Here's a brief taste of what Steve went through as related in his first book, "The 10 Greatest Gifts I Give My Children."

"Yuppie used to be my middle name. I came from a tiny Nebraska farm to the big city and made it big myself. I ran a thriving talent agency. I hobnobbed with the rich and famous. I was surrounded by beautiful people. I had a beautiful home and all the toys of a golden boy's success. I was young and healthy and happy. Or so I thought.

I also had a lovely wife and two adorable daughters. At least I thought I did. But I was so consumed by being a big success that my family ranked somewhere around ninth on my list of ten important things to do each day. Since it was usually impossible to get past item five, my family eventually became the other people who happened to live at the same place where I went to sleep each night.

When my children actually intruded into my life, I used my old tried-and-true methods of parenting, which usually consisted of, "Sit down, shut up, listen to me, do this and do that, because I said so." I though my job as a parent was simply to "fix" things; to solve my kids' problems or the problems they were creating, to keep them off my back and under control. It was a constant battle of wits to make sure that they knew I was "King Dad" - and that King Dad always wins.

It didn't take long to learn the consequences of a life with these priorities. My wife and kids left me. I never thought that could happen to me, the golden boy. I got so stressed and depressed I started making bad business decisions. Soon I had to declare both personal and corporate bankruptcy.

I had lost everything.

A friend took pity and offered to let me sleep in the basement of a house he owned. Night after night in that dark, windowless, filthy basement I wondered why everything had gone so wrong. Day after day I dragged myself off the mattress, overwhelmed with helplessness and hopelessness. The days ticked by in a series of meaningless hours spent sitting on a nearby park bench or mining dumpsters for empty cans to sell until I could reach unconsciousness again that night.

My self-esteem plummeted. I realized my self-worth had only come from externals like having my name on that company door or being surrounded by beautiful people. I had never learned to validate myself internally; I could only define myself by what my parents or my staff or the press thought of me. I couldn't go anywhere because I felt like a complete failure, a nobody. For months I could not even introduce myself using my last name.

I began to contemplate suicide..."

Finally, one cold, snowy Christmas eve, a stranger approached Steve on "his" park bench. Steve seemed a filthy, smelly, disgusting bum with 75 cents to his name, and no home, no family, no life, on what should have been the happiest of holidays. Here's a bit of what Steve remembers about that night:

"The lake reflected feeble streetlights in the snow. The stark empty branches of the trees started to collect lacy strips of clinging snow. The bare rose bushes in the flower garden seemed to hunker down under a potential winter blanket of snow. And a man, maybe 150 yards away, apparently frozen in time and space.

Where had he come from? There was no one else out here on this cold holiday eve. What was he doing here? Why wasn't he home like everyone else enjoying his family? I kept my eyes on him as he started to walk slowly toward me. I started to panic. What if he knew me?

No, he couldn't know me. He was going to hurt me. Just an old down- and-out-bum on a cold night in a deserted park. Easy pickings. Slim pickings. Seventy-five miserable cents still clutched inside my glove. He kept coming toward me.

I slowly turned back to the lake. Maybe he'd get the hint I didn't want any part of anything or anybody. He could just pass on by, continue his strange nighttime stroll off into the thick snowstorm. Find someone else to rob if that was his intention. There'd be someone over at the bus stop with more money than I had.

A gentle hand settled on my shoulder. A quiet loving voice spoke into my ear: "I know you've done some good things in the past." He paused. "And I know you will again."

"You've done some good things..." I heard his words, I sucked them in, I turned them around in my booze-soaked mind. Suddenly, my oh-so-carefully constructed dam broke. Tears flooded my eyes, poured onto my checks, oozed through the stubble of my chin. Yes, yes, I had. But no one knew any more, no one cared what I'd done in the past. I was a total failure and always would be.

His voice was so gentle and caring. I wanted to hear more. I couldn't let myself hear more. I squirmed on the bench, raised my arm to rub my sleeve across my dripping nose. The movement released a whole new torrent of tears. Someone believed in me. Even I might do something good again.

Please go away, I thought. This is too painful.

Please stay, I thought. I want you to pick me up and rock me like a baby.

His gentle voice pulled me back. "You know, it's Christmas Eve. Do you have any place to go tonight?"

Oh my god, stop, old man, I thought. I don't want to be a crybaby, but the tears won't stop if you don't go away..."

Fortunately, the old man persisted.

"Over the following days and months, I realized a vital truth. On our deathbeds none of us will be thinking about the toys we had or the other "stuff" that occupied our lives. No, each and every one of us will be thinking about our families, about the lives we've touched, the good we've left behind.

I created the 10 Greatest Gifts Project to help teach people how to build and nurture healthy cultures in their organizations, schools and families. Healthy cultures that allow everyone to live and lead from the heart. Healthy cultures that build great people with vital qualities and values -- that allow people to be who they really want to be. Our facilitators are reaching into peoples hearts and pulling out the gold that's there in everyone.

You see, as I realized from that old man, the vast majority of people would rather contribute to positive, productive solutions; would rather make a positive contribution and a difference in the world, and in their family and organizations. The goal of the 10 Greatest Gifts Project is to share the skills that unlock people's potential for greatness.