Stories
and Inspirational Messages:
If I
Were The Devil:
Submitted by Dave Singer
- IF I WERE THE DEVIL
(From Paul Harvey)
- I would gain control of the most powerful nation in
the world;
-
- I would delude their minds into thinking that they
had come from man's effort, instead of God's blessings;
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- I would promote an attitude of loving things and
using people, instead of the other way around;
-
- I would dupe entire states into relying on gambling
for their state revenue;
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- I would convince people that character is not an
issue when it comes to leadership;
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- I would make it legal to take the life of unborn
babies;
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- I would make it socially acceptable to take one's
own life, and invent machines to make it convenient;
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- I would cheapen human life as much as possible, so
that the lives of animals are valued more than human beings;
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- I would take God out of the schools, where even the
mention of His name was grounds for a lawsuit;
-
- I would come up with drugs that sedate the mind and
target the young, and I would get sports heroes to advertise them;
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- I would get control of the media, so that every
night I could pollute the mind of every family member for my agenda;
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- I would attack the family, the backbone of any
nation;
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- I would make divorce acceptable and easy, even
fashionable, because if the family crumbles, so does the nation;
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- I would compel people to express their most depraved
fantasies on canvas and movie screens, and I would call it art;
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- I would convince the world that people are born
homosexuals, and that their lifestyles should be accepted and marveled;
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- I would convince the people that right and wrong are
determined by a few who call themselves authorities, and refer to their agenda as
politically correct;
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- I would persuade people that the church is
irrelevant and out of date, and the Bible is for the naive;
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- I would dull the minds of Christians, and make them
believe that prayer is not important, and that faithfulness and obedience are optional;
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- I guess I would leave things pretty much the way
they are.
-
- Good Day
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Lillian was a young French Canadian girl who grew
up in the farming community of River Canard, Ontario. At the age of 16, her father thought
"Lill has had enough schooling," and she was forced to drop out of school to
contribute to the family income. In 1922, with English as her second language and limited
education and skills, the future didn’t look bright for Lill.
Her father, Eugene Bezaire, was a stern man who
rarely took no for an answer and never accepted excuses. He demanded that Lill find a job.
But her limitations left her with little confidence and low self-esteem, and she
didn’t know what work she could do.
With small hope of gaining employment, she would
still ride the bus daily into the "big cities" of Windsor or Detroit. But she
couldn’t muster the courage to respond to a Help Wanted ad; she couldn’t even
bring herself to knock on a door. Each day she would just ride to the city, walk aimlessly
about and at dusk return home. Her father would ask, "Any luck today, Lill?"
"No...no luck today, Dad," she would
respond meekly.
As the days passed, Lill continued to ride and her
father continued to ask about her job-hunting. The questions became more demanding, and
Lill knew she would soon have to knock on a door.
On one of her trips, Lill saw a sign at the
Carhartt Overall Company in downtown Detroit. "Help Wanted," the sign said,
"Secretarial. Apply Within."
She walked up the long flight of stairs to the
Carhartt Company offices. Cautiously, Lill knocked on her very first door. She was met by
the office manager, Margaret Costello. In her broken English, Lill told her she was
interested in the secretarial position, falsely stating that she was 19. Margaret knew
something wasn’t right, but decided to give the girl a chance.
She guided Lill through the old business office of
the Carhartt Company. With rows and rows of people seated at rows and rows of typewriters
and adding machines, Lill felt as if a hundred pairs of eyes were staring at her. With her
chin on her chest and her eyes staring down, the reluctant farm girl followed Margaret to
the back of the somber room. Margaret sat her down at a typewriter and said, "Lill,
let’s see how good you really are."
She directed Lill to type a single letter, and then
left. Lill looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:40 a.m. Everyone would be leaving
for lunch at noon. She figured that she could slip away in the crowd then. But she knew
she should at least attempt the letter.
