Good Forwards (Emails)

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    A little girl walked to and from school daily.

    Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she

    made her daily trek to the elementary school.

    As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with lightning.

    The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her daughter would be

    frightened as she walked home from school and she feared the electrical

    storm might harm her child.

    Full of concern, the mother quickly

    got into her car and drove

    along the route to her child’s school.

    As she did, she saw her little girl walking along.

    At each flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up, and smile.

    Another and another flash of lighting followed quickly and with each, the little

    girl would look at the streak of light and smile.

    When the mother’s car drew up beside the child, she lowered the window and

    called to her ‘What are you doing?’

    The child answered,

    ‘I am trying to look pretty because God keeps taking my picture….’

    May God bless you today and everyday

    as you face the storms that come your way.

    Be Happy

    ABC to happiness


    Accept others for who they are and for the choices they’ve made even if you have difficulty understanding their beliefs, motives, or actions.

    B–Break Away

    Break away from everything that stands in the way of what you hope to accomplish with your life.


    Create a family of friends whom you can share your hopes, dreams, sorrows, and happiness with.


    Decide that you’ll be successful and happy come what may, and good things will find you. The roadblocks are only minor obstacles along the way.


    Explore and experiment. The world has much to offer, and you have much to give. And every time you try something new, you’ll learn more about yourself.


    Forgive and forget. Grudges only weigh you down and inspire unhappiness and grief. Soar above it, and remember that everyone makes mistakes.


    Leave the childhood monsters behind. They can no longer hurt you or stand in your way.


    Hope for the best and never forget that anything is possible as long as you remain dedicated to the task.


    Ignore the negative voice inside your head. Focus instead on your goals and remember your accomplishments. Your past success is only a small inkling of what the future holds.


    Journey to new worlds, new possibilities, by remaining open-minded. Try to learn something new every day, and you’ll grow.


    Know that no matter how bad things seem, they’ll always get better. The warmth of spring always follows the harshest winter.


    Let love fill your heart instead of hate. When hate is in your heart, there’s room for nothing else, but when love is in your heart, there’s room for endless happiness.


    Manage your time and your expenses wisely, and you’ll suffer less stress and worry. Then you’ll be able to focus on the important things in life.


    Never ignore the poor, infirm, helpless, weak, or suffering. Offer your assistance when possible, and always your kindness and understanding.


    Open your eyes and take in all the beauty around you. Even during the worst of times, there’s still much to be thankful for.


    Never forget to have fun along the way. Success means nothing without happiness.


    Ask many questions, because you’re here to learn.


    Refuse to let worry and stress rule your life, and remember that things always have a way of working out in the end.


    Share your talent, skills, knowledge, and time with others. Everything that you invest in others will return to you many times over.


    Even when your dreams seem impossible to reach, try anyway. You’ll be amazed by what you can accomplish.


    Use your gifts to your best ability. Talent that’s wasted has no value. Talent that’s used will bring unexpected rewards.


    Value the friends and family members who’ve supported and encouraged you, and be there for them as well.


    Work hard every day to be the best person you can be, but never feel guilty if you fall short of your goals. Every sunrise offers a second chance.


    Look deep inside the hearts of those around you and you’ll see the goodness and beauty within.


    Yield to commitment. If you stay on track and remain dedicated, you’ll find success at the end of the road.


    Zoom to a happy place when bad memories or sorrow rears its ugly head. Let nothing interfere with your goals. Instead, focus on your abilities, your dreams, and a brighter tomorrow.


    Wow, esther! Really nice!

    An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before,

    but had once failed an entire class.

    That class had insisted that Obama’s socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.

    The professor then said, “OK,

    we will have an experiment in this class on Obama’s plan”.

    All grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade so no one would fail and no one would receive an A.

    After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B.

    The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy.

    As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little.

    The second test average was a D!

    No one was happy.

    When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.

    The scores never increased as bickering,

    blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else.

    All failed, to their great surprise, and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.

    Could not be any simpler than that.

    Be Happy

    AAADD – KNOW THE SYMPTOMS….. (translated from American English)

    Thank goodness there’s now a name for this disorder!

    The recently described condition AAADD – Age Activated Attention Deficit

    Disorder manifested itself today in this way:

    I decide to water my garden.

    As I turn on the hose in the driveway, I look over at my car and decide it

    needs washing.

    As I go to the garage to collect the washing gear, I notice letters on the

    hall table that I picked up from by the front door earlier.

    I decide to go through the letters before I wash the car.

    I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the waste bin under

    the table, and notice that the bin is full.

    So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and empty the bin first.

    I find the bin is full as the rubbish wasn’t collected yesterday and decide

    that I will take all my rubbish to the tip myself.

    But then I think, since I’m going to be near the Post Office when I take

    rubbish to the tip, I may as well pay the bills first and put them in the


    I pick up my cheque book, and see that there is only one cheque left.

    My new cheque book are in my desk in the study, so I go up stairs to my

    desk where I find the can of Coke I’d been drinking.

    I’m going to look for my cheque book, but first I need to push the Coke

    aside so that I don’t accidentally knock it over.

    The Coke is getting warm, and I decide to put it in the refrigerator to

    keep it cold.

    As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on window

    ledge catches my eye because they need water.

    I put the Coke on the window ledge and discover my reading glasses that I’d

    been searching for all morning.

    I decide I should put them back on my desk, but first I’ll water the


    I put the glasses back down on the window ledge, go to the kitchen, fill a

    container with water and spot the TV remote.

    Someone left it on the kitchen table.

