Tui xin một cái topic nhé....

SAFELY HOME
My fellow Americans, this day has brought terrible news and great
sadness to our country.
At 9am this morning, Mission Control in Houston lost contact with our
Space Shuttle Columbia. A short time later, debris was seen falling from
the skies above Texas. The Columbia is lost; there are no survivors.
On board was a crew of seven: Colonel Rick Husband; Lt. Colonel
Michael Anderson; Commander Laurel Clark; Captain David Brown; Commander
William McCool; Dr. Kalpana Chawla; and Ilan Ramon, a Colonel in the
Israeli Air Force.
These men and women assumed great risk in the service to all humanity.
In an age when space flight has come to seem almost routine, it is easy to
overlook the dangers of travel by rocket, and the difficulties of
navigating the fierce outer atmosphere of the Earth. These astronauts knew
the dangers, and they faced them willingly, knowing they had a high and
noble purpose in life. Because of their courage and daring and idealism,
we will miss them all the more.
All Americans today are thinking, as well, of the families of these
men and women who have been given this sudden shock and grief. You're not
alone. Our entire nation grieves with you. And those you loved will
always have the respect and gratitude of this country. The cause in which
they died will continue.
Mankind is led into the darkness beyond our world by the inspiration
of discovery and the longing to understand. Our journey into space will go
on. In the skies today we saw destruction and tragedy. Yet farther than
we can see there is comfort and hope. In the words of the prophet Isaiah,
"Lift your eyes and look to the heavens. Who created all these? He who
brings out the starry hosts one by one and calls them each by name.
Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is
missing."
The same Creator who names the stars also knows the names of the seven
souls we mourn today. The crew of the shuttle Columbia did not return
safely to Earth; yet we can pray that all are safely home.
May God bless the grieving families, and may God continue to bless America.
-- George W. Bush, President of the United States
====
MISSION COMPLETE
by Linda E. Newman
'Tis a sad day today in the US of A,
In Israel, and around the world;
As the Columbia crew was headed home
On a glide, with its wings unfurled.
They were seven of NASA's finest,
Men and women of varied race,
Who'd gone beyond the bonds of Earth
And traveled throughout space.
So bright the sun, so blue the sky,
Their mission was complete,
Their thoughts now turned to families,
Their waiting arms to meet.
But part way through their final glide,
Mid trails of smoke and exhaust,
An explosion ripped the Texas skies,
And seven lives were lost.
Those seven men and women now
Will e'er the blue skies roam,
For they have earned their angel's wings;
NASA -- we are home.
-- Linda E. Newman <GramLin99 @ aol.com>
February 1, 2003
====
COLUMBIA
by Rhonda Kay Powell
"I want to touch the stars," she said.
And I could not get her off the roof
Where she stood every chance she got,
My bright child, my beautiful child,
Her eyes always turned skyward.
Into the realms of blackest night
And shimmering stardust
Always longing, Always restless
To travel ever further from this mortal coil
Out there amongst the spiraling planets
Of hot and cold, violent super storms
Rings of ice, caustic burning gasses
There her heart wandered without fear
"Vacuum space may steal my breath away," she said
"But I will always live in the eternal pull
Of this planet's magnetic core
In the crackle and hiss
Of that star's shower of radiation
And in the beautiful, flowing holocaust gasses
Of every color washed nebula..."
Oh, the pain then, and the joy however harsh
To see her overhead brighten to white
And fall before my eyes
See here the star she was, the star she is
Gone far from my empty arms
Where now does she wander?
Whose eyes now watch her flight?
What lands now welcome her home
As I cannot?
Reaches of space once beyond her grasp
Now unfold within the palm of her hand
In infinite constellations of beauty and grace.
-- Rhonda Kay Powell <invictus @ alaska.com>
February 1, 2003
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

SHE UNDERSTOOD
by Jim Willis
I didn't want to spoil anyone's Valentine's Day by announcing that I
had to say goodbye to my elderly rescued Basset Hound "Holly Golightly".
