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A STRANGE BREAKFAST
by Jaye Lewis
SPAM!
I can remember when it came in a can. My mother would slice it up,
fry it on each side, kind of gummy in the middle, and place it on my plate.
She called it breakfast. I called it, well -- YECH!
SPAM, that "not-quite-ham" with a congealed texture and a canned
flavor. I can still remember my stomach roiling, as it hit the roof of my
mouth.
It''s amazing how some things never change, because I''m still being
served SPAM for breakfast, and it''s still nauseating and difficult to
swallow. Over black coffee -- anything else wouldn''t be strong enough --
every morning, I''m delivered slice after slice of SPAM in my email inbox.
I have a SPAM killer. I could have used that back when I was twelve
and gagging at the kitchen table. Nothing can kill all the SPAM that I''m
served, and my SPAM killer often tries to kill my friends. I still have to
give the KILL box a cursory glance to rescue one or two messages.
I''ve discovered, in the last few years of writing on the Internet,
that I have lived a sheltered life. I''ve discovered that some unknown
someone can willingly fill a subject line with an unbelievable stream of
foul words, making me particularly thankful that I can block the image.
Some suggestions that I''ve never heard before make the blood run cold --
all because of SPAM.
I''m certain there are people out there who willingly click on one SPAM
email after another. However, how does one have stomach enough to open a
mystery link, from an unknown source? Isn''t that a little like pointing a
gun at your head, and pulling the trigger to find out if the gun is loaded?
So far, I have been invited to play in the sandbox with Wendy. Lulu
has promised that I can see more of her. That''s a real eye-opener at 7:30
in the morning. Natumi has promised to make me a millionaire, if I''ll just
send him my bank account number, and Jeffery continues to insist that I can
have anything enlarged, and for only $150! And these are but a few.
I will say that there has been some benefit to my morning''s serving of
SPAM. I have gotten closer to God. It began with a simple prayer and it
grew.
"Please God, don''t let this be a virus!"
"Please God, don''t let this crash my computer!" Then it grew into,
"Please God, protect me from those people."
Then I began to wonder about who is sending this stuff out? What kind
of mind dreams these things up? What kind of person deliberately executes
these files?
Somewhere along the line, I began to understand how much people, whom
I will never meet, need prayer. I began to understand that there is a
strange emptiness in the world today -- an emptiness that is not filled by
inspirational stories or friendship. I felt a strange kind of compassion
for those whose lives are so empty.
Soon my prayers became less about myself and more about them.
There are those who do not know that life can be beautiful -- that
each breath is a gift -- that there is so much one can receive in sharing
real emotions, lifting one another up in just a few sentences.
So, now, after all these years, I''m still being served SPAM. However,
I now have company at this strange breakfast.
It''s just God, me and SPAM -- in prayer for the people who send it
out, and for those who receive it.
-- Jaye Lewis <jlewis @ smyth.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

PET INSTRUCTIONS
Dear Dogs and Cats:
When I say to move, it means go someplace else -- not switch positions
with each other so there are still two of you in the way.
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The
other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw
print in the middle of my plate or food does not stake a claim for it
becoming your food and dish. Nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in
the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack.
Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn''t help,
because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry
about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure
your comfort. Look at videos of dogs and cats sleeping. They can actually
curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each
other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that
sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to
maximize space used is nothing but sarcasm.
My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If
by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not
necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the
edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I
entered. In ad***ion, I have been using bathrooms for years, canine
attendance is not mandatory.
The proper order is: 1) kiss me, and then 2) go smell the other dog''s
butt. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for
you.
-- Cheryl Graf <rev @ itol.com>
====
THE CAT ON THE HAT
See the arch of the fur
On the black cat''s back
As he sits on the brim
Of the black witch hat.
He has genes of a wild cat
Which fills him with pride;
He lets out a loud yowl
And his eyes grow wide.
Then, with one loud hisssssss,
He vaults to the ground,
Where he lands on his feet
And stalks ''round and ''round
His prey -- a young boy
With his bag full of treats.
Then, with one more loud yowl,
In the child''s bag he leaps.
Like the sound of a shot
Is the click of his nails,
As the child drops his bag
And, in fear, turns quite pale.