    I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I’ll be looking for the

    remote, but I won’t remember that it’s on the kitchen table, so I decide to

    put it back where it belongs, but first I’ll water the flowers.

    I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor.

    So, I put the remote back on the table, get some towels and wipe up the


    Then, I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

    At the end of the day:

    the car isn’t washed

    the bills aren’t paid

    there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the window ledge

    the flowers don’t have enough water

    there is still only one cheque in my cheque book

    I can’t find the remote

    I can’t find my glasses and

    I don’t remember what I did with the car keys.

    When I try to work out why nothing was done today, I’m really baffled

    because I know I was busy all day, and I’m really tired.

    I realize this is a serious problem, and I’ll try to get some help for it, but first I need to

    check my e-mail

    Oh dear!

    Please do me a favour.

    Forward this message to everyone you and I know, because I don’t remember

    who else I’ve sent it to.

    Don’t laugh — if this isn’t you yet, your day is coming!

    Makes a change from boring ADD!


    mepal, I like the lightening one!

    estherh, the second one is great!


    Be Happy

    An Obstacle in Our Path

    By Author Unknown

    In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock.

    Some of the king’s wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded.

    After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse laying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway.

    The peasant learned what many of us never understand.

    Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

    Be Happy

    “An Open Letter To My Neighbour in Shul”

    My Dear Chaver,

    Please excuse me for not signing this letter. Were I to do so, everyone in shul would know that this letter is being written to you, and I do not want to cause you public disgrace.

    I have known you for many years and I value our relationship. Hopefully, you feel the same towards me. Your commitment to Limud Torah and your unrestrained gemilas chesed are truly enviable. In fact, I had even hoped that by sitting next to you in shul some of your midos would rub off on me.

    But one thing that disturbs me greatly is your talking during davening. At first, it was barely more than a word or two to amplify a facial expression. But now, you begin conversation almost as soon as you come into shul.

    I am not calling this to your attention, now, to give you tochacha (reproof). Certainly, my own slate is not nearly clean enough to make a reckoning for you. But I just want to let you know how your talking in shul is affecting me.

    First and foremost is Shmoneh Esrei. You probably assume that I am very well off financially, and in other ways, too. But I have some very pressing personal problems, which even my best friends know nothing about. Now, considering my pekle, I don’t stand Shmoneh Esrei nearly as long as I should, but somehow you always seem to finish ahead of me. I realize that you are trying to talk quietly, but since you’re standing right next to me, it disrupts my entire kavonah (concentration). Sometimes, I get so angry with you that I feel like blurting out in the middle of my Shmoneh Esrei, “Why don’t you just go outside to talk? I can’t walk out now; but you can!” And who knows if my tefillos are not being answered because of inadequate kavonah? Of course, I am not blaming you for my tzoris, but since Shmoneh Esrei is my chance to plead for some mercy, I would appreciate it if you would conduct the conversation outside, and then come in for Kedusha.

    Next is Chazoras Hashatz, when the chazan repeats the Shmoneh Esrei. Even though I am aware of the bountiful reward to be earned with each omein, I am, unfortunately, far too lax in responding properly. Nevertheless, when I hardly hear the chazan above your schmoozing, I end up losing out on even more omein opportunities.

    Now, you might argue and say that you are talking to the man on the other side and not with me. yes, that is true. But I also have an inclination to schmooze in shul. When I see you practically smacking your lips over a delicious interchange, I am tempted to join you. Sometimes, I tell myself that I will only listen to your conversation. Than I find myself an accomplice, by encouraging you with my interest. At other times, however, I even find myself sucked into actively participating in the conversation, which I had promised myself only to overhear.

    The krias haTorah is difficult enough to follow, with the inevitable noise of foot shuffling, coughing, and (in the summer) air conditioner blowing. But when that combines with your conversation, I go home each Shabbos wondering whether or not I have been yotzei krias haTorah.

    Finally, I must say that our shul is a very special one. We have some excellent shiurim, a highly respected Rabbi, and a minyan full of bnei Torah. In general, there is a fairly good decorum in our shul, compared with many others. So I suppose I could just change my seat. But at this point, it would be too awkward to explain without embarrassing you or myself.

    Our shul, in many ways, is truly a mikdash me’at – a sanctuary in miniature. But whenever I am about to reach the full appreciation of that, especially on Shabbos, your talking cools me off.

    The other day, you asked me why I don’t bring my five year old son to shul more often. I told you that he’s still too young. Now I’ll tell you the real reason. He still feels kedushas beis hamedrash – the sanctity of the place – when he walks in. Even after davening, he whispers in shul. If I bring him every week and sit him down between us, I am frankly afraid of your example. How can he retain his reverence for shul if he observes your behaviour? Each Shabbos he begs me to take him along and I’m running out of excuses.

    You don’t owe me any respect. And you may feel that my kavonah does not take precedence to you socializing. But think of our children in shul. What will become of their davening? I see you are already having trouble controlling some of your children in shul. Whenever you are not schmoozing with a friend, you are reprimanding your children. Yes, their conduct is reprehensible, at times; but where do you think they learned to be callous towards kedushas beis hamedrash?

    In writing this letter, I have tried to avoid giving away my own identity or that of our shul. If others read this letter, however, they may waste time trying to figure out whom this letter was meant for. But you know. Wishing you and your family all the best.

