The Little Boy and the Old Man




            
           Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
           Said the little old man, "I do that too."
           The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
           "I do that too," laughed the old man.
           Said the little boy, "I often cry."
           The old man nodded. "So do I."
           "But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
           Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
           And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
           "I know what you mean," said the little old man.
           
                   By Shel Silverstein
                 Submitted by Ruth Wiele
          from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
               Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield 
                   and Mark Victor Hansen 
	



If I Had My Life to Live Over



           
         I'd dare to make more mistakes next time.
         I'd relax. I would limber up.
         I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
         I would take fewer things seriously.
         I would take more chances.
         I would take more trips.
         I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.
         I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
         
         I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I'd 
         have fewer imaginary ones.
          
         You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly 
         and sanely hour after hour, day after day.
          
         Oh, I've had my moments and if I had it to do over 
         again, I'd have more of them. In fact, 
         I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments.
          
         One after another, instead of living so many 
         years ahead of each day.
          
         I've been one of those people who never go anywhere 
         without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat
         and a parachute.
          
         If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot 
         earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
          
         If I had it to do again, I would travel lighter next time.
         I would go to more dances.
         I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
         I would pick more daisies.
          
                     By Nadine Stair (age 85)
               from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul 
                Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark 
                   Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen 



Timely Departure
 


   
      To look at him you would think he was a pauper. When you got to 
 know him he was really a prince. Everyday he would walk, actually 
 shuffle, his way down to the stockbroker's office to visit his friends 
 and watch his investments. Every afternoon at about two o'clock, Billy 
 could walk through the door and bring a smile to our faces. His cap 
 was always on crooked, and he always wore his worn and torn overcoat 
 regardless of the temperature, with a scarf in the winter and a 
 buttoned-up shirt in the summer, and always a smile (crooked teeth 
 and all).
      He was our unofficial leader, our spokesperson. If Billy said it 
 was so, then it was so! We were a handful of guys getting together 
 everyday to watch the stock ticker and wait for Billy's daily words 
 of wisdom. With his cockney accent and his reassuring wink, he seemed 
 to make everything seem okay no matter how the market was doing or how 
 gloomy things seemed in the real world. Then, one day, everything 
 wasn't all right. Our Billy, our 80-year-old pal, our leader, had cancer!
      It didn't seem to matter anymore that his investments would go 
 unwatched. What was important was that we watched Billy. He was going 
 fast. The only family he had was an older sister in England so we 
 became his family. A few of us took turns sitting with him in the 
 hospital. Garry, who was Billy's friend and financial advisor, took the 
 lead watch. Garry was there almost all the time. We didn't want Billy 
 to be alone.
      One evening, we knew the end was near. I offered to spend the night 
 and sit with Garry and Billy, but Garry said to go home and that I could 
 relieve him in the morning.
      About 5:00 a.m. my wife and I were awakened by a loud knock on our 
 front door. I got up to see who it was, and no one was there. At 9:00
 a.m. 
 Garry called to say that Billy had passed away during the night. "What 
 time did he say good-bye?" I asked.
      "5:00 a.m.," was his shocking reply. The only explanation we had 
 for the knock on our door at 5:00 a.m. was that Billy had "winked" 
 good-bye for one last time!
   
                      By Barry Spilchuk
              from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
            Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor 
                    Hansen & Barry Spilchuk 
   
  



Two Things Not to Worry About


        
     In my life, I have found there are two things about which I 
should never worry. First, I shouldn't worry about the things I 
can't change. If I can't change them, worry is certainly most 
foolish and useless. Second, I shouldn't worry about the things 
I can change. If I can change them, then taking action will 
accomplish far more than wasting my energies in worry. Besides, 
it is my belief that, 9 times out of 10, worrying about 
something does more danger than the thing itself. Give worry 
its rightful place - out of your life.
       
                        By Source Unknown
              from Chicken Soup for the Surviving Soul 
            Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor 
            Hansen, Patty Aubrey & Nancy Mitchell, R.N.




 	A Friend in Need


        
       My six-year-old son, Willie, was thrilled when the 
  tooth fairy left him a dollar.  In the morning, as Willie 
  got ready for school, he tucked the bill in his pocket. 
  Afraid he might lose it, I suggested he leave the money 
  at home.
       "Mom, I have to take it with me," Willie insisted. 
  "Some of my friends don't have enough money to buy 
  chocolate milk."
       Those kids sure have a terrific friend. And 
       Willie has one proud mom.
          
                   By Mary Joy Long
              Excerpted from Woman's World
          from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
           Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark 
              Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk 







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