. After 14 years, he returned home to Lancaster and started over once again, this time improving on a recipe for caramels he learned in Colorado. His successful Lancaster Caramel Company became an early model for production line methods that Henry Ford later perfected.

Risk-Taker and Self-Believer. After selling the caramel company to a competitor for $1 million in 1900, he invested all his energies in developing a new concoction then finding favor in Europe: milk chocolate. Without even knowing how to produce a marketable milk chocolate recipe or a process for a stable and consistent chocolate bar, he bought the necessary equipment and began construction on a new factory.   

Fearless Experimenter. Even after he was very wealthy and successful, Milton remained a tinkerer, always on the lookout for new products and productivity. But he was never afraid to fail in his open-minded experiments—like his ill-fated attempts to boost vitamins in his chocolate by mixing in turnips, parsley, beets, and even celery! Nor did he complain of the costs associated with such experiments.

Foresighted Planner and Builder. As a social progressive who transformed his philosophies into realities, he constructed a company town for his workers that thrived devoid of problems associated with other utopian enterprises of the times. The picturesque settlement of 14,000 residents today takes pride in its uniquely attractive design, and the livability and lifestyle it affords. Dubbed “The Sweetest Place on Earth,” its other popular attractions include Hersheypark, Hersheypark Stadium, ZooAmerica, Hershey Gardens, as well as the Penn State Hershey Medical Center.

Visionary Provider. Unable with this wife Catherine to have children of their own, Milton founded a school for orphan boys in 1909, and later donated his entire fortune to a foundation to administer the school. Today, with assets of more than $10 billion (more than that of most universities!), the coeducational school provides a free world-class education, as well as meals, clothing, a nurturing home, health care, counseling and career training to nearly 2,000 children in social and financial need.

MasterPoint: Dream Big. Try Big. Live Big. Leave Big.

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