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I have one of those families that really encourages you to get out and try things. 


As a young kid, growing up in the country, I took that to the limit and along the way I got concussed 8 times.  These days when a new doctor sees my medical record, they look at me seriously and say, “What happened?!”, maybe thinking that I must have had some terrible upbringing. 


Instead, I tell them stories of adventure and daring do, of physical feats that no kid should try, and add that my parents never wanted me to do any of those things – ever.

Kids in our neighbourhood learned that it is okay to test and fail.  Our ‘misses’ were just a series of attempts, and we believed we were going to get better and better.  When we tried something for the first time, we knew it was probably not going to work but that was part of the fun.  We would just keep trying until it did or move onto the next adventure.

As I grew up, obviously, that kind of stuff stopped, but the ability to just get on and try things and not worry about what might happen next just kind of grew and this is because I had parents that were always supportive, as long as I was trying my hardest.  Report cards, sports games or the after-school job, the question would always be asked “Could you have tried any harder?”.  Provided the answer was ‘no’, everything was okay.


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