In September 1960, I woke up one morning with
six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket.
their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven
years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a
presence they feared.
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be
no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knewnothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off
to find a job.The seven of us went to every factory, store and
restaurant in our small town. No luck.
The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried
to be quiet while I tried to convince who ever would
listen that I was
willing to learn
or do anything. I had to have a job.
Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a
few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel
drive-in t hat had been converted to a truck stop.
It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.
She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at
night until seven in the morning.
She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start
that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the
street that baby-sat for people.
I bargained with her to come and sleep on my
sofa for a dollar a night.
She could arrive with her pajamas on and the
kids would already be asleep.
This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so
we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to
say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding
Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the
baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of
my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added a
strain to my meager wage.
The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency
of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill
them with air on the
way to work and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires!
There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.
Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was no w working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough.
Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.I found a can of red paint and started repairing
and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.
Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches
on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they
would be too far gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.
A few musicians were hanging around after a gig
at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the
pinball machine.
The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.
When it was time for me to go home at seven
o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my
old battered Chevy was
filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.
I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled
inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.
Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box.
Inside was whole case of little blue jeans,
sizes 2-10!
I looked inside another box: It was full of
shirts to go with the jeans.
Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes.
There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of
groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and
canned vegetables and potatoes.
There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie
filling and flour. There was whole bag of laundry
supplies and cleaning
items.
And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful
little doll.
As I drove back through empty streets as the sun
slowly rose on the
most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was
sobbing with gratitude.
And I will never forget the joy on the faces of
my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago
December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel
truck stop....
THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:
1. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Why boys need mothers
Subject: Why Boys need Parents:
This is for those mothers of boys, sisters of boys, and boys that have grown older, and anyone else who needs a laugh.
Why boys need parents...
!
This is for those mothers of boys, sisters of boys, and boys that have grown older, and anyone else who needs a laugh.
Why boys need parents...
!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sack lunches
I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. I'm glad I have a good book to read Perhaps I will get a short nap,I thought.
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation. 'Where are you headed?' I asked the soldier seated nearest to me. 'Petawawa. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan.
After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to base." His friend agreed.
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch... I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. "Take a lunch to all those soldiers." She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. "My son was a soldier in Iraq;it's almost like you are doing it for him."
Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, "Which do you like best - beef or chicken?"
"Chicken," I replied, wondering why she asked.
She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. "This is your thanks."
After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room.
A man stopped me. "I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this." He handed me twenty-five dollars.
Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, and said, "I want to shake your hand."
Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, "I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot." I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs.
A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.
When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. "It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You."
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little...
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of "up to and including my life."
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.
May God give you the strength and courage to pass this along to everyone on your email buddy list -- I JUST DID
Signed,
Proud to be an American
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation. 'Where are you headed?' I asked the soldier seated nearest to me. 'Petawawa. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan.
After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to base." His friend agreed.
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch... I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. "Take a lunch to all those soldiers." She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. "My son was a soldier in Iraq;it's almost like you are doing it for him."
Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, "Which do you like best - beef or chicken?"
"Chicken," I replied, wondering why she asked.
She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. "This is your thanks."
After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room.
A man stopped me. "I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this." He handed me twenty-five dollars.
Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, and said, "I want to shake your hand."
Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, "I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot." I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs.
A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.
When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. "It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You."
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little...
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of "up to and including my life."
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.
May God give you the strength and courage to pass this along to everyone on your email buddy list -- I JUST DID
Signed,
Proud to be an American
Saturday, March 21, 2009
ONLY HAVING LIVED IN ALBUQUERQUE
YOU WILL UNDERSTAND ONLY HAVING LIVED IN ALBUQUERQUE... You don't think it's weird that everybody stares at you when you walk into the Frontier.
