Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio
"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written.. My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:"
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. So stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry..
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now... Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
25. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ''In five years, will this matter?".
26. Always choose life.
27. Forgive everyone everything.
28. What other people think of you is none of your business..
29.. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.
30. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
31. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
32. Believe in miracles.
33. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
34. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
35.. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
36. Your children get only one childhood.
37. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
38. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere..
39. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd
grab ours back.
40. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
41. The best is yet to come.
42. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
43. Yield.
44. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
La Traviata
I have seen this, or a variation of this, in several venues. One or two overseas; not sure if I've seen this particular video before or not.
Magnificent!
On Saturday, April 24th, over 30 members of the Opera Company of Philadelphia Chorus and principal cast members from their upcoming production of La Traviata converged on the Reading Terminal Market Italian Festival in Philly.
Wearing street clothes and blending in with the crowd, the artists swung into action after the first orchestral strains of the famed "Brindisi" were piped through the market, giving a rousing, surprise performance for hundreds of delighted onlookers who were there to enjoy the Italian delicacies that the Market has to offer.
The four-minute piece won a thunderous ovation that included both laughter and tears from the audience. You can see it and hear it at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zmwRitYO3w
Magnificent!
On Saturday, April 24th, over 30 members of the Opera Company of Philadelphia Chorus and principal cast members from their upcoming production of La Traviata converged on the Reading Terminal Market Italian Festival in Philly.
Wearing street clothes and blending in with the crowd, the artists swung into action after the first orchestral strains of the famed "Brindisi" were piped through the market, giving a rousing, surprise performance for hundreds of delighted onlookers who were there to enjoy the Italian delicacies that the Market has to offer.
The four-minute piece won a thunderous ovation that included both laughter and tears from the audience. You can see it and hear it at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zmwRitYO3w
Good Police Work by Female Officer
http://shock.military.com/Shock/videos.do?displayContent=217458&ESRC=army.nl
Marriage
A man and his wife were sitting around the breakfast
table one lazy Sunday morning.
He said to her, "When I die I want you to immediately sell all my stuff.."
She asked, "now why would you want me to do something like that?"
"I figure that you would eventually remarry and I don't want some other asshole using my stuff..."
She looked at him and said, "what makes you think I'd marry another asshole?"
table one lazy Sunday morning.
He said to her, "When I die I want you to immediately sell all my stuff.."
She asked, "now why would you want me to do something like that?"
"I figure that you would eventually remarry and I don't want some other asshole using my stuff..."
She looked at him and said, "what makes you think I'd marry another asshole?"
We Gots a Puppy! We Gots a Puppy!
So there I was, doing what any right thinking, elderly American man would be doing . . . lying down and resting. At about 11am
Phone rings.
It's Tim Cunning, our beloved, kindly, and wild-eyed Irish president of our Kiwanis Club.
"I was having breakfast with the kids and when we left we saw a bunch of dogs running around, one of which was just a little puppy. It ran out into the street and then would come back, then back into the street."
One of the waitresses said . . ."yep, there goes another pup that's gonna get run over.'
"Then it hit me. That innocent little pup is gonna get killed, I gotta do something."
"So I went and picked the little thing up and looked around for its owner. No one knew who the pup belonged to. And I thought of you."
"What kinda pup?" sez me.
"Little thing. Small pup. Short haired, terrier, female."
"Well," sez me, "I don't know if the cats would accept her, or vice versa. I suppose we could keep her for a day or two and see how they adapted; bring her on by and we'll take a look at her. Are the kids with you?"
"Yes, both Morgan and Andrew are with me."
"Well, I might keep one or two of them as well. Come on by."
About three minutes later he was here, with the kids. And the puppy.
Quiet little mousy thing. I like my pups to have some spunk. To be playful, curious, adventurous. This one liked to sleep.
Morgan was holding her and petting her, while she slept. I could see that Morgan was already getting attached . . . which is what Tim was worried about. They already have four dogs.
At first Evelyn was reluctant to take the puppy. "If we take her she's YOUR dog! You'll have to feed her, take care of her, clean up after her. I'm just too busy. Too many other things to do."
"Well," I sez, "that settles it. Out in the street with the little tyke. Let a car or two run over her. Here . . Evelyn, why don't you hold the puppy just for a few minutes before we throw her to the wolves."
Ever the obedient woman, Evelyn held the puppy and I knew right then we were gonna have a new puppy in the house. I could see Evelyn melting right in front of me as that pup laid its head into the crook of her neck and just commenced to snooze, big as you please.
After a few minutes, Evelyn allowed as how maybe, just maybe, we would keep the pup for a day or two.
As to a name? I suggested "Trixie," as that had been the name of all the dogs I had ever known.
In unison, Tim and Evelyn said, "No! This pup's name will NOT be Trixie!"
They kicked around a few names and then Tim and the kids left for home . . . leaving Evelyn, and me . . . and Trixie.
Farfle, one of the cats, crept out slowly and the two looked at each other. Farfle even tried to make friends with Trixie, gently holding a paw out to touch . . . but Trixie withdrew . . . a little on the shy side. She wags her tail when she sees me. She sleeps a lot, as puppies do. She slept for about an hour with me . . . she's on Evelyn's chest right now, sound asleep, as is Evelyn (who supposedly was watching Dr. Phil).
The house is finally complete. A man. A woman. Some cats. And a puppy.
We gots a puppy! We gots a puppy! And her name is Trixie!
Phone rings.
It's Tim Cunning, our beloved, kindly, and wild-eyed Irish president of our Kiwanis Club.
"I was having breakfast with the kids and when we left we saw a bunch of dogs running around, one of which was just a little puppy. It ran out into the street and then would come back, then back into the street."
One of the waitresses said . . ."yep, there goes another pup that's gonna get run over.'
"Then it hit me. That innocent little pup is gonna get killed, I gotta do something."
"So I went and picked the little thing up and looked around for its owner. No one knew who the pup belonged to. And I thought of you."
"What kinda pup?" sez me.
"Little thing. Small pup. Short haired, terrier, female."
"Well," sez me, "I don't know if the cats would accept her, or vice versa. I suppose we could keep her for a day or two and see how they adapted; bring her on by and we'll take a look at her. Are the kids with you?"
"Yes, both Morgan and Andrew are with me."
"Well, I might keep one or two of them as well. Come on by."
About three minutes later he was here, with the kids. And the puppy.
Quiet little mousy thing. I like my pups to have some spunk. To be playful, curious, adventurous. This one liked to sleep.
Morgan was holding her and petting her, while she slept. I could see that Morgan was already getting attached . . . which is what Tim was worried about. They already have four dogs.
At first Evelyn was reluctant to take the puppy. "If we take her she's YOUR dog! You'll have to feed her, take care of her, clean up after her. I'm just too busy. Too many other things to do."
"Well," I sez, "that settles it. Out in the street with the little tyke. Let a car or two run over her. Here . . Evelyn, why don't you hold the puppy just for a few minutes before we throw her to the wolves."
Ever the obedient woman, Evelyn held the puppy and I knew right then we were gonna have a new puppy in the house. I could see Evelyn melting right in front of me as that pup laid its head into the crook of her neck and just commenced to snooze, big as you please.
After a few minutes, Evelyn allowed as how maybe, just maybe, we would keep the pup for a day or two.
As to a name? I suggested "Trixie," as that had been the name of all the dogs I had ever known.
In unison, Tim and Evelyn said, "No! This pup's name will NOT be Trixie!"
They kicked around a few names and then Tim and the kids left for home . . . leaving Evelyn, and me . . . and Trixie.
Farfle, one of the cats, crept out slowly and the two looked at each other. Farfle even tried to make friends with Trixie, gently holding a paw out to touch . . . but Trixie withdrew . . . a little on the shy side. She wags her tail when she sees me. She sleeps a lot, as puppies do. She slept for about an hour with me . . . she's on Evelyn's chest right now, sound asleep, as is Evelyn (who supposedly was watching Dr. Phil).
The house is finally complete. A man. A woman. Some cats. And a puppy.
We gots a puppy! We gots a puppy! And her name is Trixie!
Crankiness . . .
I had occasion to talk to a good friend of mine this morning. He owns a
travel agency. I had mentioned that a week or so ago one of his
employees was rather short and abrupt with me . . . to the point of
being rude. He responded that he was glad I'd mentioned it, that he'd
talk to her . . . but that he understood one of the reasons she
sometimes reacted strangely.
Seems about a year ago her husband had unsuccessfully attempted suicide by shooting himself. He failed, but sustained brain damage that left him with the mental capacity of an 8 year old. Later, it was learned
that the reason for the attempted suicide was that he had apparently
embezzled $3 million from his company and lost it all.
One begins to understand how his wife might react to pressure and
sometimes be less than diplomatic in her exchanges with client and/or
friends of the business, given the severe pressures she must have been,
and continues to be, under.
This brought back a memory of mine, where I had frequented the Escondido Library on a number of occasions and noticed an unusually tart and bitter older lady who worked on the desk there. Never a kind word, never so much as a smile . . . even though, on several occasions, I
sought to cheer her up by bantering with her. To no avail. About a
year after my last encounter with her I noted in the paper that she had
died. . and learned that she had been suffering from cancer for a number
of years. Apparently this gal was in constant physical pain, as well as
the emotional pain of knowing she was terminal. She probably ought not
to have been working. . .at least not in a job that involved people
contact. But, my suspicion is she had no choice. Financially, she
probably had to work. I found myself being a bit ashamed of myself for
having judged her to quicky and too harshly, not knowing the reason for
her crankiness.
