90s Story

Amen!

"Saturday, we bought a bundt cake at a bake sale at our local farmers market. It was on a china plate. I offered to bring the plate back to the organization, but was told that the plate came with the cake.
At home, I sliced and froze the cake for individual servings. I washed the plate, and lo and behold:
This was my mother's china pattern. Unlike most women, she felt, 'why have nice things if you didn't USE them?' She used her good silver for dinner. She used her good china for dinner. Her china got used, so much so that it wasn't salvageable when she passed away.
Now I have a reminder. Everyone, use the good china."
Credit : Amy Pokras

"3 weeks ago, I found this house online. I said, 'This is my house.' I called the seller and was told it was a cash-only offer. I was told, 'I’m sure that takes you off the table.' Don’t you ever underestimate a hardworking black man.
I saw the house last week and when I walked in I knew I was home. The house was built in 1820 for the Russell family who owned the cotton mill in town. Slavery was still legal. When the agent asked me why I wanted such a large house I said it was 'a generational move.' I know this house is bigger than me.
I wish I could’ve told my ancestors when they were breaking their back in 1820 to build this house that 200 years later, a black man was going to own it and fill it with love and find a way to say their name even when 200 years later they still thought I would be 'off the table.'
We are building our own tables. I’ve never been prouder to be a black man. Come to my White House any time. I can’t wait to have you! Glory to God in the highest. I’m a homeowner.

"The Last Man Standing". A heartfelt, tribute, life-sized Sculpture at Arkansas Rockport Center for the Arts Honoring WWII Veterans. This Bronze Sculpture depicts an elderly veteran standing and saluting with his right hand as he looks into the distance. The figure leans on a cane with his left hand and stands in front of a wheelchair, giving the appearance that he has just risen from the chair. 🇺🇸

"I met the sweetest elderly woman at the dog park a couple days ago and through random chatting, she told me she eats a TV dinner every night of the week. She said on special occasions, she goes to the grocery store deli and gets to buy a container of hot soup. She has no companion beside her dog and she does not cook. I told her I'd return in a couple days with something special for her. So, I turned to my trusty Nordstrom Cafe (copycat) Tomato Basil Bisque recipe developed by This Old Gal and made her containers of soup she can freeze and eat when ready. I also couldn't resist crusted parmesan Italian bread to add on the side. This recipe is so understated. PS - do for others who can never repay you." ❤️

Many of you know that I adopted two children out of the foster care system in 2008.
When these two children first came into my home, the social workers, doctors, and many of the special education professionals were fairly adamant that my two children "would not amount to much"...
In fact, I had one teacher even call the adoption agency "with concerns" that my "hopes and expectations" for these children were TOO HIGH.
I was TOO unrealistic... too unreasonable to believe that these "feral children" could excel.
I hoped and I prayed for nothing more than they wod be the amazing humans I knew them to be, living life to thier fullest potential.
I was told they would never speak full sentences in a way people could understand them... I was told Amber would forever have a limp... and Joe would never have enough balance to run in any true capacity.
We worked and worked and worked... and I prayed and prayed and prayed...
The guardian ad lietem said it was the second worse abuse case she had ever seen in her 25 years of practice. They were "without hope"
And yet... my daughter is in her second year of culinary school...
and Joe..
Well he spent the last month convincing my husband and me that he should go out for high school track (which I was 100% against, knowing his struggles).. but he didnt want to do the "Special Olympics track"... he wanted to be "normal" for just a second....
And so, we let him join...
This is him RUNNING home from track practice (by himself) yelling out the words... "Prove them wrong, go faster Joe"...
Anything is possible if you just believe....
There will always be struggle, but every day you get to decide if you will let them win.. or if you will prove them wrong....
Life is a circus, enjoy the show.