Holly was about 10 when I adopted her on her last day from a kill
shelter, and she was approaching 14. She had a stroke several weeks ago
and hadn't made a good recovery. I knew she was in her last days and
partially concerned about the quality of her life. I was also partially
spurred by an erroneous weather prediction that could have meant I'd be
snowed-in on my mountain for several days.
It was appropriate that the day commemorating love should be her last
day on Earth.
I drove 15 miles past the vet office to get to the nearest fast-food
restaurant to order Holly two plain cheeseburgers, without a dill pickle.
I was very clear about that at the drive-through intercom because they'd
made that mistake before and Holly accused me of trying to poison her (and
I had to go back inside and order her new cheeseburgers!).
I made it to the pick-up window before the tears started to flow and
the elderly woman working the window asked, "Are you okay, honey?"
"Not really," I said. "I'm on the way to have my old dog put to sleep
and I wanted her to have some final cheeseburgers." The poor woman started
crying, too, and refused to accept money for my order. (I think I'll take
her a box of candy next week. I bet she paid for them herself out of her
minimum-wage earnings.)
Holly never knew or cared how "famous" she was. She had inspired what
has been called the most published animal-related essay in the world,
translated into more than 25 foreign languages. She only wanted her
homecooked dinner served on time and for me to play doorman for her 100
times a day. She'd been incontinent for the past year, and despite all
proper precautions, and newspaper provided for her benefit, she felt the
need to announce her incontinence to me at 3 or 4am.
She never knew that "her" story, "How Could You?", when read by a
drivetime radio DJ in Toronto, stopped traffic. And then it was repeated
with similar results in other cities. Or that it encouraged some people to
think, change their minds, get involved, and most importantly, for some to
go to the nearest shelter and save a beautiful animal being who didn't
deserve to die, who never deserved to be abandoned. I hope now, in a
better place, she knows that.
She changed a lot of lives, most especially mine, and I miss her so.
As much as I would appreciate anyone's sympathy, what Holly and I
would appreciate more is that you download the story she inspired, "How
Could You?" and distribute it where it can do some more good. That's the
greatest tribute we could pay her.
I gave her a final kiss and whispered "How Could You?" in her ear, and
I think she understood.
-- Jim Willis <jwillis @ bellatlantic.net
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

100/0
by Dorothy Casper
As a teenager I had certain ideas in my mind that constituted the
idyllic life of love and marriage.
In Home Economics, our teacher had us plan the perfect wedding, and
the perfect reception, right down to the throwing of rice and driving away
in a limousine. It was just like the movies where the nice guy gets the
beautiful girl and they live happily ever after. Reality was not a part of
the picture.
After high school, came college and my determination to become a
nurse. I forgot about marriage. I could put that on hold since I was
going to help people and travel.
Surprisingly, two years later I met the man I would marry. It's often
said, "opposites attract." This was really true about us.
He was from a small town in Idaho and farmed with his father. I was
from a Southern town, which had a greater population than the entire state
of Idaho. I had always been emphatic that I didn't know whom I would
marry, but one thing was for sure -- he would not be a farmer or dairyman!
Well, I was wrong in both cases. They were not only farmers but
dairymen as well.
We were married in October just prior to the beginning of heavy
snowfalls. By December, we were walking over fence posts, and chains for
the snow tires were required most of the winter. Our only entertainment
was listening to the radio or the local high school sporting events.
My new husband was a lover of sports. He had been a champion boxer
and also participated in most sports. I was a lover of the arts. Speech,
drama and dance were my first love. The nearest town with this kind of
entertainment was forty miles away and the highway was closed off and on
all winter.
We had only been married seven months when I received word that my
mother, who was battling cancer, would not live much longer. Even though
there was the dairy with 75 cows and 1400 acres to farm, as soon as my
husband read the telegram, he sadly said, "Honey, get your bags packed
while I make reservations for you. Your place is with your mother and your
father right now."
