Quick Thinking

There is a story about a new clerk in a supermarket. A customer asked him if she could buy half a grapefruit. Not knowing what to do, he excused himself to ask the manager.

“Some nut out there wants to buy half a grapefruit…” he began, and, suddenly realizing that the customer had entered the office behind him, continued, ” … and this lovely lady would like to buy the other half.”

The manager was impressed with the way the clerk amicably resolved the problem and they later started chatting. “Where are you from?” asked the store manager.

“Lancaster, Pennsylvania,” replied the clerk, “home of ugly women and great hockey teams.”

“Oh, my *WIFE* is from Lancaster,” challenged the manager.

Without skipping a beat, the clerk asked, “What team was she on?”

Q: Why don’t you ever see chickens in the zoo?

A: Because they can’t afford the admission.

 

Never say…Die

Walt disney didn’t die. He’s in suspended animation

Old yachtsmen never die, they just keel over

Old x-ray techs never die, they just barium

Old wrestlers never die, they just lose their grip

Old trombonists never die, they just slide away

Old tanners never die, they just go into hiding.

Old swimmers never die, they just have a stroke

Old steelmakers never die, they just lose their temper.

Old or ageing skiers never die, but they go downhill fast

Old Scots never die, but they can be kilt

Old salesmen never die, they just go out of commission

Old quilters never die, they just go under cover

Old quarterbacks never die, they just fade back and pass away

Old preachers never die, they just ramble on, and on, and on, and on

Old policemen never die, they just cop out.

Old plumbers never die, they just go down the drain

Old plumbers never die, that is why they smell that way

Old pilots never die, they just go to a higher plane.

Old photographers never die, they just stop developing.

School House Book Titles

Walking To School The First Day Back
by Misty Bus

The Day The Car Pool Forgot Me
by I. Rhoda Bike

Can’t See The Chalkboard
by Sidney Backrow

What I Dislike About Returning To School
by Mona Lott

Making It Through The First Week Of School
by Gladys Saturday

Is Life Over When Summer Ends?
by Midas Welbee

What I Love About Returning To School
by I. M. Kidding

THE GOLDEN RULE EXEMPLIFIED.

 

Early one morning while it was yet dark, a poor man came to my door and informed me that he had an infant child very sick, which he was afraid would die. He desired me to go to his home, and, if possible, prescribe some medicine to relieve it. “For,” said he, “I want to save its life if possible.” As he spoke thus the tears ran down his face. He then added “I am a poor man; but, doctor, I will pay you in work as much as you ask if you will go.”

I said: “Yes, I will go with you as soon as I take a little refreshment.”

“Oh, sir,” said he, “I was going to try to get a bushel of corn, and get it ground to carry home, and I am afraid the child will die before I get there. I wish you would not wait for me;” and then added: “We want to save the child’s life if we can.”

It being some miles to his house, I did not arrive there until the sun was two hours high in the morning, when I found the mother holding her sick child, and six or seven little boys and girls around her, with clean hands and faces, looking as their mother did, lean and poor. On examining the sick child, I discovered that it was starving to death     I said to the mother “You don’t give milk enough for this child.”

She said: “ I suppose I don’t.”

“Well,” said I, “you must feed it with milk.”

She answered: “I would, sir, but I can’t get any to feed it with.”

I then said: “It will be well then for you to make a little water gruel, and feed your child.”

To this she replied; “I was thinking I would if my husband brings home some Indian meal. He has gone to try to get some, and I am in hopes he will make out.”

She said this with a sad countenance. I asked her with surprise: “Why, madam, have you not got anything to eat?

She strove to suppress a tear, and answered sorrowfully, “No, sir we have had but little these some days.

I said: “What are your neighbors, that you should suffer among them?”

She said; “I suppose they are good people; but we are strangers in this place, and don’t wish to trouble any of them, if we can get along without.”

Wishing to give the child a little manna, I asked for a spoon. The little girl went to the table drawer to get one, and her mother said to her “Get the longest handled spoon.” As she opened the drawer, I saw only two spoons, and both with handles broken off, but one handle was a little longer than the other. I thought to myself, this is a very poor family, but I will do the best I can to relieve them. While I was preparing the medicine for the sick child, I heard the oldest boy (who was about fourteen), say: “You shall have the biggest piece now, because I had the biggest piece before.” I turned around to see who it was that manifested such a principle of justice, and saw four or five children sitting in the corner, where the oldest was dividing a roasted potato among them. And he said to one: “You shall have the biggest piece now,” etc. But the other said “Why, brother, you are the oldest, and you ought to have the biggest piece.”

“No,” said the other, “I had the biggest piece.”

I turned to the mother, and said “ Madam, you have potatoes to eat, I suppose?”

She replied: “We have had, but that is the last one we have left; and the children have now roasted that for their breakfast.”

On hearing this, I hastened home, and informed my wife that I had taken the wrong medicine with me to the sick family. I then prescribed a gallon of milk, two loaves of bread, some butter, meat and potatoes, and sent my boy with these; and had the pleasure to hear in a few days that they were all well

“THEY ARE NOT STRANGERS, MAMMA.”

 

Not long ago I stood by the deathbed of a little girl.

From her birth she had been afraid of death. Every fiber of her body and soul recoiled from the thought of it. Don’t let me die,” she said; “ don’t let me die. Hold me fast.

“Oh, I can’t go!”

“Jennie,” I said, “you have two little brothers in the other world, and there are thousands of tender-hearted people over there, who will love you and take care of you.”

But she cried out again despairingly ” Don’t let me go; they are strangers over there.” She was a little country girl, strong limbed, fleet of foot, tanned in the face; she was raised on the frontier, the fields were her home. In vain we tried to reconcile her to the death that was inevitable.  “Hold me fast,” she cried; “don’t let me go.”  But even as she was pleading, her little hands relaxed their clinging hold from my waist, and lifted themselves eagerly aloft; lifted themselves with such straining effort, that they lifted the wasted little body from its reclining position among the pillows. Her face was turned upward, but it was her eyes that told the story. They were filled with the light of Divine recognition. They saw something plainly that we could not see and they grew brighter and brighter, and her little hand quivered in eagerness to go, where strange portals had opened upon her astonished vision. But even in that supreme moment she did not forget to leave a word of comfort for those who would gladly have died in her place: “Mamma,” she was saying, “mamma, they are not strangers. I’m not afraid.” And every instant the light burned more gloriously in her blue eyes, till at last it seemed as if her soul leaped forth upon its radiant waves; and in that moment her trembling form relapsed among its pillows, and she was gone  — Chicago Woman’s World.