Sam’s venture into book publishing is not an accident. With a wealth of information and materials to share, he comes across not just as an outstanding subject but a first rate storyteller both in words and pictures.

Not surprisingly, his first book, “Sam Butcher: An Artist for Everyone” was a brilliant idea that sold all available copies to rave reviews. Launched at the Precious Moments 2009 Family Reunion at the Chapel (Carthage) this June, the book had an initial run of only 3,000 copies.

The book is, in the author’s own words, an illustrated story of his life, showcasing his contemporary body of work apart from the famous teardrop-eyed children known as Precious Moments, on which the book takes off. Murals and paintings on the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage come after a foreword by editor Larrene Hagaman and a short introduction by Jon Butcher, the artist’s eldest son. A coterie of experiences follow suit in what appears a pastiche of stories that take place at the Chapel.

With this book, Sam Butcher brings a wealth of experience to the fore, having unplugged all the proverbial stops, showing his versatility as an artist. The majority of this body of work came to the fore when he was virtually a recluse, painting day and night, not just inspired but with unbridled enthusiasm that resulted in over 200 paintings in less than 2 months. These paintings show the many different styles of Sam Butcher, with shades of chiaroscuro or a plethora of colors, unmistakably unique on one hand and on the other, influenced by the masters. Sam Butcher is equally adept in abstract and non-objective art as well as in the stunning clarity of his impressionist works, altogether showing an undeniable stroke of genius.

Sam’s second book renders in prose his thoughts on bringing up children, aptly entitled: “Children’s Book of Golden Rules”. Illustrated in his famed and inimitable Precious Moments style, the handy book explains in Sam’s clear prose tenets and precepts about how children should conduct themselves.

Clear thoughts such as “I will never snub somebody, Because I know, it isn’t fair, To turn around, just walk away, And act as if he isn’t there” is telling it like it is. Topics covered include jealousy, competition, procrastination, rudeness, and gossip, among a host of others. It is not all negative attitudes that are being addressed. The book also promotes a better understanding of God’s love, the importance of family, the importance of being well brought up, and the value of friendship. It is not that serious though since there is even a tip of how to properly chew gum.

The very private, hold-me-by-the-hand narrative called “My Journey through the Chapel” is the third book published in this series, and the most intimate. It is a poignant ‘how I did it’ account of Sam’s most challenging project to date: the Chapel in Carthage.

Sam revisits paintings and murals at the Chapel and recounts personal and vicarious experiences. His very private recollections and musings are eloquently expressed with the honesty and conviction of someone who has dedicated his life, his works, to the Glory of God.

Go with Sam Butcher, artist extraordinaire, on this very personal and very intimate journey and get to know Sam’s thoughts and afterthoughts on the Chapel in Carthage, his most challenging project.

Please visit www.samueljbutcher.com for more information regarding these books and for other books that will be published soon.

The first thing one invariably notices about Sam Butcher is his smile. It is arresting with a somewhat precocious, child-like quality, with absolutely no guile in it. Open, straight, true-to-form. More than just projecting a jovial mien, his smile radiates an inner joy, an abiding faith, and compassion. It is an enchanting smile, an enchantment from which there is apparently no escape.

He speaks with a gentle voice that exudes fortitude, breaks into spontaneous laughter during light banters, and always greets people with a warm smile even while he walks with a purposive gait as if he is always in a hurry to get somewhere, fast.

And he has, indeed, gone a long, long way.

This selfless gentleman refused to be subjugated by poverty and rose from the ranks of the underprivileged by praying with moving feet. His determination to succeed was fueled by his unpleasant experiences with the privations and scarcity of material comforts. But the adversities and harsh conditions of life never touched his steadfast faith.

In his salad days, his pastor asked their congregation to bring something for the poor children as a Christmas gift. He decided to give his teddy bear, a treasure for one so young and as a consequence, something that he had difficulty parting with. But tenacity gave way the munificence of this kind spirit. Later, he came to realize that the pastor’s instruction was actually addressed to the adult members of their congregation. Much to his chagrin, he thought about retrieving his teddy bear from the boxes at the church foyer, but by the time he had an opportunity to do so, the boxes have been carted away.

