The best memory is that which forgets nothing, but injuries.
Write kindness in marble and write injuries in the dust.
I had a full day yesterday and am off to she a Doctor first thing this morning so let’s see what I can dig up from the archives.
Ray’s Daily first published on December 2, 2004
As you know the news is not always good. Each day one or more of us has to carry a heavy burden. I hope that we all do what we can to share the load, or at least provide empathy to those who must deal with tragedy in their lives.
Yesterday I just got an e-mail from a friend who just lost her brother to cancer at too young an age. My friend shared her brother’s almost intolerable agony as his life slipped away over a long period of time. I also recently heard from an old friend’s daughter that her dad has inoperable lung cancer and is terminal, this on top of her mother dying of cancer not that many months ago. Not only that, she told me that her brother’s son is fighting a brain tumor. This family has been friends of ours for nearly 50 years, when we lived in the same city they were our brothers and sisters. They deserve better.
My heart goes out to those who are suffering and to those who suffer with them as they watch loved ones battle for their very lives. I never have adequate words to express just how much I wish that they did not have to go through these terrible life experiences. It is a time when our friends probably need us most. While it is not too much fun to put your arm around someone who is sharing the pain of a loved one, there is no better time to show them that we care. As we reach the end of another year I hope that these wonderful caregivers will find life a little better in the months ahead.
Each of us experience pain and joy as life goes on. At least we have been given the memories of the good years, years that those we have lost would most like to be remembered. It is up to us to remember the past while making the best of the future. I wish us all well.
Every man’s memory is his private literature.
A couple went to pay a visit to another couple, unannounced.
The wife answered the door. “Come in,” she said.
The other couple came in, sat down, then asked, “Where’s Jack?”
“Oh,” replied his wife, “he’s in the bathroom, grouting and spackling.”
“Oh, dear,” said the other lady, “I had that once and didn’t get over it for two weeks.”
Being right too soon is socially unacceptable.
Here is some more about where I live.
YOU KNOW YOU’RE FROM INDIANA WHEN:
You think the state Bird is Larry.
You can say “French Lick” without laughing out loud.
There’s actually a college near you named “Ball State.”
You know Batesville is the casket-making capital of the world and you’re proud of it.
You could never figure out spring forward-fall back, so screw Daylight Savings Time!
Down south to you means Kentucky.
You have no problem spelling or pronouncing Terre Haute.
Your school classes were canceled because of cold.
Your school classes were canceled because of heat.
You know what the phrase “knee-high by the Fourth of July” means.
You’ve heard of Euchre, you know how to play Euchre, and you are a master of Euchre.
Detassling was your first job. Bailing hay, your second. Or you could stack hay, swim in the pond to clean off and then have the strength to play a couple of games of hoops, all in the same barn lot on the same day.
You say things like catty-wampus and kitty corner and know what they mean.
You install security lights on your house and garage, then leave them both unlocked.
You drink pop. You catch frogs at the crick. If you want someone to hear you, you holler at ’em.
You know that baling wire was the predecessor to duct tape.
You know that strangers are the only ones who come to your front door.
You think nothing of driving on the roads and being stuck behind a farm implement in spring and fall. You just hope it’s not a hog truck or a manure spreader.
High school basketball games draw bigger crowds on the weekend than movie theaters, If you have a movie theater.
Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.
The local paper covers national and international headlines on one page but requires six for local sports.
You can repeat the scores of the last eight NBA games, but unless the MVP is a Hoosier, you are not sure who he is.
You can see at least two basketball hoops from your yard.
Indianapolis is the BIG CITY.
Getting stuck by a train is a legitimate excuse for being late to school or work.
Everyone knows who the town cops are, where they live, and whether they’re at home or on duty.
You’ve been to the Covered Bridge Festival. And you took back roads to get there. Why sit in traffic?
To you, tenderloin is not an expensive cut of beef, but a big, salty, breaded, & fried piece of pork served on a bun with pickle.
You end your sentences with prepositions, as in “Where’s it at?” or “Where’s he going to?”
Ever once in a while, take the scenic route.
An elderly couple were sitting together watching television. During one of the commercials, the husband asked his wife, “Whatever happened to our sexual relations?”
After a long, thoughtful silence, the wife replied, during the next commercial, “You know, I don’t even think we got a Christmas card from them this year.”
Mr. Allen, a high-powered executive trying to impress a client in his office, flipped on his intercom switch and barked to his secretary, “Miss Hunter, get my broker!”
The client was impressed until he heard the secretary’s clear voice saying, “Yes, sir, stock or pawn!”
A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial.
He was a good man but a bit stingy. He would bargain and haggle on a price, never paying the price asked. He especially hated paying his medical fees. One day, while eating fish, a bone became lodged in his throat and within minutes he could scarcely breathe. His wife frantically calls the family doctor, who arrived just as the patient’s face was turning blue. The physician quickly removed the bone with a pair of forceps.
After he was breathing normally again, although overwhelmed with gratitude to the doctor for saving his life, he began to worry about the medical fees.
Trying his best to keep his costs down & down play the whole episode, he turns to the good doctor and asks, “So, doc, how much do I owe you for that small two-minute job?”
The doctor, who knew his patient’s miserly habit all too well, replies,
“Just pay me half of what you would have when the bone was still stuck in your throat!”
The severity of the itch is proportional to the reach.
It was a terrible night, blowing cold and snow in a most frightful manner. The streets were deserted and the local baker was just about to close up shop when a little Jewish man slipped through the door. He carried an umbrella, blown inside out, and was bundled in two sweaters and a thick coat. But even so he still looked wet, freezing, and bedraggled.
As he unwound his scarf he said to the baker, “May I have two poppy seed bagels to go, please?”
The baker said in astonishment, “Two bagels? Nothing more?”
“That’s right,” answered the little man. “One for me and one for Sherry.”
“Sherry is your wife?” asked the baker.
“What did you think,” snapped the little man, “that my mother would send me out on a night like this?”
When the heart grieves over what is has lost, The spirit rejoices over what it has left.
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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