The Wanderer I SAW the sunset-colored sands, The Nile, like flowing fire between, Where Ramses stares forth serene And ammon's heavy temple stands. I saw the rocks where long ago, Above the sea that cries and breaks, Bright Perseus with Medusa's snakes Set free the maiden white like snow. And many skies have covered me, And many winds have blown me forth, And I have loved the green, bright north, And I have loved the cold, sweet sea. But what to me are north and south, And what the lire of many lands, Since you have learned to catch my hands And lay a kiss upon my mouth. Sara Teasdale

Memorial Day Taps http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Acropolis/2321/memorialday2002/lawson2.html Memorial Taps The flag flutters in the morning breeze That carries the brassy notes from a single bugle Across silent hills and over uncovered heads A wreath adorns the unknown warrior in his final rest While countless others sleep nearby This day these are honored with gun salutes And remembered with their families' tears But why were they taken from us at their prime? Did they not deserve the blessing of long life? Would they not wish to hold their children and see their daughters marry? What did they purchase with their youth and their lives? A lonely cold sleep in neat rows? Or the playing of memorial Taps? NO! Their price was far too high They bought the future for their children and ours O yes! And much more. For it was they who gave us free air to breathe And to others, lands where oppression is no more Because of them tyranny has not replaced common rule Nor has free will been fettered Because of them despots and dictators tremble And whole nations have been set free Let us remember them now for what they have done Not for what they might have been For surely their spirits soar now into the sun with the eagle And their country is grateful For it sent them into harm's way And they went, because it was their duty to go Now it is our duty to remember And to never forget David Lawson © Copyright, May, 1999

Taps http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Acropolis/2321/memorialday2002/taps.html