This was one of the many subtle turning points in the life of Sam Butcher.

Samuel John Butcher was born in Jackson, Michigan in the early morning of 01 January 1939 as the third child in a brood of five. Sam’s birth, shortly after the New Year’s Eve festivities, was an overture, an intimation of his eventual fame. But Sam is always quick and consistent in acknowledging his humble roots.

The family moved shortly after his birth to Redding, California, where the young Sam’s nascent to fame began by drawing and sketching under the dining room table, mostly on scraps of paper. While his family and friends recognized his talent, they were unable to support him with materials because they were so poor. But not only was Sam talented, he was also on the ball and found rolls of paper to draw on in a factory dump near his home.

At seven years young, his mother asked him to paint something for an aunt in Florida who was getting married. He painted a guardian angel because this was her favorite. The painting is now at the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage.

Even in those salad days, Sam already painted scenes from the Bible. He eventually pursued formal art training after high school when he won a scholarship to the College of Arts & Crafts in Berkeley.

Sam Butcher’s career as an artist began with a stint as a “chalk board minister,” dexterously using illustrations to teach young children about God. Using his talent for the greater glory of God, his work was, in a decade’s time, seen by millions of viewers on “Tree Top House” which was produced by the International Children Evangelism Fellowship in Grand Rapids, Michigan where he was employed as an artist.

Sam’s professional career really took off when, in 1974, he joined forces with a friend and started the Jonathan & David inspirational greeting card business, featuring the distinctively unique teardrop-eyed children, which he has been drawing for kith and kin. He called these illustrations “Precious Moments” because they projected loving, caring and sharing in everyday situations. Five years later, Enesco Corporation transformed the artwork into porcelain bisque figurines, which became a phenomenon in the collectibles industry.

The first figure produced was of a little boy standing by the child in the manger, aptly called The Little Shepherd Boy. The message Sam wanted to convey in this artwork was “Adesti Fidelis” (Come Let Us Adore Him). Fact is, Sam has always believed that he was The Little Shepherd Boy.

While filming a promotional material that documented his work, Sam Butcher drew a piece entitled “I can’t spell success without U”. At the end of the clip, he turned to the cameraman and asked, “Is there something wrong with this artwork?” “Did I spell success correctly?” And then he went to his bible instead of a dictionary, turned the pages, got to Joshua 1:8 and confirmed that his spelling of success had one C missing. Again, he turned to the cameraman and said: “This piece is called ‘I can’t spell success without U’ and as for myself, I can’t spell success, period!”

The self-deprecating humor notwithstanding, Sam Butcher is one of the world’s most successful artist-businessman, with his creation, Precious Moments, acknowledged as one of the most successful licensed brands in the $192 billion worldwide licensing industry and the world’s most successful brand in the $21 billion (U.S.) giftwares/collectibles industry.

With a powerful emotional connection with its consumers, Precious Moments is considered one of the most attractive licensing properties in the industry. The essence of the brand is “loving, caring and sharing”.

Precious Moments sold over US$7 billion since its inception, and has dominated the gift and collectibles industry since then. Not surprisingly, Precious Moments has been consistently rated the #1 brand in collectibles over the past fifteen years, enjoying an 80% recognition rate among women over the age of 18 years who have given a gift in the last year.

In 1988, Sam was presented with a Special Recognition Award from the National Association of Limited Edition Dealers (NALED). The same organization named Sam “Artist of the Year” in 1992 and 1996.

In 1989, Sam began what he calls his life’s work—the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage, Missouri. The Chapel features a Precious Moments version of Michelangelo’s “Creation” and lives up to the core purpose of Precious Moments, which is “to touch the hearts of people in a personal way by spreading goodness throughout the world”.

