I am a 61 year old, father of two boys and have been happily married for 33 years. I have been a Physical Education teacher and coach for 38 years and have loved EVERY minute of it. I enjoy making people laugh and feel good about themselves. It’s fun collecting inspiring and heartwarming stories.from people. So, if you have a good story…let me know! I hope you enjoy my page!! :)
Remember:
Everyone is fighting a battle that you know nothing about.
Be kind.
Always.
There aren’t too many videos that I have seen that has touched my heart as much as this one. It is truly one of the saddest video that you may ever watch but also one of the most encouraging.
Lizzie Velasquez was born with a rare disease that makes it impossible for her to gain weight. A few years ago so discovered that internet bullies cruelly voted her the “ugliest on the Internet.”
Rising above her tormentors she has gone on to succeed greatly in life. Watch her give an amazing and Godly speech that will literally change your life! She will inspire you to trust God, accept yourself and enjoy the life that was given to you. This video is a MUST see
An Old Man Photo Credit: chilombianovia morguefile.com
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.
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CRANKY OLD MAN
What do you see nurses…What do you see?
What are you thinking…when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man…not very wise,
Uncertain of habit…with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice…’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice…the things that you do.
And forever is losing…A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not…lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding…The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse…you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am…As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding…as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten…with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters…who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen…with wings on his feet,
Dreaming that soon now…a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty…my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows…that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now…I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide…And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty…My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other…With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons…have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me…to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more…Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children…My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me…My wife is now dead.
I look at the future…I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing…young of their own.
And I think of the years…And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man…and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age…look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles…grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone…where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass…A young man still dwells,
And now and again…my battered heart swells
I remember the joys…I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living…life over again.
I think of the years, all too few…gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact…that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people…open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer…see…ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!
My blog page has now reached 400?!? It really is a surreal and humbling feeling for me. I NEVER thought that my page have 100 followers. Thank you everyone! I hope that I can continue to have the opportunity to find things to warm your hearts and inspire you…if even just to make your day a little brighter each day!
It was 44 years ago today, July 20, 1969, that one of the biggest accomplishments of mankind happened…it was the day that man first walked on the moon. The astronauts, Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, Jr. became instant worldwide heroes It had only been a short 22 years earlier that the Soviet Union had become the first nation to ever launch an artificial satellite out of the earth’s atmosphere and enter space.
Upon landing at the moon base, “Tranquility Base”, Neil Armstrong announced from the space module “Eagle”, “the Eagle has landed.” Hours later, Neil Armstrong, stepped off of the Eagle’s ladder, put his foot upon the moon’s surface and declared: “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind”.
Well, since then, our world has grown, discovered and developed things faster than anyone could imagine.
It is hard to believe how far we have come as a world in forty years. Consider what been invented and developed since then…here are a few examples….
The development of the home computer
Flat screen and plasma TV’s
Cell Phones
The internet (for public use)
Digital Cameras
The Space Shuttle
The Space Station
NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope in 1999
Face Book, Twitter, Instagram, and eBay
GPS (Global Tracking Systems)
Video Game Consoles (Play Station, Xbox, Nintendo)
Digital music and cameras
MRI’s
ATM’s
Hybrid Cars
Doppler Radar
Camcorders
Smart Phones
Google (and other Search Engines)
Electronic Word Processing
Caller ID
Blog Pages
And much, much more!
Today’s world is a fascinating place. Technology and life styles are developing at incredible rates. It is mind-boggling to think about what things may be around in another 40 years from now. Some things, such as cell phones which screens will be able to be rolled up like scrolls (while still being able to read the screen), totally transparent cell phones, or planes such as the FAXX Concept fighter which has no vertical tail fins and will have “skin” that will be able to repair itself….and maybe…someday soon…trips to the moon and Mars!
It is an exciting time in the world’s history to live. We need to enjoy every minute that we experience here on this earth and appreciate all the awesome technology and information that we have at our fingertips. Some day in 40, 50 or 100 years from now, people will look back at our time and say… wow…we have come a long way!
