While writing this book， I dropped in one day at the Universityof Chicago and asked the Chancellor， Robert Maynard Hutchins，how he kept from worrying. He replied： “I have always tried tofollow a bit of advice given me by the late Julius Rosenwald，President of Sears， Roebuck and Company：‘When you have alemon， make lemonade.’”
That is what a great educator does. But the fool does the exactopposite. If he finds that life has handed him a lemon， he gives upand says： “I’m beaten. It is fate. I haven’t got a chance.” Then heproceeds to rail against the world and indulge in an orgy of selfpity.
But when the wise man is handed a lemon， he says： “Whatlesson can I learn from this misfortune？ How can I improve mysituation？ How can I turn this lemon into a lemonade？”
After spending a lifetime studying people and their hiddenreserves of power， the great psychologist， Alfred Adler， declaredthat one of the wonder-filled characteristics of human beings is“their power to turn a minus into a plus.”
Here is an interesting and stimulating story of a woman Iknow who did just that. Her name is Thelma Thompson， and shelives in New York City.
“During the war，” she said， as she told me of her experience，“during the war， my husband was stationed at an Army trainingcamp near the Mojave Desert， in New Mexico. I went to livethere in order to be near him. I hated the place. I loathed it. I hadnever before been so miserable. My husband was ordered out on maneuvers in the Mojave Desert， and I was left in a tiny shackalone. The heat was unbearable—125 degrees in the shade of acactus. Not a soul to talk to but Mexicans and Indians， and theycouldn’t speak English. The wind blew incessantly， and all thefood I ate， and the very air I breathed， were filled with sand， sand，sand！
“I was so utterly wretched， so sorry for myself， that I wrote tomy parents. I told them I was giving up and coming back home.
I said I couldn’t stand it one minute longer. I would rather be injail！ My father answered my letter with just two lines-two linesthat will always sing in my memory-two lines that completelyaltered my life：
Two men looked out from prison bars，
One saw the mud， the other saw stars.
“I read those two lines over and over. I was ashamed of myself.
I made up my mind I would find out what was good in my presentsituation. I would look for the stars.
“I made friends with the natives， and their reaction amazedme. When I showed interest in their weaving and pottery， theygave me presents of their favourite pieces which they had refusedto sell to tourists. I studied the fascinating forms of the cactusand the yuccas and the Joshua trees. I learned about prairie dogs，watched for the desert sunsets， and hunted for seashells that hadbeen left there millions of years ago when the sands of the deserthad been an ocean floor.
“What brought about this astonishing change in me？ TheMojave Desert hadn’t changed. The Indians hadn’t changed.
But I had. I had changed my attitude of mind. And by doingso， I transformed a wretched experience into the most excitingadventure of my life. I was stimulated and excited by this newworld that I had discovered. I was so excited I wrote a book about it—a novel that was published under the title Bright Ramparts....
I had looked out of my self-created prison and found the stars.”
Thelma Thompson， you discovered an old truth that theGreeks taught five hundred years before Christ was born： “Thebest things are the most difficult.”
Harry Emerson Fosdick repeated it again in the twentiethcentury： “Happiness is not mostly pleasure； it is mostly victory.”
Yes， the victory that comes from a sense of achievement， oftriumph， of turning our lemons into lemonades.
I once visited a happy farmer down in Florida who turnedeven a poison lemon into lemonade. When he first got this farm，he was discouraged. The land was so wretched he could neithergrow fruit nor raise pigs. Nothing thrived there but scrub oaksand rattlesnakes. Then he got his idea. He would turn his liabilityinto an asset： he would make the most of these rattlesnakes. Toeveryone’s amazement， he started canning rattlesnake meat.
When I stopped to visit him a few years ago， I found that touristswere pouring in to see his rattlesnake farm at the rate of twentythousand a year. His business was thriving. I saw poison from thefangs of his rattlers being shipped to laboratories to make antivenomtoxin； I saw rattlesnake skins being sold at fancy pricesto make women’s shoes and handbags. I saw canned rattlesnakemeat being shipped to customers all over the world. I boughta picture postcard of the place and mailed it at the local postoffice of the village， which had been re-christened “Rattlesnake，Florida”， in honour of a man who had turned a poison lemon intoa sweet lemonade.
As I have travelled up and down and back and forth acrossAmerica time after time， it has been my privilege to meet dozensof men and women who have demonstrated “their power to turna minus into a plus”.
The late William Bolitho， author of Twelve Against the Gods，put it like this： “The most important thing in life is not to capitaliseon your gains. Any fool can do that. The really important thing is toprofit from your losses. That requires intelligence； and it makes thedifference between a man of sense and a fool.”
Bolitho uttered those words after he had lost a leg in a railwayaccident. But I know a man who lost both legs and turned hisminus into a plus. His name is Ben Fortson. I met him in a hotelelevator in Atlanta， Georgia. As I stepped into the elevator， Inoticed this cheerful-looking man， who had both legs missing，sitting in a wheel-chair in a corner of the elevator. When theelevator stopped at his floor， he asked me pleasantly if I would stepto one corner， so he could manage his chair better. “So sorry，” hesaid， “to inconvenience you”—and a deep， heart-warming smilelighted his face as he said it.