While the cat looks with pride
At the size of his kill,
And knows that there has
Been no lapse of his skill.
Now the cat in the bag
With his claws starts to shred
The wraps ''round the treats,
Then he pokes his black head
Up out of the bag,
Treats all stuck to his fur,
And with a smug smile
Drops back in with a purrrrrrr!
-- Linda E. Newman <GramLin99 @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

DEVINE FELINE INTERVENTION
by Ed Wilson
The day after Spot''s passing, I was walking Laura to her car and
noticed something black lying in the front yard.
It took a minute to realize that a car had apparently hit a bear --
not a big one, probably a year or two old, maybe 100 pounds.
As we cautiously approached for a better look it wobbled to its feet,
staggered across the yard to the edge of the field next door, and collapsed
near the drainage ***ch between our yard and the field.
We felt terrible. Laura said a little prayer to our recently departed
pet, "Spot, if you can do anything, please help this poor bear." We
discussed what to do. Laura wanted me to call our vet and ask about animal
rehabilitators so I headed for the phone.
After running out of other options, I called the State Police to see
if they had any ideas about who might help. They said they would call the
Department of Environmental Conservation and get back to me.
As I was about to shower, there was a knock on the door. I threw some
clothes on and went out to join the trooper on my step. The bear was still
there and quite motionless.
"Looks dead to me," said the young officer.
At this, the ears twitched and the bear''s head moved a little. With a
sigh the trooper said, "I''m afraid I''m going to have to put him down."
"Aren''t there any other options?" I asked.
"Not around here," he replied, "I don''t want to just leave him here to
suffer."
We''d feared that if we called the police this would happen. We
realized that sometimes this was necessary with a severely injured wild
animal, particularly one as potentially dangerous as a bear. But I didn''t
like it.
The officer drew his Glock 9 MM and started down the bank towards the
bear. He took one step, and dropped about 4 feet into a water filled
concrete box that the culvert under the road empties into. There was a
plywood lid on it but he hit it just right on one corner and it gave way
sending him up to his thighs in icy cold water.
The resulting crashing, splashing and cursing got the bear''s
attention. He scrambled to his feet with astonishing agility, for a
supposedly mortally injured animal, and took off across the yard. By the
time he crossed the road he was not limping but galloping!
I helped the sodden officer out of the water and asked if he was OK.
Struggling with embarrassment he examined his pants and muddy, water
filled weapon. Grinning sheepishly he said, "I think I''ll let him go. He
seemed to be moving pretty good there. Maybe he wasn''t all that banged up
after all."
I apologized for not pointing out the culvert box. He said he felt
pretty silly for not looking where he put his feet, and we both remarked on
the timeliness of the accident.
"If I hadn''t fallen in there and scared the bejeezus out of him, I''d
have shot that bear. I hate putting animals down but sometimes it''s the
only thing you can do."
I told him about needing to help Spot out of her suffering the day
before. He looked genuinely sorry for me.
"I have three cats at home and I don''t know what I''d do if I lost one
of them," he said. "They''re like my family."
"Well," I thought, "If a bear stumbled into your yard after being hurt
by a car, you''d probably pray for Divine Feline Intervention too -- just
like we did."
We shook hands and he started the car.
"Take care friend," he said as he drove away. I turned back towards
the house thinking about what he''d said -- how his falling in the water had
saved the bear.
"Thank you Spot," I thought as I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes.
"Thank you very much."
-- written by Ed Wilson
-- submitted by Charlene Wilson <willawhy @ stny.rr.com
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Scottie loved to help his grandma do "stuff." It always turned into a
real adventure because Grandma was known to disregard the instructions and
put things together her way. Things could become interesting, to say the
least. One day they decided to put together a bookcase for Grandma''s
office. Scottie had his favorite plastic tool set but like most
4-year-olds he was more in the way than a help. Grandma was having no luck
getting the bookcase together. After about a hour, Scottie, with all the
seriousness he could muster, asked, "Grandma, can we read the corrections
now?" -- Brenda Ice (mother of Scott) of North Augusta, South Carolina
Sam, 5, came home from kindergarten and told his mother that he had to
put his head down on his desk. When his mother asked him why, he said,
"Because I was talking, but I didn''t know I was talking because I was
whispering and I couldn''t hear myself!" -- Cindy Lockwood (grandmother of
Sam) of Bluffton, Indiana
Gordie, 2, went to his grandparents'' bedroom, where they were still in
bed. "Grandpa, do you always sleep with Grandma?" he asked. Of course
Grandpa answered, "Yes, I do." After giving that some thought, Gordie
said, "Well, move over and let another man in!" -- Arlie (aunt of Gordie)
of Victoria, B.C.