"Last week, my husband and I were in the Houston Medical Center grabbing some breakfast from this BBQ place. As we were finishing up, the man on the right (in scrubs that aren’t visible in the photo) brought in the homeless man standing next to him, telling him, 'Get whatever you want.' He grabbed only a coffee for himself, his guest requesting a modest meal of only a sandwich or burrito, I think. Once they had their food and coffee, they parted ways at the door, where he told the homeless man to have a great day. This act of kindness will stay with me for a long time. Thank you, sir!"
Credit to the respective owner

Meghan Markle Melts Hearts with Adorable New Photos of 2-Year-Old Lilibet – Fans Can’t Stop Talking! - Know More Below...👇

I did this last year for our son and his roommate for their first year of college. Some people told me it was childish and silly, rather, I thought it helped me emotionally send him off his first year. Well guess what?
The boys asked for a repeat so here it is completed and ready to go today! Never too old to want your mom doing things for you.

An 84-year-old lady called the station earlier this evening and said that she required assistance in installing her Air Conditions. She reported that it was very hot in her house, and there is no way that she could get someone to install them for her.
Due to her distress and the current temp its 85 and with the forecasts in the high 80's coming. SGT Spetelunas volunteered to help her and her spouse. SGT Spetelunas called for officer Borsari’s assistance and installed one window AC.
When on scene most of the other neighbors saw the officers who had been called to install the other two window Air Conditioners for the woman and her husband. Once again proving that people are kind to each other.

I saw a cop standing outside our house on the other side of the road looking for speeders. Sitting on a curb were two boys who I think were about 10 years old or so, and they seemed interested in the cop and the motorcycle. After some time, the officer spoke to the little boys for a few moments and invited them to check out his police speed gun, when they somehow got the guts to walk towards him. I was a spectator to the amiable exchange and thought how entertaining it must be for those boys. Then one boy dashed over the other side road and I heard the officer bellow; “Thank you! Eleven miles an hour.” The boys along with the officer started celebrating their achieved speed. And I cheer silently having an officer like this in Madison WI who stops during his busy day to be a human. This picture was taken when the runner dashed the last few meters to get a final reading on his speed. Remember neighbors: It is one of the softest of weapons, focus and distance, and today it is eleven miles an hour on a street corner in Madison."

My neighbor is a ninety-six-year-old who lives on the third floor. This is his garden. When we came to the house, he gave me a piece of land and told me that I was free to look after and take as much water as I wished. His assistant said that coming down was difficult for him, so we wanted him to see the sunflowers we planted. Well, one finally blossomed! I called him instead and asked him to peep out of the window. The delight he experienced was, to say the least, breathtaking.

For example, instead of saying, I’m familiar with what you feel, we can say, I can’t imagine your heartbreak.
Or avoid saying, You’re strong, you’ll get through this, say, You’ll hurt, and I’ll be here.
Or instead of saying, I see that you’re okay, one can say, How are you doing today?
Instead of saying, It will take time to heal, let’s say, There is no timeline on healing.
In separatism, instead of saying, there is a purpose in a way that everything takes place, let’s say, This must feel so terribly senseless right now.
But even when there are no words to say, you can’t find any or try to find any. Infatuation too has its unspoken language.
Instead of saying, "I know what it feels like", let's say "I cannot imagine your heartbreak".
Instead of saying, "You're strong, you'll get through this, let's say " You'll hurt, and I'll be here.
Instead of saying, "You look like you're doing well, Let's say, "How are you holding up today?"
Instead of saying, "Healing takes time", let's say "Healing has no timeline".
Instead of saying, "Everything happens for a reason, let's say "This must feel so terribly senseless right now".
And when there are no words to say at all, you don't need to try and find some. Love speaks in silences too.

What an honorable man this is! For the last year and a half, 86 years old Jake Reissig has been going through the same routine. Every day he attends his church than he meets one of his 9 kids for coffee before heading home, snipping one of the beautiful roses in his home garden and putting it on the tomb of his wife of 65 years. Because of the drought in Texas this summer, he also added maintaining the grass around her headstone to his chores. One day while watering the grass, he heard sobs and upon turning saw a woman kneeling down. He did learn that her brother had served in the United States Air Force and passed away in the year two thousand ten. So that is why Jake decided that he would also add this to the list of things to do. Water the grave site for the serviceman who had passed away, Joseph Villasenor. When the family members came to visit the grave for the next time they could not believe what they saw, the balding greens are lush and in dazzling effulgence, and a stranger, not even a family member had graced the dead’s son with everything! Jake says that Joe is not a stranger, because he interacts with Joe on a daily basis while watering the grass, whether Joe is real or not.
How sweet, this is definitely much more than the chore of watering the green! Thumbs UP to Jake for his wonderful regard and compassion!!! He has this rather enviable old fashioned respect of which we need much more of!!!