(For you out-of-towners, it's a cafe right across from UNM)You snicker whenever someone from out of state tries to pronounce your last name.You've had a school day cancelled because there was half an inch of snow on the ground.You know what an Arroyo is.Your high school's name was a Spanish word (La Cueva, Eldorado, Sandia, Manzano...)You still call the "Flying Star" the "Double Rainbow" and it's still the best place to get dessert in the world!There is a kachina somewhere in your home or yard.You believe that bags of sand with a candle in them are perfectly acceptable Christmas decorations.You have license plates on your walls, but not on your car.Most restaurants you go to begin with El or Los.You remember when Santa Fe was not like San Francisco.You hated Texans until the Californians moved in.You price-shop for tortillas.You have an extra freezer just for green chile.You think a red light is merely a suggestion.You believe using a turn signal is a sign of weaknessYou don't make eye contact with other drivers because you can't tell how well armed they are just by looking.You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful front lawn.You have to sign a waiver to buy hot coffee at a drive-up window.You ran for state legislature so you can speed legally.You have read a book while driving from Albuquerque to Las Vegas.You know they don't skate at the Ice House and the Newsstand doesn't sell newspapers.You think Sadies was better when it was in the bowling alley and the Owl Bar was better before they put in the turn-off.You have used aluminum foil and duct tape to repair your air conditioner.You can't control your car on wet pavement.There is a piece of a UFO displayed in your home.You wish you had invested in the orange barrel business.You just got your fifth DWI and got elected to the state legislature in the same week.Your swamp cooler got knocked off your roof by a dust devil.You have been on TV more than three times telling about how your neighbor was shot or about your alien abduction.You can actually hear the Taos hum.All your out-of-state friends and relatives visit in OctoberYou know Vegas is a town in the northeastern part of the state.You are afraid to drive through Mora and Espanola.You iron your jeans to dress up.You don't see anything wrong with drive-up window liquor sales.Your other vehicle is also a pick-up truck.Two of your cousins are in Santa Fe, one in the legislature and the other in the state pen.You know the punch line to at least one Espanola joke.Your car is missing a fender or bumper (or a turn signal and aligned headlights).You have driven to an Indian Casino at 3 a.m. because you were hungry.You know the response to the question "red or green?"You're relieved when the pavement ends because the dirt road has fewer pot- holes.You can correctly pronounce Tesuque, Cerrillos, and Pojoaque, and know the Organ Mountains are not a phallic symbol!You have been told by at least one out-of-state vendor they are going to charge you extra for international shipping.You expect to pay more if your house is made of mud.You can order your Big Mac with green chile.You see nothing odd when, in the conversations of the people in line around you at the grocery store, every other word of each sentence alternates between Spanish and English.You associate bridges with mud, not water.You know you will run into at least three cousins whenever you shop at Wal-Mart, Sam's or Home Depot.Tumbleweeds and various cacti in your yard are not weeds. They are your lawn.If you travel anywhere, no matter if just to run to the gas station, you must bring along a bottle of water and some moisturizer.Trailers are not referred to as trailers. They are houses. Double-wide trailers are real houses.A package of white flour tortillas is the exact same thing as a loaf of bread. You don't need to write it on your shopping list; it's a given.At any gathering, regardless of size, green chile stew, tortillas, and huge mounds of shredded cheese are mandatory.Prosperity can be readily determined by the number of horses you own.A rattlesnake is an occasional hiking hazard. No need to freak out.You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from New Mexico
(For you out-of-towners, it's a cafe right across from UNM)You snicker whenever someone from out of state tries to pronounce your last name.You've had a school day cancelled because there was half an inch of snow on the ground.You know what an Arroyo is.Your high school's name was a Spanish word (La Cueva, Eldorado, Sandia, Manzano...)You still call the "Flying Star" the "Double Rainbow" and it's still the best place to get dessert in the world!There is a kachina somewhere in your home or yard.You believe that bags of sand with a candle in them are perfectly acceptable Christmas decorations.You have license plates on your walls, but not on your car.Most restaurants you go to begin with El or Los.You remember when Santa Fe was not like San Francisco.You hated Texans until the Californians moved in.You price-shop for tortillas.You have an extra freezer just