Paano Manligaw

ANG TANONG

Dear Mr. Bob Ong,

Matagal ko na pong nililigawan itong ramp model na stage actress na nakilala ko recently sa isang party. Nasisiraan na ako ng bait. Pag nakilala mo siya, tiyak matutunaw ang utak mo sa kakaisip sa kanya.

Hingi lang po ako ng advice. Paano ko po siya mapapaibig? Bibigyan ko ba siya ng tula ? Haharanahin ko ba siya? Roses? Kalachuchi? Chocnut at sampaguita?

In lab na po ako. Ano po ang gagawin ko? Is she the one.

Lubos na gumagalang,
- Bartolome -


ANG REPLY

Dear Bartolome,

Hindi ka talaga sasagutin niyang nililigawan mo. Napaka-old school kasi ng mga tactics mo. Wala nang gumagawa ng ganyan. Sa panahon ngayon, lahat ng bagay, nagtaas na. Nagtaas na ang gasolina, nagtaas na ang presyo ng bigas at mga bilihin, nagtaas na ang pamasahe, at lalong nagtaas na rin ng standards ang mga babae. Hindi na uubra yang siopao at kalachuci mo. Lalo na yung huli mong binigay, hopia at santan. Ano ba pare? Ano'ng era ka ba pinanganak?

Pero don't worry. It's not too late. May pag-asa ka pa. Hindi pa naman siya kinakasal at di pa niya sinasagot yung crush niya na basketball player. Kahit lamang siya ng sampung paligo sa'yo, daanin mo sa utak at creativity. Dahil aminin na natin, iyon na lang talaga ang pag-asa mo. Heto, bibigyan kita ng mga simple, tried and tested na mga regalo para di siya mapurga sa hopia at siomai. Sundin mo 'to, tiyak na lalaglag ang bagang niya sa'yo. Mga medyo more than your usual regalong panligaw:

1. Bili ka ng century tuna. Ilagay mo sa isang napakalaking box-yung sinlaki ng TV o kaya box ng desktop PC mo. Tapos balutan mo ng magarang pambalot. Kuntsabahin mo na yung teacher niya sa Calculus.. Sa gitna ng klase, bigla kang kumatok sa classroom. Pero dapat, incognito ka. Magsuot ka ng LBC jacket, magshades, at magsuot ng surgical mask. Pagpasok mo sa classroom, iabot mo yung box sa teacher, at papirmahin mo ng acknowledgement receipt. Tapos pabuksan mo in front of everyone. Tignan mong mabuti ang reaction sa mukha niya.

Later during the day, pag tinanong niya kung bakit Century Tuna ang binigay mo, iikot mo yung lata at ituro mo yung sign na "Omega 8." Pag tinanong niya kung ano yung Omega 8, sabihin mo: "because you're good for my heart."

2. Mangolekta ka ng isang dosenang hanger na libre mong nakukuha tuwing nagpapa-dry clean ka. Tapos, sa bawat hanger, isulat mo: "I miss hanging out with you."

3. Instead of roses, kuha ka ng tissue paper sa banyo ng school mo. Gawin mong tissue paper roses. Gawa ka ng isang dosena. Pag-abot mo, sabihin mo, "Ganito kalinis ang pag-ibig ko sa'yo."

4. Bili ka ng tetra pack ng mantikang Minola. Tapos bilugan mo yung "with Omega 8." Hindi na siya magtatanong kung bakit.

5. Bigyan mo ng ice cream cone. Dapat cone lang at walang ice cream. Pag hinanap niya yung ice cream, sabihin mo, "natunaw na kakatitig sa'yo."

6. Bili ka ng sandosenang box ng crayola. Kolektahin mo lahat ng black. Lagay mo sa isang box ng crayola. Sa likod, isulat mo: "Walang kulay ang buhay kung wala ka."

7. Bigyan mo siya ng mumurahing bumbilya. Alam mo na siguro by this time kung ano ang isasagot pag tinanong niya kung bakit.

8. Itext mo siya ng: "Hindi tayo tao, hindi tayo hayop, hindi tayo halaman. Bagay tayo. Bagay!"

9. Bigyan mo siya ng calling card ng MMDA. Sa likod, isulat mo "para pag nagkabanggaan ang puso natin."

10. Padalhan mo ng Happy Meal pero huwag mong ibibigay yung libreng laruan. Paghinanap niya, sabihin mo: "Ako yung freebie, at ikaw yung meal na nagpapahappy sa'kin."