The following situation has made Lyne stop and think about how she
prays. One afternoon after picking up her grandson, Bailey, from school,
he began telling her about a fear that he had. He asked Lyne to pray that
God would keep him from being afraid any more. Lyne assured him that she
would pray for him but explained he could pray for himself, too. "I don''t
know how," he said. "Oh, sure you do," Lyne replied, "just pray like you
hear me and Papa pray." "Well," Bailey said, "do I say ''Father, I come
before you'' or ''Father, I come after you?'' I forgot." -- Lyne Hitt of
Statesboro, Georgia
Jill, 3, was trying to remember the name of the restaurant she wanted
to go to. She finally came up with Tigers Thinking. After a lot of
thought, her clever parents came up with the correct name -- Lion''s Choice.
-- Mary Garrett of St. Peters, Missouri
One of the favorite past times for the kindergarten girls, at Orlando
Junior Academy, is collecting acorns on the playground. One day, Michelle,
5, went into the classroom after recess to show her newest "treasure" to
her teacher. "Mrs. Hudak," said Michelle, "this is an eggcorn. You plant
it in the ground and it hatches and a baby oak tree pops out." -- Debbi
Armstrong of Orlando, Florida
Sami, 5, was taking a bath and her mother put con***ioner on her hair.
After a couple of minutes, Sami asked, "Can we wash off the air
con***ioning yet?" -- Christine Colombo (mother of Sami) of Syracuse, New
York
Tia, 11, was watching television with her mother when a commercial for
A1 steak sauce came on. After the commercial, Tia said, "You know, Mom,
for the longest time I thought the commercial was for Al (short for Albert)
steak sauce!" -- Tracy File (mother of Tia) of Fremont, Nebraska
One Monday morning, Peta was discussing news from the weekend with her
pre-school students. South Africa is plagued by a nasty crime element at
the moment and Peta often hears crime stories. Megan said very seriously,
"Peta, the secretary to God was not doing his job properly." Taken aback
and thinking that she hadn''t heard correctly, Peta asked, "Who wasn''t doing
their job properly?" Megan''s response was once again "the secretary to God
was not doing his job properly." Unsure as to what religious instruction
she was receiving at home, Peta cautiously asked, "Why do you say that
Megs?" She replied, "because the bad men came in and stole all the things
from the house." It took Peta quite a while to realize that she was
talking about the security guard in her complex! -- Peta-Ann Small of
South Africa
Lynnette had to take her two children to work with her one Saturday.
One of her fellow workers made swords and shields out of cardboard for the
kids, and they were running through the place having fun. Sean, 6, had
gotten a soda pop. Then he resumed play, leaving the open can in the lunch
room. A co-worker thought he''d play a trick on Sean and tease him to see
what would happen. So he asked, "Sean, is that your pop in the lunch room?
I was thirsty so I took a drink. I hope that is OK with you." Sean''s
quick response was, "I don''t care. I already spit in it!" -- Joyce
(grandmother of Sean) of Colorado Springs, Colorado
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

DINKY
by Stehvin Walker
When their grandmother came over that day, she asked the children to
come out front. She had something to show them.
The two boys waited and watched as their grandmother grabbed something
from the floorboard of her Datsun pickup. She carried it over to the grass
and gently placed it in front of the brothers.
He was a dusty, dirt encrusted ball of fur and bone.
A small black puppy with tan markings. He was full of wag and wiggle.
The younger boy smiled and muttered a few words about how cute the pup was
but the family had a dog and the younger boy was devoted to him.
