very Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go t

First of all, let me point out that to my knowledge, Mr. Crabtree never knew the first thing about network or internet marketing. However, our lessons in life come from everywhere, and although it took me about 40 years to get the message, I get it now, Mr. Crabtree!

Back when I was a teenager, about the time I wanted to get a dinosaur license, I decided I wanted a guitar. It was cool to have a guitar. Girls liked guys who played guitars. Anybody with a guitar was somebody!

One fantastic Christmas, my parents, figuring that at least I didn't want a drum set, gave me a beautiful, auditorium acoustic guitar. Ever have one of those desires that once it was fulfilled you found out that the pursuit was more pleasure than the prize?

Well, that's the way it was with my new guitar. I had never given much thought to the fact that you actually had to LEARN how to play it! What a Concept! I thought the skill and knowledge came with the guitar, I guess. In those days I had a healthy desire to avoid hard work, so the guitar went in a corner and was hardly ever touched.

Of course, I had told my friends that I had a guitar, so a lot of them dropped by to see it. THEY didn't have guitars! The bad part was that they would ask me to play it for them, and, of course, I couldn't. Everybody said it was neat, and they liked the sound the strings made when I pulled the pick over the part below the bridge, but I couldn't play it, so pretty soon all my friends lost interest in me and my guitar.

That's where Mr. Crabtree comes in. He was a guitar instructor my father learned about. He had actually played at the Grand Ol' Opry.

So it came about, that every Saturday, Mr. Crabtree would pull up in front of our house and come inside for an hour. He would bring some music for me, take me over it, and leave it with me to practice until he came back next Saturday. The music was a pretty good series of progressively more challenging pieces, and he did show me a lot, but there was one minor problem.

Every Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go th

tmas, my parents, figuring that at least I didn't want a drum set, gave me a beautiful, auditorium acoustic guitar. Ever have one of those desires that once it was fulfilled you found out that the pursuit was more pleasure than the prize?

Well, that's the way it was with my new guitar. I had never given much thought to the fact that you actually had to LEARN how to play it! What a Concept! I thought the skill and knowledge came with the guitar, I guess. In those days I had a healthy desire to avoid hard work, so the guitar went in a corner and was hardly ever touched.

Of course, I had told my friends that I had a guitar, so a lot of them dropped by to see it. THEY didn't have guitars! The bad part was that they would ask me to play it for them, and, of course, I couldn't. Everybody said it was neat, and they liked the sound the strings made when I pulled the pick over the part below the bridge, but I couldn't play it, so pretty soon all my friends lost interest in me and my guitar.

That's where Mr. Crabtree comes in. He was a guitar instructor my father learned about. He had actually played at the Grand Ol' Opry.

So it came about, that every Saturday, Mr. Crabtree would pull up in front of our house and come inside for an hour. He would bring some music for me, take me over it, and leave it with me to practice until he came back next Saturday. The music was a pretty good series of progressively more challenging pieces, and he did show me a lot, but there was one minor problem.

Every Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go t

hard work, so the guitar went in a corner and was hardly ever touched.

Of course, I had told my friends that I had a guitar, so a lot of them dropped by to see it. THEY didn't have guitars! The bad part was that they would ask me to play it for them, and, of course, I couldn't. Everybody said it was neat, and they liked the sound the strings made when I pulled the pick over the part below the bridge, but I couldn't play it, so pretty soon all my friends lost interest in me and my guitar.

That's where Mr. Crabtree comes in. He was a guitar instructor my father learned about. He had actually played at the Grand Ol' Opry.

So it came about, that every Saturday, Mr. Crabtree would pull up in front of our house and come inside for an hour. He would bring some music for me, take me over it, and leave it with me to practice until he came back next Saturday. The music was a pretty good series of progressively more challenging pieces, and he did show me a lot, but there was one minor problem.

Every Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go t

where Mr. Crabtree comes in. He was a guitar instructor my father learned about. He had actually played at the Grand Ol' Opry.

So it came about, that every Saturday, Mr. Crabtree would pull up in front of our house and come inside for an hour. He would bring some music for me, take me over it, and leave it with me to practice until he came back next Saturday. The music was a pretty good series of progressively more challenging pieces, and he did show me a lot, but there was one minor problem.

Every Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go t

very Saturday when he left, I put the guitar in the corner of my room and there it stood until the following Saturday, when Mr. Crabtree would come in the house, sit down in front of me in the dining room and ask me to play the piece he had left the week before. Of course, I couldn't. Finally, Mr. Crabtree gave up and told my father that he couldn't keep charging him money for lessons if I wouldn't do the work.

Now, when Mr. Crabtree first started leaving the music lessons with me, I would try to go through them, but what I was playing didn't sound like what I heard other people playing. I made mistakes. Sometimes I made the same mistake several times in a row. A lot of times I would practice, but the next day it was almost as if I hadn't practiced at all. So, I got discouraged and gave up. It didn't take long. A couple of lessons, and I quit, even though Mr. Crabtree and my father hung in a little longer.

Years later, I got involved in a couple of network marketing programs before computers made it big. I made a few bucks, but I wasn't making what other people were making, and I made mistakes...sometimes embarassing mistakes, and sometimes I just couldn't figure out what to do next. So, I got discouraged and gave up.

One day, I met a guy named Ed. Ordinary fellow. Actually, he reminded me a little of Mr. Crabtree. Ed became my friend, and I joined him in his network marketing program, but I gave up after a few months. Ed went on to become a millionaire. About the same time, I met Phil, a friend's husband, and joined him in a network marketing endeavor. A few months later I gave up and quit, but Phil also went on to become a millionaire. Actually, through my associations with those two, I got to watch a lot of people get rich.

Finally, one day it dawned on me! If I had kept on practicing my guitar, I would have eventually become a decent guitarist. In fact, I might have become good enough for Mr. Crabtree to have taught me some really neat stuff! He might even have introduced me to some people in the music business. I could have become rich and famous...if I had practiced instead of giving up so easily.

As I looked back at what Phil and Ed had done to build their million dollar incomes, I saw only one thing that stood out. They never quit trying, and one day, I guess you could say they had practiced enough, and they got the rewards they were looking for.

Eventually, when I decided on another network marketing adventure, which involved internet marketing, I chose not to qu