Hey, today is Leap Day!, Cool, huh? Are you going to do something out of the ordinary today? The reason we have a Leap Year is because it doesn't take exactly 365 days for the earth to orbit around the sun, it's actually more like 365 and a quarter days. So every 4 years that adds up to another day which they stick into our calendar. Only, that's not even exact, so to make it come out just right we only add that extra day on years that can be divided by 4. What? Now it's getting complicated. Continue that out and it means that if the year is divisible by 100 it is not a leap year, but if it is divisible by 400 it is. So 1900 was not a leap year, but 2000 was. Go figure!
When I was a girl we learned a poem to help us remember how many days were in a month.
"Thirty days hath September, April, June and November; All the rest have thirty-one......" and then I could never remember the last part of the poem, though I knew it had something to do with February. I found it finally, and it goes like this..... "Save February, she alone Hath eight days and a score til leap year gives her one day more." No wonder I couldn't remember that last part.
Since leap day is so out of the ordinary, people have used it to do extraordinary things. Tradition says that a woman doesn't have to wait for a guy to propose to her on this day, she can pop the question to him. Only she should be wearing a red petticoat for it to work properly. If she is, and her guy declines the offer, he has to buy her a silk gown and give her a kiss. Another legend says if he refuses to mary her he has to give her 12 pairs of gloves. I guess they are to hide the embarrassment of not having an engagement ring on her finger.
Anyway, today is the day to do something different than you usually do. If you really want to splurge, head on over to Disneyland. In honor of this day both Disneyland and Disneyworld are staying open for 24 hours, from 6:00 this morning until 6:00 tomorrow morning. They are calling it "One More Disney Day". What fun!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Life in Early Arizona
When I was a little girl I loved to hear my Grandma Russell talk about her life in frontier Arizona. Her Grandparents came to Arizona in a covered wagon in 1879. Grandma's parents followed the next year, although they were able to make most of the journey by train. Grandma was born on their homestead in Mesa a few years later. She used to tell the most delightful stories about early Mesa and growing up on the desert. Grandma was a school teacher, but I think she always harbored a secret wish to be a writer. She wrote many stories about her childhood, and I will share them with you in her own words.
Since today is primary election day in Arizona, I think I will start by sharing one of Grandma's recolection of her dad playing Uncle Sam. Perhaps the earlier settlers of Arizona were more patriotic than they are today. I remember 4th of July parades in Mesa, but it was a long time ago. Perhaps it's because our cities have grown too big, but I think it might be good for us to go back to the old days when we celebrated being an American.
When I was a little girl we used to go swimming down in the floom pond at the canal. About five o-clock in the hot summer afternoon some one would often hook the horses to the old hay rack and come by for the neighbors to go for a swim. We’d throw in a bucket of grapes or pears or watermelons, sometimes we had time to make sandwiches and punch to eat afterward in the cool grass under the trees near by.
How good the water felt on those hot days! It came swiftly down the floom and even if you got over into the deep water it washed you right out into the shallow part again. We soon got used to being ducked in the water and could swim like little fish.
Then the ride home with our feet dangling over the edge of the haw rack just about sun down, singing songs and telling jokes. My, what fun we had! But one time as we were getting out of the water one of the mothers stepped on the bank of the stream near a rattle snake all coiled up ready to strike and he hit her right on her leg. Quickly they got into the wagon, one of the men cut the place on her leg with his pocket knife, then sucked the blood out as they were riding to the doctors office. She was all right in a little while.
That was the end of our swimming parties. My how we did miss those trips to the old swimming hole and the jolly rides home.
Since today is primary election day in Arizona, I think I will start by sharing one of Grandma's recolection of her dad playing Uncle Sam. Perhaps the earlier settlers of Arizona were more patriotic than they are today. I remember 4th of July parades in Mesa, but it was a long time ago. Perhaps it's because our cities have grown too big, but I think it might be good for us to go back to the old days when we celebrated being an American.
My Uncle Sam
by Ethel H. Stewart Russell
When I was a little girl we always celebrated the fourth of July. We loved our country and all the things it stands for. This was our opportunity to show our appreciation. Days were spent making the floats for the parade. On the first float leading all the rest was my papa who always played the part of Uncle Sam, and when he was dressed in his costume he looked just like the pictures of him. My sister and little brother and I made a ring around him and sang "There is no man like my Uncle Sam. Though you search all the world for the Same." Then Papa would grab mamma and dance us a cake-walk. He was full of fun and enjoyed playing Uncle Sam.
After the parade ended in the cotton wood grove north of town the games got under way. Base-ball, a tug of war, races etc. Then families and friends got together for a picnic lunch. It was a great day of visiting friends, trying our skills in games, and then the program of patriotic speeches and songs and instrumental music was something we all looked forward to for it was very outstanding.
Some years we had fire works in the evenings or an evening of dancing in costume with exhibition dancing which was very beautiful. The memory of these Fourth of July celebrations always calls to memory the picture of ‘my Uncle Sam.’
The old Swimming Hole
How good the water felt on those hot days! It came swiftly down the floom and even if you got over into the deep water it washed you right out into the shallow part again. We soon got used to being ducked in the water and could swim like little fish.
Then the ride home with our feet dangling over the edge of the haw rack just about sun down, singing songs and telling jokes. My, what fun we had! But one time as we were getting out of the water one of the mothers stepped on the bank of the stream near a rattle snake all coiled up ready to strike and he hit her right on her leg. Quickly they got into the wagon, one of the men cut the place on her leg with his pocket knife, then sucked the blood out as they were riding to the doctors office. She was all right in a little while.
That was the end of our swimming parties. My how we did miss those trips to the old swimming hole and the jolly rides home.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Listen To Your Gut
Years ago I taught a parenting class for our school district, specifically aimed at helping families combat drug abuse. One of the principles taught in the class was to pay attention to your instincts. If something feels funny, there will be a reason. I learned, and taught, that our subconscious picks up on things and sends warning signals to our brain which we don't always recognize. A lot of times something bothers us, but since we have no logical proof that anything is wrong we ignore the warning. We need to trust our first impulse more.
I had a very poignant experience which brought this principle home to me as I taught these classes. Sometimes I taught the classes to teachers in the district. On the first night of one of these sessions a teacher walked into my class who immediately sent off all kinds of warning bells in my head. He was a Junior High School History Teacher, but he looked like a reject from the hippie era. He was in his late 20's, his hair was long and his clothing made him look more like a druggie than a teacher. The first thing I thought was, "What is this guy doing in a drug prevention class? He looks like he's one of the people out there doing the drugs!"
As the class began, though, and all through the evening, I readjusted my original impression. The guy seemed to be really on top of things, concerned about drug abuse and really dedicated to helping his students. By the time I went home that night I was kicking myself for being so quick to pass judgement on someone. I decided he must just be trying to dress like the kids so they would relate to him.
A few days before the next class was held our school psychologist called me and asked if I could meet with him. I wondered what on earth for, but as soon as I got a break I went down. He apologized for calling me away from my class, but he said he wanted to let me know in person, before I heard through the grape vine, that one of the members of the class I was teaching for the district had died. It was this History Teacher. The psychologist told me that no one knew the details yet, but they were sure to come out in the newspaper soon. My student had died from an overdose of drugs. Apparently this young man had struggled with chemical dependency for years. He had been arrested a few months earlier, and as part of his rehabilitation he was required to take my drug prevention class. He really wanted to get clean and turn his life around, but something had happened, he'd met up with some of his old friends, and in the end he died.
I was shocked and sad. What a tragic ending to a life so full of promise, but also what a reconfirmation of the principle I was supposed to be teaching to my students. If your gut tells you something is wrong, there's a reason for it.
I had a very poignant experience which brought this principle home to me as I taught these classes. Sometimes I taught the classes to teachers in the district. On the first night of one of these sessions a teacher walked into my class who immediately sent off all kinds of warning bells in my head. He was a Junior High School History Teacher, but he looked like a reject from the hippie era. He was in his late 20's, his hair was long and his clothing made him look more like a druggie than a teacher. The first thing I thought was, "What is this guy doing in a drug prevention class? He looks like he's one of the people out there doing the drugs!"
As the class began, though, and all through the evening, I readjusted my original impression. The guy seemed to be really on top of things, concerned about drug abuse and really dedicated to helping his students. By the time I went home that night I was kicking myself for being so quick to pass judgement on someone. I decided he must just be trying to dress like the kids so they would relate to him.
A few days before the next class was held our school psychologist called me and asked if I could meet with him. I wondered what on earth for, but as soon as I got a break I went down. He apologized for calling me away from my class, but he said he wanted to let me know in person, before I heard through the grape vine, that one of the members of the class I was teaching for the district had died. It was this History Teacher. The psychologist told me that no one knew the details yet, but they were sure to come out in the newspaper soon. My student had died from an overdose of drugs. Apparently this young man had struggled with chemical dependency for years. He had been arrested a few months earlier, and as part of his rehabilitation he was required to take my drug prevention class. He really wanted to get clean and turn his life around, but something had happened, he'd met up with some of his old friends, and in the end he died.
I was shocked and sad. What a tragic ending to a life so full of promise, but also what a reconfirmation of the principle I was supposed to be teaching to my students. If your gut tells you something is wrong, there's a reason for it.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Graduation Present
(I heard this story over 40 years ago. I wish I knew who wrote it so I could give credit to the author. It has been one of my favorite stories, and I have never forgotten it. I hope you enjoy it, too.)
Amy bounced into the apartment she shared with her mother, threw her bag on the couch, and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. She grinned as she bit into the apple, sighing with satisfaction. She was done with school! What a lovely feeling! She had just finished her last day of high school, graduation was tonight, and then she was free!
Happily walking into the bedroom, she saw two tissue wrapped packages on her bed. "Oh, my," she thought. "Did mom really do it? Did she buy me a graduation dress?"
Amy picked up the larger package and tore the tissue off, remembering the darling dresses she had described to her mother a few weeks earlier. All of her friends parents had bought them beautiful gowns for graduation, but Amy had been sure her mother couldn't afford a store bought dress for her. As the tissue fell away Amy looked in dismay at the pretty dress her mother had sewn for her. It was lovely, Amy's mother was a good seamstress, and she had spent a lot of time putting extra details into the dress, but it was still homemade, and Amy threw it away from her in disgust.
"Does mom really think I want to wear a homemade dress to graduation?" she pouted. "Why can't I ever get anything nice, like my friends?" Then she remembered the other package, now lying under the tissue she had tossed aside. Picking up the smaller package Amy smiled in renewed anticipation. Maybe her mom had bought her a special graduation present, after all.
Quickly ripping the tissue off the gift, Amy stared in dismay at the pearl necklace inside. "Not this old thing!" she exclaimed in despair. "First a home made dress, now a hand-me-down necklace!"
Amy dropped onto her bed in frustration and began to sob. She was graduating tonight, and her mother expected her to go wearing a hand made dress and an old pearl necklace! How was she ever going to face her friends?
Amy was a sweet girl and she had really nice friends, but she always felt out of place with them. They had two parents, beautiful homes, and nice things. Amy had nothing. She and her mother lived in a little apartment above the garage of a big estate where her mother was the housekeeper. They had very little of their own, and it embarrassed Amy. She would never have admitted it to anyone, but her mother embarrassed her, too. Amy's mother walked with a limp, dragging her left leg behind her. She always kept her hair pinned under a cap, but sometimes Amy saw her brush it at night. It was gray and scraggly and thin. At least she kept it hidden. Her mother couldn't hide the red, ugly scars that covered her worn, thin face. When she was little, Amy used to wish her mother would take her places like her friends mothers did. As she grew older, though, she began to appreciate that her mother was always too tired from work to go out. It was easier not to have her friends see her.
After sobbing on her bed for awhile, Amy noticed a letter propped up on her dresser. Her name was printed on the envelope, and suddenly Amy's heart jumped in excitement. She recognized the handwriting, it was from her mother's employer, old Mr. Stevens. "I bet he's given me a graduation present," Amy thought as she jumped up to get the card. Quickly she tore it open. Inside there was a check and a letter. Amy let out a sigh of relief as she saw $100 written on the check! "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Stevens is such a sweetheart! Now I can buy my own dress to wear tonight!"
With a grin she opened the letter. It began, "Dear Amy, Congratulations on your graduation. You have grown into a fine young lady, and I know your mother is very proud of you. I hope you can use this money to buy yourself something you have always wanted. I know your mother has not been able to give you all the nice things you would have liked.
I also would like to tell you a story. Its a story about something your mother gave you a long time ago, but she is a very humble person, and she didn't want you to grow up thinking you owed her anything. so she has never told you this story herself. I think you are old enough to hear it now.
You never knew your father, Amy, but he was a good man. He was the son of a rich, selfish tirant. Your grandfather wanted your father to take over his business and mary a rich woman whose family lived close to your father's family. Your father didn't love this woman, though. Instead, he fell in love with a simple, sweet girl from a poor family. She was very beautiful, but your grandfather refused to let his son mary her. He told your father that if he married this girl he would throw him out of his house and never speak to him again. Your father loved this girl very much, so much that he was willing to give up all of his inheritance and position, so they eloped and moved to a different city.
Your father was a good man, but he had grown up rich and spoiled, and it was difficult for him to find a job. They rented a tiny, old, run down house on the edge of town. Your father did whatever work he could find, but it was hard to make ends meet. By this time your mother's parents had died, and they had no one to help them. Within a year or two, you were born. Even though times were hard, your mother and father were very happy. They had each other and you, and that was enough. On your parents third anniversary your father splurged and bought your mother a pearl necklace to show her how much he loved her. It wasn't very fancy or expensive, but it was his way of telling her how much he loved her. Then, because he had spent so much money, he had to work nights as well as days to make up for it.
One cold winter night the old stove your parents used to heat their little house blew up and started the house on fire. Your mother was home alone with you. You were sleeping in the room by the stove, because it was the warmest room in the house. Your mother ran into the burning room, picked you up from your little bed, and wrapped you in a blanket to keep you safe. Then she ran back threw the burning room. The only other thing she was able to take out of her house was her pearl necklace. The blanket had kept you safe, but your mothers clothes and hair were on fire. She was rushed to a hospital. Your father, hearing about the fire, rushed home to find the house engulfed in flames. Afraid that his wife and baby were still inside, he rushed into the house and it fell down around him.
Your mother was in the hospital for a long time. Your grandfather was contacted about your fathers death, and he came to the hospital to talk to your mother. He told her she was in no shape to take care of a child. He said he would take you and raise you as his own daughter as long as your mother would never have anything to do with you. She refused, and he never offered to help again.
Dear Amy, your mother has never wanted you to feel sorry for her, or to worry about the great sacrifice she made for you. But I think you are old enough to know just how much both of your parents loved you, and what they were willing to do for you. I hope you will have a wonderful life, I know you will make them both proud of you.
Amy sat holding the letter from Mr. Stevens for a long time, tears running down her cheeks as she thought about the beautiful young woman her mother had once been, and of all the years she had selflessly taken care of her little daughter, never complaining or asking for pity. At last, Amy picked up the pearls she had carelessly tossed on the bed. She fingered them lovingly for a long time. When her mother came in later that evening she found Amy dressed and waiting to escort her to the graduation, looking lovely in the beautiful dress her mother had made, with the pearl necklace clasped around her neck.
The Graduation Present
Amy bounced into the apartment she shared with her mother, threw her bag on the couch, and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. She grinned as she bit into the apple, sighing with satisfaction. She was done with school! What a lovely feeling! She had just finished her last day of high school, graduation was tonight, and then she was free!
Happily walking into the bedroom, she saw two tissue wrapped packages on her bed. "Oh, my," she thought. "Did mom really do it? Did she buy me a graduation dress?"
Amy picked up the larger package and tore the tissue off, remembering the darling dresses she had described to her mother a few weeks earlier. All of her friends parents had bought them beautiful gowns for graduation, but Amy had been sure her mother couldn't afford a store bought dress for her. As the tissue fell away Amy looked in dismay at the pretty dress her mother had sewn for her. It was lovely, Amy's mother was a good seamstress, and she had spent a lot of time putting extra details into the dress, but it was still homemade, and Amy threw it away from her in disgust.