The siblings'' parents stood behind the kids, not too thrilled with the
prospect of taking in another dog. The children''s grandmother had expected
this. But she also knew the older boy craved a dog of his own. She
explained that the pup had wandered into her yard a few days back and had
settled in on her back porch.
A cat person, herself, the older lady was afraid the little pup would,
in time, scare away the wild cats she fed. That, and her yard was not
securely fenced. The pup could wander away just as he had wandered in.
Her house was close to one of the busiest streets in town and the puppy''s
safety could not be ensured.
Her grandson bent down and talked quietly to the pup. He then reached
out and scooped the little guy into his arms and got a good look at the new
arrival.
"He''s covered in ticks and fleas!" The pup licked his face and
squirmed in his arms.
The boy spun around, facing his folks.
"Please, may we keep him? No one will want him like he is -- filthy
and covered with fleas."
His mother turned to her husband. The man studied his son. "If you
keep him you will be responsible for his care. I don''t want to end up
cleaning up after him. And you will have to see to it he is fed every
evening."
A name for the newest family member sprang to the boy''s lips. "Dinky
is hungry and dirty. I''m going to clean him up then feed him." Boy and
pup disappeared into the garage.
A slow smile inched across the grandmother''s face. Her
daughter-in-law smirked. The man huffed and shook his head.
"Come on inside, mom. We''re just about to have lunch. Join us." He
looped his arm around his mother''s. The youngest boy ran on into the
house. The three adults followed.
The boy pulled a wet arm across his sweaty face. The garage smelled
like wet dog and flea soap. In the washbasin, Dinky stared up at the boy,
his black eyes sparkling.
The boy cradled the small head between his hands. "You''re looking
better than you did when you got here."
He rinsed the pup off and inspected him. "I think we''ve gotten all
the bugs off you." He smiled down at Dinky. Dinky blinked then sprang up,
hooking his forepaws onto the lip of the sink. Craning his neck up, he
clearly wanted to get out of the sink.
"Oh, no you don''t." The boy clasped the puppy around his waist,
freeing his paws and held him up. Wet stumpy legs circled aimlessly on the
long, thin body. Tan eyebrows, feet, and chest marked the dog to have some
Dachshund in him.
The boy drew Dinky closer. "Are you hungry?"
Dinky panted and tried to lick the boy''s face. Puppy breath mixed
with the wet dog smell and the boy couldn''t remember smelling anything
better.
The boy grew to adolescence, as did Dinky. They shared their
troubling teen years together. Whenever he could, he snuck Dinky into his
bedroom at night. The boy had his pillow and Dinky had the other pillow.
They shared their dreams, their heartaches, their fears and joys --
their days and years together.
Dinky became a staunch protector and friend. He loved the boy as
deeply as any human can love another being -- even more so, since there is
nothing deeper than a dog''s love for a human.
-- Stehvin Walker <paavar @ wildmail.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Casey, 5, was taking a shower. His mom, Traci, asked him if he had
rinsed all the shampoo out of his hair. Casey replied, "I''m not sure. I
can''t see up there!" -- Traci Walker of Lebanon, Tennessee
When Traci and her younger sister Allison were little, their mom
overheard them singing a song they had learned in church. The lyrics went:
"The angels beckon me from Heaven''s open door." Traci and Allison were
singing: "The angels peck on me from Heaven''s open door!" -- as told by
their mother E***h of Lebanon, Tennessee
Bailey, 6, is quite the talker and loves to use new words as he learns
them. There''s just never a quiet moment when he''s around -- especially
when riding in the car. One day after his grandmother, Lyne, picked him up
from school, he was really quiet and Lyne could tell something was on his
mind. She put some music on that she knew he liked. No comments from
Bailey. Lyne turned the volume up ... nothing from Bailey. Finally, Lyne
made the music quite loud. Bailey turned with a scowl on his face and
said, "Mama, do you mind? You''re messing up my constipation!" -- Lyne
Hitt of Statesboro, Georgia
Sally took her grandson Ross, 4, to church and he wanted to sit in the
balcony. On their way up the stairs, the minister came flying down the
stairs, his robes billowing out. Ross asked, "Was that God?" -- Sally
Hershiser of Kent, Ohio
Two of Theresa''s foster children are a brother and a sister, ages 2
and 3. A couple of nights ago the 2-year-old started crying very hard for
no apparent reason. Since he had a cold, Theresa suspected that he had an
ear infection. But before driving him to a clinic, she decided to check
with his sister. "Did you hit your brother?" she asked the 3-year-old.