To him there had been no other decision to make. Every week I would
receive a letter telling me all about how the farm was doing and inquiring
about my parents and how we were all doing. Little was said about his
sadness of being alone, or of missing his new bride, except at the very end
of his letters where an unmistakable, "I love you" was written.
Teenage dream letters would have been filled with remarks of undying
love and pain of missing me, but his letters were simple words of reality.
Four months later, after the funeral and final matters were taken care
of with my father and brother, I returned to Idaho where I knew my husband
would be at the airport to meet me.
The look in his eyes told me more than any dream letter could. The
joy and honesty of love was deep. On the 80-mile drive to our home, I
talked incessantly while he quietly listened, without interrupting. When
he finally had a chance to respond, he asked me to open the glove
compartment of the car and take out an envelope with my name on it.
"I wanted to give you something special to let you know how much I
missed you," he said quietly.
I opened the envelope to find season tickets, for both of us, to all
of the area's fine art functions. Our income was not all that great and I
was stunned.
"I don't believe this," I cried, "You don't enjoy these things!"
When I finally stopped protesting, he reached out, hugged me and
quietly said, "No, but you do, and I will learn."
In that moment I realized marriage wasn't 50/50, but real love was
made of 100/0 sometimes. Love means putting the other one first.
His example taught his young wife a great lesson -- a lesson that has
made a happy marriage for 51 years.
-- Dorothy Casper <Blueprint4Living @ bizland.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

THINK MASSAGE
by Tracey Rolofson
When making an appointment at the local massage parlor, don't forget
to make one for your four-legged friend!
Seriously -- all animals, from your canine companion to your
performance horse to your feathered friends, can all benefit from massage
therapy. I am an animal massage student, studying the IPT method of
massage.
IPTouch animal massage will build trust and bonding, reduce stress and
tension, create balance, dispel pain in tense muscles, and restore mobility
and flexibility. Massage can also facilitate the healing process by
increasing the flow of nutrients to the muscles and assists in carrying
away excessive fluids and toxins.
Animals, whether it is your fussy feline, your mischievous ferret,
your best canine companion, your trail riding horse, or your competition
horse, can all suffer from stress, tension and muscle soreness, just as
their humans do.
Now, I know your thinking. Why should my animal be stressed? They
get fed twice a day, snacks, love and attention, what more could they
possibly need? The truth of it is, animals can get stressed by trying to
please us, their owners.
When animals have tension, it can cause the sympathetic (fight or
flight) nervous system to remain on. When the sympathetic system remains
on, it can create a variety of symptoms -- such as physical ailments,
digestive disorders, mental or emotional difficulties, even temperment or
behavioral changes. IPTouch will activate the parasympathetic nervous
system, so the flight system turns off and the end result is a happier,
healthier animal.
The pressure placed on some of our young performance horses,
especially the futurity horses, can certainly create a tremendous stress on
their muscles and minds, and can have an overwhelming effect on their
overall health. It is not uncommon for many of these youngsters to develop
digestive orders, ulcers and attitude issues.
The show of resistance, lack of willingness to move in a particular
manner or refusal to perform a certain task, could be a sign of muscular
discomfort.
Massage care is not a substitute for veterinary care, and should only
be sought after veterinary treatment.
Massage did not come to America until the late 1800's and it has only
been since the first half of the 20th Century that human medical
practitioners have found many benefits for their patients. Hopefully, it
won't be long until the Veterinary field can see the benefits of animal
massage.
My ultimate goal is for the animals to live comfortable and healthy
lives by reducing tension and stress and to create an overall balance
within them. I believe massage will do all that and more. Massage in
humans has been found to strengthen the immune system. I feel massage can
help the animal universe, and help our working animals perform their jobs
better.
So the next time you notice something amiss with your pet, and you and
your veterinarian can't find any reason for it -- Think Massage!
