Monthly Archives: December 2012

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 31, 2007

May you get a clean bill of health from your dentist, your cardiologist, your gastro-enterologist, your urologist, your proctologist, your podiatrist, your psychiatrist, your plumber and the I.R.S.

May your hair, your teeth, your face-lift, your abs and your stocks not fall; and may your blood pressure, your triglycerides, your cholesterol, your white blood count and your mortgage interest not rise.

May New Year’s Eve find you seated around the table, together with your beloved family and cherished friends. May you find the food better, the environment quieter, the cost much cheaper, and the pleasure much more fulfilling than anything else you might ordinarily do that night.

May what you see in the mirror delight you, and what others see in you delight them. May someone love you enough to forgive your faults, be blind to your blemishes, and tell the world about your virtues.

May the telemarketers wait to make their sales calls until you finish dinner, may the commercials on TV not be louder than the program you have been watching, and may your check book and your budget balance – and include generous amounts for charity.

May you remember to say “I love you” at least once a day to your spouse, your child, your parent, your siblings; but not to your secretary, your nurse, your masseuse, your hairdresser or your tennis instructor.

May your Coffee and Tea always be hot and rich with flavor just the way you love it!!!!

And may we live in a world at peace and with the awareness of God’s love in every sunset, every flower’s unfolding petals, every baby’s smile, every lover’s kiss, and every wonderful, astonishing, miraculous beat of our heart.

Author Unknown (Except for a little twist from Kenny T /hint coffee 
& Tea)   Please comment if you know the author so credit 
can be awarded.
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 29, 2010

I had not really planned on taking a trip this time of year, and yet I found myself packing rather hurriedly.

This trip was going to be unpleasant and I knew in advance that no real good would come of it.

I’m talking about my annual “Guilt Trip.”

I got tickets to fly there on “WISHIHAD” airlines. It was an extremely short flight.

I got my baggage, which I could not check. I chose to carry it myself all the way. It was weighted down with a thousand memories of what might have been.

No one greeted me as I entered the terminal to the Regret City International Airport. I say international because people from all over the world come to this dismal town.

As I checked into the Last Resort Hotel, I noticed that they would be hosting the year’s most important event, the Annual Pity Party.

I wasn’t going to miss that great social occasion. Many of the towns leading citizens would be there.

First, there would be the Done family, you know, Should Have, Would Have and Could Have.

Then came the I Had family.

You probably know ol’ Wish and his clan.

Of course, the Opportunities would be present, Missed and Lost.

The biggest family would be the Yesterday’s. There are far too many of them to count, but each one would have a very sad story to share.

Then Shattered Dreams would surely make and appearance.

And It’s Their Fault would regale us with stories (excuses) about how things had failed in his life, and each story would be loudly applauded by Don’t Blame Me and I Couldn’t Help It.

Well, to make a long story short, I went to this depressing party knowing that there would be no real benefit in doing so. And, as usual, I became very depressed.

But as I thought about all of the stories of failures brought back from the past, it occurred to me that all of this trip and subsequent “pity party” could be cancelled by ME!

I started to truly realize that I did not have to be there. I didn’t have to be depressed.

One thing kept going through my mind, I can’t change yesterday, but I do have the power to make today a wonderful day.

I can be happy, joyous, fulfilled, encouraged, as well as encouraging. Knowing this, I left the City of Regret immediately and left no forwarding address.

Am I sorry for mistakes I’ve made in the past? YES! But there is no physical way to undo them.

So, if you’re planning a trip back to the City of Regret, please cancel all your reservations now. Instead, take a trip to a place called, Starting Again.

I liked it so much that I have now taken up permanent residence there. My neighbors, the I Forgive Myselfs and the New Starts are so very helpful.

By the way, you don’t have to carry around heavy baggage, because the load is lifted from your shoulders upon arrival.

God bless you in finding this great town. If you can find it — it’s in your own heart — please look me up.

I live on ICANDOIT street.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
 so credit can be awarded.
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 27, 2007

Let me not live a life that’s free,
From “THE THINGS” that draw me close to THEE-

For how can I ever hope to heal,
The wounds of others, I do not feel?

If my eyes are dry and I never weep,
How do I know, when the hurt is deep?

If my heart is cold and it never bleeds,
How can I tell, what my sister needs?

For when my ears are deaf to the beggar’s plea,
And we close our eyes and refuse to see.