"Does mom really think I want to wear a homemade dress to graduation?" she pouted. "Why can't I ever get anything nice, like my friends?" Then she remembered the other package, now lying under the tissue she had tossed aside. Picking up the smaller package Amy smiled in renewed anticipation. Maybe her mom had bought her a special graduation present, after all.
Quickly ripping the tissue off the gift, Amy stared in dismay at the pearl necklace inside. "Not this old thing!" she exclaimed in despair. "First a home made dress, now a hand-me-down necklace!"
Amy dropped onto her bed in frustration and began to sob. She was graduating tonight, and her mother expected her to go wearing a hand made dress and an old pearl necklace! How was she ever going to face her friends?
Amy was a sweet girl and she had really nice friends, but she always felt out of place with them. They had two parents, beautiful homes, and nice things. Amy had nothing. She and her mother lived in a little apartment above the garage of a big estate where her mother was the housekeeper. They had very little of their own, and it embarrassed Amy. She would never have admitted it to anyone, but her mother embarrassed her, too. Amy's mother walked with a limp, dragging her left leg behind her. She always kept her hair pinned under a cap, but sometimes Amy saw her brush it at night. It was gray and scraggly and thin. At least she kept it hidden. Her mother couldn't hide the red, ugly scars that covered her worn, thin face. When she was little, Amy used to wish her mother would take her places like her friends mothers did. As she grew older, though, she began to appreciate that her mother was always too tired from work to go out. It was easier not to have her friends see her.
After sobbing on her bed for awhile, Amy noticed a letter propped up on her dresser. Her name was printed on the envelope, and suddenly Amy's heart jumped in excitement. She recognized the handwriting, it was from her mother's employer, old Mr. Stevens. "I bet he's given me a graduation present," Amy thought as she jumped up to get the card. Quickly she tore it open. Inside there was a check and a letter. Amy let out a sigh of relief as she saw $100 written on the check! "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Stevens is such a sweetheart! Now I can buy my own dress to wear tonight!"
With a grin she opened the letter. It began, "Dear Amy, Congratulations on your graduation. You have grown into a fine young lady, and I know your mother is very proud of you. I hope you can use this money to buy yourself something you have always wanted. I know your mother has not been able to give you all the nice things you would have liked.
I also would like to tell you a story. Its a story about something your mother gave you a long time ago, but she is a very humble person, and she didn't want you to grow up thinking you owed her anything. so she has never told you this story herself. I think you are old enough to hear it now.
You never knew your father, Amy, but he was a good man. He was the son of a rich, selfish tirant. Your grandfather wanted your father to take over his business and mary a rich woman whose family lived close to your father's family. Your father didn't love this woman, though. Instead, he fell in love with a simple, sweet girl from a poor family. She was very beautiful, but your grandfather refused to let his son mary her. He told your father that if he married this girl he would throw him out of his house and never speak to him again. Your father loved this girl very much, so much that he was willing to give up all of his inheritance and position, so they eloped and moved to a different city.
Your father was a good man, but he had grown up rich and spoiled, and it was difficult for him to find a job. They rented a tiny, old, run down house on the edge of town. Your father did whatever work he could find, but it was hard to make ends meet. By this time your mother's parents had died, and they had no one to help them. Within a year or two, you were born. Even though times were hard, your mother and father were very happy. They had each other and you, and that was enough. On your parents third anniversary your father splurged and bought your mother a pearl necklace to show her how much he loved her. It wasn't very fancy or expensive, but it was his way of telling her how much he loved her. Then, because he had spent so much money, he had to work nights as well as days to make up for it.
One cold winter night the old stove your parents used to heat their little house blew up and started the house on fire. Your mother was home alone with you. You were sleeping in the room by the stove, because it was the warmest room in the house. Your mother ran into the burning room, picked you up from your little bed, and wrapped you in a blanket to keep you safe. Then she ran back threw the burning room. The only other thing she was able to take out of her house was her pearl necklace. The blanket had kept you safe, but your mothers clothes and hair were on fire. She was rushed to a hospital. Your father, hearing about the fire, rushed home to find the house engulfed in flames. Afraid that his wife and baby were still inside, he rushed into the house and it fell down around him.
Your mother was in the hospital for a long time. Your grandfather was contacted about your fathers death, and he came to the hospital to talk to your mother. He told her she was in no shape to take care of a child. He said he would take you and raise you as his own daughter as long as your mother would never have anything to do with you. She refused, and he never offered to help again.
Dear Amy, your mother has never wanted you to feel sorry for her, or to worry about the great sacrifice she made for you. But I think you are old enough to know just how much both of your parents loved you, and what they were willing to do for you. I hope you will have a wonderful life, I know you will make them both proud of you.
Amy sat holding the letter from Mr. Stevens for a long time, tears running down her cheeks as she thought about the beautiful young woman her mother had once been, and of all the years she had selflessly taken care of her little daughter, never complaining or asking for pity. At last, Amy picked up the pearls she had carelessly tossed on the bed. She fingered them lovingly for a long time. When her mother came in later that evening she found Amy dressed and waiting to escort her to the graduation, looking lovely in the beautiful dress her mother had made, with the pearl necklace clasped around her neck.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
One Cold Day!
Once the Lone Ranger walked into a bar to get a drink. His faithful companion, Tonto, came with him. It was a very cold day, and soon a cowboy walked into the bar and asked, "Mister, is that you silver horse tied up to the hitching post out front?"
"Yes, it is," answered the Lone Ranger.
"Well, sir, it's so cold your horse has ice cycles hanging from his nose."
"Oh, darn," the Lone Ranger said, looking longingly at his drink. Tonto had already finished his glass, so the Lone Ranger asked him if he'd mind going outside and running around Silver as quickly as he could to warm him up. Tonto was happy to help, so he went out to run around the horse.
Soon the ice cycles melted, so Tonto came back into the Saloon.
Not too long after, another cowboy came in, spied the Lone Ranger, and said, "Sir, if that's your horse standing outside at the hitching rail, he's getting so cold his hoofs are freezing to the ground."
"I'll take care of it," offered Tonto, and he went back outside to run around Silver until he warmed up again.
When the horse was OK Tonto came back inside, but it wasn't long before a third cowboy came in to the Saloon. "Hey, anyone who owns that horse standing at the hitching rail out front, it's so cold that his breath is freezing his nose to the hitching rail.
The Lone Ranger looked at Tonto, who shrugged and went back outside to run around the horse. Before he was able to warm Silver up a fourth cowboy walked into the bar. He strode up to the Lone Ranger, looked him in the eye, and said, "Hey, Mister. You left your injun running."
"Yes, it is," answered the Lone Ranger.
"Well, sir, it's so cold your horse has ice cycles hanging from his nose."
"Oh, darn," the Lone Ranger said, looking longingly at his drink. Tonto had already finished his glass, so the Lone Ranger asked him if he'd mind going outside and running around Silver as quickly as he could to warm him up. Tonto was happy to help, so he went out to run around the horse.
Soon the ice cycles melted, so Tonto came back into the Saloon.
Not too long after, another cowboy came in, spied the Lone Ranger, and said, "Sir, if that's your horse standing outside at the hitching rail, he's getting so cold his hoofs are freezing to the ground."
"I'll take care of it," offered Tonto, and he went back outside to run around Silver until he warmed up again.
When the horse was OK Tonto came back inside, but it wasn't long before a third cowboy came in to the Saloon. "Hey, anyone who owns that horse standing at the hitching rail out front, it's so cold that his breath is freezing his nose to the hitching rail.
The Lone Ranger looked at Tonto, who shrugged and went back outside to run around the horse. Before he was able to warm Silver up a fourth cowboy walked into the bar. He strode up to the Lone Ranger, looked him in the eye, and said, "Hey, Mister. You left your injun running."
Friday, February 24, 2012
Lie-Clocks
So, I substituted at the high school today, and spent the day telling stories. (It's easier to keep students under control when you are standing at the front of the room, telling jokes, than it is when they are supposed to be sitting quietly at their desks working.) I don't have any voice left now, but we had a good time. Want to hear one of the stories? (It's ok if you don't, I don't have to keep you on task, and I won't even know if you stop reading.) So here goes......
Hillary Clinton died and went to heaven. Saint Peter met her at the Pearly Gates, and she saw a wall of clocks behind him.
"What are all those clocks?" she asked.
"Those are the Lie-Clocks," he answered. "Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you tell a lie the hands on your clock move."
"Oh," said Hilary. "Whose clock is that?"
"That's Mother Teresa's clock," said Saint Peter. "The hands on that clock have never moved, because she has never told a single lie."
"Wow," said Hilary. "Whose clock is that?"
"That's Abraham Lincoln's clock," replied Saint Peter. "See, the hands on that clock have only moved twice. Abe only told two lies in his whole life."
Hillary was really impressed. "But, where's Bill's clock?" she asked.
"Oh, Bill's clock is in the Lord's office," said Saint Peter. "He's using it for a ceiling fan."
Hillary Clinton died and went to heaven. Saint Peter met her at the Pearly Gates, and she saw a wall of clocks behind him.
"What are all those clocks?" she asked.
"Those are the Lie-Clocks," he answered. "Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you tell a lie the hands on your clock move."
"Oh," said Hilary. "Whose clock is that?"
"That's Mother Teresa's clock," said Saint Peter. "The hands on that clock have never moved, because she has never told a single lie."
"Wow," said Hilary. "Whose clock is that?"
"That's Abraham Lincoln's clock," replied Saint Peter. "See, the hands on that clock have only moved twice. Abe only told two lies in his whole life."
Hillary was really impressed. "But, where's Bill's clock?" she asked.
"Oh, Bill's clock is in the Lord's office," said Saint Peter. "He's using it for a ceiling fan."
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Please Bug Me
By Gale Ashcroft
Once upon a time there was a big old bullfrog that lived in a beautiful pond surrounded by tall bulrushes and full of lush, green lily pads. It was a wonderful place to live.
Now, this particular frog had lived to be very old because he was blessed with extraordinary hearing. Because his hearing was so good he had escaped being eaten until he had grown very big and very old. In fact, he was so big that he didn’t have to worry about being eaten by birds anymore. The only things that could eat him now were snakes, and he could always tell when a snake was coming because he could hear it rustling in the bulrushes, and then he would hide.
Day after day this big old bull frog sat on a lily pad in the middle of the pond and listened
for the rustling of the bulrushes. Of course, sometimes the wind would blow through the rushes, and then the bullfrog would hide unnecessarily, but at least he was safe. The problem was, since he no longer had to watch out for birds swooping down to eat him he had a lot of extra time on his hands, and he began to get bored and grumpy.
Now there were lots of other frogs that lived in this pond, and many bugs. Every one of them made a different kind of noise, and it really began to annoy the old bullfrog. First it was the crickets chirping that made him cross. The more he listened to hear the rushes rustle, the louder the crickets chirped. "Be quite!" the frog would croak, and for a little while the crickets would be still, but pretty soon they couldn’t help themselves and they would start to chirp again. Then the cicadas would hum and the bees would buzz, and even the lady bugs made their own kind of sounds. It drove the bullfrog crazy!
"Stop making so much noise!" he croaked, "I can’t hear if the bulrushes are rustling!" But of course the bugs couldn’t stay quiet forever, and the bullfrog got crankier and crankier.
One day he was totally fed up with all the noise in his pond. He was hopping up and down on one of the big lily pads, shouting at the bugs, when a great big heron flew over his pond and landed in a tree at the edge of the water. He watched the bullfrog jumping with interest, wondering if his beak could open wide enough to swallow him. He realized that the frog was too big, but he still found it entertaining watching the frog have a hissy fit. Finally, when the bullfrog stopped to catch his breath, the heron called down to him.
"What are you making all that fuss about?" the heron asked. "You look pretty stupid jumping up and down on that lily pad, you know."
The bullfrog looked up and glared at the heron. "What do you mean I look stupid?" he croaked. "I’m trying to keep these darned bugs quiet down here. They’re driving me crazy, and they’re so noisy I can’t listen to hear if a snake is coming."
The heron cocked his head on one side and listened to the bugs chirping and buzzing, then he shook his head. "They don’t sound very loud to me, at least not any louder than usual. You need to back off and leave them alone."
"Back off!" roared the frog. "What do you mean I need to back off? I’m not the one making all this racket! I’m just doing my job listening for snakes. It’s these bugs that are the problem!"
"You’d be amazed," the heron replied wisely. "You’re best friends are usually the folks who bug you the most." Then he lifted his wings and gracefully soared into the blue sky.
"You’re crazy," muttered the frog as he watched the heron fly away. "I hate these bugs and won’t be happy until they are all far away from here." So he kept on yelling and screaming at the bugs until finally they did all move away to a different, nicer pond.
You might think the frog would have been happy then, but he wasn’t. Now when he sat on his lily pad listening for the bulrushes to rustle all he could hear were the other frogs, croaking and splashing around in the water, and that started to drive him crazy!
"Shut up!" he croaked at the frogs, but they didn’t of course. Day after day the old bullfrog got crankier and crankier, and to tell you the truth, day after day the other frogs got tireder and tireder of being yelled at, until finally they too, decided to go find a nicer pond in which to live.
At last the bullfrog had the pond all to himself. "Now, that’s better," he thought. "That dumb old heron didn’t know a thing about what he was saying. None of those folks that were bugging me were my friends at all."
So, the bullfrog sat in the middle of his lily pond and listened for the bulrushes to rustle, and he listened, and he listened. Usually he didn’t hear a thing, but once in a while a breeze would come up, and then the bullfrog would jump into his pond and hide. After a while, since he didn’t have to listen hard because there were no other sounds to distract him, that old bullfrog began to get used to hearing the rushes rustling in the breeze, and it stopped scaring him. In fact, he got so used to hearing that one sound that he would doze off and not even wake up when the wind began to blow through the rushes.
One day, a great big old snake slithered up to the lily pond. He made a horrible noise gliding through the bulrushes, but the frog was sound asleep and he didn’t even notice. The snake saw the old frog sitting out there in the middle of the pond, and he slid right into the water and swam up next to the bullfrog, but still the frog slept. Just as the snake lifted his head out of the water the bullfrog opened his eyes, and as the snake gulped him down the frog thought, "Man! I wish there had been someone around to keep me awake!" Then he remembered the heron’s words, and finally understood that the folks who bugged him the most actually had been his best friends, after all.
Once upon a time there was a big old bullfrog that lived in a beautiful pond surrounded by tall bulrushes and full of lush, green lily pads. It was a wonderful place to live.
Now, this particular frog had lived to be very old because he was blessed with extraordinary hearing. Because his hearing was so good he had escaped being eaten until he had grown very big and very old. In fact, he was so big that he didn’t have to worry about being eaten by birds anymore. The only things that could eat him now were snakes, and he could always tell when a snake was coming because he could hear it rustling in the bulrushes, and then he would hide.
Day after day this big old bull frog sat on a lily pad in the middle of the pond and listened
for the rustling of the bulrushes. Of course, sometimes the wind would blow through the rushes, and then the bullfrog would hide unnecessarily, but at least he was safe. The problem was, since he no longer had to watch out for birds swooping down to eat him he had a lot of extra time on his hands, and he began to get bored and grumpy.
Now there were lots of other frogs that lived in this pond, and many bugs. Every one of them made a different kind of noise, and it really began to annoy the old bullfrog. First it was the crickets chirping that made him cross. The more he listened to hear the rushes rustle, the louder the crickets chirped. "Be quite!" the frog would croak, and for a little while the crickets would be still, but pretty soon they couldn’t help themselves and they would start to chirp again. Then the cicadas would hum and the bees would buzz, and even the lady bugs made their own kind of sounds. It drove the bullfrog crazy!
"Stop making so much noise!" he croaked, "I can’t hear if the bulrushes are rustling!" But of course the bugs couldn’t stay quiet forever, and the bullfrog got crankier and crankier.
