UGH - We Got 'Um Stories... :) Shangy!
>-->Hot off the
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!!!!!!!
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Every day I come into my computer room and have a wall full of indian
artifacts to greet me. My daughter thought I should share this with
you so I decided it would be fun to let you see what I see every day.
My son took some pictures of the 8 cases of Indian points, stones, and
arrowheads we have displayed here. I chose 4 pictures and did up a page
using them along with giving you a little bit of their history. I hope
you like it! If so, please be sure and share it with others. Thanks!
Visit here - Ohio Indians:
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/ohioindians.html
Ohio
Indians
======================================================================
>-->Great News From Liberty Counsel:
With all the noise the ACLU is making, this fact may surprise you:
In order to receive federal funds under the Elementary and
Secondary Education Act of 1965, every local school district
must certify that it is not engaging in any policy or
practice which interferes with constitutionally protected
prayer. Schools may lose federal funds if they fail to
comply with the guidelines.
You read that correctly -- schools can lose their federal
funding if they interfere with voluntary student-led prayer!
Elrhea, this news is a shock to even the most
ardent supporters of school prayer. I can guarantee you
that most school administrators don't know this either!
That's because the ACLU's massive disinformation campaign
has caused many schools to fear even allowing voluntary prayer.
Liberty Counsel is working to change this. This school year,
we have reached out to thousands of schools with the truth.
But the ACLU continues to threaten schools.
Will you help me keep the fight for student freedom
going throughout the entire school graduation season?
Please go here to make a tax-deductible gift:
http://www.libertyaction.org/3081/offer.asp?rid=11737726
If you can donate any gift, I will send you our newest
resource, a quality, 16-page bound booklet entitled "It's
Time To Take Back America." But most importantly, you'll
be helping Liberty Counsel fight these battles.
Most high schools have not yet had their graduation
ceremonies. I urgently need your help. Thanks in advance!
Mathew Staver, Founder and Chairman
Liberty Counsel
P.S. Schools cannot discriminate or they will lose federal
funding! That’s a message the ACLU will never tell. But
with your help, we can get the word out and protect the
rights of students to pray and honor God this graduation season.
http://www.libertyaction.org/3081/offer.asp?rid=11737726
========================================================================
>Summer of Fire Story Editor:
by Rick Walker Joyce Schowalter
British Columbia, Canada
The summer of 2003 in central British Columbia, Canada was the summer of
fire. The firestorm resulted in the evacuation of 90,000 people for six
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weeks, burning out hundreds of homes and devastating lives.
As the fires were active, one local resident, "Fred", had spent several
weeks out on a work-train for the railroad. His upcoming birthday
present to himself was a mortgage-burning; his home would be paid off
one week before his birthday. His returning work-train passed down the
valley where he lived -- and he saw his home and possessions go up in
flames as he rode by.
In Canada, Emergency Social Services is part of our Provincial Emergency
Program. ESS and PEP are volunteers who work their regular jobs, *then*
work 8-12 hours volunteering.
Evacuees are encouraged to register with ESS. They don't have to accept
aid but it allows family members to contact them. As requested, Fred
registered. We recommended he return daily to check for messages and we
offered aid every day, which he refused. He said, "I'm staying with
friends, others need it more."
After two weeks Fred learned that ESS would help his hosts with food. He
thought he could help them out. The clerk he talked to thought he was
trying to abuse the system, refused him, and hinted that he was
dishonest.
This was too much for Fred and he lost his temper. He yelled at the
clerk. Security detained him and called the RCMP.
I found him surrounded by four security people and very upset. As a PEP
director, I sent the security away to find out what was going on.
Remember, this man is an evacuated railroad worker. He has tattoos, long
hair and is still wearing worn but clean work clothes.
The stress was too much, and Fred was on the edge of breaking down. I
took him outside, found him a tree to lean against, gave him a bottle of
water and told him to stay put for a minute. I went inside and found an
ESS supervisor.
She gathered forms and I took her to Fred outside. She took charge,
sitting with him almost an hour. She put her arm around him, talked, and
listened to him. She filled out forms and had him sign them. He left
with a handful of forms for food, toiletries and clothing and his head
held high (if a bit dazed).
What she did was far outside her normal duties. She did what had to be
done in a no-nonsense, git 'er done kind of way.
A month after the last evacuee went home I met Fred again on the street.
He stopped and thanked me. He said it was the worst time of his life but
it was when he saw the best in people. The supervisor I introduced to
him made him feel like a human again for the first time and he will
always remember her as the bright spot in a black time.