-- Tracey Rolofson <tracey @ btstream.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

BEEPING FEARS
by Annette Haltom
My husband, Troy, has just started to wear a beeper for the real
estate office.
It makes him look very professional and important (never mind that
practically every kid on the street wears one). However, there is one
creature that doesn't share our enthusiasm for his beeper -- our Black Lab
mix, Mariah!
There is something about the frequency of the beep that freaks her
out. The first few times that it went off early in the morning she
frantically tried to burrow under our bodies as we sleepily wondered what
on earth was wrong with her. It wasn't even loud enough to wake us up, but
it scared her. She was shaking so much that her teeth began to rattle.
It doesn't seem to be a "dog thing" because our other dog, Sadie,
isn't bothered by it at all. Thankfully, it doesn't bother the cats or the
bird either.
This morning it beeped because Troy forgot to turn it off last night.
We thought "Uh-Oh, that's going to scare Mariah!" So, Troy scrambled up
and ran to turn it off. He came back and we both wondered where she was.
She is a dog who is a shadow at all times, but she was nowhere in the
room, and she hadn't come to us with her fears. That was very odd. We got
up and searched all over the house, and no Mariah. We wondered if she
could have been left outside somehow. That didn't seem likely because she
flings herself against the glass door in a way that is impossible to
ignore.
Troy was pulling on his clothes to search outside when she finally
came down the stairs. Mariah is a big dog and I had searched everywhere.
It would be hard to miss a big Black Lab.
Where had she been?
She skulked past us like a dog that has been beaten, and slithered
under our bed. It took some cajoling to get her to come out to eat, and
she loves to eat! She relaxed then and acted like her usual self.
We never did figure out where she had been hiding. Troy said that
from now on he is going to leave his beeper in the car until he is ready
for work. Mariah will be grateful.
-- Annette Haltom <Bberrycrk @ aol.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

A POSITIVE WAY
by Chick Moorman
"I won't accept that kind of language in my class."
Those were the words that one of Austin's sixth grade teachers used,
immediately following his utterance of the "S" word in class.
Austin doesn't typically use the "S" word, the "F" word, or any other
word that has to be abbreviated with capital letters. He knows better and
he usually acts accordingly. But on this day, he reached into his
backpack, realized he had left an important paper in his locker, and
without thinking about possible ramifications, let the word flow into the
classroom atmosphere.
A classmate overheard him, informed the teacher, and so continued the
string of events that would lead to Austin's only (so far) school
detention.
"Did you use the "S" word?" asked his teacher, Mrs. Geuder.
"Yes," replied my eleven-year old grandson, owning his behavior.
"I won't accept that kind of language in my class," his teacher continued.
"I know," said Austin. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used it."
What followed next is critical. It is the language and behavior that
separates extraordinary teachers from those that are average. It reflects
a way of looking at life and the teaching/learning process that is
positive, nurturing, uplifting and inspiring. It is the way of Spirit
Whisperers.
"Thank you for telling the truth," said Mrs. Geuder. "I'm glad you
admitted it. I will be writing you a detention notice for using profanity
in the classroom. Your grandfather will have to sign and return the notice
to the school office and you will have to serve a detention after school
one day next week."
"OK," Austin said, reluctantly.
The detention notice that Austin brought home that day was simple and
straightforward. It contained his name, the date, the class, the teacher's
name, the time, and the infraction. A place was provided for my signature.
As detention notices go, this one was pretty ordinary.
It was the note that accompanied the detention notice that was special.
"Austin really reacted positively to the detention," the note began.
"He didn't try to argue. He admitted it quickly and owned up to it. He
readily accepted the consequences of his behavior. He's really improving
in this area."
Mrs. Geuder's note touched on all the positive aspects of Austin's
behavior. It informed us of all the things he had done well. It focused
on his strengths and the improvement he had made since the beginning of the
year.
What is important to note here, is that Austin's teacher did not make
him wrong. She did not make him bad. She did not make him awful. She did
not make him a troublemaker. She simply made him someone who got a
detention.
