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Welcome to 'OZ' - The 'Other' Side of the Rainbow!! Posting is at 10AM, Noon and 2PM CST daily. Up to 12 days of posts on the main page. The archives have more. You can forward posts by clicking on the envelope at the bottom of the post. Enjoy your stay! *** If you need to contact me, or have a copyright issue, please use the "Contact The Wizard" form on the left side of 'OZ'. Original source and author is cited and credited in each post where possible. ***
From BLY University
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Sully Erna (the openly Wiccan vocalist/guitar player for Godsmack) speaking about Wicca... "Contrary to what most people wish to believe, Wicca is a very peaceful, harmonious and balanced way of thinking, an earth religion if you want. I believe it is the oldest religion, definitely pre-Christian, and we don't worship Satan or the devil because we don't believe in it.
We believe that the earth is a mother to us all and we should honor and respect her and live a harmonious life. We don't own the earth but we are part of it and to destroy it means to destroy ourselves. We respect life above all. Respect for life and free thought I'd say are the basics for Wicca.
We respect every other religion because we think all gods and goddesses are the same. People just worship them in a different way. Wicca is often mistakenly associated with evil, but we believe in Karma and if we do something bad it comes back to haunt us, as a godsmack!
That's the basic creed, harm none. We don't sacrifice people and we don't sacrifice animals because we believe in harming no one. We also don't worship Satan; he is a Christian creation and they can keep him. Wicca doesn't work with fear. It's about your own consciousness and doing what's right. We believe in the Law of Three: whatever you do comes back three fold, good or bad." *Original link Great Explanation!
This will make you laugh out loud! Don't eat chicken sandwiches, no matter what.....
A little boy and a little girl attended the same school and became friends. Every day they would sit together to eat their lunch. They discovered that they both brought chicken sandwiches every day! This went on all through the fourth and fifth grades, until one day he noticed that her sandwich wasn't a chicken sandwich. He said,
"Hey, how come you're not eating chicken, don't you like it anymore?" She said "I love it but I have to stop eating it." "Why?" he asked. She pointed to her lap and said "Cause I'm starting to grow little feathers down there!" "Let me see" he said. "Okay" and she pulled up her skirt. He looked and said, "That's right. You are! Better not eat any more chicken."
He kept eating his chicken sandwiches until one day he brought peanut butter. He said to the little girl, "I have to stop eating chicken sandwiches, I'm starting to get feathers down there too!" She asked if she could look, so he pulled down his pants for her. She said "Oh, my God, it's too late for you! You've already got the neck and the gizzards!!!
“Rufus Wainwright, as well as K.D. Lang are among the Canadians making essential and beautiful music. Add the name Jeffery Straker to that list” – Chicago Free Press, Gregg Shapiro (Jan ‘09) “Cycling through (his) record I could not help but wonder why he’s not already a star in this country. Over time, he’s evolved into a fine songwriter with great lyrical sensibilities. Straker is very much an artist to watch” – Canadian Musician Magazine (Feb ’09)
Singer-songwriter-pianist Jeffery Straker performs over 100 shows per year across Canada. He recently recorded for CBC radio’s ‘Canada Live’, had a music video rise to the top 10 (#6) on Canada’s Much More Music and in May 2010 toured his music with the Regina Symphony Orchestra Chamber Players.
His album ‘Step Right Up’ was the #5 selling album in his home-land of Saskatchewan in August 2010, ahead of both Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. He’s sure neither of them cared. But he is sure that he, in fact, did. He has just launched a new album, ‘under the soles of my shoes’ in June 2011 and is touring Canada in support of it.
Tour stops include shows ranging from intimate house concerts to a show with the full Regina Symphony Orchestra (Oct 1, 2011) and many in between. Canadian Musician Magazine recently said, “Very much an artist to watch”. The Chicago Free Press has written “: “Rufus Wainwright, as well as k.d. lang are among the Canadians making essential and beautiful music. Add the name Jeffery Straker to that list”.
Originally from small town Saskatchewan, the classically trained pianist was raised by a church organist mother and auctioneer father. He swears he was born under the piano on the family farm. All this might explain his ability to share songs with audiences.
Jeffery has been invited to showcase at Canadian Music Week, NXNE, the Western Canadian Music Awards (Multiple times), as well as JunoFest. His songwriting has seen him become a national top 10 finalist in the Canadian Radiostar Songwriting Competition and a top 20 finalist in the global 2009 Unisong Competition. In September 2010 he was honored to be short-listed for the Sask. Lieutenant Governor’s Arts Award.
Not at all sure if he would actually win it, he was delighted to attend the gala as he was sure the cake would be amazing. It was. In addition to launching his new album in 2011, Jeffery performed a concert with the full Regina Symphony Orchestra at the Conexus Arts Centre (Oct 1), debut at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa, perform with R&B diva Jully Black, record new songs on Glenn Gould’s grand piano (at the CBC studios in Toronto) with Danny Michel as producer, and debut at the Regina Folk Festival. Somewhere amindst that, he’ll tour the country.
Jeffery is a musical descendant of Beethoven through teacher-student lineage (seriously…see below for the full story). He was a student of the Royal Conservatory of Music and received his licentiate diploma in piano performance from Trinity College, London when he was 19.
THE BEETHOVEN CONNECTION: His musical prowess and flare at the piano has an incredibly famous connection – it’s true. While studying at the conservatory of music at the University of Regina, Jeffery worked with one Frank Crumly, who had been taught by Thomas Manshardt, who previously had been taught by Howard Wells, who was a student of Leschetizky (acknowledged as the greatest teacher of all time), who was taught by Czerny, who, you guessed it, was taught by Beethoven. A similar lineage through Manshardt connects Jeffery to Chopin. Quite the pedigree.
Visit www.jeffstraker.com for more info + tour dates. www.twitter.com/jefferystraker www.facebook.com/jeffery.straker.music
Crossing the River Three men were hiking through a forest when they came upon a large, raging violent river. Needing to get on the other side, the first man prayed, "God, please give me the strength to cross the river." Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs and he was able to swim across in about 2 hours, having almost drowned twice.
After witnessing that, the second man prayed, "God, please give me strength and the tools to cross the river." Poof! God gave him a rowboat and strong arms and strong legs and he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.
Seeing what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed, "God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross this river." Poof! He was turned into a woman. She checked the map, hiked one hundred yards up stream and walked across the bridge.
GO AHEAD! SEND THIS TO A WOMAN WHO NEEDS A GOOD LAUGH
WORDS WOMEN USE FINE This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
FIVE MINUTES If she is getting dressed, this is half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given 5 more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
NOTHING This is the calm before the storm. This means "something," and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with 'Nothing' usually end in "Fine"
GO AHEAD This is a dare, not permission. Don't do it.
LOUD SIGH This is not actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing"
THAT'S OKAY This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
THANKS A woman is thanking you. Do not question it or faint. Just say you're welcome. Send this to the men you know to warn them about future arguments they can avoid if they remember the terminology! And send it to your women friends to give them a good laugh! Oh, and before we forget ...
"WHATEVER"
...it's a woman's way of saying *!#@ YOU!
What's doing, Norm?
"Well, science is seeking a cure for thirst. I happen to be the guinea pig."
What's up, Norm? "My nipples. It's freezing out there."
What's shaking, Norm? "All four cheeks & a couple of chins."
What's new, Norm? "Terrorists, Sam. They've taken over my stomach & they're demanding beer."
What'd you like, Normie? "A reason to live. Give me another beer."
What'll you have, Normie? "Well, I'm in a gambling mood Sammy. I'll take a glass of whatever comes out of the tap." Looks like beer, Norm. "Call me Mister Lucky."
Hey Norm, how's the world been treating you? "Like a baby treats a diaper What's the story, Mr. Peterson? "The Bobbsey Twins go to the brewery. Let's cut to the happy ending."
Hey Mr. Peterson, there's a cold one waiting for you. "I know, if she calls, I'm not here."
What's going on, Mr. Peterson? "A flashing sign in my gut that says, 'Insert beer here.'"
"Whatcha up to, Norm?" "My ideal weight if I were eleven feet tall."
How's it going, Mr. Peterson?" "Poor." I'm sorry to hear that. "No, I mean pour."
How's life treating you, Norm? "Like it caught me sleeping with its wife." "Women. Can't live with 'em.... pass the beer nuts."
What's going down, Normie? "My butt cheeks on that bar stool."
Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson? "Alright, but stop me at one....make that one-thirty."
How's it going, Mr. Peterson? "It's a dog eat dog world, Woody & I'm wearing Milk Bone underwear."
What's the story, Norm? "Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy meets another beer."
Can I pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson? "A little early, isn't it, Woody?" For a beer? "No, for stupid questions."
What's the story, Norm? "Thirsty guy walks into a bar. You finish it."
What's new, Norm? "Most of my wife."
Beer, Norm? "Naah, I'd probably just drink it."
What's doing, Norm? "Well, science is seeking a cure for thirst. I happen to be the guinea pig."
Can I draw you a beer, Norm? "No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one."
How about a beer, Norm? "Hey I'm high on life, Coach. Of course, beer is my life." How's a beer sound, Norm? "I dunno. I usually finish them before they get a word in."
Beer, Normie? "Uh, Coach, I dunno, I had one this week. Eh, why not, I'm still young."
Norm comes in with an attractive woman. Normie, Normie, could this be Vera? "With a lot of expensive surgery, maybe."
What would you say to a nice beer, Normie? "Going down?"
What'll it be, Normie? "Just the usual, Coach. I'll have a froth of beer and a snorkel."
What do you say, Norm? "Any cheap, tawdry thing that'll get me a beer."
[coming in from the rain] "Evening, everybody." Norm! Still pouring, Norm? "That's funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Whaddya say, Norm? "Well, I never met a beer I didn't drink. And down it goes."
[Norm goes into the bar at Vic's Bowl-A-Rama] Off-screen crowd: Norm! Sam: How the hell do they know him here? Cliff: He's got a life, you know. What's your pleasure, Mr. Peterson? "Boxer shorts and loose shoes. But I'll settle for a beer."
How's life, Mr. Peterson? "Oh, I'm waiting for the movie."
What can I do for you, Mr. Peterson? "Elope with my wife."
How's life in the fast lane, Normie? "Beats me, I can't find the on-ramp."
What's happening, Mr. Peterson? "The question, Woody, why is it happening to me?"
How are you today, Mr. Peterson? "Never been better, Woody. ... Just once I'd like to be better."
Hey, Mr. Peterson, what do you say to a cold one? "See you later, Vera, I'll be at Cheers."
Well, look at you. You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. "And I need a beer to wash him down."
Hey, Mr. Peterson, how's life? "Well, the plot's okay, Woody, but it kind of falls apart at the end."
What's going on, Mr. Peterson? "Let's talk about what's going in Mr. Peterson. A beer, Woody."
How's life treating you? "It's not, Sammy, but that doesn't mean you can't."
Beer, Norm? "Have I gotten that predictable? Good."
What do you know there, Norm? "How to sit. How to drink. Want to quiz me?" Hey, how's life treating you there, Norm? "Beats me. ... Then it kicks me and leaves me for dead."
How would a beer feel, Mr. Peterson? "Pretty nervous if I was in the room."
Hey, Mr. Peterson, what's up? "The warranty on my liver." What can I do for you, Norm? "Open up those beer taps and, oh, take the day off, Sam."
What's going on, Normie? "My birthday, Sammy. Give me a beer, stick a candle in it, and I'll blow out my liver."
How about a beer, Norm? "That's that amber sudsy stuff, right? I've heard good things about it!"
What's shaking Mr. Peterson? "What isn't?"
How's it going, Norm? "Cut the small talk and get me a beer."
What can I do for you Norm? "Well, I am going to need something to kill time before my second beer so how about a first one?"
How's life Norm? " Ask a man whose got one." What'll you have, Norm? "Fame, fortune, and fast women."
How 'bout a beer? "Even better." How's the world treating you, Norm? "Like I just ran over its dog.
"What seems to be the problem?" Immediately, the one man, a 20s something blonde, held his long face down without anything to say. On the other hand, his partner began talking 90 miles and hour describing all the wrongs within their relationship. After 5 - - 10 - - 15 minutes of listening to him, the counselor went over to him, picked him up by his shoulders, kissed him passionately for several minutes and then sat him back down.
The councilor then looked over at the blonde who was staring in disbelief at what had happened.
The counselor said, "Your boyfriend NEEDS that at least twice a week!"
The blonde scratched his head and replied, "I can have him here on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
by E. L. Davis
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"Big Man - Little Man" |
They come into our lives one small child at a time, Always scared and lonely and wondering what they’ll find. Their minds so full of questions and their eyes full of fear, Always listening closely just to see what they can hear. Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time.
Once someone’s little angel sent from heaven up above Now battered, bruised, and broken and only wanting love. You offer them affection just to see them pull away, But you keep on trying, every single day. A child is like a garden—without love, it won’t grow. But give it to them daily and soon it starts to show.