    Name and City Withheld by request


    esther, thank you for all your contributions to this thread! They’re great! Keep them coming!


    estherh, you’re making me very happy I started this thread! (and that was a compliment 😉 )



    Oh you did, kapusta? Thank YOU!


    kapusta: compliments go in the other thread! 😉


    mepal, I would give you a compliment on what a nice thank you that was, but I wouldn’t want Jax to get upset. 😉



    I see someones trying to be diplomatic 😉

    Be Happy


    The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day we cannot change our past we cannot change the fact that people will act in certain way we cannot change inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on one string we have and that is out attitude.

    The Cleaning Lady

    During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one:

    “What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?” Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. “Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say ‘Hello’.”

    I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.


    One day a father and his rich family took his young son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose to show him how poor people can be. They spent a day and a night in the farm of a very poor family. When they got back from their trip the father asked his son, “How was the trip?” Very good, Dad!” “Did you see how poor people can be?” the father asked. “Yeah!” “And what did you learn?”

    The son answered, “I saw that we have a dog at home, and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of the garden; they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lamps in the garden, they have the stars. Our patio reaches to the front yard, they have a whole horizon. When the little boy was finishing, his father was speechless.

    His son added, “Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are!” Isn’t it true that it all depends on the way you look at things? If you have love, friends, family, health, good humour and a positive attitude toward life, you’ve got everything!

    You can’t buy any of these things. You can have all the material possessions you can imagine, provisions for the future, etc., but if you are poor of spirit, you have nothing!

    A Little Boys Temper

    There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.

    The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

    The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said “you have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one.”

    You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound is still there.

    Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted to say something you will regret later.

    Author Unknown


    Wow, Esther! The temper one’s amazing!


    I think this one is really amazing. It comes to show that you just gotta open your eyes and see…

    It’s been said that God first separated the salt water from the fresh, made dry land, planted a garden, made animals and fish… All before making a human. He made and provided what we’d need before we were born.

    God left us a great clue as to what foods help what part of our body!

    God’s Pharmacy! Amazing!

    A sliced Carrot looks like the human eye. The pupil, iris and radiating lines look just like the human eye… And YES, science now shows carrots greatly enhance blood flow to and function of the eyes.

    A Tomato has four chambers and is red. The heart has four chambers and is red. All of the researches shows tomatoes are loaded with lycopine and are indeed pure heart and blood food.

    Grapes hang in a cluster that has the shape of the heart. Each grape looks like a blood cell and all of the research today shows grapes are also profound heart and blood vitalizing food.

    A Walnut looks like a little brain, a left and right hemisphere, upper cerebrums and lower cerebellums. Even the wrinkles or folds on the nut are just like the neo-cortex. We now know walnuts help develop more than three (3) dozen neuron-transmitters for brain function.

    Kidney Beans actually heal and help maintain kidney function and yes, they look exactly like the human kidneys.

    Celery, Bok Choy, Rhubarb and many more look just like bones. These foods specifically target bone strength. Bones are 23% sodium and these foods are 23% sodium. If you don’t have enough sodium in your diet, the body pulls it from the bones, thus making them weak. These foods replenish the skeletal needs of the body.

    Sweet Potatoes look like the pancreas and actually balance the glycemic index of diabetics.

    Onions look like the body’s cells. Today’s research shows onions help clear waste materials from all of the body cells. They even produce tears which wash the epithelial layers of the eyes. A working companion, Garlic, also helps eliminate waste materials and dangerous free radicals from the body.

    I’m sorry to have edited this fascinating post, but you must understand that there are some concepts and terms that, although there is nothing inherently wrong with them, are not appropriate for a frum website…80


    working, wow! That’s awesome!


    80, thanks for keeping this site ‘kosher’!


    Read til the end please

    It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and

    then — just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to

    another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to

    think alone — “to relax,” I told myself — but I knew it wasn’t true.

    Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was

    thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One

    evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of

    life. She spent that night at her mother’s. I began to think on the

    job. I knew that thinking and employment don’t mix, but I couldn’t

    stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read

    Thoreau and Kafka .. I would return to the office dizzied and

    confused, asking, “What is it exactly we are doing here?”

    One day the boss called me in. He said, “Listen, I like you, and it

    hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If

    you don’t stop thinking on the job, you’ll have to find another job.”

    This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my

    versation with the boss. “Honey,” I confess, “I’ve been thinking…”

    “I know you’ve been thinking,” she said, “and I want a divorce!”

    “But Honey, surely it’s not that serious.”

    “It is serious,” she said, lower lip aquiver. “You think as much as

    college professors and college professors don’t make any money, so if

    you keep on thinking, we won’t have any money!”

    “That’s a faulty syllogism,” I said impatiently.

    She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to

    deal with the emotional drama. “I’m going to the library,” I snarled

    as I stomped out the door.

    I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared

    into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass

    doors. They didn’t open. The library was closed. To this day, I

    believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. Leaning

    on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my

    eye, “Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?” it asked.

    You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers

    Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering


    I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational

    video. Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since

    the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at

    home. Life just seemed…easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped

    thinking. I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me.

    Today I made the final step. I registered to vote as a Democrat.



    that last one about the thinker was hysterical!!


    Hey nurse! Nice seeing ya! Take it to General Shmooz, k?

    Be Happy

    God’s cake

    Sometimes we wonder, “What did I do to deserve this?” or “Why did God have to do this to me?” Here is a wonderful explanation!

    A daughter is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong, she’s failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.

    Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, “Absolutely Mom, I love your cake.”

    “Here, have some cooking oil,” her Mother offers.

    “Yuck” says her daughter.

    “How about a couple raw eggs?”

    “Gross, Mom!”

    “Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?”

    “Mom, those are all yucky!”

    To which the mother replies: “Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!

    God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things

    all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

    God sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, He’ll listen. He can live anywhere, and He chose your heart.


    Working, I have seen this piece before, and it is indeed AMAZING.


    jphone, lol, that was really good! I always new Mr. Obama could help solve all our problems. He was just waiting for the opportune “time”…


    My parents told me about Mr. Common Sense early in my life and told me I would do well to call on him when making decisions. It seems he was always around in my early years but less and less as time passed my until today I read his obituary. Please join me in a moment of silence in remembrance. For Common Sense had served us all so well for so many generations.


    Common Sense

    Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

    He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn’t always fair, and maybe it was my fault.

    Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children are in charge).

    His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

    Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student.

    Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became

    contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you

    couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.

    Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to

    realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap,

    and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

    Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to

    Blame, and I’m a Victim.

    Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

    Author unknown


    jphone: brilliant one there! 😉


    Washington, DC

    Metro Station

    January 2007

    The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes.

    During that time approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

    After three minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing.

    He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

    four minutes later:

    The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

    six minutes:

    A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

    Ten minutes:

    A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly.. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

    45 minutes:

    The musician played continuously.

    Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace.

    The man collected a total of $32.

    one hour:

    He finished playing and silence took over.

    No one noticed.

    No one applauded

    nor was there any recognition.

    No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written,

    with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.

    Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

    This is a true story.

    Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.

    The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

    Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context? Are we quick to judge? To stereotype?

    One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

    If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world,

    playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made……

    How many other things are we missing?


    $32 for 45 minutes is > $42.50/hour. That is over $85,000 a year. (40 hours/week; no benefits.) Not too bad a salary. (Nobody knew or paid him for who he was.)


    Don’t know if this one was posted before, so if it was, sorry. It’s long but it’s good!

    Yes it was posted not long ago. But I think we can post it again…80


    A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved a new one arose. Her mother took her to the kitchen.

    She filled three pots with water.

    In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs and the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

    Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me, what do you see?”

    “Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.

    She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.

    Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma.

    The daughter then asked. “What’s the point, mother?”

    Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity–boiling water–but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

    The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.

    “Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”

    Think of this: Which am I?

    Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a spirit and a hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when

    things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate to another level?

    How do you handle adversity?



    Thanks, 80

    the original thread started by ames is HERE. YW Moderator-72

    Be Happy

    Show Someone You Care

    I was sitting at the bar of a local restaurant having lunch and taking a break from the daily grind, sitting there thinking about how tough I had it lately and how I was sick of what I was doing. I own a landscape company and never felt I made a difference in people’s lives.

    As I sat there feeling sorry for myself, a pretty girl who looked about 25 walked in and sat down in a booth waiting for her friend. It didn’t take long before I saw she was trying to stay hidden in a way from other people’s gazes and my heart sank. You could see her hair was falling out and, at such a young age, she was receiving chemo.

    I sat there watching her trying to remain composed and she was having a tough time of it. I ached for her, imagining what it must be like to go through this and yet I know some of her pain.

    You see I buried my wife, the love of my life just a few short years ago and watched her slowly fade away. I needed to get a message of hope to this girl but how? What could I do?

    Then it hit me! I called over her waitress and explained that I wanted to buy the girl and her friend’s lunch but I also told her you can’t tell her it was me, it had to remain anonymous. In doing so, I handed her a note to give to the girl when she told her that her tab was paid.

    The note read as follows:

    ‘Someone today thought you were beautiful, someone today thought your smile glowed with excitement, someone today thought your eyes lit up the world, someone today cared and wanted you to know this. Enjoy the rest of your day, pretty young lady’.

    About 15 minutes later the young girl asked for her check and I watched as she was told it was paid for. She asked why? Who? What for? The waitress simply handed her the note and informed her that the gentleman who did it left, as to keep me anonymous.

    I watched as she slowly read the note. Her eyes teared up, for only a moment, and then came the smile! A huge, beautiful, hopeful smile! She lit up the room and then sat up straight, not caring who saw her. Her friend also beamed, not for what was done but because her friend was feeling beautiful again.

    It’s not how we look or what we have, it’s not our houses or how many cars we have, nor is it how much money we can earn. No, it isn’t. You see it’s all about how much we care and what we do, even if it’s making someone feel pretty only for a moment.

    Yes, lunch cost only a few dollars but you see the wonderful part, the magic was free.

    Make a difference today in just one life; it’s free

    Be Happy

    The I Can’t Funeral

    By: Author Unknown

    Donna’s fourth grade classroom looked like many others I had seen in the past. The teacher’s desk was in front and faced the students. The bulletin board featured student work. In most respects it appeared to be a typically traditional elementary classroom. Yet something seemed different that day I entered it for the first time.

    My job was to make classroom visitations and encourage implementation of a training program that focused on language arts ideas that would empower students to feel good about themselves and take charge of their lives. Donna was one of the volunteer teachers who participated in this project.

    I took an empty seat in the back of the room and watched. All the students were working on a task, filling a sheet of notebook paper with thoughts and ideas. The ten-year-old student next to me was filling her page with “I Can’ts”. “I can’t kick the soccer ball past second base.” “I can’t do long division with more than three numerals.” “I can’t get Debbie to like me.” Her page was half full and she showed no signs of letting up. She worked on with determination and persistence. I walked down the row glancing at students’ papers. Everyone was writing sentences, describing things they couldn’t do.

    By this time the activity engaged my curiosity, so I decided to check with the teacher to see what was going on but I noticed she too was busy writing. I felt it best not to interrupt. “I can’t get John’s mother to come for a teacher conference.” “I can’t get my daughter to put gas in the car.” “I can’t get Alan to use words instead of fists.”

