Tui xin một cái topic nhé....

ARRESTED
by Barbara O'Brien
Buffalo News Staff Reporter
April 9, 2003 -- Anita Depczynski of Cheektowaga, New York, who has
acknowledged bringing grain to the deer in Stiglmeier Park, is awaiting a
judge's decision on whether she is guilty of feeding the deer.
Depczynski did not take the stand during her one-hour trial in
Cheektowaga Town Court on Tuesday, and a State Department of Environmental
Conservation officer admitted he did not see her feeding the deer.
But Officer Ronald Bosela said he saw her throwing some oats on the
ground at the park Dec. 18.
"I asked her what she was doing and she said she was feeding the
deer," Bosela testified before Justice Ronald E. Kmiotek Sr.
Depczynski, 62, was on trial for violating a state ban on feeding
deer. The temporary regulation was enacted in the fall to try to prohibit
the introduction and possible spread of chronic wasting disease, said Jim
Snider, a senior wildlife biologist with the DEC.
Depczynski was offered an adjournment in contemplation of dismissal,
Prosecutor James M. Vallone said, but she did not take it. She indicated
to a friend that she was prepared to go to jail Tuesday if she was found
guilty.
Following the trial, Vallone said if she was convicted, he would seek
the stiffest fine available, not jail time. The violation is punishable by
a fine of up to $250 and up to 15 days in jail.
Visitors to Stiglemeier Park have fed the deer for years; many of the
animals eat from people's hands. Park regulars have named many of the
deer.
Chronic wasting disease is a fatal, transmissible neurological disease
found in deer and elk. It is not known how chronic wasting disease is
transmitted, but it is believed to be by direct deer-to-deer contact, or
indirectly through waste food, urine and feces that can build up at feeding
sites. Feeding deer concentrates them in one location, Snider said. No
cases have been found in New York.
He said he met Depczynski at a meeting in September sponsored by the
Depew/Cheektowaga Taxpayers that addressed the deer issue. Snider said he
discussed the new regulations against feeding white-tailed deer.
"Our point was we didn't want people arrested for this," he said.
Depczynski's lawyer, Timothy J. Flynn, noted that a DEC press release
issued in October stated that "practices that can help sustain deer during
winter months without posing a disease risk associated with the feeding of
wild deer will be exempt under the regulation."
Snider and Bosela said the exemptions included not bringing food into
the park like Depczynski is accused of doing.
Justice Kmiotek said he would issue his decision in a few weeks.
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

JOYFUL MEMORIES
by Karen Carroll
I grew up in the 60s in a family of 8 children. I was the 7th and the
youngest girl.
I remember the excitement of going out to buy a new Easter outfit, new
shoes and a hat. We were Catholic, and at that time, you needed to wear a
hat or veil in church, if you were a female.
Buying Easter outfits for 8 children was no easy task for my parents,
who often went without so that we could have something new. I didn't
realize, then, the sacrifices they made so that all our holidays were
special. But now I have 3 children of my own, and planning holiday
surprises is both fun and difficult.
One of the best memories of Easter, besides getting dressed up like a
movie star, was coming down on Easter morning to the baskets of candy that
lined the dining room buffet server.
There was a local candy store, in my hometown of Pennsauken, New
Jersey, that made specially ordered 1 pound coconut cream or hollow Easter
eggs that were filled with foil wrapped candies. These eggs looked huge to
a child and they were beautifully decorated with flowers and had our names
written on them. When you have 7 other siblings to always share with, it
is nice to have something that is just your own! My parents always let us
choose which kind we wanted, and mine was coconut with dark chocolate. To
this day it is not Easter without one.
So, Easter morning we would all wake up and rush down the stairs. If
everyone wasn't awake, we would patiently have to wait on the steps,
peaking through the railings looking for the hidden eggs until the others
awoke. When everyone was up, we would scramble to look for our treasures
which would include foil eggs, jelly beans and a beautifully dyed egg with
our name on it, which we would add to our basket with our special Chocolate
egg. After a quick breakfast, and one Easter treat, we hurried off to get
dressed for Church.
On one particular Easter, I can remember being gorgeously dressed in a
sailor suit with white patent leather shoes and a red straw hat. I looked
fabulous and I loved that new outfit. But more than anything, I was
excited to get back from church to the candy. At the age of 8, the
significance of Easter, in religious terms, was somewhat lost on me.
Sitting through a very long Mass was only made bearable by checking
out other people's attire, and petting the fur stoles of the older women
who sat in front of me. At one point, I got quite a shock when one of the
women felt my hands running through her mink. All of a sudden she turned
to see who was so ardently stroking her shoulders, when there, right in
front of my face, was the head of the creature still attached. I almost
died on the spot and talked about it the whole way home.
Arriving home that day, we were all excited about getting to our
candy. As we ran in, we saw the baskets in disarray and there on the floor
was our Irish Setter, Red, looking sheepish. It seems like she got a
little taste for chocolate herself and decided to help herself to my
sister's hollow egg.
My sister was devastated, but the dog was delighted, although she got
quite a scolding from my father. However, we did what we always did in our
one big family -- we pooled our stuff together into one huge pile and
shared.
It is those memories of the holidays that bring me the greatest joy.
-- Karen Carroll <mndlvme @ msn.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

