Sandpipers Bring Joy
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where
I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles,
whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand
castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small
"I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand.
"That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring
us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. "Good-bye joy," I muttered
to myself, "hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my
life seemed completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
She giggled. "You're funny," she said.
In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle
"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."
The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly
Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, an ailing mother. The sun was shining one
morning as I took my hands out of the dish water. "I need a sandpiper,"
I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of
the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along,
trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child
and was startled when she appeared. "Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do
you want to play?"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know, you say."
"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter
burst forth again.
"I don't know what that is."
"Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness
of her face.
"Where do you live?" I asked.
"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange,
I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my
mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had
been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic.
I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on
the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with
me "I'd rather be alone today."
She seems unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought,
my God, why was I saying this to a little child? "Oh," she said quietly,
"then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day
before and-oh, go away!" "Did it hurt? " she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!!!!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in
myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't
there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her,
I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A
drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said. "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today
and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please,
accept my apologies."
"Not at all-she's a delightful child," I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant it. "Where is she?"
"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.
"She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn't say
no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called
happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." her voice
faltered. "She left something for you ... if only I can find it. Could
you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say
to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with
MR. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright
crayon hues - a yellow beach, a Blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath
was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled
up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened
wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry,
I'm so sorry, "I muttered over and over, and we wept together.
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six
words - one for each year of her life - that speak to me of harmony,
courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes
and hair the color of sand-who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE: I hope you have a few Kleenex tissues left in that box.
The above is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves
as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy
living and life and each other. Life is so complicated, the hustle
and bustle of everyday traumas, can make us lose focus about what
is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
This weekend, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and
by all means, take a moment, even if it is only ten seconds, and
stop and smell the roses.
All Good Things
He was in the first third grade
class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students
were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance,
but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking
without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though,
was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving
-- "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!"
I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed
to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was growing thin
when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake.
I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape
your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again."
I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I
had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it. I
remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my
desk, very deliberately opened by drawer and took out a roll of masking
Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces
of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to
the front of the room.
As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did
it!! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's
desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were,
"Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years
flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more
handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully
to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth
grade as he had in third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new
concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated
with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness
before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other
students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each
name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about
each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment,
and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie
smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet
of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire
class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant
anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much." No one ever
mentioned those papers in class again.
I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents,
but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students
were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned
from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home,
Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip—the weather, my experiences
in general. There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways
glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually
did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.
"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark
is." Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The
funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."
To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told
me about Mark. I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.
Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was,
Mark I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would
talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister
sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the
day of the funeral?
It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers,
and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last
walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one
to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as
pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I
nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a
lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's
farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting
for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet
out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought
you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook
paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I
knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed
all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank
you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather
sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of
my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our
wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then
Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet
and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with
me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all
saved our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all
his friends who would never see him again.
A Story To Live By
by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)
My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and
lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip.
This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It
was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price
tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought
this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She
never wore it.
She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."
He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes
we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material
for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't
ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed
when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow
an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California
from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about
all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about
the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm
reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the
view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more
time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not
endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them. I'm
not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special
event—such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia
I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if
I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries
without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks
in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well
as my party-going friends'.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary.
If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do
it now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that
she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think
she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might
have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past
I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite
food. I'm guessing—I'll never know. It's those little things left undone
that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because
I put off seeing good Friends whom I going to get in touch with-someday.
Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write—one
of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter
often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that
would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open
my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every
breath truly is...a gift from God. You've got to dance like nobody's watching,
and love like it's never going to hurt."
"People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't
need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there."-unknown
"Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. 'Pooh!' he whispered. 'Yes, Piglet?'
'Nothing,' said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. 'I just wanted to be sure of
I will not drag you along; I will not leave you alone; I will stand by
you and have my hand there for you to hold when you need to.
Moses Mendelssohn, the grandfather of the well-known German composer,
was far from being handsome. Along with a rather short stature, he had
a grotesque hunchback. One day he visited a merchant in Hamburg who had
a lovely daughter named Frumtje. Moses fell hopelessly in love with her.
But Frumtje was repulsed by his misshapen appearance.
When it came time for him to leave, Moses gathered his courage and climbed
the stairs to her room to take one last opportunity to speak with her.
She was a vision of Heavenly beauty, but caused him deep sadness by her
refusal to look at him. After several attempts at conversation, Moses
shyly asked, "Do you believe marriages are made in Heaven?"