She knew where the boundaries of appropriate behavior in her classroom
were, made those lines clear, and did it in a way that helped him see the
positive side of his behavior.
What a positive way to handle a negative situation!
-- Chick Moorman <ipp57 @ aol.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

SOONER OR LATER
by Jennifer Oliver
We've all heard the vows. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in
health.
I didn't realize when I repeated those vows that I would also be
marrying Stephen for "sooner or later."
Stephen has no concept of time. An hour to us is like ten minutes to him.
"There's not enough hours in the day!" he'd complain.
"But, Stephen," I'd say, "there's plenty of hours in the day. It's
how you manage your time that makes them disappear."
Over the years I've bought him watches. He never wore them. He'd
have one wrapped around the stick shift in the truck. One on his
nightstand. One in his pocket. And each found its way to the big sundial
in the sky. So I stopped buying him watches.
One afternoon, while working on a hunch, I surfed the Internet. My
six-year-old son, Ethan, had fallen under the reading grade level. His
teacher complained about his inattentiveness, outbursts, unfinished
schoolwork. His behavior pattern matched his father's. All his life,
Stephen was known as a hyper child, spilling at least one glass of milk a
day. Pinning himself down to do homework was as much a part of his life as
feeling scattered, frustrated, and locked into his own private hell.
And there they were. The words jumped out at me from the monitor.
"...restlessness, fidgety..."
"...difficulty paying attention..."
"...usually late or rushing..."
"...works long hours due to inefficient ways..."
"...sensitivity to binding items, like jewelry, watches, and tight
clothing..."
Just a few signs of attention deficit hyperactive disorder (ADHD).
I showed Stephen the sites. He was stunned.
"I didn't know there was a whole tribe of people out there just like
me," he said in an awed tone. Then he turned to me, his eyes watering, and
said, "And I don't want Ethan to struggle through life like I have."
A month later -- after much research and soul-searching -- Stephen
took Ethan to a psychologist, who confirmed that father and son had ADHD.
Not long after embarking on drug therapy, they are relishing a special kind
of freedom. Ethan's grades are climbing back up as he is able to focus on
his schoolwork better. He comes home on top of the world with each day
marked by a smiley face in his notebook.
Stephen used to wake up with a million thoughts pounding him into a
mountain of frustration. Nowadays, as a househubby, he's able to tackle
each project from beginning to end on our fixer-upper, even with all the
distractions that come from raising four children.
It's ironic that when Stephen rented cabinet space at an antique mall,
he began filling it with all kinds of unusual timepieces. Pocket watches,
alarm clocks, traveling clocks, cuckoo clocks, hypnotic clocks. He has a
hard time keeping his cabinet stocked because of a collector from Dallas
who likes to swoop down and grab an armful with each trip.
But still, Stephen won't wear a watch. My guess is he's always known
that time has a knack for catching up with him.
Sooner or later.
-- Jennifer Oliver <four_ears @ msn.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

TRỜI UI, TUI PHỤC TÍNH KIÊN NHẪN CỦA BÁC ĐẤY,
CÔNG NHẬN TRANG ĐÓ HAY THẬT, NHƯNG MÀ LÂU LÂU MỚI CÓ BÀI HAY, CÒN CÓ NHỮNG BÀI NHƯ KIỂU NHẬT KÍ Ý, DÙ SAO CŨNG BRAVO BÁC NHỈ, EM TẶNG CHO BÁC 5 SAO NHÁ
,,,,,,
Cuz tomorrow may rain, I follow the sun...

... Đúng thui đâu phải lúc nào cái gì cũng hay đâu ...Hì cứ coi như đọc cho biết vậy ..Không được cái này thì cái khác ..Ok Cảm ơn ....
==============
WORTH MORE THAN RUBIES
by Jaye Lewis
I have a very special friend who has taught me more about true
friendship than I could learn in a thousand lifetimes.