11. Sunugin ang kanyang bahay at padalhan ng hallmark card: "aanhin mo pa ang bahay mo, kung matagal ka nang nakatira sa puso ko"

12. Pagatapos sunugin ang kanyang bahay, padalhan siya ng isang box ng posporo, Guitar brand. unahan ang kanyang galit at sabihin, "ayan ang posporo na ginamit ko sa pagsunog ng iyong bahay, match na tayo"

13. Sa kalagitnaan ng isang malupit na bagyo, pasalubungan sya ng "salbabida", wag payong, o mainit na mami. Pag nagtanong bkt? ang isagot mo ay " ayaw kong malunod ka sa pag mamahal ko."

14. Pag pumayag na siyang makipagdate, dalhin mo siya sa canteen at huwag bibitawan ang kamay. Pag tinanong niya kung bakit, ituro mo yun sign na "don't leave your valuables unattended"

Handang tumulong lagi,
-Bob Ong-

The Secret to Old Age

A doctor on his morning walk, noticed an older lady sitting on her front step smoking a cigar, so he walked up to her and said, "I couldn't help but notice how happy you look! What is your secret?"

"I smoke ten cigars a day," she said. "Before I go to bed, I smoke a nice big joint. Apart from that, I drink a whole bottle of Jack Daniels every week, and eat only junk food. On weekends, I pop pills, get laid, and don't exercise at all."

"That is absolutely amazing! How old are you?"

"Thirty-four," she replied.

Death - a Wonderful Explanation

A sick man turned to his doctor as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side."

Very quietly, the doctor said, "I don't know."

"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other side?"

The doctor was holding the handle of the door; On the other side came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice my dog? He's never been in this room before. He didn't know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened, he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing... I know my Master is there and that is enough."

Bill Gates's Facebook

A Real-Life Jamie Sullivan*

A confirmed true story.

The girl in the picture is Katie Kirkpatrick, she is 21 . Next to her, her fiancé, Nick, 23. The picture was taken shortly before their wedding ceremony, held on January 11, 2005 in the US . Katie has terminal cancer and spend hours a day receiving medication. In the picture, Nick is waiting for her on one of the many sessions of quimo to end.

In spite of all the pain, organ failures, and morphine shots, Katie is going along with her wedding and took care of every detail. The dress had to be adjusted a few times due to her constant weight loss.

An unusual accessory at the party was the oxygen tube that katie used throughout the ceremony and reception as well. The other couple in the picture are Nick's parents. Excited to see her son marrying his high school sweetheart.

Katie, in her wheelchair with the oxygen tube, listening to a song from her husband and friends.

At the reception, Katie had to take a few rests.The pain does not allow her to stand up for long periods.

Katie died five days after her wedding day. Watching a woman so ill and weak getting married and with a smile on her face makes us think..... Happiness is reachable, no matter how long it last. We should stop making our lives complicated.

*Jamie Sullivan is the name of a character from the book/movie A Walk to Remember who also got married while she had cancer.

The Best Out-Of-Office Email Auto-Replies

1: I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position.
2: I'm not really out of the office. I'm just ignoring you.
3: You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.
4: Sorry to have missed you but I am at the doctors having my brain removed so that I may be promoted to management.
5: I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from vacation on 4/18. Please be patient and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.
6: Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged $5.99 for the first ten words and $1.99 for each additional word in your message.
7: The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again.
( The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in-duh-viduals did this over and over)
8: Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.
9: Hi. I'm thinking about what you've just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.
10: Hi! I'm busy negotiating the salary for my new job. Don't bother to leave me any messages.
11: I've run away to join a different circus.

AND, FINALLY, THIS ONE TAKES THE CAKE:
12: I will be out of the office for the next 2 weeks for medical reasons. When I return, please refer to me as 'Loretta' instead of 'Steve'

Bob Ong Quotes

"Iba ang walang ginagawa sa gumagawa ng wala"

"Kahit gaano man kadaming signs ang dumating at matupad. Kung hindi ka niya mahal. hindi ka niya mahal."

"Kahit anung bagal ng paglakad mo, kung hindi ka naman gustong habulin. hindi ka talaga maaabutan, kahit na mag-stop over ka pa."

"Siguro kung tatamaan ng kidlat ang mga taong di tumutupad sa salitang "promise". Magmimistulang fire works display everyday..."

"sa kahit anong kalakaran ng buhay, tandaan mo na gaano mo man paghandaan ang katotohanan, laging mas masakit ang tama kaysa inaasahan."

"Ang babae nirerespeto, minamahal, inaalagaan. Hindi yan PSP na bubunutin mo lang sa bulsa pag gusto mo nang paglaruan. hindi yan IPOD na pakikinggan mo lang pag wala ka ng libangan. At hindi yan RED HORSE na pwede mong laklakin hanggang madaling araw. Ang babae, marami mang arte sa katawan, hindi yan gadget para kolektahin at paglaruan."

"Kapag hindi ka mahal ng taong mahal mo, huwag kang magagalit, kasi may mga tao rin na mahal na mahal ka pero hindi mo kayang mahalin kaya quits lang kayo."

"Masyado na kkasing maraming bura ang papel, hindi na pwedeng gamitin. dapat ng itapon sa basurahan. Hindi naman iiyak ang mundo para lang sa isang tao."

"Obligasyon kong maglayag. karapatan kong pumunta saan ko man gusto. Responsibilidad ko ang buhay ko."

"Hiwalayan na kung hindi ka na masaya. Walang gamot sa tanga kundi pagkukusa."

"Minsan pala, kailangan mo rin ng lakas para sabihing mahina ka."

"Ayokong nasasanay sa mga bagay na pwede na mang wala sa buhay ko."

"Paano mo ba titingnan ang baso, kalahating puno ba? o kalahating bawas?"

"Hindi dahil hindi mo kayang intindihin ay kasinungalingan. At hindi lahat ng kayang mong intindihin ay katotohanan."

"Hindi lungkot at takot ang mahirap sa pag-iisa, kundi ang pagtanggap na sa bilyong-bilyong tao sa mundo, ni isa walang nakipaglaban pra lang makasama ka."

"Walang taong manhid, hindi niya lang talaga maintindihan ang nais mong iparating dahil ayaw mo siyang diretsuhin."

"Nalaman kong napakaliit na bagay pala ng isang recitation, project at quiz para sumira sa buhay mo. At napakalaking pagkakamali na kalimutan mo ang pangarap mo para lang makaiwas sa mga terror teachers at mahihirap na subjects."

"Mag-aral maigi; kung titigil ka sa pag-aaral, manghihinayang ka sa pagtanda mo dahil hindi mo naranasan ang kakaibang ligayang dulot ng mga araw na walang pasok o suspendido ang klase o absent ang teacher."

"Masama akong tao, tulad mo, sa parehong paraan na mabuti kang tao, tulad ko."

"Sa paglipas ng panahon, maging ang mga crush ng bayan sa eskwelahan e nagmumukha ring pandesal. Maniwala ka."

"dalawang dekada ka lang mag-aaral. kung 'di mo pagtityagaan, limang dekada ng kahirapan ang kapalit.sobrang luri. kung alam lang 'yan ng mga kabataan, sa pananaw ko ehh walang gugustuhing umiwas sa eskwela."

“Kung hindi mo mahal and isang tao, wag ka nang magpakita ng motibo para mahalin ka nya..”

“Kung paniniwalaan namin kayo na hindi naglaro ng tubig kahit na basa ang damit n’yo, kayo ang niloloko namin; Hindi kayo ang nakapanloloko.”

Men's Rules

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down. Finally , the guys' side of the story. We always hear the rules from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side. These are our rules!

Please note.. these are all numbered '1 ' ON PURPOSE!

1. Men are NOT mind readers.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work!
Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work!
Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become Null and void after 7 Days.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not A color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say 'nothing,' We will act like nothing's wrong.
We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine... Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as FOOTBALL or motor sports.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!

1. Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;
But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

Quotable Quotes

Failure's hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you're successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever. It is so, so much harder to leave a good thing.
-Po Bronson

Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
-Steve Jobs

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
-Steve Jobs

Love cannot be learned in isolation. You have to be around people—irritating, imperfect, frustrating people!

They scoff at scars, those that have not felt the wounds.

Don’t try so hard! The best things come when you least expect them.

If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself alone. A man should keep his friendships in constant repair.

A wonderful thing about a book, in contrast to a computer screen, is that you can take it to bed with you.

Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes is certain for those who are friends.
-Richard Bach, "Illusions"

True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable.
-Dave Tyson Gentry-

I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will.
-Henry David Thoreau-

Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength.

The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.

The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not smashing it.

Missing someone gets easier everyday because even though it is one day further from the last time you saw each other, it is one day closer to the next time you will.

It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it - and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again - and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore.
-Mark Twain-

When a delay comes into your life, always ask yourself: How can I be blessed by this interruption? Life is too short to complain.
-Bo Sanchez-

Destiny is a name often given in retrospect to choices that had dramatic consequences.
-JK Rowling-

You cannot leave a footprint that lasts if you are walking on a tiptoe.
-Marion C. Blakey-

What goes through your mind when someone says "Let's go for a drink"?

Popping the Question

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Happily Ever After

It was a typical Tucson winter day, cool and sunny. I met my boyfriend for lunch at a sandwich shop near the college I was attending. We had limited time so we ate quickly. Jeff had to get back to work; his afternoon would be busy. Before parting, Jeff asked if I wanted to go to Happy Hour that evening. I agreed and we kissed goodbye.

That afternoon biology class was dismissed early. I jumped into my car to drive home, change clothes, and freshen up before our date. As I headed up the ramp to the freeway, my cell phone rang.

“I’m off early. Had to go to the post office and bank,” Jeff explained. He was in his car only minutes ahead of me.

“Isn’t this great? We have plans and we both got out early!”

“Where are you?” Jeff asked.

“Still a couple of miles behind you.” I gave him my cross streets.

Jeff suddenly interjected, “I’m sorry I haven’t been very romantic lately.”

“No, I guess you haven’t,” I agreed. “But we’ve been busy, it’s okay.”

“Valentine’s Day is coming up. I promise to do something romantic, at least get you a card.”

“That’s a start.”

“Where are you now?” he asked, more impatiently. I looked at the street signs and read them off to him. “Well, hurry up. I want to get to Happy Hour.”

We had plenty of time. Why the hurry? He was acting so strange.

“I can meet you at the restaurant if you prefer,” I suggested. “Or, if we meet at the house we can ride together and catch up on our day.” He agreed, and we hung up again.

My cell phone rang again.

“Beth, I just got home. What happened to the garage door? Did you break it this morning?” The garage door was our main entry to the house.

“It was fine when I left. Maybe your automatic opener isn’t working?” Minutes later I pulled beside Jeff’s car in our driveway. I repeatedly pressed the button on my garage opener. Nothing. With a shrug, I walked up to the front door and turned the knob.

As I stepped into the living room, my jaw dropped and my eyes grew big. A camera flashed.

I was swimming in a sea of balloons. Balloons on the floor. Balloons on the ceiling. Dozens and dozens... hundreds of colorful balloons. Jazz music played in the background.

After my eyes adjusted, I saw Jeff sitting on the couch, camera in hand. He said, “You agreed I wasn’t very romantic, so I decided to whip something up.”

Still in shock, I trudged through the balloons to hug him. I felt like I was in slow motion.

Jeff nodded toward the coffee table. “You have something to open.” There sat a bucket with a champagne bottle on ice, two crystal champagne flutes, two candles and a blue ribbon... tied around a little blue box.

I picked up the box and slowly pulled the ribbon. Inside was a ring box. I lifted the lid and found... a gold stickpin? I looked at Jeff with raised eyebrows.

He folded his arms across his chest, settled back and grinned. “It looks like you have some popping to do.”

“What?” I looked around the room. “Oh!”

Not wasting a moment, I grabbed the pin and began sticking balloons. Laughing all the while, I searched for “the” balloon. But there were so many, I finally started shaking them and throwing them to the side.

“Don’t forget there are balloons on the ceiling,” Jeff reminded me. I looked up.

After an eternity, I shook a red balloon. Something rattled! When I poked it with my gold stickpin, shiny heart-shaped confetti cascaded around me. A blue ring bag fell to the carpet.

Trembling, I tipped it open until a ring fell into my hand. Jeff gently took it and urged me to sit on the couch.

“You know me. I have to do this the traditional way.” As he lowered himself to one knee, his brown eyes gazed into mine. He asked me to be his wife and slipped the princess-cut diamond on my finger.

After my eager “Yes!” and many kisses later, Jeff said, “Oh... and... by the way... we are not going to Happy Hour.”

When Someone Steals Your Kodak Moment

A Cherokee Indian Story

Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage? His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone. He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a MAN. He cannot tell the other boys of this experience because each lad must come into manhood on his own.

The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blew the grass and earth, and shook his stump, but he sat stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night, the sun appeared and he removed his blindfold. It was then that he discovered his father sitting on the stump next to him. He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.

We, too, are never alone. Even when we don't know it, our Heavenly Father is watching over us, sitting on the stump beside us. When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him.

Moral of the Story: Just because you can't see God, doesn't mean He is not there..

'For we walk by faith, not by sight.' ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

Appointment with Love

by S.I. Kishor

Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York's Grand Central Station. The tall, young army lieutenant lifted his sunburned face and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him. In six minutes he would see the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had sustained him unfailingly.

Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes. In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer:

"Of course you fear…all brave men do. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk among the shadow of the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'"

He had remembered and it had renewed his strength.

Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six. A girl passed close to him and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was only about 18, and Hollis Meynell had told him she was 30.

"What of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32!" He was 29.

His mind went back to the book he had read in the training camp. "Of Human Bondage," it was, and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had gotten hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address.

He had written; she had answered.

Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing. For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote him anyway, and now he believed he loved her and she loved him.

But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely), then I'd always fear that you were only going on writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision."

One minute to six…he pulled hard on a cigarette. Then Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped. A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers; her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive. He started toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small provocative smile curved her lips.

"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured. He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her feet were filled into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat. The girl in the green suit was walking away.

Blandford felt as if he was being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep his longing for the woman whose spirit had companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. He could see that her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm twinkle.

Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of "Of Human Bondage" which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful. He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held the book out toward the woman, although while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment.

"I'm Lieutenant Blandford, and you - you are Ms. Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May - may I take you out to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked to go out with you, I should tell you she's waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test."

The Price of a Child

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Wisdom of Dads

“Daddy, how much did I cost?”

Perched on my parents’ cedar chest in the bedroom, I listened to their casual talk about budgets and paychecks -- talk as relevant back in 1967 as it is today. My then-six-year-old mind concluded, wrongly, that my family was poor.

Dad stood at his dresser, looking at bills. He wore faded jeans, an undershirt and white canvas shoes stained grass-green from mowing our lawn. Mom folded laundry on the bed, making even towers of sun-dried clothes. I spotted my new shorts sets and thought about day camp.

Their money talk continued, and Dad joined me on the cedar chest. I plunked the springy metal watchband on Dad’s tan wrist, thinking that the white skin underneath reminded me of a fish belly. Just as I started to ask him to “make a muscle” so I could try pushing his flexed biceps down, a thought hit me like icy water from a garden hose: Dad had to pay for me.

While the story of my birth ranked as a bedtime favorite, I had never considered hospital bills, or the countless meals I’d eaten, or the price of summer clothes.

“Daddy,” I interrupted again, “how much did I cost?”

“Oh, let’s see.” He sighed in distraction and placed his watch on the safety of his dresser. “About a million dollars.”

A light went out inside me. A million dollars. Because of me, Dad worked two jobs. Because of me, he drove an old car, ate lunch at home and had his dress shoes resoled -- again.

With my eyes and chin down, I inched off the cedar chest and shuffled into the kitchen. From a shelf, I took my granny-shaped bank, which held every penny I owned -- seven dollars even. And not seven dollars in assorted change, but seven cool, shiny silver dollars, one for every birthday and one for the day I was born.

The bank’s rubber plug surrendered, and the coins poured into my hands. I had often played with these coins in secret, jostling them in a small drawstring bag in my roles as gypsy or runaway princess. They had always been put back in the bank, though, and I felt secure pleasure in just knowing they were there. But that day, the “clink” of returning each coin sounded hollow.

If the topic had changed when I returned to my parents’ bedroom, I didn’t notice. Tugging on Dad’s shirt, I held out my first payment on a million dollars.

“Here,” I sniffed. “Maybe this will help pay for me.”

“What?” Dad’s confused look matched my own. Didn’t he remember what he’d said? Didn’t the sight of me remind him of how much I cost?

My tear-filled eyes, which I couldn’t seem to take off the bank, finally made sense to him.

Dad knelt down and pulled me close. “You didn’t cost a million dollars, but you’re worth a million-million dollars. And if that’s what I’d have to pay for you, I’d do it. Now dry those eyes and put your bank away.”

Today, I often pull this memory out, turn it over and feel the warm satisfied weight of it in my heart. Back then, no price could be put on my worth to my dad. No price can be put on his worth to me now.

I Shot the Sheriff

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Resolution

After I made the illegal right turn, his motorcycle zoomed into my rearview mirror. Dang! I pulled to the curb and meekly handed over my license and registration. He strolled behind the car. Turning, I regarded him through the back window as he wrote the citation. His helmet gleamed in the sunlight, white against the red and yellow leaves of the liquidambar trees. I reached into my bag, my hand closing around the comforting, shiny black object I was never without. Raising it above the seat, I fixed the helmet in my sights. With a steady hand, I snapped the shutter.

I was fulfilling my 2004 New Year’s resolution; to take at least one photo each day. I’d made it this far, and I wasn’t going to abandon the project. The police officer was my photo for November 3rd.

I’d made the resolution on New Year’s Eve. My new digital camera was still in the box because I was resistant to learning its baffling terminology -- JPEG, CCD, TTL, TIFF. Yet I knew I needed to join the Digital Age. I resolved to create a visual record of the coming year. How hard could it be to grab a snapshot each day?

I began carrying my camera everywhere, looking for beautiful or intriguing subjects. Each evening I downloaded that day’s photos and designated one as the official “Photo of the Day.” I subscribed to a photo-sharing website and posted my daily images -- landscapes, still lifes, abstracts -- to my home page.

After a few weeks, I told family and friends about my resolution. They thought it was a little weird, but most of them posed willingly or didn’t get too mad if I caught them in a candid moment. I snapped photos of my friend Jean with her new Honda Element one day, operating her printing press another day. I captured my husband several times -- hiking, grilling steaks or reading the paper.

At first I was reluctant to approach strangers. No, make that terrified. But I wanted my collection to document the community as well as my own activities. One day in January, picketers were marching in front of the supermarket. When I grabbed the camera, it almost slid from my sweaty palms. I asked two workers to pose with their signs so that I could post their photo on my website. They exchanged an is-she-loony? look. My “Photo of the Day” explanation sounded lame even to me. Then one man said, “Okay, we’re doing this to get our message across. Fire away.”

It got easier each time. I took a picture of a Nordstrom saleswoman, a clerk at the Italian market, a knife-twirling chef at a Japanese restaurant. After a few months I started getting bossy: “Hold your saxophone like this,” I said to the jazz player, “and turn to the left.” But people didn’t seem to mind, because I tried to learn something about each one. The man in the botanical garden who was polishing a bench’s brass plaque said it was a memorial to his recently-deceased wife. The handsome couple running a Greek food stand at the Los Angeles County Fair told me they’d given up high-powered careers in order to pursue their dream of a nomadic life selling gyros and spanikopita.

Not everyone cooperated. One day at the dry cleaner’s, I asked the proprietress to pose by the moving clothes rack for a portrait. “Oh, no!” she said, blushing. “Hair not good today!” I switched off the camera.

Another time I was zooming in on a blueberry tart at the bakery (the gum-chewing clerk had shrugged an “okay” when I’d asked permission) when the baker stormed out of the kitchen, toque aquiver and bushy eyebrows drawn together. “What are you doing?” he thundered. “We serve a unique product here!” I assured him I was not a spy from a rival bakery, but tucked my camera away nevertheless.

It was the only New Year’s resolution I ever kept. At the end of 2004, I had 366 photos on my website and printed in a book -- an indelible record of the year, and hard evidence that each day of our lives is unique. Photos of the Rosetta Stone in the British Museum and the towering monoliths of Stonehenge remind me of a trip to England. My nephew playing his senior percussion recital at Juilliard, a picnic overlooking the Grand Canyon, a smog-free day in downtown Los Angeles -- I’d probably remember those events even without the photos.
It’s the quiet domestic scenes I would have forgotten -- a kettle of French onion soup simmering on the stove, the redbud tree in bloom, a scattering of golden apricot leaves lying on a weathered bench. These photos, so mundane when I took them, have gained in value. They glow with a patina of nostalgia.

I have proof that nothing lasts. The orange grove where I picnicked with friends has since been plowed under for a housing development; the rusty motel sign on an Arizona back road was torn down soon after.

And family members look different today than they did arrayed on the front porch on Thanksgiving of 2004. The little boy coloring a starfish in one photo now wields a baseball bat instead of a purple crayon. The doll being clutched so lovingly by a little girl in another photo now sits neglected on a shelf. Life changes in such tiny twitches, you don’t even notice them.

By the end of the year, my camera had become an extension of my arm. I could change white balance, turn off the pop-up flash and increase ISO without even looking. I changed too. Over the course of twelve months I gradually became family archivist, photojournalist, fine art photographer and portrait artist. And cop “shooter.” I never imagined I would do such a thing, but when you’re desperate for a “Photo of the Day,” you take any opportunity life hands you.

Biblical Encounter

A new pastor moved into town and went out to visit his community. He came into a closed house, but it was obvious that someone was home. He knocked several times but no one answered. He took a card and wrote "Revelations 3:20" on the back. The next day he found the card on the offering plate, written below his message was "Genesis 3:10." He opened the Bible and let out a roar of laughter.

A Close Up Shot

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Empty Nesters

I plopped in my easy chair after lugging the last piece of equipment back to storage. It had been a grueling day -- another day of chasing a bride. That’s what we call it in the photography business. You play tag with the bride as she flits from the make-up table to hugs; from flowers to dresses; from the aisle to the cake; from reception to a limo.

All while you try to capture memorable photos.

It is demanding physically and emotionally. Months of detailed planning and preparation precede each wedding and everyone’s feelings float warily on the surface. For many, weddings mile-mark the beginning of an empty nest. Someone’s son and someone’s daughter are leaving home and parents behind in anticipation of forging a future and a home of their own. Because it’s the event of a lifetime, everything must be perfect. After all, there are no second chances for the photography -- it must be done right. And it must be done right the first time.

Everyone seems to know of a sad photographic experience at a wedding. That is why I triple check everything, have backup equipment, and force myself to keep a level head. My clients and even my wife compliment me on my ability to go with the flow and not get stressed during these highly stressful occasions.

Satisfied with the day’s results, I balked at the thought of the next bride, surprised to acknowledge that, after thirty years of honing my craft, I felt insecure.

This sitting would be tougher than most. It was a bridal portrait and the final image would be large and displayed on an easel at the wedding reception. Mothers-of-the-brides are infamous for their demanding reputations, distress over letting go of their daughters, and angst at the thought of the holes left in their lives. This particular MOB carried the added burden of being a relative.

Yes, a relative. They are always the most difficult. Relatives expect more. They expect perfect work. And they expect perfect work for free. Many photographers refuse to photograph family events. But I am a pro and pride myself on keeping all those tensions in check. Once I commit there’s no turning back.

Shouldering the responsibility, I load my car and drive to the site the bride chose. A glance upward confirms a cooperative sky as I hunch to inspect the gear packed into my trunk. I load film first -- sure don't want to make that simple mistake. Then I double-check the lighting systems, set up the tripod, and make test shots. All is well; all is calm. And I’m ready just as the bride arrives.

She looks so young. Too young to get married. “Are you sure you’re old enough to be legal?” I deadpan.

She looks startled, then grins. “Almost twenty-two,” she insists. “Legal and beyond!”

My brows shoot up and I shake my head doubtfully.

“Don’t you feel some guilt for leaving your parents?”

She shakes her head and giggles.

She’s giddy -- just like all the rest. She’s in wispy white -- just like all the rest. She’s accompanied by her faithful entourage -- just like all the rest. It’s her final picture as daughter, her first as a bride. And I can see by the expression on her face that she’s ready to grasp the kite-tail of her dreams and fly into her future.

I am fully prepared to make a beautiful portrait. I know the procedure so well -- place her feet just so, shift her weight, angle her shoulders, tilt her head, position her hand into graceful “Barbie doll fingers”… and then be ready for the perfect expression she and this picky MOB hope for.

Both of them have planned this image all their lives. They’re expecting that Cinderella look-and-feel they always envisioned. Well, this bride is drop-dead gorgeous. I nod in approval. It’s going to be a piece of cake.

I bend my head to look through the viewfinder. Something is dreadfully wrong with this picture. It’s out of focus. The bride looks odd, she looks too… young. I check the settings and try again. Now the bride is fuzzy.

“What’s going on?” I mutter.

Once more, I examine the camera. All is in order.

No, wait. The lens is fogged.

My heart flutters and I steady myself. Yet, no matter how hard I try to call on my years of professional training, I can’t seem to make this picture clear. A jagged breath catches in my throat and I suddenly understand the problem.

With a rueful sigh, I turn away and swipe roughly at the mist of tears blurring my optics. No pro worth his salt would let them be discovered.

I corral my emotions. “Turn a little. And, lean in,” I hear myself say in a surprisingly normal tone. “Now, a sweet smile, Sweetie,” I swallow hard. “A special smile just for your old… er… for your groom.” I force myself to separate my personal feelings from the image in the lens. “That’s it. That’s it. Yes… wow!"

Click.

Click, click, click.

I clear my throat and manage a broad beam in spite of myself. “What a beautiful, blushing bride.”

Another daughter leaving the nest to find her future. I shake my head ruefully. My daughter. This daddy’s little girl.

To the Guy Doing My Wife

A friend of mine was browsing through Craigslist (it's like Buy and Sell classifieds) and found this funny entry. He wasn't actually selling or buying anything but a bonafide classified ad nonetheless...

To the guy doing my wife. You know who you are. Yes I know. No I am not angry, I would just ask a few things of you. After all you are giving it to my wife.

1.Please stop leaving the seat up, I keep getting blamed and it is starting to get old.

2.You may be giving me a chance to go fishing more often but please stop drinking all my beer. It is fine if you have a couple while you visit(God knows I drink plenty before I find her attractive), but please leave me a few as I have to be there longer than you.

3.If you do drink the last one, buy more or leave money on the counter; I will pick some up.

4.Please replace the toilet paper when you use it all. For some reason my 5 year old son believes if its not there he does not have to wipe. We keep it under the sink, unless you can recommend a better spot?

5.After doing my wife please use something disposable to wipe off with. The basket of clothes on the right is mine and the clothes are clean as my wife does not do my washing, I run out of time rushing to work. Last week my sweatshirt was crusty (thanks).

6.Please do not tell my children that you are their uncle, they are young not mentally challenged.

7.Please stop turning the heat up, you pay nothing and MUD is putting it in my ass, my wife may like it but I think it hurts.

8.When she asks "do these pants make me look fat", say no. You may think giving a different answer will make her think twice about eating a gallon of ice cream a day but all you are doing is giving her a reason to go buy more pants that she will look just as fat in.

9.Stop eating the baked goods. The brownies you ate were from my mom for my birthday. My wife has not cooked anything that good for years and if she does she will not share.

10.Try shifting your weight when you sit on my chair. The recliner that I rarely have time for (soccer games and practice, basketball camp for the kids takes much of my time and I try to help with school work too) has a grove in it that forces me to roll to the left.

Lastly I would like thank you for taking her to lunch on Valentines Day. She was not as hungry as usual and only ordered one meal. I may be able to use the money I saved to take the children to a movie. I hope you can help me with these items, it may become awkward if I have to confront her. If you can do this for me I will give you a heads up on when I will be gone and for how long so that you don't feel rushed.

P.S. I am going to take the kids to the Great Wolf Lodge on the 3rd of April for four days, I have a bottle of vodka above the fridge if you find yourself low on beer.

The Best Person for the Job

Resimay

To hoom it mae consern,

I wont to apply for the offiss job what I saw in the paper. I can Type real quik wit one finggar and do sum a counting.

I think I am good on the fone and no I am a pepole person, Pepole really seam to respond to me well. Certain men and all the ladies.

Im looking for a Job as a offiser but it musent be to complicaited.

I no my spelling is not to good but find that I Offen can get a job thru my persinalety.
My salerery is open so we can discus wat you want to pay me and wat you think that I am werth, I can start imeditely. Thank you in advanse fore yore anser.

hopifuly Yore best aplicant so farr.

Sinseerly,

BRYAN nikname Beefy

PS : Because my resimay is a bit short - below is a pickture of me.





Employer's response:

Dear Bryan,

It's OK sweety, we've got spell check. When can you start?