Sam considers the chapel as the most challenging work he has ever done. Inspired by the works of renaissance masters, he painted with darker colors, providing more depth and creating much more drama to his body of work. He wanted to bring the viewer into the picture—to feel the emotions, the drama, the loneliness, the things that took place in the lives of these people in the bible, which is the general theme of the artworks found at the chapel.

This monumental turning point in his life is considered as the most inspirational and significant work of his life.

In December 2001, Samuel J. Butcher spearheaded the organization of SAMPAGUITA GARDENS, a boutique resort in New Washington, Aklan that began commercial operations in June 2003. This resort is a major investment and is recognized as a landmark in the Travel & Trade Industry. Today, Sampaguita Gardens provides employment for hundreds of Aklanons as well as training opportunities for students from nearby provinces.

As a boutique resort, Sampaguita Gardens’ world class amenities, facilities and services has scored many firsts: the first all-year round Christmas store in the Philippines; the first Butterfly Farm in Western Visayas; the first fine dining restaurant in mainland Aklan, Oriental Flavors Restaurant, that offers a fusion of Thai & Chinese cuisine; and the first to have a world-class Spa.

Sampaguita Gardens would not be complete without its own Precious Moments Meditation Chapel, which opened in October 2006. It is smaller than the one in Carthage, but just like the previous one, it has likewise been meticulously hand painted by Sam.

The resort is an attraction in itself, and true to its Vision, is focused on a dynamic and motivated organization that continues to grow and prosper as it provides world-class amenities and services to an ever-growing clientele.

The Mission of Sampaguita Gardens is to operate a world-class resort that values customer satisfaction at every encounter, providing a seamless experience from reservation to departure, and, cognizant of its role as a good corporate citizen, Sampaguita Gardens is committed to its employees as it moves forward to achieve superior return on shareholders investment.

Sampaguita Gardens won as Western Visayas’ Best Resort (Class AA) during the Regional Tourism Excellence Award in 2007 and 2006 from the Department of Tourism Region VI; also as Most Outstanding Garden Resort from the Global Awards for Marketing Excellence 2005 (Symbol of Agora Excellence) by the Philippine Marketing Practitioners Association, Inc., BusinessAsia Magazine, the Asia-Pacific Global Awards for Marketing Excellence, Inc., and the Agora Institute for Marketing Excellence; and Most Outstanding Resort (Visayas Awards) during the 2005 Philippine Marketing Excellence Awards, an honor bestowed by the Philippine Marketing Excellence Awards Institute, the Asian Institute of Marketing and Entrepreneurship and the Marketing Insights Magazine.

The Samuel J. Butcher Foundation has quietly helped innumerable individuals, families and organizations here in the Province of Aklan and in other parts of the country as well. The Foundation has regular but low profile projects and activities in keeping with Mr. Butcher’s selfless character and personal wish that the left hand would not know what the right hand giveth.

Today, Samuel J. Butcher is the titular head of Seven Companies operating under the Samuel J. Butcher Family of Companies as he continues to touch and make a difference in the lives of thousands of people.

In recognition of his innumerable contributions especially towards tourism development in the province of Aklan, Samuel J. Butcher has been named, in February 2007, as an Adopted Son of Aklan by virtue of a Resolution from the Provincial Legislature.

*This article was based on notes taken from the videos entitled “Sam Shares” and “Sharing Christmas” produced by Enesco as well as materials from Precious Moments, Inc. (PMI) and Precious Moments Company, Inc. (PMC).

**Postscript. When this article was presented to Sam Butcher, he returned it to me with this inscription on the margin: Dear Glenn: This is wonderful. I will share this with our people in the States. It is far superior to their work. Thank you. SamB

We suffered a direct hit. Thousands of families were instantly rendered homeless.

In the wake of the storm came mud floods. Cars were floating around like oceangoing vessels. People’s homes were emptied of its unprotected contents by the flood, with furniture and appliances floating like so many flotsam and jetsam. People were on rooftops, or being carried away by floodwaters as they were perched on the roof of their houses. For the very first time, floodwaters reached the height of Kalibo Bridge.

Devastation was the order of the day. Thousands died in its aftermath.