Throughout her many illnesses she has taught me more about courage
than I could learn on a battlefield.
She has been buffeted by disease, cut apart by surgeons and sewn back
together, and has endured long, painful recoveries. Some successful. Some
not. Yet one thing remains constant with Diane -- her absolute selfless
struggle to do more for others than she will ever do for herself.
Diane and I live within an hour of one another. We are both often
housebound due to health issues. Our friendship began over the Internet,
due to an odd twist of events. Her brother is my pastor. We both had
health issues, and we began to share and pray together. Also, it is
through Diane that I first was introduced to Heartwarmers.
I will never forget one particularly difficult period, when my health
issues and the weather were cooperating to make me housebound. I emailed a
short note to Diane telling her how much I wished we lived closer, so that
I could just give her a hug. Then I got as busy as was possible, and felt
better just letting her know how I felt.
Next thing I knew, there was a knock at my door.
I went to the door, ready for my "we don't want any" speech, and there
stood Diane, holding a balloon and wearing a big smile.
"Someone told me that you needed a hug!" she said, holding out her
arms and the balloon. That's Diane.
A little more than a year ago, my daughter, Jenny, was about to
undergo brain surgery. My God, it was so sudden! There was no time to
prepare. My health would not permit me to go to the University of Virginia
and be there for Jenny's surgery. The prognosis was scary. So much could
go wrong. My husband and other daughter went to be with Jenny, while I
stayed home keeping prayerful watch, and writing to every Heartwarmer I
knew who believed in the power of prayer. The prayer requests went around
the world -- Africa, Australia, Canada, Asia, the Middle East. And who was
holding my hand through it all? Diane.
Diane epitomizes that woman "of noble character" in Proverbs 31.
Diane is "worth far more than rubies. She opens her arms to the poor and
extends her hands to the needy," even if the "needy" have more than Diane.
I'm quite certain that Diane and I will be in heaven together --
having all the time in eternity to do the things we love to do together. I
will look forward to resting in the eternal landscape of God's true beauty.
I think I'll need the rest, occasionally. For I hope that I will receive
the honor of helping to carry around that great crown, which I'm quite
certain God will be giving to Diane.
-- Jaye Lewis <jlewis @ smyth.net>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế

BUTTERSCOTCH
by Anika Logan
When I was in college, my mother had a grand total of seven cats in
her home.
There was enough love to go around for all of them. Mom lived alone
so they were more than just pets to her -- they were her babies as she
lovingly referred to them. They all had their own unique personalities and
she adored each and every one of them for it.
In my dorm I was unable to have pets so I looked forward to my visits
home, when I could see all of Mom's babies. It lifted my heart to see the
bright looks on each of the little ones' faces and hear their purrs of
satisfaction.
It was on my Christmas break home during my last year of school that I
went into the kitchen one day and stopped to gaze out the window.
Something rather unusual looking on the porch caught my eye. My curiosity
piqued, I bundled up against the cold and stepped outside to take a closer
look.
At first glance it appeared to be a pile of blanket. What on earth?
I wondered.
Edging closer I saw that it was some sort of shelter, no, a plastic
house with a blue tarp constructed over it and there was indeed a pile of
old blankets rigged over the top somehow. I had to admit it was an
elaborate set.
I bent down to look inside. Almost on cue I heard a gentle meow
issued from inside and then out came a beautiful orange colored cat. It
looked to be one of last spring's babies. He (as I quickly noted the ***
of the cat) was shorthaired and had the most gorgeous green eyes. He
looked up at me with an inquisitive look and then promptly began to purr at
a steady rhythm and rub against my legs. I picked him up and noted how
soft his fur was.
"What an adorable baby you are!" I told him as I smiled and cuddled
him close. "Who would get rid of a sweetie like you?"
"I wonder that myself. He is a lovely cat. I named him Butterscotch
because of his color. I think it suits him. I see you two are making
friends."
I turned around to see my mother standing there.
"Mom, you've got another baby!" I exclaimed.
