There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.
Years ago I was told that in every adverse situation there is a positive opportunity. Last winter I suffered from congestive heart failure that put me in a comma and on life support for three days. Then this summer they found a different problem that required open heart surgery. All this triggered an opportunity to reassess my activities in order to put more balance in my life which will allow me to run less and enjoy more.
So I took my own advice, I inventoried my needs and wants, my pleasures and disappointments and I reviewed the things I had been doing to see if they made any difference. I took the information and started to work on my “rest-of-life” plan but before I got too far I stumbled across a plan worked out by someone else. I decided I would follow his lead with maybe a few modifications. Here is his plan:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year-old.
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 a sidewalk 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 run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer’s day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple; When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you, because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. 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 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 loss of loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.
So… here’s my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.
And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first, cause…………..”Tag! You’re it.”
If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.
What to Say to Telemarketers
- The police photographer is still here, and the county medical examiner hasn’t released the body to the coroner yet. Can you call back a little later?
- You called at the right time, buster. I’ll order carloads of whatever you got just to restore my credit rating. Those turkeys down at the bank go bananas over one little bounced check or two.
- Well, you’ll have to send the stuff to my new address. As of next Wednesday, it’ll be care of the warden, maximum security wing, Attica Correction Facility, Attica, N.Y.
- What’s that you say? Speak up, please, will you? The battery has run down on my hearing aid. Louder, please, louder. Is that the best you can do? I’m afraid we’re just not communicating.
- I’m gonna have to put you on hold. The baby is due any minute now. Quick someone, get some hot water. Lots of it. Sorry, gotta hurry now, don’t go away.
- Oh, it’s you again. I was hoping you’d call back. The better business people said I need more positive identification to file my complaint. Now first let me have your name and telephone number. Hello? Hello?
- You better talk to my wife when she gets back from Reno. This place will be all hers then.
- Excuse me, this nice police officer, here, said that I should inform you that my phone is being tapped. Now, what kind of drugs did you say you were selling?
I don’t repeat gossip, so listen carefully.
It was the end of the day when I parked my police van in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy staring in at me. “Is that a dog you got back there?” he asked.
“It sure is,” I replied. Puzzled, the boy looked at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he said, “What’d he do?”
I know what men want. Men want to be really, really close to someone who will leave them alone.
A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned, “Daddy, you shouldn’t wear that suit.”
“And why not, darling?”
“You know that it always gives you a headache next morning.”
“If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?”
Quarterback Sneak – Church members quietly leaving during the invitation.
Draw Play – What many children do with the bulletin during worship.
Halftime – The period between Sunday School and worship when many choose to leave
Benchwarmer – Those who do not sing, pray, work, or apparently do anything but sit.
Backfield-in-Motion – Making a trip to the back (restroom or water fountain) during the service.
Staying in the Pocket – What happens to a lot of money that should be given to the Lord’s work.
Two-minute Warning – The point at which you realize the sermon is almost over and begin to gather up your children and belongings.
Instant Replay – The preacher loses his notes and falls back on last week’s illustrations.
Sudden Death – What happens to the attention span of the congregation if the preacher goes “overtime”.
Trap – You’re called on to pray and are asleep.
End Run – Getting out of church quick, without speaking to any guest or fellow member.
Flex Defense – The ability to allow absolutely nothing said during the sermon to affect your life.
Halfback Option – The decision of 50% of the congregation not to return for the evening service.
Blitz – The rush for the restaurants following the closing prayer.
A little girl had just finished her first week of school. “I’m wasting my time,” she said to her mother. “I can’t read, I can’t write – and they won’t let me talk!”
Six Jewish gentlemen were playing poker at the Condo Clubhouse when Meyerwitz loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallen comrade, the other five complete the evening of playing standing up. Finkelstein looks around and asks, “Who’s going to tell the wife?”
They draw straws. Goldberg, who is always a loser, draws the short one. They tell him to be discreet, be gentle, don’t make a bad situation any worse. “Gentlemen. ‘Discreet!’ I’m the most discreet man you will ever meet! ‘Discreet’ is my middle name… Leave it to me.”
Goldberg walks over to the Meyerwitz apartment, knocks on the door. The wife answers, asks what he wants.Goldberg declares, “Your husband just lost $500 and is afraid to come home!”
She hollers, “Tell him he should drop dead!”
Goldberg says, “I’ll tell him!”
He carried his childhood like a hurt warm bird held to his middle-aged breast.
Stay well, do good work, and have fun.
Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.
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