We were forced down on our knees not just in supplication but also in abject surrender to the horrible, wretched experience.

Emotionally drained, physically exhausted and financially crippled, the double whammy of the storm and flood sunk us in catatonia.

Indeed, June 21, 2008 will be remembered in infamy through the centuries with stories that leave a bad taste in the mouth. Bad memories made worse by the apathy displayed by people who were supposed to come to our rescue and protect us from further harm.

Personally, I never saw an elected government official or the head of any agency of government, check on the condition of people in the area where I lived. For one whole damned week. Even an elected official who lived just a couple of houses away did not show signs of being at least a concerned neighbor.

Prices went through the roof as sellers took advantage of the situation. While businesspeople were literally making a killing, the local leadership of the Department of Trade and Industry failed to make their presence felt while in the interim, people were forced to pay through their teeth for items supposedly under price control. It took the DTI a couple of days to surface even if the floodwaters were gone on the 22nd.

Political stalwarts came to visit and lo and behold, local officials were very visible, unable to resist the photo ops, which worked both ways. Media was finally aware of the situation, thanks to bloggers who helped spread awareness. If not for their efforts, people would not have known what actually transpired.

Tuesday, the 24th of June was the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, Kalibo’s Patron Saint. In the early morning, church bells pealed and fireworks were launched but no one was in a celebratory mood. It was Kalibo’s saddest Town Fiesta ever.

Thankfully, a huge contingent from the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority arrived to help clean up and rehabilitate Aklan. Lo and behold, a day prior to the President’s arrival, NFA vehicles with “Rice for Sale” signs suddenly became very visible, with someone’s mighty magic wand orchestrating the show. But for whose benefit, really? As soon as the President left, the NFA vehicles were also gone.

The thing that really angered people was relief materials that were turned over and “overturned”. And that is putting it mildly. Not surprisingly, a slew of Non-Government Organizations came in and personally handled the distribution of their aid to make sure that people who needed it got it. And that is a fact!

These people have such an unsavory reputation that will stick to them like glue because the experience has been seared in our memories. For them I personally feel revulsion, loathing, repugnance, outrage, detestation, abhorrence, hatred … and spite.

It has been a year. However, what has our government done to help prevent what happened form happening again? To this day, whenever it rains for at least an hour, some of Kalibo’s major thoroughfares would be flooded already.

ConAss is apparently more important. Oh well, let me reiterate: for them I feel revulsion, loathing, repugnance, outrage, detestation, abhorrence, hatred … and spite.

Soon it will be May Day Eve.

People who work in the call center industry invariably move around a lot, seeking better opportunities, comparing pay and benefits and subsequently, moving on with such nonchalance … with a wider network, better pay, more handsome benefits, and chances at promotion, among a host of other considerations.

In the case of 5 members of my former team, they incorporated and made a lateral move in the call center industry by going into recruitment — almost cutting our team membership in half – which invariably proved problematic, and they eventually split up again, going their separate ways, unable to preserve the shreds of friendship.

There used to be 14 of us in Team Jake … “M” was the first to leave, a bundle of joy gone haywire in the name of love … followed shortly by “J” who had to leave purportedly because he could not live with the stress of working nights, his health suffering in the process.

Team Jake was composed of people who volunteered to work during Christmas and New Year, fresh out of training and literally wet behind the ears. Some of us were already industry veterans, or at least, experienced. Most of us were neophytes, called virgins, green apples in an industry that pays a premium for experience.

Each one of us had a story to tell … almost every single one of us a survivor, having gone through some harrowing experiences. Each one was trying to make a better life for him/herself.

The stories we shared could be winning pieces in Maala-ala Mo Kaya … the harsh realities of life and its tragedies: a tragedy of fate, a tragedy of character, or in some cases, a tragedy of both fate and character. Not quite a fair shake.

Five of us were gay. And that alone should have shaken Jake, our Team Manager … but with fortitude, he handled us like wet bars of soap … not too gingerly lest we fall, not too hard lest we slip out. And then most of the women were acting like gay blades themselves, especially one of the girls who has declared that she was brought up by a gay nanny!

The comic relief amidst the pressures of work invariably resulted in peals of laughter. We coped in many different ways … someone was consistently banging her mouse on the desk, another would, in fits of rage, raise her keyboard and slam it down, another would slam his fist, another an open palm. One would press the mute button and swear at the customer, another would press the same button and deliver a hilarious one-liner to insult the intelligence or lack thereof of the customer at the other end of the line. There were foot stampers, there were those who clucked their tongues, there were those who glared at the twin-monitors.

We were a crazy bunch.

I used to start my week while others ended theirs … on a Friday night. Just as everyone else in the so-called normal world began to unwind in bars and cafes all over town, my minions and I would start to “shift” gears and glide into our work-a-night world, like zombies who go bump in the dead of night.

My shift started at 8pm and ended at 5am. Not surprisingly, I rarely got to see the sun. That was nice. I did not have to spend so much on suntan lotions with SPF factors whose efficacy I never get to figure out anyway.

My weekends were, naturally screwed up. Instead of a Sat-Sun weekend, my weekends were Wednesdays and Thursday. Some of my “normal” friends argued that I was so far down the slide because I no longer knew which days were actual weekends on the calendar. Well, I respected their opinion. After all, the debate as to whether the week begins with Monday or Sunday is still ongoing.

Debates. Debates. Debates. Some people think that call center agents are like robots. Oh well, as far as I know, robots are unable to think for themselves and are definitely less opinionated than we individually and collectively were. After all, there are call center agents and then there are call center agents.

Some of us sold gewgaws, promotional items and even toilet seats! There are those who promoted credit cards, calling people on the phone and telling them they have been pre-approved for a gold card (imagine the reaction of someone who does not even have a job … bwahahahaha). Others did frontline services for companies that are so straightlaced, one would sometimes feel as though they were wearing straitjackets affixed to a swivel chair.

I have voiced for the deaf, the hard of hearing and the speech impaired. I loved doing that. Imagine typing verbatim (minimum typing speed: 60 wpm at 90% accuracy) while keeping your client informed of everything that is happening during the call, including tone of voice and background noise such as toilets flushing or someone farting. Unfortunately, I failed to certify, and I had to leave, albeit with a heavy heart. Best thing about it was that there were no Average Handling Time (AHTs) to worry about.

I used to work my butt off to have low AHTs while serving under the safest and most popular online shopping company in the world. Unfortunately, I had a magnet for thurdercats (geriatrics) who use Jurassic equipment (dial-ups).

Oh, those daze, those daze were so exciting.

My world was a complete turn-around. I woke up at around 5pm and greeted my housemates Good Morning. I’d leave the house at around six o’ clock while “normal” people are on their way home. As they arrive in their homes and start to unwind, I wind up and get to the office in about 45 minutes. I would usually be found at my workstation half an hour before the start of my shift at 8 pm.

Lunchbreak was around midnight, and yes, we really called it lunch. After almost 3 months, my stomach was used to it. But for a while, it was confusing, especially because I usually don’t eat after 6pm.

Shift ended at five o’ clock in the morning and woe is me if I got a long call minutes before shift actually ended. If and when that happened, I just grinned and bore it and tried my darndest best not to take it out on my client, who did not even have the faintest idea what time it was in my part of the world, or where I actually was located.

The world was still bathed in neon lights as I leave the building. Sunrise was about to part the veil of darkness. The world was still at rest and only the early birds flap their wings in the morning wind. There is no queue on the MRT.

I arrive home at around 6am and the queue to the communal bathroom is about to start. I take a shower and hit the sack, wearing “blinders” because, like Dracula, I was afraid of the sun.

There was this one day that I really had this very strong urge to stay and laze in bed and catch up on lost sleep. I should have followed my instinct. Darn, the building elevators were out of service and a co-worker and I had to take the stairs to our workplace — 25 floors up in the sky — cursing all the way up!