"I have," she responded. "They always seem to know where to go when
they are in search of a home. I help the ones I can."
"And you do an excellent job at it," I told her. "This house," I
motioned to it, "is amazing. What brilliant idea will you think of next?"
Pleased at the compliment Mom said, "Butterscotch showed up one day in
November, terribly skinny but as affectionate as ever. I called around and
put signs up but nobody came to claim him. I had a full house and couldn't
bring him inside but I couldn't let him suffer either and he was far too
young to fend for himself. So I looked around until I found this little
house. I tirelessly fixed it up until it lived up to my standards. I
bought these special bags made of beanbags called Magic Bags and heat them
for him continuously to keep him warm. It gets really cozy in there
believe me!"
I shook my head in amazement. All that effort for one small cat!
"Mom I wanna be just like you when I grow up!" I teased her playfully.
"Oh go on!" she laughed back. "You're going to love this one -- these
bags came from the drug store, they are actually meant to be used for sore
muscles!"
We shared a laugh at that one.
Thanks to Mom's love and attention Butterscotch made it through the
winter with no problem at all. I graduated the following spring and now
Butterscotch, who is a little over a year old, lives with me and his new
friend and constant companion, Adam -- a two month old grey and white
kitten.
Mom's outdoor cat house is still in place in the event that another
stray cat who is lost his or her way comes calling.
Who says no story has a happy ending?!
-- Anika Logan <ani_logan @ yahoo.com>

===​

SUNNY TODAY
by James "PoppyK" Kisner
He walks along the narrow path that leads down to the lake,
To find his old secluded place where he can me***ate.
When he is feeling lonely or when he is feeling down,
He knows that it is quiet there and no one is around.
So many times he's made this trip when he gets in this mood,
It is the only place he knows to find some solitude.
It matters not what time of day or what time of the year,
Never has he ever seen another person here.
Maybe it's too hidden or the path may be too slim,
He sometimes thinks the only one who knows of it is him.
People are around the lake: He sees them from this place,
But maybe no one knows about his special little space.
There was a time when someone else would share these special times,
Sitting on the bank with him while shaded by the pines.
This had been their special place, a special hideaway,
Where they would bring a picnic lunch and just enjoy the day.
They would sit for hours and enjoy the summer breeze,
And they would come in autumn to enjoy the changing leaves.
Just some quiet time alone to talk and laugh for hours,
This is how they took the time, to stop and smell the flowers.
Now he sits here all alone and thinks about the past,
Realizing life goes on and things in life don't last.
All is temporary as we live from day to day,
What we held so dear in life may soon just fade away.
He thinks about the headlines that are spread across the news,
He thinks of all the things we have and all that we could lose.
He thinks of all the tension in the lives of those today,
But then he thinks, it's nothing new, it's always been that way.
Every generation always had a cross to bear,
Even in this country's past a threat was always there.
But somehow this seems different in a world of vast turmoil,
Maybe it's because the threat is here on our own soil.
He throws a pebble in the lake and ripples circle out,
He is confused by many things but knows without a doubt,
Life is never constant, it brings happiness and sorrow,
Maybe that is why it says "take no thought of tomorrow"
He thinks of all his yesterdays with those he chose to love,
Some have left and gone away while some have gone above.
Some have left sweet memories that will linger on for years,
While others left the memories that will always bring on tears.
He turns to leave his special place: His me***ating done,
Down his special little path before the setting sun.
The sun shines brightly through the trees while shadows rearrange,
He realizes like the shadows, life will always change.
Nothing we can ever do can change things in the past,
And the plans we have tomorrow surely will not last.
Life is always changing and it's always been that way,
But he looks up and feels the warmth; The sun shines bright TODAY.
-- James "PoppyK" Kisner <PoppyK1 @ aol.com>

===​

SMART AS A WHIP
by Arlene Millman
It was the spring of 1980, and I had recently lost Buttons, my beloved
two year old Boston Terrier.