She hastily replied, "NO!" Then after some serious thought she added, "I
hit him yesterday..." -- Theresa Gibbs of Green Bay, Wisconsin
Bev asked her grandson Michael, 2, if he would like some graham
crackers to eat. He said, "Me don''t like them!" Bev tried to correct him
and said, "I don''t like them." He replied, "Yea, me don''t like them
either!" -- Bev Garber of Lima, Ohio
Debbi was with her children at a small fair and stopped by a table
offering a free drawing for a new boom box. As the girls were handed a
piece of paper to fill out their names and addresses, Anna had one question
for the man running the booth: "What do we have to draw?" She thought she
needed to draw a picture on the paper. -- Debbi Armstrong of Orlando,
Florida
Marlena''s father-in-law, who loved to fish, died from cancer when her
youngest son was 3. Brady understood death pretty well for a 3-year-old
because they had lost a few pets. One day as they passed by the cemetery,
Brady said, "I bet Grand-Dad is up in heaven catching dead fish!" --
Marlena Roye of Pampa, Texas
Alex, 9, and his mother were doing some yard work in the back yard.
Mom was cutting the branches and Alex was taking them down to the edge of
the street for the waste pickup. After one trip seemed to take Alex an
extraordinary amount of time, his mother called out his name. When he
hollered back, she asked him if he''d "gotten lost." She was trying to be
funny about his dawdling. He very seriously replied, "Mom, I''ve lived here
for eight years. Do you really think I could get lost just walking to the
front of the house?" -- Sandi (mother of Alex) of Florida
Jacquie''s little girl was feeling poorly. That night when her dad
came home, she went and sat on his knee, looking for some sympathy. Her
dad said, "You poor thing. Are you feeling sick and weak?" She said in a
sorry voice, "No, Daddy, just today!" -- Jacquie of Alabama
Megan, 4, went out to dinner with her family to a favorite seafood
restaurant. On the way to the restaurant, Megan''s family had discussed
ordering Hush Puppies, a specialty at the restaurant. When the waitress
got ready to take Megan''s order she replied, "I don''t want any of those
hush doggie things!" -- Laura Ellis of Elk Grove, California
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE TEA PARTY
by Clara Wersterfer
There once was a little girl who loved animals.
She had a gold fish, two tiny turtles in a bowl, a rabbit and three
dogs. Two of the dogs were small Terriers, and the other one was a big
black Chow dog.
The little girl had neither a brother nor sister with whom she could
play, therefore she spent a lot of time with her pets. She fed and brushed
them, ran and played with them, sometimes dressing her two little dogs in
doll''s clothing.
One day, Grandma came to stay with little girl while the mother and
father worked. The little girl became bored and asked, "Grandma what can I
play?"
Grandma thought for a moment before replying, "Why don''t you have a
tea party?" The little girl clapped her hands in delight. She loved tea
parties!
Grandma helped the little girl set up the table and arrange her tea
set. She filled the teapot with water, and the little girl made several
"finger sandwiches" from saltine crackers and peanut butter. Grandma
provided a plate of ginger snaps.
The girl gathered the dogs, put dresses on the two Terriers, and tried
to make them sit on chairs. She would seat them, and admonish them to
stay, but they would jump down. After about a zillion tries, and several
bites of crackers, the dogs became weary and finally sat on the chairs,
tongues hanging out, tails wagging, anticipating the treats.
The girl carefully poured water into four little cups and lifted the
plate of "sandwiches" to serve to the dogs when bad luck befell the happy
gathering.
Without even a meow, the neighbors big black cat sashayed thru the
hedge. Oops!
In unison, the two little Terriers jumped off the chairs, running
after the cat, barking and yipping, dresses flapping in the breeze. Mr.
Cat ran back into the hedges and jumped up on the fence, licking his paw,
out of reach of the nattily dressed small dogs.
