April 30, 2020
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
If you are like I am you have found as we isolate ourselves that we have time for some introspection. In my case as I have looked back over the years some of my favorite moments have been rediscovered. What is surprising me is that how many did not seem that momentous at the time. I wish it had not taken this long to place more value on the little things. But I am thankful that there resurfacing has so much meaning now.
Here is a story I always liked; I may have published it before but it is worth reading again if I did. So OK my memory is selective.
The Making of a Memory
One can’t predict when or where they will come from; those memories that stay with us a lifetime, and never fail to bring us warm fuzzy feelings. My husband had just finished loading his car; made one lap back through the house and then into the kitchen. ‘I guess filling my thermos is all I have left to do, and then I’m off.’
Down the drain went the hot water that had been warming his thermos. With a very nostalgic look on his face he softly said, ‘When I filled this with water earlier, I thought of your mum. In fact, anytime I fill my thermos I think her.’
‘Oh honey, that’s so sweet. I know she’s watching and listening right now with a big smile on her face,’ I responded as tears began to brim my eyelids.
‘You know, I never fill my thermos that I don’t think of her, and I always smile too.’ The tone in his voice was so tender as he spoke of my mother who is no longer with us.
Years ago we had been visiting my parents, and the morning we were leaving my mother watched as Jerry began to fill his thermos. Being the ‘coffee drinker’ in the family, he’s always placed himself in charge of thermos duties. Mum then casually offered up a tidbit of advice.
‘Jerry, if you would fill your thermos with hot water and let it sit a while, your coffee would stay hot longer on your drive.’
Well of course it would! It only makes all the sense in the world! Who wouldn’t know that?
He dumped the small amount of coffee already in the thermos, and ran the tap until it was at its hottest; then refilled with piping hot water. After pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, he sat down to enjoy a few more minutes with mum, and to discuss this unique new idea.
Words of wisdom from a loving mother-in-law made an impact that will never be forgotten. When spoken that morning, Jerry didn’t realize he would always hear those words ringing in his ears, or that they would bring a smile to his face time and time again. And Mother would never have dreamed her words would be a treasured, and everlasting memory in the heart of her son-in-law.
The ‘fondest, lasting memories’ don’t necessarily come from ‘major moments’ in life, the making of a memory simply happens.
Written by Kathleene S. Baker
It takes one thought, one second, one moment or positive memory to act as a catalyst for the light to gradually seep in again.
Basic Flying Rules: Try to stay in the middle of the air. Do not go near the edges of it. The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees, and interstellar space. It is much more difficult to fly there.
“I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.”
Mary Louise Gilman, the venerable editor of the National Shorthand Reporter has collected many of the more hilarious courtroom bloopers in two books – Humor in the Court (1977) and More Humor in the Court. From Mrs. Gilman’s two volumes, here are a couple of my favorite transcripts, all recorded by America’s keepers of the word:
- Did you ever stay all night with this man in New York?
- I refuse to answer that question.
- Did you ever stay all night with this man in Chicago?
- I refuse to answer that question.
- Did you ever stay all night with this man in Miami?
For every minute you are angry with someone, you lose 60 seconds of happiness that you can never get back.
A man called his neighbor to help him move a couch that had become stuck in the doorway. They got on either end of the couch and struggled until they were exhausted, but the couch wouldn’t budge.
“Forget it,” the man finally gasped. “We’ll never get this in.”
A frustrated voice came from the other side of the couch: “In?”
In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.
A deputy police officer responded to a report of a barroom disturbance. The “disturbance” turned out to be well over six feet tall and weighed almost 300 pounds. What’s more, he boasted that he could whip the deputy and Muhammad Ali too.
Said the policeman, “I’ll bet that you’re also an escape artist-probably better than Houdini.”
The giant nodded.
“If I had some chains,” the deputy continued, “you could show us how strong you really are. But all I’ve got is a set of handcuffs. Why don’t you see just how quickly you can break out of them?”
Once in the cuffs, the man puffed, pulled and jerked for four minutes. “I can’t get out of these,” the giant growled.
“Are you sure?” the deputy asked. The fellow tried again. “Nope,” he replied. “I can’t do it.”
“In that case,” said the deputy, “you’re under arrest.”
The nicest thing about the future is that it always starts tomorrow.
A widower who never paid any attention to his wife while she was alive now found himself missing her desperately. He went to a psychic to see if he could contact his late wife.
The psychic went into a trance. A strange breeze wafted through the darkened room, and suddenly, the man heard the unmistakable voice of his dearly departed wife.
“Honey!” he cried. “Is that you?”
“Yes, my husband.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes, my husband.”
“Happier than you were with me?”
“Yes, my husband…much happier ! ”
“Then Heaven must be an amazing place!”
“I’m not in Heaven, dear.”
Your memory is the glue that binds your life together; everything you are today is because of your amazing memory. You are a data collecting being, and your memory is where your life is lived.
Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.
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