Franklin Taggart's Blog

Whenever a new year rolls around many are inclined to declare resolutions, or set intentions, or set measurable goals for the coming year. I declare that I will lose 10 pounds a month. I intend to make a six figure income. My goal is to be number one on the New York Times Bestseller List. While having a number in mind might be useful in terms of ease of measuring, I think there is another useful way to resolve that gets overlooked; qualitative goals. A qualitative goal is not concerned with the number of things you accomplish, or how much weight you lose, or how much money you make, but it can be fuel for all three quantities. A qualitative goal reveals a few things: What really matters to you. The kind of world you want to live in. The depth and breadth of your imagination. The difference you want to make. Speaking only for myself, I have a difficult time being motivated by how much money I'll make, or how many people I'll reach. I'm more motivated by a feelin

 I've had a couple of good days of rest after a particularly full and challenging year. I'm excited to have a few days to recover and clean out the corners to get ready for 2017. Before I do that, I'd like to send gratitude to so many people. While it wasn't the easiest year, I was surrounded by love and goodness in a multitude of forms. I'm grateful first to Monica and B, and our little dog, too. For those who don't know, my dad spent the last year living with us in between independent and assisted living facilities. I didn't know the extent to which he would need to be taken care of, and our little family rose to the occasion. We made sure he was clean and fed, and Vinnie would have little visits with him. We had another family member for a few months in the midst of that. The identity isn't important, but it's only to say that we had our hands full.  Thankfully that chapter is closed. Despite the added stress and overwhelm, we managed to stay

This is a long one. Interrupt your attention deficit and read the whole thing. Thanks. In December 2003, my wife, Monica and I welcomed a baby girl, Sarah Grace. The months leading up to her birth were filled with excitement and anticipation. Both Monica and I were at an age where we thought we’d never be parents, so we were both surprised by the possibility, and we couldn’t wait for our baby to arrive. The day she was born we were greeted with a reality we weren’t prepared for. Sarah was born with a chromosomal disorder called Trisomy 18, an extra chromosome on the 18th strand of DNA in every cell of her body that would make it more likely than not that she would die. Despite the challenges, she fought for every moment of life that she had. The days in the hospital are kind of a distant blur now, but there were hours in the NICU spent with my hand through a hole in the incubator giving her as much human contact as the machine would allow. Signing a Do Not Resuscitate order