Avery, Thanks for sharing this. I'm a sentimental person too. chris >List, > > I'm sort of a sentimental type of person anyway, so I'm putting this >article I received from a relative onto this list in the hopes that it >might mean something to some of you as it does me. We all tend to get caught >up in our day to day life, with jobs and family, and sometimes overlook >doing/saying some things that later we regret not having done/said. > I just went to an aunt's funeral a week ago. When I was in Jr. High >School, she lived with us and bought me my first piano in lieu of rent. >She lived less than 1-1/2 hrs. away from me now and I only went to visit >her once since I moved to Houston. I will forever regret that and vow >to try and not let the same type of thing happen again. > My apologies if this type of thing on the list offends anyone. > >Avery > >=========================================================================== > >A Story To Live By, by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times) > >My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted >out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is >lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was >exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag >with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the >first time >we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was >saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion." He >took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were >taking to the mortician. > >His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the >drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't ever save anything for a special >occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion." > >I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed >when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an >unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California >from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about >all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the >things that she had done without realizing that they were special. I'm >still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading >more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view >without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with >my family and >friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should >be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize >these moments now and cherish them. > >I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every >special event - such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the >first camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like >it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small >bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for >special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses >that >function as well as my party-going friends'. > >"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. >If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it >now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she >wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she >would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have >called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. >I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite >food. I'm guessing - I'll never know. > >It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew >that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom >I was going to get in touch with - someday. Angry because I hadn't written >certain letters that I intended to write - one of these days. Angry and >sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I >truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back or save >anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning >when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every >minute, every breath truly is...a gift from God. -Christopher D. Purdy R.P.T. School of Music Ohio University Athens OH -purdy@oak.cats.ohiou.edu (614) 593-1656 fax# (614) 593-1429
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