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Don't panic: I haven't taken up writing - I got this in an email this morning.
*****
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
Epilogue
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy.
"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."
*****
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
Epilogue
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy.
"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."
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Sorry - I'm the feeble one for not spotting it ...
Timmargh wrote:
> Really? Er, why?
PAST it on.
(A feeble pun)
> Really? Er, why?
PAST it on.
(A feeble pun)
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that
money can't buy.
money can't buy anything!
we buy it.
i don't understand what :
"If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy."
has to do with that story... but otherwise a good story.
money can't buy.
money can't buy anything!
we buy it.
i don't understand what :
"If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy."
has to do with that story... but otherwise a good story.
Why humour?
You don't have to be spontaneous in a story, that's the beauty of it.
You don't have to be spontaneous in a story, that's the beauty of it.
Ju§t Tinkª wrote:
> Why amusing?
*****
Because I'm only any good at a few things and humour is the only one that would be useful in a story.
I've tried writing stuff but have been told by many people that, whilst I'm funny when being spontaneous (e.g. conversational stuff), I am anything but when I try writing it down.
> Why amusing?
*****
Because I'm only any good at a few things and humour is the only one that would be useful in a story.
I've tried writing stuff but have been told by many people that, whilst I'm funny when being spontaneous (e.g. conversational stuff), I am anything but when I try writing it down.
I liked that story, very nice :-)
it's a nice story
*wipes tear*
*wipes tear*
Why amusing?
Make like Nike and Just do it
....
*Runs*
Make like Nike and Just do it
....
*Runs*
I have. I tried writing something amusing and it became painfully obvious that it was less than adequate.
Well if you haven't even tried....
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