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Can we stay thankful in this life

I entered DearReader Contest again for this year on last October 2017. Still didn't win, though. But, I'm a bit proud because Suzanne Beecher, who held the contest, said that the quality of the entries this year was amazing--and that she's sincere about that. 
I hope my piece could be featured in her Honorable Mention columns, though : ). But, if it's not, it's also okay.
I would like to congratulate Mr. Herman Martin as the First Place Winner, Ms. Mary Lauck as Second Place winner, and Ms. Ina Massler Levin as the Third Place Winner this year, respectively. And I believe nothing is coincidence, because the topics of shoes and socks were the winners this year.
Well, before reading my entry for that writing contest, I'd like to share some thoughts regarding the contest, in which could be a lesson for myself to write next year and enter the contest again in order to be a winner. These are just my thoughts : ).
From what I have read from the winners' entries of la…
Recent posts

We have 12 clocks in the house

We have twelve clocks in the housestill it strikes me there’s not enough time You go out to the kitchen to get chocolate milk for your spindly son but when you get back he has grown too old for chocolate milk demands beer girls revolution
—Benny Andersen

Why I Love Being Married to a Chemist

Why I Love Being Married to a Chemist by Barbara Crooker
Because he can still cause a reaction in me
when he talks about SN2 displacements,
amines and esters looking for receptor sites
at the base of their ketones.

Because he lugs home serious tomes like The Journal of the American
Chemical Society
or The Proceedings of the Society
of the Plastics Industry
, the opposite of the slim volumes
of poetry with colorful covers that fill my bookshelves.
Because once, years ago, on a Saturday before our
raucous son rang in the dawn, he was just standing there in the bathroom, 
out of the shower. I said Honey, what's wrong? and he said Oh,
I was just thinking about a molecule
.
Because he taught me about sublimation, how
a solid, like ice, can change straight to a gas
without becoming liquid first. 

Because even
after all this time together, he can still
make me melt.



Helen Steiner Rice's 10 Commandments

1. Thou shalt be happy
2. Thou shalt use thy talents to make others glad
3. Thou shalt rise above defeat and trouble
4. Thou shalt look upon each day as a new day
5. Thou shalt always do thy best and leave the rest to God
6. Thou shalt not waste thy time and energy in useless worry
7. Thou shalt look only on the bright side of life.
8. Thou shalt not be afraid of tomorrow
9. Thou shalt have a kind word and a kind deed for everyone
10. Thou shalt say each morning -- I am a child of God and nothing can hurt me





Abt Vogler

Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work, Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk, Man, brute, reptile, fly,—alien of end and of aim, Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep removed,— Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name, And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!
Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine, This which my keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise! Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine, Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his praise! And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell, Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things, Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well, Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.
And another would m…

Cranky Old Man

Got this poem from Joanna Davidson Politano's website

It's a poem that recites with first person point-of-view about an old man—or just what he thinks of himself, and what other people are thinking of him, that way.
The poem was found after he'd died in a nursing home.
Perhaps this poem could also touch someone like you, or us.

***
Cranky Old Man
What do you see, Nurses? ... What do you see? What are you thinking ... when you’re looking at me? A cranky old man, ... not very wise, Uncertain of habit ... with faraway eyes? Who dribbles his food ... and makes no reply. When you say in a loud voice ... ’I do wish you’d try!’ Who seems not to notice ... the things that you do. And forever is losing ...A sock or shoe? Who, resisting or not ... lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding ...The long day to fill? Is that what you’re thinking? ... Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse ... you’re not looking at me. I’ll tell you who I am ... As I sit here so still, As I do at your …

Hattie May Wiatt

Kisah nyata ini terjadi pada akhir tahun 1800-an di Philadelphia, Amerika. Ada seorang gadis kecil bernama Hattie May Wiatt berdiri terisak di dekat pintu masuk sebuah gereja yang tidak terlalu besar, dia tidak diperkenankan masuk ke gereja tersebut karena sudah terlalu penuh.

Pdt. Russell H. Conwell yang kebetulan lewat menanyakan mengapa dia menangis.
“Aku tidak bisa ke Sekolah Minggu,” jawab Hattie.
Melihat penampilan Hattie yang acak-acakan dan tidak terurus, sang pendeta segera mengerti dan bisa menduga sebabnya dia tidak disambut masuk ke Sekolah Minggu. Hattie bersama kedua orangtuanya tinggal di daerah kumuh karena mereka tergolong keluarga miskin. Segera dituntunnya Hattie masuk ke ruang Sekolah Minggu dan mencarikan tempat duduk yang masih kosong untuk Hattie.
Hattie begitu tergugah perasaannya, sehingga sebelum tidur di malam itu ia sempat memikirkan anak-anak lain yang senasib dengan dirinya, yang tidak mempunyai kesempatan untuk ikut Sekolah Minggu.
Ketika ia menceritakan peng…