Miracles Happen: The Life and Timeless Principles of the Founder of Mary Kay Inc.

There are four kinds of people in this world:

• those who make things happen
• those who watch things happen
• those who wonder what happened
• those who don't know that anything happened!

I knew from a very early age that I wanted to be first on that list. And in the years since, I have learned that people who do succeed are set apart by their personalities, objectives, and abilities. Specifically this means that they have

• enthusiasm (with purpose)
• discipline
• willingness (to work, to serve, and to learn)
• determination
• appreciation of others

I said that I learned this lesson; I did hot say that it came easily or dropped into my lap. When I was seven years old, my daddy came home from the sanatorium; and although three years' treatment had arrested his tuberculosis, he was not completely cured. During the rest of my childhood, he remained an invalid and in need of a great deal of tender loving care.

For all those years, my mother was the sole support of our family. She had been trained as a nurse, but eventually found work as the manager of a restaurant in Houston. The job didn't pay as well as such jobs do today, and the salary was undoubtedly lower because she was a woman. Mother worked fourteen hours a day, leaving home each morning at five (before I awoke) and returning at nine at night (often after I was asleep). My older brother and sister were grown and gone, so it became my responsibility to take care of my daddy.

It never occurred to me that things should be any different. I would come home from school and clean the house. Then I would do my homework. But I accepted this, and what's more, I enjoyed it. Even though some of my duties were supposed to be too difficult for a child, nobody ever told me that. As a result, I just did them.

Still, preparing meals was often a great challenge. My mother was a marvelous cook, but the job became mine when she couldn't be home in time to make our family dinner. At the tender age of seven, I could hardly be considered a master chef. (Remember, there were no such things as frozen dinners or fast-food carry-outs.) If Daddy wanted chili or chicken for dinner and I didn't know how to cook it, I would call my mother. During those days, I rarely had the opportunity to learn anything from her in person -- she just couldn't be there to teach me. But how often I have said since then, "Thank God for the telephone!" It became my lifeline and my primary contact with my mother. Whenever I called her, she found a way to make time for me and to patiently explain what I had to do.

"Mother? Hi! Daddy wants potato soup tonight."

"Potato soup? Okay, honey. First get out the big pot, the one you used yesterday. Then you take two potatoes..."

She'd go through every step, one at a time, trying to think of everything I would need to know. I hadn't been raised to be a complainer, but I'm sure she knew that my job sometimes seemed overwhelming. Because when she was through with her instructions, she always added, "Honey, you can do it."

Our family situation meant that I had to do many things that most children weren't expected to do. For instance, if I needed new clothing, I had to go by myself to downtown Houston. I took these Saturday trips alone, because my best friend was not allowed to travel on the streetcar without an adult. After all, we were just seven years old.

Don't forget -- these were the days when a little girl's dress was sixty-nine cents and eggs were nineteen cents a dozen. Mother would give me perhaps $1.50, and I would go pick out a dress or blouse. I loved doing this -- it was the highlight of my week. The only problem I had was convincing the clerks that I really was allowed to make such decisions. Sometimes it was enough to show them the money, but often they would demand, "Where's your mother?" Then I would explain our circumstances, give them the phone number for Mother's restaurant and tell them, "You can call her. She'll tell you it's okay."

After shopping, I got to go to Kress's for a pimento-cheese sandwich on toast and a Coke. Then I'd go to a movie. I lived for these afternoons "on the town." I think the meal was usually twenty cents and the show was about a dime, so for thirty cents I had a wow of an afternoon.

When I first began these excursions, I was a little anxious about catching the right streetcar and finding my way around. Then I remembered my mother saying, "You can do it, honey." I must have heard those words a thousand times, and she always said them with total conviction. Now I realize that she must have been very anxious about the responsibilities I had to assume. But you would never have known it to hear her. As far as I was concerned, my mother knew I could do it. Her words became the theme of my childhood. They have stayed with me all my life: "You can do it."

The confidence my mother instilled has served me throughout my adult life. Without it, Mary Kay Cosmetics might have fizzled before it even began. It was 1963. After twenty-five years as a professional saleswoman, with my children grown, I just decided that retirement did not suit me. And so I had developed a strategy and philosophy for beginning my own "dream company." I had recruited several salespeople and invested my life savings into the chance of a lifetime ...