Hey, gio_mua_dong, thanks for the story. Truly, what seems normal to adults can bring greatest joy to children. I still remember when I was little, every Chirstmas night, I couldn't sleep knowing that the next morning, there would be a gift wating for me from Santa Claus (Later, I learned that my parents are Santa Clauses ) . I couldn't wait till morning to check out my gifts. They were usually very small things such as colorful pencils, or picture books, but, they brought me innocent and unforgettable happiness...........

FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
When Karen's two oldest granddaughters were young, they would come to
Grandma's house to color Easter Eggs for the Easter Bunny to hide in the
night. If it was nice outside, the adults would find their eggs and their
own Easter Baskets, too. One year Karen noticed that one of her
granddaughters had egg dye all over her face. When they asked her how she
got dye on her face, the little girl said said, "I kissed all my eggs!" --
Karen Clark of Princeton, Illinois
Faith's grandmother will only buy organic, cage-free eggs. Gramma is
visiting, and she took Faith grocery shopping. When she put the eggs in
the cart, Faith looked at them and commented, "Gramma, they're not ripe
yet. See, they're still brown." -- Debbi Armstrong (mother of Faith) of
Orlando, Florida
Clarissa loves candy and is always begging for it. One day while they
were in the check out line, Clarissa was begging for candy, as usual. The
clerk asked her if she wanted all her teeth to rot out. Clarissa, 3,
sweetly told the clerk, "They make fake ones now you know!" -- Virginia
(mother of Clarissa) of North Dakota
A woman JP knew as a child made her granddaughter a new dress for
Easter Sunday. She had to hem it at the last minute. The little girl put
on her new dress and as they were sitting in church, the little girl felt
something in the hem and announced to the whole congregation, "Grandma,
there is a thimble in my new dress!" -- JP Hux of North Carolina
Steph was discussing different singing styles with her sister, Carrie.
When the subject of a singer who had made a recent television appearance
came up, Steph said, "She was REALLY good! She was singing Acapulco (a
capella)!" -- Deana (mother of Steph and Carrie) of San Antonio, Texas
While listening to the Oldies radio station, Kimmy Ferguson, 7, and
her younger brother Gavin Herron, 3, heard the song "Green Tambourine."
Gavin tried to sing along but could not pronounce the word tambourine.
Kimmy, frustrated by her brother's attempts, yelled out the correct
pronunciation. "Kimmy, he doesn't understand what that word means," her
mother interrupted. "Gavin, a tambourine is an orange(tangerine)," Kimmy
replied knowingly. -- Michelle Herron of Kendallville, Indiana
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

