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Offline irishrick

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Re: something a little different from the archives
« Reply #70 on: April 15, 2011, 10:07:38 PM »
   Two Choices
>
> What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the
> same choice?
>
>
>
> At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that
> would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its
>
> Dedicated staff, he offered a question:
>
> 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.
>
> Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
>
> Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
>
>
>
> The audience was stilled by the query.
>
>
>
> The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to
> realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
>
> Then he told the following story:
>
>
>
> Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most
> of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him
> a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
>
>
>
> I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're
> losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning..'
>
>
>
> Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart.
> The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
>
> In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
>
> In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just
> to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
>
> In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
>
> Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
>
>
>
> At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
>
> Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly,
> much less connect with the ball.
>
>
>
> However, as Shay stepped up to the
>
> Plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball
> in softly so Shay could at least make contact.
>
> The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
>
> The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
>
> As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
>
>
>
> The game would now be over.
>
> The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.
>
> Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
>
>
>
> Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
>
> Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
>
> Run to first!'
>
> Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
>
> He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
>
>
>
> Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'
>
> Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
>
> By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the
> hero for his team.
>
> He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball
> high and far over the third-baseman's head.
>
> Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
>
>
>
> All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
>
>
>
> Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
>
> Shay, run to third!'
>
>
>
> As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
>
> Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
>
>
>
> 'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity
> into this world'.
>
>
>
> Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing
> his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
>
>
>
> AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
>
> We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people
> hesitate.
>
> The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and
> workplaces.
>
>
>
> If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the
> 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.
>
> We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'
>
> So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
>
> Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
>
>
>
> A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
>
>
>
> You now have two choices:
>
> 1. Delete
>
> 2. Forward
>
> May your day, be a Shay Day.
> MAY GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO
> DECIDES TO PASS THIS ON IN
>
>
> MEMORY OF SHAY..............
>

Offline irishrick

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heaven
« Reply #71 on: September 23, 2011, 09:08:17 PM »
A man and his dog were walking along a road.
The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road.

It looked like fine marble..

At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.



When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'

'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.

'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.

'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.'

The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked.

'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed.

There was no fence.

 

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book....

 




 


'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'

'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog.

'There should be a bowl by the pump,' said the man.

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.

'This is Heaven,' he answered.

'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said.

'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'

'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell.'

'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'



 

'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

Offline irishrick

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Christmas at the old garage
« Reply #72 on: December 13, 2012, 02:13:20 PM »
Christmas at the old garage

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He
didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to
himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."

George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said. George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"

Merry Christmas!!

This story is better than any greeting card.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!

Offline willie c wuddle

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Re: something a little different from the archives
« Reply #73 on: December 14, 2012, 02:00:48 AM »
Wowsers! Service with a smile, and less than $65.00 an hour.
 If yoo can brrrrew scottish whiskey in yourrr bagpipes, then yourr're a Plaidneck, laddie. - Jeff Scotsworthy