By the time you read this today, Nancy and the Boys, my brothers
and my family will be sitting down to share Thanksgiving Dinner.
We want to thank you for joining us over the past year in thought and
Prayer. Together we have the strength to carry on no matter what the
Lord has in store for us.

Buffalo and Nancy

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A Thankswgiving Poem From NDich@...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lynn,
When I was teaching, I taught my children about
acrostic poetry. I wrote an acrostic poem for my friend's birthday and
put graphics in the poem for her. She really liked it.
I'm writing this poem for Thanksgiving.
Hopefully, you will ilke my acrostic poem. I really worked hard on
this
poem. T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G

By Nan :-)

T is for being thankful for so many things in my life.

H is for the happy thoughts that carry me through each day.

A is for living in the United States of America with all the freedoms
that we have.

N is for the new friends and old friends that I'm fortunate to have.

K is for the kindnesses that I do for others and that others do for
me.

S is for sharing ideas and good times with my friends.

G is for the great Mom and Dad whom I was fortunate to have had in my
life.

I is for the interesting places that I have traveled to on my many
trips.

V is for the freedom to be able to voice my thoughts in a democratic
country.

I is for the ideals that I has taught when I was growing up and that I
still have.

N is for the new knowledge that I gain each day.

G is for goodness that I find in the people whom I meet.

Happy Thanksgiving
Nan :-)


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THE FOLDED NAPKIN
A Truckers Story

(If this doesn't light your fire .... your wood is wet!!!)

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His
placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable
busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and
wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react
to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial
features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried
about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally
care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the
pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who
concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie
snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for
fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ" the pairs of white-
shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop
waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be
uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first
few weeks. I shouldn't have worried.

After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby
little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him
as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't
care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-
year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please,
but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper
shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill
was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was
persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers
were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight
from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table
was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus
dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up
with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was
watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took
pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he
tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was
disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their
Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck
stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so
often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight,
and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being
able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.

That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last
August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He
was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something
put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs
Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't
unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the
surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple
of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came
that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie,
the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the
aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular
trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old
grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie
blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We
just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be
okay." "I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him.
What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and
the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery,
then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said. "But I
don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From
what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Belle Ringer nodded
thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her
tables.

Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and
really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own
tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush,
Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in
her hand and a funny look on her face. "What's up?" I asked. "I
didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting
cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were
sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was
folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me,
and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the
outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For
Stevie". "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so
I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked
at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this."
She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie"
scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.
Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said
simply: "truckers."

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day
Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said
he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and
it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in
the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had
forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his
mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and
invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie was thinner and
paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and
headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were
waiting. "Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him
and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To
celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on
me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we
marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw
booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession.
We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with
coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked
on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do,
Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of
the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As
he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at
the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the
tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to
his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that
table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your
problems. "Happy Thanksgiving,".

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering
and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know
what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging
each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy
clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever
hired. Plant a seed and watch it grow. At this point, you can bury
this inspirational message or forward it fulfilling the need! If you
shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person.

Well.. Don't just sit there! Send this story on! Keep it going, this
is a good one!

Let The River Flow Through You!
*********************************************
Author unknown to me.

Bill Walker




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A beautifully written Thanksgiving Prayer by Betty Jo Mings...

http://mjbreck.com/thanksgivingblessings1105.html

I wish you a Wonderful Thanksgiving filled with God's Richest
Blessings...

Love 'n Hugs,
Janie



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MAN SAVES PUPPY -- PUPPY SAVES MAN
Independent Journal Nevada, California
November 1, 2005

Michael Bosch waited more than a year for a cocker spaniel
puppy
to become available for adoption.
It was well worth the wait.
His new puppy, Honey, might have saved his life yesterday by
bringing a neighbor to the Nicasio ravine where Bosch was trapped
inside his overturned vehicle for eight hours.
"I don't know how anyone would've found me there," Bosch, 63,
said in a phone interview last night from Santa Rosa Memorial
Hospital. "I was pinned in by a tree that went through the roof and
the dash and the steering wheel. I hung upside down from 11 o'clock
until 7 o'clock."
Bosch, a Coldwell Banker real estate broker, was leaving his
home off Nicasio Valley Road around 11am yesterday when his Toyota
4Runner went off the road and plunged 50 feet down an 80-degree
embankment, firefighters said. The car landed on its roof, throwing
Bosch to the ceiling of the vehicle and pinning his legs up behind
him.
But this was not known until nearly 6pm, when Bosch's neighbor,
Robin Allen, came home to find Honey acting strangely in the driveway.
"I saw her running around in our yard, and she came running up
to me," Allen said. "She was agitiated but friendly. She just
continued to act really frenetic, so I decided I better drive her
down (to Bosch's residence) since she was a puppy.
"And that was a good thing. I heard him calling, 'Help!'"
Police and firefighters arrived and found the wreckage down the
cliff.
"He was backing out of his driveway and just went a little too
far," said Sgt. Christine Rogers of the California Highway Patrol.
"It was pretty steep."
Rescuers spent about 40 minutes extricating Bosch from the
wreckage by cutting away pieces of the vehicle. Bosch was then taken
by ambulance to a field near Lucas Valley Road, where he was loaded
on a Sonoma County sheriff's helicopter and flown to Santa Rosa
Memorial Hospital.
Bosch, who was still being treated in the emergency unit late
last night, said he adopted Honey from the Marin Humane Society about
two weeks ago. He had waited for a year and a half for a cocker
spaniel to become available.
Honey was with Bosch when his vehicle went off the road. Bosch
said he was able to pry a window open and told the dog to go up to
the residence.
Bosch, who is still recovering from a heart attack in July,
only
had a few nitroglycerin pills with him in the car.
"The dog saved my life," he said. "I said go to the house, and
she went up to the other house and waited."

Heidi


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Hear The Music

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because
they
haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't
know it
was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who
passed up
dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From
then on,
I've tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband
didn't
suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed?
Does the
word "refrigeration" mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while
you
watched 'Jeopardy' on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, "How about
going to
lunch in a half hour?" She would gas up and stammer, "I can't. I have
clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday,
I had a
late breakfast, It looks like rain." And my personal favorite: "It's
Monday." She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule
our
headaches... We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to
ourselves when
all the conditions are perfect!

We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Stevie toilet-
trained.
We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a
second
honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter,
and
the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we
awaken, and
all we have to show for our lives is a litany of "I'm going to," "I
plan
on," and "Someday, when things are settled down a bit."

When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to
adventure and
available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her
enthusiasm for
life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're
ready to
trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator
for a
bungee cord.

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream.
It's just
that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula
and
eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and
bought
a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I
would have
died happy.

Now... go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to do... not
something on your 'SHOULD DO' list. If you were going to die soon and
had
only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would
you
say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to
the
rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic
flight or
gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day
on the
fly? When you ask "How are you?" Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred
chores
running through your head? Ever told your child, "We'll do it
tomorrow." And
in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good
friendship
die? Just call to say "Hi"?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened
gift...
Thrown away... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music
before the
song is over.


Christine

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Remember 9/11/01

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