The Stranger

(From an email sent to me several years ago, author unknown....)

A few months before I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors:  Mom taught me the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger?

He was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.

Sometimes Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to her room and read her books. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends, or any visitors. Our long-time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

My Dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in the home, not even for cooking. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked...  and NEVER asked to leave.

More than 50 years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first.

Still, if you were to walk into my parents' den today you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.

His name? We just call him TV.

(P.S. The same can now be said today about the Internet, electronic devices, etc.)

Analogy: Dentists and Teachers

(From an email I received several years ago, author unknown....)

The Best Dentist---"Absolutely" the Best Dentist

My dentist is great! He sends me reminders so I don't forget checkups.

He uses the latest techniques based on research. He never hurts me, and

I've got all my teeth, so when I ran into him the other day, I was eager

to see if he'd heard about the new state program. I knew he'd think it

was great.

"Did you hear about the new state program to measure effectiveness of

dentists with their young patients?" I said.

"No," he said. He didn't seem too thrilled. "How will they do that?"

"It's quite simple," I said. "They will just count the number of

cavities each patient has at age 10, 14, and 18 and average that to

determine a dentist's rating. Dentists will be rated as Excellent, Good,

Average, Below average, and Unsatisfactory. That way parents will know

which are the best dentists. It will also encourage the less effective

dentists to get better," I said. "Poor dentists who don't improve could

lose their licenses to practice."

"That's terrible," he said.

"What? That's not a good attitude," I said. "Don't you think we should

try to improve children's dental health in this state?"

"Sure I do," he said, "but that's not a fair way to determine who is

practicing good dentistry."

"Why not?" I said. "It makes perfect sense to me."

"Well, it's so obvious," he said. "Don't you see that dentists don't all

work with the same clientele; so much depends on things we can't

control? For example," he said, "I work in a rural area with a high

percentage of patients from deprived homes, while some of my colleagues

work in upper middle class neighborhoods. Many of the parents I work

with don’t bring their children to see me until there is some kind of problem and I

don't get to do much preventive work. Also," he said, "many of the

parents I serve let their kids eat way too much candy from an early age,

unlike more educated parents who understand the relationship between sugar and

decay. To top it all off," he added, "so many of my clients have well

water which is untreated and has no fluoride in it. Do you have any idea

how much difference early use of fluoride can make?"

"It sounds like you're making excuses," I said. I couldn't believe my

dentist would be so defensive. He does a great job.

"I am not!" he said. "My best patients are as good as anyone's, my work

is as good as anyone's, but my average cavity count is going to be

higher than a lot of other dentists because I chose to work where I am

needed most."

"Don't' get touchy," I said.

"Touchy?" he said. His face had turned red and from the way he was

clenching and unclenching his jaws, I was afraid he was going to damage

his teeth. "Try furious. In a system like this, I will end up being

rated average, below average, or worse. My more educated patients who

see these ratings may believe this so-called rating actually is a

measure of my ability and proficiency as a dentist. They may leave me,

and I'll be left with only the most needy patients. And my cavity

average score will get even worse. On top of that, how will I attract

good dental hygienists and other excellent dentists to my practice if it

is labeled below average?"

"I think you are overreacting," I said. "'Complaining, excuse making and

stonewalling won't improve dental health'...I am quoting from a leading

member of the DOC," I noted.

"What's the DOC?" he asked.

"It's the Dental Oversight Committee," I said, "a group made up of

mostly laypersons to make sure dentistry in this state gets improved."

"Spare me," he said, "I can't believe this. Reasonable people won't buy

it," the said hopefully.

The program sounded reasonable to me, so I asked, "How else would you

measure good dentistry?"

"Come watch me work," he said. "Observe my processes."

"That's too complicated and time consuming," I said. "Cavities are the

bottom line, and you can't argue with the bottom line. It's an absolute

measure."

"That's what I'm afraid my parents and prospective patients will think.

This can't be happening," he said despairingly.

"Now, now," I said, "don't despair. The state will help you some."

"How?" he said.

"If you're rated poorly, they'll send a dentist who is rated excellent

to help straighten you out," I said brightly.

"You mean," he said, "they'll send a dentist with a wealthy clientele to

show me how to work on severe juvenile dental problems with which I have

probably had much more experience? Big help."

"There you go again," I said. "You aren't acting professionally at all."

"You don't get it," he said. "Doing this would be like grading schools

and teachers on an average score on a test of children's progress

without regard to influences outside the school, the home, the community

served and stuff like that. Why would they do something so unfair to

dentists? No one would ever think of doing that to schools."

I just shook my head sadly, but he had brightened.

"I'm going to write my representatives and senator," he said. "I'll use

the school analogy--surely they will see the point."

He walked off with that look of hope mixed with fear and suppressed

anger that I see in the mirror so often lately.

The Cab Ride

(From an email I received several years ago, author unknown....)

        

        

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.

        

        When I arrived at 2:30 a.m,  the building was dark except for a single

        light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers

        would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.

        

        But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as

        their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of

        danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who

        needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

        

        So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail,

        elderly voice.