One day he was totally fed up with all the noise in his pond. He was hopping up and down on one of the big lily pads, shouting at the bugs, when a great big heron flew over his pond and landed in a tree at the edge of the water. He watched the bullfrog jumping with interest, wondering if his beak could open wide enough to swallow him. He realized that the frog was too big, but he still found it entertaining watching the frog have a hissy fit. Finally, when the bullfrog stopped to catch his breath, the heron called down to him.
"What are you making all that fuss about?" the heron asked. "You look pretty stupid jumping up and down on that lily pad, you know."
The bullfrog looked up and glared at the heron. "What do you mean I look stupid?" he croaked. "I’m trying to keep these darned bugs quiet down here. They’re driving me crazy, and they’re so noisy I can’t listen to hear if a snake is coming."
The heron cocked his head on one side and listened to the bugs chirping and buzzing, then he shook his head. "They don’t sound very loud to me, at least not any louder than usual. You need to back off and leave them alone."
"Back off!" roared the frog. "What do you mean I need to back off? I’m not the one making all this racket! I’m just doing my job listening for snakes. It’s these bugs that are the problem!"
"You’d be amazed," the heron replied wisely. "You’re best friends are usually the folks who bug you the most." Then he lifted his wings and gracefully soared into the blue sky.
"You’re crazy," muttered the frog as he watched the heron fly away. "I hate these bugs and won’t be happy until they are all far away from here." So he kept on yelling and screaming at the bugs until finally they did all move away to a different, nicer pond.
You might think the frog would have been happy then, but he wasn’t. Now when he sat on his lily pad listening for the bulrushes to rustle all he could hear were the other frogs, croaking and splashing around in the water, and that started to drive him crazy!
"Shut up!" he croaked at the frogs, but they didn’t of course. Day after day the old bullfrog got crankier and crankier, and to tell you the truth, day after day the other frogs got tireder and tireder of being yelled at, until finally they too, decided to go find a nicer pond in which to live.
At last the bullfrog had the pond all to himself. "Now, that’s better," he thought. "That dumb old heron didn’t know a thing about what he was saying. None of those folks that were bugging me were my friends at all."
So, the bullfrog sat in the middle of his lily pond and listened for the bulrushes to rustle, and he listened, and he listened. Usually he didn’t hear a thing, but once in a while a breeze would come up, and then the bullfrog would jump into his pond and hide. After a while, since he didn’t have to listen hard because there were no other sounds to distract him, that old bullfrog began to get used to hearing the rushes rustling in the breeze, and it stopped scaring him. In fact, he got so used to hearing that one sound that he would doze off and not even wake up when the wind began to blow through the rushes.
One day, a great big old snake slithered up to the lily pond. He made a horrible noise gliding through the bulrushes, but the frog was sound asleep and he didn’t even notice. The snake saw the old frog sitting out there in the middle of the pond, and he slid right into the water and swam up next to the bullfrog, but still the frog slept. Just as the snake lifted his head out of the water the bullfrog opened his eyes, and as the snake gulped him down the frog thought, "Man! I wish there had been someone around to keep me awake!" Then he remembered the heron’s words, and finally understood that the folks who bugged him the most actually had been his best friends, after all.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Where's Disneyland?
It's a beautiful day today! The sun is shining, the air is clear, it's not too cold and it feels like it's going to be nice and warm this afternoon. It's the kind of day that makes me feel like going somewhere, or doing something fun! Like going to Disneyland! (I always think of that when I feel like doing something fun. Wouldn't it be great if we could really do it?) Anyway, days like today remind me of a story one of my students told me the last time I substituted at the Junior High.
Once upon a time two sisters decided to take a vacation and go to Disneyland. The girls lived in Arizona, so they figured if they left early in the morning they could drive over and get to the park just as it was opening, spend the day, and drive back late that night.
The sisters packed their car with goodies and drinks, set their alarm for 4:00 am, and went to bed early the night before they were going to leave. Early the next morning, when their alarm went off, they both quickly dressed, brushed their teeth, put on their makeup, and tied their long golden hair (one sister's hair was the color of melted butter, the other sister had hair that shown like honey) into quick pony-tails. Happily they kissed their sleepy parents goodby, grabbed their purses, and hopped into their car to begin their exciting day.
Their drive across the dessert was uneventful. The sun rose as they crossed the Colorado River and they entered California. The girls got an early breakfast in Indigo, and their excitement mounted higher and higher as they drive through the rolling hills on the outskirts of the great cities along the pacific coast of California.
They realized it would be a good idea to stop and get gas before they actually entered the city, and thought they should ask for some directions at the same time, so the two sisters pulled off the highway and found a gas station about 8:00. Pony-tails bouncing, they both hurried up to the counter after pumping the gas. Smiling and laughing, they asked the young man behind the register for driving directions to Disneyland. He grinned back at the two blonds and proceeded to give them detailed instructions on which exits to take and what signs to watch for to get them into Anneheim.
"Once you get close, just follow the signs," he told them. "They have the roads well marked to Disneyland."
"Thanks," the girls both chorused, then with a final grin and a wave they jumped into their car and headed back to the highway and the final leg of their journey.
It was hard negotiating the jumble of freeways and morning traffic, but eventually they found themselves within the city of Annaheim, and they began seeing signs for Disneyland. Now their excitement could hardly be contained, but they drove carefully and watched the freeway, until at last they approached the final sign giving directions to Disneyland.
"Disneyland, left," the sign read. With horror the two girls looked at each other, then in resignation the sister driving drove off the freeway, turned their car around, and they went home.
(They were blonds. Get it?)
Once upon a time two sisters decided to take a vacation and go to Disneyland. The girls lived in Arizona, so they figured if they left early in the morning they could drive over and get to the park just as it was opening, spend the day, and drive back late that night.
The sisters packed their car with goodies and drinks, set their alarm for 4:00 am, and went to bed early the night before they were going to leave. Early the next morning, when their alarm went off, they both quickly dressed, brushed their teeth, put on their makeup, and tied their long golden hair (one sister's hair was the color of melted butter, the other sister had hair that shown like honey) into quick pony-tails. Happily they kissed their sleepy parents goodby, grabbed their purses, and hopped into their car to begin their exciting day.
Their drive across the dessert was uneventful. The sun rose as they crossed the Colorado River and they entered California. The girls got an early breakfast in Indigo, and their excitement mounted higher and higher as they drive through the rolling hills on the outskirts of the great cities along the pacific coast of California.
They realized it would be a good idea to stop and get gas before they actually entered the city, and thought they should ask for some directions at the same time, so the two sisters pulled off the highway and found a gas station about 8:00. Pony-tails bouncing, they both hurried up to the counter after pumping the gas. Smiling and laughing, they asked the young man behind the register for driving directions to Disneyland. He grinned back at the two blonds and proceeded to give them detailed instructions on which exits to take and what signs to watch for to get them into Anneheim.
"Once you get close, just follow the signs," he told them. "They have the roads well marked to Disneyland."
"Thanks," the girls both chorused, then with a final grin and a wave they jumped into their car and headed back to the highway and the final leg of their journey.
It was hard negotiating the jumble of freeways and morning traffic, but eventually they found themselves within the city of Annaheim, and they began seeing signs for Disneyland. Now their excitement could hardly be contained, but they drove carefully and watched the freeway, until at last they approached the final sign giving directions to Disneyland.
"Disneyland, left," the sign read. With horror the two girls looked at each other, then in resignation the sister driving drove off the freeway, turned their car around, and they went home.
(They were blonds. Get it?)
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The Fisherman and the Magic Fish
Today is Mardi Gras. We didn't celebrate this holiday when I was young, the only thing I knew about it was that it sounded kind of wild, until I looked it up this year and found out what it was all about. Did you know that Mardi Gras translates literally into Fat Tuesday? That title describes the holiday perfectly, because today is the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, the day when Catholics begin Lent, the season when they give up something important to them in order to become closer to God. Often what they give up is rich, fatty food. So the day before they deny themselves they live it up, eating as much decadent food as they can.
When I first learned this I'm ashamed to admit I was quite disdainful. "Shame on them," I thought. "Here you are, trying to get closer to God, so you act badly first." Then I remembered the way my own kids, and I, myself, when I was a girl, act the night before Fast Sunday. As soon as they realize that tomorrow is Fast Day they begin looking around to see what they can find to eat today. I suppose it's human nature. We all tend to be hoarders when faced with an upcoming shortage.
One of my favorite stories as a girl was Heidi. Some day I'll tell the whole story, but for now, remember how when she lived in the rich house in Frankfurt Heidi put her soft, white dinner rolls into her pocket every evening at supper, then carefully hid them in a pile at the back of her closet? She wanted to save them for Peter's blind grandmother who had such a hard time eating the hard, black bread at home. In the end, Heidi was left with a pile of stale old rolls that were so hard the grandmother couldn't have eaten them anyway. Heidi was a sweetheart, and she was thinking about someone else, and eventually everything worked out OK. Not so for another story I loved as a kid.
The Fisherman and the Magic Fish
One day an old fisherman was down at the sea, fishing. He threw out his line, and when he pulled it in he discovered a beautiful fish on the end. But this was no ordinary fish. As the fisherman reached to take it out of the water the fish opened his mouth and spoke.
"Kind fisherman," the magic fish said, "if you will throw me back into the ocean I will grant you any wish your heart desires."
The fisherman was astonished to hear the fish talk. He didn't want to kill such a wonderful creature, so he quickly unhooked the fish and threw it back into the ocean. Immediately the fish swam close to the shore, and sticking his head out of the water he said, "Thank you so much for giving me my life, fisherman. Now I will give you your wish. What would you like?"
The fisherman hadn't really thought about anything he wanted. He was quite content with life the way it was, but he remembered how hard his wife worked keeping things going in their little hut, so he said, "Magic fish, if you can, it would be nice for my wife to have a nice little cottage to live in instead of the hut we have now."
"Go home, then," said the magic fish. "You will find what you deserve."
The fisherman turned around and went home. There, instead of the old hut, he found a delightful little cottage. It was pretty and new, with flowers in front and a garden in back. Chickens pecked happily in the yard, and he heard a cow mooing in the back. The fisherman was delighted. "What a wonderful place to live," he thought. But then the door opened and his wife came out with a frustrated look on her face.
"Where on earth have you been," she demanded? "I have been waiting and waiting for you to come home! And where is the fish you were going to catch for our supper?"
The fisherman looked at his wife in surprise, but he sheepishly answered, "Why, wife, I caught a fish, but I let it go. It said it was a magic fish, and if I saved his life he would grant me anything I wanted. And see, just look at this little cottage we have now. Doesn't it make you happy?"
"Happy," shouted the wife. "Of course it doesn't make me happy! If the fish said you could have anything you wanted why didn't you ask for something better than this tiny little cottage? You go back down to sea and ask that fish for something nicer than this!"
"Oh wife," the fisherman hesitated. "Surely this is enough. I don't want to make the fish angry."
"He won't be angry," the wife demanded. "The magic fish told you you could have anything you wanted. Now go and ask for something worthwhile."
So the poor fisherman turned around and went back down to the sea. The water wasn't as smooth and glassy as before, but he stood on the shore and called, "Magic fish of the sea, oh Magic fish of the sea, my wife wants me to ask for something else."
Pretty soon the magic fish swam up to the shore and asked, "So what is it your wife wants, fisherman?"
"I'm sorry to ask for more," the fisherman began, "but my wife says if you promised to give me anything I want I should have asked for something better than a cottage."
"How about a fine mansion?" the fish asked.
"Oh my," the fisherman replied. "That would be wonderful!"
"Then go home," the magic fish told him.
So the fisherman turned around and went home. There, instead of the lovely little cottage, he found a fine mansion. It had beautiful parks and trees all around it, and a servant was waiting at the door when he came in. Inside the rooms were big and finely decorated, but the fisherman found his wife standing in the great hall with a scowl on her face.
"What is the matter, wife?" the fisherman asked. "Isn't this the finest mansion you could ever have imagined? Wasn't it nice of the magic fish to give it to us?"
"No, it is not nice," the wife answered crossly. "Why did you just ask for just a mansion? I want a castle. You go back down to the ocean and tell the fish I want to have a castle and kingdom."
"Oh, I can't do that," the fisherman pleaded. "Surely this mansion is good enough for us."
But his wife insisted, so finally the poor fisherman turned around and went back down to the sea. Now the wind was blowing and the sea was dark and choppy. The fisherman stood on the shore and called out, "Magic fish of the sea, Magic fish of the sea. Please come talk to me. My wife says she wants a castle and a kingdom instead of a mansion."
The fish swam up to the shore and poked his head out of the water. "Why didn't she ask for that to begin with?" he asked impatiently.
"I'm sorry," replied the fisherman. "But we really do appreciate all you have done for us."
"Go home then," said the fish. "You will find what your wife wants."
The fisherman went home, and sure enough, there he found a magnificent castle with footmen and guards standing at attention. When he entered he saw his wife standing on the marble floor, looking around in anger."
"You call this a castle?" she shouted as soon as she saw her husband. "Why, even the King of France has a better castle than this. I don't want just any castle, I want the finest palace in all the world. You go back down to the ocean and tell that fish I want to be the emperor of the whole world!"
"I can't do that," exclaimed the poor fisherman in horror. "Come, wife. You have a magnificent castle and a kingdom! I can't possibly go and ask the fish to make you the emperor of the world!"
But his wife would have none of it. She shouted and screamed at the poor fisherman until finally in terror he left and walked back down to the sea.
Now the sky was black and cloudy. Huge waves crashed upon the shore and the wind howled. The fisherman stood on the bank and called, "Magic fish of the sea, Magic fish of the sea. I am sorry to call you back, but my wife wants to be the emperor of the entire world."
The fish swam up to the shore and stuck his head above the waves. "She wants to be the emperor now, does she?" he asked. "Well, you go back home, fisherman. Your wife has what she deserves."
The fisherman turned around and walked slowly back to his home. There he discovered his wife, sitting on a rock outside of their old hut, exactly where she deserved to be.
When I first learned this I'm ashamed to admit I was quite disdainful. "Shame on them," I thought. "Here you are, trying to get closer to God, so you act badly first." Then I remembered the way my own kids, and I, myself, when I was a girl, act the night before Fast Sunday. As soon as they realize that tomorrow is Fast Day they begin looking around to see what they can find to eat today. I suppose it's human nature. We all tend to be hoarders when faced with an upcoming shortage.
One of my favorite stories as a girl was Heidi. Some day I'll tell the whole story, but for now, remember how when she lived in the rich house in Frankfurt Heidi put her soft, white dinner rolls into her pocket every evening at supper, then carefully hid them in a pile at the back of her closet? She wanted to save them for Peter's blind grandmother who had such a hard time eating the hard, black bread at home. In the end, Heidi was left with a pile of stale old rolls that were so hard the grandmother couldn't have eaten them anyway. Heidi was a sweetheart, and she was thinking about someone else, and eventually everything worked out OK. Not so for another story I loved as a kid.
The Fisherman and the Magic Fish
One day an old fisherman was down at the sea, fishing. He threw out his line, and when he pulled it in he discovered a beautiful fish on the end. But this was no ordinary fish. As the fisherman reached to take it out of the water the fish opened his mouth and spoke.
"Kind fisherman," the magic fish said, "if you will throw me back into the ocean I will grant you any wish your heart desires."
The fisherman was astonished to hear the fish talk. He didn't want to kill such a wonderful creature, so he quickly unhooked the fish and threw it back into the ocean. Immediately the fish swam close to the shore, and sticking his head out of the water he said, "Thank you so much for giving me my life, fisherman. Now I will give you your wish. What would you like?"
The fisherman hadn't really thought about anything he wanted. He was quite content with life the way it was, but he remembered how hard his wife worked keeping things going in their little hut, so he said, "Magic fish, if you can, it would be nice for my wife to have a nice little cottage to live in instead of the hut we have now."