for green chile.You think a red light is merely a suggestion.You believe using a turn signal is a sign of weaknessYou don't make eye contact with other drivers because you can't tell how well armed they are just by looking.You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful front lawn.You have to sign a waiver to buy hot coffee at a drive-up window.You ran for state legislature so you can speed legally.You have read a book while driving from Albuquerque to Las Vegas.You know they don't skate at the Ice House and the Newsstand doesn't sell newspapers.You think Sadies was better when it was in the bowling alley and the Owl Bar was better before they put in the turn-off.You have used aluminum foil and duct tape to repair your air conditioner.You can't control your car on wet pavement.There is a piece of a UFO displayed in your home.You wish you had invested in the orange barrel business.You just got your fifth DWI and got elected to the state legislature in the same week.Your swamp cooler got knocked off your roof by a dust devil.You have been on TV more than three times telling about how your neighbor was shot or about your alien abduction.You can actually hear the Taos hum.All your out-of-state friends and relatives visit in OctoberYou know Vegas is a town in the northeastern part of the state.You are afraid to drive through Mora and Espanola.You iron your jeans to dress up.You don't see anything wrong with drive-up window liquor sales.Your other vehicle is also a pick-up truck.Two of your cousins are in Santa Fe, one in the legislature and the other in the state pen.You know the punch line to at least one Espanola joke.Your car is missing a fender or bumper (or a turn signal and aligned headlights).You have driven to an Indian Casino at 3 a.m. because you were hungry.You know the response to the question "red or green?"You're relieved when the pavement ends because the dirt road has fewer pot- holes.You can correctly pronounce Tesuque, Cerrillos, and Pojoaque, and know the Organ Mountains are not a phallic symbol!You have been told by at least one out-of-state vendor they are going to charge you extra for international shipping.You expect to pay more if your house is made of mud.You can order your Big Mac with green chile.You see nothing odd when, in the conversations of the people in line around you at the grocery store, every other word of each sentence alternates between Spanish and English.You associate bridges with mud, not water.You know you will run into at least three cousins whenever you shop at Wal-Mart, Sam's or Home Depot.Tumbleweeds and various cacti in your yard are not weeds. They are your lawn.If you travel anywhere, no matter if just to run to the gas station, you must bring along a bottle of water and some moisturizer.Trailers are not referred to as trailers. They are houses. Double-wide trailers are real houses.A package of white flour tortillas is the exact same thing as a loaf of bread. You don't need to write it on your shopping list; it's a given.At any gathering, regardless of size, green chile stew, tortillas, and huge mounds of shredded cheese are mandatory.Prosperity can be readily determined by the number of horses you own.A rattlesnake is an occasional hiking hazard. No need to freak out.You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from New Mexico
SOME THINGS ARE JUST BETTER RICH!
GENTLEMAN PLEASE DO NOT GET UPSET OVER THIS POST.
BEHIND EVERY SUCCESSFUL WOMAN IS HERSELF!!!!
A WOMAN IS LIKE A TEA BAG...
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW STRONG SHE IS
UNTIL YOU PUT HER IN HOT WATER!
I HAVE YET TO HEAR A MAN ASK FOR ADVICE ON
HOW TO COMBINE MARRIAGE AND A CAREER!
COFFEE, CHOCOLATE, MEN. S
SOME THINGS ARE JUST BETTER RICH!
I'M OUT OF ESTROGEN
And I HAVE A GUN WARNING:
I HAVE AN ATTITUDE
AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT!!!!!!!!
OF COURSE I DON'T LOOK BUSY...
I DID IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME!!!
DO NOT START WITH ME.
YOU WILL NOT WIN!!!!!!
ALL STRESSED OUT AND NO ONE TO CHOKE!!!!!
And last but not least:
IF YOU WANT BREAKFAST IN BED, SLEEP IN THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!
Send this to your friends and brighten their day!
1.
BEHIND EVERY SUCCESSFUL WOMAN IS HERSELF!!!!
A WOMAN IS LIKE A TEA BAG...
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW STRONG SHE IS
UNTIL YOU PUT HER IN HOT WATER!
I HAVE YET TO HEAR A MAN ASK FOR ADVICE ON
HOW TO COMBINE MARRIAGE AND A CAREER!
COFFEE, CHOCOLATE, MEN. S
SOME THINGS ARE JUST BETTER RICH!
I'M OUT OF ESTROGEN
And I HAVE A GUN WARNING:
I HAVE AN ATTITUDE
AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT!!!!!!!!
OF COURSE I DON'T LOOK BUSY...
I DID IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME!!!
DO NOT START WITH ME.
YOU WILL NOT WIN!!!!!!
ALL STRESSED OUT AND NO ONE TO CHOKE!!!!!
And last but not least:
IF YOU WANT BREAKFAST IN BED, SLEEP IN THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!
Send this to your friends and brighten their day!
1.
God is neglected, the old soldier slighted.