    Thwarted in my efforts to determine why students and teacher were dwelling on the negative instead of writing the more positive “I Can” statements, I returned to my seat and continued my observations.

    Students wrote for another ten minutes. They were then instructed to fold the papers in half and bring them to the front. They placed their “I Can’t” statements into an empty shoe box. Then Donna added hers. She put the lid on the box, tucked it under her arm and headed out the door and down the hall.

    Students followed the teacher. I followed the students. Halfway down the hallway Donna entered the custodian’s room, rummaged around and came out with a shovel. Shovel in one hand, shoe box in the other, Donna marched the students out to the school to the farthest corner of the playground. There they began to dig. They were going to bury their “I Can’ts”!

    The digging took over ten minutes because most of the fourth graders wanted a turn. The box of “I Can’ts” was placed in a position at the bottom of the hole and then quickly covered with dirt. Thirty-one 10 and 11 year-olds stood around the freshly dug grave site. At this point Donna announced, “Boys and girls, please join hands and bow your heads.” They quickly formed a circle around the grave, creating a bond with their hands.

    They lowered their heads and waited. Donna delivered the eulogy.

    “Friends, we gathered here today to honour the memory of ‘I Can’t.’ While he was with us here on earth, he touched the lives or everyone, some more than others. We have provided ‘I Can’t’ with a final resting place and a headstone that contains his epitaph. His is survived by his brothers and sisters, ‘I Can’, ‘I Will’, and ‘I’m Going to Right Away’. They are not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful yet. Perhaps some day, with your help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world. May ‘I Can’t’ rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen.”

    As I listened I realized that these students would never forget this day. Writing “I Can’ts”, burying them and hearing the eulogy. That was a major effort on this part of the teacher. And she wasn’t done yet.

    She turned the students around, marched them back into the classroom and held a wake. They celebrated the passing of “I Can’t” with cookies, popcorn and fruit juices. As part of the celebration, Donna cut a large tombstone from butcher paper. She wrote the words “I Can’t” at the top and put RIP in the middle. The date was added at the bottom. The paper tombstone hung in Donna’s classroom for the remainder of the year.

    On those rare occasions when a student forgot and said, “I Can’t”, Donna simply pointed to the RIP sign. The student then remembered that “I Can’t” was dead and chose to rephrase the statement. I wasn’t one of Donna’s students. She was one of mine. Yet that day I learned an enduring lesson from her as years later, I still envision that fourth grade class laying to rest, “I Can’t”.



    Wonderful stories estherh.



    estherh- that’s one of my favorite!

    mod72- funnily enough, I was considering opening a new thread to paste that into 😉


    myshadow ur stuff is great how can i get those pics and other stuff???



    As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. & Mr. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

    Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

    Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”

    “Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.”

    “Then give me your pearls.”

    “Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my very favorite.”

    “That’s okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

    About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”

    “Daddy, you know I love you.”

    “Then give me your pearls.”

    “Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.”

    “That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.” And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

    A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. “What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?” Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy.

    And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here, daddy, this is for you.”

    With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.

    He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.

    So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures.

    Isn’t God good? Are you holding onto things that God wants you to let go of? Are you holding on to harmful or unnecessary partners, relationships, habits and activities that you have come so attached to that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes it is so hard to see what is in the other hand but do believe this one thing. God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.



    wow that was great


    David Miller* [*not his real name], a pious observant Jew was at

    Logan Airport getting ready to board United Flight 175. He was going to LA on an important business trip and had to make this flight.

    A lot depended on it.

    He boarded the plane, watched the doors close, and sat down.

    Suddenly he remembered that he left his tefillin (ritual boxes with straps worn by Jewish men in prayer) in the terminal boarding area.

    He politely asked the stewardess if he could go back and retrieve his tefillin, which were sitting just a few feet from the gate.

    She told him that once the doors of the plane closed, no one was allowed off the plane.

    Not about to take this sitting down, he asked if he could speak to the pilot to obtain special permission. Surely the pilot would understand.

    The pilot did not comply. He simply restated the policy.

    David was not about to lose this precious mitzvah, or let the holy tefillin get lost like that, so, not knowing what else to do, he started screaming at the top of his lungs, “I am going to lose my tefillin.” The crew asked him to be quiet, but he refused to stop making a fuss – a rather loud fuss.

    Finally, he was making such a ruckus and a tumult that the flight crew told him that they would let him off the plane, simply because he was a nuisance.

    In fact, even though it would only take about 90 seconds to run out, grab his tefillin, and run back – they were not going to >wait for him. No matter. David was not about to lose his tefillin, >even if it caused him great inconvenience or cost his business a loss.

    He left the plane, never to re-board.

    This flight was United #175; the second plane to reach the WTC.

    David’s devotion to a mitzvah saved his life.

    The consequences of David’s actions do not end there.

    Originally the terrorists wanted both towers struck simultaneously to maximize the explosive carnage. Later it was learned that due to this whole tumult, the takeoff was delayed, causing a space of 18 minutes between the striking of the two towers.

    This delay made it possible for thousands more people to escape alive from both buildings. Literally thousands, if not tens of thousands, of lives were spared because one Jew would not forsake his beloved tefillin.


    *** MOD – DON’t POST ***

    *** Please post to Science thread ***

    *** Thread was closed as I was typing ***

    There is a story on the “front page” of yeshivaworld about a ruling of the Poskei Hador on Shabbos elevators. According to the story, elevator engineers and technicians were consulted. I think that is significant.

    The Poskei Hador ZT’L also consulted the blueprint of the engineer and technician of the World prior to describing its creation.


    wow this is the most amazing things i have heard. So powerful.


    Rochel Imeinu,

    I heard that story a few years ago, and its really inspirational.

    Unfortunatley though, its been said that it never really happened.

    Be Happy

    Small acts of kindness

    [Setting: Standing on line in a bakery on Friday afternoon, casually eavesdropping on two women having a conversation behind me]

    Woman 1: I’m running really late today… I wonder if they’ve already locked the cash registers

    Woman 2: ‘Locked the cash registers?’ What does that mean… they won’t take our money?

    W1: Yeah… basically. 30 – 45 minutes before they officially close, the owner goes around to each cash register and locks the drawers… and then goes home. The cashiers have instructions to tell anyone coming after the drawers are locked that they have no way to accept money so whatever the customers have picked out is free.

    W2: I don’t get it… why would the owner do that?

    W1: Don’t you see… it’s just like in Machane Yehuda [the open air produce market in Jerusalem] where a lot of the vendors who sell perishables slash their prices an hour before closing for shabbat. That way the poor people can ‘buy’ the things they need for shabbat with dignity… and the vendors basically give things that can’t be stored over shabbat to a worthy cause. And because some of the people doing last minute shopping really are simply running late, there is no shame for the poor because nobody knows who is who.

    W2: Wait, so you’re telling me it’s an open secret that poor people come here during the last hour before closing and they get their baked goods for free?

    W1: Exactly, only everyone’s dignity is protected by the fact that some shoppers are actually running late… and by the owner’s little charade of the locked cash registers. This way everyone wins; The owner of the bakery performs a ‘chesed’ [roughly translates as an act of kindness]… the cashiers get to take part in the act… and the recipients can just as easily be genuinely running late as poor… so there is no embarrassment to anyone at being on the receiving end of the act.

    W2: [after a brief pause] Y’know… sometimes I love this country!

    [Author’s note: Me too!]

    While driving home from the bakery my mind replayed the conversation I had just heard… and then wandered to a memory of a wonderful fish restaurant in Brooklyn that Zahava and I used to frequent. This kitschy little kosher seafood place had an incredibly wide selection of really fresh fish on the menu at all times, and the owner would often come to the table to recommend new selections or advise diners on interesting new ways to have their old favourites prepared.

    After one of our dinners there I was raving about the place to a friend who also knew the place, and I wondered aloud how this little restaurant could afford to have so many different kinds of fresh fish on the menu. Surely the law of averages suggested that they must end up throwing out a lot of fish since not every portion of every type of fish would be ordered by the customers every day.

    My friend’s reply was an eye-opener.

    He explained that every night at ‘closing time’, many of the poor, and/or homeless people from the neighbourhood knew to come to the restaurant. The manager personally seated them at tables set with clean linen tablecloths and napkins, and had his chef prepare for them whatever fish would not be perfectly fresh the following evening. Rather than let the fish go ‘off’ and be thrown away, he opted to have his chef work an extra hour preparing it for people in need of a good meal.

    Someone doing a strict cost analysis might say that the owners of the bakery and the fish restaurant are smart businessman seeing as whatever ‘wasted’ food is leftover at the end of the day is more than paid for by the increased customer traffic and loyalty derived from the larger selection. A cost accountant wouldn’t really care about where the ‘wasted’ food went at the end of the day… because gone is gone, and an old loaf of challah is the same as day old fish to someone looking only at a ledger.

    I like to think that these business owners are keeping two sets of books (and not in the criminal sense); one that tells them how they are doing right now… and one that will only be checked when they are audited at the end of their days.

    I’m sure there must be thousands… maybe even tens of thousands… of stories like these floating around out there. Such ‘small’ acts of kindness must occur every day under our very noses, yet unless we overhear someone talking about them in a bakery line… or have a friend fill us in about what happens to leftover fish at our favourite restaurant… we may never hear about them.

    And that’s a shame.

    Be Happy

    “Never bear more than

    one trouble at a time.

    all they have had,

    all they have now,

    and all they expect to have.”


    This is old, but it’s still good!


    OLD VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long,

    building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

    The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays

    the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.

    The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

    MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!


    The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his

    house and laying up supplies for the winter.

    The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays

    the summer away.

    Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands

    to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others

    are cold and starving.

    CBS, NBC, PBS , CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering

    grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table

    filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.

    How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is

    allowed to suffer so ?

    Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody cries

    when they sing, ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green.’

    Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant’s house where the

    news stations film the group singing, ‘We shall overcome.’ Jesse then has

    the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper’s sake.

    Nancy Pelosi and John Kerry exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the

    ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an

    immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.

    Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act

    retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

    The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs

    and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is

    confiscated by the government.& nbsp;

    Hillary gets her old law firm to represent the grasshopper in a defamation

    suit against the ant, and the case is tried before a panel of federal

    judges that Bill Clinton appointed from a list of single-parent welfare


    The ant loses the case.

    The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the

    ant’s food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be

    the ant’s old house, crumbles around him because he doesn’t maintain it.

    The ant has disappeared in the snow.

    The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now

    abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once

    peaceful neighborhood.

    MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2008!!


    Passing requires 4 correct answers

    1) How long did the Hundred Years’ War Last?

    2) Which country makes Panama hats?

    3) From which animal do we get cat gut?

    4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?

    5) What is a camel’s hair brush made of?

    6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are Named after what animal?

    7) What was King George VI’s first name?

    8) What color is a purple finch?

    9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?

    10) What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?