After serving a lengthy sentence of 10 years in jail for drugs, Bryant Collins was released from jail and decided to make positive changes in his life – he is currently employed as a mechanic. Unfortunately though, last week, he was driving on one of the highways in Georgia where he saw something on the side of the road moving. It was a baby – a 15 months old child who was about to crawl into the road! He screeched his foot down on the brake! To his relief, he reached the baby just in time and no damage had been done! As it turned out, the girl’s parents were careless and the girl was able to crawl some distance from their house which was almost a mile! Last but not the least, Bryant stayed there for two hours because he wanted to be with her and talk to the police and the parents of the girl are seriously in trouble!!!! Of course!! Last and not least, all those who has been a brave enough to give rescue this little girl, give him a big thumb up, her hero Bryant!!!

A little while ago, a 23-year-old named Moving Guy, Cesar Larios was trapped in an elevator together with several persons, one of them being an elderly woman with a walker at an assisted home. She told him she could not uphold herself for long, so Cesar crouched down and allowed her to sit on his back until the elevator came to life again! And he remained doing it for half an hour! How well a young man he shows to others – admirable. So, let’s applaud him, thank him for his kindness!

This old man, who hasn’t even driven a car for years, went out to the nearest shop to buy a pack of sweets for his 79 year old wife on Valentine’s Day. When the man drove to the store for food, a store patron called the police to express concerns over his driving and to ensure he made it home safely. Deputy Gulley answered the call and went to the store and after hearing the case decided that these two people should be commended for being together for 79 years and give them a special valentine. He along with some of the customers of the old couple arranged a gift basket for them. Officer Gulley went to the man’s house not just to ensure that he made it home safely but also helped in delivering the groceries to the old man and her wife. Wow what a man! Deputy Gulley deserves some praise for being a nice man and going the extra step to help out.

"Twenty years ago today, this man my father was driving into work in NYC. While on the Brooklyn Bridge in his personal van, he saw the climactic event of the day and ran towards it with no equipment except his bravery panics and worry about the consequences.
Once arrived, he took an orange safety helmet and put it on. He started to guide and take completely innocent people out of and away from ground zero. As the first tower collapsed he would have been very glad to have that orange construction head guard on. The top of the helmet was knocked off by falling debris as the building’s roof came crashing down around him. Servers got bashed in and that didn’t stop him as he kept helping and moving people away from the destruction."
Indeed, it was on that day that the Almighty looked favorably upon him and brought him home. After the attacks, he went to ground zero every single day to help out and contribute to the efforts put in towards looking for survivors. Such a burden that takes a toll on his health hasn't been easy, but he has managed to cope with every little pain that comes with every twist. If I had only one hero, he would be and will always remain my number one man. When it came to the turn where I had to choose a name for my son, then there is absolutely no doubt that I name my son after him. I love you! Thanks Dad.

“One more since I woke up yesterday with 6 kids”
“09/26/14 We got back at night after a swim and at 9.30 for the second time, someone called our phone. 3 kids needed a place to go.
What’s the deal with them calling us? Don’t we have already SIX kids!’
But that time, social workers had been driving for almost 4 hours trying to find somewhere for them to go. So I guess at 11:00 PM – 2 of my favorite social workers – everyone tired out – came with 3 precious kids to our place.
Yesterday I woke up with 6 kids and today... It’s 9 kids still.
Now that just sounds plain ridiculous doesn’t it?
But then again, if not us... who?
There ARE NOT ENOUGH FOSTER HOMES to put the kids who need them and that’s why we have 9.
Well, side eye me at Wal-Mart if you may. But....
I dare one and everyone, for that matter, to say this is too much for us. Because it is.
I dare you to say someone else should – who?
I dare you to say that we should have said no to these kids. How could we have?
A friend reminded me today – Jesus is born in the barn because everybody said no there’s no space.
I will make space.”
Stepping off my soap box now….and that’s the end of that.”