On her first try, she got through one line. It had
five words, and she made four mistakes. She pulled the paper out and threw it away. The
clock now read 11:45. "At noon," she said to herself, "I’ll move out
with the crowd, and they will never see me again."
On her second attempt, Lill got through a full
paragraph, but still made many mistakes. Again she pulled out the paper, threw it out and
started over. This time she completed the letter, but her work was still strewn with
errors. She looked at the clock: 11:55 - five minutes to freedom.
Just then, the door at one end of the office opened
and Margaret walked in. She came directly over to Lill, putting one hand on the desk and
the other on the girl’s shoulder. She read the letter and paused. Then she said,
"Lill, you’re doing good work!"
Lill was stunned. She looked at the letter, then up
at Margaret. With those simple words of encouragement, her desire to escape vanished and
her confidence began to grow. She thought, "Well, if she thinks it’s good, then
it must be good. I think I’ll stay!"
Lill did stay at Carhartt Overall Company...for 51
years, through two world wars and a Depression, through 11 presidents and six prime
ministers - all because someone had the insight to give a shy and uncertain young girl the
gift of self-esteem when she knocked on the door.
- Dedicated to Lillian Kennedy by James M. Kennedy
(son) and James C. Kennedy (grandson) from Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work Copyright
1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Maida Rogerson, Martin Rutte & Tim Clauss
(TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Why
Talk Is Cheap (Axioms):
Submitted by Jay Berkshire
- WHY TALK IS CHEAP... ...and other life
explanations.
- 1) Never be afraid to try something new
Remember, amateurs built the ark. Professionals built the Titanic.
2) Conscience is what hurts when everything else feels so good.
3) Talk is cheap because supply exceeds demand.
4) Stupidity got us into this mess -- why can't it get us out?
5) Love is grand; divorce is a hundred grand.
6) Even if you are on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit
there.
7) Politicians and diapers have one thing in common. They should both be
changed regularly and for the same reason.
8) An optimist thinks that this is the best possible world. A pessimist
fears that this is true.
9) There is always death and taxes; however, death doesn't get worse
every year.
10) People will accept your ideas much more readily if you tell them that Benjamin
Franklin said it first.
11) It's easier to fight for one's principles than to live up to them.
12) I don't mind going nowhere as long as it's an interesting path.
13) Anything free is worth what you pay for it.
14) Indecision is the key to flexibility.
15) It hurts to be on the cutting edge.
16) If it ain't broke, fix it till it is.
17) In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday.
18) I always wanted to be a procrastinator; never got around to it.
19) Not afraid of heights -- afraid of widths.
20) Dijon vu -- the same mustard as before.
21) My inferiority complex is not as good as yours.
22) I am having an out-of-money experience.
23) I plan on living forever. So far, so good.
24) I am in shape. Round is a shape.
25) A day without sunshine is like night.
26) I have kleptomania, but when it gets bad, I take something for it.
27) If marriage were outlawed, only outlaws would have in-laws.
28) You're getting old when you get the same sensation from a rocking chair that you once
got from a roller coaster.
29) One of life's mysteries is how a two-pound box of candy can make you gain five pounds.
30) It's frustrating when you know all the answers but nobody bothers to ask you the
questions.
31) The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right time, but
also to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
32) Time may be a great healer, but it's also a lousy beautician.
33) Brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells live forever.
34) Age doesn't always bring wisdom. Sometimes age comes alone.
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
My
Resignation:
Read on......
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like
to accept the responsibilities of a 5-year-old again.
I want to go to McDonald's and think
that it's a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh
mud puddle and make ripples in a pond with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better
than money because you can eat them.
I want to lie under a big oak tree and
watch the ants march up its trunk.
I want to run a lemonade stand with my
friends on a hot summer's day.
I want to think a quarter is worth
more than a dollar bill cause its prettier and weighs more.
I want to go fishing and care more
about catching the minnows along the shore than the big bass in the lake.
I want to return to a time when life
was simple. When all you knew were colours, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes.