=======HeroicStories=======
>-->CINDERELLA STORY by Max Lucado
My friend Kenny and his family had just returned from Disney World. "I
saw a sight I'll never forget," he said. "I want you to know about it."
He and his family were inside Cinderella's castle. It was packed with
kids and parents. Suddenly all the children rushed to one side. Had it
been a boat, the castle would have tipped over. Cinderella had entered.
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_____________________________________________
Cinderella. The pristine princess. Kenny said she was perfectly
typecast. A gorgeous young girl with each hair in place, flawless skin,
and a beaming smile. She stood waist-deep in a garden of kids, each
wanting to touch and be touched.
For some reason Kenny turned and looked toward the other side of the
castle. It was now vacant except for a boy maybe seven or eight years
old. His age was hard to determine because of the disfigurement of his
body. Dwarfed in height, face deformed, he stood watching quietly and
wistfully, holding the hand of an older brother.
Don't you know what he wanted? He wanted to be with the children. He
longed to be in the middle of the kids reaching for Cinderella, calling
her name. But can't you feel his fear, fear of yet another rejection?
Fear of being taunted again, mocked again? Don't you wish Cinderella
would go to him? Guess what? She did!
She noticed the little boy. She immediately began walking in his
direction. Politely but firmly inching through the crowd of children,
she finally broke free. She walked quickly across the floor, knelt at
eye level with the stunned little boy, and placed a kiss on his face.
"I thought you would appreciate the story," Kenny told me. I did. It
reminded me of the one you and I have been studying. The names are
different, but isn't the story almost the same? Rather than a princess
of Disney, we've been considering the Prince of Peace. Rather than a boy
in a castle, we've looked at a thief on a cross. In both cases a gift
was given. In both cases love was shared. In both cases the lovely one
performed a gesture beyond words.
But Jesus did more than Cinderella. Oh, so much more.
Cinderella gave only a kiss. When she stood to leave, she took her
beauty with her. The boy was still deformed. What if Cinderella had done
what Jesus did? What if she'd assumed his state? What if she had somehow
given him her beauty and taken on his disfigurement?
That's what Jesus did.
"He took our suffering on him and felt our pain for us.. He was wounded
for the wrong we did; he was crushed for the evil we did. The
punishment, which made us well, was given to him, and we are healed
because of his wounds" (Isa. 53:4-5).
Make no mistake:
Jesus gave more than a kiss--he gave his beauty.
He paid more than a visit--he paid for our mistakes.
He took more than a minute--he took away our sin.
Max Lucado
Source: "Gentle Thunder" Copyright (c) 1995 (Used by Permission)
==================================================================
>-->From UrbanLegends:
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>Once in a 'Blue Moon'
The almanac tells us that Thursday, May 31 is a "blue moon," defined on
this occasion as the second full moon in a month that happens to have
two instead of one. Historically, the phrase was understood in a much
more literal way, however. According to folklorist Philip Hiscock, it
once denoted a phenomenon even more rare than a month with two full
moons -- so rare, in fact, that it has probably occurred only once or
twice in all of recorded history.
'Blue Moon' facts and folklore
In modern times, the term "blue moon" is defined as the second full moon
occurring within a single month. By a somewhat older definition, it's
the third full moon in a season that has four — instead of the normal
three — full moons. Either way, it's an out-of-the-ordinary phenomenon
occuring only once ever few years.
"Blue moon" was understood in a much more literal way historically,
writes folklorist Philip Hiscock in the pages of Sky & Telescope. Once
upon a time, he says, it denoted a phenomenon even rarer than an extra
full moon, one that has occurred perhaps only once or twice in recorded
history: the face of moon literally appearing to turn blue in color.
"In fact," notes Hiscock, "the very earliest uses of the term were
remarkably like saying the Moon is made of green cheese.
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Both were obvious absurdities, about which there could be no doubt. 'He
would argue the Moon was blue' was taken by the average person of the
16th century as we take 'He'd argue that black is white.'"
Unusual atmospheric phenomena like massive amounts of volcanic dust
probably account for the few times in recent millenia when the moon
reportedly did present an azure face to observers on earth.
Most people don't realize that "blue moon" took on its present
astronomical meaning fairly recently. It's "a truly modern piece of
folklore, masquerading as something old," says Hiscock. The "second full
moon in a month" definition only dates back about 50 years. However it
is defined, the phrase will probably always retain its ancient
connotations, as evinced, for example, in popular songs identifying the
image with loneliness and despair.