EASTER FAITHFULNESS
by James (PoppyK) Kisner
We lived out in the country fifty miles from a big town,
We had a little church for all of us who lived around.
The minister was part time and came every other week,
So when he came we all would go to hear the preacher speak.
Once a year on Easter we would drive to the big town,
That was the only place a sunrise service could be found.
So once a year on Easter to a church in town we'd go,
My kids would make a fuss, but my sweet mother loved it so.
She lived with us, my wife and I, two daughters and a son,
And everybody loved ole Na Na; She was so much fun.
She had a personality that was controlled by love,
She always said she got it from the angels up above.
So every Easter morning we would all dress in our best,
And go *****nrise service that would start before the rest.
Once a year that preacher knew that we would all be there,
Because that was the only sunrise service anywhere.
He knew my mother loved the sunrise service that was here,
And he knew all of us by name and we went once a year.
He loved ole Na Na and he knew that she would never miss,
His sunrise service Easter morning, he had told her this.
He knew we had a country church and minister part time,
He knew that we could not join his and he said that was fine.
He said he thought he knew our preacher, "Godly man," he said,
"I know he likes to travel that's the calling he's been led."
When mother died in early March our part time preacher came,
Out to our little country church where we put her remains.
Our little church was crowded, Na Na's friends for miles around,
But we forgot to tell the preacher that was in the town.
Easter morning came that year, but we were not up to,
Going to the sunrise service like we always do.
As we ate breakfast feeling guilty that we did not go,
We decided we should go and let that preacher know.
They had a later service and it started at eleven,
We really should go tell the preacher Na Na's now in Heaven.
So we got dressed and off we went, much later than before,
When we arrived we saw the preacher standing by the door.
He smiled at us and shook our hands as he began to speak,
And as he spoke the words he said just made my knees get weak.
He said I knew something was wrong you all were not together,
The sunrise was so beautiful we had such perfect weather.
But you have made this service that is why we have another,
And then I started telling him what happened to my mother.
A puzzled look came on his face when I said Mom had died,
A look that someone gives you when they think that you have lied.
We just stood in silence as my heart began to vex,
And to this day I'm still in shock of what he told me next.
It's something that you don't expect; it comes without a warning,
He looked at me and said, "I saw your mother here this morning."
-- James A. Kisner <PoppyK1 @ aol.com>
​

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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

AN EASTER MIRACLE
by Melanie Craven
It was a dream come true for my friend, Cathy Smith.
It was something she had waited for all her life -- an opportunity to
take one of her dogs to the acclaimed Westminster Dog Show.
Cathy and her friend, Betty, left Lubbock, Texas, on February 4, for
the 2200 mile journey to New York City in her brand new Honda Van. Cathy
would show her beloved, Gavin, an Irish Wolf Hound.
Several days later, Gavin was in the ring acting as if he were a
professional. Although Cathy has two other dogs, both Pembroke Welsh
Corgis, Gavin is very special to her. She knew from the first time she saw
him as a puppy that he would earn a special place in her heart.
Gavin did not win at Westminster, but he showed very well and truly
impressed the crowd.
On the way back, they stopped in Oxford, Alabama. On Valentine's Day
morning, they went to check out of the hotel. Along with Gavin they were
returning home with a pregnant Chow. When Cathy returned to her van, the
back was open, and the two dogs were gone. She retrieved the Chow, but
Gavin was nowhere to be found. The man in the room next door to them had
scared him away because Gavin frightened the man's wife.
Cathy's dream was turning into a nightmare.
Cathy contacted the police, radio stations and the Anniston Star
newspaper. The paper ran a feature story about the missing dog. The
announcement began to cross the airwaves. People in the Oxford area were
searching for the 165-pound giant. Since Cathy was responsible for getting
her friend and the Chow back home, she reluctantly drove away.
The folks in the Oxford area responded with genuine concern. Cathy
returned on three occasions to help in the search. People spotted him in
many different areas, but by the time Cathy would get there he would be
gone. Her resources were almost exhausted. She had hired a tracker from
Atlanta, but to no avail. She ran television ads. The announcement was
posted at www.iwclubofamerica.org.
Chirlee Brown, a person Cathy had never met previously, was
relentless. She was not going to give up. Others gave many hours of their
time to the search. People put out food for Gavin. It is amazing what
perfect strangers have done.
The good news is that Gavin was found!
Chirlee contacted a co-worker who agreed to build a large and humane
trap from wire and wood. On Thursday, April 17th, at 8pm, Chirlee and
others took the trap to a barn where Gavin had been seen. Cathy had
purchased a deer cam and Gavin had been captured on film there. They had
been placing food in the barn for him. Cathy asked them to put some Mighty
Dog outside the trap and a rotisserie chicken inside the trap.
At 9:30pm they came back, and Gavin was inside the trap.
They rushed Gavin to the veterinarian, who said that he was in amazing
shape considering what he had experienced for the past 63 days.
He was a mere 82 pounds. He was covered in deer ticks, so the vet
treated him. His blood tests were good. He has been released to go home
for some much needed TLC.
We are rejoicing on this Good Friday. God blessed us by keeping Gavin
alive. Gavin will no longer be a show dog. He has been retired to sit on
the couch with his mom at home and do whatever he wants to do.
-- Melanie Craven <Melanie.Craven @ ttuhsc.edu>
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