"Yes," she answered, still looking at the floor. "And do you?"
"Yes I do," he replied. "You see, in Heaven at the birth of each boy,
the Lord announces which girl he will marry. When I was born, my future
bride was pointed out to me. Then the Lord added, "But your wife will
"Right then and there I called out, 'Oh Lord, a humpbacked woman would
be a tragedy. Please, Lord, give me the hump and let her be beautiful.'"
Then Frumtje looked up into his eyes and was stirred by some deep memory.
She reached out and gave Mendelssohn her hand and later became his devoted
--Barry and Joyce Vissell
If you were to get a mail from GOD.......
As you got up this morning, I watched you and hoped you would talk to
Me, even if it was just a few words, asking My opinion or thanking Me
for something good that happened in your life yesterday But I noticed
you were too busy trying to find the right outfit to put on and wear to
I waited again. When you ran around the house getting ready, I knew there
would be a few minutes for you to stop and say hello, but you were too
busy. At one point you had to wait fifteen minutes with nothing to do
except sit in a chair. Then I saw you spring to your feet. I thought you
wanted to talk to Me but you ran to the phone and called a friend to get
the latest gossip.
I watched as you went to work and I waited patiently all day long. With
all your activities I guess you were too busy to say anything to Me. I
noticed that before lunch you looked around, maybe you felt embarrassed
to talk to Me, that is why you didn't bow your head. You glanced, three
or four tables over and you noticed some of your friends talking to Me
briefly before they ate, but you didn't. That's okay. There is still more
time left, and I have hope that you will talk to Me yet you went home
and it seems as if you had lots of things to do.
After a few of them were done you turned on the TV, I don't know if you
like TV or not, just about anything goes there & you spent a lot of
time each day in front of it, not thinking about anything. Just enjoying
the show. I waited patiently again as you watched the TV and ate your
meal but again you didn’t talk to Me.
Bedtime I guess you felt too tired. After you said goodnight to your
family you plopped into bed and fell asleep in no time. That's okay because
you may not realize that I am always there for you. I've got patience
more than you will ever know. I even want to teach you how to be patient
with others as well love you so much that I wait everyday for a nod, prayer
or thought or a thankful part of your heart.
It is hard to have a one-sided conversation. Well you are getting up
again and once again I will wait with nothing but love for you hoping
that today you will give Me some time. Have a nice day.
As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had
lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification
so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars
and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the
return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue.
Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty
years ago. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder
blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a
"Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be
Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother
forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael,
that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the
operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find
the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if
there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment
then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't
give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number,
explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.
I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party
who will speak with you."
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by
the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family
who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!"
"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked. "I remember
that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,"
the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able
to track down the daughter."
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They
told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have
a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I
thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah
herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such
a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars
and a letter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the
nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who
answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us." Even though
it was already 10pm, I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he
said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the
day room watching television." I thanked him and drove over to the nursing
home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to
the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced
me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile
and a twinkle in her eye.
I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second
she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left,
she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last
contact I ever had with Michael."
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, "I
loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt
I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery,
"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you
should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for
a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know,"
she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry.
I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor
and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able
to help you?"
I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But
I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying
to find the owner of this wallet."
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with
red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute!
That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red
lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls
at least three times."
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's
wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."
I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told
her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on.
I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the
day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man." We went
to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a
book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet.
Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket
and said, "Oh, it is missing!"
"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled
with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my
pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the
letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"
"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is
she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged. "She's
fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where
she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You
know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that
letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always
loved her. "
"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me."
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened
and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where
Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over
to her. "Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting
with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.
Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you
She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!"
He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with
tears streaming down our faces.
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.
"Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah
are going to tie the knot!"
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed
up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked
beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me
their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever
wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like
two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.
-- author unknown
A true story from an Amoco Christmas party in Australia last year.
At a Christmas party in Melbourne last year the staff decided to pull
a practical joke on their boss who had a habit of playing serious practical
jokes on everyone else. When he went to the toilet, they went through
his wallet and found his Tats Lotto Ticket. Then, they wrote down his
numbers and called over the waitress to set up a little prank. She came
back half an hour later and asked if anyone wanted to know the night's
Lotto numbers, then proceeded to read them out loud before setting the
numbers on the table.
The boss looked at the numbers, then casually pulled out his ticket from
his wallet and compared them. He became really silent, put his wallet
back in his jacket and sat down again, and checked the numbers, very carefully.
Then, he sculled his drink, stood up on his chair and shouted out to the
whole room, "I just want to let you all know something.