Okay, let’s go into the pizzeria so that we can grab a slice while doing the downtown art walk/ beer sampling. At that time as we are in there, a person walks in behind us. I have noticed this woman on the streets in downtown in the evenings. She looks like a suffering lady to me. She politely tells the counter person that she would like an old piece of pizza if they happen to have any, and apologizes. The counter person (who happens to be one of the young men running the business) has no issues with it and grabs a new slice from the front that needs to be heated. He waits for it to warm up and hands it over to her and she asks him if she could go back there sometime and see if there is something to eat. She promised she would never step inside the shop more than once in a week, and she’s very sorry. The young guy says “you apologizing to me about that is totally unnecessary as it is not an offense because there will be various instances when you will feel hungry, and for those instances, you can walk in at any given time and pizza will be provided. ”

I was not dressed for the evening out with friends when Holden requested that I decorate a Christmas tree. I had been pestering him all week jokingly filling in how he needed to help me with the tree. He had always had something better to do instead. Cough cough, Fortnite. Anyway, I literally had to get out of the door in 25 minutes but the boy made puppy eyes so I gave in.
ME: Aha yes I will do this but in 15 minutes because honestly it is belated and I have to go out.
So about 15 minutes passed and saying that I had to go get ready I stood up. But he did not want to stop. He just went on, He was very intent on completing something I felt. And when I came back downstairs, he was sooooo pleased with his craft, his tree.
HOLDEN: Mom, you HAVE TO put this on the blog. You’re going to get a bunch of views at it.
ME: Absolutely, buddy.
I didn’t mention any other kinds of pictures of trees that people post. The 20-foot trees, which are a few inches away from the ceiling. The trees are covered with irrevocable ‘bone’ wraps. Trees draped with ostentatious farmhouse ornaments to complement the ostentatious farmhouse style. Absolutely not, the height of our tree is 7.5-feet and is draped with all sorts of decorative pieces that seem to be placed on a tree by a child. Because, it was. And (yes!) to him, it’s the best tree in the world. As far as I am concerned, it is.

THE TRAIN:
Right from the moment of our birth, it was as if we were on a train and infused with a misty love from parents in the belief that they would always be there alongside us. Along the journey, more people will come and take a seat on this train; and these will be important i.e. our brothers and sisters, friends, children and even the one you are in love with.
Nonetheless, there comes a time when most parents will alight at a particular stage and leave us to continue with this journey alone. Some of the others will alight after a while and leave a vacuum that cannot be filled. Some others will leave quietly and he might not notice that they vacated their seats.
This train journey is going to be accompanied by happiness, sadness, fantasies, optimism, initiation, ending and fare. All of these elements combine to sum up the so called success which is defined as a plus in the relations with all the passengers onboard and which means that we have to give them the best that we can.
Everyone is surprised with this mystery: Since it is clear that the passengers do not know at which station they will alight, and this concerns them all. Therefore, it is best to live, love, ask for pardon and give all the best of one’s self. It is worth doing it, because, once it is time to get off, and the place is empty, it should be empty with reaction memories from all those taking a journey in this life train.
I hope you all have a delightful trip.

