When I was a kid in Minnesota, watermelon was a delicacy. One of my father's buddies, Bernie, was a prosperous fruit-and-vegetables wholesaler, who operated a Warehouse in St. Paul.

Every summer, when the first watermelons rolled in, Bernie would call. Dad and I would go to Bernie's warehouse and take up our positions. We'd sit on the edge of the dock, feet dangling, and lean over, minimizing the volume of juice we were about to spill on ourselves.

Bernie would take his machete, crack our first watermolen, hand is both a big piece and sit down next to us. Then we'd bury our faces in watermelon, eating only the heart-the reddest, juiciest, firmest, most seed-free, most perfect part-and throw away the rest. Bernie was my father's idea of a rich man. I always thought it was because he was such a successful businessman. Bernie's wealth was less its substance than its application. Bernie knew how to stop working, get together with friends and eat only the heart of the watermelon.

What I learned from Bernie is that being rich is a state of mind. Some of us, no matter how much money we have, will never be free enough to eat only the heart of the watermelon. Others are rich without ever being more than a paycheck ahead.

If you don't take the time to dangle your feet over the dock and chomp into life's small pleasures, your career is probably overwhelming your life. For many years, I forgot that lesson I'd learned as a kid on the loading dock. I was too busy making all the money I could.

Well, I've relearned it. I hope I have time left to enjoy the accomplishments of others and to take pleasure in the day. That's the heart of the watermelon. I have learned again to throw the rest away. Finally, I am rich.

By Harvey Mackay from A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Hanoch McCarty & Meladee McCarty

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I write this letter to you in hopes that you will consider your approach to parenting me before I arrive. I am a joyous child. I thrive on love and respect, order and consistency. When I arrive, I will seem very small to you. Even though I don't look like an adult, please understand that I am a human being.

Even though I will not speak words to you, I will know you with my heart. I will feel all your feelings, absorb your thoughts. I will come to know you more than you may know yourself. Do not be misled by my silence. I am open, growing and learning more rapidly than you can imagine.

I will make imprints of all that I see, so please give me beauty to rest my eyes upon. I will record all that I hear, so please give me sweet music and language that tells me how much I am loved. Give me silence to rest my ears. I will absorb all that I feel, so please wrap our life in love.

I am waiting patiently to be with you. I am so happy to have the opportunity to be alive. Maybe when you see me you will remember how precious life is too!

Your joyous child.

By Donna McDermott from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk