~ In a world that moves so quickly, I endeavor to offer a place to experience a brief respite, in your daily round. I welcome your comments, and appreciate your visit. ~ Mile buiochas!
~ Siochain De'agus Slainte'!
On my fiftieth birthday, my eldest daughter gave me a pin that said "Fifty is Nifty." I wore it to work that day, and what fun it was! All day, people kept saying things to me, such as, " Anita, you don't look fifty," or "Why, Anita, you can't be fifty, and "We know you can't be fifty."
It was wonderful. Now, I knew they were lying, and they knew I knew, but isn't that what friends and co-workers are for? To lie to you when you need it, in times of emergency, like divorce and death and turning fifty.
Y ou know how it is with a lie, though. You hear it often enough, and you begin to think it's true. By the end of the day, I felt fabulous. I fairly floated home from work. In fact, on the way home, I thought: I really ought to dump my husband. After all, the geezer was fifty-one, way too olde for a young-looking gal like me.
Arriving home, I had shut the front door when the doorbell rang. It was a young girl from a florist shop,
bringing birthday flowers from a friend. They were lovely. I stood in my doorway holding the flowers and admiring them, while the delivery girl stood there, waiting for a tip.
She noticed the pin on my jacket and said, " Oh, fifty, eh?"
"Yes," I answered, and waited. I could stand one last compliment before my birthday ended.
"Fifty," she repeated. "That's great! Birthday or anniversary?"
Once, at the University of California, a student got up to say that it was impossible for people of Ronald Reagan's generation to understand the next generation of young people. "You grew up in a different world,"the student said. "Today we have television, jet planes, space travel, nuclear energy, computers..."
While the student paused for a breath, Ronnie said,"You're right. We didn't have those things when we were young. We invented them."
Joe was a drunk who was miraculously converted at a Bowery mission. Prior to his conversion, Joe had gained the reputation of being a hopeless wino for whom there was no hope, only a miserable existence in the ghetto. But following his conversion to a new life with God, everything changed. Joe became the most caring person that anyone associated with the mission had ever known.
Joe spent his days and nights hanging out at the mission, doing whatever needed to be done. There was never any task that was too lowly for Joe to take on. There was never anything that he was asked to do that he considered beneath him. Whether it was cleaning up the vomit left by some violently sick person or scrubbing the toilets after careless men left the men's room filthy, Joe did what was asked with a smile on his face and a seeming gratitude for the chance to help. He could be counted on to feed feeble men who wandered into the mission off the street and to undress and tuck into bed men who were to out of it to take care of themselves.
One evening, when the mission director was delivering his evangelistic message to the usual crowd of still and sullen men with drooped heads, one man looked up,came down the aisle to the alter and knelt to pray, crying out for God to help him change. The repentant drunk kept shouting, "Oh God! Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe!"
The director leaned over and said to the man, "Son, I think it would be better if you prayed, "Make me like Jesus!"
The man looked up at the director with a quizzical expression on his face and asked, "Is he like Joe?"