The Wall: From the Other Side Preface. The story below came to me first from one of the readers of my page who desired to share an inspiring story. Subsequently, the author, himself, while searching Memorial Day sites, came upon the posting. He was gracious enough to offer me the story complete since through various postings and other handling, it had been somewhat edited from the original. The communications involved in the posting of this story have been added to this page as background (click here or access this information after reading). Know, however, that the version you are about to read is as it was originally written. Introduction. Many things are written about The Wall, but never anything of being on the other side. I was inspired by the famous painting by Lee Teter, "Reflections," and Don Poss' recent Autumn's Wall story at http://www.war-stories.com/. For me, and I hope for you, "Reflections," and Autumn's Wall, revealed the Wall's emotion and healing power. Now remember that walk we all began in Vietnam, and know that it will be completed FROM THE OTHER SIDE. >From the Other Side At first there was no place for us to go until someone put up that "Black Granite Wall." Now, everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters wait to see the many people from places afar file in front of this "Wall." Many stopping briefly and many for hours and some that come on a regular basis. It was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, but it seems that many of the attitudes towards that Vietnam war we were involved in have changed. I can only pray that the ones on the other side have learn something, and more "Walls" as this one, needn't be built. Several members of my unit, and many that I did not recognize, have called me to The Wall by touching my name engraved upon it. The tears aren't necessary, but are hard even for me to hold back. Don't feel guilty for not being with me, my Brothers. This was my destiny as it is yours, to be on that side of The Wall. Touch The Wall, my Brothers, so that we can share in the memories that we had. I have learn to put the bad memories aside and remember only the pleasant times that we had together. Tell our other Brothers out there to come and visit me, not to say Good- bye but to say Hello and be together again . . . even for a short time . . . and to ease that pain of loss that we all still share. Today, an irresistible and loving call summons me to The Wall. As I approach, I can see an elderly lady ... and as I get closer, I recognize her---It's Momma! As much as I have looked forward to this day, I have also dreaded it, because I didn't know what reaction I would have. Next to her, I suddenly see my wife and immediately think how hard it must have been for her to come to this place, and my mind floods with the pleasant memories of 30 years past. There's a young man in a military uniform standing with his arm around her---My God!---he has to be my son! Look at him trying to be the man without a tear in his eye. I yearn to tell him how proud I am, seeing him standing tall, straight and proud in his uniform. Momma comes closer and touches The Wall, and I feel the soft and gentle touch I had not felt in so many years. Dad has crossed to this side of The Wall, and through our touch, I try to convey to her that Dad is doing fine and is no longer suffering or feeling pain. I see my wife's courage building as she sees Momma touch The Wall and she approaches and lays her hand on my waiting hand. All the emotions, feelings and memories of three decades past flash between our touch and I tell her that . . . it's all right . . . carry on with your life and don't worry about me . . . . I can see as I look into her eyes that she hears and a big burden has been lifted from her on wings of understanding. I watch as they lay flowers and other memories of my past. My lucky charm that was taken from me and sent to her by my CO . . . a tattered and worn teddy bear that I can barely remember having as I grew up as a child . . . and several medals that I had earned and were presented to my wife. One is the Combat Infantry Badge that I am very proud of, and I notice that my son is also wearing this medal. I had earned mine in the jungles of Vietnam and he had probably earned his in the deserts of Iraq. I can tell that they are preparing to leave, and I try to take a mental picture of them together, because I don't know when I will see them again. I wouldn't blame them if they were not to return, and can only thank them that I was not forgotten. My wife and Momma near The Wall for one final touch, and so many years of indecision, fear and sorrow are let go. As they turn to leave, I feel my tears that had not flowed for so many years, form as if dew drops on the other side of The Wall. They slowly move away with only a glance over their shoulders. My son suddenly stops and slowly returns. He stands straight and proud in front of me and snaps a salute. Something draws him near The Wall and he puts his hand upon etched stone and touches my tears that had formed as dew drops on the face of The Wall . . . and I can tell that he senses my presence and the pride and love I have for him. He falls to his knees and the tears flow from his eyes and I try my best to reassure him that it's all right, and the tears do not make him any less of a man. As he moves back wiping the tears from his eyes, he silently mouths, "God Bless you, Dad . . . ." God Bless, YOU, Son . . . we WILL meet someday, but in the meanwhile, go on your way . . there is no hurry . . . there is no hurry at all. As I see them walk off in the distance, I yell out to THEM and EVERYONE there today, as loud as I can: THANK YOU FOR REMEMBERING..........THANK YOU ALL FOR REMEMBERING. . . . and as others on this side of The Wall join in, I notice that the U.S. Flag, Old Glory, that so proudly flies in front of us everyday, is flapping and standing proudly straight out in the wind from our gathering numbers this day. . . and we shout again, and . . . again . . . . . . and again . . . THANKS FOR REMEMBERING! THANKS FOR REMEMBERING! THANKS FOR REMEMBERING! THANKS FOR REMEMBERING! Written by: APVNV Pat (Beanie) Camunes D/4/31 196th Lt. Inf. Bde Tay Ninh 12/66-4/67 Tam Ky 4/67-12/67 War Stories at: http://war-stories.com/FromTheOtherSide.htm

Just Before the Battle, Mother Just before the battle, Mother, I am thinking most of you. While upon the field we're watching, with the enemy in view. Comrades brave are 'round me lying, filled with thoughts of home and God; For well they know that on the morrow, some will sleep beneath the sod. CHORUS: Farewell, Mother, you may never press me to your breast again; But, oh, you'll not forget me, Mother, if I'm numbered with the slain. Oh, I long to see you, Mother, and the loving ones at home, But I'll never leave our banner till in honor I can come. Tell the traitors all around you that their cruel words we know, In every battle kill our soldiers by the help they give the foe. CHORUS Hark! I hear the bugles sounding, 'tis the signal for the fight, Now, may God protect us, Mother, as He ever does the right. Hear "The Battle Cry of Freedom," how it swells upon the air, Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard, or we'll nobly perish there. CHORUS "Just Before the Battle, Mother" was written by George Frederick Root (1820-1895), one of the most prolific and popular composer of Civil War songs. He is remembered today for such wartime classics as "Just Before the Battle, Mother," "The Battle Cry of Freedom," and "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!" Lyric and discussion provided by Kathy Fraser (Poetry and Music of the WBTS http://www.erols.com/kfraser/). Other sites of interest by this author are: Virginia Division UDC -- http://www.erols.com/va-udc/ and 42nd Virginia Infantry Regiment -- http://www.erols.com/va42nd/.

Eulogy for a Veteran (Author Unknown) Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the Gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the mornings hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die.

God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change The courage to change the things I can And the wisdom to hide the bodies of the doctors who pushed me too far. ________________________________________________________ Outgrown your current e-mail service? Get a 25MB Inbox, POP3 Access, No Ads and No Taglines with LYCOS MAIL PLUS. http://login.mail.lycos.com/brandPage.shtml?pageId=plus

http://www.cnet.navy.mil/naspcola/memorial-day.gif

Makes me cry every time! I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's for a few cold ones. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever -- the heat and humidity at the same level -- too damned high. I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking slot at a snail's pace. An old woman got out so damned slow I thought she was paralyzed. She had a cane and a sheaf of flowers, about four or five bunches as best I could tell. I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, andleft a slightly bitter taste: "Shit! She's going to spend an hour, my damned hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get the hell out of here right,by- God, now!. " But my duty was to assist anyone coming in. Kevin would lock the "in" gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make the last half of happy hour. I broke Post Attention. The hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight; middle-aged man with a small pot-gut and half a limp, in Marine Full Dress Uniform, which had lost its razor crease about 30 minutes after I began the watch. I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint. "Ma'am, can I assist you in anyway?" She took long enough to answer. "Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers. I seem to be moving a tad slow these days. " "My pleasure Ma'am. "Well, it wasn't too much of a lie. She looked again. "Marine, where were you stationed?" "Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71. " She looked at me closer. "Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can. " I lied a little bigger. "No hurry, Ma'am. " She smiled, and winked at me. "Son, I'm 85-years old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can come. my name's Joanne Wieserman,and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time. " "Yes, ma'am. At your service" She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC, France 1918. She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943. She went up the row a ways and laidanother bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944. She paused for a second, "Two more, son, and we'll be done. " I almost didn't say anything, but, "Yes, ma'am. Take your time. " She looked confused. "Where's the Vietnam section, son?I seem to have lostmy way. " I pointed with my chin. "That way, ma'am. " "Oh!" shechuckled quietly. "Son, me and old age ain't too friendly. " She headed down the walkI'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She place a bunch on Larry Wieserman USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out. "OK, son, I'm finished. Get meback to my car and you can go home. " "Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those yourkinfolk?" She paused. "Yes, Donald Davidson was my father; Stephan was my uncle; Stanley was my husband; Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines. " She stopped, whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. And never have. She made her way to her car, slowly, and painfully. I waited for a polite distance to come between us and double-timed it over to Kevin waiting by the car. "Get to the out-gate quick, Kev. I have something I've got to do. " Kev started to say something but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her, she hadn't made it around the rotunda yet. "Kev, stand to attention next to the gate post. Follow my lead. "I humped it across the drive to the other post. When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice:"Tehen Hut! Present Haaaarms!" I have to hand it to Kev, he never blinked an eye; full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing Duty, Honor and Sacrifice. I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

> DARYLE > > I got a bunch of them. > They were in all different sizes, ranks and poses. They were even on > different sides. They were miniature Revolutionary War soldiers made out > of pewter. They were well-crafted and amazing things to see. They were > given to me and I took them, without even mumbling a "much obliged." > My older cousin, Daryle, had given them to me. Daryle was all dressed > up in his army uniform. He looked even more impressive than the little > soldiers. I didn't really want the little soldiers he offered me, but I > took them. Daryle was older that I was and, as my elder, he deserved some > respect. I was at that awkward age when it came to such things. I was too > old to play with the small troops and too young to really appreciate them. > The only material things I was interested in at that age were my baseball > glove, my GE transistor radio with the earplugs and my dream car, that I > would be much too young to drive, even if I could afford to buy it. > My mother always told me that a person can never be too thankful. > Even with that wonderful instruction, I had neglected to thank Daryle for > the little soldiers. I wish my mother had taken them from me, along with > my old comic books and baseball cards, and told me that she would give them > back to me when I turned 30, in the hopes that I would have developed a > brain by then. > I had a Springfield single-shot .22 rifle. I wanted to practice with > it. Daryle had shown me his marksmanship badge and I thought maybe I could > earn myself one of those one day. He was plenty proud of that badge and > told me that it had taken a lot of practice to get it. > A decent target cost good money and I wasn't much of a hunter, so the > little soldiers were the perfect prey for me. I set the little army men up > on a rockpile and then began picking them off one-by-one with my > Springfield rifle. The shooting did wonders for my marksmanship, but it > didn't do the little pewter figures much good. Soon they were all gone -- > shot to pieces -- yet another item tossed upon my life's scrap heap. > Time passed. I had forgotten all about the tiny pewter soldiers until > I received word that Daryle had been killed in Vietnam. The day he gave me > the little soldiers was the last day I was to ever see Daryle alive. He > left a wife and two young children. I wanted to bring Daryle back. I > wanted to bring those little army men back. I never did thank Daryle for > those little soldiers. > Perhaps playing with the little soldiers is what made Daryle want to > make the Army his career. I will never know. Since that day that I > learned of Daryle's death, I try very hard to thank everyone for > everything. Sometimes I forget, but I try real hard. > Some years ago, I made a trip to Washington, DC, and visited the > Vietnam Memorial. I was going to make rubbings of Daryle's name on the > Memorial Wall, keeping one for myself and giving the rest to a number of my > aunts. I was doing okay at this task until a little blond haired girl, > wearing a white dress, put a flower at the base of a row of names. > This little girl, probably the grandchild of one of the deceased, > brought back a flood of memories for me. She caused me to give much > thought to Daryle and some to those little Revolutionary War soldiers made > out of pewter, as I stood by that Wall. I cried as I made a rubbing of > Daryle's name from that Wall of names of people who died doing their duty > in the jungles of a foreign land. It took me a number of attempts before I > was able to finish making the rubbings. I never thanked Daryle for the > little pewter soldiers. I never thanked Daryle for serving this country > well, for being willing to die for all of us back home. > Daryle died for his country and for all the things it represents. > People like Daryle have made this country what it is -- the greatest place > on Earth. > For some reason, I know that whenever I thank a veteran, that Daryle > hears me and understands that I am thanking him, too. > Thank you. > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. This new element has been tentatively named "Administratium". Administratium has 1 neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 75 deputy neutrons, and 111 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312. These 312 particles are held together by a force called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Administratium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected as it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Administratium causes one reaction to take over 4 days to complete when it would normally take less than one second. Administratium has a normal half-life of 3 years; it does not decay but instead, undergoes a reorganization, in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons and assistant deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Administratium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization causes some morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron-promotion leads some scientists to speculate that Administratium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as "Critical Morass". You will know it when you see .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

A good Irish man, John O'Reilly, met regularly with his toastmasters club. One evening they were hitting the Guiness Stout and having a contest as to who could make the best toast. John O'Reilly hoisted his beer and said "Here's to spending the rest of me life between the legs of me wife?" That won him the top prize for the toast of the night. He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for the best toast of the night." She said, "Aye, what was your toast?" John said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life sitting in church beside me wife." "Oh me that is very nice indeed, John," Mary said. The next day Mary ran into one of John's toasting buddies on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, "John won the prize the other night with a toast about you Mary." She said, "Aye, and I was a bit surprised me self! You know, he's only been there twice! Once he fell asleep and the other time, I had to pull him by the ears to make him come!" .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

SO MANY DREAMS We met in high school during my senior year. He had ambitions for a career in the field of mechanics and engineering, wanting to design cars someday. He enrolled in college but not before he received a letter from Uncle Sam, inviting him to join in a war that was going on in Vietnam. Basic training took place in Missouri, and then there was a brief leave before he would report for duty, going to Saigon. His parents were gone and he lived with his older sister and family. We shared times of laughter and fun with friends. But, too soon it was over and I drove him to the airport where he departed to join his battalion in California. Over the next year while he was fighting, I was in college having fun with new friends, yet, always managing to get a letter to him, praying all was well. I received many letters that year -- they were censored and he never mentioned his location. One was written in the rice paddies and he described the area as if it were a lovely picturesque setting. Maybe during that moment it truly was for him, but I knew as an infantryman in the Army he was in the thick of it. Over a year had gone by and I was home from college, during the time he would be returning stateside, and I offered to pick him up at the airport. Waiting for his arrival, I noticed many young men coming home. Some were maimed and walking with a crutch to support one leg that was good, others were wearing a sling holding their arm in place. Wives and girl friends, parents and siblings waited patiently as the planes arrived. Many soldiers would fly stand by and their flight time was unknown. Lovers were united, mothers cried and hugged their sons, dads patted their shoulders -- proud of their contribution. I guess he saw me first -- the uniforms all looked the same to me. Very handsome and mature he walked up and gave me a hug. His face seemed to be older, his skin was tan and when I looked into his eyes I knew he had lived a lifetime in that year. On the way home he was hungry so we stopped at a little restaurant away from the busy airport and people. He ordered a hearty meal, and although I tried to get him to talk, he held back, often looking back behind his shoulder. He stood out in his Army uniform, and others glanced often. A man at a table next to us asked him if he had seen action. He responded kindly and to the point, where he had been and for how long. I think the man would have continued, but his wife laid her hand on his arm. We ate in silence and I was glad when he went up to pay the bill, although he had eaten only a portion of his food. To his surprise, the owner told him it had been taken care of by the man at the other table. My friend said, "Thank You, Sir." "NO. Thank You, Son." There was an exchange of understanding in their expressions. After the ride back to his sister's we kept in touch, but college was starting and I was leaving to go out of state. He had made plans to attend a school near home, using the GI bill to help with his tuition. It was sometime over a year later that I ran into him, and he was happy and working at his studies. We talked, touching on the highlights of our lives, and finally hugged goodbye. Another year went by and I was engaged to be married. I sent him an invitation, but he was going with a gal and would be attending a function with her out of town at her parent's home. I was happy to hear he had met someone special. Years went by and we lived states away from one another. I was always happy to receive a Christmas card from him, to hear about his life and family. The exchange of notes in cards was our only contact, until one Christmas recently, it didn't look like his signature, it was his wife's handwriting. There was also a newspaper clipping with it. She wrote that although he seemed fine for many years after the war, in the mid 90's he started having problems, and he went to a hospital in Maryland to be tested. Soon he started receiving treatments for Agent Orange. After several years, they said there was nothing more they could do except to make him comfortable. He had two grown children when he passed away at a young age. The clipping was his obituary. My mind paused to remember the fun and banter we had and the little restaurant where the man bought our meal, and how proud and nice he looked in his uniform. There was never any question about his going to war, he was glad to do it for his country. It was just hard to believe that after over a year in battle, he had to once again battle another war. I mourned for the person who had so many dreams. I responded with a letter of sympathy and shared some memories with his wife. It was a sad and cruel thing, but I knew he would have been brave about it, just like he was so many years ago when Uncle Sam had called him to serve in the 60's. This time he wasn't at battle any longer, the pain was gone, and it was the Lord who was finally calling him home. -- Diane Dean White .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

you to sweetie btw sami is having a girl! so be 3 girls one boy. actually counting steps 4 girls 2 boys! yikes 6 grands at 42 err blah > > > Oh, Very Good Stuff Missi Richiele~! > Thank you. > Happy Memorial Day Weekend Sweetheart. > Love ya, > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

A father and son went hunting together for the first time. The father said, "Stay here and be very QUIET. I'll be across the field." A few minutes later, the father heard a bloodcurdling scream and ran back to his son. "What's wrong?" the father asked. "I told you to be quiet." The son answered, "Look, I was quiet when the snake slithered across my feet. I was quiet when the bear breathed down my neck. I didn't move a muscle when the skunk climbed over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and held my breath when the wasp stung me. I didn't cough when I swallowed the gnat. I didn't cuss or scratch when the poison oak started itching. But when the two chipmunks crawled up my pant legs and said, "Should we eat them here or take them with us? Well, I guess I just panicked." .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

> Redneck Cowboy > > > A redneck cowboy rides into a town on a hot blistering day riding his horse > with his dog following. He ties his horse and the dog under the shade of a > tree. The Redneck cowboy goes into the bar for a cold beer. About 20 > minutes later a policeman comes in and asks who owns the dog tied under the > tree. The Redneck cowboy tells him that its his. The policeman says; "Your > dog is in heat". The redneck cowboy answers; "No way the dogs in heat; he's > cool, cause he's tied under the shade of the tree". The policeman says; > "No, you don't understand, your dog needs to be bred". The redneck cowboy > shakes his head and says; "No way the dog needs bread, he's not hungry, I > gave him beef jerky this morning". The policeman finally gets mad and says; > "Look, your dog wants to have sex". The redneck cowboy looks at him and > says "Go ahead, I always wanted a police-dog". > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Subject: If you think you're life is bad.......... > > >If you think life is bad..... > >How would you like to be an egg? > >You only get laid once. > >You only get eaten once. > >It takes four minutes to get hard. > >Only two minutes to get soft. >You share your box with 11 other guys > >But worst of all.. > >the only chick that ever sat on your face was >your mother!!! > >So cheer up, Your life ain't that bad!!!! > >Pass it around to someone who you feel can use a >good lay, >I mean day!!!!! .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Brain Teasers 1. A murderer is condemned to death. He has to choose between three rooms. The first is full of raging fires, the second is full of assassins with loaded guns, and the third is full of lions that haven't eaten in 3 years. Which room is safest for him? 2. A woman shoots her husband. Then she holds him under water for over 5 minutes. Finally, she hangs him. But 5 minutes later they both go out together and enjoy a wonderful dinner together. How can this be? 3. There are two plastic jugs filled with water. How could you put all of this water into a barrel, without using the jugs or any dividers, and still tell which water came from which jug? 4. What is black when you buy it, red when you use it, and gray when you throw it away? 5. Can you name three consecutive days without using the words Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday? 6. This is an unusual paragraph. I'm curious how quickly you can find out what is so unusual about it. It looks so plain you would think nothing was wrong with it. In fact, nothing is wrong with it! It is unusual though. Study it, and think about it, but you still may not find anything odd. But if you work at it a bit, you might find out. Try to do so without any coaching! ANSWERS: 1. The third. Lions that haven't eaten in three years are dead. 2. The woman was a photographer. She shot a picture of her husband,developed it, and hung it up to dry. 3. Freeze them first. Take them out of the jugs and put the ice in the barrel. You will be able to tell which water came from which jug. 4. The answer is Charcoal. In Homer Simpson's words: hmmmm... Barbecue. 5. Sure you can: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow! 6. The letter "e", which is the most common letter in the English language,does not appear once in the long paragraph. .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

You may not believe in this but the advice is great! Read all the way down, you might learn something! THE FOLLOWING IS A CHINESE GOOD LUCK TANTRA TOTEM. This TANTRA totem has been sent to you for good luck. It has been sent around the world ten times so far. You will receive good luck within four days of relaying this TANTRA totem. Send copies to people you think need good luck. Don't send money as fate has no price. Do not keep this message. The TANTRA totem must leave your hands in 96 hours. You will get a very pleasant surprise. This is true, even if You are not superstitious. ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully. TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other. THREE. Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want. FOUR. When you say, "I love you," mean it. FIVE. When you say, "I'm sorry," look the person in the eye. SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married. SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight. EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much. NINE. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely. TEN. In disagreements, fight fairly. Please No name-calling. ELEVEN. Don't judge people by their relatives. TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly. THIRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, "Why do you want to know?" FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk. FIFTEEN. Say "bless you" when you hear someone sneeze. SIXTEEN. When you lose, don't lose the lesson. SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; Responsibility for all your actions. EIGHTEEN. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship. NINETEEN. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it. TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice. TWENTY-ONE. Spend some time alone. .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Heavenly Father, Help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and was rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children. Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester. Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares. Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together. Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not just to those who are close to us but to all humanity. Let us be slow to judgment and quick to forgiveness and patience and empathy and love. AMEN! Be Nice; Nice Is Good! .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³