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Taking Time to Talk


     ” Taking Time to Talk “

For 52 years my father got up every morning at 5:30am except Sunday and went to work. For 52 years he returned home at 5:30pm like clockwork for dinner at 6:00pm. I never remember my father taking a “night out with the boys,” nor do I ever recall my father drinking.
All he asked from me as his daughter was to hold his hammer while he repaired something just so we could have some time to talk to each other. I never saw my father home from work ill, nor did I ever see my father lay down to take a nap. He had no hobbies other than taking care of his family.
For the 22 years since I left home for college, my father called me every Sunday at 9:00am. He was always interested in my life, how my family was doing, and I never once heard him lament about his lot in life. The calls even came when he and my mother were in Australia, England or Florida.
Nine years ago when I purchased my first house, my father, 67 years old, spent eight hours a day for three days in the 80-degree Kansas heat, painting my house. All he asked, was a glass of iced tea, and that I hold a paint brush for him and talk to him. But I was too busy, I had a law practice to run, and I could not take the time to hold the paint brush or talk to my father.
Five years ago at age 71 again in the sweltering Kansas heat, my father spent five hours putting together a swing set for my daughter. Again all he asked was that I get him a glass of iced tea and talk to him. But again, I had laundry to do and the house to clean.
Four years ago my father drove all the way from Denver to Topeka with an eight foot Colorado Blue Spruce in his trunk, so that my husband and I could have a part of Colorado growing on our land. I was preparing for a trip that weekend and couldn’t spend much time talking to Daddy.
The morning or Sunday, January 16, 1996, my father telephoned me as usual, this time from my sister’s home in Florida. We conversed about the tree he had brought me, “Fat Albert,” but that morning he called the tree “Fat Oscar,” and he had seemed to have forgotten some things we had discussed the previous week. I had to get to church, and I cut the conversation short.
The call came at 4:40pm that day, my father was in the hospital in Florida with an aneurysm. I got on an airplane immediately, and on the way, I thought of all the times I had not taken the time to talk to my father.
I realized that I had no idea who he was or what his deepest thoughts were. I vowed that when I arrived, I would make up for the lost time and have a nice long talk with him and really get to know him.
I arrived in Florida at 1am. My father had passed away at 9:12pm four hours earlier. This time it was he who did not have time to talk nor time to wait for me.
In the years since his death I have learned much about my father and even more about myself. As a father he never asked me for anything but my time, now he has all my attention, every single day.
~ Author Unknown ~

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“The World is Mine”


* The World is Mine *

Today, upon a bus,
I saw a girl with golden hair.
I envied her, she seemed so gay,
And I wished I was as fair.

When suddenly she rose to leave,
I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and used a crutch.
But as she passed, she gave a smile.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have 2 legs, the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy.
The lad who sold it had such charm.
I talked with him, he seemed so glad.
If I were late, it’d do no harm.

And as I left, he said to me,
“I thank you, you’ve been so kind.
It’s nice to talk with folks like you.
You see,” he said, “I’m blind.”

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have 2 eyes, the world is mine.

Later while walking down the street,
I saw a child with eyes of blue.
He stood and watched the others play.
He seemed not to know what to do.

I stopped a moment and then I said,
“Why don’t you join the others dear?”
He looked ahead without a word.
And then I knew he couldn’t hear.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have 2 ears, the world is mine.

With feet to take me where I’d go.
With eyes to see the sunset’s glow.
With ears to hear what I’d know.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine

I’ve been blessed indeed.

The world is mine.

~ The Author Unknown ~

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“If” by Rudyard Kipling

if160In 1883 Rudyard Kipling was a Junior Editor who would with the Editor’s assent intersperse his poems in the left-over spaces of the weekly gazette. After three years he gathered his poems together and republished them with his book being an immediate success.

Then it was one book after another from 1886 until his death in 1936 with the poet’s pen being seldom idle. His books become popular because his poetry expressed the deep soul-sense of men to live up to a standard set by their forebears.

He was by far the most widely read, and the best-loved, poet writing in English at the beginning of this century; every cultured person in the English speaking world was familiar with at least some of his poems. In 1907 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. Below is an example of one of his classic poems. You read it in high school, but now read it carefully again:

“If” by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

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Wise Beyond His Years

stop-sign“I don’t need anyone telling me when to cross the street,” I yelled defiantly at the fourth grade Safety Patrol.

“I’m no little kid, you know!”

I said in my roughest, toughest ten-year-old voice. With that, I crossed the street and made my way home. The next morning I was called to the principal’s office. I was a bit scared but tried my best not to show it.

“You know Mike, this is the third time I have had a complaint about you not obeying the Safety Patrols at the intersections.” (more…)

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