I'm seldom cranky. Usually a bright, bubbly lad, always cracking a
joke. Still, I'm capable of being moody and have been rude, on
occasion, to my later embarrassment and shame. When I have been rude, it's usually for similar reasons. Some major crisis has occurred in my life . . . and I'm uncomfortable with it. That also can make me be a
bit short and abrupt. Fortunately, that seldom occurs. Normally, I'm
just good ol' loveable Lyle. But, there are exceptions.
Those of us who make up the human race can be funny folk, can't we?
travel agency. I had mentioned that a week or so ago one of his
employees was rather short and abrupt with me . . . to the point of
being rude. He responded that he was glad I'd mentioned it, that he'd
talk to her . . . but that he understood one of the reasons she
sometimes reacted strangely.
Seems about a year ago her husband had unsuccessfully attempted suicide by shooting himself. He failed, but sustained brain damage that left him with the mental capacity of an 8 year old. Later, it was learned
that the reason for the attempted suicide was that he had apparently
embezzled $3 million from his company and lost it all.
One begins to understand how his wife might react to pressure and
sometimes be less than diplomatic in her exchanges with client and/or
friends of the business, given the severe pressures she must have been,
and continues to be, under.
This brought back a memory of mine, where I had frequented the Escondido Library on a number of occasions and noticed an unusually tart and bitter older lady who worked on the desk there. Never a kind word, never so much as a smile . . . even though, on several occasions, I
sought to cheer her up by bantering with her. To no avail. About a
year after my last encounter with her I noted in the paper that she had
died. . and learned that she had been suffering from cancer for a number
of years. Apparently this gal was in constant physical pain, as well as
the emotional pain of knowing she was terminal. She probably ought not
to have been working. . .at least not in a job that involved people
contact. But, my suspicion is she had no choice. Financially, she
probably had to work. I found myself being a bit ashamed of myself for
having judged her to quicky and too harshly, not knowing the reason for
her crankiness.
I'm seldom cranky. Usually a bright, bubbly lad, always cracking a
joke. Still, I'm capable of being moody and have been rude, on
occasion, to my later embarrassment and shame. When I have been rude, it's usually for similar reasons. Some major crisis has occurred in my life . . . and I'm uncomfortable with it. That also can make me be a
bit short and abrupt. Fortunately, that seldom occurs. Normally, I'm
just good ol' loveable Lyle. But, there are exceptions.
Those of us who make up the human race can be funny folk, can't we?
How to handle a bad day . . .
For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone!! Don't take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you DON'T know!
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?"
Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.
When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "jackass," and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I'd call him up. He'd answer, and I'd yell, "You're a jackass!" It would always cheer me up.
Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the jackass. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!"
The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.
[Keep reading, it gets better.]
The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the
parking pace. I didn't think she was ever going to leave.
Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back
out of the slot. I backed up little more to give her plenty of room to
pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camaro came flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.
I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that,
Buddy. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Camaro
completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy's a jackass, there sure are a lot of jackasses in this world. I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just
gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, "You're a
jackass!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.)
I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too.
After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It's a yellow house and the
car's parked right out front."
I said, "What's your name?"
"My name is Don Hansen."
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home in the evenings."
"Listen Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
"Don, you're a jackass!" And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer.
For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after several months of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution:
First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello."
I yelled "You're a jackass!" but I didn't hang up.
The jackass said, "Are you still there?"
I said, "Yeah."
He said, "Stop calling me."
I said, "No."
He said, "What's your name, Pal?"
I said, "Don Hansen."
He said "Where do you live?"
"1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front."
"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your
prayers."
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" and I hung up.
Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello."
I said, "Hello, Jackass!"
He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?"
"I'll kick your ass."
"Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now Jackass!" And I hung up.
Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home. Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W. 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing.
Glorious!
Watching two Jackasses kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?"
Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.
When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "jackass," and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I'd call him up. He'd answer, and I'd yell, "You're a jackass!" It would always cheer me up.
Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the jackass. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!"
The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.
[Keep reading, it gets better.]
The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the
parking pace. I didn't think she was ever going to leave.
Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back
out of the slot. I backed up little more to give her plenty of room to
pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camaro came flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.
I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that,
Buddy. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Camaro
completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy's a jackass, there sure are a lot of jackasses in this world. I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just
gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, "You're a
jackass!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.)
I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too.
After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It's a yellow house and the
car's parked right out front."
I said, "What's your name?"
"My name is Don Hansen."
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home in the evenings."
"Listen Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
"Don, you're a jackass!" And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer.
For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after several months of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution:
First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello."
I yelled "You're a jackass!" but I didn't hang up.
The jackass said, "Are you still there?"
I said, "Yeah."
He said, "Stop calling me."
I said, "No."
He said, "What's your name, Pal?"
I said, "Don Hansen."
He said "Where do you live?"
"1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front."
"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your
prayers."
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" and I hung up.
Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello."
I said, "Hello, Jackass!"
He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?"
"I'll kick your ass."
"Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now Jackass!" And I hung up.
Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home. Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W. 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing.
Glorious!
Watching two Jackasses kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!
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