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Saturday, May 10, 2003
Everyone needs this list to live by:

The most destructive habit......................Worry

The greatest Joy...............................Giving

The greatest loss................Loss of self-respect

The most satisfying work...............Helping others

The ugliest personality trait.............Selfishness

The most endangered species.........Dedicated leaders

Our greatest natural resource...............Our youth

The greatest "shot in the arm"..........Encouragement

The greatest problem to overcome.................Fear

The most effective sleeping pill........Peace of mind

The most crippling failure disease............Excuses

The most powerful force in life..................Love

The most dangerous pariah..................A gossiper

The world's most incredible computer........The brain

The worst thing to be without................... Hope

The deadliest weapon.......................The tongue

The two most power-filled words..............."I Can"

The greatest asset..............................Faith

The most worthless emotion..................Self-pity

The most beautiful attire......................SMILE!

The most prized possession................Integrity

The most powerful channel of communication.....Prayer

The most contagious spirit.................Enthusiasm

The most important thing in life..................GOD

Friday, May 09, 2003
The Horrible Things I Did
by Ron Carnell

When I was just a youngster
The worst that I could do,
Was steal a piece of pie,
And maybe a cookie or two.

But the older I became,
Oh, the horrible things I'd do;
Like stepping on ants and bugs --
The thousands I must have slew.

Now I'm grown, they tell me.
I wear the uniform of my land.
And today I finally did it --
Today I killed a man.

I didn't know his name;
His color was different than mine.
But he must have had a mother
Who'll, somehow, stop crying with time.

And when my tour is over,
And I see my wife and kid,
I'll have to stop and think
Of the horrible thing I did.

And when the fighting’s over,
And this war is finally won,
History will tell our children
Of the horrible things we've done.

My Different Friend
by T

The differences ring out far and near
Yet we only hear the echoes of where our friendship
starts and ends
Boundaries set by color and race
hide my tears
I pray.

Ashamed of my own people
I search for something odd
something different
a chance to end the rage
how much will it take
to stop the hate?

We walk in disbelief of what we really are
scared by our denial of what we've done
disgraced by the color of our face
we play make believe.

Lost souls, lost lives
taken in a great storm
cast down by war and hunger
we think we are supreme
we are nothing.

Walking with the knowing
that a great day will arise
when we fall down on our knees
and whisper, "Why"?

You and I
Alone inside
An empty room
Watching the rose in the vase
On the windowsill die
Watching the moon in the sky
Disappear behind a cloud

Body spirits coincide
Eye to eye touching view
There's only one of you
Who understood my mirror eyes
When you sang it made me cry
For I thought I'd found paradise
But we cannot live for always
I had to leave

Gaining a love for you
Was like walking through the door of one-ness
I was drawn to you like a reflecting image
I loved you
I saw the turmoil
I saw the pain
I felt the evil person inside of you
You were my dreamtime
Those dreams came at a price
No more
I have awoken from this dream
Now I can dream my own dreams ...

Thursday, May 08, 2003
Information Please

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our
neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall.
The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach
the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to
talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device
lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was
nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number
and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day
while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in
the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but
there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home
to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger,
finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged
it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and
held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just
above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.


"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough
now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a
little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for
help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me
with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park
just he day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information
Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things
grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why is
it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only
to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have
sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that
there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9
years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I
somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the
table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never
really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the
serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient,
understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.
I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on
the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I
was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well,


I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me
how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your
finger must have healed by now."

I laughed. "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any
idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder", she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never
had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I
could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" She said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, she said. Sally had been working
part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was


"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other
worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have
you touched today?

Monday, May 05, 2003
"You're My Best Friend" (Deacon)

Ooo, you make me live

whatever this world can give to me

It's you, you're all I see

Ooo, you make me live now honey

Ooo, you make me live

You're the best friend

that I ever had

I've been with you such a long time

You're my sunshine

And I want you to know

That my feelings are true

I really love you

You're my best friend

Ooo, you make me live

I've been wandering round

But I still come back to you

In rain or shine

You've stood by me girl

I'm happy, happy at home

You're my best friend

You're the first one

When things turn out bad

You know I'll never be lonely

You're my only one

And I love

The things that you do

You're my best friend

Ooo, you make me live

I'm happy, happy at home

You're my best friend

You're my best friend

Ooo, you make me live

You, you're my best friend