Visit here for more:
http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/errata/a/blue_moon.htm
-<>-
Stolen License Plates Used in Gasoline Thefts!
YES This is TRUE -
Read all about it here:
http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/crime/a/license_plates.htm
=======================================================================
>-->From Heartwarmers:
>FREEDOM'S PRICE by Pamela Perry Blaine
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It was early morning and Mama had a box filled with flowers she
had just gathered from our back yard.
She had placed them in coffee cans and tall juice cans that she
had covered with aluminum foil. I was too young to know very much
about flowers but I did recognize the irises and peonies or "pineys"
as Grandma called them.
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Daddy had already mounted the American Flag on the pole that
extended from the side of the house and he was loading the huge box
full of flowers into the trunk of the car. I noticed the flag
unfurling in the soft breeze as we all got into the car and drove
down the lane to get Grandma.
If she was well enough, she always went with us every year on
this important outing. I sat in the front seat of the car, in the
middle, between Daddy and my brother. Mama sat in the back beside
Grandma and down the road we went because it was Decoration Day and
the day our whole family went to the cemeteries.
The first stop was Linville Cemetery, a beautiful place with
huge old oak trees with branches that seemed to protect the
inhabitants of the cemetery with their wide boughs. We had relatives
buried at Linville and we all got out of the car and walked the short
distance to grave sites.
Everyone was quieter and Mama reminded us to be respectful
because we were to honor the final resting places of those buried in
the cemetery. Mama placed some of the flowers on the graves and she
and Daddy spoke about some of the relatives and told us children a
little about each one.
There were many small American flags at grave sites across the
cemetery. Daddy and Mama talked about how those flags were placed
there by veteran organizations to honor the soldiers who had served
our country, many of them giving their lives to keep our country free.
Next, we drove what seemed to me to be a very long way. It was
where Daddy's relatives, including his parents and grandparents, had
been buried. As we got out of the car, I looked up to see the
familiar little white church with the name, Eucebia, written high up
near the gabled roof. Church services were no longer held at Eucebia
but I was allowed to go inside and look around. Churches were never
locked back then because people had respect for the things of God
whether they attended church or not.
Behind the church was the cemetery. It had been recently mowed
and once again I could see those small American flags waving in the
breeze over several of the graves in the cemetery. Daddy made sure
to come in April or early May to be certain that the grave plots were
looking good for Decoration Day when many people visited the
cemeteries.
Again, Mama placed flowers on all the graves of our relatives
while Daddy showed me his brother Arthur's grave. He had died when
he was just one year old in an accident. Daddy didn't remember him
because he was one of the oldest of ten children and Daddy was the
youngest child. Yet, he always paused a moment in front of Arthur's
grave to pay his respects and place a flower there for the brother he
never got to know in this life.
We also attended the Memorial Day service that was held every
year at the county courthouse. The American Flag seemed to be
everywhere on that day. Many homes displayed the flag and the
courthouse yard was encircled with them. There was usually a special
speaker, readings, salutes, and then with heads bowed a bugler would
play Taps that was echoed in the distance by another bugler.
Daddy never missed a Memorial Day service because he was a
veteran of WWII and it was important to him to give honor to those
who had given their lives for our country. He was a member of the
American Legion and the VFW and, later in life, he became a veterans
service officer, a job that he held dear until the day the bugle
sounded at his own grave site.
It is important for us to teach our children and grandchildren
the meaning for the observance of the Memorial Day so they will know
the price that has been paid for their freedom.
It only takes one generation of neglect to forget valuable
teachings of the past.
-- Pamela Perry Blaine
___________________________________________
Pamela lives in Missouri with her husband, Michael. Pam and Mike
have made a CD of several songs she has written called, I'll Walk You
Home. It is available by freewill donation. More information as
well as a clip from the CD is on the website at:
http://www.blaines.us/PamyPlace.htm
====================================================================
>-->From HeartTouchers:
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>A Can of Tuna By Betty Chadek
On a crisp Sunday morning in 1971, my four teenage children and I sat in
our usual place in church. The sixth row and right-hand side of the
sanctuary was the Chadek aisle. As the pastor highlighted the weekly
announcements, the five of us thumbed through our church bulletins. We
all paid particular attention when the pastor announced that the church
had selected a needy family to support for Thanksgiving. He encouraged
generosity and asked the congregation to bring canned goods and other
items to the Wednesday night Bible study. One of my children leaned over
and said to the other children, "Gosh, there's somebody worse off than
us."