This video demonstrates a fantastic example of sportsmanship. In a world that seemingly is getting more and more greedy and self-centered, it is so comforting to know that there are still heartwarming stories of sportsmanship.
I was reading through a few stories on truthbook.com and found a story that has been one of my favorites for quite some time. I decided to pass this story along. It is a beautiful little story that shows us the value of life and the depth of a mother’s love for her children.
It was a typical hectic wet spring Saturday and I was driving to a local department store in search of a baby shower gift for my daughter, she was having my first Grandchild. I told my husband I would only be gone a short while cause I kind of knew what I wanted to buy. As most rainy spring Saturday’s would have it, the traffic was heavy and everyone seemed to be in a mad hurry.
As I was leaving BABIES ARE US, and scampered across the parking lot to my car, I noticed a large brown duck circling a sewer grid. As I approached the duck she came waddling up to me frantically quacking. As soon as she knew she had my attention, she turned and waddled back to the sewer grid. As I looked down into the sewer I counted eleven tiny yellow ducklings. I thought for a moment saying out loud that I was very late and very wet and there was nothing I could do. Besides, the sewer grid was much to heavy for me to move. Even out loud, no excuse sounded good enough, I knew I couldn’t leave. This was a mother duck and her ducklings were in trouble and she came to me for help. As I stood there helpless, other people approached to see why I was standing in a parking lot talking to a duck. She circled me relentlessly quacking. It was quite the spectacle.
Just then a young man and his pregnant wife approached me and I began explaining the situation. Without coaxing, the young man took action. He carefully lifted off the grate and went in after the ducklings. One by one he lifted them to me. An employee from a nearby store came out with a box and we began filling the box with quackers. Seven ducklings filled the box and the young man assumed his rescue feat was completed. As he returned the sewer grid and turned to me he saw the sadness in my face, I knew in my heart I had counted eleven ducks, four were still lost…
By now a small crowd had gathered to watch the rescue. With seven ducklings in the box I set the box on the ground and moved away. The mother duck cautiously entered the box of quackers and quieted them down. A couple from the crowd volunteered to take the box to a nearby pond. When they tried to pick up the box the Mother duck flew from the box in noisy fright. Again, the employee from the near by store ran through the rain with a top for the box. As the Mother duck settled down the second time in the box of quackers I quickly placed the cover on top. Although, the Mother duck protested, the couple put the box in their car and set off for the pond. Everyone seemed happy, applauding everyone’s efforts and then left. But I couldn’t! There were four more baby ducks down there.
I stood quietly listening and worrying… they were baby ducks! A half hour had passed as I stood the rainy vigil with no sounds from the sewer, except the gushing water. Two new people came by to ask me why I was standing near the sewer staring down. I explained what happened and that four ducklings were still missing. The woman and her daughter then lifted the grate and suddenly we heard the low quacks of the ducklings calling for their Mother over the gushing water.
The man with his pregnant wife came to the rescue again, this time armed with a flash light. He smiled at me and said, “Four more huh!” He disappeared again into the sewer drain and was gone for several minutes. The rain had picked up and the sewer was again being filled with water. The pregnant young woman began to openly worry about her husband being in the sewer and how wet he would be. Suddenly, his head popped out of the sewer drain followed by a huge smile. In his jacket were 4 ducklings quacking their heads off.
We covered the sewer drain and got into our cars. He waited until we lined up to follow him in his truck to the nearby pond where the mother duck and the other ducklings had been released. With lights on high-beam and windshield wipers flapping, as though in a parade, we approached the pond. Standing near the water, the quacking of the four stragglers brought the mother duck and her brood to the shore line to be re-united. My heart was singing and everyone was smiling like we had all just won the million dollar lottery.
I didn’t ask any of the rescuer’s names or what made them want to get involved with saving eleven tiny ducklings on a very wet busy Saturday in spring, I only know I felt as though the mother duck and God were counting on us.