“He worked for 13 hours in plus 90 degrees and he walked through the door, 'I’m home. How can I help you?'
Unfortunately, these are also the words I hear from him quite a lot.
Not a ‘unicorn’. Men like these exist.
The kind who wash the dishes after you cook. Who do the yard work because they know you hate it. Who work for more than sixty hours and when they go home, play with their children, kiss their wife and ask, ‘What's next? Any work for me?’
Who gets up some nights to change the baby’s diaper while you get ready for a night feeding. Who gives the kids baths and puts them down for bed. Who spends his weekends with going to his family. Who has a beer once the kids are down and plays Farkle and Rummy with his wife.
Head of the household, respect edge woman as equal partner, bread earn-as-protecting man, and physical father. This husband is the reason I am happy today, and this husband, is also appreciative of the domestic work I do with 2 kids, nursing, cooking and cleaning.
We do support each other. Dawn promises me, what she doesn’t say is, if Binti does this for him, then why can’t my husband. It is 50/50 and just like their father, we are bringing up our boys to be men.
Some partners resent their wives, I have seen men so many women feel bad to damn their complaints partners do not help any way in children, the expenses, house chores, pay them any heed etc.
For instance, 'Oh, that is how men are' or 'Well, someone has to bear this and I choose to be that target.' How many times have you had to hear this and seriously inquire away or look the other way that – it is not a man but how such paraphrases do appear as stood by.
Women, wow, this is not a man. Cherish the emotions, sulk when a man does not motivate or get swayed by false loyalty adorning greater in search of more words. If you are not stifled and have that kind of man who adores you wear your crown use that theme in clothing for yourself.
When one does not go to work with sick blisters on one’s hands and the bandage on one’s head. The two of us, my husband, and myself, happen to do the caring as well and have managed very satisfactorily.
So many crowns of joy and happiness on you, my beautiful kings and queens."