Who are the real stars? For many years Ben Stein has written a bi-weekly column for the E! Online website called "Monday Night At Morton's. Now, Ben is terminating the column to move on to other things in his life. I think that reading his final column paean to our military is worth a few minutes of your time. ============================================= How Can Someone Who Lives in Insane Luxury Be a Star in Today's World? As I begin to write this, I "slug" it, as we writers say, which means I put a heading on top of the document to identify it. This heading is "E! online FINAL," and it gives me a shiver to write it. I have been doing this column for so long that I cannot even recall when I started. But again, all things must pass, and my column for E! Online must pass. In a way, it is actually the perfect time for it to pass. Lew, whom I have known forever, was impressed that I knew so many stars at Morton's on Monday nights. He could not get over it, in fact. So, he said I should write a column about the stars I saw at Morton's and what they had to say. It worked well for a long time, but gradually, my changing as a person and the world's change have overtaken it. On a small scale, Morton's, while better than ever, no longer attracts as many stars as it used to. It still brings in the rich people in droves and definitely some stars. I saw Samuel L. Jackson there a few days ago, and we had a nice visit, and right before that, I saw and had a splendid talk with Warren Beatty in an elevator, in which we agreed that Splendor in the Grass was a super movie. But Morton's is not the star galaxy it once was, though it probably will be again. Beyond that, a bigger change has happened. I no longer think Hollywood stars are terribly important. They are uniformly pleasant, friendly people, and they treat me better than I deserve to be treated. But a man or woman who makes a huge wage for memorizing lines and reciting them in front of a camera is no longer my idea of a shining star we should all look up to. How can a man or woman who makes an eight-figure wage and lives in insane luxury really be a star in today's world, if by a "star" we mean someone bright and powerful and attractive as a role model? Real stars are not riding around in the backs of limousines or in Porsches or getting trained in yoga or Pilates and eating only raw fruit while they have Vietnamese girls do their nails. They can be interesting, nice people, but they are not heroes to me any longer. A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world. A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to a road north of Baghdad. He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him. A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with a piece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad. The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered and stripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists. We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of our magazines. The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but stand on guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and near the Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die. I am no longer comfortable being a part of the system that has such poor values, and I do not want to perpetuate those values by pretending that who is eating at Morton's is a big subject. There are plenty of other stars in the American firmament. The policemen and women who go off on patrol in South Central and have no idea if they will return alive. The orderlies and paramedics who bring in people who have been in terrible accidents and prepare them for surgery. The teachers and nurses who throw their whole spirits into caring for autistic children. The kind men and women who work in hospices and in cancer wards. Think of each and every fireman who was running up the stairs at the World Trade Center as the towers began to collapse. Now you have my idea of a real hero. Last column, I told you a few of the rules I had learned to keep my sanity. Well, here is a final one to help you keep your sanity and keep you in the running for stardom: We are puny, insignificant creatures. We are not responsible for the operation of the universe, and what happens to us is not terribly important. God is real, not a fiction, and when we turn over our lives to Him, he takes far better care of us than we could ever do for ourselves. In a word, we make ourselves sane when we fire ourselves as the directors of the movie of our lives and turn the power over to Him. I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters. This is my highest and best use as a human. I can put it another way. Years ago, I realized I could never be as great an actor as Olivier or as good a comic as Steve Martin--or Martin Mull or Fred Willard--or as good an economist as Samuelson or Friedman or as good a writer as Fitzgerald. Or even remotely close to any of them. But I could be a devoted father to my son, husband to my wife and, above all, a good son to the parents who had done so much for me. This came to be my main task in life. I did it moderately well with my son, pretty well with my wife and well indeed with my parents (with my sister's help). I cared for and paid attention to them in their declining years. I stayed with my father as he got sick, went into extremis and then into a coma and then entered immortality. This was the only point at which my life touched the lives of the soldiers in Iraq or the firefighters in New York. I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters and that it is my duty, in return for the lavish life God has devolved upon me, to help others He has placed in my path. This is my highest and best use as a human. God and the soldier all men adore in times of trouble, but no more. For when war is ended and all things righted, God is neglected, the old soldier slighted.
1.
1.
"Don't sell that cow."
I love this one, two of my great aunts were nns and helped raise my mother. Thank you Sister Josina and Sister Romalda of the Loretto Order of Nuns in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The 98 year old Mother Superior from Ireland was dying. The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her last journey comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink but she refused.Then one of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen.Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.Back at Mother Superior's bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother drank a little, then a little more and before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop."Mother," the nuns asked with earnest, "please give us some wisdom before you die."She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, "Don't sell that cow."
The 98 year old Mother Superior from Ireland was dying. The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her last journey comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink but she refused.Then one of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen.Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.Back at Mother Superior's bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother drank a little, then a little more and before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop."Mother," the nuns asked with earnest, "please give us some wisdom before you die."She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, "Don't sell that cow."
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