K-MART CONNECTION
by Beth Fryer
It was Easter Sunday, so very few people were browsing in the local
K-Mart where I stopped to make a quick purchase.
As I entered through the side door, the place was so empty I asked if
they were ready to close.
When I entered the quiet main shopping area, I heard the familiar
start to Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA." I like this song. I like it
a lot. And I've been worried lately. And scared. And nervous and
confused. And even though I've been feeling we need the blessings, I guess
I've been... well, I guess I've been less openly patriotic than is the norm
at the moment.
I suppose in trying to avoid thinking about my fears, I've also
avoided thinking about some of those good things as well. The good things
we've always had here -- the strength and amazing grace with which we faced
tragedy in 2001, as well as the hopes and prayers we have now for our loved
ones and those we long to help.
So I was happy to hear the song begin. It felt like something I needed.
I turned into the next aisle, face to face with a young woman who was
singing along as she pushed the cart that held her young son.
A few yards further down the aisle, a middle-aged woman -- about MY
age -- was singing too.
I turned into another aisle, wondering what to expect as I passed a
third person, and sure enough, she too was singing every word.
I began to be very touched by what that song was doing to so many
K-Mart shoppers. And then I approached a young girl, probably about 13
years old. She was looking totally cool, and I pretty much figured that
was the end of the roll I was on, as I counted those who were caught up in
the music. A slightly older girl was with her, just behind her, and though
the younger girl passed silently, the older one was singing more loudly
than any of the older vocalists I'd passed.
By then I was getting choked up and the chills, that I usually feel in
hearing the song, were at least doubled.
Then the younger girl smiled at me and said, "Hi! How are you doing?"
And the older one, "I just love this song. They sang it on American Idol."
We were three generations -- teenagers, moms, and grandmas -- Anglo
and Hispanic, strolling through K-Mart on an Easter evening, suddenly
brought together, all moved by the song.
All feeling the connection, the sentiment. Knowing what we lost
almost two years ago, but still experiencing what we salvaged from the
tragedy.
We're proud to be Americans. God bless the USA!
-- Beth Fryer <bfryer @ nbn.net>
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