Not surprisingly, there were only a handful of us who were ready to go to work. And those of us who were there shared a common feeling and developed a sort of special bond. Survivors. And true professionals, said a Work Force rep. But of course.

If Jake, our Team Manager, weren’t a good chap, I would have taken a hike, damn the desire to maintain a perfect attendance and earn another balloon at the end of the month.

I figured out that it was the price we had to pay for having a wonderful view of Eastwood and the nearby communities. That was the price we had to pay for the sheer enjoyment and thrill of looking at Antipolo, cock-sure that there were people out there who were viewing Metro Manila from that not-too-distant balcony embracing a ravine.

Over half an hour since the final ascent, I was still trying to catch my breath. Darn you Jake, had you been a jerk, I would really have loved to stay in bed … alone but not necessarily lonely.

The usual night in a call center agent’s life would usually be having clients who slide online ranting and raving and sometimes even swearing as they barge straight into your eardrums. IRATE CLIENTS we call them. Irate clients who cannot be de-escalated that easily.

The thing is to listen. And listen well. To apply the LEAN technique (Listen, Empathize, Asses and Negotiate). It is important never to get goaded into an argument … never to get even, even if the chance to do so is just a blink away … never to step over the ledge in the precipice of anger … never to let go of professionalism in the midst of being assaulted in the most unprofessional tone.

It is important to let them vent. And vent they will. And whenever they do, you will soon discover the kind of personality, upbringing, education and level of erudition of the person on the other end of the line. Cuss words come dime a dozen, while pleading for attention is not really the order of the day.

Sometimes, it was apparently easier to just declare that you don’t give a flying fuck! Just sometimes.

The thing is, a call center agent has been trained to listen and probe and empathize and offer solutions. And as soon as the other person is done venting (tired is more like it), it is your turn to speak. Speak low. Speak in conciliatory tones. But don’t forget to raise the ante — call control is more than just taking control of the situation, it should also give you pleasure — pleasure in proving, in no uncertain terms, how stupid irate clients have been to have made such blunders and have the gall to come up blaming customer service reps in the process.

And but of course, subtlety is the order of the day.

I would usually get home at around half past six and then hit the sack after a quick shower … arrived in snoreland shortly thereafter, wet hair notwithstanding (yikes, if my Grandmother were alive, she’d be stark raving mad).

Gliding into a day-off is a sensation in itself, and you would earnestly wish to catch up on lost sleep, until your eyes automatically open at six, brain still half asleep, body clock taking over automatically –- on your day-off.

We had two days off. Worked five days a week. Sometimes, we felt that the two days off just weren’t enough. And sometimes, we too, ranted and raved, wishing we had more days off … more time to laze around in bed, more time to do leisure activities, more time to sneak around, perhaps.

I really didn’t want a long vacation. I didn’t wish I had more time in my hands to do things I have always wanted to do. The last time I wished I had a long vacation and more time to do things I wanted to do, it was granted. I was bored to my wit’s end. And I was jobless for a while. And I chew my nails instead of doing more productive things.

Who says fate does not have a sense of humor?

EDSA is more than just traffic jams and political history gone haywire. It can also make you feel as if it were April Fools Day or Niño’s Inocentes all of a sudden.

This happened one strange night. I was to pull in for an overnight OT. I came to work at around 6pm and watched the boob tube as it documented the surprising twists and turns in the country’s precarious political situation: Gloria Arrovo declared a State of Emergency!

At half past seven, there were only the guards, the janitorial crew and a handful of agents … very unusual. At a quarter to eight o’ clock in the evening, no workers were streaming in. I felt as if I were caught in a time warp, afraid that I may have been had … and had I not seen my work schedule on Aspect, I would have felt I were an April Fool’s Day victim or someone could have played a Niño’s Inocentes joke on me.

Unaware of the monstrous traffic jams in the major thoroughfares of Metro Manila, I logged on and began taking calls, alone save for a couple of others who lived nearby or at least decided to come early.

Other agents started streaming in at around half past nine, at least an hour and a half late. Ah, the joys of working in a call center.