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WITandWISDOM(tm) - May 14, 1998
I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do, or any kindness that I can show a fellow being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. - Stephen Grettlet
(Shared by Bud Trulson)
Little Chad was a shy, quiet young man. One day he came home and told his mother that he'd like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, "I wish he wouldn't do that!" because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other. But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made 35 valentines.
Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement. He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mother decided to bake him his favorite cookies and serve them nice and warm with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed and maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines - maybe none at all.
That afternoon she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, there they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened she choked back the tears.
"Mommy has some cookies and milk for you," she said. But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was: "Not a one. Not a one." Her heart sank. And then he added, "I didn't forget a one, not a single one!"
By Dale Galloway from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul, Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
(Chicken Soup for the Soul: Free Home Delivery http://www.soupserver.com/)
THIS & THAT:
One of the most delightful story teller and leg-pullers I've ever known was a blue-eyed, white-haired Irishman named Larry Doolin. One day, before I knew Larry well enough to distrust his every word, we had occasion to make an automobile trip together.
"You know," said Larry, as we passed a mobile home being towed by a truck, "those are very economical housing. So are prefabricated houses. Some friends of mine built a prefabricated house once. Everything was so perfectly planned that when they finished they had exactly one brick left over.
"The funny thing is that it worried them. They wondered if they had made a mistake somewhere. What would you do," he asked, "if you had exactly one brick left over?"
"I don't know," I replied, " - probably throw it away."
Larry let the matter drop and went on to other topics. About an hour later we got on the subject of smoking, "I was riding on a bus in Pennsylvania one time," he said, "and the fellow in the seat ahead of me was smoking a big black cigar. The lady across the aisle, who had a dog on her lap, was deeply annoyed. She asked him if he would please put out the cigar - that smoking wasn't permitted on the bus. "The fellow told her that dogs weren't permitted on the bus, either, and went right on smoking his cigar. The woman was furious. She jumped up, snatched the cigar from his mouth, and threw it out the window. Immediately - so fast I could hardly believe it - the man grabbed the lady's dog and tossed it out the same window. The lady screamed, then fainted dead away.
"Fortunately we made a rest stop a minute later. By the time I got off the bus, there came the lady's dog running up to us, not hurt a bit. And what do you suppose the dog had in his mouth?"
"Oh, no, Larry," I groaned in disbelief, "don't tell me it was the cigar!"
"No," said Larry, smiling. "It wasn't the cigar. It was that leftover brick from the prefabricated house!" - John L. Beckley
(Bits & Pieces, December 13, 1990, http://www.epinc.com/)
The years of peak mental activity are undoubtedly between the ages of four and eighteen. At four we know all the questions, at eighteen all the answers. - Author Unknown
I don't know why we are in such a hurry to get up when we fall down. You might think we would lie there and rest awhile. - Max Eastman
(Shared by Keith's Mostly Clean Humor & Weird List KSullivan@worldnet.att.net)
Western Michigan U. students have found a really effective way to reach out to fellow students. Small groups go door-to-door in their hall, asking for prayer requests from residents. They pray for their hall mates as a small group, and then follow up on the requests two weeks later. - http://www.gospelcom.net/iv/slj/ss97/ss97_cn_door_to_door.html