Older Than Harold
A little boy, sitting in his grandfather’s lap, asks his grandfather:
– Grandfather, were you with Noah aboard a ship?
“Of course not,” said the grandfather, smiling.
“Why didn’t you drown then?”
The priest repairs the stool in his garden. Suddenly, he discovers that a company of neighboring boys is surreptitiously watching his company.
– What are you, my children, want to learn how to hammer in nails? – asks the priest.
“No,” says one of the boys, “we want to hear what the priest says when he hits himself on the finger with a hammer.”
If a gang of robbers dove into a swimming pool, would that cause a crime wave?
To win the attention of the listeners, the senior pastor began the sermon with the following words: “Yesterday I was with one woman who hugged me, kissed me and called me gently, but this was not my wife …”
After some silence, he continued: it was my mother.
Having seen what effect such an introduction had on those present, the young assistant pastor decided to use this method. The following Sunday, he came to his church and began to preach: “Yesterday I was with one woman who hugged me, kissed me and called me gently, but this was not my wife …”
Then he realized that he had forgotten the pastor’s sermon and, after some silence, added embarrassedly: “But I don’t remember who she was.”
(the moral is: you have to be an eagle, not a parrot).
The little boy was in the church, built in honor of the fallen soldiers. On the walls of the church are many bas-reliefs in memory of the soldiers. The kid asks the priest: “What is there?”
“Well, my son, this is in memory of those who died in the service.”
The boy looks apprehensively at his holy father: “On the morning or in the evening?”
The pastor walks down the street and passes by a handful of boys who crowded around a puppy. “Are you torturing a dog?” Asked the pastor.
“No, uncle, we just found a puppy, and everyone wants to take him for himself. We decided to arrange a competition: whoever lies the best, will take the puppy. ”
“Ah ah ah! Shame on you! Lying is a sin. When I was little, I never lied. ”
The boys fell silent, exchanged glances, and then one of them took the puppy in his arms and said: “Take the puppy, pastor, you won.”
I’M A SENIOR CITIZEN…
I’m very good at opening childproof caps with a hammer.
I’m smiling all the time because I can’t hear a word you’re saying.
I’m having trouble remembering simple words like…uhhhh…ummmm
I’m sure they are making adults much younger these days.
THE MAGIC BANK ACCOUNT
Imagine that you had won the prize in a contest. Each morning your bank would deposit $86,400 into your private account, with rules that read:
1. Everything that you did not spend during each day would be withdrawn from your account.
2. You may not simply transfer money into some other account.
3. You may only spend It.
4. Each morning, when you wake, the bank opens your account with another $86,400 for that day.
5. The bank can end the game, without warning, at any time. It can say, “Game Over!” and close the account and you will not receive a new one.
What would you personally do?
You would buy anything and everything you wanted, right? Not only for yourself, but for all the people you love and care for. Even for people you don’t know, because you couldn’t possibly spend it all on yourself, right?
You would try to spend every penny, and use it all, because you knew it would be replenished in the morning, right?
This “game” is actually real, to each of us. Each of us is already a winner of this prize. We just can’t seem to see it.
The prize is TIME.
1. Each morning, upon waking, we receive 86,400 seconds as a gift of Life.
2. And when we go to sleep at night, any remaining time is not credited to us.
3. What we have not used up that day is forever lost.
4. Yesterday is gone forever.
5. Each morning the account is refilled, but the bank can dissolve our account at any time without warning.
So, what will we do with our seconds?
Those 86,400 seconds are worth so much more than $86,400. Think about it, and remember to enjoy every second of your life, because time races by so much quicker than you think.
Take care of yourself, be happy, love deeply and live life to the fullest!
Start spending. Wisely.
And don’t complain about growing old! Some people don’t get the privilege.
Parking Zones Disease
Funny, but untrue story:
Outside England’s Bristol Zoo there is a parking lot for 150 cars and 8 buses. For 25 years, its parking fees were managed by a very pleasant attendant… The fees for cars ($1.40), for buses (about $7).
Then, one day, after 25 solid years of never missing a day of work, he just didn’t show up; so the zoo management called the city council and asked it to send them another parking agent. The council did some research and replied that the parking lot was the zoo’s own responsibility. The zoo advised the council that the attendant was a city employee. The city council responded that the lot attendant had never been on the city payroll.
Meanwhile, sitting in his villa somewhere on the coast of Spain, or France, or Italy, is a man who’d apparently had a ticket booth installed completely on his own and then had simply begun to show up every day, commencing to collect and keep the parking fees, estimated at about $560 per day — for 25 years. Assuming 7 days a week, this amounts to just over $7 million dollars… and no one even knows his name.
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person – her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know. “Information Please” could supply anybody’s number and the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.
The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. “Information Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
“I hurt my finger…” I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.
“Nobody’s home but me.” I blubbered.
“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.
“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.”
“Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could. “Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.
After that, I called “Information Please” for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just he day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called “Information Please” and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.” Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. “Information Please.”
“Information,” said the now familiar voice.
“How do you spell fix?” I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.
“Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information, Please.” Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, “Information.”
I hadn’t planned this but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now.”
I laughed. “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time.”
“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.”
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.”
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered “Information.”
I asked for Sally.
“Are you a friend?” She said.
“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, she said. Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”
Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?”
“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you.” The note said, “Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.”
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?
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