businessinsider:

To save you time and money, we’ve distilled 25 of the greatest business books down to their primary insights.

If you want to bone up on your business theory, here are the central lessons — and a great way to begin a reading list. 

(via forbes)

stories-yet-to-be-written:

“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

Rest in peace Maya Angelou

(via monaeltahawy)

parislemon:

Satya Nadella:

A great idea shouldn’t have to wait for you to get back to a particular device. An impromptu call with a customer shouldn’t be delayed because you don’t have the right data on hand. Life moves too fast to put limits on where and how you work. Just as the best camera is the one you have with you, sometimes the right device is the one closest at hand. Simply put, our vision is to deliver the best cloud-connected experience on every device.

A few buzzwords aside, this is a great post. Clear and fairly concise. It seems like he gets it.

Happy birthday, Vincent van Gogh (March 30, 1853—July 29, 1890)

"I hope to depart in no other way than looking back with love and wistfulness and thinking, oh paintings that I would have made."

(Source: post-impressionisms, via huevosenserio)

thereconstructionists:

During the Civil War, women weren’t allowed to vote or have bank accounts, were still subject to Victorian ideals of homemaking and motherhood as the sole purpose of female existence, and had little personal or political agency. And yet hundreds of them served in the war undocumented, dressed as men. Singular among them was the surgeon, feminist, and abolitionist Mary Edwards Walker (November 26, 1832 – February 21, 1919), who is to this day the only woman awarded the Medal of Honor, the highest accolade of the American military, and one of only eight civilians to have ever received it.
Walker, who first became interested in medicine through her father’s collection of anatomical books, paid her way through medical college by teaching at the local elementary school and received her medical doctor degree as the only woman in her class. Shortly before she turned twenty-four, she married her college classmate Albert Miller while wearing pants and a man’s coat. The two opened a medical practice together, but general distrust in female physicians’ competence caused the practice to peter out. When the marriage failed due to Miller’s infidelity four years later, Walker opened a practice on her own and it thrived, both as a business and as a social statement. One of her newspaper ads read:

Those … who prefer the skill of a female physician … have now an excellent opportunity to make their choice.

When the Civil War began, Walker volunteered as a civilian in the Union Army, but was only allowed to practice as a nurse despite her training — the American army had no female surgeons. A suffragette and actively invested in women’s rights, she eventually made her way to working as an unpaid field surgeon on the front lines and even applied to the Secret Service in 1862, offering to spy on the enemy. She was rejected. A year later, however, she was appointed as “Contract Acting Assistant Surgeon (civilian)” in the Army of the Cumberland and thus became the first-ever female surgeon employed by the American military.
In the spring of 1864, she was captured by the Confederate army and spent four months as a prisoner of war in Virginia, until she was released in a prisoner exchange.
Once the war ended, Walker became a writer, lecturer, and vocal proponent of women’s rights and dress reform. At a time when women wore dresses, Walker walked in pants and proudly declared:

I wear this style of dress from the highest, the purest, and the noblest principle!

In 1865, Walker was recommended for the Medal of Honor by two army generals and President Andrew Johnson signed a bill to present her the medal, citing her “valuable service to the government,” her devotion “with much patriotic zeal to the sick and wounded soldiers, both in the field and hospitals, to the detriment of her own health,” and her having endured “hardships as a prisoner of war.”
In 1917, however — two years before her death — a review board checked the eligibility of medal recipients and revoked 911 of those awarded, including Walker’s, on the ground that she wasn’t actually a member of the military. Walker, eighty-five at the time, refused to give her medal back. While the army never asked the unfortunate 911 non-honorees — who included Buffalo Bill — to actually return their medals, their names were erased from the Army Medal of Honor Roll.
Six decades later, and fifty-eight years after Walker’s death, president Jimmy Carter reinstated her medal, citing her “distinguished gallantry, self-sacrifice, patriotism, dedication and unflinching loyalty to her country, despite the apparent discrimination because of her sex.” In 1982, the U.S. Postal Service commemorated with a stamp — but depicted her in a lavish dress, with curls, even though she took great pride in wearing only men’s clothes and rejecting the era’s dress norms for women. Whether the error is an example of institutional laziness, historical ignorance, or a posthumous form of oppression remains a matter of interpretation.
Learn more: Mary Walker Wears the Pants | Wikipedia | Gay History Project

thereconstructionists:

During the Civil War, women weren’t allowed to vote or have bank accounts, were still subject to Victorian ideals of homemaking and motherhood as the sole purpose of female existence, and had little personal or political agency. And yet hundreds of them served in the war undocumented, dressed as men. Singular among them was the surgeon, feminist, and abolitionist Mary Edwards Walker (November 26, 1832 – February 21, 1919), who is to this day the only woman awarded the Medal of Honor, the highest accolade of the American military, and one of only eight civilians to have ever received it.

Walker, who first became interested in medicine through her father’s collection of anatomical books, paid her way through medical college by teaching at the local elementary school and received her medical doctor degree as the only woman in her class. Shortly before she turned twenty-four, she married her college classmate Albert Miller while wearing pants and a man’s coat. The two opened a medical practice together, but general distrust in female physicians’ competence caused the practice to peter out. When the marriage failed due to Miller’s infidelity four years later, Walker opened a practice on her own and it thrived, both as a business and as a social statement. One of her newspaper ads read:

Those … who prefer the skill of a female physician … have now an excellent opportunity to make their choice.

When the Civil War began, Walker volunteered as a civilian in the Union Army, but was only allowed to practice as a nurse despite her training — the American army had no female surgeons. A suffragette and actively invested in women’s rights, she eventually made her way to working as an unpaid field surgeon on the front lines and even applied to the Secret Service in 1862, offering to spy on the enemy. She was rejected. A year later, however, she was appointed as “Contract Acting Assistant Surgeon (civilian)” in the Army of the Cumberland and thus became the first-ever female surgeon employed by the American military.

In the spring of 1864, she was captured by the Confederate army and spent four months as a prisoner of war in Virginia, until she was released in a prisoner exchange.

Once the war ended, Walker became a writer, lecturer, and vocal proponent of women’s rights and dress reform. At a time when women wore dresses, Walker walked in pants and proudly declared:

I wear this style of dress from the highest, the purest, and the noblest principle!

In 1865, Walker was recommended for the Medal of Honor by two army generals and President Andrew Johnson signed a bill to present her the medal, citing her “valuable service to the government,” her devotion “with much patriotic zeal to the sick and wounded soldiers, both in the field and hospitals, to the detriment of her own health,” and her having endured “hardships as a prisoner of war.”

In 1917, however — two years before her death — a review board checked the eligibility of medal recipients and revoked 911 of those awarded, including Walker’s, on the ground that she wasn’t actually a member of the military. Walker, eighty-five at the time, refused to give her medal back. While the army never asked the unfortunate 911 non-honorees — who included Buffalo Bill — to actually return their medals, their names were erased from the Army Medal of Honor Roll.

Six decades later, and fifty-eight years after Walker’s death, president Jimmy Carter reinstated her medal, citing her “distinguished gallantry, self-sacrifice, patriotism, dedication and unflinching loyalty to her country, despite the apparent discrimination because of her sex.” In 1982, the U.S. Postal Service commemorated with a stamp — but depicted her in a lavish dress, with curls, even though she took great pride in wearing only men’s clothes and rejecting the era’s dress norms for women. Whether the error is an example of institutional laziness, historical ignorance, or a posthumous form of oppression remains a matter of interpretation.

thereconstructionists:

By the time she was forty, British social reformer, mathematician, and statistician Florence Nightingale (May 12, 1820 – August 13, 1910) was the second most influential woman in England, after only Queen Victoria.
Nightingale pioneered modern nursing during her time serving as a volunteer nurse in the Crimean War, where she became known as “The Lady with the Lamp” for her nightly visits with the wounded in the wards. In 1854, John MacDonald, commissioner of the Times Crimea Fund, described these midnight vigils memorably:

Wherever there is disease in its most dangerous form and the hand of the despoiler distressingly nigh, there is that incomparable woman sure to be seen. Her benignant presence is an influence for good comfort, even amid the struggles of expiring nature. She is a “ministering angel” without any exaggeration in these hospitals, and as her slender form glides quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow’s face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. When all the medical officers have retired for the night and silence and darkness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds.