"Go home, then," said the magic fish. "You will find what you deserve."
The fisherman turned around and went home. There, instead of the old hut, he found a delightful little cottage. It was pretty and new, with flowers in front and a garden in back. Chickens pecked happily in the yard, and he heard a cow mooing in the back. The fisherman was delighted. "What a wonderful place to live," he thought. But then the door opened and his wife came out with a frustrated look on her face.
"Where on earth have you been," she demanded? "I have been waiting and waiting for you to come home! And where is the fish you were going to catch for our supper?"
The fisherman looked at his wife in surprise, but he sheepishly answered, "Why, wife, I caught a fish, but I let it go. It said it was a magic fish, and if I saved his life he would grant me anything I wanted. And see, just look at this little cottage we have now. Doesn't it make you happy?"
"Happy," shouted the wife. "Of course it doesn't make me happy! If the fish said you could have anything you wanted why didn't you ask for something better than this tiny little cottage? You go back down to sea and ask that fish for something nicer than this!"
"Oh wife," the fisherman hesitated. "Surely this is enough. I don't want to make the fish angry."
"He won't be angry," the wife demanded. "The magic fish told you you could have anything you wanted. Now go and ask for something worthwhile."
So the poor fisherman turned around and went back down to the sea. The water wasn't as smooth and glassy as before, but he stood on the shore and called, "Magic fish of the sea, oh Magic fish of the sea, my wife wants me to ask for something else."
Pretty soon the magic fish swam up to the shore and asked, "So what is it your wife wants, fisherman?"
"I'm sorry to ask for more," the fisherman began, "but my wife says if you promised to give me anything I want I should have asked for something better than a cottage."
"How about a fine mansion?" the fish asked.
"Oh my," the fisherman replied. "That would be wonderful!"
"Then go home," the magic fish told him.
So the fisherman turned around and went home. There, instead of the lovely little cottage, he found a fine mansion. It had beautiful parks and trees all around it, and a servant was waiting at the door when he came in. Inside the rooms were big and finely decorated, but the fisherman found his wife standing in the great hall with a scowl on her face.
"What is the matter, wife?" the fisherman asked. "Isn't this the finest mansion you could ever have imagined? Wasn't it nice of the magic fish to give it to us?"
"No, it is not nice," the wife answered crossly. "Why did you just ask for just a mansion? I want a castle. You go back down to the ocean and tell the fish I want to have a castle and kingdom."
"Oh, I can't do that," the fisherman pleaded. "Surely this mansion is good enough for us."
But his wife insisted, so finally the poor fisherman turned around and went back down to the sea. Now the wind was blowing and the sea was dark and choppy. The fisherman stood on the shore and called out, "Magic fish of the sea, Magic fish of the sea. Please come talk to me. My wife says she wants a castle and a kingdom instead of a mansion."
The fish swam up to the shore and poked his head out of the water. "Why didn't she ask for that to begin with?" he asked impatiently.
"I'm sorry," replied the fisherman. "But we really do appreciate all you have done for us."
"Go home then," said the fish. "You will find what your wife wants."
The fisherman went home, and sure enough, there he found a magnificent castle with footmen and guards standing at attention. When he entered he saw his wife standing on the marble floor, looking around in anger."
"You call this a castle?" she shouted as soon as she saw her husband. "Why, even the King of France has a better castle than this. I don't want just any castle, I want the finest palace in all the world. You go back down to the ocean and tell that fish I want to be the emperor of the whole world!"
"I can't do that," exclaimed the poor fisherman in horror. "Come, wife. You have a magnificent castle and a kingdom! I can't possibly go and ask the fish to make you the emperor of the world!"
But his wife would have none of it. She shouted and screamed at the poor fisherman until finally in terror he left and walked back down to the sea.
Now the sky was black and cloudy. Huge waves crashed upon the shore and the wind howled. The fisherman stood on the bank and called, "Magic fish of the sea, Magic fish of the sea. I am sorry to call you back, but my wife wants to be the emperor of the entire world."
The fish swam up to the shore and stuck his head above the waves. "She wants to be the emperor now, does she?" he asked. "Well, you go back home, fisherman. Your wife has what she deserves."
The fisherman turned around and walked slowly back to his home. There he discovered his wife, sitting on a rock outside of their old hut, exactly where she deserved to be.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Abraham Lincoln, my hero
As today is Presidents day, I thought I'd tell a couple stories about Abraham Lincoln. As a child he was one of my heros, and as an American History Teacher he was my favorite president to learn about, and then to teach about. I think it's a shame we don't spend more time delving into the character of great men. We could learn much more from who they were than what they did.
Abraham Lincoln had charity. Remember the scriptures that tell us what charity is: meek, kind, long suffering, not puffed up, seeketh not her own? Two simple stories I'll never forget about Lincoln set that example for me, which I try to follow.
Abraham Lincoln was married to Mary Todd. She was a good woman, and he loved her dearly, but she had a fiery temper which she often lost when dealing with her husband. They came from two different worlds, and sometimes the things Mary felt were extraordinarily important Lincoln didn't really care about. His homespun manners offended her, she hated it when he answered the door in shirtsleeves or greeted guests in shabby carpet slippers. It especially bothered her when he littered her front room with papers and books. When Mary lost her temper the neighbors heard her. She would scream and shout, but Lincoln would not argue back. He would simply open the door and walk out of the house, giving Mary a chance to calm down while he went for a walk.
Another story that I loved happened while Lincoln was President. If I remember right, his Secretary of State, who did not always approve of what Lincoln did, once said Lincoln was a fool. Reporters picked up on this and plastered it all across the newspapers. Expecting fireworks, they quickly descended on the president, wanting to see what his reply would be. When they asked Lincoln what he thought about Sewards comments, he looked at them for a few moments, then said something like, "Did Mr. Seward really say that? Well, I've known him for a long time, and he's never been wrong about anything, so if he says I'm a fool, I probably am."
Abraham Lincoln had charity. Remember the scriptures that tell us what charity is: meek, kind, long suffering, not puffed up, seeketh not her own? Two simple stories I'll never forget about Lincoln set that example for me, which I try to follow.
Abraham Lincoln was married to Mary Todd. She was a good woman, and he loved her dearly, but she had a fiery temper which she often lost when dealing with her husband. They came from two different worlds, and sometimes the things Mary felt were extraordinarily important Lincoln didn't really care about. His homespun manners offended her, she hated it when he answered the door in shirtsleeves or greeted guests in shabby carpet slippers. It especially bothered her when he littered her front room with papers and books. When Mary lost her temper the neighbors heard her. She would scream and shout, but Lincoln would not argue back. He would simply open the door and walk out of the house, giving Mary a chance to calm down while he went for a walk.
Another story that I loved happened while Lincoln was President. If I remember right, his Secretary of State, who did not always approve of what Lincoln did, once said Lincoln was a fool. Reporters picked up on this and plastered it all across the newspapers. Expecting fireworks, they quickly descended on the president, wanting to see what his reply would be. When they asked Lincoln what he thought about Sewards comments, he looked at them for a few moments, then said something like, "Did Mr. Seward really say that? Well, I've known him for a long time, and he's never been wrong about anything, so if he says I'm a fool, I probably am."
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Everything Will Be OK
A couple of weeks ago I heard a sister bear her testimony in church. She told about a fellow she knew who lost his job and was out of work for a long time. Eventually he found another job, but he said he wished he'd known everything would be ok, because he would have taken advantage of the time off to play with his kids and spend time with his wife, and just enjoy the freedom he had instead of worrying.
Then she told about a friend who had spent ten years trying to have a family. Eventually she and her husband adopted, but this lady said she sure wished she'd known everything would turn out ok, because she and her husband wasted those ten years worrying about having children. If only she'd known they would end up with a wonderful family they could have enjoyed those years of sleeping through the night uninterupted and being able to go out whenever they wanted.
Then this sweet sister told about herself. She said she had been going through some difficult times, and one evening she was kneeling beside her bed, pouring her heart out to the Lord. She asked him if he could please just assure her that everything would be ok. A sweet feeling of peace came over her and and it was as if she felt the words, "I love you. Trust me, I'm in control. You know in the end everthing will be ok."
It's funny, isn't it, that sometimes we forget whose plan this really is.and to trust Him and just enjoy the journey.
Then she told about a friend who had spent ten years trying to have a family. Eventually she and her husband adopted, but this lady said she sure wished she'd known everything would turn out ok, because she and her husband wasted those ten years worrying about having children. If only she'd known they would end up with a wonderful family they could have enjoyed those years of sleeping through the night uninterupted and being able to go out whenever they wanted.
Then this sweet sister told about herself. She said she had been going through some difficult times, and one evening she was kneeling beside her bed, pouring her heart out to the Lord. She asked him if he could please just assure her that everything would be ok. A sweet feeling of peace came over her and and it was as if she felt the words, "I love you. Trust me, I'm in control. You know in the end everthing will be ok."
It's funny, isn't it, that sometimes we forget whose plan this really is.and to trust Him and just enjoy the journey.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
My Drivers License?
Did you ever hear the story about the blond who got a new sports car? It was so cool! It was shiny red, it was sleek, it was expensive, and it was fast! As soon as she got it the blond took it out for a drive. She cruised down the city streets, then out onto the open highway, going faster and faster and faster. Within a few minutes her speedometer was topping out at over a hundred miles an hour!
As the blond zipped down the road she passed a police car, waiting on the side of the highway. This particular cop was also a blond. She jerked her head up as the sportscar zoomed past. Quickly the cop pulled her car out onto the highway and chased the blond down. They pulled off onto the side of the road and the cop jumped out of her cruiser, slammed the door, and stalked over to the sportscar. She knocked on the window and told the blond to roll it down. Calmly the blond did.
The cop was furious. She put her head in the window and shouted, "What do you think you're doing? Do you know how fast you were going?"
The blond gave her an insolent look and said, "No."
The cop shouted at her, "You were going over a hundred miles an hour, lady! I'm going to give you a ticket!"
"Whatever," the blond replied.
Even angrier, the cop said, "Let me see your drivers license."
"My what?" asked the blond.
"Your drivers license," shouted the cop. "You know, the thing that says you have a right to drive a car."
"I don't know what that is," complained the blond lazily.
"Your drivers license! Your drivers license!" exploded the cop. "Come on! Look in your purse. Most women carry it in their purse. It's rectangle. It has your picture on it. Your drivers license!"
The blond lazily reached for her purse, opened it, and rummaged around. Eventually she found a little compact mirror inside. It was rectangle. When she looked at it she saw her picture on it.
The bond pulled out the mirror and handed it to the cop. "Is this it?" she asked the blond cop.
The cop looked in the mirror, looked back at the driver, then looked in the mirror again. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "I didn't know you were a policeman, too. Of course I won't give you a ticket."
As the blond zipped down the road she passed a police car, waiting on the side of the highway. This particular cop was also a blond. She jerked her head up as the sportscar zoomed past. Quickly the cop pulled her car out onto the highway and chased the blond down. They pulled off onto the side of the road and the cop jumped out of her cruiser, slammed the door, and stalked over to the sportscar. She knocked on the window and told the blond to roll it down. Calmly the blond did.
The cop was furious. She put her head in the window and shouted, "What do you think you're doing? Do you know how fast you were going?"
The blond gave her an insolent look and said, "No."
The cop shouted at her, "You were going over a hundred miles an hour, lady! I'm going to give you a ticket!"
"Whatever," the blond replied.
Even angrier, the cop said, "Let me see your drivers license."
"My what?" asked the blond.
"Your drivers license," shouted the cop. "You know, the thing that says you have a right to drive a car."
"I don't know what that is," complained the blond lazily.
"Your drivers license! Your drivers license!" exploded the cop. "Come on! Look in your purse. Most women carry it in their purse. It's rectangle. It has your picture on it. Your drivers license!"
The blond lazily reached for her purse, opened it, and rummaged around. Eventually she found a little compact mirror inside. It was rectangle. When she looked at it she saw her picture on it.
The bond pulled out the mirror and handed it to the cop. "Is this it?" she asked the blond cop.
The cop looked in the mirror, looked back at the driver, then looked in the mirror again. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "I didn't know you were a policeman, too. Of course I won't give you a ticket."
Friday, February 17, 2012
The Story of Little Whitie
I don't feel good today. I've had a cold all week, and it's been hard to make myself do anything. Mostly I've just laid around on the couch. In my head, though, underneath the stuffiness and the headache, I keep hearing my mother's words; "Most of the work of the world is done by people who don't feel good." She always said that, especially when I wanted to stay home from school. She also told us a story about little Whitie. It's my favorite, although my kids turn up their nose now when I tell it to the grandkids. They say it's kind of gross. Oh well.
One day Mother Grey Cat woke up bright and early and thought, "Hmmmm…I think I’m going to make a special surprise for my three little kittens. I’m going to make them blue-berry pancakes!"
So Mother Grey Cat went into the kitchen and began making breakfast. Pretty soon Flopsy and Mopsy came in and asked, "Mother Grey Cat! Are you making blue-berry pancakes for breakfast?"
"Yes I am, Flopsy and Mopsy." said Mother Grey Cat. "But where’s little Whitie? Why isn’t he with you?"
"Oh, Whitie must be sick", said Flopsy and Mopsy. "He’s still in bed."
Mother Grey Cat took off her apron and went down to the bedroom to see what was the matter with Little Whitie. Sure enough, she found him still in bed.
"Why,Little Whitie, what's the matter?" asked Mother Grey Cat. "Why are you still in bed?"
"I don’t know," said Whitie, "but my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
Mother Grey Cat felt Whitie’s head and said, "I think I’d better call Dr. Tom Cat and have him come over to take a look at you."
So she called Dr. Tom Cat, and pretty soon he came with his big black Dr.’s bag. When he saw Little Whitie he said, "Now Whitie, what is the matter?"
"I don’t know," said Whitie, "but my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
"Well, let’s see," said Dr. Tom Cat, and he listened to Whitey’s chest and looked down Whitey’s throat, and took his temperature, which was 209, which is very high for a kitten.
Then Dr. Tom Cat turned to Mother Grey Cat and said, "Mother Grey Cat. You have a very sick little kitten on your hands. I am going to write you a prescription and I want you to get it filled right away."
Dr. Tom Cat took out his prescription pad and wrote, "One Fresh Mouse Pie." Then he gave it to Mother Grey Cat and he went away, because he had to see lots more sick little kittens that day.
Mother Grey Cat read the prescription and decided she’d better go to the butcher’s right away so she could start making the pie. So she put on her hat and her coat and went down to the butchers.
When she got there she told the butcher she needed three mice, and they needed to be very fresh so she could make a fresh mouse pie for her little Whitie, who was so very sick.
The Butcher said, "Mother Grey Cat, you're in luck. I caught three mice just this morning." And he went to the back room to get them. He wrapped them up in brown butcher paper and Mother Grey Cat paid for them and took them home.
Then Mother Grey Cat started to make the pie. First she got out a big bowl and put in it some flour and shortening and water. She mixed it all up, then she put it on the counter so she could roll the dough out, like your mother does when she makes a pie. Mother Grey Cat put the dough in a pie pan and put the three little mice on it, curling their tails around them so they looked so cute! Then she rolled out the top part of the dough and put it over the mice, crinkling up the edges to make it pretty, like your mother does when she makes a pie. Last of all she made three holes in the top so the steam could come out, and through them you could see the mice’s eyes twinkling so prettily. Then she popped the pie into the oven.
Pretty soon that pie began to smell good. Flopsy and Mopsy came into the kitchen and said, "Oh Mother Grey Cat, are you making a mouse pie?"
"Yes I am, Flopsy and Mopsy," she said, "but I’m afraid it is all for poor little Whitie because he is so very sick."
When the pie was done Mother Grey Cat took it out of the oven and put it on the table to cool. Flopsy and Mopsy came back into the kitchen and said, "Mother Grey Cat, can’t we just have a little taste of that pie? It smells so good!"
"I’m sorry," said Mother Grey Cat, "but it is all for Whitie because he is so sick."