You see a little sparkle in eyes once filled with fear, You hear a little laugh that sounds oh-so-dear. Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time. Once someone’s little angel, now ours for awhile, That gives us hugs and kisses and a big, warm smile. Now all those deep dark secrets they’ve kept locked up inside, They start to tell them to you, a little at a time.
As you sit and listen to the words they say, You ask yourself, “How come life turns out this way?” Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time. Now the days are passing by and all their fears are too. You hope you’ve made a difference with all you say and do, And you know you have when you hear “I love you.” It makes it all worthwhile when bedtime comes at night, And you get those hugs and kisses when you turn out the light. Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time.
Now as the love inside grows more and more each day, The call you knew was coming finally comes your way. They’re coming to get the angel that someone threw away, Now your heart is breaking because you know that they can’t stay. As you pack the memories that all of you have made, You gently wipe away the tears streaming down your face.
And as you place each item a reflection you will see, Of the child as they are today and how they used to be. Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time. Once again the house falls silent of tiny little feet, Gently, softly running, playing hide and seek. Even though you’re leaving, in our hearts you’ll always stay In a special place, safely locked away. God bless all little angels sent from heaven up above. May they all find families, filled with happiness and love. Little feet, little minds. So many children, so little time.
E. L. Davis is a foster parent in Chatham County, North Carolina.
Copyright © 2002 Jordan Institute for Families
¹ Painting "Little Man Big Man" © Steve Walker
ya think they unnerstand . . . 'till ya ax 'em some questions on it. I love kids versions.
Children's Bible Gaffs The following statements about the bible were written by children and have not been retouched or corrected (i.e., bad spelling has been left in.)
In the first book of the Bible, Guinessis, God got tired of creating the world, so he took the Sabbath off.
Noah's wife was called Joan of Ark.
The Jews were a proud people and throughout history they had trouble with the unsympathetic Genitals.
Moses led the Hebrews to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread which is bread without any ingredients. The Egyptians were all drowned in the dessert. Afterwards, Moses went up on Mount Cyanide to get the ten ammendments.
The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple. The seventh commandment is thou shalt not admit adultery.
Moses died before he ever reached Canada. Then Joshua led the Hebrews in the battle of Geritol.
David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Finklesteins, a race of people who lived in Biblical times.
Solomon, one of David's sons, had 300 wives and 700 porcupines.
When Mary heard that she was the mother of Jesus, she sang the Magna Carta.
When the three 'wise guys' from the east side arrived, they found Jesus in the manager.
Jesus was born because Mary had an immaculate contraption.
Jesus enunciated the Golden Rule, which says to do one to other before they do one to you.
The epistles were the wives of the apostles.
A Christian should have only one spouse. This is called monotony.
Sister Mary Kay Katherine entered the Monastery of Silence. The Priest said, "Sister, this is a silent monastery.
You are welcome here as long as you like, but you may not speak until I direct you to do so".
Sister Mary Kay Katherine lived in the monastery for 5 years before the Priest said to her, "Sister Mary Kay Katherine, you have been here for 5 years. You may speak two words." Sister Mary Kay Katherine said, "Hard bed." "I'm sorry to hear that," the Priest said, "We will get you a better bed."
After another 5 years, Sister Mary Kay Katherine was called by the Priest. "You may say another two words, Sister Mary Kay Katherine. "Cold food," said Sister Mary Kay Katherine, and the Priest assured her that the food would be better in the future.
On her 15th anniversary at the monastery, the Priest again called Sister Mary Kay Katherine into his office. "You may say two words today." "I quit," said Sister Mary Kay Katherine. "It's probably best", said the Priest, "You've done nothing but bitch since you got here."
• Qualifications: Twin sister has accounting degree. • Salary requirements: Starting over due to recent bankruptcies. Need large bonus when starting job. • References: Bill, Tom, Eric. But I don’t know their phone numbers. --included on actual résumés
from Random Acts, by Bobby Stevenson For more wonderful stories, click here.
Some things remain with you forever. When I was ten years old, my father took me on a trip in an old battered car and caravan, and although I didn’t know it at the time, my father was dying. He was only forty years of age and he was dying of a brain tumour.
What can I tell you about me back then? That I was the only son of parents who never got around to marrying? That I lived with my two sisters and a cat and that despite not having any money, we lived in a house packed to the roof with love. Maybe that’s as good as it gets in anyone’s life.
My father was the gentlest of hearts and the kindest of men, and I’m not just saying that because he’s gone. I’m saying it because it was true. It was his strength and his weakness. My mother watched so many people taking advantage of his goodness, that in the end she put herself in the way of anyone trying to use him.
This made her seem hard but she was willing to put up with that, because that was what our family was always about – love. My parents had decided that when school was closed for the summer, Mum and the girls would go to London for a few days to see a show, while me and Dad would go north taking his old car hooked up to Granddad’s caravan. I knew Dad was probably hoping this would be a chance for us to talk, as he was always working and I was always in my bedroom being misunderstood.
Even at ten years of age I had no real idea how to enjoy myself. On that summer, that glorious summer, school finished and my life began. Dad drove Mum and the girls to the railway station and I sat on the front steps waiting, bag ready and caravan packed. I’ll always remember the ‘toot-toot-toot’ of my Dad on the car horn as he returned from the station, letting everyone in the street know that the boys were off on holiday. All those unused days were spread before us, waiting. If I’d thought that it was going to be a particularly difficult time sitting in the car with my Dad, I was wrong.
I had imagined him and me struggling to talk to each other and stumbling over words. I guess I’ve always made assumptions about things. I’ve worried and assumed – I suppose that’s what should be written on my headstone. There I go again. As we drove towards the coast, I felt ashamed of myself. Here was a man who knew all about my writings and about the books I’d read. He would steal himself into my room after he came home late from work, too late to wish me goodnight but long enough to kiss me on the forehead and absorb from the room who and what I was.
There was I knowing very little about him, except he was my father and he was rarely home. I don’t recall when he stopped the car but I do remember it getting dark. I had been telling him all about the characters in some Dickens novel when I must have fallen asleep in his arms. When I awoke, it was morning and the sun was fighting the condensation on the window. Dad had placed me in the back seat and covered me with his jacket. The car was freezing and as I sat up, I shivered. I wiped away mist from the side window and saw, that despite the sun, the sky and the sea were a cold blue, broken up by the foamy edges of the waves. We had parked at the edge of a cliff and Dad was sitting, staring - that was all he was doing - just staring. When I felt brave enough, I ventured outside to join him.
I’ll always remember his face that day, the wind had slapped his cheeks into a Santa Claus red and his eyes were watering, stung by the sea. You could almost imagine that he had been crying, and I wonder now, from all those years away, if he had been. He told me to sit next to him and he put his arm around me, “You, and me, son are going on an adventure”.
Now don’t get me wrong, I liked the sound of ‘adventure’ and I loved my father and felt safe with him but there was always a part of me that wanted to return to the protection of my bedroom, pull up my arms into my sleeves and wait on the next hurtful thing. Yeah, you’re right, I was one weird kid. As we came over the hill I could see it: Blackpool Tower. I had never seen anything so tall in all my life and was so excited that I forgot about my misgivings.
The place was alive with people who were swept up with enjoying life and buzzing with laughter. There were donkey rides by the sea, the odd uncle with a handkerchief on his head to keep the sun away and people breaking their teeth on sticks of rocks, slurping ice cream and getting pieces of candy floss stuck to their noses. Dad and I went down on to the beach and ate our fish and chips from a newspaper. I think it was the best fish and chips I ever tasted.
“That’s better.” said Dad. “What?” “You’re smiling, you’ve got a nice smile, you know. You should use it more often.” “Oh Dad.” “I’m just saying.” And do you know what? I felt that I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Just me and my Dad on the beach at Blackpool. “It’s my fault.” he said, sadly. “What is, Dad?” “The fact that you never smile, me and your Mum left you sitting too long in that room of yours.” “I like my room.” “No one likes their room.”
Dad parked the caravan down some quiet side street and told me to get washed and ready as he took a walk into town. When he returned, his breath smelt of beer and his clothes of cigarettes. “You’ll never guess what I’ve got in my pocket? Two tickets to see Arthur Askey at the Grand”
What a night that was, everyone laughing and singing along with The Bee Song. I looked over at my Dad and he was laughing so hard the tears were rolling down his face. God, I miss him. We had ice cream topped with raspberry sauce on the way back and I never once thought about my misgivings, not once. The next morning after a cup of tea and a bacon roll, we left Blackpool still singing the Bee Song, just me and my Dad. I can’t remember who saw the old lady first.
My Dad had stopped the car because I needed to pee again and I was hiding in the bushes. The woman was sitting on a bench and at first we thought she was just sleeping, but her head had rolled forwards and she was moaning. Dad put his ear close to listen to her breathing. “This isn’t good. We’ll need to get her to hospital.” I sat with her in the back seat of the car while she rested her head on my lap.
She reminded me of my Gran, I almost said “We won’t be long now Gran” when she moaned really loudly. The nurse brought Dad and me drinks as we sat in the corridor waiting on news. It almost felt like it was my Gran. “Are you family?” Dad explained to the doctor that we had found her sitting by the side of the road. “There was nothing we could do, I’m afraid. I’m sorry your trip was in vain. She passed away five minutes ago.” Dad got a bit annoyed but he kept it to himself until we were outside the hospital.
I thought maybe he was sad about the old lady dying, but really he was a bit angry. “Don’t you ever believe that what we did was in vain, son. Never think that. That poor lady would have died alone on that bench if we hadn’t stopped. As it is, you kept her company and there were people with her when she went. So it wasn’t in vain. Nothing is in vain. Always, always remember that. Everything matters”
I guess that’s the kind of thing that happens to a person when they come out of their room. As Dad drove south, I had the feeling that he just wanted to keep driving but as soon as it started to get dark, we stopped. Thinking back, I guess he couldn’t see too well in the dying light, something to do with his tumour.We set the caravan down in a field that overlooked Liverpool. What a city.
Looking over the way the setting sun painted the building tops, a crimson yellow. We were going into town tomorrow and Dad said he had a surprise. I don’t think I have ever been to a happier city than Liverpool that day. People were going to and fro but always laughing and joking. Some were singing, others whistling. I loved every minute of it; every blooming minute of it. “I’ve got a pal and he owes me a favour”, said Dad. I felt ashamed that I hadn’t even known that my father had any friends or who they were.
“He works at a club down Matthew Street. He says if we arrive early enough, he’ll get us in and you can hide under my coat.” I almost had misgivings again, almost wishing I was back in my safe, warm, bedroom - almost. We did what Dad said and he put me under his coat and the doorman, his pal, waved us past all the people waiting to get in. “We’ll need to keep you under cover young ‘un” said Bert, Dad’s pal, as he led me to a small room by the stairs where he gave me lemonade.
“We’ll come and get you when the band is ready” said my Dad. “I’m going to have a talk with Bert. You’ll be okay here?” I would be. I had just finished my drink when there was a knock at the door, followed by it opening. “Hey Paul, look what I’ve found, the Cavern has little people living under the stairs. What are you doing here, son?” I told him I was waiting on the band and that my Dad was coming to get me. “And what band would that be son?”
I shrugged and the man seemed to find that funny. His pal, Paul came over to have a look at me. “You’re right John, that is one of the little people. You’ve got to be lucky to see them” and then he rubbed my head. John said it was his band that was playing and I said I was sorry. He said not as sorry as he was and asked did I want to come to their dressing room? Although on second thoughts, John said, there was probably more room under the stairs. So I went with John and Paul and met the other two, George and Pete.
They were all fooling around and didn’t seem to be in anyway nervous. John asked me what I wanted to do “That is, when you stop being one of the little people.” I told him I wanted to be a writer and he said that was probably the best job in the world next to being in a band, especially his band, and he went into his jacket and gave me his pen. “If anyone asks, tell them John Lennon gave it to you.”
That night I watched John, Paul, George and Pete play the most wonderful music I had ever heard or will ever hear. I didn’t know it then, but a few weeks later Ringo replaced Pete. I never got to meet him. My Dad died, just after Christmas, that year. He left me with the best present that I have ever received in my life. He took me out of my room and locked the door so I couldn’t go back in.
*Random ActsSo what if I got hurt? That was the price you paid for being out there, that was the price we all paid, and the other thing he gave me was the belief that nothing is ever in vain, nothing. On the thirtieth anniversary of John Lennon’s death, I flew to New York and walked through Central Park and climbed the hill to Strawberry Fields. There was a little boy about ten and his Dad listening to the music of Lennon and I took out the pen and I handed it to them: “John Lennon gave me this.” Everything matters.
A man and his wife were working in their garden one day. The man looked over at his wife and said, "Your butt is getting really big, I mean really big. I bet your butt is bigger than the barbecue grill."
With that he proceeded to get a measuring tape and measure the grill, then went over to where his wife was working and measured his wife's bottom. "Yup, I was right -- your butt is two inches wider than the barbecue grill!"
The woman chose to ignore her husband. Later that night, in bed, the husband was feeling a little frisky. He made some advances toward his wife, who completely brushed him off. "What's wrong?" he asked. She answered, "Do you really think I'm going to fire up this big-ass grill for one little weenie?"