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L Posts: 5656 Joined: 10th Jun 2004 Location: UK | quotePosted at 21:38 on 28th September 2008 I thought i'd start this thread up so we can put some of our favourite links up, I just found this one and I think it's a beautiful song, bought tears to my eyes. Reminded me of my parents, they didn't have Alzheimer's but they both had Dementia and passed away within months of each other. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=9KDpAObuQow&feature=related |
Posts: Joined: 1st Jan 1970 | That's a lovely song, Lyn. Felt my eyes filling a bit too! My mum had a little dementia but dad had all his faculties. When mum died he seemed to shrink before our eyes, and died just three months later. |
Diana Sinclair Posts: 10119 Joined: 3rd Apr 2008 Location: USA | quotePosted at 00:10 on 29th September 2008 That is a lovely song Lyn. I too got a bit weepy! |
Ruth Gregory Posts: 8072 Joined: 25th Jul 2007 Location: USA | quotePosted at 00:19 on 29th September 2008 Beautiful, Lyn. I had never heard of Charlie before. Thanks for the link you emailed me too. This isn't a video link, but an email that I got about a year ago and hung onto, and only came across today as I was cleaning out some old ones. I think it kind of fits nicely here: THE OLD PHONE When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time. My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information. " "I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question. "Nobody's home but me," I blubbered. "Are you bleeding?" the voice asked. "No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." "Can you open the icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice. After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Wayne always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better. Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please." "Information, " said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I asked. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy. A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, "Information Please." Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. "Information. " I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?" There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now." I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?" I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls." I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. "Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally." Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered "Information. " I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said. "Yes, a very old friend," I answered. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?" "Yes." I answered. "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean." I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today? Lifting you on eagle's wings. May you find the joy and peace you long for. Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour. So don't miss the ride and have a great time going around you don't get a second shot at it. I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and get a blessing from it just as I did
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| Wolf Posts: 3423 Joined: 9th Jul 2008 Location: Australia | quotePosted at 01:12 on 29th September 2008 Now why should that story create moisture in my eyes Ruth ? |
| Ruth Gregory Posts: 8072 Joined: 25th Jul 2007 Location: USA | quotePosted at 01:27 on 29th September 2008 Cuz you're an old softie, Wolf. XOXO
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| Diana Sinclair Posts: 10119 Joined: 3rd Apr 2008 Location: USA | quotePosted at 02:20 on 29th September 2008 I feel like God is talking to me today in very many ways and this is one more Ruth. Thank you!  |
Cathy E. Posts: 8474 Joined: 15th Aug 2008 Location: USA | quotePosted at 02:41 on 29th September 2008 Ruth, that is beautiful, sniff sniff wipe wipe! Thank you for sharing!   |
| Cathy E. Posts: 8474 Joined: 15th Aug 2008 Location: USA | quotePosted at 02:43 on 29th September 2008 On 28th September 2008 21:38, Lyn Greenaway wrote:
great song Lyn, thanks for sharing it. Thank goodness my father still knows who I am. I dread the day he forgets! I love him so much! |
| Wolf Posts: 3423 Joined: 9th Jul 2008 Location: Australia | quotePosted at 05:49 on 29th September 2008 How many of you went to a school like this ? |
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