When the pie was ready Mother Grey Cat took it in to Whitie’s bedroom. He was still in bed. "How are you feeling, Little Whitie?" Mother Grey Cat asked.
"I don’t know," said Little Whitie. "But my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
"Well, I have something that will make you feel all better," said Mother Grey Cat. "A Fresh Mouse Pie!"
But Whitie took one look at it and said, "I don’t want any," and he turned over in his bed.
Now Mother Grey Cat was a very wise mother. She didn’t make Little Whitie eat that pie. She just got a chair and put it next to Whitie’s bed and put the pie on it. Then she went away.
Pretty soon Little Whitie began to smell that pie. Mmmmmmm, it smelled good! He thought, "I’ll just turn over and take a look at that pie." Mmmmmmmm, it looked good. So he said, "I’ll just take a little taste of that pie." Mmmmmmmm, it tasted good! So he took another, and another, and before he knew it that pie was all gone! Then Little Whitie felt so much better that he jumped out of bed and got dressed and went outside to play. And he wasn’t sick any more!
Little Whitie
One day Mother Grey Cat woke up bright and early and thought, "Hmmmm…I think I’m going to make a special surprise for my three little kittens. I’m going to make them blue-berry pancakes!"
So Mother Grey Cat went into the kitchen and began making breakfast. Pretty soon Flopsy and Mopsy came in and asked, "Mother Grey Cat! Are you making blue-berry pancakes for breakfast?"
"Yes I am, Flopsy and Mopsy." said Mother Grey Cat. "But where’s little Whitie? Why isn’t he with you?"
"Oh, Whitie must be sick", said Flopsy and Mopsy. "He’s still in bed."
Mother Grey Cat took off her apron and went down to the bedroom to see what was the matter with Little Whitie. Sure enough, she found him still in bed.
"Why,Little Whitie, what's the matter?" asked Mother Grey Cat. "Why are you still in bed?"
"I don’t know," said Whitie, "but my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
Mother Grey Cat felt Whitie’s head and said, "I think I’d better call Dr. Tom Cat and have him come over to take a look at you."
So she called Dr. Tom Cat, and pretty soon he came with his big black Dr.’s bag. When he saw Little Whitie he said, "Now Whitie, what is the matter?"
"I don’t know," said Whitie, "but my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
"Well, let’s see," said Dr. Tom Cat, and he listened to Whitey’s chest and looked down Whitey’s throat, and took his temperature, which was 209, which is very high for a kitten.
Then Dr. Tom Cat turned to Mother Grey Cat and said, "Mother Grey Cat. You have a very sick little kitten on your hands. I am going to write you a prescription and I want you to get it filled right away."
Dr. Tom Cat took out his prescription pad and wrote, "One Fresh Mouse Pie." Then he gave it to Mother Grey Cat and he went away, because he had to see lots more sick little kittens that day.
Mother Grey Cat read the prescription and decided she’d better go to the butcher’s right away so she could start making the pie. So she put on her hat and her coat and went down to the butchers.
When she got there she told the butcher she needed three mice, and they needed to be very fresh so she could make a fresh mouse pie for her little Whitie, who was so very sick.
The Butcher said, "Mother Grey Cat, you're in luck. I caught three mice just this morning." And he went to the back room to get them. He wrapped them up in brown butcher paper and Mother Grey Cat paid for them and took them home.
Then Mother Grey Cat started to make the pie. First she got out a big bowl and put in it some flour and shortening and water. She mixed it all up, then she put it on the counter so she could roll the dough out, like your mother does when she makes a pie. Mother Grey Cat put the dough in a pie pan and put the three little mice on it, curling their tails around them so they looked so cute! Then she rolled out the top part of the dough and put it over the mice, crinkling up the edges to make it pretty, like your mother does when she makes a pie. Last of all she made three holes in the top so the steam could come out, and through them you could see the mice’s eyes twinkling so prettily. Then she popped the pie into the oven.
Pretty soon that pie began to smell good. Flopsy and Mopsy came into the kitchen and said, "Oh Mother Grey Cat, are you making a mouse pie?"
"Yes I am, Flopsy and Mopsy," she said, "but I’m afraid it is all for poor little Whitie because he is so very sick."
When the pie was done Mother Grey Cat took it out of the oven and put it on the table to cool. Flopsy and Mopsy came back into the kitchen and said, "Mother Grey Cat, can’t we just have a little taste of that pie? It smells so good!"
"I’m sorry," said Mother Grey Cat, "but it is all for Whitie because he is so sick."
When the pie was ready Mother Grey Cat took it in to Whitie’s bedroom. He was still in bed. "How are you feeling, Little Whitie?" Mother Grey Cat asked.
"I don’t know," said Little Whitie. "But my nose is cold and my paws are hot and I ache all over."
"Well, I have something that will make you feel all better," said Mother Grey Cat. "A Fresh Mouse Pie!"
But Whitie took one look at it and said, "I don’t want any," and he turned over in his bed.
Now Mother Grey Cat was a very wise mother. She didn’t make Little Whitie eat that pie. She just got a chair and put it next to Whitie’s bed and put the pie on it. Then she went away.
Pretty soon Little Whitie began to smell that pie. Mmmmmmm, it smelled good! He thought, "I’ll just turn over and take a look at that pie." Mmmmmmmm, it looked good. So he said, "I’ll just take a little taste of that pie." Mmmmmmmm, it tasted good! So he took another, and another, and before he knew it that pie was all gone! Then Little Whitie felt so much better that he jumped out of bed and got dressed and went outside to play. And he wasn’t sick any more!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
One For Me, One For You
Did you ever hear the story about the two little boys who went to gather nuts? Their mothers asked them to go out one morning and each fill a pail full of walnuts. The first little boy told his friend that he knew where there was a huge old walnut tree with lots of nuts all around it. "We'll be able to fill our pails all the way full," he assured his friend.
So the two boys took off to find the big walnut tree, which happened to be growing inside the city cemetery. Now this particular cemetery had a wall all around it, so no one outside could see what was going on inside. The boys went inside the cemetery, and sure enough, there was a the biggest walnut tree either little fellow had ever seen. Happily they plopped down on the ground and began filling their buckets.
After a little while one little boy said to the other, "This isn't a very fair way to gather walnuts. You have lots more in your bucket than I have in mine."
The second little boy wanted to be fair, so he said, "I'll tell you what. Let's dump all the nuts out and start over. Then we'll put one in your bucket, and one in mine, so we'll have exactly the same." His friend thought that was a good idea, so they dumped both pails out and began again to divide up the walnuts.
"Here's one for you," the little boy put a nut in his friends bucket, "and one for me," and he put a nut in his. "One for you, one for me."
The two boys spent all morning carefully placing walnuts into their buckets. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." As they worked two walnuts rolled away from them and under the fence, but they decided they would wait and get them after they finished dividing the rest of the nuts.
In the meantime, another little boy was walking down the street on the other side of the fence. He heard voices coming from inside the cemetery, and listening closer, his eyes grew big and he turned and ran back up the street. Pretty soon he bumped into an elderly gentleman who was out for a stroll. Tugging on his sleeve the little boy exclaimed, "Mr., Mr., you've got to come hear this! The devil and the Lord are both inside the cemetery, and they are dividing up the souls!"
The elderly gentleman laughed and said, "No they're not." But the little boy insisted, tugging on the man's arm until he finally followed him down the street. As they approached the cemetery the little boy urged, "Listen, listen! You'll hear them!"
The old man listened, and sure enough, from inside the cemetery he heard the words, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."
The old man's eyes grew big and he looked at his young companion in astonishment.
Inside the cemetery the two boys were just finishing filling their pails. Standing up they dusted the dirt from their pants, and the one little boy said to the other, "Well, I guess we're through. Let's go get those two nuts out on the street, and then we can go home."
The elderly gentleman and the little boy looked at each other in horror, then turned and ran up the street as fast as they could go.
So the two boys took off to find the big walnut tree, which happened to be growing inside the city cemetery. Now this particular cemetery had a wall all around it, so no one outside could see what was going on inside. The boys went inside the cemetery, and sure enough, there was a the biggest walnut tree either little fellow had ever seen. Happily they plopped down on the ground and began filling their buckets.
After a little while one little boy said to the other, "This isn't a very fair way to gather walnuts. You have lots more in your bucket than I have in mine."
The second little boy wanted to be fair, so he said, "I'll tell you what. Let's dump all the nuts out and start over. Then we'll put one in your bucket, and one in mine, so we'll have exactly the same." His friend thought that was a good idea, so they dumped both pails out and began again to divide up the walnuts.
"Here's one for you," the little boy put a nut in his friends bucket, "and one for me," and he put a nut in his. "One for you, one for me."
The two boys spent all morning carefully placing walnuts into their buckets. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." As they worked two walnuts rolled away from them and under the fence, but they decided they would wait and get them after they finished dividing the rest of the nuts.
In the meantime, another little boy was walking down the street on the other side of the fence. He heard voices coming from inside the cemetery, and listening closer, his eyes grew big and he turned and ran back up the street. Pretty soon he bumped into an elderly gentleman who was out for a stroll. Tugging on his sleeve the little boy exclaimed, "Mr., Mr., you've got to come hear this! The devil and the Lord are both inside the cemetery, and they are dividing up the souls!"
The elderly gentleman laughed and said, "No they're not." But the little boy insisted, tugging on the man's arm until he finally followed him down the street. As they approached the cemetery the little boy urged, "Listen, listen! You'll hear them!"
The old man listened, and sure enough, from inside the cemetery he heard the words, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."
The old man's eyes grew big and he looked at his young companion in astonishment.
Inside the cemetery the two boys were just finishing filling their pails. Standing up they dusted the dirt from their pants, and the one little boy said to the other, "Well, I guess we're through. Let's go get those two nuts out on the street, and then we can go home."
The elderly gentleman and the little boy looked at each other in horror, then turned and ran up the street as fast as they could go.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
One Smart Blonde
Well, Valentines Day is over, and so is the 100th Birthday celebration for the State of Arizona. So what kind of stories should I tell you now? How about a story about a smart blond?
One day there was a blond and a lawyer who sat next to each other on a flight from New York to California. It was a long trip and the blond was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. On the other hand, the lawyer was pepped up and wanted to talk. He tried engaging the blond in conversation, but she politely refused and turned away to sleep. Undiscouraged, the lawyer tapped her on the shoulder and tried again.
"Lets play a game," he suggested. "I'll ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer you give me $5. Then you ask me a question and if I can't answer it I'll give you $5."
The blond rolled her eyes, then said, "No," and turned away.
"OK, how about this," the lawyer tried. "I'll ask you a question and if you can't answer it you give me $5, but when you ask me a question if I don't know the answer I'll give you $500." The lawyer figured the woman was a blond and there wouldn't be anything she could ask him that he couldn't answer.
Realizing that the man was not going to leave her alone until she played his stupid game, the blond finally agreed.
"Great!" the lawyer exclaimed. "OK. So how far is it from the moon to the earth?"
The blond didn't even try to figure it out. She reached in her purse, pulled out a $5 bill, handed it to the lawyer and turned over to go to sleep.
"Wait," the layer said. "Now it's your turn. Ask me a question."
The blond looked at him for a few seconds, sighed, then asked, "What goes up a mountain with four legs but comes down with three?"
"What goes up a mountain with four legs and comes down with three?" the lawyer repeated, perplexed. He got out his lap top and searched all of his references. He tapped into the Air phone with his modem and searched the Net and the Library of Congress. Frustrated, he sent E-mails to all of his coworkers and friends. Finally, after an hour, he woke up the blond and handed her a $500 bill.
The blond took the money, put it in her purse, then turned back to finish her nap. Frustrated, the lawyer shook her on the shoulder and woke her up. "You can't go to sleep," he demanded. "You've got to tell me. What goes up a mountain with four legs and comes down with three?"
Without a word, the blond reaches in her purse, pulls out a $5 bill, hands it to the lawyer, and goes back to sleep.
One day there was a blond and a lawyer who sat next to each other on a flight from New York to California. It was a long trip and the blond was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. On the other hand, the lawyer was pepped up and wanted to talk. He tried engaging the blond in conversation, but she politely refused and turned away to sleep. Undiscouraged, the lawyer tapped her on the shoulder and tried again.
"Lets play a game," he suggested. "I'll ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer you give me $5. Then you ask me a question and if I can't answer it I'll give you $5."
The blond rolled her eyes, then said, "No," and turned away.
"OK, how about this," the lawyer tried. "I'll ask you a question and if you can't answer it you give me $5, but when you ask me a question if I don't know the answer I'll give you $500." The lawyer figured the woman was a blond and there wouldn't be anything she could ask him that he couldn't answer.
Realizing that the man was not going to leave her alone until she played his stupid game, the blond finally agreed.
"Great!" the lawyer exclaimed. "OK. So how far is it from the moon to the earth?"
The blond didn't even try to figure it out. She reached in her purse, pulled out a $5 bill, handed it to the lawyer and turned over to go to sleep.
"Wait," the layer said. "Now it's your turn. Ask me a question."
The blond looked at him for a few seconds, sighed, then asked, "What goes up a mountain with four legs but comes down with three?"
"What goes up a mountain with four legs and comes down with three?" the lawyer repeated, perplexed. He got out his lap top and searched all of his references. He tapped into the Air phone with his modem and searched the Net and the Library of Congress. Frustrated, he sent E-mails to all of his coworkers and friends. Finally, after an hour, he woke up the blond and handed her a $500 bill.
The blond took the money, put it in her purse, then turned back to finish her nap. Frustrated, the lawyer shook her on the shoulder and woke her up. "You can't go to sleep," he demanded. "You've got to tell me. What goes up a mountain with four legs and comes down with three?"
Without a word, the blond reaches in her purse, pulls out a $5 bill, hands it to the lawyer, and goes back to sleep.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Valentines Day, and Happy Birthday Arizona
Did you know that today is not just Valentine's Day, it is also the 100th anniversary of Arizona becoming a state? I hope you're not disappointed, but I thought perhaps I'd tell you a story about that instead of a Valentine's tale.
At the beginning of 1912, Arizona held a statehood convention in Prescott. Cowboys, ranchers, farmers, miners, and pioneers had been moving into the territory for decades, and they wanted to be recognized as an independent state. Prescott, a rip roaring frontier town, had served as the territorial state capitol, but it was now time to decide where the permanent capitol would be. Delegates were sent from all over to decide which city would get the honors. By this time the choices had been narrowed down to either Phoenix or Tucson. During the day the delegates would meet in convention, but at night they would partake of the many diversions available on Whisky Row, Prescott's main street.
There was one particular delegate from Tucson who had a glass eye. He was quite vain and took great pains to insure that his disability did not stand out. On the night before the final vote deciding where the new state capitol would be, this particular delegate spent the evening carousing on Whisky Row. Early in the morning he returned to his hotel with a female companion. The delegate carefully took out his glass eye and put it in a glass of water on the table by his bed, like he always did. During the night the lady woke up thirsty, picked up the glass, and gulped it down, glass eye and all. Since the Tuscon delegate refused to be seen in public without his glass eye, his vote was never cast. The count was close, but Phoenix won by one vote, and that is why Phoenix is the capitol of Arizona. Or at least, that's what the old cowboys say.
At the beginning of 1912, Arizona held a statehood convention in Prescott. Cowboys, ranchers, farmers, miners, and pioneers had been moving into the territory for decades, and they wanted to be recognized as an independent state. Prescott, a rip roaring frontier town, had served as the territorial state capitol, but it was now time to decide where the permanent capitol would be. Delegates were sent from all over to decide which city would get the honors. By this time the choices had been narrowed down to either Phoenix or Tucson. During the day the delegates would meet in convention, but at night they would partake of the many diversions available on Whisky Row, Prescott's main street.