Nightingale’s relentless advocacy brought government attention to the horrific conditions of the wounded. With her staff of 38 women volunteers she had trained as nurses, she worked to dramatically reduce death rates in the clinics. Once the war ended, she returned to Britain and applied her wartime insights to revolutionizing the sanitary design of hospitals. Public recognition of her work during the war led to the establishment of the Nightingale Fund, dedicated to training nurses. In 1860, she used the £45,000 from the fund to found the Nightingale Training School at St. Thomas’s Hospital, which became the first official nurses training program in the world. By 1865, Nightingale’s first class of trained nurses had entered the workhouse system in England and Scotland — a revolutionary development in healthcare. By the 1880s, a number of her nurses had become matrons of leading hospitals across the United Kingdom.
Straddling both the practical and the theoretical, Nightingale also authored numerous books and papers on nursing and healthcare reform, including her seminal 1860 book Notes on Nursing, in addition to more subtle meditations on feminism and women’s emancipation, like her essay "Cassandra," critiquing culture’s tendency to align feminine ideals with idleness and near-helplessness.
With a strong inclination for mathematics and statistics, she also pioneered the use of graphical representations at a time when the pie chart, so tediously ubiquitous today, was a curious novelty that hardly any scientists and journalists used for presenting statistical information.
Underpinning all of Nightingale’s endeavors was her tireless hunger for progress and the betterment of life’s challenging givens. In an 1884 letter to her sister Parthenope, she encapsulated her the impetus at the core of her spirit:

What is life? It cannot be merely a gaining of experience — it is freedom, voluntary force, free-will, & therefore must be a hard fought battle — in order to make a choice, there must be evil & good to choose from.

Nightingale declined several marriage overs and never wed nor had a public relationship. While some biographers have painted her as a sexless do-gooder who remained chaste her entire life due to a religious calling to her work, it is quite possible that she was a queer woman who either never identified as such under the cultural and religious constraints of her era, or only did so in private — she frequently referred to herself in the third-person masculine, using such phrases as “a man of action” and “a man of business” called to “a man’s work.” She once wrote of her cousin, Marianne Nicholson:

I have never loved but one person with passion in my life, and that was her.

In 1837, she met Mary “Clarkey” Clarke — an Englishwoman twenty-seven years her senior, who went on to become the single most important confidante in Nightingale’s life and with whom she exchanged hundreds of letters over the decades that followed.
In 1883, Queen Victoria awarded Nightingale the Royal Red Cross. In 1907, at age eighty-seven, Nightingale became the first woman to receive the Order of Merit. In 1912, the International Red Cross instituted the Florence Nightingale Medal, bestowed upon nurses or nursing aides for outstanding service. Since 1965, International Nurses Day has been celebrated around the world on Nightingale’s birthday.
Learn more: Florence Nightingale Museum | Wikipedia | Ever Yours, Florence Nightingale: Selected Letters

thereconstructionists:

By the time she was forty, British social reformer, mathematician, and statistician Florence Nightingale (May 12, 1820 – August 13, 1910) was the second most influential woman in England, after only Queen Victoria.

Nightingale pioneered modern nursing during her time serving as a volunteer nurse in the Crimean War, where she became known as “The Lady with the Lamp” for her nightly visits with the wounded in the wards. In 1854, John MacDonald, commissioner of the Times Crimea Fund, described these midnight vigils memorably:

Wherever there is disease in its most dangerous form and the hand of the despoiler distressingly nigh, there is that incomparable woman sure to be seen. Her benignant presence is an influence for good comfort, even amid the struggles of expiring nature. She is a “ministering angel” without any exaggeration in these hospitals, and as her slender form glides quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow’s face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. When all the medical officers have retired for the night and silence and darkness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds.