A WORTHWHILE EXPERIENCE
by Brenda McGuire
My first four-legged friend was a six-week old Miniature Schnauzer
that fit in my coat pocket.
Baron Wolfgang VonKuhens -- Bear for short -- was a wonderful
companion. Bear was very serious about his job as my caretaker and always
watched over me. Three years later, his son, Alex, came into our lives.
The three of us were a family for the next 13 years until Bear had a
stroke and went to the Rainbow Bridge.
The three of us struggled through a lot of emotional trauma --
including divorce and losing my job. However, my little boys were always
there to snuggle with me and ease the pain. Bear and I shared a wonderful
bond and the decision to have him put down after his stroke was a difficult
one. Alex and I carried on after Bear's death. It was almost like Alex
knew and understood that it was now his job to take care of me.
When I learned that Alex had cancer, I was devastated. Suddenly I
was faced with making that dreaded decision again. How could I live
without this silly little guy who had become my best friend? It was hard
enough to lose Bear, but now I was going to lose Alex as well.
Furthermore, his passing would mean my two best friends were gone and I
would be alone.
Still, I was not comfortable with the idea of getting another dog.
What would Alex and Bear think? How could I ever love another dog as much
as I loved those two little guys?
As the shock of the cancer diagnosis began to wear off, I realized
that Alex and Bear would not want me to be alone, so I began to think about
getting another Schnauzer. I inquired about Schnauzer puppies but soon
realized that it would not be fair to Alex to bring a puppy home while he
was sick.
So, I began to explore the possibility of adopting an adult Schnauzer
from a rescue organization.
Luckily, I found the Schnauzer Friends for Rescue and Adoption (SFRA)
in Cincinnati, Ohio. I went to the SFRA website daily to look at their
list of available dogs. Then one day I saw them -- three year old brothers
who had been surrendered by a military family who was going overseas. The
rescue wanted to try to place them together since they had grown up in the
same family.
The minute I saw them, I knew they were meant to be part of our family!
After the application and home visit process, we finally got to meet
Jax and Koda! It was love at first sight for me and they came home with us
that day. Fortunately, they got to spend some quality time with their big
brother, Alex, before he went to the Rainbow Bridge. I think Alex must
have told them all about life in our home because they settled in
immediately.
Going through a rescue organization and adopting animals who no longer
have homes is a worthwhile experience!
Jax and Koda are amazing and have so much love to give. I often look
at them and wonder what they must think -- going from their original family
to a strange place (the rescue home) and then another strange place (our
home).
Do they understand that their original family loved them very much to
do what they did? I am so glad that their original family was caring and
responsible and took the time to find SFRA.
Alex has been gone for 5 months now and I still miss him terribly.
But, I know that he's watching us and is happy that I have two new friends
to keep me company until we all meet at the Rainbow Bridge.
-- Brenda McGuire <bmcguir @ columbus.rr.com>
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

REMARKABLE FRANKLIN
By Kris Steiner
Found lying on the side of the road in the snow, it was amazing that
this little dog was alive.
The car that hit him apparently did not care enough to stop and take
care of him. However, when a college student saw him, she picked him up
and called Because You Care, Inc. (BYC), the local animal rescue
organization that I volunteer for.
When I received the call, the description I got of the Beagle's
injuries convinced me that he needed to be euthanized. Sadly, I agreed to
authorize payment of the vet bill and sent the woman and the dog to a local
veterinarian.
Less than an hour later, I received a call from the vet telling me
that both of the Beagle's back legs were broken, as well as his pelvis.
What hope would there be for a dog with injuries like that?
But the vet surprised me by telling me that he would like to get
X-rays to see if the breaks could be fixed. I agreed to the X-rays and got
a call later telling me that the vet was certain he could fix this dog.
The catch -- it would cost over $1000.
How could our small non-profit organization spare that much of our
hard-earned donations on one animal? I turned that question over to the
other BYC members. The overwhelming response: How can you place a price
on a life?
Nearly everyone I spoke to agreed that as long as this dog could have
a good quality of life after rehabilitation, his life should be spared.
The vet called me immediately after surgery to tell me how well the
Beagle, now dubbed Franklin, had fared.
The following day, Franklin was sitting up -- something he had not
been able to do before surgery. He was ready to go to his foster home to
begin recuperation.
Judy, one of our volunteers, had agreed to foster him during this
critical care stage since she has experience in this area. We were
optimistic that Franklin would be able to stand on his own one month after
the surgery and that he would be walking and starting to run another month
later.
Now it was time to pay for the surgery. We decided to take it to the
community. The story was aired on several local newscasts and articles
were written in two local newspapers. Soon, nearly everybody knew the
story of this remarkable little Beagle and his strong will to live.
Not knowing what kind of response we would get, we were amazed when
the donations started rolling in. Our little non-profit group created the
Franklin Fund and the community was generous. We were soon able to pay the
$1400 vet bill with money left over! (The fund will remain in place for
future badly injured animals, and we now know that we won't have to face
the difficult decision of euthanizing an animal because of lack of funds.)
Interestingly, some local middle school students heard about
Franklin's story and decided to donate their lunch money for a day, saying,
"We can live without lunch for one day but Franklin cannot live without
surgery."
-- Kris Steiner <hors-n-around @ surferie.net>
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

