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Good Morning Nanty Glo!
Wednesday, May 2 2001

Hurry up and wait

Monday I got a day off work with pay. Tuesday I got one without pay. My "new" job won't be ready now until...oh, Thursday...Friday? They'll let me know. When I first offered to return to that job, they wanted me to quit the job I was still at through the end of April at least a week early. Then there was legal paperwork hanging. Then again. And again. Finally, the contract has been signed by both parties, I'm told, but now the "purchase order" for my contracting fees hasn't yet passed through all the channels. So it's a waiting game.

Makes me wonder if retirement will be all I'm hoping for. A weekday at home seems boring even with a pile of work for the home page and my music hobby over my head. Even with a trip to Starbuck's to get the day launched the right way over a venti drip and a chapter of Luke Timothy Johnson's The Real Jesus.

For five years of my seven as executive editor of San Jose's Premiere Community Newspaper Group (my working fictitious name to avoid giving them any more credit than they deserve) I worked at home. Loved it, and hated to give it up when I finally found work in the high tech industry again. Community newspaper editor is a job that lets you set your own hours and your work priorities. We need a film reviewer who can go to 10 a.m. screenings? I can do that. A restaurant reviewer to overeat at some of the town's best (and worst) establishments? Right down my alley. It wasn't all fun, but the free passes for the County Fair were a nice perk, especially the year one of the several groups calling themselves "The Platters" came around. Our County Fair seldom headlines anyone who interests me. The Platters, whether they're the "real" Platters or not, sang all their standards and rolled back 40 or 50 years with ease.

Except "Enchanted." I still haven't found a copy of "Enchanted." A friend even questions whether there was such a hit from the Platters, but I have proof. It ran in the Teen Ten list in the Journal for many weeks in 1959; says so right there in my scrapbook. And for good measure, a commercial currently running on cable stations (I watch a lot of the Pax and Odyssey channels) for a Platter collection even has a snippet of it.

Webmaster Jon Kennedy

Husband's checkup

After her husband's checkup, a woman was called into the doctor's office. The doctor told her, "Your husband has a serious disease. There are several things you'll have to do for him, or he will surely die. Each morning, fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant to him. Make him a nutritious lunch for work, and a especially nice meal for his dinner at night. Don't give him chores, or that will increase his stress. Don't discuss your problems with him either. Try to relax him in the evenings by wearing lingerie and giving him backrubs. Let him watch his favorite sports on TV. And most importantly, make love to him several times a week and satisfy his every whim. If you do these things for the next 10 months to a year, I think he'll pull through."

On the way home, the husband asked his wife what the doctor had told her.

"You're going to die." she replied.

Sent by Frank Charney

Yellow roses

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories. Rudy often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special.

I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands. Rudy knew I loved yellow roses.

With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since Rudy had passed on. Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two. Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how Rudy had loved his steak.

Suddenly a woman came beside me. She was blonde, slim, and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back. She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks. She saw me watching her and she smiled. "My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don't know."

I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. "My husband passed away eight days ago," I told her. Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice. "Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together."

She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the package in her basket and wheeled away. I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy. A quart, I finally decided, and moved on to the ice cream section near the front of the store. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front.

I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards me. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blond hair as she kept walking toward me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes.

"These are for you," she said, and placed three beautiful long-stemmed yellow roses in my arms. "When you go through the line, they will know these are paid for." She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again. I wanted to tell her what she'd done, what the roses meant, but still unable to speak, I watched as she walked away as tears clouded my vision. I looked down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found it almost unreal. How did she know?

Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn't alone. "Oh, Rudy, you haven't forgotten me, have you?" I whispered, with tears in my eyes. He was still with me, and she was his angel.

Everyday, be thankful for what you have and who you are.

Sent by Bob Kennedy
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