Nightingale’s relentless advocacy brought government attention to the horrific conditions of the wounded. With her staff of 38 women volunteers she had trained as nurses, she worked to dramatically reduce death rates in the clinics. Once the war ended, she returned to Britain and applied her wartime insights to revolutionizing the sanitary design of hospitals. Public recognition of her work during the war led to the establishment of the Nightingale Fund, dedicated to training nurses. In 1860, she used the £45,000 from the fund to found the Nightingale Training School at St. Thomas’s Hospital, which became the first official nurses training program in the world. By 1865, Nightingale’s first class of trained nurses had entered the workhouse system in England and Scotland — a revolutionary development in healthcare. By the 1880s, a number of her nurses had become matrons of leading hospitals across the United Kingdom.

Straddling both the practical and the theoretical, Nightingale also authored numerous books and papers on nursing and healthcare reform, including her seminal 1860 book Notes on Nursing, in addition to more subtle meditations on feminism and women’s emancipation, like her essay "Cassandra," critiquing culture’s tendency to align feminine ideals with idleness and near-helplessness.

With a strong inclination for mathematics and statistics, she also pioneered the use of graphical representations at a time when the pie chart, so tediously ubiquitous today, was a curious novelty that hardly any scientists and journalists used for presenting statistical information.

Underpinning all of Nightingale’s endeavors was her tireless hunger for progress and the betterment of life’s challenging givens. In an 1884 letter to her sister Parthenope, she encapsulated her the impetus at the core of her spirit:

What is life? It cannot be merely a gaining of experience — it is freedom, voluntary force, free-will, & therefore must be a hard fought battle — in order to make a choice, there must be evil & good to choose from.

Nightingale declined several marriage overs and never wed nor had a public relationship. While some biographers have painted her as a sexless do-gooder who remained chaste her entire life due to a religious calling to her work, it is quite possible that she was a queer woman who either never identified as such under the cultural and religious constraints of her era, or only did so in private — she frequently referred to herself in the third-person masculine, using such phrases as “a man of action” and “a man of business” called to “a man’s work.” She once wrote of her cousin, Marianne Nicholson:

I have never loved but one person with passion in my life, and that was her.

In 1837, she met Mary “Clarkey” Clarke — an Englishwoman twenty-seven years her senior, who went on to become the single most important confidante in Nightingale’s life and with whom she exchanged hundreds of letters over the decades that followed.

In 1883, Queen Victoria awarded Nightingale the Royal Red Cross. In 1907, at age eighty-seven, Nightingale became the first woman to receive the Order of Merit. In 1912, the International Red Cross instituted the Florence Nightingale Medal, bestowed upon nurses or nursing aides for outstanding service. Since 1965, International Nurses Day has been celebrated around the world on Nightingale’s birthday.

pinkmans-jesse:

100 FILMS IN 2013→ 12/100 Films: Happy Accidents (2000)

Sam Deed: Your heart is like a clock measuring time and one’s emotional state determines the flow of time. It speeds it up or slows it down.Ruby: So, time is a personal thing?Sam Deed: Yes. Sure.Ruby: Time is an emotional thing. That’s what you’re saying?Ruby: Yeah, yeah, sure. Don’t bad things always seem to last longer than good ones? But good things seem to just fly by… like the best times in life.

pinkmans-jesse:

100 FILMS IN 2013
→ 12/100 Films: Happy Accidents (2000)

Sam Deed: Your heart is like a clock measuring time and one’s emotional state determines the flow of time. It speeds it up or slows it down.
Ruby: So, time is a personal thing?
Sam Deed: Yes. Sure.
Ruby: Time is an emotional thing. That’s what you’re saying?
Ruby: Yeah, yeah, sure. Don’t bad things always seem to last longer than good ones? But good things seem to just fly by… like the best times in life.