When I didn't know what I know now. When all I knew was to be happy because I was
blissfully unaware of all the things that should make me worried.
I want to think the world is fair.
I want to think that everyone is
honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be oblivious to the
complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live
simple....................Yeah.......simple again. I don't want my day to consist of
computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the
month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and the loss of
loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of
smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, dreams, the imagination, Santa, the Tooth Fairy, a kiss
that makes a boo boo go away, making angels in the snow and that my dad and Jesus are the
strongest people in the world.
So.....here's my chequebook and my
car-keys, my credit cards and the bills too, my 401K statements, my stocks & bonds, my
collections, my insurance premiums, my job, my house and the payments too, my e-mail
address, pager, cell phone, computer, and watch. I am officially resigning from adulthood.
And if you want to discuss this with me further, you'll have to catch me first, cause!!
(TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Another Perspective:
Lord, thank thee for this sink of dirty dishes, We
have plenty of food to eat.
Thank thee for this pile of dirty, stinky laundry,
We have plenty of nice clothes to wear.
And I would like to thank thee Lord, for those
unmade beds in there, They were so warm and so comfortable last night. I know that many
have no bed.
My thanks to thee Lord, for this bathroom, complete
with all the splattered mirrors, soggy, grimy towels and dirty lavatory, They are so
convenient.
Thank thee for this finger-smudged refrigerator
that needs defrosting so badly, it has served us faithfully for many years. It is full of
cold drinks and enough leftovers for two or three meals.
Thank thee Lord, for this oven that absolutely must
be cleaned today, It has baked so many things over the years.
The whole family is grateful for that tall grass
that needs mowing and the lawn that needs raking, We all enjoy the yard.
Thank thee Lord, even for that slamming screen
door, My kids are healthy and able to run and play.
Lord, the presence of all these chores awaiting me
says thou hast richly blessed my family. I shall do them all cheerfully and I shall do
them gratefully. And all the grateful parents say?? AMEN!"
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Preparing for Children (A Couples
Guide!): Humorous Yet TRUE!
1. Women: to prepare for maternity, put on a
dressing gown and stick a beanbag down the front. Leave it there for 9 months. After 9
months, take out 10% of the beans. Men: to prepare for paternity, go to the local chemist,
tip the contents of your wallet on the counter, and tell the pharmacist to help himself.
Then go to the supermarket. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head
office. Go home. Pick up the paper. Read it for the last time.
2. Before you finally go ahead and have children,
find a couple who are already parents and berate them about their methods of discipline,
lack of patience, appallingly low tolerance levels, and how they have allowed their
children to run riot. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child's sleeping
habits, toilet training, table manners and overall behavior. Enjoy it - it'll be the last
time in your life that you will have all the answers.
3. To discover how the nights will feel, walk
around the living room from 5 pm to 10 pm carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8-12
lbs. At 10 pm put the bag down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep. Get up at 12
and walk around the living room again, with the bag, till 1am. Put the alarm on for 3am.
As you can't get back to sleep get up at 2am and make a drink. Go to bed at 2.45 am. Get
up again at 3 am when the alarm goes off. Sing songs in the dark until 4 am. Put the alarm
on for 5 am. Get up. Make breakfast. Keep this up for 5 years. Look cheerful.
4. Can you stand the mess children make? To find
out, smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains. Hide a fish finger
behind the stereo and leave it there all summer. Stick your fingers in the flowerbeds then
rub them on the clean walls. Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?
5. Dressing small children is not as easy as it
seems: first buy an octopus and a string bag. Attempt to put the octopus into the string
bag so that none of the arms hang out. Time allowed for this -- all morning.
6. Take an egg carton. Using a pair of scissors and
a pot of paint turn it into an alligator. Now take a toilet tube. Using only scotch tape
and a piece of foil, turn it into a Christmas cracker. Last, take a milk container, a ping
pong ball, and an empty packet of Coco Pops and make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower.
Congratulations. You have just qualified for a place on the playgroup committee.
7. Forget the Miata and buy a Taurus. And don't
think you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don't look
like that. Buy a chocolate ice cream bar and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it
there. Get a quarter. Stick it in the cassette player. Take a family-size packet of
chocolate cookies. Mash them down the back seats. Run a garden rake along both sides of
the car. There. Perfect.
8. Get ready to go out. Wait outside the toilet for
half an hour. Go out the front door. Come in again. Go out. Come back in. Go out again.
Walk down the front path. Walk back up it. Walk down it again. Walk very slowly down the
road for 5 minutes. Stop to inspect minutely every cigarette end, piece of used chewing
gum, dirty tissue and dead insect along the way. Retrace your steps. Scream that you've
had as much as you can stand, until the neighbors come out and stare at you. Give up and
go back into the house. You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a
walk.
9. Always repeat everything you say at least five
times.
10. Go to your local supermarket. Take with you the
nearest thing you can find to a pre-school child - a fully grown goat is excellent. If you
intend to have more than one child, take more than one goat. Buy your week's groceries
without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goats eat or destroy.
Until you can easily accomplish this do not even contemplate having children.
11. Hollow out a melon. Make a small hole in the
side. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side. Now get a bowl of soggy
Weetabix and attempt to spoon it into the swaying melon by pretending to be an aeroplane.
Continue until half the Weetabix is gone. Tip the rest into your lap, making sure that a
lot of it falls on the floor. You are now ready to feed a 12-month old baby.
12. Learn the names of every character from Postman
Pat, Fireman Sam and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When you find yourself singing Postman
Pat at work, you finally qualify as a parent. (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
A Reflection On Todays Society -
Woman vs. Man:
Submitted by Dave Singer
1. If you put a woman on a pedestal and try to
protect her from the rat race, you're a male chauvinist.
2. If you stay home and do the housework, you're a pansy.
3. If you work too hard, there is never any time for her.
4. If you don't work enough, you're a good-for-nothing bum.
5. If she has a boring repetitive job with low pay, this is exploitation.
6. If you have a boring repetitive job with low pay, you should get off your butt and find
something better.
7. If you get a promotion ahead of her, that is favoritism. If she gets a job ahead of
you, it's equal opportunity.
8. If you mention how nice she looks, it's sexual harassment. If you keep quiet, it's male
indifference.
9. If you cry, you're a wimp.
10. If you don't, you're insensitive.
11. If you make a decision without consulting her, you're a chauvinist.
12. If she makes a decision without consulting you, she's a liberated woman.
13. If you ask her to do something she doesn't enjoy, that's domination.
14. If she asks you, it's a favor.
15. If you appreciate the female form and frilly underwear, you're a pervert.
16. If you don't, you're gay.
17. If you like a woman to shave her legs and keep in shape, you're sexist.
18. If you don't, you're unromantic
19. If you try to keep yourself in shape, you're vain.
20. If you don't, you're a slob.
21. If you buy her flowers, you're after something.
22. If you don't, you're not thoughtful.
23. If you're proud of your achievements, you're up on yourself.
24. If you don't, you're not ambitious.
25. If she has a headache, she's tired.
26. If you have a headache, you don't love her anymore.
27. If you want it too often, you're oversexed.
28. If you don't, there must be someone else. (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
"I have a dream my four little children
will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but
by the content of their character . . ." Martin Luther King Jr.
Editors' Note: This story was penned in 1969.
A week after my son started first grade, he came
home with the news that Roger, the only African American in the class, was his playground
partner. I swallowed and said, "That's nice. How long before someone else gets him
for a partner?"
"Oh, I've got him for good," replied
Bill.
In another week, I had news that Bill had asked if
Roger could be his desk partner.