    Remember, you need 4 correct answers to pass


    1) How long did the Hundred Years War Last?

    116 years

    2) Which country makes Panama hats?


    3) From which animal do we get cat gut?

    Sheep and Horses

    4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?


    5) What is a camel’s hair brush made of?

    Squirrel fur

    6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are Named after what animal?


    7) What was King George VI’s first name?


    8) What color is a purple finch?


    9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?

    New Zealand

    10) What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?

    Orange (of course)

    What do you mean, You failed? Me, too.

    (And if you try to tell me you passed, you lie!)

    Pass this on to some brilliant friends, so they may feel useless too.

    Be Happy

    At the turn of the twentieth century, two of the wealthiest and most famous men in America were a pair of Jewish brothers named Nathan and Isidor Straus. Owners of R.H. Macy’s Department Store and founders of the A&S (Abraham & Straus) chain, the brothers were multimillionaires, renowned for their philanthropy and social activism.

    In 1912, the brothers and their wives were touring Europe, when Nathan, the more ardent Zionist of the two, impulsively said one day, “Hey, why don’t we hop over to Palestine?” Israel wasn’t the tourist hotspot then that it is today. Its population was ravaged by disease, famine, and poverty; but the two had a strong sense of solidarity with their less fortunate brethren, and they also wanted to see the health and welfare centers they had endowed with their millions. However, after a week spent touring, Isidor Straus had had enough.

    “How many camels, hovels, and yeshivas can you see? It’s time to go,” Isidor decreed with edgy impatience in his voice. But Nathan refused to heed his brother’s imperious command. It wasn’t that he was oblivious to the hardships around him; it was precisely because of them that he wanted to stay.

    As he absorbed firsthand the vastness of the challenges his fellow Jews were coping with, he felt the burden of responsibility. “We can’t leave now,” he protested. “Look how much work has to be done here. We have to help. We have the means to help. We can’t turn our backs on our people.”

    “So we’ll send more money,” his brother snapped back. “I just want to get out of here.”

    But Nathan felt that money simply wasn’t enough. He felt that the Jews who lived under such dire circumstances in Palestine needed the brothers’ very presence among them: their initiative,their leadership, and their ideas. Isidor disagreed.

    The two argued back and forth, and finally Isidor said, “If you insist, stay here. Ida and I are going back to America where we belong.”

    The two separated. Isidor and his wife returned to Europe, while Nathan and his spouse stayed in Palestine, traveling the country and contributing huge sums of money to the establishment of education, health, and social welfare programs to benefit the needy. Nathan also financed the creation of a brand-new city on the shores of the Mediterranean. And since his name in Hebrew was Natan, and he was the city’s chief donor, the founders named it after him and called it…Natanya.

    Meanwhile, back in Europe, Isidor Straus was preparing to sail home to America aboard an ocean liner for which he had also made reservations for his brother, Nathan, and his wife. “You must leave Palestine NOW!” he cabled his brother in an urgent telegram. “I have made reservations for you and if you don’t get here soon, you’ll miss the boat.”

    But Nathan delayed. There was so much work to be done that he waited until the last possible moment to make the connection. By the time he reached London, it was April 12 and the liner had already left port in Southampton with Isidor and Ida Straus aboard. Nathan felt disconsolate that he had, as his brother had warned, “missed the boat.” For this was no ordinary expedition, no common, everyday cruise that he had forfeited, but the much ballyhooed maiden voyage of the most famous ship of the century. This was the Titanic.

    Nathan Straus, grief-stricken and deeply mourning his brother and sister-in-law could not shake off his sense that he had had a rendezvous with history. The knowledge that he had avoided death permeated his consciousness for the rest of his life, and until his death in l931, he pursued his philanthropic activities with an intensity that was unrivaled in his time.

    Today, Natanya is a scenic resort city of 200,000 and headquarters to Israel’s thriving diamond trade – one of the most important industries in the country. And in almost every part of the city, there is some small reminder of Nathan Straus’s largesse, his humanity, and love for his people. His legacy lives on.



    esther , wow

    Be Happy

    Sold for a Quarter?

    As he considered what to do, he thought to himself, ‘You’d better give the quarter back. It would be wrong to keep it’.

    Then he thought, ‘Oh, forget it, it’s only a quarter. Who would worry about this little amount? Anyway, the bus company gets too much fare; they will never miss it. Accept it as a ‘gift from G-d’ and keep quiet’.

    When his stop came, he paused momentarily at the door, and then he handed the quarter to the driver and said, ‘Here, you gave me too much change’.

    The driver, with a smile, replied, ‘Aren’t you the new rabbi in town?’

    ‘Yes’ he replied.

    ‘Well, I have been thinking a lot lately about going somewhere to worship. I just wanted to see what you would do if I gave you too much change. I’ll see you in Shul on Shabbos’.

    When the rabbi stepped off of the bus, he literally grabbed the nearest light pole, held on, and said, ‘Oh Rebono Shel Olam, I almost sold a Yid for a quarter.’

    Our lives are the only thing some people will ever read.

    This is a really scary example of how much people watch us as JEW, and will put us to the test! Always be on guard — and remember — You carry the name of HaShem on your shoulders when you call yourself a ‘JEW’.

    Watch your thoughts; they become words.

    Watch your words; they become actions.

    Watch your actions; they become habits.

    Watch your habits; they become character.

    Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

    I’m glad a friend forwarded this to me as a reminder.

    So, I choose to forward it to you – my friend.

    May HaShem bless you; I hope you are having a wonderful day!

    If you don’t pass this on to anybody, nothing bad will happen; but, if you do, you will have reminded someone he/she is being watched.


    8, 2009 at 7:45Three Lives

    It was a strange phenomenon. The famed professor Victor Frankl, author of the perennial best-seller Man’s Search for Meaning, and founder of Logotherapy, would send each year a check to Chabad of Vienna before the High Holidays. Nobody in the Chabad center or in the larger Jewish community could understand why. Here was a man who was not affiliated in any fashion with the Jewish community of Vienna. He did not even attend synagogue even on Yom Kippur. He was married to a very religious Catholic woman. He is not even buried in the Jewish cemetery in Vienna. Yet, he would not miss a single year of sending a contribution to Chabad before Yom Kippur. The enigma was answered only in 1992.

    I Am the First Emissary

    From the Chassidim to the Opera

    On the very night after her performance at the Salzburg Festspiele, close friends smuggled her out of Germany to Italy. From there she managed to embark on the last boat to the U.S. before the war broke out, just a few days later.

    Margareta settled in Detroit, where she married a fine Jewish young man with the family name Chajes (a grandson of one of the most famous 19th century Polish Rabbis and Talmudic commentator, the Maharatz Chayos, and they gave birth to a beautiful daughter.

    Forward the tape recorder of history. It is now many years after the war. Jews were rebuilding their lives and their careers. The rabbis were rebuilding their communities. But one rabbi was thinking of not just of his own community.

    You see, the daughter of Margareta married a prominent Jewish doctor, who was honored by the dinner of a Chabad institution in the US and his mother-in-law, Margareta, acquired an audience with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson.

    The Rebbe listened. But he not only listened with his ears. He listened with his eyes, with his heart, with his soul, and he took it all in. I shared everything and he absorbed everything. That night I felt like I was given a second father. I felt that the Rebbe adopted me as his daughter.

    Two Requests

    At the end of my meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, I expressed my strong desire to go back and visit Vienna. The Rebbe requested from me that before I make the trip, I visit him again.

    A short while later, en route to Vienna, I visited the Rebbe. He asked me for a favor: to visit two people during my stay in the city. The first was Viennese Chief Rabbi Akiva Eisenberg, and give him regards from the Rebbe (the Rebbe said that his secretariat would give me the details and literature to give to Rabbi Eisenberg.) The second person he wanted me to visit I would have to look up myself. The Rebbe said that he was a professor at the University of Vienna and his name was Dr. Victor Frankl.

    You Will Prevail

    Using the German dialect, so Margareta would understand, the Rebbe spoke for a long time about the messages he wished to convey to Dr. Frankl. Close to forty years later she did not recall all of the details, but the primary point was that Frankl should never give up and he should keep on working to achieve his goals with unflinching courage and determination.

    Margareta traveled to Vienna. Her visit with Rabbi Eisenberg was simple. Meeting Victor Frankl proved far more difficult. When she arrived at the University, they informed her that the professor has not shown up in two weeks. There was thus no way she can meet him. After a few failed attempts to locate him at the University, Margareta gave up.

    You see, in 1947, Frankl married his second wife — a very devout Catholic, Eleonore Katharina Schwindt.

    Victor Frankl showed up a few moments later, and after ascertaining that he was the professor at the University, she said she had regards for him.

    Suddenly, the uninterested professor broke down. He began sobbing like a baby. He could not calm down. I did not understand what was going on. I just saw him weeping uncontrollably.

    Forever Grateful

    Suddenly, a change in his voice. Dr. Frankl melted like butter in a frying pan.

    In the Camps

    The Great Debate

    You see, friends, this was no small debate. These two Jews were debating the very meaning of human identity and Victor Frankl had been advocating a view extremely alien to the then-dominant Freudian outlook. In a word: A human being has a SOUL, what we Jews call a Neshamah.

    Freud, like most medical schools, emphasized the idea that all things come down to physiology. The human mind and heart could be best understood as a “side effect” of brain mechanisms. Humans are like machines, responding to stimuli from within or from without, a completely physical, predictable, and godless machine, albeit a very complicated machine, creating psychotics, neurotics, and of course psychiatrists.



    “I began to sob. I cried uncontrollably. I was so moved. I felt like a transformed man. That is exactly what I needed to hear. Someone believed in me, in my work, in my contributions, in my ideas about the infinite transcendence and potential of the human person and in my ability to prevail.

    Victor Frankl concluded his story to Rabbi Beiderman in these words: “??? ?????? ??????? ??? ???? ????”

    I Love Chabad

    And finally, Rabbi Biederman understood why he was getting a check in the mail before each Yom Kippur.

    Their conversation was over.

    Tefilin Each Day

    But the story is not over.

    In 2003, Dr. Shimon Cown, an Lubavitch Australian expert on Frankl, went to visit his non-Jewish widow, Elenor, in Vienna.

    You get it? On Yom Kippur nobody saw him in shul, but a day of Tefilin he did not miss.

    When they asked in interviews whether he believed in G-d, he would usually not give a direct answer.

    But a day of tefilin he would not miss!

    Oy, what a Jew!

    The Soldier

    In 1973, an Israeli soldier lay in the hospital, depressed and dejected, saying that he feels like committing suicide.

    You see, he lost both his legs during the Yom Kippur war. He felt that without legs his future was hopeless.

    One day, his doctor walked into the room. The soldier was sitting upright, and looked relaxed and happy. The doctor looked at him, and saw that his eyes regained that passionate gaze.

    What happened? The doctor asked.

    One Message

    This, friends, was the potential the Rebbe saw when he decided to send Margareta on a mission to Vienna.

    What is a soul?

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