On my way home from school one cold day, I came across a find a wallet that someone lost on the street. I opened it to search for some means of contacting the owner. However, all I could find inside the wallet was three dollars and a tattered piece of paper.
The postcard was old. The return address was all that could be seen. I said to myself let me peel it open and see what is inside. It was then that I spotted the date – 1924. The letter was written nearly six decades ago.
The script was very feminine and inscribed in the powder blue paper with a splash of flower at the left corner. It was a Dear John letter, which was addressed to one Michael informing the owner of the letter why she would not be able to see him anymore. Still, she wrote that there will always be love for him. Hannah signed it.
It was a stunning letter - however, save for the name Michael, there was no way to ascertain who the owner was. Perhaps, if I called information, the operator would be able to search for the phone listing that was associated with the address on the envelope.
"This is what," I went on, "the operator. And the reason I am asking is quite different. I am looking for a person who is the owner of a wallet. Is there a chance, that you can inform me about the absence of a phone number in the wallet for that address?"
She tried to defend precisely this, explaining that the soft boss is inside. She, however, looked thoughtful for a moment and replied, “There is a telephone directory for that address; however, I am not permitted to divulge the number to you.” So, she explained that out of respect, she will go ahead and call that number, tell them my story, and ask if they would want me to be put in touch with one of them. A little later when I listened again to her voice. “I have a party who will speak with you.”
I proceeded to inquire of the woman on the other end whether she knew Hannah. She gasped, 'Oh! We bought this house from people whose daughter was Hannah. But this was three decades back!' "Do you know whatever happened to that family or where they are now?" I inquired.
"Perhaps it is because Hannah had to put her mother into a nursing home some years back," said the woman. “Guess you’d have a better chance if you contacted those people; perhaps, they could find the daughter.”
She told me where the nursing home was located and I dialed the number. They said that the old lady had died quite a while ago but they did say they had a phone number which seemed to be the daughter’s residency. I thanked them and made a call. A lady on the other side said that at present, Hannah herself was residing in a nursing home.
I found this whole thing stupid, I said to myself. What was the problem with me that I was making so much fuss of looking for the owner of a wallet with only three dollars and an antique almost sixty year old letter?
Still, I passed on calling the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, Yes, Hannah is with us
It was already 10 in the evening, and I asked if I would be able to come and see her. It’s not perhaps impossible,” he said hesitantly, “but if you want to take a chance on whether she is there, she might be in the day room watching TV.”
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. At the entrance there were the night nurse and some guard. We ascended to the third floor of the big building. In the day room the nurse brought me to Hannah.
She was a lady of advanced years, well into her seventies perhaps, with sweetest of demeanor and with a sparkle in her eyes. I mentioned about discovering the wallet and presented to her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower, she took a deep breath and went “Young man, this letter was the last time I was ever able to reach out to Michael.”
She turned away from me and went into an internal dialogue for several seconds, softening her voice; “I was very fond of him. But I was just 16 and my mother thought it was too early for me. Oh yes, how good looking he was. Just like an actor, Sean Connery.”
“Yes,” she continued. “He was decent, Michael Goldstein. If you should find him, say to him I think of him quite frequently. And,” she cleared her throat, licking her lips in between hesitations, “I love him even now. You know,” she smiled so broadly that now tears welled in her eyes, “I never actually did get married. I suppose over the years I haven't found anyone who measured up to Michael…”
I thanked Hannah and parted ways with her.
I used the lift to go down to the ground floor, and while I was waiting by the door, a guard there asked, “Did the old lady help you at all?”
I told him even that helped me in a way. “At least I have a last name. But I think I shall let it go for a while. I spent nearly the entire day trying to trace this wallet’s owner.”
The wallet which I had taken out was nothing but a brown case with red stitches on the edges. When the guard noticed it, he began, “Oh wait! This is Mr. Goldstein's wallet! We match like that bright red on the wallet, He has a way of losing that wallet. So, as for me, I think I have come across it in the corridors as many as three times.”
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I inquired and at the same time, my hand started dangerously shaking.
"He's one of the veterans on the 8th Floor. That's definitely Mike Goldstein's wallet. He must have dropped it during one of his walks." I thanked the guard and hurried back to the nurse's office. I recounted what the guard had said. We returned to the lift and entered it. I hoped that Mr. Goldstein was awake.
On the eighth floor, the attending nurse told me, 'I think he has gone to the day room. He usually reads novels in the night. He's such a nice old man.'
We went to the only room that had any lights on, and there was a man with a book open in front of him. The nurse made towards him and said, ‘Did you misplace your wallet their sir? Mr. Goldstein raised his head in astonishment reached into the rear pocket of his trousers and said, 'Oh, it is gone!'
'This nice gentleman picked up a wallet and we were hoping it belongs to you?"’
I brought out the wallet and Mr. Goldstein was so pleased and said "Yes, that is it, yes, I dropped it from my pocket. Just this afternoon. I want to give you some tip..."
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you, I want to give you a tip. I read that letter because I wanted to find out the owner of that wallet."
The smile on his face vanished like a puff of smoke. “You read that ‘letter’?”
"Not only did I read it; I have reasoning where Hannah is."
He suddenly became pale.
“Hannah? You know where she is? How do you feel? Is she still as beautiful as she was before? Please, please tell me,” he said on his knees.
''She is well… and just as beautiful as you remember.” I said quietly.
With interest, the old man asked, “So where is she please? I would like to ring her up tomorrow.” He held my hand and then told me “You know something mister, I was so on that girl, and when that letter came, it was like my life was over. I never got to marry anyone. I think I have loved her all my life.”
Listen to me, Mr. Goldstein, I said, Rather come with me.
We rode the lift down to the third floor. The corridors were dim and only one or two quite small night-lamps were lighting the way to a day room where Hannah who now sat watching television was the only occupant. One of the nurses went towards her.
“Hannah,” she gently said, turning to Michael who was standing with me in the doorway. “Does this man look familiar to you?”
She changed the position of her spectacles, saw for some time, but could only breathe.
“Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you know me?” Michael’s voice was low, almost a whisper.
She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it! Michael! It’s you! My Michael!"
He made his careful way to her, and they held one another. The nurse and I went out of the building with the tears still down our cheeks.
“See,” I told him. “See how the Good Lord works! Nothing can prevent this if it is to happen.”
About three weeks later I received a call right at my office from the nursing home. “Can you come on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are getting married!”
The wedding was just delightful with everyone from the nursing home dressed for a festive occasion. Hannah was in a light beige dress and she was really elegant. Michael was in a navy blue suit and he was looking very handsome.
They made me their best man. The doctors cleared the couple and gave them a room of their own. And if ever such a thing ever crossed your mind of a grand bride aged 76 being bundled off to be with a groom aged 79 who happens to be acting like a teen, this couple was the one.
And a happily ever after conclusion to a romance that had endured for almost sixty years.