Unless you were born and reared in the Deep South,
as I was, you cannot know what this means. I went for an appointment with the teacher, She
met me with tired cynical eyes. "Well, I suppose you want a new desk partner for your
child, too," she said. "Can you wait a few minutes? I have another mother coming
in right now."
I looked up to see a woman my age. My heart raced
as I realized she must be Roger's mother. She had a quiet dignity and much poise, but
neither trait could cover the anxiety I heard in her questions: "How's Roger doing? I
hope he is keeping up with the other children? If he isn't, just let me know."
She hesitated as she made herself ask, "Is he
giving you any trouble of any kind? I mean, what with his having to change desks so
much?" I felt the terrible tension in her, for she knew the answer. But I was proud
of that first-grade teacher for her gentle reply: "No, Roger is not giving me any
trouble. I try to move all the children around the first few weeks until each has just the
right partner." I introduced myself and said that my son was to be Roger's new
partner and I hoped they would like each other. Even then I knew it was only a surface
wish, not a deep-felt one. But it helped her, I could see.
Twice Roger invited Bill to come home with him, but
I found excuses. Then came the heartache that I will always suffer.
On my birthday Bill came home from school with a
grimy piece of paper folded into a very small square. Unfolding it, I found three flowers
and "Happy Birthday" crayoned on the paper and a nickel.
"That's from Roger," said Bill.
"It's his milk money. When I said today was your birthday, he made me bring it to
you. He said you are his friend, because you're the only mother who didn't make him get
another desk partner."
Mavis Burton Ferguson from Chicken
Soup for the Unsinkable Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Heather McNamara
Copyright 1999 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
A couple of years ago, I witnessed courage that ran
chills up and down my spine.
At a high school assembly, I had spoken about
picking on people and how each of us has the ability to stand up for people instead of
putting them down. Afterwards, we had a time when anyone could come out of the bleachers
and speak into the microphone. Students could say thank-you to someone who had helped
them, and some people came up and did just that. A girl thanked some friends who had
helped her through family troubles. A boy spoke of some people who supported him during an
emotionally difficult time.
Then a senior girl stood up. She stepped over to
the microphone, pointed to the sophomore section and challenged her whole school.
"Let’s stop picking on that boy. Sure, he’s different from us, but we are
in this thing together. On the inside he’s no different from us and needs our
acceptance, love, compassion and approval. He needs a friend. Why do we continually
brutalize him and put him down? I’m challenging this entire school to lighten up on
him and give him a chance!"
All the time she shared, I had my back to the
section where the boy sat, and I had no idea who he was. But obviously, the school knew. I
felt almost afraid to look at his section, thinking the boy must be red in the face,
wanting to crawl under his seat and hide from the world. But as I glanced back, I saw a
boy smiling from ear to ear. His whole body bounced up and down, and he raised one fist in
the air. His body language said, "Thank you, thank you. Keep telling them. You saved
my life today!"
- By Bill Saunders from Chicken Soup for the
Teenage Soul Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Kimberly
Kirberger (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Several years ago I found myself a long way from
home in a small prison cell. As a prisoner of war, I was tortured, humiliated, starved and
left to languish in squalor for six years.
It's important that you get a vivid mental picture
of this scene. Try your best to smell the stench in the bucket I called my toilet and
taste the salt in the corners of my mouth from my sweat, my tears and my blood. Feel the
baking tropical heat in a tin-roofed prison cell - not that you'll ever be a POW. If I am
effective in these few moments we spend together, you'll see that the same kind of
challenges you face as a teenager, a student, a leader, or a parent, are the same basic
challenges I faced in a prison cell: feelings of fear, loneliness, failure and a breakdown
of communication. More importantly, your response to those challenges will be the same
response I had to have in the prison camp just to survive.
What qualities do you have within you that would
allow you to survive in a prison camp? Please pause here, think about this question, and
write in the margin of this page at least five different qualities necessary for survival.
(If you've written faith, commitment or dedication, you've already broken the code.)