When I finally arrived home dripping wet my husband looked at me with some annoyance saying “where were you for so long.” I just smiled and said, “Someone quite small reminded me just how precious life is and the love that bonds mothers and their offspring, so just stop your quacking! I’m going to be a GRANDMOTHER!”
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Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. ~Mother Tere
I recently turned the big 5-0 a couple of months ago and what was even more humiliating, was receiving an AARP membership letter in the mail the very next day…Ahhh! Anyway, I have always been a nostalgic-type guy and I have become even more so during the past months.
I usually find myself a few times each day thinking to myself, “just once, I would love to go back in time and do…..” basically, reminding myself of the days or years in my past. It always brings a type of warmth to my heart and a smile to my face thinking of the friends, people, places and activities that I used to enjoy.
I know that it isn’t healthy to “overindulge” or “dwell on the past” too much on the things of the past, but sometimes, when life gets hard, crazy, or hectic, it’s always nice to sit back and think of the special things that happened…when life was simple and pure.
So, if I could, I would love to go back and do some of these things…just one more time…
Stay outside until the street lights came on…which meant it was time to come home
Have bike races around the block with baseball cards flapping in my spokes which we thought made us sound like we were riding motorcycles
Hear the dinner bell ring…which called us all home for dinner
Listen to grandma calling all of our cats letting them know that their food was ready
Go Snapper fishing with my dad off the boat docks until sundown
Help my mom decorate her classroom and get it ready for her students
Play baseball and kickball with the kids in our neighborhood for hours each day
Build a tree fort in the trees in our backyard
Play and “Hide and Seek” in the woods and discover things around creeks and ponds
Save the world from evil and chaos as super heroes Batman (and my brother) Robin
Sit on my grandfather’s lap and listen to one more of his stories
Go sleigh riding down “Mueller’s Hill”, fly off the snow ramps and navigate around the obstacles that we made
Give my mom and dad one more hug
Visit neighbors with my brother and then enjoy the treats that they would give us
Have crabapple fights with the neighbors
Build sandcastles then making a big sand wall trying to prevent the incoming tide from destroying my fortress
Smell the aromas of the sausage and pepper sandwiches, homemade French fries, fresh cotton candy and pizza that that were always present at the boardwalk
Hear the sounds of the binging and ringing of bells, whistles and other noises emanating from the boardwalk arcades
Feel the sudden pull of the line on my pole as a fish got snagged on the hook and the excitement of the “fight”
Experience my heart “skipping a beat” as I asked a girl on the first date of my life
Watch my dad take portraits of people in his photography studio
Take a family vacation with my wife and two boys
Experience the excitement and magic of dating my wife then marrying her
Go to Yankee Stadium with friends
Stand on the rock jetty by the beach, watching fishing, luxury, and other boats come in
Go to college again
Play miniature golf during a beautiful summer night
Go to a family reunion
I could go on and list more things for hours…but the one thing that I wish that I could do….just one more time…if only for a moment…would be to TELL my mom, dad and grandma…how much I loved them…and thank them for all the love that they showed me.
Life is short. Take the time each and every day to enjoy the big AND small things. Appreciate and be thankful for all the people that are in your life and let them know how much they mean to you…before they are all gone.
Photo Credit: Teodoro S. Gruhl via publidomainpictures.com
I was recently reading a story from my friend at brosia.com which reminded me of the importance of treating our elderly loved ones as they age. Sometimes, it certainly does sometimes get annoying or irritating when an older parent or relative is with us and they have “accidents” or other things that may occur. The following story serves as a great reminder of how we should be more patient and and loving of our aged loved ones.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.
The family ate together at the table. But, the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon and food rained onto the floor. When he grasped a glass, with his shaking hands milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.
So, they set a small table in the corner. There Grandfather ate alone, while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since, Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather’s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions, when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening, before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, “What are you making?”
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, “Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.” The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. That evening, the husband took Grandfather’s hand and gently led him back to the family table, and for the remainder of his days, he ate every meal with the family. And, for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
Children are remarkably perceptive. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child’s future. And Maybe, just maybe their own.