Fortunately, Chow Dog was looking at the food on the table when the
cat made its appearance. He did not see the cat immediately, but when the
other dogs barked, he turned to see what was happening. Quick as a wink,
the girl threw her arms around his neck, gabbing his collar. She held on
tight, trying to keep the big dog from the cat chase. But Chow Dog
outweighed her by several pounds. The best the girl could do was hang on
to the collar for dear life.
The two Terriers, unable to get to the cat, turned their attention to
the new commotion and chased after Chow Dog and the girl.
Around the yard ran they ran. The little girl was holding on with
both hands now. Grandma, sitting on the porch shelling peas, jumped up,
knocked over the pan of peas, ran down the steps, brandishing the broom
while yelling, "STOP, STOP, STOP" at the dogs.
The dogs didn''t slow their pace and were barking louder than before.
Chow Dog circled the yard once more before he stopped at the edge of the
duck pond. The girl untangled her fingers, slid from the dog''s back and
rolled down the small knoll.
She tumbled into the duck pond with a big splash. Two large geese
were swimming and began honking, and the four resident ducks flew from the
pond, quacking loudly. Just then, the two Terriers arrived, still full of
excitement from chasing the poor cat and dog.
They began running back and forth, yelping at the sight of the girl in
the pond. Grandma was still calling out for the dogs to stop. Meanwhile,
Chow Dog had gone to the Tea Party area, knocked over the table, scattered
the tea set, and began scarffing down the peanut butter crackers and
cookies.
Grandma arrived to lift the little girl, wet and muddy, from the
shallow pond. She was not injured and put her arms around Grandma''s neck.
"Grandma, I''m glad you thought of a tea party. You have the very
bestest ideas" she said. "This was sooo much fun! I wasn''t a bit bored.
Can we please do it again tomorrow?"
Grandma''s eyes swept over the yard, and sighed, "Maybe some other day.
Right now, it looks like we''ve gone to the dogs."
-- Clara Wersterfer <CBWEST @ webtv.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

GOOD NEIGHBORS
by Lynn Lombard
"Hello," I said, after opening my front door to a stranger and a
little girl.
"Hi," the man said in a friendly voice as he proceeded to introduce
himself and his daughter. "I was looking at the land for sale next door
and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."
I immediately offered to answer anything I could. After all, my
husband and I had been waiting for someone to become our neighbor for more
than a year.
Living out in the country has been a wonderful experience for me.
Many times, I think back to how it was when I was little, and we lived in
the suburbs. Our neighbor''s house was less than 20 feet away from ours.
If my dad came home late at night, the curtains next door would
gradually open, and the next morning something would be said to my dad
like, "Late night yesterday?"
My dad hated every minute of other people knowing, or wanting to know,
his business. Nosy, he would call them. But as a kid, it never bothered
me because I didn''t know any other way of living.
In fact, I loved the older people on the other side of us. Mr. and
Mrs. B. were wonderful to us kids. I have many fond memories of my sister
and me eating breakfast with them before we walked to school.
I was entering the fourth grade when my parents decided to build a
house away from the only home I had ever known. It was a big change having
neighbors who were more than 150 feet away from us.
I no longer could walk to school, and the closest convenience store
was an inconvenient three miles away. But when my parents got home late,
no curtains were opened. No nosy busybodies. They had privacy at last.
I became accustomed to this way of living. That''s why, once my
husband and I began thinking about building our own house, the suburbs
never entered our minds. When we bought our property, just miles away from
where we both grew up, open fields surrounded us. The closest house was at
the corner, 1,000 feet away. At first I liked the prospect of having no
immediate neighbors. Like my father, I love my privacy. Many nights,
though, if I came home by myself in the dark and my husband wasn''t home, I
had visions of "Jason" hiding back in the woods that bordered my property,
hockey mask on, machete in hand.
I hated that there were no lights, and no "safe" place to run to
should there be an intruder in my home.
So I was thrilled when the friendly man came back a second time to let
us know that he had decided to buy the land.