After researching the inherent longevity of potential pets, I narrowed
the choices down to either a tortoise or a parrot. They were both
genetically predisposed to live much longer than a dog. Ideally, the new
ad***ion would be my companion for many years to come.
Eventually, I opted for a parrot.
One April afternoon, I visited a local pet store, Parrots of the
World, in search of my newest family member. Stepping through the
threshold was like arriving at tropical paradise. My senses were
immediately overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of swirling colors and a
cacophony of shrill squawks. There were all shapes and sizes of parrots.
They were not in cages, as I had expected, but in a natural habitat setting
of open perches.
At first, I focused on a group of orange-cheeked ****ateils. They
were tiny and adorable. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight
of a bird that took my breath away.
The plumage on the back and wings was a stunning shade of iridescent
blue, while the under-carriage and chest were covered with fluffy down --
the color of a deep golden sunset. He was making gurgling noises, and
despite the comparatively large size, he was in the nursery section. On my
part, it was love at first sight. This intriguing creature, who I later
named Prana Bird, was attempting to keep its balance standing on the left
foot, while nibbling on a juicy orange wedge that was grasped tightly in
its right foot. Sticky orange juice was dripping everywhere, down the
sides of his cheeks, and all the way down his chest, leaving a wet trail
through the deep gold feathers.
After he had my attention, he winked mischievously -- his white cheek
patches turning a deep shade of pink, as he flirted with me and blushed. I
approached him slowly, and he made a clumsy half leap onto my extended
forearm, where he wiped the sticky remnants of the orange from his black
beak onto my arm. I was hooked on this baby blue and gold Macaw. I was
drawn to his physical beauty and fascinated by his winning personality.
From the beginning, Prana Bird was quite a character and extremely
bright. He was only three months old, and just learning to crack seeds. I
put him on layaway, and visited him weekly, until he was old enough to come
home. It was a hot and hazy day in early July, when I finally brought
Prana Bird home. By then, he had me wrapped around his little claw.
He was my very first bird, and he was a delight! He learned to mimic
sounds and speak English fluently. According to all the books on Macaws,
they were a long-lived and highly intelligent species. It was not unusual
for a blue and gold Macaw to live upwards of sixty years in captivity. I
was in heaven, and my remaining Boston Terrier, Cooky, gave him an
introduction on how to speak perfect canine.
Fast forward over two decades. My Prana was not a Boston Terrier, but
he certainly sounded like one. He could imitate the sounds of their barks,
yelps and growls to perfection. Prana Bird celebrated his twenty-third
birthday this past January 29th. He played with his wooden chew toys, ate
with gusto, and appeared to be the picture of health. He glowed with
happiness, blushing for me as always.
I am heartbroken to announce that I lost him this past Sunday evening.
A necropsy was performed on Monday, revealing the cause of death to be an
aneurysm of the right heart auricle. It was immediate, and he never knew
what hit him. This con***ion can occur in humans as well as animals, and
there is no way to pre-screen for the presence of a fatal aneurysm.
The following is a poem I wrote on Monday evening, after receiving the
results of the necropsy. Prana's demise is shocking, and the pain is very
fresh. But, perhaps this poem will help somebody else who has suddenly
lost a cherished pet.
PRANA BIRD
Last night, I lost my very first bird
He departed Earth, without a word
Just twenty-three years, and in his prime
How I wish for just a little more time.
Time to share in life's simple pleasures
Sweet memories, I'll always treasure
Bonds of love, so strong and steady
Why did you leave? I was not ready.
Prana Bird, you lived up to your name
Jubilant, zany and semi-tame
Smart as a whip, bright as a penny
Your flawless speech astounded many.
Glossy blue feathers, a deep gold chest
A regal Macaw, you were the best
Prana means energy, from the Sun
You and the Universe, are now one.
-- Arlene Millman <chyron24 @ hotmail.com>
Chúng Ta Yêu Nhau Chỉ Mong Thế