Remember deeds of kindness and goodness and be a “skilled builder.”
A child’s faith is tested, but she learns she can talk to God about anything—even baseball.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I would have given anything to take them back.
I looked at that youngster beside me in the car, pixie face eager beneath her baseball cap. Knowing just how much 10-year-old Erin missed her dad, wanting to do something special for her, I’d invited her to go with me that afternoon to watch the Giants play the Chicago Cubs at Candlestick Park.
I’d never seen a kid so excited. We’d been driving across the Bay Bridge when she suddenly piped up, “Maybe we’ll catch a foul ball!”
And like an idiot I’d said, “Well, honey, now that your dad’s in heaven, maybe he’ll mention that to God for you.”
Just a throw-away remark, but I saw that she took it seriously and I wanted to bite my tongue off. A child’s faith is tested enough when a parent dies without some dolt planting pipe dreams.
“You mean,” Erin asked in an awestruck voice, “you can talk to God even about baseball?”
I switched subjects fast, talked about some of the great times our two families had had together. We were like one family, really, next-door neighbors for 11 years, each couple with three kids the same ages, Craig and I close as brothers in spite of being so different.
It was our differences, in fact, that made the relationship so great. Craig could repair anything—electrical circuits, clogged plumbing. When my kids had a bike wheel come off, they wouldn’t waste time with me, they’d go straight to him.
As for me, sports were my thing, especially baseball. I’d gone to college on a baseball scholarship, been drafted by the California Angels to a minor-league contract right out of school. After four years I was aspiring to a spot in the major leagues when I damaged my rotator cuff. That ended my professional career, but not my love of the game.
We made a deal, Craig and I: Things that needed fixing, he’d do, coaching the kids was my job.
All six of them were great little athletes, but Erin was something else. Lots of speed, a pitcher’s concentration and a throwing arm every guy in her Little League division envied (she played on a boys’ team). It made a special bond between the two of us, all the more important in the six months since her dad’s death from Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
I’d never forget his final words to me in the hospital room a few hours before the end. “Keep a watch over my kids, Steve.” As if he had to ask!
As we pulled into the parking lot at Candlestick, Erin chattered away, my thoughtless remark hopefully forgotten. Soon we were settled into our seats halfway between home plate and third base, Cracker Jack boxes in hand. The pitcher warmed up, and we prepared for our private contest.
When I first started taking kids to ball games I’d invented a way to pass the slow moments between pitches. Each of us would call out a guess as to what would happen. “High pop-up to right field!” Or, “Line drive to center!”
Ninety-nine percent of the guesses were wrong, of course, but when someone did predict correctly, he or she got a point toward an extra hot dog or a souvenir program. Erin was calling, “Swing and a miss on a curve ball!” unfazed by a score of zero.
It was a wonderful afternoon, a close game with some spectacular plays. Like the baseball fanatics we were, we’d both brought our mitts, though Erin—to my vast relief—hadn’t spoken again about a foul ball coming our way, the notion apparently forgotten as quickly as it came.
It was in the bottom of the ninth, game nearly over with two outs and the batter up, that she stood up suddenly and sang out, “High foul ball right to us!”
I laughed at the certainty with which she could still make these pronouncements. There was a crack as the batter connected with the ball, sending it high over the third-base line. A second later the laughter died in my throat as I watched the trajectory of that ball, saw it spin, curve to the left, and begin a slow downward arc right toward us.
All around us people were on their feet, arms raised, grabbing for it. I’m a tall guy, six-foot-five. I leaned forward and stretched my hand up. The ball slapped into the fingertips of my mitt.
Erin was jumping, laughing, crying, brushing away tears with her own mitt. I started crying too, the two of us shouting, hugging each other, staring at that miraculous ball.
Erin looked at the ball, that is. I was seeing something more wondrous still. I was watching a child’s first encounter with the God we can talk to even about baseball.
My Good Time Stories 