        I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long

        pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She

        was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it,

        like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

        

        By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no

        one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with

        sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on

        the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and

        glassware.

        

        "Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase

        to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

        

        She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking

        me for my kindness.

        

        "It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I

        would want my mother treated".

        

        "Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

        

        When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you

        drive through downtown?"

        

        "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

        

        "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a

        hospice".

        

        I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

        

        "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't

        have very long."

        

        I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you

        like me to take?" I asked.

        

        For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the

        building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove

        through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they

        were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse

        that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

        

        Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or

        corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

        

        As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said,

        "I'm tired. Let's go now."

        

        We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

        

        It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway

        that passed under a portico.

        

        Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.

        

        They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have

        been expecting her.

        

        I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.

        

        The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

        

        "How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

        

        "Nothing," I said.

        

        "You have to make a living," she answered.

        

        "There are other passengers," I responded.

        

        Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me

        tightly.

        

        "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

        

        I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.

        

        Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

        

        I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost

        in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

        

        What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient

        to end his shift?

        

        What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven

        away?

        

        On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more

        important in my life.

        

        We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

        

        But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what

        others may consider a small one.

        

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT 'YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID,  BUT  THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

        

        

        We won't get any big surprise in 10 days if we share this with those we

        care about but, we might help make the world a little kinder and more

        compassionate if we keep this in our hearts.

The American Businessman and the Mexican Fisherman

The American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

“Only a little while,” replied the Mexican.

The American then asked, “Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?”

“I have enough to support my family’s immediate needs.”

The American continued. “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my friends. I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, and eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

“But señor, how long will this all take?”

“Fifteen to twenty years,” the American replied.

“But what then, señor?”

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you announce your retirement, sell your company stock to the public, and become very rich. You would make millions.”

“Millions, señor? Then what?”

The American replied, “You could sleep late, fish a little, play with your children, take siesta with your wife, stroll into the village each evening where you would sip wine and play guitar with your friends.”

Tentacles Quote from Joseph Smith

From Elder Orson F. Whitney:

“The Prophet Joseph Smith declared—and he never taught more comforting doctrine—that the eternal sealings of faithful parents and the divine promises made to them for valiant service in the Cause of Truth, would save not only themselves, but likewise their posterity. Though some of the sheep may wander, the eye of the Shepherd is upon them, and sooner or later they will feel the tentacles of Divine Providence reaching out after them and drawing them back to the fold. Either in this life or the life to come, they will return. They will have to pay their debt to justice; they will suffer for their sins; and may tread a thorny path; but if it leads them at last, like the penitent Prodigal, to a loving and forgiving father’s heart and home, the painful experience will not have been in vain. Pray for your careless and disobedient children; hold on to them with your faith. Hope on, trust on, till you see the salvation of God.”

In Conference Report, Apr. 1929, 110.

Are You Sick of Those High-Paid Teachers?

(from an email somebody sent me years ago....)

I, for one, am sick and tired of those high paid teachers. Their hefty salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work nine or ten months a year!

It's time we put things in perspective and pay them for what they do...babysit!

We can get that for less than minimum wage. That's right...I would give them $3.00 dollars an hour and only the hours they worked, not any of that silly planning time.

That would be $15.00 a day. Each parent should pay $15.00 a day for these teachers to babysit their children.

Now, how many do they teach in a day?.... maybe 25.

Then that's 15 X 25 = $375 a day.

But remember they only work 180 days a year!  I'm not going to pay them for any vacations.

Let's see... *that's 375 x180 = $67,500.00 

(Hold on, my calculator must need batteries!)

What about those special teachers or the ones with master's degrees? Well, we could pay them minimum wage just to be fair. Let's round it off to $6.00 an hour. That would be $6.00 times 5 hours times 25 children times 180 days =

 $135,000.00 per year.

Wait a minute, there is something wrong here!!!

Pictures from My Parents' Home

Thoughts

Live with heart. Lift up your head. Bring angels.

Discouragement -- What purpose does it serve? Paralysis. Paralysis! Do I HAVE to be discouraged when hungry, tired, or when bad things happen?

Give freely of your possessions. Give.

When we use our electronic devices we look down. We forget to look up. To people. To relationships. To serve. To God.

Reasons Why the English Language is Hard to Learn

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.

2) The farm was used to produce produce.

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.

19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Rearranged Words and Terms

DORMITORY: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 DIRTY ROOM

PRESBYTERIAN: 

 When you rearrange the letters:

 BEST IN PRAYER

 DESPERATION: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 A ROPE ENDS IT

 GEORGE BUSH: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 HE BUGS GORE

 THE MORSE CODE: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 HERE COME DOTS

 SLOT MACHINES: 

When you rearrange the letters: 

 CASH LOST IN ME

 MOTHER-IN-LAW: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 WOMAN HITLER

 SNOOZE ALARMS: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 ALAS! NO MORE Z 'S

 A DECIMAL POINT: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

I’M A DOT IN PLACE

 THE EARTHQUAKES: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 THAT QUEER SHAKE

 ELEVEN PLUS TWO: 

 When you rearrange the letters: 

 TWELVE PLUS ONE