It broke my heart to hear those words from my son, Mike. As a single
mother of six, two now living on their own, I struggled every week to
make ends meet. We lived in subsidized housing and even though I had a
job, things were at an all time low. To top it off, the Department of
Health and Welfare recently determined because of my annual income, that
we were no longer eligible for welfare subsidies. Even though our
situation was desperate, the Lord always reminded me of His word, and
that is what we clung to. Because of our own struggle, we were able to
consider this family's needs and how we might contribute in some way.
Since I knew that I could depend on God to always give me relief from my
distress and to be my strength and my refuge in time of trouble, the
children and I found left over dry products distributed by the foods
subsidies program; the usual rice and cornmeal packages. We had two cans
of tuna and decided to part with one. I imagined this family having a
tuna casserole as we would. There were a few additional items we placed
in the bag, including a can of evaporated milk. There wasn't much but we
poured our heart into the project and were excited to share what we did
have with this needy family. Our nearly full bag was placed in the foyer
of the church and I went on to Bible Study and Prayer.
After I arrived home from Bible study that Wednesday evening, the
doorbell rang. My son, Michael, answered the door and yelled out, "Hey
Mom, there's some guys here from the church." When I went to the door
there were three men from the church, and a pick-up full of grocery
bags. They began placing brown grocery bags all over the kitchen, on the
floor and counter tops.
That needy family was us!
Later that night when I put the food away, I came across our bag; the
rice, cornmeal, evaporated milk, and that valued can of tuna. The Lord
multiplied our giving and I felt as if I was looking at baskets of
loaves and fishes.
What a Thanksgiving we experienced that year! What a wise, faithful and
compassionate God we have. How comforting to realize that because God
knows our frame, He also knows what we will need in the future as well
as at the present. Since he knows our needs--present and future--we can
believe Him whenever he says "Before they call I will answer, while they
are yet speaking, I will hear" (Isaiah 65:24 NIV)
I believe I was able to share our resources because early in my
Christian walk, I learned that it was God's responsibility to bring
victory and it was my responsibility to get into the battle and pray. It
wasn't easy and there were many times when I struggled with doubt, but I
clung to God's promises. I decided just as David did, that I would put
the Lord always before me, "He is at my right hand" David said (Psalm
16:8 NIV). I would learn not to be shaken by the circumstances of life.
"Your word O Lord is eternal, it stands firm in the heavens. Your
faithfulness continues through all generations, if your law had not been
my delight, I would have perished in my affliction (Psalm 119:89, NIV).
Betty Chadek
bechadek @ yahoo.com
Write Betty and let her know your thoughts on her story!
(Remember to close up the spaces before and after the @ symbol on her
e-mail address when you write to her)
======================================================================
>-->From InspiredBuffalo:
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An Old Soldier's Advice
On the eve of their deployment to Iraq, three brothers received a
letter from their great-uncle. His honest counsel is helpful for
anyone fighting a war—or living a life.
Feb. 1, 2007
Dear Jon, Ben and Rick*,
The other day I was thinking of you three and the prospect that one
or more of you may soon be going into unfriendly territory. There is
something I want to share with you. It is from a long time ago, which
is what old guys like me are likely to talk about, I'm afraid.
You may be wondering what could have happened to me in 1945 in World
War II that would have any application to your present situation.
Well, while tactics and weapons have changed a lot, some things
haven't. In the final analysis, the mission of an army at war is the
same: eliminating the enemy. And the foot soldier is the one asked to
do it. Our enemies then were Nazi Germans, and now yours are
religious terrorists. But the need to kill the enemy hasn't changed.
I assume your training taught you how to kill, and that it included
stuff that was designed to get you to really hate the enemy. We
certainly had that.
It only took six months—October to March—for me to move from being a
civilian going to church every week, to being in combat conditions
where both sides were searching for more effective ways to destroy
each other. While I learned what I needed to, I was confused by the
dramatic shift from "Love thy neighbor" and "Thou shalt not kill" to
immersing myself in the mindset necessary for a military victory. I
struggled to be both a good soldier and a good Christian.
When Killing Is Murder
How to kill and still keep the biblical commandments was a problem
for me. No one in the military, or at home, had ever brought up this
dilemma. And there was no one in our unit to turn to for advice. I
was the newest replacement, 18 with a 14-year-old's face. I was known
only as "Kid." We were a platoon of armored recon vehicles leading
the invasion of inner Germany, and so we were focused people. We
didn't talk about moral dilemmas.
As I pondered the problem, I came to a conclusion that worked for me.
My studies showed me that the word "kill" in the sixth commandment
(Ex. 20:13), as written in the King James Version of the Bible, is
not the most accurate translation of the original Hebrew word. It
really means "murder," not kill. What's the difference? A big one
involving intent.
Murder is a premeditated act of taking a life, and one that's often
inspired by hatred. A person acting in a "just cause" and on an
authorized and impersonal basis isn't committing a murder, though he
is killing. A cop killing an armed bank robber in the line of duty is
not a murderer. Therefore, if you kill a terrorist in the midst of
heated combat, it is not murder. But if you get ticked off about
losing a buddy a few minutes before and, in your bitter rage, take
out a couple Iraqi civilians, you are a murderer and will face
criminal charges as well. When it is in the line of duty and lawful,
you are obliged to do your job. However, you should never be happy
about the necessity of taking a human life.
Resisting Hate
It became important to me that I not hate the enemy, even as I was
trying to kill him. I know. That sounds stupid, right? But I needed
to remain dispassionate and cool, not upset and bitter. How did it
work out in combat? Pretty well, but in two cases I almost blew it.
In one episode, an old civilian was spouting Nazi garbage at me. I
wanted to shoot him, but he was unarmed and a civilian, so I didn't.
The other time a sniper got in three very close shots at me in a
village we were taking, and I lost it and wanted to do anything to
get the guy. I proposed exposing myself to draw his fire again while
my buddies went for him. But older, wiser heads prevailed,
saying "Settle down, Kid. We'll get him." And they did a little
later. My anger and immaturity almost got me killed.
Can you shoot at the enemy without having a craw full of hate? Sure
you can.
At first you are fighting fear, so hate isn't a big deal. But as
combat goes on, the fear level becomes manageable and you reach a
point where you're just doing the job you're charged to do. You're
shooting at a target, not a person. That is how a soldier in combat
must see it. Staying calm and not letting hate get involved makes you
a better soldier, and it keeps you from becoming a murderer.
Sometimes combat becomes so routine that killing can seem casual or
even sort of funny, in a twisted way. You all remember that I was
severely wounded in combat, right? Well, just an hour before I was
hit, a few of us from my platoon were stationed in the loft of a
barn, looking out over a field we were preparing to secure. There
were four or five of us, and one guy had just spotted a German
crawling in a distant ditch and wanted to take him out. But it would
be a very long, challenging shot. He took a couple shots, paused a
minute, then said, "Oh, [shoot]! He's moving again. I didn't get
him." Another soldier wanted a turn. He took several shots, as we all
did in rotation until the German lay dead. It was a kind of casual
contest for us, but now I realize we were not as respectful of a
human life as we should have been.
My Friend the Enemy
It is distressing for me to realize that Christ died for the
terrorists, too. As violent and anti-Christian as they are, Jesus
died for even them. So how do we balance that awareness with the job
of killing them? I don't have a well-developed answer for that one. I
never got to the point that I'd aim at a German and hope to hit him
while praying for his soul at the same time. But I was able to avoid
hating the Nazis while I fought, and I thought that this was
important for me as I tried to balance my faith with my combat duties.
One day we captured a couple Germans, and one was so young he looked
a lot like me. He still had his wristwatch on, which meant he hadn't
been searched. (We always "liberated" watches from the captured
Germans.) So I patted him down and was amazed at what I found in his
various pockets. There was a Bible, a Gospel of John, and a New
Testament! If things had been different, this kid and I might have
been in the same church somewhere. But there we were, trying to kill
each other. I know—you aren't likely to find this happening in Iraq.
But my point is that every life has value, and we shouldn't take for
granted that every person was created in God's image—even our
enemies. When you go through the pockets of someone you shoot and
find the pictures of his family, it makes you think about more than
just putting another notch on your belt.
At the beginning of every day in combat, I prayed for safety, of
course. But I also tried to finish each day with a prayer for anybody
I may have wounded or killed. I don't know if it ever helped them,
but it helped me.
Defying Orders
For a long time, I was proud that I never failed to follow an order.
But one night my convictions were put to the test. We were trying to
recapture a village the Germans had taken back from us that day. It
was dark when the fight got the hottest, and the Lieutenant said to a
group of us, "If it gets any hotter, we are gonna have to high-tail
it outta here. If we do, shoot the prisoners." We had three
prisoners, as I recall.