STICKS
by Al Batt
It is an annual tra***ion.
We go to an aunt's farm and pick up sticks and rake her yard.
To be happy, a man needs something to do, something to love and
something to hope for. Picking up sticks fills the bill.
The cottonwood, box elder, oak and walnut trees drop a lot of sticks
over a year's time. Windstorms cause the lawn to be covered with sticks of
various sizes. It is hard and repetitive work -- bending and grabbing. It
is a lesson for life -- you have to be down in order to get up.
I stopped by the rhubarb plants. While they are still too small to
harvest, I drooled over the thoughts of future culinary delights.
I worked around the lilacs and could almost smell the flowers that
would be arriving in May.
I walked the yard, picking up sticks while I listening to the songs of
the birds. I carried the sticks to the three separate brush piles spaced
strategically, to save as many steps as possible. I tossed the sticks onto
the ever-growing piles. Occasionally, I would pause and watch the birds in
the trees.
The trees are survivors. They bend during storms. We could learn a
lot from them. When life's winds blow, we need to bend in order to keep
from breaking. The winds endeavor to take the trees a stick at a time, but
the trees usually endure. The trees are like families; the sticks like
individuals. We pick up the sticks and go on. We make do.
My family turned one of the brush piles into a fire for roasting hot
dogs and marshmallows. It was fun for the family to be able to get
together during a time when such gatherings are difficult to schedule. We
talked about family things. Such discussions are my family's way of
picking up sticks.
We talked about those loved ones who have gone on before us. I
thought of my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who have passed away.
They were the branches in my family. I think of them often -- sometimes
with sadness.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the children of the
family playing baseball. Sounds that let me know that life goes on.
Happiness is more often remembered than experienced.
That's why I pick up sticks.
-- Al Batt <SnoEowl @ aol.com>

MIRACLE PROOF
by Nancy Eckerson
Unfolding in the dusk of day,
The later part of light;
A brilliant little flower
Bursts forth in neon-bright.
The color is a yellow-gold,
And seen from miles away.
For God knew those who bloom at night,
Must be special in display.
You see, at times I'm full of doubt,
And nothing comforts me,
Until I am so truly blessed,
With primrose memory.
For in the recollection of
This blooming sunset show;
There is a certain confidence,
That God exists, I know.
For no one that I've ever met,
Or read about in books,
Could ever hope to conjure up,
The miracle that took.
To have a bloom that is designed,
To open in so short a time;
Allowing us a front row view,
Of all that brilliance is divine.
Just who could have invented -
Who's mind could be so fine?
To use a store of sunlight,
In the darkest of all times?
To burst forth from a slender bud,
And glimmer, shake and bloom,
While all around are napping,
By starlight and the moon?
And when the new day slowly comes,
With its first few pinkish rays,
The miracle evening primrose,
Gives up glory and just fades.
And all that we are left with,
Are the faded memories,
Of moments of sheer brilliance,
Only genius could conceive.
-- Nancy Eckerson <nancyq2 @ net.bluemoon.net>
​

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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .