Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
I did not get home until late last evening and have a full day ahead so let me share with you what I saw on this day twelve years ago.
Ray’s Daily first published on June 5, 2003
I wish people would quit reminding me of how fast time flies. I was just reminded that these songs, It’s My Party – Leslie Gore , If You Wanna Be Happy – Jimmy Soul, Da Doo Ron Ron – The Crystals, and Still – Bill Anderson, topped the charts, are you ready for this? Forty years ago. Can’t be, got to be wrong, didn’t I just see them on the jukebox; no that has got to be wrong I don’t think I have seen a jukebox in the last 25 years, oh well, time marches on.
Today is the birthday of Federico García Lorca, Spanish playwright and poet. He was born in 1898 and was assassinated on August 19, 1936, by Franco’s Nationalists during the Spanish Civil War. The only reason I mention it is that I saw a production of “Blood Wedding” off Broadway in 1953. I was hooked. Since then I have collected some of his poems and plays on record and in print. The power of his work holds up even today. I was one of the lucky ones who discovered his work 50 years ago, I am glad I did, I only wish he could have lived to old age.
But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day.
A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin because he is not sure if sex is work or play. So he goes to a priest and asks for his opinion on this question. After consulting the Bible, the priest says, “My son, after an exhaustive search, I am positive that sex is work and is therefore not permitted on Sundays.” The man thinks: “What does a priest know about sex?”
So he goes to a Lutheran minister, who after all is a married man and experienced in this matter. He queries the minister and receives the same reply: “Sex is work and therefore not for the Sabbath!”
Not pleased with the reply, he seeks out a Rabbi, a man of thousands of years tradition and knowledge.
The Rabbi ponders the question, then states, “My son, sex is definitely play.” The man replies, “Rabbi, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work?” The Rabbi softly speaks, “My son, if sex were work, my wife would have the maid do it.”
“A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.”
Deciding to take up jogging, the man was astounded by the wide selection of jogging shoes available at the local sports shoe store. While trying on a basic pair of jogging shoe, he noticed a minor feature and asked the clerk about it. “What’s this little pocket thing here on the side for?”
“Oh, that’s to carry spare change so you can call your wife to come pick you up when you’ve jogged too far.”
“After twelve years of therapy my psychiatrist said something that brought tears to my eyes. He said, ‘No hablo ingles.'”
The hardest years in life are those between ten and seventy. -Helen Hayes (at 73)
Whoever thought up the word “Mammogram”? Every time I hear it, I think I’m supposed to put my breast in an envelope and send it to someone. -Jan King
Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart. – Caryn Leschen
I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once. -Jennifer Unlimited
I never married because there was no need. I have three pets at home which answer the same purpose as a husband. I have a dog that growls every morning, a parrot that swears all afternoon, and a cat that comes home late every night. -Marie Corelli-
“Whoever said money can’t buy happiness simply didn’t know where to go shopping.”
I love my job, I love the pay,
I love it more and more each day.
I love my boss and he’s the best.
I love HIS boss and all the rest.
I love my office and its location.
I hate to have to take vacation.
I love my desk, so drab and gray,
And love those paper piles each day.
I love my chair in my padded cell;
There’s nothing else I love so well.
I love to work among my peers.
I love their leers and jeers and sneers.
I love my computer and all its ware;
I hug it often to show I care.
I love each program and every file;
I even try using it once in a while.
I’m happy to be here, I am, I am…
I’m the happiest slave to my Uncle Sam.
I love this work; I love these chores;
I love the meetings with deadly bores.
I love my job and I’ll say it again,
I even love these friendly men:
These men who’ve come to visit today,
In lovely white coats to take me away!
Others can stop you temporarily, but only you can do it permanently.
A nursing colleague was preparing an intravenous line for a 15-year-old male patient. The bedside phone rang, and the boy’s mother reached over to pick it up. After talking for a few minutes, the mother held the phone aside and said, “Your father wants to know if you have any cute nurses.”
The boy gazed at the nurse, who had the needle poised above his arm, ready for insertion. “Tell him,” he replied, “they’re absolutely gorgeous.”
I live in my own little world. But it’s OK. They know me here.
Two little girls are looking at a book of fairy tales. “Who’s that on the cover?” asks the younger of the two.
“That’s Cinderella.” replied her friend. “It’s a nice story with a happy ending.”
“But why is she crying?” the first asked. “She doesn’t look so happy to me.”
“Because her wicked step-Mother won’t let her go to the mall.” answered the second.
Everything can be taken from a man but the last of human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
Viktor E. Frankl Auschwitz survivor.
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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