I could hardly believe my ears. Yet I knew that orders like this were
not uncommon. Just the week before, the word was that our guys had
shot some German kids down from telephone poles where they were
cutting wires. Although I'd heard of earlier times when neither side
had taken prisoners, the prospect of ending our prisoners' lives
because they would hinder our escape seemed wrong.
I knew it was important to obey an officer's orders, but I decided
not to do it if it came to that, because it was an illegal order. He
never could have brought me up on charges for disobeying, though my
reputation in the platoon would've suffered. Fortunately, we got the
upper hand and it was never necessary to defy the order.
My point is, following orders is the right thing to do, but only if
they are legal orders. Our moral standards will at times be in
conflict with our orders. May God help you to stand by your
convictions during those times.
Blessed Assurance
That's it, guys. Keep cool, avoid hating as you perform, follow only
lawful orders, and pray a lot. Try to balance your duty with the
awareness that even terrorists have value in God's eyes.
I'll end with one more recollection and observation. Service days are
perhaps the toughest time in life to walk the walk of faith as a
Christian. The environment just doesn't give you many brownie points
for acting anything like Jesus. But this is where the assurance of
having a vital faith is really needed.
Like most of the GI's, I had the wish that if I got hit it would be
in an arm or leg, not the chest or stomach. No one had body armor in
those ancient times. When it happened, I knew immediately that I had
a chest wound because the blood was bubbling out of a hole in my
back. In addition, my legs wouldn't move when I tried to crawl over
to my squad leader who lay near me. I was certain that I was dying,
and I was scared stiff! At the same time, I felt a quiet assurance
that I knew where I was going. I was secure in my faith in Jesus. It
helped to have that final uncertainty taken care of. This same faith
sustained me through a year of healing and learning to walk again
after the quadriplegia passed. And it still comforts and assures me
today, 62 years later.
Your experiences will be a whole lot different than mine, but I pray
you will have the same confidence that comes from being one of
Christ's own, whatever comes your way.
Love, "Great Uncle Bob"
*The events described in this letter are true, but the names have
been changed to protect this family's privacy.
Copyright © 2007 by the author
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A Normal Day ?????????
No longer do I have smooth skin
My hair has all turned white.
And earlier this morning
I was such a scary sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I tried to look my very best
I did what I was able.
Then it took me an hour
Just to reach the breakfast table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The reason that it took so long,
Now-a-days I use a walker.
Thank God my voice is still intact
I'd hate to lose my talker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I finally got to the kitchen
I knew I should eat soon.
But wondered - should I eat breakfast
Or is it nearly noon?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh well! It doesn't matter,
I'm still not ready to eat.
When I was in the bathroom
I forgot to get my teeth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then suddenly it occurred to me
I didn't check the mail.
And on my income I can't afford
To miss one single sale.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So off I went at my top speed
Which is 50 yards an hour,
While wondering where I left the milk
And hoping it won't sour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ad I found, in big, bold words said
It's the "SALE OF THE CENTURY".
And "By Golly" I'm determined,
"They won't have a sale without me".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I grabbed my coat and started the car
Didn't want to be too late.
But I needed to use the bathroom,
So the sale would have to wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I finally made it back in the car
Then drove as fast as I can.
But again I had forgot my teeth
And had to go home again".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two hours later, I finally arrived
And I only ran one red light.
By now I didn't have long to shop,
'Cause after dark I lose my eye sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So again I rushed at my top speed
Searching for things I need.
Just in case, I'll buy some milk
And I'm almost out of bird seed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I found some clothes I really liked
And I wondered "what's the matter"!
I tried them on but they didn't fit,
Could this mean I'm getting fatter?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cashier tried to talk to me
But I couldn't hear a word she said.
Then suddenly it dawned on me.
My hearing aid batteries were dead!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I read her lips to get the price
Then tried to count my money.
But without my glasses I couldn't tell
If it was one dollar or a twenty.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the shopping done, to the car I ran
Though my speed didn't actually quicken.
But that's OK. It's probably best.
The way my old heart was ticken.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I arrived back home, turned the TV on,
And watched "The Price Is Right".
Good thing they don't show reruns,
I'd have watched that thing all night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then it was time to read my book
But when I finished readin.
I realized it was time for bed
And I still hadn't eaten.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All in all, I have to say
The day was a total disaster.
If tomorrow's gonna be any better
I'll just have to move a lot faster!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright © 2002 Ron Lantz
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