There was one particular delegate from Tucson who had a glass eye. He was quite vain and took great pains to insure that his disability did not stand out. On the night before the final vote deciding where the new state capitol would be, this particular delegate spent the evening carousing on Whisky Row. Early in the morning he returned to his hotel with a female companion. The delegate carefully took out his glass eye and put it in a glass of water on the table by his bed, like he always did. During the night the lady woke up thirsty, picked up the glass, and gulped it down, glass eye and all. Since the Tuscon delegate refused to be seen in public without his glass eye, his vote was never cast. The count was close, but Phoenix won by one vote, and that is why Phoenix is the capitol of Arizona. Or at least, that's what the old cowboys say.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Prince's Valentine
The Prince's Valentine
Author Unknown(based upon an old Indian story, thanks to apples4theteacher.com)
Once upon a time there was a little Prince, and he wanted to give a valentine to a little Princess who lived in a neighboring kingdom. She was a very beautiful little Princess indeed, for her smile was as bright as her golden hair, and her love for her subjects was as deep as the blue of her eyes.
"What kind of a valentine shall I get for the Princess?" the Prince asked.
"A heart, your Highness; nothing but a heart will do!" said the Court Wise Man.
"A beautiful heart, your Highness; nothing but a beautiful heart will do!" said the Court Ladies.
"A priceless heart, your Highness; nothing but a priceless heart will do!" said the Court Chancellor.
So the Prince started out to get a heart valentine for the little Princess that would be both beautiful and beyond price, and he did not know where to find it.
Before long, though, he came to a jeweller's shop that was full of pretty, costly things to wear. There were pins, and bracelets, and necklaces made of silver and gold, and set with rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds, and diamonds.
"This is the place to find a valentine for the little Princess," thought the Prince, and he selected a diamond heart hung on a gold chain as thin as a thread for the little Princess to wear about her neck.
The Prince gave the jeweller his bag of gold and started out of the shop with the diamond heart in his hand. But he stopped at the door, looking at the heart. It was dull, and no longer shining. What was the matter with it, he wondered. Then he remembered. It was not the right valentine for the little Princess because it had been bought with his bag of gold. So the Prince gave the diamond heart back to the jeweller, and went on again.
After the Prince had gone quite a distance he came to a pastry shop. It was full of delicious things to eat, jam tarts, and little strawberry pies, thickly frosted cakes, and plum buns. In the window of the pastry shop was a huge cake baked in the shape of a heart. It was rich with sugar and spices, and the icing on the top was almost as thick as the cake itself.
"This is the place to find the valentine for the little Princess!" thought the Prince, and he pointed to the great heart cake in the window. "How much must I pay for that cake?" he asked of the pastry cook.
"Oh, you could not buy that cake!" the pastry cook replied. "I made it as a decoration for the shop for Valentine's Day. But I will give it to you, your Highness."
So the Prince thanked the pastry cook, and started out of the shop with the great cake in his arms.
"This must surely be the valentine for the little Princess, because I could not buy it," he thought.
Then the Prince almost dropped the cake. It had suddenly grown too heavy for him to carry. What was the matter with the rich, huge cake, he wondered. Then he remembered. It was not the right valentine for the little Princess because something rich to eat is not beautiful. So the Prince gave the cake back to the pastry cook, and went on again.
Now he went a long, long way, and he came to a bird seller beside the road. He had little gold birds, and bright-colored ones in green basket cages. They were all singing as if their throats would burst, but the Prince could hear one soft note above the others, because it was so clear and sweet. It was the cooing of a little dove who sat in her cage apart from the others. The Prince thought he had never seen such a beautiful little dove, as white as snow, and with rose red feet.
"Why does she sing so much more sweetly than the others?" the Prince asked, pointing to the little white dove.
The bird seller smiled.
"She sings because of her heart," he said. "The other birds sing in the sunshine, but look"—he held up the dove's cage, and the Prince saw that the little white dove had closed, blind eyes. "She sings in the dark because of her happy heart," the bird seller said.
"May I buy her," the Prince asked, "to give as a valentine to a little Princess?"
"Oh, I will give her to you," the bird seller said. "Very few people want to take care of a blind bird."
But the little Princess did. She liked the white dove better than any of her other valentines. She hung her cage in a pink rose tree in the sunniest part of the garden, and she often invited the Prince to sit with her under the tree and listen to the dove's sweet song.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Big Jake
Big Jake
Big Jake was older and bigger than the other men who worked at the plant. He was also quieter. While the other guys joked and played, Jake stayed by himself. He didn’t go bowling on league night, he didn’t go fishing or hunting, and during dinner, when everyone ate at the big table in the lunch room, Jake took his old black lunch box down to the far end and ate alone. Perhaps this was why the other men teased him. It was all good natured, but he seemed to end up the butt of a lot of practical jokes.During the fall excitement ran high over the hunting season. Pete, Phil, and Tom were particularly excited. During the week prior to their hunting trip it was all anyone could talk about, especially since they had promised if they got their deer they would split it up among the men.
Monday morning no one could talk about anything else. The hunt had been successful, and like they promised, Pete, Phil, and Tom had brought the packaged meat with them to work in coolers. They were going to divide it among the men during the dinner hour. Everyone was excited, but mostly because of the practical joke the guys had planned for Big Jake.
When they butchered the deer they saved the ears, the hoofs, and the tail. They wrapped these up in a big package, which they were going to give to Big Jake. It was going to be so funny. They couldn’t wait to see Jake’s face when he opened his package and out fell those choice parts.
During dinner the guys began distributing the packages of meat. Each man got one, and everyone held their breath as the biggest was given to Big Jake, sitting down at the end of the table. This was going to be so funny.
They were all surprised when Big Jake stood up, though. Usually Jake didn’t say much. He cleared his throat and said, "Pete, Phil, Tom, I want to thank you for this meat." Everyone looked around and smiled, waiting for the joke. "I knew you wouldn’t forget me," Jake continued. "I know I don’t seem very friendly to you guys. I never go bowling or hunting or fishing with you, but that’s because my wife is an invalid, and after work I go home to take care of her and the kids." The guys looked at each other in dismay, but Jake continued. "And I know I don’t seem too friendly when I eat down here at the other end of the table, but you see, I’m a little ashamed for you to see what’s in my lunch box. Most of the time it’s just two pieces of bread with nothing between them, or sometimes, like today, it’s just a turnip. But tonight, thanks to the generosity of you men, my family is going to have a real dinner, and I want you to know how grateful I am."
The men sat around the table in stunned silence during this speech, but as Big Jake picked up his packet and began to untie it Pete, Phil, and Tom all dove to stop him. They didn’t make it in time, though. The string came untied, the paper fell off, and out fell the hooves, the ears, and the tail. It was supposed to be so funny. They were all going to laugh. But no one did. The worst part, though, was when Big Jake looked up and tried to smile.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A True Love Story
You know, we're getting close to Valentines Day, and it makes me think about love stories. I read a true love story in the Readers Digest many years ago that I have never forgotten. It's not your typical love story, but I'll tell you, it's one of the best.
There was a couple who met, fell in love, and got married in a short time. They were very much in love, and very happy. Then a terrible thing happened. They were in a horrific car accident. The husband was hurt, but he recovered. The wife, on the other hand, had multiple broken bones and injuries, including to her brain. When she finally recovered consciousness they discovered that she had a rare form of amnesia. She could remember her childhood and adolescence, but she had lost the last year of her life. She didn't remember ever meeting, falling in love with, or marrying her husband. To her, he was a complete stranger.
This didn't bother him at first, he was just so happy that his wife was alive. He figured she would eventually get her memory back, and if not they still had their whole life ahead of them. He just wanted her to get well and be able to walk again. There was a lot of physical therapy that she needed to do to regain her mobility and strength, but it was very painful. The husband encouraged and pushed her, knowing it would help her to get better, but all she knew was that a complete stranger was forcing her to do things that hurt, and she resented him. In fact, as time went on she began to really hate him. She had no fond memories, no love, no reason to even want this man around her.
The couple had both been raised as very strong Christians with a deep respect for the sanctity of marriage. Although many people thought there was no logical reason for them to stay together, the wife didn't even remember their marriage, neither of them believed in divorce. They believed that if you made vows, promises, and commitments to someone you honored them, regardless the circumstances.
Eventually the husband realized that because his wife didn't have any memory of their love, of course she didn't love him. But he could try to make her fall in love with him now. He started over at the beginning, courting her, bringing her flowers, showering her with love and affection, and she did fall in love with him all over again. He asked her to marry him, again, and they had another wedding, renewing the vows they had made so that the wife would have a memory of her wedding day, too.
I love that story. It's real, not just a fairy tale, like life. True life doesn't necessarily have a happy ending. In fact, as it says in the movie The Last Unicorn, there are no happy endings, because nothing ever ends. Life goes on, even after we get married. The trick is to live happily ever after, and that takes commitment more than love. But it is the true love story.
There was a couple who met, fell in love, and got married in a short time. They were very much in love, and very happy. Then a terrible thing happened. They were in a horrific car accident. The husband was hurt, but he recovered. The wife, on the other hand, had multiple broken bones and injuries, including to her brain. When she finally recovered consciousness they discovered that she had a rare form of amnesia. She could remember her childhood and adolescence, but she had lost the last year of her life. She didn't remember ever meeting, falling in love with, or marrying her husband. To her, he was a complete stranger.
This didn't bother him at first, he was just so happy that his wife was alive. He figured she would eventually get her memory back, and if not they still had their whole life ahead of them. He just wanted her to get well and be able to walk again. There was a lot of physical therapy that she needed to do to regain her mobility and strength, but it was very painful. The husband encouraged and pushed her, knowing it would help her to get better, but all she knew was that a complete stranger was forcing her to do things that hurt, and she resented him. In fact, as time went on she began to really hate him. She had no fond memories, no love, no reason to even want this man around her.
The couple had both been raised as very strong Christians with a deep respect for the sanctity of marriage. Although many people thought there was no logical reason for them to stay together, the wife didn't even remember their marriage, neither of them believed in divorce. They believed that if you made vows, promises, and commitments to someone you honored them, regardless the circumstances.
Eventually the husband realized that because his wife didn't have any memory of their love, of course she didn't love him. But he could try to make her fall in love with him now. He started over at the beginning, courting her, bringing her flowers, showering her with love and affection, and she did fall in love with him all over again. He asked her to marry him, again, and they had another wedding, renewing the vows they had made so that the wife would have a memory of her wedding day, too.
I love that story. It's real, not just a fairy tale, like life. True life doesn't necessarily have a happy ending. In fact, as it says in the movie The Last Unicorn, there are no happy endings, because nothing ever ends. Life goes on, even after we get married. The trick is to live happily ever after, and that takes commitment more than love. But it is the true love story.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Oh, What A Night!
December evenings don't have to be cold in the deserts of Arizona. This particular evening wasn't bad at all. I was only wearing a light sweater, and was plenty warm. Sad, really, because we had been to a ward Christmas party, and it would have felt more in keeping with the holidays if we had needed to be bundled up to keep the chill out. I didn't go to the party with my family that year, I went with a date. A special date.
I had been in love with Gene for a long time, he was so cute! And nice. I would have loved it if he was my boy friend, but so far it hadn't happened. Since summer, about once a month Gene asked me out, and I was the happiest girl in town. Then weeks would go by without a word from him, and I would decide he wasn't interested in me, until the next time he called. I was interested in him, though. Man, was I interested!
I had changed my life around for Gene. Instead of driving straight down University Drive, the street just around the corner from my house, and all the way into Tempe and Arizona State University where I was a student, I took the longer route, through the subdivision and neighborhoods south of our house, just so I could drive by Gene's house each morning and evening. I wouldn't turn my head, but my eyes always looked to the east to see if his car was in the driveway. Three times a week I got up two hours earlier, just so I could go to an early morning scripture study group we started that fall. Yes, I came up with the idea and talked the other young adults in our ward into getting together at six o'clock in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, to study. Why? So I could see Gene, of course. I had really gone out on a limb in November, when I suggested to some of my girl friends that we ought to put together a blind date night. Each of us would fix up someone else with a date we thought they would like, then we would have a party. Of course, I worked it out so that my girlfriend fixed me up with Gene, and I fixed her up with the boy she liked. We had so much fun! Even my Christmas present this year was due to Gene. I had asked mom and dad for a new set of scriptures, with a green leather case. You would never guess what color scriptures Gene had. I had it pretty bad, I guess.
Well, on this particular night Gene had asked me to go to the ward Christmas Party with him. I was elated, of course. We went, and had a good time. Afterwards, mom and dad and my little brother and sisters stayed to help clean up, but mom put a plate of food together to send home to one of our neighbors who had been unable to go to the party. She asked Gene and I to drop it off at their house. Of course I said yes, anything to spend a little more time with Gene. We dropped the plate of food off, then Gene took me home.
Mom and Dad still weren't back, it always took forever to clean up after a ward party. Gene got out of his car, walked around and opened my door for me, and walked me up the sidewalk to my front door. We were chatting a little, but not too much. I always seemed to be tongue tied when I was around any boys, and although I tried to think of things to say I still wasn't very good at it. Looking back, Gene wasn't very loquacious either. I wonder if he was always as nervous as I? When we got to the front door we stood on the porch for a few minutes, still visiting.
I can see the porch in my mind, even now. We had a fast growing kind of ivy that covered the white, brick walls of our house. It trailed from one side of the porch to the other, hanging down over the doorway and creating a sort of frame for the door. There was one porch light beside the door, not very bright, so behind the ivy it was still shadowy and kind of romantic. I was busy trying to think of interesting things to say to Gene. I turned my head to the side, looking at something, when to my amazement he leaned forward to kiss me. Because I had turned my head his lips just grazed along the side of my cheek. How embarrassing! If only I'd been sophisticated and sure of myself I would have turned back and put my lips in the right place so he could try again, but alas! I didn't know how to be sophisticated! All I knew how to do was be embarrassed.
Poor Gene. Did he think I didn't want him to kiss me? I hope not. Perhaps it was his first kiss, too, because he didn't seem to know what to do either. I giggled self consiously, he laughed a little, and we both said good night. I quickly turned to open the front door and escape, only to discover that it was locked! Locked? Who locked their doors in Mesa back in those days? I was mortified! Of course I didn't have a house key, I'd never needed one before, so I had to say goodby to Gene again, and as he walked back down the sidewalk to his car I hurried along the front of the house, around the corner, and almost ran around the house to the back door, hitting the wall with my fist all the way, exlaiming, "Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Why do I have to be so dumb?"
I let myself in the back door, which of course was not locked, and ran into my bedroom where I threw myself on my bed and wished with all my might that I was not such a naive little girl who didn't even know how to go about having her first kiss. Oh, well, we live and learn, right. But I wonder sometimes how my life would have been different if only I had not been so dumb?
I had been in love with Gene for a long time, he was so cute! And nice. I would have loved it if he was my boy friend, but so far it hadn't happened. Since summer, about once a month Gene asked me out, and I was the happiest girl in town. Then weeks would go by without a word from him, and I would decide he wasn't interested in me, until the next time he called. I was interested in him, though. Man, was I interested!
I had changed my life around for Gene. Instead of driving straight down University Drive, the street just around the corner from my house, and all the way into Tempe and Arizona State University where I was a student, I took the longer route, through the subdivision and neighborhoods south of our house, just so I could drive by Gene's house each morning and evening. I wouldn't turn my head, but my eyes always looked to the east to see if his car was in the driveway. Three times a week I got up two hours earlier, just so I could go to an early morning scripture study group we started that fall. Yes, I came up with the idea and talked the other young adults in our ward into getting together at six o'clock in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, to study. Why? So I could see Gene, of course. I had really gone out on a limb in November, when I suggested to some of my girl friends that we ought to put together a blind date night. Each of us would fix up someone else with a date we thought they would like, then we would have a party. Of course, I worked it out so that my girlfriend fixed me up with Gene, and I fixed her up with the boy she liked. We had so much fun! Even my Christmas present this year was due to Gene. I had asked mom and dad for a new set of scriptures, with a green leather case. You would never guess what color scriptures Gene had. I had it pretty bad, I guess.
Well, on this particular night Gene had asked me to go to the ward Christmas Party with him. I was elated, of course. We went, and had a good time. Afterwards, mom and dad and my little brother and sisters stayed to help clean up, but mom put a plate of food together to send home to one of our neighbors who had been unable to go to the party. She asked Gene and I to drop it off at their house. Of course I said yes, anything to spend a little more time with Gene. We dropped the plate of food off, then Gene took me home.
Mom and Dad still weren't back, it always took forever to clean up after a ward party. Gene got out of his car, walked around and opened my door for me, and walked me up the sidewalk to my front door. We were chatting a little, but not too much. I always seemed to be tongue tied when I was around any boys, and although I tried to think of things to say I still wasn't very good at it. Looking back, Gene wasn't very loquacious either. I wonder if he was always as nervous as I? When we got to the front door we stood on the porch for a few minutes, still visiting.
I can see the porch in my mind, even now. We had a fast growing kind of ivy that covered the white, brick walls of our house. It trailed from one side of the porch to the other, hanging down over the doorway and creating a sort of frame for the door. There was one porch light beside the door, not very bright, so behind the ivy it was still shadowy and kind of romantic. I was busy trying to think of interesting things to say to Gene. I turned my head to the side, looking at something, when to my amazement he leaned forward to kiss me. Because I had turned my head his lips just grazed along the side of my cheek. How embarrassing! If only I'd been sophisticated and sure of myself I would have turned back and put my lips in the right place so he could try again, but alas! I didn't know how to be sophisticated! All I knew how to do was be embarrassed.
Poor Gene. Did he think I didn't want him to kiss me? I hope not. Perhaps it was his first kiss, too, because he didn't seem to know what to do either. I giggled self consiously, he laughed a little, and we both said good night. I quickly turned to open the front door and escape, only to discover that it was locked! Locked? Who locked their doors in Mesa back in those days? I was mortified! Of course I didn't have a house key, I'd never needed one before, so I had to say goodby to Gene again, and as he walked back down the sidewalk to his car I hurried along the front of the house, around the corner, and almost ran around the house to the back door, hitting the wall with my fist all the way, exlaiming, "Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Why do I have to be so dumb?"
I let myself in the back door, which of course was not locked, and ran into my bedroom where I threw myself on my bed and wished with all my might that I was not such a naive little girl who didn't even know how to go about having her first kiss. Oh, well, we live and learn, right. But I wonder sometimes how my life would have been different if only I had not been so dumb?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
What Would You Do With $100?
I just read a delightful story about a young man who was out jogging one evening when he saw a piece of paper lying on the street. He about ran over it when something prompted him to stop and pick it up. Someone had written on the paper, "Pick me up, I'm yours." Inside he found a $100 bill! Wow! The young man said he grinned all the way home, thinking about the fun stuff he could buy with $100. I mean, think about it...... trips to McDonalds, movie tickets, a new IPod? He had so much fun it made him start to think about giving other people the same pleasure, and he decided he wanted to try to make 100 other people happy, too. Obviously he couldn't go around leaving $100 bills lying on the ground, but he realized even a little bit of money could suprise and please someone.
This young man found a bank that was doing a promotional offer, where you opened an account with $100 and they would match your deposit. He deposited his $100 and the bank gave him $100, so he had $200 to work with. Since then he has been giving away $2 at a time, with the goal of suprising 100 people. He has bought tickets for the people behind him at the dollar movies, he has left quarters on the gum ball machine, he has bought food at fast food restaurants for homeless people, and much more.
I loved reading about this story. I can imagine how much fun it must have been to discover that $100 bill on the street. I can also imagine how much fun this young man is having giving the money away! Honestly, I'm afraid I wouldn't have had the forsight to come up with a plan to make 101 people happy (because he is finding the most happiness of all so he is the 101st person) but this story has sure inspired me. I've been wondering all day how I can follow his example.
This young man found a bank that was doing a promotional offer, where you opened an account with $100 and they would match your deposit. He deposited his $100 and the bank gave him $100, so he had $200 to work with. Since then he has been giving away $2 at a time, with the goal of suprising 100 people. He has bought tickets for the people behind him at the dollar movies, he has left quarters on the gum ball machine, he has bought food at fast food restaurants for homeless people, and much more.
I loved reading about this story. I can imagine how much fun it must have been to discover that $100 bill on the street. I can also imagine how much fun this young man is having giving the money away! Honestly, I'm afraid I wouldn't have had the forsight to come up with a plan to make 101 people happy (because he is finding the most happiness of all so he is the 101st person) but this story has sure inspired me. I've been wondering all day how I can follow his example.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
I Love You Mother
I love you mother, said little Nell
I love you more than tongues can tell.
Then teased and pouted for half the day
Till her mother rejoiced when she went out to play.
I love you mother, said little John
Forgetting his work, his cap went on.
Then he was off to the garden swing
Leaving his mother the wood to bring
I love you mother, said little Ann
Today I'll help you all I can
Then stepping softly she took the broom
Swept the floor and tidied the room.
I love you mother, again they said
Three little children all going to bed.
Now which one do you suppose really loved Mother the most?
I love you more than tongues can tell.
Then teased and pouted for half the day
Till her mother rejoiced when she went out to play.
I love you mother, said little John
Forgetting his work, his cap went on.
Then he was off to the garden swing
Leaving his mother the wood to bring
I love you mother, said little Ann
Today I'll help you all I can
Then stepping softly she took the broom
Swept the floor and tidied the room.
I love you mother, again they said
Three little children all going to bed.
Now which one do you suppose really loved Mother the most?
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Little Puppy Doggy
This is a story my mother used to tell us when we were little. When I began babysitting as a teenager it was one of the stories I always told the kids. When I became a mother I told this story to my children over and over, and now I tell it to my grandchildren. It's short and simple, but for some reason it has stuck.
Little Puppy Doggy
One morning Little Puppy Doggy woke up bright and early. It was such a beautiful day that Little Puppy Doggy asked his mother if he could go outside to play.
"Sure," said Mother Puppy Doggy, "but don’t go out of our yard."
"I won’t", promised Little Puppy Doggy, and he ran outside to play. He ran and ran in the bright sunshine. He listened to the birds singing in the trees, he chased butterflies and sun beams, and he tried to catch his tail. Round and round in a circle he ran, calling, "Yip, yip, yip. Yip, yip, yip." Little Puppy Doggy was having so much fun! Then all of a sudden, Little Puppy Doggy heard a new sound. It went like this. "Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz."
Little Puppy Doggy looked all around. Suddenly he saw Mr. Bee. He had come to play with Little Puppy Doggy. Mr. Bee flew all around and Little Puppy Doggy chased him up and down and around in circles. They played and played, and had a wonderful time, but after awhile Mr. Bee got tired, so he flew next door to Mr. Brown’s yard to rest in the shade of a big tree.
But Little Puppy Doggy wasn't tired! He still wanted to play with Mr. Bee. Little Puppy Doggy started to run next door to Mr. Brown's yard, but then he remembered what his mommy had said. "Don't go out of our yard."
"I’ll only be gone a little while," Little Puppy Doggy thought. "Mommy won’t even know I left our yard."
So Little Puppy Dog ran next door. But Mr. Bee didn’t want to play anymore. He was tired and just wanted to rest in the shade of the big tree. Little Puppy Doggy started to chase Mr. Bee, but when he tried to catch him, Mr. Bee stung Little Puppy Doggy right on the end of his nose, and it hurt! Poor Little Puppy Doggy! He ran home to his house, crying "Yip, yip, yip! Yip, Yip, Yip! Mommy, mommy, Mr. Bee stung me on the end of my nose, and it hurts!"
Mother Puppy Dog came outside and looked at poor Little Puppy Doggy. "Little Puppy Doggy, did you go outside of our yard?" asked Mother.
"Yes, I did," said Little Puppy Doggy. "I’m sorry mother. I promise I won’t ever do it again."
"I know you won’t," said Mother Puppy Doggy. Then she went and got some cold mud to put on the end of Little Puppy Doggy's nose to make it feel better. And do you know what? Little Puppy Doggy always remembered to do what his mother told him to do after that.
Little Puppy Doggy
One morning Little Puppy Doggy woke up bright and early. It was such a beautiful day that Little Puppy Doggy asked his mother if he could go outside to play.
"Sure," said Mother Puppy Doggy, "but don’t go out of our yard."
"I won’t", promised Little Puppy Doggy, and he ran outside to play. He ran and ran in the bright sunshine. He listened to the birds singing in the trees, he chased butterflies and sun beams, and he tried to catch his tail. Round and round in a circle he ran, calling, "Yip, yip, yip. Yip, yip, yip." Little Puppy Doggy was having so much fun! Then all of a sudden, Little Puppy Doggy heard a new sound. It went like this. "Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz."
Little Puppy Doggy looked all around. Suddenly he saw Mr. Bee. He had come to play with Little Puppy Doggy. Mr. Bee flew all around and Little Puppy Doggy chased him up and down and around in circles. They played and played, and had a wonderful time, but after awhile Mr. Bee got tired, so he flew next door to Mr. Brown’s yard to rest in the shade of a big tree.
But Little Puppy Doggy wasn't tired! He still wanted to play with Mr. Bee. Little Puppy Doggy started to run next door to Mr. Brown's yard, but then he remembered what his mommy had said. "Don't go out of our yard."
"I’ll only be gone a little while," Little Puppy Doggy thought. "Mommy won’t even know I left our yard."
So Little Puppy Dog ran next door. But Mr. Bee didn’t want to play anymore. He was tired and just wanted to rest in the shade of the big tree. Little Puppy Doggy started to chase Mr. Bee, but when he tried to catch him, Mr. Bee stung Little Puppy Doggy right on the end of his nose, and it hurt! Poor Little Puppy Doggy! He ran home to his house, crying "Yip, yip, yip! Yip, Yip, Yip! Mommy, mommy, Mr. Bee stung me on the end of my nose, and it hurts!"
Mother Puppy Dog came outside and looked at poor Little Puppy Doggy. "Little Puppy Doggy, did you go outside of our yard?" asked Mother.
"Yes, I did," said Little Puppy Doggy. "I’m sorry mother. I promise I won’t ever do it again."
"I know you won’t," said Mother Puppy Doggy. Then she went and got some cold mud to put on the end of Little Puppy Doggy's nose to make it feel better. And do you know what? Little Puppy Doggy always remembered to do what his mother told him to do after that.
Monday, February 6, 2012
I Love You, Sort Of
This isn't really much of a story, but it is based on a couple of classes I had the opportunity to observe when I was a student aid, many years ago. What I saw made a difference in how I tried to handle my classes when I later became a teacher myself.
I Love You, Sort of
by Gale Ashcroft
When Mindy was in 4th grade she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. The problem was Mrs. Waters, her teacher. Almost every day Mrs. Waters told her class how much she loved them, and how glad she was that she was their teacher, but sometimes, especially in the afternoon when the kids talked too loudly or when their classroom was a mess, she would yell at them and tell them what a bad class they were.
Mindy just couldn't understand it. sometimes she would go home feeling awful, sure that Mrs. Waters didn't like her at all. Then when she would go to school the next morning, Mrs. Waters would be happy and smiling again. If the class was paying attention and doing what they were supposed to do she would praise them and tell them how much she loved them.
By Christmas Mindy was feeling really bad about her class. Even when Mrs. Waters was happy Mindy wasn’t comfortable because she was afraid that if she did something wrong Mrs. Waters would yell at her. Mindy’s mom could tell something was bothering her. Finally Mindy told her mom that Mrs. Waters didn’t like her. Her mom was really surprised because she knew Mindy was trying hard to be good in school, so she made an appointment with Mrs. Waters. To her surprise, Mrs. Waters told her that she thought Mindy was a wonderful student and that she was really glad she was in her class. When her mother told Mindy what Mrs. Waters had said Mindy was relieved, but she was still worried. Her mother explained to her that sometimes people yell or get mad when they are upset or frustrated but they still like you. That helped, and Mindy tried hard to help Mrs. Waters every day and do everything she was asked to do, but when Mrs. Waters yelled it still scared Mindy and made her feel bad.
I Love You, Sort of
by Gale Ashcroft
When Mindy was in 4th grade she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. The problem was Mrs. Waters, her teacher. Almost every day Mrs. Waters told her class how much she loved them, and how glad she was that she was their teacher, but sometimes, especially in the afternoon when the kids talked too loudly or when their classroom was a mess, she would yell at them and tell them what a bad class they were.
Mindy just couldn't understand it. sometimes she would go home feeling awful, sure that Mrs. Waters didn't like her at all. Then when she would go to school the next morning, Mrs. Waters would be happy and smiling again. If the class was paying attention and doing what they were supposed to do she would praise them and tell them how much she loved them.
By Christmas Mindy was feeling really bad about her class. Even when Mrs. Waters was happy Mindy wasn’t comfortable because she was afraid that if she did something wrong Mrs. Waters would yell at her. Mindy’s mom could tell something was bothering her. Finally Mindy told her mom that Mrs. Waters didn’t like her. Her mom was really surprised because she knew Mindy was trying hard to be good in school, so she made an appointment with Mrs. Waters. To her surprise, Mrs. Waters told her that she thought Mindy was a wonderful student and that she was really glad she was in her class. When her mother told Mindy what Mrs. Waters had said Mindy was relieved, but she was still worried. Her mother explained to her that sometimes people yell or get mad when they are upset or frustrated but they still like you. That helped, and Mindy tried hard to help Mrs. Waters every day and do everything she was asked to do, but when Mrs. Waters yelled it still scared Mindy and made her feel bad.
One day Mr. Richards told the class a story about when he was a little boy and he had lost his temper. He said he got in big trouble, and then his mother taught him an important lesson. She told him when things happened that made him upset he should stop and take a deep breath, count to ten, then think about what he was going to do before he said or did anything. Mindy thought about what Mr. Richard’s mother had taught him all that day. She decided that was why she enjoyed Mr. Richard’s class so much. He never lost his temper. She realized that even though Mr. Richards never told his class that he loved them she still knew that he did because of the way he treated them, and 5th grade soon became her favorite year.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Be Happy
BE HAPPY
All the children in the class said yes.
Annie’s teacher told her class that this was a picture of one time when Jesus was teaching the people how to be happy. She said he was teaching them to do some things called the Beatitudes, things that would make them be happy. One of the Beatitudes was to be a peacemaker. "Does anyone know what being a peacemaker is?" she asked.
The children didn’t, so the teacher explained that being a peacemaker meant that you tried to help other people be happy. "The best part about being a peacemaker is that when you help other people be happy, it makes you happy too, Annie's teacher explained. "Sometimes people forget how to be happy, though, but the animals and creatures that Jesus made don’t forget."
Then their teacher took them on a walk outside to help them see some of the creatures.
As they walked out of the door of the church, right away they saw a fly, buzzing around a tree. The teacher told them to listen to the fly. It said "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." "Do you know what it sounds like it’s saying? Be Happppppppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyzzzzzzzzzz."
The children laughed and tried to say "Be Happy" like a fly.
Then they looked up in a tree. There was a cute little bird sitting on a branch. The bird was chirping, cheep, cheep. Cheep cheep. "Do you know what that sounds like to me?" asked the teacher. "Be happy, Be happy."
The children found a little tiny lady bug, climbing on a blade of crass in the yard. They couldn’t hear anything it said, but the teacher smiled at them and said, "Look how pretty and bright this lady bug is. Even though I can’t hear what she is saying, I can see how cheerful she looks, and I know she is saying, be Happy, Be Happy!"
As the children were walking back to the church door they found a little toad, hiding behind a rock. It bounded away when it saw them, and as it bounced the teacher asked, "What does it look like it’s saying?"
The children all laughed and said, "Be happy, Be happy".
When they got back into the class the teacher told them, "Remember the birds and the frogs and the bugs, even the mice and the kittens and the bunnies. All the things that Jesus created for us will help us to remember that Jesus wants us to be happy. And you can help other people remember, too. When you help people remember to be happy, you are being a peacemaker like Jesus wants you to be."
