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Words that moved us...
THE DESCRIPTION OF A MARINEAuthor unknown by the webmaster
Marines come in all sizes and shapes, weights, and states of sobriety, misery, and confusion. He is as sly as a fox, has the nerve of a dope addict, the stories of an old sailor, sincerity of the Pope, and the subtlety of Mt. St. Helens. He is extremely irresistable, totally irrational, and completely indestructable.
A Marine is a Marine all his life. He is a magical creature. You can kick him out of your house, but not out of your heart. You can take him off you mailing list, but not off your mind.
Marines are found everywhere, in love, in battle, in heat, and in trouble. They can be in debt, in bars, and even behind them. No one can write so seldom yet think so much of you. No one can get so much enjoyment out of a letter, clean clothes, or a six pack of ????.
A Marine is a genius with a woman, a millionaire without a cent, and brave without a grain of sense. He is the protector of America, with the latest issue of playboy in his back pocket. When he wants something, its usually thirty days leave, music that hurts the ears, a five dollar bill, and a fine lady (but not always in that order).
Girls love them, mothers tolerate them, fathers brag about them, the government pays them, the police watch out for them, yet somehow they all work together. You can beat their bodies but not their minds, you can tame their hearts but not their souls.
He likes girls, women, females, ladies, and members of the opposite sex. He dislikes small checks, working weekends, answering letters, eating chow, waking up early, maintaining a uniform, cutting his hair, getting his heart broken, and the day before payday.
You may as well give in, he is your long distance lover you want to spend the rest of your life with. He is your steeled eyed, soft hearted, warm, smiling, blank minded, hyperactive, over reacting, curious, passive, talented, spontaneous, physically fit, good looking, good for nothing bundle of worry.
He shatters your dreams and fantasies when he drunkenly crawls into bed with you at 3 o'clock in the morning, kisses you for five minutes, tells you how much he loves you, smokes a cigarette, checks the clock, and falls asleep with his head on your breast, his hand between your legs, and his mind on both.
THE CHILD OR THE CAKE? Author unknown by the webmaster
Cindy glanced nervously at the clock on the kitchen wall. Five minutes before midnight. "They should be home any time now," she thought as she put the finishing touches on the chocolate cake she was frosting. It was the first time in her12 years she had tried to make a cake from scratch, and to be honest, it wasn't exactly an aesthetic triumph. The cake was . . .well, lumpy. And the frosting was bitter, as if she had run out of sugar or something. Which, of course, she had.
And then there was the way the kitchen looked. Imagine a huge blender filled with all the fixings for chocolate cake -- including the requisite bowls, pans and utensils. Now imagine that the blender is turned on. High speed. With the lid off. Do you get the idea?
But Cindy wasn't thinking about the mess. She had created something, a veritable phoenix of flour and sugar rising out of the kitchen clutter. She was anxious for her parents to return home from their date so she could present her anniversary gift to them. She turned off the kitchen lights and waited excitedly in the darkness. When at last she saw the flash of the car headlights, she positioned herself in the kitchen doorway.
By the time she heard the key sliding into the front door, she was THIS CLOSE to exploding. Her parents tried to slip in quietly, but Cindy would have none of that. She flipped on the lights dramatically and trumpeted: "Ta-daaa!"
She gestured grandly toward the kitchen table, where a slightly off-balance two-layer chocolate cake awaited their inspection. But her mother's eyes never made it all the way to the table. "Just look at this mess!" she moaned. "How many times have I talked to you about cleaning up after yourself?"
"But Mom, I was only..." "I should make you clean this up right now, but I'm too tired to stay up with you to make sure you get it done right," her mother said. "So you'll do it first thing in the morning." "Honey," Cindy's father interjected gently, "take a look at the table."
"I know -- it's a mess," his wife said coldly. "The whole kitchen is a disaster. I can't stand to look at it." She stormed up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. For a few moments Cindy and her father stood silently, neither one knowing what to say. At last she looked up at him, her eyes moist and red.
"She never saw the cake," she said. Unfortunately, Cindy's mother isn't the only parent who suffers from Situational Timbercular Glaucoma – the occasional inability to see the forest for the trees. From time to time we all allow ourselves to be blinded to issues of long-term significance by Stuff That Seems Awfully Important Right Now -- but isn't.
Muddy shoes, lost lunch money and messy kitchens are troublesome, and they deserve their place among life's frustrations. But what's a little mud -- even on new carpet -- compared to a child's self- esteem? Is a lost dollar more valuable than a youngster's emerging dignity? And while kitchen sanitation is important, is it worth the sacrifice of tender feelings and relationships?
I'm not saying that our children don't need to learn responsibility, or to occasionally suffer the painful consequences of their own bad choices. Those lessons are vital, and need to be carefully taught. But as parents, we must never forget that we're not just teaching lessons --we're teaching children. That means there are times when we really need to see the mess in the kitchen. And times when we only need to see the cake.
UNTITLED
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are travelling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls. But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restless we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering-----waiting, waiting, waiting for the station. "When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. "When I turn 18!" "When I graduate!" "When I get a promotion!" "When I buy my dream car!" "When I have paid off the mortgage!" "When I can retire, I shall live happily ever after!" Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly out-distances us. "Relish the moment" "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." It isn't the burdens of today that drives men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who will rob us of today. So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.
(Contributed by Rob Peters, Porter Memorial Hospital)
SIX GREAT LESSONS: THE IMPORTANT THINGS LIFE TEACHES YOUAuthor unknown by the webmaster
(1) Most Important Question
During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'Hello'." I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
(2) Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her - generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his address, thanked him and drove away. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others." Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole
(3) Always remember those who serve
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.
(4) The Obstacle in Our Path
In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying In the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many others never understand. Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one's condition.
(5) Giving Blood
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies, needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liz." As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?" Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood.
(6) I've Two Choices
Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee Was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood." I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life." "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes it is," Jerry said, "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business, he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he said, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices - I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I Chose to live. "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man. " I knew I needed to take action." "What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead." Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.