I've been having an affair with my secretary for months. I don't like
any of you, and I have hated working for this company. You can all go
to Hell, cause I've just won a shit-load of money, and I'm leaving!"
End of job.
End of marriage.
End of story.
Thought Provoking ....
Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with 86,400.
It carries over no balance from day to day.
Every evening deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during
the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course!!!!
Each of us has such a bank. Its name is TIME. Every morning, it credits
you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever
of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no
balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you.
Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day's
deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing
against the "tomorrow."
You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to
get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success! The clock is
running. Make the most of today. To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask
a student who failed a grade. To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a
mother who gave birth to a premature baby. To realize the value of ONE
WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize the value of ONE
HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet. To realize the value of
ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train. To realize the value of
ONE-SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident. To realize the
value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a silver medal in the
Olympics. Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because
you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time.
And remember that time waits for no one. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow
is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present!!!
Blaaaah. Here's one for you...
If you think you're having a bad day, just read on...
1.. The average of rehabilitating a seal the Exxon Valdez oil spill in
Alaska was $80,000. At a special ceremony, two of the most expensively
saved animals were released back into the wild amid cheers and applause
from onlookers. A minute later they were both eaten by a killer whale.
2.. A psychology student in New York rented out her spare room to a carpenter
in order to nag him constantly and study his reactions. After weeks of
needling, he snapped and beat her repeatedly with an ax handle leaving
her mentally retarded.
3.. In 1992, Frank Perkins of Los Angeles made an attempt on the world
flagpole-sitting record. Suffering from the flu he came down eight hours
short of the 400 day record, his sponsor had gone bust, his girlfriend
had left him and his phone and electricity had been cut off.
4.. A woman came home to find her husband in the kitchen, shaking frantically
with what looked like a wire running from his waist towards the electric
kettle. Intending to jolt him away from the deadly current she whacked
him with a handy plank of wood by the back door, breaking his arm in two
places. Until that moment he had been happily listening to his Walkman.
5.. Two animal rights protesters were protesting at the cruelty of sending
pigs to a slaughterhouse in Bonn. Suddenly the pigs, all two thousand
of them, escaped through a broken fence and stampeded, trampling the two
hapless protesters to death.
And the capper......
6.. Iraqi terrorist, Khay Rahnajet, didn't pay enough postage on a letter
bomb. It came back with "return to sender" stamped on it. Forgetting it
was his bomb; he opened it and was blown to bits.
Signs that you have had too much of the 90's:
01) You tried to enter your password
on the microwave.
02) You now think of three espressos as "getting wasted."
03) You haven't played solitaire with a real deck of cards in years.
04) You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3.
05) You e-mail your son in his room to tell him that dinner is ready,
he e-mails you back "What's for dinner?"
06) Your daughter sells Girl Scout Cookies via her web site.
07) You chat several times a day with a stranger from South Africa, but
you haven't spoken to your next door neighbor yet this year.
08) You didn't give your valentine a card this year, but you posted one
for your e-mail buddies via a web page.
09) Your daughter just bought a C.D. of all the records your college roommate
used to play.
10) You check the ingredients on a can of chicken noodle soup to see if
it contains Echinacea.
11) You check your blow dryer to see if it's Y2K compliant.
12) Your grandmother clogs up your e-mail Inbox, asking you to send her
JPEG file of your newborn so she can create a screen saver.
13) You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if
anyone is home.
Live while you still can!
Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
Memorize your favorite poem
Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.
When you say, "I love you", mean it.
When you say, "I'm sorry", look the person in the eye.
Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
Believe in love at first sight.
Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have
Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way
to live life completely.
In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.
Don't judge people by their relatives.
Talk slowly but think quickly.
When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask,
"Why do you want to know?"
Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
Call your mom
Say "bless you" when you hear someone sneeze.
When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; Responsibility
for all your actions
Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct
Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.
Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational
skills will be as important as any other.
Spend some time alone.
Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Read more books and watch less TV.
Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll
get to enjoy it a second time.
Trust in God but lock your car.
A loving atmosphere in your home is so important. Do all you can to create
a tranquil harmonious home.
In disagreements with loved ones, deal with the current situation. Don't
bring up the past.
Read between the lines.
Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
Be gentle with the earth.
Pray. There's immeasurable power in it.
Never interrupt when you are being flattered.
Mind your own business.
Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.
If you make a lot of money, put it to use helping others while you are
living. That is wealth's greatest satisfaction.
Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a stroke of luck.
Learn the rules then break some.
Remember that the best relationship is one where your love for each other
is greater than your need for each other.
Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
Remember that your character is your destiny.
Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.
To whom it may concern:
Wouldn't it be great if life was that simple again! Too bad we don't appreciate it when we can!!!
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided
I would like to regain the responsibilities of an 8-year old. I want to
go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant. I want to
sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples in a pond with
I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them.
I want to play dodge ball at recess and paint with watercolors in art
class. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with
my friends on a hot summer's day. I want to return to a time when life
When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes.
But that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know,
and you didn't care.
All you knew was to be happy, because you were blissfully unaware of all
the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I
want to believe that anything is possible and that everyone can live forever.
I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life, and overly xcited
by the little things again.
I want to return to the days when children played hide-and-seek outside
instead of being glued to a television set. I remember being naïve
and thinking everyone was happy because I was. My afternoons were spent
climbing trees and fences and riding my bike. I never worried about time,
bills, or where I was going to find the money to buy things.
I want to live simply again. I don't want my day to consist of depressing
news, mountains of paperwork, computer crashes, doctor's bills, gossip,
illness, and the loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of
smiles, hugs, a kind work, truth, justice, peace, dreams, and making angels
in the snow. So here are my credit card statements, my car keys, my pager,
and my cell phone.
I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss
this further, you'll have to catch me first, because "Tag! You're it!"
Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
Do you run through each day on the fly
When you ask "How are you?"
do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
'Cause you never had time
to call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
Jenny was so happy about the house they had found.
For once in her life 'twas on the right side of town.
She unpacked her things with such great ease.
As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze.
How wonderful it was to have her own room.
School would be starting, she'd have friends over soon.
There'd be sleep-overs, and parties; she was so happy
It's just the way she wanted her life to be.
On the first day of school, everything went great.
She made new friends and even got a date!
She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be,
Because I just got a date with the star of the team!"
To be known in this school you had to have a clout,
And dating this guy would sure help her out.
There was only one problem stopping her fate.
Her parents had said she was too young to date.
"Well I just won't tell them the entire truth.
They won't know the difference; what's there to lose?"
Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night.
Her parents frowned but said, "All right."
Excited, she got ready for the big event
But as she rushed around like she had no sense,
She began to feel guilty about all the lies,
But what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride?
Well the pizza was good, and the party was great,
But the moonlight ride would have to wait.
For Jeff was half drunk by this time.
But he kissed her and said that he was just fine.
Then the room filled with smoke and Jeff took a puff.
Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff.
Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point
But only after he'd smoked another joint.
They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride,
Not thinking that he was too drunk to drive.
They finally made it to the point at last,
And Jeff started trying to make a pass.
A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all
(and by a pass, I don't mean playing football.)
"Perhaps my parents were right....maybe I am too young.
Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb."
With all of her might, she pushed Jeff say away:
"Please take me home, I don't want to stay."
Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas.
In a matter of seconds they were going too fast.
As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger,
Jenny knew that her life was in danger.
She begged and pleaded for him to slow down,
But he just got faster as they neared the town.
"Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied.
I really went out for a moonlight ride."
Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash.
"Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!"
She doesn't remember the force of impact.
Just that everything all of a sudden went black.
She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble,
And heard, "call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!"
Voices she heard...a few words at best.
But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.
Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right,
And if the people in the other car was alive.
She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad.
"You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad."
These voices echoed inside her head,
As they gently told her that Jeff was dead.
They said, "Jenny, we've done all we can do.
But it looks as if we'll lose you too."
"But the people in the other car!?"Jenny cried.
"We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."
Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've done
I only wanted to have just one night of fun."
"Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim,
And wish I could return their families to them."
"Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied,
And that it's my fault so many have died.
Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"
The nurse just stood there-she never agreed.
But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes.
And a few moments later Jenny died.
A man asked the nurse, "Why didn't you do your best
To bid that girl her one last request?"
She looked at the man with eyes so sad.
"Because the people in the other car were her mom and
A Simple or a Real Friend
A simple friend has never seen you cry.
A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.
A simple friend doesn't know your parents first names.
A real friend has their phone numbers in their address book.
A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.
A real friend comes early to help you cook and stays to help you clean.
A simple friend hates it when you call after they have gone to bed.
A real friend asks you why it took you so long to call.
A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.
A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.
A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
A real friend could blackmail you with it!
A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A real friend opens the refrigerator and helps themselves.
A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you have an argument.
A real friend knows that it's not a friendship until after you've had
A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
A real friend expects to always be there for you!
A simple friend will read this and throw it away.
A real friend will send it back to you until they're sure it's been received.