Annie thought about being a peacemaker as she drove home with her family. She wanted to help other people be happy, just like the animals and birds, and bugs. When they got out of the car, she saw her mom looking kind of sad. She was sniffing and holding her forehead. Annie wondered if mom was getting a cold. When they walked in the house Mom saw the game that Tim and Tommy had left scattered all around the front room where they had been playing before church. She was very upset.
"Why don’t you boys ever clean things up?" she exclaimed! "You put this game away right now!"
Annie followed mom into the kitchen, and saw her sniff the air, then run over to the stove. She opened it, and exclaimed, "Oh, no! I forgot to turn the oven on!" Then she went and sat down in a chair and laid her head in her arms on the table. She started to sneeze.
"Poor mom", thought Annie. "She is really not happy now."
When Annie got a Kleenex from the box, she noticed the gold fish, swimming around in his bowl on the counter. She couldn’t hear him say anything, but she saw his mouth open and shut, and she could imagine what he was saying. "Be happy, be happy."
Annie ran up to her mother and put her arms around her. "Here’s a Kleenex, mom," Annie said as she pushed the Kleenex into her moms hand. "Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, it will make you feel better." Annie took her mom’s hand and tried to pull her up.
"I can’t, Annie," mom said sadly. "I have to fix something for us to eat for supper since the roast isn’t cooked."
"Daddy can help me make sandwiches," Annie said, as she pulled mom out of her chair. "You come lie down."
Reluctantly, mom let Annie pull her into the living room and lay down on the couch.
"I’ll take off your shoes for you," said Annie, as she pulled off her mother’s Sunday shoes. She started to put them on the floor, then she remembered that her mother didn’t want the house to be a mess, so she took them with her upstairs to her mom’s bedroom and put them in the closet.
Daddy was still in the bedroom, hanging up his tie. He looked kind of cross. "He’s probably unhappy that dinner isn’t ready," thought Annie.
She looked out the window, and there in the tree outside she saw a blue bird, singing a song. It sure sounded like he was singing, "Be Happy, Be Happy". Annie smiled and turned to daddy. "Daddy, mommy has a cold I think." She said. "Could you help me make some sandwiches for our supper, so she can rest?"
Daddy looked at Annie in surprise for a minute, then he grinned and said, "What a good idea. Let’s go!"
Together Annie and daddy made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then, while daddy poured the milk, Annie went to get her big brothers. They were still in the front room. The game wasn’t picked up at all, and they were arguing over who made the most mess and should pick it up. Annie thought they looked just like dogs, barking at each other. It didn’t sound like they were saying "Be Happy, Be Happy," but she knew that a real dog might say it. So she went into the front room and said, "Tim and Tommy, we are ready to eat dinner. Would you like me to help you put away the game so we can eat it now?"
Tim and Tommy looked at Annie in surprise. She started picking up the pieces of the game for them, and after a while, they began to pick up a few too. Then they all went into the kitchen to eat dinner.
That night Daddy tucked Annie into bed because mommy still wasn’t feeling very good. He sat down on the bed and gave her a kiss. Then he said, "Annie, thank you for being such a good girl today. You sure did help us out."
Annie smiled. "I was trying to help you be happy, like Jesus wants us to be," she said. "My teacher called that being a peacemaker."
"Well, you were a really good peacemaker today!" Daddy told her. "And it did make me be happy, for sure. Thank you sweetheart."
Annie smiled some more. "You know what, Daddy. It made me happy, too."
by Gale Ashcroft
One Sunday Annie’s teacher held up a picture of Jesus, sitting on a hillside, teaching the people. Annie’s teacher told the class that Jesus made our world and everything in it, the animals, the trees and flowers, and even the mountains and the oceans. Then she said, "Jesus is our big brother and he loves us very much. Do you think Jesus wants us to be happy?"All the children in the class said yes.
Annie’s teacher told her class that this was a picture of one time when Jesus was teaching the people how to be happy. She said he was teaching them to do some things called the Beatitudes, things that would make them be happy. One of the Beatitudes was to be a peacemaker. "Does anyone know what being a peacemaker is?" she asked.
The children didn’t, so the teacher explained that being a peacemaker meant that you tried to help other people be happy. "The best part about being a peacemaker is that when you help other people be happy, it makes you happy too, Annie's teacher explained. "Sometimes people forget how to be happy, though, but the animals and creatures that Jesus made don’t forget."
Then their teacher took them on a walk outside to help them see some of the creatures.
As they walked out of the door of the church, right away they saw a fly, buzzing around a tree. The teacher told them to listen to the fly. It said "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." "Do you know what it sounds like it’s saying? Be Happppppppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyzzzzzzzzzz."
The children laughed and tried to say "Be Happy" like a fly.
Then they looked up in a tree. There was a cute little bird sitting on a branch. The bird was chirping, cheep, cheep. Cheep cheep. "Do you know what that sounds like to me?" asked the teacher. "Be happy, Be happy."
The children found a little tiny lady bug, climbing on a blade of crass in the yard. They couldn’t hear anything it said, but the teacher smiled at them and said, "Look how pretty and bright this lady bug is. Even though I can’t hear what she is saying, I can see how cheerful she looks, and I know she is saying, be Happy, Be Happy!"
As the children were walking back to the church door they found a little toad, hiding behind a rock. It bounded away when it saw them, and as it bounced the teacher asked, "What does it look like it’s saying?"
The children all laughed and said, "Be happy, Be happy".
When they got back into the class the teacher told them, "Remember the birds and the frogs and the bugs, even the mice and the kittens and the bunnies. All the things that Jesus created for us will help us to remember that Jesus wants us to be happy. And you can help other people remember, too. When you help people remember to be happy, you are being a peacemaker like Jesus wants you to be."
Annie thought about being a peacemaker as she drove home with her family. She wanted to help other people be happy, just like the animals and birds, and bugs. When they got out of the car, she saw her mom looking kind of sad. She was sniffing and holding her forehead. Annie wondered if mom was getting a cold. When they walked in the house Mom saw the game that Tim and Tommy had left scattered all around the front room where they had been playing before church. She was very upset.
"Why don’t you boys ever clean things up?" she exclaimed! "You put this game away right now!"
Annie followed mom into the kitchen, and saw her sniff the air, then run over to the stove. She opened it, and exclaimed, "Oh, no! I forgot to turn the oven on!" Then she went and sat down in a chair and laid her head in her arms on the table. She started to sneeze.
"Poor mom", thought Annie. "She is really not happy now."
When Annie got a Kleenex from the box, she noticed the gold fish, swimming around in his bowl on the counter. She couldn’t hear him say anything, but she saw his mouth open and shut, and she could imagine what he was saying. "Be happy, be happy."
Annie ran up to her mother and put her arms around her. "Here’s a Kleenex, mom," Annie said as she pushed the Kleenex into her moms hand. "Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, it will make you feel better." Annie took her mom’s hand and tried to pull her up.
"I can’t, Annie," mom said sadly. "I have to fix something for us to eat for supper since the roast isn’t cooked."
"Daddy can help me make sandwiches," Annie said, as she pulled mom out of her chair. "You come lie down."
Reluctantly, mom let Annie pull her into the living room and lay down on the couch.
"I’ll take off your shoes for you," said Annie, as she pulled off her mother’s Sunday shoes. She started to put them on the floor, then she remembered that her mother didn’t want the house to be a mess, so she took them with her upstairs to her mom’s bedroom and put them in the closet.
Daddy was still in the bedroom, hanging up his tie. He looked kind of cross. "He’s probably unhappy that dinner isn’t ready," thought Annie.
She looked out the window, and there in the tree outside she saw a blue bird, singing a song. It sure sounded like he was singing, "Be Happy, Be Happy". Annie smiled and turned to daddy. "Daddy, mommy has a cold I think." She said. "Could you help me make some sandwiches for our supper, so she can rest?"
Daddy looked at Annie in surprise for a minute, then he grinned and said, "What a good idea. Let’s go!"
Together Annie and daddy made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then, while daddy poured the milk, Annie went to get her big brothers. They were still in the front room. The game wasn’t picked up at all, and they were arguing over who made the most mess and should pick it up. Annie thought they looked just like dogs, barking at each other. It didn’t sound like they were saying "Be Happy, Be Happy," but she knew that a real dog might say it. So she went into the front room and said, "Tim and Tommy, we are ready to eat dinner. Would you like me to help you put away the game so we can eat it now?"
Tim and Tommy looked at Annie in surprise. She started picking up the pieces of the game for them, and after a while, they began to pick up a few too. Then they all went into the kitchen to eat dinner.
That night Daddy tucked Annie into bed because mommy still wasn’t feeling very good. He sat down on the bed and gave her a kiss. Then he said, "Annie, thank you for being such a good girl today. You sure did help us out."
Annie smiled. "I was trying to help you be happy, like Jesus wants us to be," she said. "My teacher called that being a peacemaker."
"Well, you were a really good peacemaker today!" Daddy told her. "And it did make me be happy, for sure. Thank you sweetheart."
Annie smiled some more. "You know what, Daddy. It made me happy, too."
Saturday, February 4, 2012
A Swede in Brazil
In 1890 my great grandparents immigrated from Sweden to Brazil. To encourage immigration, the Bazilian governent payed the passage for immigrants from Hamburg, Germany, to Rio De Janero. My Grandpa, John Francisco Johnson, was born two years later, on September 17th, 1892, in Santa Barbara, Brazil.
Grandpa's parents decided to go return Sweden a few years later because they were unable to stand the intense heat. Grandpa was only a baby, but he remembered the stories his mother told him about living in Brazil.
Sometimes the heat was as high as 130 to 135 degrees. Great Grandma Johnson's legs would swell from the heat and then crack open. Some of the cracks were large enough that she could but her finger in them. In Brazil there were flies that would lay their eggs in people and the eggs would grow into worms and feed on the person's skin, making huge sores. When grandpa was just a baby a fly stung him and the worm grew larger than a finger. His father had to boil his knife and slit the skin open to get the worm out. Grandpa had a convulsion and they thought he surley would die, but he came out of it all right.
Sometimes the intense heat would bring on sever cloud bursts. Grandpa's parents had only been able to build temporary housing shelters of bamboo and rough lumber. One such cloud burst came on so fast that his father didn't have time to run to the house to help his mother. It was so bad she had to crawl under the bed which was nailed to the side of the house, and there cling to her two boys with one hand and the bed with the other to keep from being washed away.The following year his mother returned to Sweden with grandpa and his older brother Sigfrid, but his father had to wait for another year until he earned enough money to pay his way home as well. They were all very happy to get back to home.
Grandpa's parents decided to go return Sweden a few years later because they were unable to stand the intense heat. Grandpa was only a baby, but he remembered the stories his mother told him about living in Brazil.
Sometimes the heat was as high as 130 to 135 degrees. Great Grandma Johnson's legs would swell from the heat and then crack open. Some of the cracks were large enough that she could but her finger in them. In Brazil there were flies that would lay their eggs in people and the eggs would grow into worms and feed on the person's skin, making huge sores. When grandpa was just a baby a fly stung him and the worm grew larger than a finger. His father had to boil his knife and slit the skin open to get the worm out. Grandpa had a convulsion and they thought he surley would die, but he came out of it all right.
Sometimes the intense heat would bring on sever cloud bursts. Grandpa's parents had only been able to build temporary housing shelters of bamboo and rough lumber. One such cloud burst came on so fast that his father didn't have time to run to the house to help his mother. It was so bad she had to crawl under the bed which was nailed to the side of the house, and there cling to her two boys with one hand and the bed with the other to keep from being washed away.The following year his mother returned to Sweden with grandpa and his older brother Sigfrid, but his father had to wait for another year until he earned enough money to pay his way home as well. They were all very happy to get back to home.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Grandpa and His Teacher
I substituted in 7th grade Science today. It was fun, but I sure am tired! Kids like to take advantage of subs sometimes, but the classes I taught today were good. Not like some of the boys in Grandpa Johnson's class when he was young.
Grandpa was raised in Sweden. He started school when he was 7 years old, back in 1905. Back in those days the schools were all work and no play. School was from 9:00 to 3:30, with half an hour for lunch. Each hour they had a five minute recess to run around and get the wiggles out. During the rest of the time students were to sit quietly at their desks, no talking, whispering, or fidgiting.
One day a little girl in Grandpa's class spoke without permission. Their teacher was a very hard man. He walked up behind the girl, grabbed one of her pig-tails, and yanked it. He yanked so hard that he pulled her hair out. The class was furious, but they had no recourse. The teacher ruled and the kids obeyed, and that was that.
That night Grandpa and his friends got together. They were all angry about what their teacher had done and they wanted to find a way to pay him back. Early in the morning before school they went house to house, gathering the contents of everyone's bedpans into one big bucket. This they took to the teacher's house, where they dumped it on his front porch. Then one of the boys knocked on his door and they all ran to hide. The teacher opened the door. Not seeing anyone, he stepped out onto his porch, slipped, and fell flat on his back in the liquid.
Like I said, I'm glad my students today were better behaved than grandpa's class. I also hope I was a nicer teacher.
Grandpa was raised in Sweden. He started school when he was 7 years old, back in 1905. Back in those days the schools were all work and no play. School was from 9:00 to 3:30, with half an hour for lunch. Each hour they had a five minute recess to run around and get the wiggles out. During the rest of the time students were to sit quietly at their desks, no talking, whispering, or fidgiting.
One day a little girl in Grandpa's class spoke without permission. Their teacher was a very hard man. He walked up behind the girl, grabbed one of her pig-tails, and yanked it. He yanked so hard that he pulled her hair out. The class was furious, but they had no recourse. The teacher ruled and the kids obeyed, and that was that.
That night Grandpa and his friends got together. They were all angry about what their teacher had done and they wanted to find a way to pay him back. Early in the morning before school they went house to house, gathering the contents of everyone's bedpans into one big bucket. This they took to the teacher's house, where they dumped it on his front porch. Then one of the boys knocked on his door and they all ran to hide. The teacher opened the door. Not seeing anyone, he stepped out onto his porch, slipped, and fell flat on his back in the liquid.
Like I said, I'm glad my students today were better behaved than grandpa's class. I also hope I was a nicer teacher.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Happy Groundhogs Day!
Did you know that today is Groundhogs Day? Well, if you're like most of the world, you stopped celebrating it after you graduated from 2nd grade, but it still is a holiday, and it's been around for a long time. Back in early Germany they celebrated Feb. 2nd, which is Candlemas Day, by looking at the sky to see if it was clear or not. If the sun came out and a hedgehog cast its shadow they predicted snow would fall all the way into May. Bummer!
As you might suspect, the prediction isn't right very much of the time, in fact it's been wrong 69 times out of the last 100 years, but oh well. This year Punxsutawney Phil (we use a groundhog here in the USA) saw his shadow, so maybe we'll have 6 more weeks of winter, or maybe not.
When I was little, growing up in the Arizona desert, I always hoped the groundhog would see his shadow. Winter was the best time of the year to me. I also prayed every night that it would snow. Neither desire ever happened, darn it. Usually by the first of February we were enjoying the high 70's, and the 90's and 100's were just around the corner. Tourists loved it, but I dreamed of winter.
Oh well, Phil, I hope you are right this year. Sorry all you easterners who are tired of the snow, you can send it on down to me!
Now, because that wasn't much of a story, I'll add a little one on the end. My Grandpa Johnson was born in Brazil, to Swedish immigrants who didn't like the heat and soon moved back to Sweden where Grandpa was raised. He immigrated to America when he was 20 years old. Grandpa loved to find reasons to celebrate or have a party. He was the only Swede around that wore green on Saint Patricks Day, he celebrated all the other holidays, and even made a special day out of election day. Grandpa died when I was only 4, but I remember sitting on his lap while he told us stories about Peter Rabbit and other fun characters. Then he would always have mom or one of the aunts go get pieces of Wrigleys Spearment Gum to give to all of the grandchildren. He passed away on February 2, 1961. I miss you, Grandpa.
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