He spent last 40 years of his life in retirement, using his fortune to create foundations that had an unparallelled effect on medicine, education, and scientific research.

John D. Rockefeller 

John D. Rockefeller, richest American to have ever lived. At the time of his death in 1937, he was worth $340billion in today's dollars - he was also the first American acquire a net worth over $1billion. In 1870, he founded the Standard Oil Company, which dominated American Oil production and his monopoly was eventually broken up by the U.S. government into smaller companies including Amoco, Chevron Conoco, and ExxonMobil. 

Two years after building an oil refinery in 1863 with his business partner Maurice B. Clark, Mr Rockefeller bought him out for $72,500 and established the firm of Rockefeller & Andrews, which he said 'determined' his career.

He then spent the last 40 years of his life in retirement, using his fortune to create foundations that had an unparallelled effect on medicine, education, and scientific research.

In 1884, Rockefeller provided major funding for a college in Atlanta for African-American women, which became Spelman College, also giving $80million to the University of Chicago, turning the small Baptist college into a world-class institution by 1900.

It was after Standard Oil moved its headquarters to Manhattan at 26 Broadway that Mr Rockefeller became a central figure in the New York City's community. 

In 1901, he founded the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, which was instrumental in the eradication of hookworm and yellow fever, and later changed its name to Rockefeller University in 1965.

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“He spreads the love like he spreads the butter.”

Nicaragua’s city dump is called La Chureca. It’s the final destination for most of the city’s garbage, including mountains of fecal matter, medical waste and battery acid. Hundreds of people live inside the dump, where families construct their homes out of the trash. It was here, in the middle of the wasteland, that a Jamaican prophetess named Mrs. Ruby had come to live among the poorest of the poor, praying over them and speaking to them on God’s behalf. It's very sad to see people suffering in this generation. 

Let me share story about James my friend whom I met 2009 June. 

James walked into the kitchen and hopped on top of the counter, not sure how his mom was going to react to what he was about to tell her. He sat there quietly watching her cook at the oven. James had been restless lately. She knew something was up.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Mom,” James said, “I feel like I want to be homeless.”

James remembers her response was simple, yet profoundly beautiful.

“She’s got these beautiful big, round eyes,” he said, “and she started tearing up. She nodded her head and just looked at me, and said, ‘OK.’”

James’ dad said it would be a neat adventure. His boss thought he was a fool, but he quit his job in September of 2009 and put some of his belongings up for sale on Craigslist, the rest up for sale in the driveway. 

James stayed at home to gather support. He started sleeping on the streets in Tallahassee, handing out socks and clothing to those in need, but eventually he ran out of items to give and money to buy more with.

A graphic design major in college, he made a t-shirt design and had some shirts printed that simply read, “Clothe Naked Kids as Yourself.” He began selling them, and pouring all the profits back into helping the homeless.

By the end of 2010, Clothe Naked Kids As Yourself had become an official non-profit organization.

All of the profit goes to benefit either The Kenyan Knitting Project, which pays the salaries of Kenyan women who knit uniforms for Kenyan orphans, or The Brigade Project, which provides a way for community members to request and then hand deliver basic goods to the homeless in their area.

Today, James lives in a parsonage in a little surf town in Melbourne, Florida, where some 70-plus kids at First United Methodist Church call him their youth pastor. Others call him a saint. Some call him crazy. But the homeless who James met along his journey will always call him by the nick name they gave him on the streets: Mr. Butters — because as they say, “he spreads the love like he spreads the butter.”

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TODAY AM IN DEEP PAIN WITH A BROKEN HEART,

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER

WE MIGHT BE POOR, YOUR SHOES MIGHT BE BROKEN, BUT REMEMBER OUR MIND IS A PALACE AND OUR HEART IS RICH,

-My MUM said.

MY MUM PASSED AWAY PEACEFULLY ON 1ST SEPT.2021, 8:45 PM. At the age of 89years.1932-2021

REST IN PEACE AMA, YOU WILL BE IN MY HEART 4EVER.

-I don’t know why but certain feeling of joy enters my life the minute I reminisce about my childhood.

My parents helped me to be independent and strong, allowed me to experience life on my own terms, they had let me walk for 5km towards school (Trashi Gang Jr. School) and back home (My village: Pam,Kheri). I studied as dayscholer.

My childhood was painful in some way. The emotion that gripped me was too deep and intense that in the end it left me raw, exposed and yes in pain that it had led me become a better person and let me believe more in my self.

My MUM Dorji Lhazom & Daddy Lt. Chorten Tshering.

I was the youngest child in the family (generally believed that youngest child are most pampered and always had more attention from their parents and family members yet in my case it was a complete different story). My brothers and sisters were already in government jobs and my eldest brother Kuenga was serving as Lopen (religious teacher) at Trashigang Dzong leading a comfortable life but they had their own life and were helpless.

My part time work during the cold winter was to accompany my Lt. Dad visiting in and around our village performing rituals ceremony as and when the villagers invited us. The little money I earned, I used to spend in buying my school stuffs such as uniform, stationary and so on. I vividly remember that I wore the same uniform for almost 4 years, I didn’t even have school shoes nevertheless I was lucky enough to have a pair of slippers.

The unforgettable day in my life would be the day I received an empty envelope from Thimphu (letter send by my loving brother and sister, I understand they might have forgotten to put the letter inside due to some unavoidable circumstances) That was the first and last letter i had ever received.

No matter how much suffering endured, we never want to let go and forget those memories. The worst part of holding the memories was not the pain but it is the loneliness, memories needs to be expressed. 

  "ALL THAT  I AM, OR EVER HOPE TO BE, I OWE TO MY ANGEL MOTHER."

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