(Source: misslaurenbacall)

thereconstructionists:

When Mortimer Herbert Morris-Goodall gave his young daughter a stuffed lifelike toy chimp named Jubilee, his wife’s friends were horrified by the plaything and admonished that it would frighten little Jane out of her wits. Instead, it became the spark of fascination to light the inner fire that would make Jane Goodall (b. April 3, 1934) one of history’s greatest primatologists and the world’s foremost expert on chimpanzees.
At nineteen, after her mother told her that secretaries could get jobs anywhere in the world, Goodall decided to pursue secretarial training in London. But she remained enchanted by animals — she continued to read countless books about them between her poetry and philosophy coursework, and roamed the Natural History Museum on lunchbreaks. Her cross-disciplinary curiosity also drove her to take a course in journalism, and she found enormous delight in the poetry of Dylan Thomas and T.S. Eliot. But while her life in London was infinitely stimulating, it was the furthest thing from lavish or even comfortable — she was so desperately short on money, in fact, that in her memoir Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey she describes her usual dinners as consisting of “a quarter of a boiled cabbage (the cheapest vegetable) and an apple, or a Penguin biscuit.”
After graduating, she followed her passion for animals and Africa — the place she wanted to go the most — to a friend’s farm in the Kenyan highlands in 1957. She was mesmerized and determined to stay. Her uncle arranged for a secretarial job with the manager at the Kenyan branch of a British company, but Goodall longed to work with animals. A friend suggested she should try to meet the legendary Kenya-based archeologist and paleontologist Louis Leakey at the Coryndon Museum of Natural History, so she reached out to him. They met at his “large, untidy office, strewn with piles of paper, fossil bones and teeth, stone tools, and all sorts of other things,” and he took her around the museum, asking her all kinds of questions about the various exhibits. Goodall, who had read voraciously about Africa, was able to answer most, and Leaky was impressed that someone without a scientific degree would know so much. So he offered her a job as his personal secretary. Leakey soon sent Goodall to Cambridge to obtain formal scientific education, and she became only the eight person ever to be allowed to pursue a Ph.D. without a previous Bachelor’s degree.
And so began the professional journey of a remarkable pioneer. Goodall spent nearly half a century studying the social and family interactions of chimpanzees in Tanzania’s Gombe Stream National Park. The insights from her longitudinal observations have served as fundamental pillars of understanding not only primate behavior, but also animal consciousness at large. She founded the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977, dedicated to her relentless advocacy of international wildlife and environmental conservation, and has authored numerous books on primate behavior, animal welfare, and what it means to inhabit our inextricable connectedness to our closest fellow beings.
To support Goodall’s work and its far-reaching legacy, consider contributing a donation to the Jane Goodall Institute.
Learn more: Reason for Hope | Wikipedia

thereconstructionists:

When Mortimer Herbert Morris-Goodall gave his young daughter a stuffed lifelike toy chimp named Jubilee, his wife’s friends were horrified by the plaything and admonished that it would frighten little Jane out of her wits. Instead, it became the spark of fascination to light the inner fire that would make Jane Goodall (b. April 3, 1934) one of history’s greatest primatologists and the world’s foremost expert on chimpanzees.

At nineteen, after her mother told her that secretaries could get jobs anywhere in the world, Goodall decided to pursue secretarial training in London. But she remained enchanted by animals — she continued to read countless books about them between her poetry and philosophy coursework, and roamed the Natural History Museum on lunchbreaks. Her cross-disciplinary curiosity also drove her to take a course in journalism, and she found enormous delight in the poetry of Dylan Thomas and T.S. Eliot. But while her life in London was infinitely stimulating, it was the furthest thing from lavish or even comfortable — she was so desperately short on money, in fact, that in her memoir Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey she describes her usual dinners as consisting of “a quarter of a boiled cabbage (the cheapest vegetable) and an apple, or a Penguin biscuit.”

After graduating, she followed her passion for animals and Africa — the place she wanted to go the most — to a friend’s farm in the Kenyan highlands in 1957. She was mesmerized and determined to stay. Her uncle arranged for a secretarial job with the manager at the Kenyan branch of a British company, but Goodall longed to work with animals. A friend suggested she should try to meet the legendary Kenya-based archeologist and paleontologist Louis Leakey at the Coryndon Museum of Natural History, so she reached out to him. They met at his “large, untidy office, strewn with piles of paper, fossil bones and teeth, stone tools, and all sorts of other things,” and he took her around the museum, asking her all kinds of questions about the various exhibits. Goodall, who had read voraciously about Africa, was able to answer most, and Leaky was impressed that someone without a scientific degree would know so much. So he offered her a job as his personal secretary. Leakey soon sent Goodall to Cambridge to obtain formal scientific education, and she became only the eight person ever to be allowed to pursue a Ph.D. without a previous Bachelor’s degree.

And so began the professional journey of a remarkable pioneer. Goodall spent nearly half a century studying the social and family interactions of chimpanzees in Tanzania’s Gombe Stream National Park. The insights from her longitudinal observations have served as fundamental pillars of understanding not only primate behavior, but also animal consciousness at large. She founded the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977, dedicated to her relentless advocacy of international wildlife and environmental conservation, and has authored numerous books on primate behavior, animal welfare, and what it means to inhabit our inextricable connectedness to our closest fellow beings.

To support Goodall’s work and its far-reaching legacy, consider contributing a donation to the Jane Goodall Institute.

thereconstructionists:

When Amelia Earhart (b. July 24, 1897) disappeared over the Pacific on July 2, 1937, she left behind a legacy shrouded in legend, glory, and modern-day mythmaking. Celebrated as a pioneering aviator and the first woman to cross the Atlantic on a solo flight, she was also a smart businesswoman, a generous caretaker, and a relentless champion of education. She applied her remarkable tenacity to everything she took on, demanding a great deal of herself and never failing to live up to it, in public or in private.
Though she grew up in a troubled home, financially strained and with an alcoholic father, that tenacity would come to define Amelia from a young age. Firmly set on getting an education, she saved up money and eventually sent herself to the Ogontz School, a junior college in Pennsylvania, in the fall of 1916. She was twenty-one, significantly older than her classmates, but she compensated for the missed years by taking on an exceptional amount and array of academic work. In her correspondence with her mother, young Earhart outlines her scholarly voraciousness, which would later translate into her drive for aviation:

I am taking Modern Drama Literature, German and German Literature outside. French three and five in which latter we are reading Eugénie Grandet. And Senior arithmetic and logic if I can. Besides reading a good deal and art, Bible, etc. etc. I am elected to write the senior song, but you know the more one does the more one can do. […] Despite my unusual activity I am very well organized to do more the more I do.

But during her Christmas vacation in 1917, Earhart was moved by the wounded soldiers returning from WWI and decided to volunteer at a military hospital, performing arduous nursing duties after receiving training as a nurse’s aid from the Red Cross. She found a profound calling in the life of service and, having received her mother’s permission to leave college without graduating, she returned to the hospital in 1918 to nurse the war wounded full-time. In the fall of 1919, she enrolled in Columbia University as a premed student.
But Amelia soon found her faith in the skies. In 1920, she fell in love with flying and the rest, as they say, is history. Eight years later, in June of 1928, made her first transatlantic flight as a passenger, and four years after that, she flew across the Atlantic as a solo pilot.
One of the most astonishing, little-known facts about Earhart’s life — a testament to her tenacious spirit and capacity for self-transcendence — is that she accomplished all of her feats despite debilitating chronic sinus pain, for which she was hospitalized multiple times and which was only exacerbated by the open-air cockpits that exposed her to harsh winds, high pressure, and extreme cold. Still, like fellow reconstructionist Frida Kahlo who made art history despite severe chronic pain, frequent hospitalizations, and more than thirty operations, Earhart achieved what she did without complaint or cry for pity, driven by optimism and dedication to her calling.
Despite her passion for the skies,however, Earhart always kept education, especially the education of women, a primary focus of her relentless dedication, lecturing in universities around the world and even inspiring a course in “household engineering” at Purdue University, where 1,000 of the 6,000 students were women. She also counseled young women on their careers. At Purdue, she advised graduating girls to try a certain job but not be afraid to make a change if they found something better, adding:

And if you should find that you are the first woman to feel an urge in that direction, what does it matter? Feel it and act on it just the same. It may turn out to be fun. And to me fun is the indispensable part of work.

(Fittingly, she titled her memoir The Fun Of It: Random Records of My Own Flying and of Women in Aviation.)
Her views on marriage, too, were incredibly ahead of her time and would be considered progressive even today — yet another expression of Earhart’s singular gift for navigating new cultural territory with courage and conviction.
Learn more: Brain Pickings | Wikipedia | The Fun Of It

thereconstructionists:

When Amelia Earhart (b. July 24, 1897) disappeared over the Pacific on July 2, 1937, she left behind a legacy shrouded in legend, glory, and modern-day mythmaking. Celebrated as a pioneering aviator and the first woman to cross the Atlantic on a solo flight, she was also a smart businesswoman, a generous caretaker, and a relentless champion of education. She applied her remarkable tenacity to everything she took on, demanding a great deal of herself and never failing to live up to it, in public or in private.

Though she grew up in a troubled home, financially strained and with an alcoholic father, that tenacity would come to define Amelia from a young age. Firmly set on getting an education, she saved up money and eventually sent herself to the Ogontz School, a junior college in Pennsylvania, in the fall of 1916. She was twenty-one, significantly older than her classmates, but she compensated for the missed years by taking on an exceptional amount and array of academic work. In her correspondence with her mother, young Earhart outlines her scholarly voraciousness, which would later translate into her drive for aviation:

I am taking Modern Drama Literature, German and German Literature outside. French three and five in which latter we are reading Eugénie Grandet. And Senior arithmetic and logic if I can. Besides reading a good deal and art, Bible, etc. etc. I am elected to write the senior song, but you know the more one does the more one can do. […] Despite my unusual activity I am very well organized to do more the more I do.

But during her Christmas vacation in 1917, Earhart was moved by the wounded soldiers returning from WWI and decided to volunteer at a military hospital, performing arduous nursing duties after receiving training as a nurse’s aid from the Red Cross. She found a profound calling in the life of service and, having received her mother’s permission to leave college without graduating, she returned to the hospital in 1918 to nurse the war wounded full-time. In the fall of 1919, she enrolled in Columbia University as a premed student.

But Amelia soon found her faith in the skies. In 1920, she fell in love with flying and the rest, as they say, is history. Eight years later, in June of 1928, made her first transatlantic flight as a passenger, and four years after that, she flew across the Atlantic as a solo pilot.

One of the most astonishing, little-known facts about Earhart’s life — a testament to her tenacious spirit and capacity for self-transcendence — is that she accomplished all of her feats despite debilitating chronic sinus pain, for which she was hospitalized multiple times and which was only exacerbated by the open-air cockpits that exposed her to harsh winds, high pressure, and extreme cold. Still, like fellow reconstructionist Frida Kahlo who made art history despite severe chronic pain, frequent hospitalizations, and more than thirty operations, Earhart achieved what she did without complaint or cry for pity, driven by optimism and dedication to her calling.

Despite her passion for the skies,however, Earhart always kept education, especially the education of women, a primary focus of her relentless dedication, lecturing in universities around the world and even inspiring a course in “household engineering” at Purdue University, where 1,000 of the 6,000 students were women. She also counseled young women on their careers. At Purdue, she advised graduating girls to try a certain job but not be afraid to make a change if they found something better, adding:

And if you should find that you are the first woman to feel an urge in that direction, what does it matter? Feel it and act on it just the same. It may turn out to be fun. And to me fun is the indispensable part of work.

(Fittingly, she titled her memoir The Fun Of It: Random Records of My Own Flying and of Women in Aviation.)

Her views on marriage, too, were incredibly ahead of her time and would be considered progressive even today — yet another expression of Earhart’s singular gift for navigating new cultural territory with courage and conviction.