Hello Spridgets,
Watching clouds loiter overhead. "Dad, why are we here?"
Jim replied: "That's something I've thought about a lot
lately, son.
I think we're here to teach kids to bunt,
to eat sunflower seeds without using your hands,
to look all over for my golf ball, give up,
and then find it in the hole.
We're here to wear our favorite sweat-soaked ball cap,
torn sweatshirt, and Converse sneakers;
to tie the perfect fly, make the perfect cast, catch nothing,
and still have a perfect day.
We're here to win a stuffed animal or go broke trying.
The meaning of life is not worrying about what comes after death
but savoring the tiny moments that come before it.
We're here to be there when our kid has three goals and an assist,
but especially when he doesn't.
I won't say on my deathbed, 'I wish I'd spent more time at
the office;' I'll say, 'I got this scar stealing home!'
We're not here to spend our time slaving toward better cars and the
perfect house.
We're not here to find a way to heaven; the way is heaven.
Does that answer your question, son?" The boy looked at his father
and said,
"Not really, Dad. What I meant is: why are we here.. when we were
supposed to pick up Mom a half hour ago"
--
Best regards,
Bill L. mailto:pythias@pacifier.com
'66 Sprite MKIII HAN8L49403 "the red thing"
"I wouldn't give that a grade of A," Tom said beratingly. (*2)
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