Our neighbors finished building their house this summer, and it''s been
a few months since they moved in. It feels wonderful to be able to wave to
them as they drive by. I enjoy yelling "hello" when I get home from work
if they happen to be out in their yard. It''s especially nice to watch
their daughter and hear her laugh as she plays outside.
Just the other weekend, the belt broke on our lawnmower, and we
weren''t able to finish mowing the front grass. We returned home later that
night to find it mowed. Our neighbor had finished it up for us.
Whoever said fences make good neighbors didn''t have neighbors like ours.
-- Lynn Lombard <douglynn1 @ juno.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THANKS, FORGIVING DAY
by Bob Perks
"It''s happening already!" he said to me.
"What?"
"The last I looked it was July 4th and now suddenly it''s the holiday
season," he said smiling.
"I''m not ready for this at all," I told him.
"Oh, it may have come too fast, but I''m always ready for my ''Thanks
Forgiving Day!''"
"You mean Thanksgiving Day?"
"Oh, that too!"
"I''m confused!" I said.
"Well, Thanksgiving Day isn''t celebrated on the same day around the
world. I''m not even sure if some countries have such a day. So I
celebrate Thanksgiving Day with my family and friends in America. However,
the day before Thanksgiving, I celebrate ''Thanks, Forgiving Day'' with all
my international friends as well as those here at home."
"Do you travel that much?"
"Oh, no. I''ve never had that luxury. I met all of these wonderful
people on the Internet."
"I call them ''friends I''ve never met''," I said proudly. "I too, have
many from around the world."
"Well then you must celebrate it, too."
"Tell me about it."
"Well, on Thanksgiving Day I give thanks for all the blessings in my
life. Good health, love, friendship, work, the food I eat and everything I
value."
He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and sighed with great
satisfaction that his life is so blessed.
"But on ''Thanks Forgiving Day'', the Wednesday before, I make an effort
to ask for forgiveness for any wrongs I have done. Even the smallest
things that may have gone unchecked over the past year. You know, those
little things that may have hurt someone''s feelings and I didn''t realize
it. But also the big things which may have caused a hurt or lost
friendship. I simply ask everyone to forgive me and thank them for opening
their hearts to me again."
I stood there listening to this wonderful man. He was one of those
people whom you immediately trusted. His voice, his demeanor, were warm
and welcoming.
It was a wonderful thought. A gesture that gives hope to the world.
To think that in some small way we could undermine all of the hate and
anger in the world by humbly asking to be forgiven even when we have done
nothing wrong. The act itself is a reflection of the greatest love God has
for us.
"So will you join me?" he asked.
"I just did!"
To you, my friend, reading this message: When I awaken each morning
my heart sings a grateful tune to God for giving me still another chance to
make a difference in this world.
On this -- my Thanks, Forgiving Day -- I humbly ask for your
forgiveness if I have slighted you in any way during the past year. I
treasure your presence in my life and if you would forgive me, I would be
forever grateful. Thanks!
I invite you to join us on Wednesday, November 26th as we celebrate,
Thanks, Forgiving Day!
-- Bob Perks <Bob @ BobPerks.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

GIVING THE LAW "A HEART"
by Roger Dean Kiser
In 1988, I was working as an administrative advisor in California for
a county welfare rights organization and represented people whose welfare
benefits were threatened.
My client, an older gentleman, had been fired by the Salvation Army
for having a beer with his lunch. If the charge against him was upheld,
then he stood to lose his welfare because, in our state, indigent people
without children had to work part time in order to quality for benefits.
When the judge finally arrived, we entered the small side room which
had been set up for the hearing. We took our positions at the various
tables.
As the hearing began, the first person took the witness stand. I
could hardly believe the heartlessness of the woman who had fired this kind
faced old gentleman. She went on and on about how disgusting this man was
and how dangerous he was to himself and to everyone in the building who had
to work with him. She told the court that he was slow in getting up and
down the stairs and that he needed to be reminded, almost everyday, that it
was time for him to go home and that the work day was over.
Finally, I got my chance to question her. The first thing I asked
was if she had ever had a drink with her meal while on her lunch break.
She was very quiet and acted as though she did not want to answer the
question. Then she finally said, "I never drink beer."
"That is not what I asked you. I asked you if you had ever had a
drink while eating a meal," I said.
