STORIES – The Gravy Ladle

I came across this interesting piece on the net.

There’s probably no one in the world who knows you more than your parents.

After all, they conceived you and have participated intimately in your growing up years. They’ve changed your stinky diapers, coaxed you out of your worst tantrums, nursed you back to health from your worst fevers, and watched you slip in and out of embarrassing adolescent phases.

There may be friends and partners who might grow to understand you well, but fathers and mothers have peculiar ways of finding out what you’ve got up your sleeve. And they don’t have to confront you either.

Here’s a rather amusing story I found on the Internet?

John invited his mother over for dinner. During the meal, his mother couldn’t help noticing how beautiful John’s roommate, Julie, was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between John and his roommate and this only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between John and the roommate than met the eye. Reading his mom’s thoughts, John volunteered, “I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Julie and I are just roommates.” About a week later, Julie came to John and said, “Ever since your mother came to dinner, I’ve been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don’t suppose she took it, do you?” John said, “Well, I doubt it, but I’ll write her a letter just to be sure.” So he sat down and wrote:

Dear Mother, I’m not saying you ‘did’ take a gravy ladle from my house, and I’m not saying you ‘did not’ take a gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner. Love, John

Several days later, John received a letter from his mother which read: Dear Son, I’m not saying that you ‘do’ sleep with Julie, and I’m not saying that you ‘do not’ sleep with Julie. But the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now. Love, Mom

The lesson of the day: Don’t Lie To Your Mother.

Love thy parents.

North of the Border Am I Poor?By Pat Mestern

Got this inspiring story sometimes ago.I have kept in my personal archives since.While reflecting back on 2004,I happened to come across it again and I think it is worth sharing

North of the Border Am I Poor? By Pat Mestern

A number of people have asked for some words of wisdom about poverty and being “poor”. To respond, I visited Marie, who was a close friend of grandmother’s. Marie is 103 years old. Although her eyesight is beginning to fail, her mind is tack sharp. In her own words, she raised nine children on little more than spit and polish. Marie was in her favorite place, the solarium of the retirement home sharing a book tape with her 93 year old friend. When asked to give her views about being “poor”, she happily did so. Marie, one of ten children herself, raised nine children during the depression on one of the poorest farms in the area. Eight are still living – two doctors, two lawyers, three teachers and an engineer. Marie says, “Consider this your pep talk for the day”.

“Being poor is the ultimate opportunity handed a person.

Being poor is no excuse for being filthy and uneducated. You have access to the same libraries, soap and water and schools that others do.

Being poor is no excuse for living in a dirty house and wearing dirty clothes.

Being poor is no excuse for living surrounded by clutter and garbage.

Being poor means that, if you can’t presently afford university/college, you can

educate yourself until such times as that goal is within your reach.

Being poor means being surrounded by necessities.

Being rich means being surrounded by “things”. Being rich you can buy perceived happiness.

Being poor you make happiness happen. Some are born with a silver spoon in their mouths and some have to go looking for it. They end up better people for chasing after that silver spoon, because they’ve had to learn valuable lessons along the way. Sometimes they turn that silver spoon into one of solid gold.

Being poor means you start at the bottom and work your way up.

Being rich means you start at the top and slide your way down. It’s harder to work your way up, but the trip is worth the effort. You’ll never forget what you learned along the way. You rarely slide your way down again.

Being poor means you have to give back to life, you have something to look up to, something to achieve. Being rich means you are always looking down. For some being rich means that rather than earn achievements, you try to buy them.

Stop saying I’m poor, poor, poor. Pretty soon you’ll begin to believe it.

Start saying I am at a temporary financial disadvantage right now. I can do something about it.

Stop saying I can’t even afford to put food on the table. My family ate potatoes three times a day for more than eight years and look at us today. I’m 103. All my children would still be alive if Charlie hadn’t gone skiing at age seventy-four and cracked his skull.

Stop saying the government has to do this for me, the government has to do that for me. The government does not have to pull you up by your bootstraps.

You are master of your own destiny, digger of your own rut. Destiny can be altered. Ruts are filled all the time. If you lie in yours too long, someone will bury you in it.

Self pity is the cruelest form of poverty because it is in your mind.

If you don’t like the word poor, just substitute that fancy new term “financially challenged”. Keeping up with the Jones’s is a game you cannot ever win. NEVER spend more than you make. Save a bit from everything you

make – one penny today, two tomorrow. Tuck the money away and forget you ever saw it come into the house. My children went to university on money we tucked away, and good hard work on their part to make it happen. They never heard us say “we’re poor” – “we can’t do it”. We said that it might take awhile, but if that is what you truly want, it is achievable”.