As I worked my way through the first several months
and then years of imprisonment, I found I already had a foundation of survival tools
learned in life from my parents, preachers, youth leaders, and teachers. And the
life-saving techniques I used in that prison camp had more to do with my value system,
integrity and religious faith than anything I had learned from a textbook.
Sound like your life? The adversities you face in
your life can be just as debilitating to you as six years in a Communist prison camp could
have been to me. Now here's the test: The next time you have a huge problem facing you,
turn back to this page and read not my writing but your writing in the margin. You'll find
that the same factors you've written here, which would serve you well in a prison camp,
will serve you even better in the challenge of everyday life.
- By Charlie Plumb from A Cup of Chicken Soup for
the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
My mother isn't speaking to my father. She hasn't
spoken to him in five years, and for that, my father is truly grateful.
I was crying the last time she did speak to him. I
saw the exchange through I could not hear the words. His whisperings, her whisperings.
The two of them silhouetted against the window
light at the end of the long hall. My father leaning over my mother's gurney pressed
forehead to forehead. The word "Surgery" on the doors behind them from a caption
for the picture they made. Hands clasped together as if believing they held each other's
heart. As longingly as the first time they had reached for each other, as desperately as
two lovers being forces apart. Being forced to part on this day of life and death. They
had made the decision together, to do or to die. To do and die. These two had lived for
and in each other's dreams for the past forty years. My mother with a disease that was
cutting the blood flow to her brain. It was deteriorating her life and it would take it in
three years. Her life could be prolonged if the surgery was done now. Twelve brave hearts
had gone before her but only three of them had walked away. I watched their process of
decision making, both prayerful in the face of death. My mother wanting to live, wanting
to try. The churning and turning until there was peace.
How brave we knew she was, we three sisters
gathered around her hospital bed feeling time pushing us toward her fate the next day. We
were quick to smile; slow to leave; hoping our "Good Nights" were not our
good-byes.
Our father was left to keep his prayerful, loving
vigil. It was painful to leave him that night, too painful to think of him alone. But he
reminded us that he would not be alone, at least for this night, he had his love And
morning came. We gathered and prayed. We kissed our mother, hugged our father and then
followed her gurney until we were told that only one of us could go further.
My father continued to walk alongside her as he
always had. Two people who had stood together against all odds. My mother orphaned at a
young age and moved from place to place. My father the youngest of nine in a family
hurting with poverty.
They who had found their home in each other. We
children were loved in their home. Given by these two what they had not been given in
their own childhood's: safety, nurturing, moral guidance. We knew that we were created
from their love but that their love was an entity separate from us, a circle complete with
itself.
I see the kiss, the parting. My mother wheeled
through the door, alone. My father, his back to me, placing his hand on that door, praying
love and strength and hope to the women on the other side. He turned and walked slowly
toward me. The sunrise lit his face and I glimpsed the depth of this man's love.
This love of great self-sacrificing. A love so
great that he is willing to bear the pain of being the one to walk alone.
And though surrounded by our love, my father walked
alone while we waited out her coma, the months of doubt and rehabilitation.
In the end, my mother had lost her speech but she
had won her fight to live.
She has not spoken to my father for five years, and
for that, he is truly grateful.
Cynthia Hammond from Chicken Soup
for the Unsinkable Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Heather McNamara
Copyright 1999 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Eleven-year-old Angela was stricken with a
debilitating disease involving her nervous system. She was unable to talk, and the doctors
did not hold out much hope of her ever recovering. The little girl was undaunted. There,
lying in her hospital bed, she would vow to anyone who'd listen that she was definitely
going to be walking again someday.
She was transferred to a specialized rehabilitation
hospital in the San Francisco Bay area. The therapists were charmed by her undefeatable
spirit. They taught her about imaging - about seeing herself walking. If it would do
nothing else, it would at least give her hope and something positive to do in the long
waking hours in her bed. Angela would work as hard as possible in physical therapy, in
whirlpools and in exercise sessions. But she worked just as hard lying there faithfully
doing her imaging, visualizing herself moving, moving, moving!
One day, as she was straining with all her might to
imagine her legs moving again, it seemed as though a miracle happened: The bed moved! It
began to move around the room! She screamed out, "Look what I'm doing! Look! Look! I
moved, I moved!"
Of course, at this very moment everyone else in the
hospital was screaming, too, and running for cover. People were screaming, equipment was
falling, and glass was breaking. You see, it was an earthquake. But don't tell that to
Angela. She's convinced that she did it. And now, only a few years later, she's back in
school. On her own two legs. No crutches, no wheelchair. You see, anyone who can shake the
earth between San Francisco and Oakland can conquer a piddling little disease, can't they?
- By Hanoch McCarty, Ed.D. from Condensed Chicken Soup
for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen
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- Set your standards high
- You deserve the best.
- Try for what you want
- And never settle for less.
- Believe in yourself
- No matter what you choose.
- Keep a winning attitude
- And you can never lose.
- Think about your destination
- But don’t worry if you stray
- Because the most important thing
- Is what you’ve learned along the way.
- Take all that you’ve become
- To be all that you can be.
- Soar above the clouds
- And let your dreams set you free.
- by Jillian K. Hunt from Chicken Soup for the
Kid’s Soul Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Hansen and
Irene Dunlap (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
"Why do we have to learn all of this dumb
stuff?"
Of all the complaints and questions I have heard
from my students during my years in the classroom, this was the one most frequently
uttered. I would answer it by recounting the following legend.
One night a group of nomads were preparing to
retire for the evening when suddenly they were surrounded by a great light. They knew they
were in the presence of a celestial being. With great anticipation, they awaited a
heavenly message of great importance that they knew must be especially for them.
Finally, the voice spoke, "Gather as many
pebbles as you can. Put them in your saddle bags. Travel a day's journey and tomorrow
night will find you glad and it will find you sad."
After having departed, the nomads shared their
disappointment and anger with each other. They had expected the revelation of a great
universal truth that would enable them to create wealth, health and purpose for the world.
But instead they were given a menial task that made no sense to them at all. However, the
memory of the brilliance of their visitor caused each one to pick up a few pebbles and
deposit them in their saddle bags while voicing their displeasure.
They traveled a day's journey and that night while
making camp, they reached into their saddle bags and discovered every pebble they had
gathered had become a diamond. They were glad they had diamonds. They were sad they had
not gathered more pebbles.
It was an experience I had with a student, I shall
call Alan, early in my teaching career that illustrated the truth of that legend to me.
When Alan was in the eighth grade, he majored in
"trouble" with a minor in "suspensions." He had studied how to be a
bully and was getting his master's in "thievery."
Every day I had my students memorize a quotation
from a great thinker. As I called roll, I would begin a quotation. To be counted present,
the student would be expected to finish the thought.
"Alice Adams - 'There is no failure except
...’"
"’In no longer trying.' I'm present, Mr.
Schlatter."
So, by the end of the year, my young charges would
have memorized 150 great thoughts.
"Think you can, think you can't - either way
you're right!"
"If you can see the obstacles, you've taken
your eyes off the goal."
"A cynic is someone who knows the price of
everything and the value of nothing."
And, of course, Napoleon Hill's "If you can
conceive it, and believe it, you can achieve it."
No one complained about this daily routine more
than Alan - right up to the day he was expelled and I lost touch with him for five years.
Then one day, he called. He was in a special program at one of the neighboring colleges
and had just finished parole.
He told me that after being sent to juvenile hall
and finally being shipped off to the California Youth Authority for his antics, he had
become so disgusted with himself that he had taken a razor blade and cut his wrists.
He said, "You know what, Mr. Schlatter, as I
lay there with my life running out of my body, I suddenly remembered that dumb quote you
made me write 20 times one day. ‘There is no failure except in no longer trying.'
Then it suddenly made sense to me. As long as I was alive, I wasn't a failure, but if I
allowed myself to die, I would most certainly die a failure. So with my remaining
strength, I called for help and started a new life."
At the time he had heard the quotation, it was a
pebble. When he needed guidance in a moment of crisis, it had become a diamond. And so it
is to you I say, gather all the pebbles you can, and you can count on a future filled with
diamonds.
By John Wayne Schlatter from A 2nd
Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor
Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
I dashed out an exit at O’Hare International
Airport in Chicago and ran towards a waiting cab. I was greeted by a cab driver with a
three-day-old beard, an old baseball cap and arms the size of tree trunks.
As he tossed my bags into the trunk, he spotted my
luggage tags and said, "What kind of doctor are you?"
"A veterinarian," I said. Instantly, his
grizzled face broke into a smile. This happens to veterinarians all the time, as people
love to talk to about their pets.
The doors slammed, he put the car into gear and hit
me with this opening salvo, "My wife claims I love my toy poodle Missy more than I
love her. Just once, she wants me to be as excited to see her as I am Missy. But doc, it
ain’t gonna happen. Ya see, when I get home from a long day in the cab, dead tired, I
open the door and there are the two of them looking at me, Ma and Missy. Ma has a scowl on
her face and is ready to tear into me. Missy, on the other hand, is shaking all over, she’s
that happy —her face is grinning so wide, she could eat a banana sideways. Now who do
you think I’m going to run to?"
I nodded my head in agreement because I understood
only too well what his point was. He loved his wife, but he simply wanted permission to
savor his 15 minutes of fame.
Everybody gets 15 minutes of fame once in their
lifetime. Obviously, he didn’t have pets. We pet owners get our 15 minutes every time
we come home — or even return from the next room.
A few days after I saw the cab driver in Chicago, I
returned home. I was tired from my travels and looking forward to seeing my family.
Pulling into the driveway, I peered through the
windshield, straining to catch my first glimpse of my loved ones. My two children, Mikkel
and Lex, are very close to good ol' dad but I didn't see their faces pressed against the
window looking for me. Nor did my beloved wife, Teresa, come running in super slow motion
across the yard, arms open wide ready to embrace me.
But I didn’t despair. I knew I was still
wanted, a Hollywood heartthrob, hometown hero to my two dogs, Scooter, a wirehaired Fox
Terrier and, Sirloin, a black Labrador retriever!
As soon as I exited the pickup, Sirloin and Scooter
charged to meet me. Their love-filled eyes were dancing with excitement, and their tail
turbo chargers whipped them into a delighted frenzy of fur.
Was this affection-connection routine, ho-hum for
me? Was I cool, calm and collected?
Heck no. I turned into a blithering idiot as I got
out of my truck and rushed to meet the hairy-princess, Scooter, and Sirloin, the fur-king.
There I stood, all the false layers stripped away,
masks removed and performances cancelled. It was my true self. Extra pounds, bad hair day,
angry people, travel strains, no matter. Scooter and Sirloin came to the emotional rescue
and allowed me to drink in the sheer love and joy of the moment. I was drunk with
contentment.
I was glad this took place in the privacy of my own
home. What happened next might have spoiled my polished professional image. I immediately
smiled, and raised my voice an octave or two, exclaiming, "Sirloin, yuz is daaaaddies
boy, aren’t ya?" And, "Scooter, have you been a good girl today? Yeah you
have, you’ve been a goooood girl!!"
They responded by turning inside out with delight,
pressing themselves against my legs and talking to me. I felt as if I could tap directly
into their wellspring of positive, healing energy. Gee, it was great to be home!
I bounded up the steps to find the rest of the
family, heart open, stress gone and spirits restored by my fifteen minutes of fame.
- By Marty Becker, DVM Chicken Soup for the Dog
& Cat Lover’s Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Marty Becker, D.V.M.
and Carol Kline Copyright 1999 Canfield and Hansen. All rights reserved.
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