"Yes, I have a wine with my lunch almost everyday", she replied, in a
harsh tone."
"Then why is it wrong for this gentleman to have a beer with his
lunch?" I asked.
"Because people who drink beer are alcoholics," she told the court.
"Then that must make you a wine-o," I said.
Of course, the judge told me to tone down my comments and keep my
personal opinions to myself. At that point in the hearing the woman
started trying to change things around and told the court that the real
reason she fired the old man was not because he had a beer, but because the
old man was a danger to himself and to everyone working at their facility.
She said that the old man was psychotic and depressing and that he
could possibly hurt someone if allowed to stay on the job.
The judge called for a recess and we retired for a one hour lunch
break. I immediately drove over to the Salvation Army office and asked to
see the old man''s employment file, which the secretary denied me. I was
told that I would have to request that information from her supervisor, who
was presently appearing in court, and that she would not be back until
after court was over. I asked the secretary her personal opinion of the
old man and she told me that he was one of the most kind, sweet, and gentle
human beings that she had ever met.
I then asked her why the old man had been fired if he was so nice and
kind. She told me, off the record, that the old man had taken several old
stained mattresses from the dumpster and had given them to a woman and her
two small children because they could not afford to purchase new beds.
I could not understand why he would be fired for such a random act of
kindness. It was explained to me that the law prohibited mattresses to be
sold unless they had been sterilized. I understood what the woman was
telling me. However, the mattereses were given away, not sold.
This led me to believe that this was a matter of the Salvation Army
losing a sale. That could be the real reason behind this whole thing.
I told the secretary that the old man was going to be tossed out onto
the street if we did not win this case. She then got up from her desk and
walked over to a cabinet and took out a file. She put it on the desk and
said she would return in 10 minutes.
It was the old man''s file and I read it as quickly as I could, noting
that the gentleman had been working at the facility for about four years.
He was a hard worker and had been known to spending his own money on those
in need, even though he had very little.
Before leaving, I noticed something in this file which I removed and
stuck in my coat pocket.
The hearing resumed at 1pm and the woman once again took the stand,
and I began to question her.
"So what you are telling this court is that the real reason that you
fired this gentleman is not because he had a beer with his lunch but
because he is a danger to himself, his work place, and all who work there
with him. Is that correct?"
"That is correct," said the woman.
"What makes you think he is a danger at the work place?" I asked her.
"Because I have had to take pencils away from him for fear that he
might stab himself or somebody else on the job," she replied.
"Why would he want to do that?" I asked her.
"Because, as I said, he is a psychotic alcoholic and he cannot follow
directions. He is just an old man," she said.
I walked over to my coat, now hanging on the back of my chair, reached
into the pocket and took out a piece of paper and began to unfold it.
"So what you are saying is that you have dismissed this man because he
is old, drinks beer and will probably kill someone on the job one day. Is
that correct?" I asked her.
"Yes, that is why I fired him," she told the court.
I turned towards the judge and held up the front page of the Modesto
Bee newspaper. On the front page was a large picture. I turned the
newspaper toward the woman sitting on the stand and said, "Is this the man
that we are talking about?"
She just sat there not saying a word. Turning towards the judge, I
showed him the front page of the newspaper. The large picture showed this
same woman smiling from ear to ear while handing my client a large carving
knife and fork. They were both standing in front of a long line of about
two hundred people and were preparing to carve up fifty or so turkeys to
feed the poor and homeless on Thanksgiving Day.
I turned to the court and said, "Your honor I belive this vicious
killer has a partner in crime."
The judge looked directly at me, winked, smiled, and then said, "I
think I have seen enough." He dismissed the entire case.
I will never forget that case or that old man for as long as I live.
He sat there in that court room being talked about as though he was nothing
more than an animal -- smiling kindly at everyone the entire time.
Though I spent most of my young life in an orphanage, reform school,
jail and finally prison, I have always loved and respected the law. I just
wish things could have been different for me as a young man.
If I had the chance to go to college, I know that I could have grown
up to be the kind of lawyer that could have given the law "a heart."
-- Roger Dean Kiser <trampolineone @ webtv.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .