coupled with my physical

My hallucinations, coupled with my physical problems, made my prognosis still very bleak.

However, as time passed my mind began to clear and approximately six weeks later my right

leg began to move ever so slightly. Within seven weeks my right arm slowly began to move and

at eight weeks I uttered my first few words.

My speech was extremely difficult and slow in the beginning, but at least it was a

beginning. I was starting to look forward to each new day to see how far I would progress.

But just as I thought my life was finally looking brighter I was tested by the hospital

europsychologist. She explained to me that judging from my test results she believed that I

should not focus on returning to college but that it would be better to set more "realistic

goals."

delight at the jingle

We are all born with wide-eyed, enthusiastic wonder as anyone knows who has ever seen an infant's delight at the jingle of keys or the scurrying of a beetle.

It is this childlike wonder that gives enthusiastic people such a youthful air, whatever their age.

At 90, cellist Pablo Casals would start his day by playing Bach. As the music flowed through his fingers, his stooped shoulders would straighten and joy would reappear in his eyes. Music, for Casals, was an elixir that made life a never ending adventure. As author and poet Samuel Ullman once wrote, "Years wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul."

How do you rediscover the enthusiasm of your childhood? The answer, I believe, lies in the word itself. "Enthusiasm" comes from the Greek and means "God within." And what is God within is but an abiding sense of love -- proper love of self (self-acceptance) and, from that, love of others.

the early work

Years ago, when I started looking for my first job, wise advisers urged, "Barbara, be enthusiastic! Enthusiasm will take you further than any amount of experience."

How right they were. Enthusiastic people can turn a boring drive into an adventure, extra work into opportunity and strangers into friends.

"Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. It is the paste that helps you hang in there when the going gets tough. It is the inner voice that whispers, "I can do it!" when others shout, "No, you can't."

It took years and years for the early work of Barbara McClintock, a geneticist who won the 1983 Nobel Prize in medicine, to be generally accepted. Yet she didn't let up on her experiments. Work was such a deep pleasure for her that she never thought of stopping.

Queen of France

Charm in a man, I suppose, is his ability to capture the complicity of a woman by a single-minded acknowledgment of her uniqueness. Here again it is a question of being totally absorbed, of really forgetting that anyone else exists, for nothing more fatally betrays than the suggestion of a wandering eye. Silent devotion is fine, but seldom sufficient; it is what a man says that counts, the bold declarations, the flights of fancy, the uncovering of secret virtues. A man is charmed through his eyes, a woman by what she hears, so no man need to be too anxious about his age: As wizened Voltaire once said: "Give me a few minutes to talk away my face and I can seduce the Queen of France."

But charm isn't exclusively sexual; it comes in a variety of cooler flavors. Most children have it--till they are told they have it--and so do old people with nothing to lose; animals, too, of course. With children and smaller animals, it is often in the shape of the head and in the chaste unaccusing stare; with young girls and ponies, a certain stumbling awkwardness, a leggy inability to control their bodies. But all these are passive and appeal by capturing one's protective instincts.

on the streets

"Well, young man, I ve got a little surprise for you. I am one of the wealthiest men in the world. I have probably everything any man could ever want. I originally come from the Northeast and have all the things that money can buy. But a year ago, my wife passed away, bless her soul, and since then I have been deeply reflecting upon life. I realized there were certain things I had not yet experienced in life,one of which was what it would be like to live like a bum on the streets. I made a commitment11 to myself to do exactly that for one year. For the past year.1 have been going from city to city doing just that. So, you see, don t ever judge a book by its cover, for a cover can fool you.

"Number two is to learn how to read, my boy. For there is only one thing that people can t take away from you, and that is your wisdom. " At that moment, he reached forward, grabbed my right hand in his and put them upon the books he d pulled from the shelves. They were the writings of Plato13 and Aristotle-immortal classics from ancient times.

The bum then led me back past the smiling old woman near the entrance, down the steps and back on the streets near where we first met. His parting request was for me to never forget what he taught me.

I haven’t.

ran down his face

In seventh grade he decided to go out for the cross-country team. Every day he trained with the team. He worked harder and ran more than any of the others - perhaps he sensed that the abilities that seemed to come naturally to so many others did not come naturally to him. Although the entire team runs, only the top seven runners have the potential to score points for the school. We didn't tell him he probably would never make the team, so he didn't know.

He continued to run four to five miles a day, every day - even the day he had a 103-degree fever. I was worried, so I went to look for him after school. I found him running all alone. I asked him how he felt. "Okay," he said. He had two more miles to go. The sweat ran down his face and his eyes were glassy from his fever. Yet he looked straight ahead and kept running. We never told him he couldn't run four miles with a 103-degree fever. So he didn't know.

Two weeks later, the names of the team runners were called. Joey was number six on the list. Joey had made the team. He was in seventh grade - the other six team members were all eighth-graders. We never told him he shouldn't expect to make the team. We never told him he couldn't do it. We never told him he couldn't do it...so he didn't know. He just did it.

critic to say

Enthusiastic people also love what they do, regardless of money or title or power. If we cannot do what we love as a full-time career, we can as a part-time avocation, like the head of state who paints, the nun who runs marathons, the executive who handcrafts furniture.

Elizabeth Layton of Wellsville, Kan, was 68 before she began to draw. This activity ended bouts of depression that had plagued her for at least 30 years, and the quality of her work led one critic to say, "I am tempted to call Layton a genius." Elizabeth has rediscovered her enthusiasm.

We can't afford to waste tears on "might-have-beens." We need to turn the tears into sweat as we go after "what-can-be."

We need to live each moment wholeheartedly, with all our senses -- finding pleasure in the fragrance of a back-yard garden, the crayoned picture of a six-year-old, the enchanting beauty of a rainbow. It is such enthusiastic love of life that puts a sparkle in our eyes, a lilt in our steps and smooths the wrinkles from our souls.

potent act of behavior

Charm, in the end, is a most potent act of behavior, the laying down of a carpet by one person for another to give his existence a moment of honor. It is close to love in that it moves without force, bearing gifts like the growth of daylight. It snares completely, but is never punitive. It disarms by being itself disarmed, strikes without wounds, wins wars without casualties--though not, of course, without victims.

In the armory of man, charm is the enchanted dart, light and subtle as a hummingbird. But it is deceptive in one thing--like a sense of humor, if you think you've got it, you probably haven't.

that particular

Of those women who have most successfully charmed me I remember chiefly their voices and eyes. Their voices were intimate and enveloping. The listening eyes, supreme charm in a woman, betrayed no concern with any other world than this, warmly wrapping one round with total attention and turning one's lightest words to gold. Theirs was a charm that must have continued to exist, like the flower in the desert, even when there was nobody there to see it.

A woman's charm spreads round her that particular glow of well-being for which any man will want to seek her out and, by making full use of her nature, celebrates the fact of his maleness and so gives him an extra shot of life. Her charm lies also in that air of timeless maternalism, that calm and pacifying presence, which can dispel a man's moments of frustration and anger and restore his failures of will.

judge a book

After conversing for a few minutes, the friendly bum told me to follow him. He told me that he had something grand to show me and share with me. We walked a couple of blocks until we came upon the downtown El Paso Public Library.

We walked up its front steps and stopped at a small information stand. Here the bum spoke to a smiling old lady, and asked her if she would be kind enough to watch my things for a moment while he and I entered the library. I left my belongings with this grandmotherly figure and entered into this magnificent hall of learning.

The bum first led me to a table and asked me to sit down and wait for a moment while he looked for something special amongst the shelves. A few moments later, he returned with a couple of old books under his arms and set them on the table. He then sat down beside me and spoke. He started with a few statements that were very special and that changed my life. He said, "There are two things that I want to teach you, young man, and they are these:

"Number one is to never judge a book by its cover, for a cover can fool you. "He followed with, "I ll bet you think I m a bum, don t you, young man?"

I said, "Well, uh, yes, I guess so, sir. "

how one person

Isn't it amazing how one person, sharing one idea, at the right time and place can change the course of your life s history? This is certainly what happened in my life. When I was 14, I was hitchhiking from Houston, Texas, through El Paso on my way to California. I was following my dream, journeying with the sun. I was a high school dropout with learning disabilities and was set on surfing the biggest waves in the world, first in California and then in Hawaii, where I would later live.

Upon reaching downtown El Paso, I met an old man, a bum, on the street corner. He saw me walking, stopped me and questioned me as I passed by. He asked me if I was running away from home, I suppose because I looked so young. I told him, "Not exactly, sir," since my father had given me a ride to the freeway in Houston and given me his blessings while saying, "It is important to follow your dream and what is in your heart. Son. "

The bum then asked me if he could buy me a cup of coffee. I told him, "No, sir, but a soda would be great." We walked to a corner malt4 shop and sat down on a couple of swiveling stools while we enjoyed our drinks.

waits for no one

We always convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, than another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more contet when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. we will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage.

We always tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together. when we get a nice car, and are able to go on a nice vocation when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time than right now. If not now, when? our life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to ourselves and decide to be happy anyway.

One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred Souza. He said."for a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin-real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, someting to be gotten through firest, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.

Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment that you have.

And remember that time waits for no one. So stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school; until you get married, until you get divorced; until you have kids; until you retire; until you get a new car or home; until spring; until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy….

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.So, work like you don't need money, love like you've never been hurt, And dance like no one's watching.

question of learning

You know who has charm. But can you acquire it? Properly, you can't, because it's an originality of touch you have to be born with. Or it's something that grows naturally out of another quality, like the simple desire to make people happy. Certainly, charm is not a question of learning palpable tricks, like wrinkling your nose, or having a laugh in your voice. On the other hand, there is an antenna, a built-in awareness of others, which most people have, and which care can nourish.

But in a study of charm, what else does one look for? Apart from the ability to listen--rarest of all human virtues--apart from warmth, sensitivity, and the power to please, there is a generosity which makes no demands. Charm spends itself willingly on young and old alike, on the poor, the ugly, the dim, the boring, on the last fat man in the corner. It reveals itself also in a sense of ease, in casual but perfect manners, and often in a physical grace which springs less from an accident of youth than from a confident serenity of mind. Any person with this is more than just a popular fellow; he is also a social healer.

probably more exacting

Charm is the ultimate weapon, the supreme seduction, against which there are few defenses. If you've got it, you need neither money, looks, nor pedigree. It's a gift, given only to give away, and the more used, the more there is. It is also a climate of behavior set for perpetual summer and thermostatically controlled by taste and tact.

True charm is an aura, an invisible musk in the air; if you see it working, the spell is broken. Charm is dynamic, and cannot be turned on and off at will. As to its ingredients, there is no fixed formula. A whole range of mysteries goes into the caldron, but the magic it offers must be absolute-one cannot be "almost" or "partly" charmed.

In a woman, charm is probably more exacting than in a man, requiring a wider array of subtleties. It is a light in the face, an air of exclusive welcome, an almost impossibly sustained note of satisfaction in one's company, and regret without fuss at parting. A woman with charm finds no man dull; indeed, in her presence he becomes not just a different person but the person he most wants to be. Such a woman gives life to his deep-held fantasies by adding the necessary conviction to his long suspicion that he is king.

most children

My son Joey was born with club feet. The doctors assured us that with treatment he would be able to walk normally - but would never run very well. The first three years of his life were spent in surgery, casts and braces. By the time he was eight, you wouldn't know he had a problem when you saw him walk .

The children in our neighborhood ran around as most children do during play, and Joey would jump right in and run and play, too. We never told him that he probably wouldn't be able to run as well as the other children. So he didn't know.

The Story of the Three Genjias

Once upon a time in a certain place there lived three men who all had the same name -- Genjia. One was the tribal chief, the second a carpenter, and the third the chief's steward.

Genjia the carpenter was married to an exceptionally beautiful woman. Genjia the steward fancied her and dreamt day and night of having her for himself. But she was a very upright woman and would not let him get anywhere near her. Finally, he was driven to find some way of killing the carpenter in order to attain his end.

After a while, the father of Genjia the chief died. The steward saw in this a golden opportunity for eliminating the carpenter. Every day he secretly studied the calligraphy of the Buddhist scriptures and succeeded in reproducing the old-fashioned and esoteric style in which they were written. He then wrote a document in this style and handed it to the chief, saying, "Master, here is a document I came across the other day. I cannot understand a word of it and have brought it here specially for you to decipher."

Genjia the chief was baffled by the writing and passed it on to his secretary in charge of documents. After reading it, the secretary said, "This document claims to be from the old chief. In it he says that he has ascended to heaven and is now serving as an official there, but he doesn't have an official mansion. He asks you, Master, to send him a carpenter -- the most skilled you have -- to direct the construction of such a mansion."

Genjia the chief thought constantly of his father and was most concerned to hear that he had nowhere to lay his head in heaven. He sent for Genjia the carpenter, showed him the document and ordered him to go to heaven at once.

Genjia the carpenter was GREatly startled. He dared not refuse, however, and could only plead for time, "How could I disobey your order, Master! But I need some time to prepare. Please allow me seven days. After that time, please hold a Twig Burning Ceremony in the hemp field behind my house to send me off. Then I'll be able to ascend to heaven to build the mansion for the old chief."

The Story of the Three Genjias-2

Genjia the chief considered this request reasonable and willingly aGREed.

When Genjia the carpenter left, he went round making a few investigations. He wanted to find out where the chief had got this idea. He eventually discovered that it had originated in a classical document found by Genjia the steward. He put two and two together and concluded that it must be a sinister plot against him hatched by the steward.

He went home and consulted with his wife. "The most absurd thing has happened. The chief wants me to go and build a mansion in heaven. He must have been tricked into it by Genjia the steward. I did not dare refuse, but asked him to hold a Twig Burning Ceremony behind our house before I go. It would be no use trying to disobey him now. There is only one wa


y for me to get out of this alive. The two of us must dig a tunnel under cover of night leading from the field to our bedroom, and then you can hide me there later. In a year's time I will find some way to get even."

The wife was shocked by this tale. Hatred for the steward filled the very marrow of her bones. She was willing to do anything to save her husband. So every day when night fell, the two of them dug the tunnel in secret. On the seventh day it was completed. They sealed the entrance with a slab of stone and scattered soil on it, so that people wouldn't notice it.

The eighth day came, the day for the carpenter to ascend to heaven. At the head of a retinue of elders and stewards and with a GREat din of bugles and drums, the chief came to send him off. They made a pile of faggots in the hemp field and asked Genjia the carpenter to sling his tool-kit over his shoulder and carry his bag in one hand. They made him stand in the middle, lit the faggots and watched the smoke rise, "carrying him up to heaven".

Genjia the steward was afraid that as soon as the faggots were lit, the carpenter would spoil everything by crying out in terror. "Come on !" he shouted to the crowd. "Blow your bugles and beat your drums! Laugh and cheer! Genjia the carpenter is on his way to heaven to build a mansion for our old chief. Isn't that a wonderful thing!"

The Story of the Three Genjias-3

The chief came over to have a look. Genjia the steward pointed gleefully to the rising smoke and said, "Master, you see, there goes his horse. Genjia the carpenter is on his way to heaven."

The chief was delighted.

The moment the faggots were lit and the smoke began rising into the sky, Genjia the carpenter raised the slab and escaped through the tunnel back to his own bedroom.

He confined himself to his house for a whole year. His wife went to GREat lengths to find milk, butter and other nutritious food for him; and as he did no work, by the end of that year he was plumper and fairer-skinned than ever.

Meanwhile, Genjia the steward tried a thousand and one ways of seducing the carpenter's wife, and she tried a thousand and one ways of avoiding him. He failed completely to attain his goal.

While Genjia the carpenter was hiding at home, he diligently practiced the calligraphy of the Buddhist scriptures. He prepared a document written in the authentic style and kept it on his person. On the first anniversary of his "ascent to heaven" he went and stood on the very spot where he was supposed to have been burned, the same tool-kit on his shoulder and the same bag in his hand. He called out, "How is everybody? I've just got back from heaven."

His wife was the first to come out. She pretended to be extremely surprised and hurried over to report the news to the chief.

The chief was very happy when he heard that Genjia the carpenter was


back. He gave him a hero's welcome with bugles and drums, and invited him to stay in his mansion. He wanted to find out how his father was faring in heaven.

The Gold Colt and the Fire Dragon Shirt-4

Early next morning Skinflint thought Bigmouth must surely be dead. But when he unlocked the

mill door, to his GREat surprise, he found Bigmouth squatting there in a halo of steam, his

whole body in a muck of sweat. Bigmouth stood up at once and begged him, "Master, take pity

on me! Quick, lend me a fan! Or I shall die of heat!"

"How come you are so hot?" asked the dumbfounded Skinflint.

"This shirt of mine is a priceless heirloom," Bigmouth explained. "It's called the Fire

Dragon Shirt. The colder the weather, the GREater the heat it gives off."

"When did you get hold of it?"

"Originally it was the pelt cast off by the Lord Fire Dragon. Then the Queen of the Western

Heaven wove it into a shirt. Later on it somehow fell into the possession of my ancestors

and became a family heirloom. It has been passed down from generation to generation until

finally it came into my hands."

Seeing how unbearably hot he was, Skinflint swallowed the whole story. He was now set on

getting hold of this Fire Dragon Shirt and had completely forgotten the episode of the gold

colt. He insisted on bartering his


fox-fur gown for the shirt. Bigmouth absolutely refused at first, but when Skinflint added

fifty taels of silver to the price, he said with a sigh, "Alas, what a worthless son am I,

to have thus lost my family's treasured heirloom!"

Having said this, he took off his shirt and put on Skinflint's fox-fur gown. Then he

pocketed the fifty taels of silver and strode away.

Skinflint's joy knew no bounds. Several days later his father-in-law's birthday came round.

In order to show off his new acquisition, he went to convey his birthday GREetings wearing

nothing but the Fire Dragon Shirt. In the middle of the journey, a fierce wind came up and

it began to snow. Skinflint felt unbearably cold. The place was far from village or inn

The Poor Turkey Girl-4

Turkey Girl ran from the village, ignoring all her new friends who called after her.

When she reached the canyon where she had left the turkeys it was dark and all the turkeys had gone.

Turkey Girl ran through the canyons and mountains calling out to the turkeys. She called and called but the turkeys would not answer her.

The faster she chased them the faster the turkeys ran away from her.

Brush and thorns ripped her new clothes and they became covered in dust and dirt. The beautiful necklace broke and the she


lls were lost in the dark.

Finally Turkey Girl stopped chasing the turkeys and walked back to the village, sobbing and dirty. She knew life would be much harder now without her good friends the turkeys.

That is why to this day wild turkeys are scattered throughout the canyons and mountains.

And because of Turkey Girl’s broken promise turkeys no longer trust humans and run away whenever we come near.

The Gold Colt and the Fire Dragon Shirt

They waited till midnight. Suddenly the horse opened his hind legs. Skinflint sensed that he

was about to "produce." He quickly brought over a lacquered tray and held it right below the

horse's behind. He waited for ages, but nothing happened. Skinflint was so anxious by now

that he lifted the horse's tail, bent down and peered upwards to keep an eye on further

developments. There was a s


udden "splash," and before Skinflint could do anything about it, the horse had splattered

him all over his face. The "liquid gold" ran down the back of his head and down his neck,

covering his whole body. The stench was so vile that Skinflint started jumping and shouting

and then felt nauseous and began to vomit again and again. Next the horse urinated in GREat

quantity, ruining the lovely red carpet. The whole room stunk to high heaven. Skinflint

realized that he had been cheated, and in a fit of rage, he killed the horse.

The following morning, first thing, he sent some of his hired thugs to track down Bigmouth.

But the peasants had already hidden him away. Skinflint's men searched for him high and low

but always came back empty handed, to his fury and exasperation. There was nothing he could

do except send out spies and wait.

In the twinkling of an eye, it was winter. One day Bigmouth failed to hide properly and was

caught by one of Skinflint's henchmen. When he came face to face with his foe, Skinflint

gnashed his teeth with rage and without saying a word, had Bigmouth locked up in his mill.

He had him stripped of all his padded clothes and left him with nothing but a cotton shirt,

hoping to freeze him to death. It was the very coldest season of the year. Outside, snow was

falling and a bitter wind was blowing. Bigmouth sat huddled up in a corner, trembling with

cold. As the cold was becoming unbearable, an idea suddenly occurred to him. He stood up at

once, heaved a millstone up off the ground and began walking back and forth with it in his

arms. He soon warmed up and started sweating. He passed the entire night in this way,

walking around with the millstone and occasionally stopping for a rest.

The Story of the Three Genjias-4

On meeting the chief, Genjia the carpenter said in a very serious tone of voice, "When I was constructing the official mansion in heaven, the old chief treated me with exceptional kindness, just as you always do, Master. That's why I'm in such good shape! The mansion is finished, and what a magnificent building it is -- ten times the size of an earthly mansion! Only one thing is lacking: a steward. The old chief misses his old steward dearly. He very much wants the steward to go up to heaven and manage things for him. After a period of time he can come back." This said, he promptly produced the document and showed it to the chief, adding that it was the old chief who had asked him to bring it down.

Genjia the chief read the document and was totally convinced by the whole story. Presently he sent for Genjia the steward and asked him to go and work for the old chief in his newly-built mansion in heaven.

When Genjia the steward saw Genjia the carpenter standing there and looking so well after his "ascent to heaven," and when he heard the vivid description of heaven given by the carpenter, he just didn't know what to think. "Perhaps I really possess some sort of magic power", he thought to himself. "It was my idea for him to go to heaven, and he actually seems to have done so! Perhaps it really is possible to fly to heaven, and the old chief really does have a new mansion there!"

He followed the carpenter's example and asked for seven days to get ready, and a Twig Burning Ceremony to be held in the hemp field behind his house to send him off to heaven. He thought that since Genjia the carpenter could come back, he could too. On the eighth day, as on the previous occasion, Genjia the steward stood in the middle of the faggots with a box on his shoulder and a bag in his hand. As on the previous occasion, there was a GREat din of bugles and drums, and the chief gave the order to light the faggots and send him off to heaven.

But the outcome this time was somewhat different. One difference was that after everything was over, a pile of charred bones was found among the ashes. Another difference was that the steward never came back. He stayed on in heaven forever to help the old chief run his mansion.

The Gold Colt and the Fire Dragon Shirt-3

Bigmouth replied, "There's an old proverb which says, 'The proof of the pudding is in the

eating.' If you don't believe me, allow me to arrange a demonstration."

He asked Skinflint to set up a burner and light some incense. Meanwhile, he himself held a

plate below the horse's behind. He secretly pulled out the wad of cotton and the tiny silver

ingots fell jingling onto the plate. On seeing the horse perform like this, Skinflint asked

avidly, "How much does he produce a day?"

"Three or four taels a day for us less lucky folk," replied Bigmouth. "But the old man in my

dream said that if he meets a really lucky person he produces thirty or forty."

Skinflint thought to himself, "I must be one of those. Supposing I get the horse, he is

bound to produce at least twenty taels a day. That means six hundred taels a month and seven

thousand two hundred taels a year."

The longer his sums became, the fonder he GREw of the horse. He decided that he must buy

him, and talked it over with Bigmouth.

At first Bigmouth pretended to be unwilling. Skinflint tried again and again to persuade him

and promised to pay any price he asked. In the end Bigmouth sighed and said, "Oh well, so be

it. My luck is evidently worse than yours. I'll sell. But I don't want silver or gold, just

give me thirty bushels of grain."

Skinflint considered the price very cheap and readily aGREed. They made the exchange then

and there.

Bigmouth hurried back with the grain and distributed it among his fellow peasants. They were

all very happy to have it. Skinflint, for his part, felt even happier to have the horse, and

just couldn't stop chuckling to himself. He was afraid of losing the horse, however, and

tried to tie him up in a GREat many places, but none of them seemed safe enough. Finally, he

tied him up in his own living room. He laid a red carpet on the floor and set up an incense

burner. The whole family watched the colt in eager anticipation, expecting him any minute to

start producing silver and gold.

The Gold Colt and the Fire Dragon Shirt-2

To which Bigmouth replied, "Oh, nothing, except that when he moves his bowels silver and

gold come out."

In an instant Skinflint's anger evaporated and he hastened to ask, "Where did you get hold

of this beast?"

"I dreamt a dream the night before last," began Bigmouth. "I met a white-bearded old man who

said to me, 'Bigmouth, the colt who used to carry gold and silver ingots for the God of

Wealth has been demoted and sent down to Earth. Go to the northeast and catch him. When he

moves his bowels, silver and gold come out. If you catch him, you'll make a fortune.' Then

the old man gave me a push and I woke up. I didn't take it seriously, thinking it to be

nothing but a dream. I turned over and fell asleep again. However, as soon as I closed my

eyes, the old man reappeared and urged me to hurry up. 'The horse will fall into another's

hand


s if you delay!' he said, and gave me another push which woke me up again. I put on my

clothes and ran out. In the northeast I saw a ball of fire. When I ran over, sure enough,

there was the colt, grazing contentedly. So I led him home. The following day, I set up an

incense burner and as soon as I lit the incense, the colt began to produce silver ingots

from its behind."

"Did it really?" asked Skinflint eagerly.

The Gold Colt and the Fire Dragon Shirt-1

There once lived a landlord who loved money as he loved his own life. In his eyes the smallest coin seemed as large as a millstone. He was always on the lookout for some new way of making money and was very mean to his peasant tenants. They all called him "Skinflint."

One year a long spell of drought devastated the area, ruining the entire crop. The peasants, who were used to living from year to year, and never had a reserve of grain to fall back on, were reduced to eating bark and roots to survive, and now even these were all consumed. Starvation drove them to ask for a loan of grain from Skinflint, whose granaries, big and small, were filled to overflowing. Although the grain was sprouting and the flour was swarming with maggots, he was such a miser that he wouldn't part with a single speck of either. His peasants went away seething with anger and resentment, and resolved to find some way to teach him a lesson.

They put their heads together and came up with rather a good plan. They collected together a few tiny silver ingots and also managed to procure a scraggy little horse. They stuffed the silver up the horse's behind and bunged it up with a wad of cotton floss. Then they selected one of their number, a peasant whose gift of gab had earned him the nickname "Bigmouth" and who was credited with the power of talking the dead out of their graves. They sent him to Skinflint with the horse. Seeing them enter, Skinflint flew into a rage. His whiskers bristled.

He glowered at Bigmouth, pointing at him angrily and shouting, "You damn fool! You have fouled my courtyard enough. Get out of my sight!"

"Please keep your voice down, Master," said Bigmouth with a cunning smile. "If you frighten my horse and make him bolt, you'd have to sell everything you've got to make good the damage."

"There you go, Bigmouth, bragging again!" said Skinflint. "What can this scraggy little horse of yours possibly be worth?"

The Poor Turkey Girl

“Ok, talking turkeys! I’m cool with that,” said Turkey Girl. “Now what were you saying about the dance?”

The old turkey said, “If you trust us and do what we say, we can help you go to the dance.”

“But I’ve got nothing to wear except these old clothes, and I’m dirty,” cried the girl.

The turkeys stared at her without saying a word.

“Ok, I trust you,” said Turkey Girl. “You've been my only friends all these years.”

The old turkey told her to take off her dress and put it on the ground. He then strutted back and forth on it, picking at it with his beak and beating it with his wings.

The other turkeys circled around Turkey Girl, brushing her with their wings and combing her hair with their beaks until her skin was clean and smooth and her long black hair was shining and wavy.

When the turkeys stepped away from her, the old turkey stood there, holding a beautifully embroidered white dress in his beak. Turkey Girl put it on.

A large turkey lifted his wing and out fell a pair of the finest white moccasins.

Another turkey coughed and out came a sparkling shell necklace.

Dressed in her new clothes and with her glowing face, Turkey Girl looked truly beautiful.

She thanked the turkeys and turned to leave the canyon to go to the dance.

The Poor Turkey Girl-4

“Before you go” said the old turkey “You must promise not to forget us here in the canyon and come back before it is dark, to take us back to our cages.”

“I promise!” shouted Turkey Girl, as she turned and ran towards the village. “You can trust me.”

When Turkey Girl reached the village no one recognised her in her gorgeous new clothes.

All the young men looked at her admiringly, wondering who this beautiful young woman was. All the young women GREeted her warmly.

At first Turkey Girl was a bit shy and found it hard to talk but gradually she joined in the dancing.

The more she relaxed, the more she enjoyed herself and danced and danced, forgetting about the turkeys.

It wasn’t until she noticed the long shadows cast by the sun as it sank behind the mountains, that she remembered the turkeys.

The Poor Turkey Girl-2

For the next three days as Turkey Girl walked with her turkeys into the canyons, she sighed and talked to the birds about the dance.

“It would be so cool to go to that dance.” she sighed.

The turkeys kept walking.

“But it’s never going to happen. And even if I could go I don’t have a nice dress to wear. Everyone would laugh at me,” she said to the turkeys.

The turkeys kept walking.

On the fourth day as Turkey Girl talked and thought about the dance she didn’t notice that the turkeys had led her further into the canyons than she had ever been before.

The turkeys stopped and circled her.

The oldest turkey flapped his wings, strutted up to her and said “We can help you go to the dance.”

Turkey Girl stared at the old turkey with her mouth wide open, unable to speak

Finally she screamed, “You spoke to me, you really spoke to me! Wow! My turkeys can talk!”

“Yes we can talk when we want to,”


said the old turkey. “Now get over it!”

The Poor Turkey Girl-1

A very long time ago in the village of Shufinne, a young orphan girl lived with her aunt.

The aunt spoilt her own children but was very mean to the little girl. She made her work from sunrise to sunset gathering wood, working in the fields, patching the mud walls of their house and looking after the turkeys.

Each morning the girl would let the turkeys out of their cages and take them into the canyons to let them search for food.

Each night she would go up into the canyons and call the turkeys to come home. They would gather round her and follow her back to their cages. Everyone in the village, including her cousins, called her Turkey Girl.

She was often sent off with the turkeys without any breakfast, and many times she went to bed hungry at night.

Turkey Girl worked hard for years. No one showed her any kindness. But she was very kind and caring to the turkeys. They loved her in return and came immediately she called them at night to lead them back to their cages.

Gradually Turkey Girl GREw into a young woman. But she always looked dirty and tired from all the hard work she did. Her hair was a tangled, untidy mess and her clothes were patched and tattered hand downs from her cousins.

One day it was announced there would be a big dance in the village in four days time. Everyone was excited. Turkey Girl’s cousins began sewing new mantas or dresses for the dance. They laughed as they sewed, and talked about how wonderful they would look at the dance.

Turkey Girl knew she was not invited and even if she was, she had nothing to wear. Everyone would laugh at her dirty and patched clothes.

Having been married

Having been married a long time, my husband sometimes needs a gentle reminder of a special occasion. On the morning of our 35th anniversary, we were sitting at the breakfast table when I hinted, "Honey, do you realize that we've been sitting in these same two seats for exactly 35 years?" Putting down the newspaper, he looked straight at me and said, "So, you want to switch seats?"

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