And we steel our hearts and harden our mind,
And we count it a weakness, whenever we’re kind,

We are no longer following THE FATHER’S WAY,
Or seeking His guidance from day to day.

For, without “crosses to carry” and “burdens to bear,”
We dance through a life that is frothy and “fair”.

And “chasing the rainbow” we have no desire,
For “roads that are rough” and “realms that are Higher”.

So spare me no heartache or sorrow, dear Lord,
For the heart that is hurt, reaps the richest reward.

And God enters the heart that is broken with sorrow,
As He opens the door to a BRIGHTER TOMORROW.

For only through tears can we recognize,
The suffering that lies in another’s eyes.

Author - Helen Steiner Rice
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 28, 2009

The clock in the hallway sounded 12 times; midnight, Christmas Eve. Playing softly through the speakers mounted above the nurses’ station Christmas music filtered into those rooms with open doors.

The older lady sat in her chair by the window. A thick comforter wrapped around her frail frame. Colors flashed and spun along the walls of her room from the gaily lit Christmas tree in the walkway, just outside her door.

Lora gazed past the chilled windowpane, at the snow flurries dancing on an errant breeze. But the vision that filled her eyes was that of a certain yellow Lab who had become her most treasured visitor.

His name was Mason and he had once been Lora’s life companion. When she became too ill to care for him, her neighbors, newlyweds Tyler and Kelli, had volunteered to take him in. Mason had always nurtured a fondness for the couple and quickly became a member of their family, while spending many hours with Lora. Happy hours they were, sitting in Lora’s garden as the sun warmed them both. Or in Lora’s den, a fire crackling in the hearth as both canine and human napped in its cozy glow.

Lora had been in the retirement home for nearly three years, and Mason always visited her on Christmas day. She looked past her reflection in the window glass and smiled. Not too long now until she’d get to see Mason.

Closing her eyes she snuggled into the warmth of the comforter, her mind playing back well remembered scenes. Mason loved to fetch and come every Christmas he would gingerly pull a glass ball off their tree, trot over to her and drop his treasure in her lap. Lora never knew why he was fascinated with the Christmas ball decorations, but she had come to anticipate this loving gesture from Mason.

Christmas, the year before, when Mason came with Tyler and Kelli to visit, he had proudly presented her with a shiny red ball. Moments after he had brought the decoration to Lora, a nurse padded through the doorway, a searching expression on her face. Lora held up the glass ball and the nurse had smiled and shook her head. Mason grinned and everyone laughed. Mason had plucked it from the Christmas tree in the hallway.

Comforted by her rememberings, Lora fell asleep as the snow tapped softly on her windowpane.


Their guests had left an hour ago and it was just after midnight when Kelli and Tyler had headed for the comfort of their bed. Their party had been marvelous but it had left them both tuckered out and the thought of sleep was welcome.

Mason, too, had enjoyed the party, entertaining guests. Seeking out and giving affections. Bestowing sloppy kisses on the children, and for the adults Mason proffered his paw. It was the closest he came to giving them a hug, without fear of knocking them down.

Kelli and Tyler had stopped telling their guests that Mason would fetch them a Christmas ornament from the tree. For in the two Christmases that had passed, Mason did not comply. It seemed this particular “gift” was given to one person only — Lora.

As the couple made their way up the stairway, Mason followed close behind, his long tail wagging happily. A smile on his face, he panted, tongue out to the side of his muzzle. An expression of utter joy on his furry face.

As Kelli and Tyler settled in for the night, Mason circled three times, then snugged down into his soft bed on the floor, at the foot of their bed.

Christmas morning arrived as the winter sun splintered through the blinds of the bedroom window. Tyler groggily stumbled toward the bathroom and stopped short. Something was not right… He turned ’round and his eyes fell on the sight of his wife at Mason’s bedside. Tears wet her cheeks as she sobbed, Mason’s head held gently in her hands. Mason was limp, his once animated face now lifeless.

Tyler swallowed back a lump in his throat. He walked numbly over to his wife and Mason, dropped down on his knees and wept into Mason’s soft fur.


Lora was awakened due to the persistent nudging of her hand by a cold, wet nose. Whiskers tickled her wrist and she smiled as she opened her eyes. There in her lap lay a multi-colored glass ball. And staring at her was the happiest face she could ever remember. That of Mason’s. Lora gingerly cupped the ornament in one hand as she stroked the broad yellow brow of her beloved Mason. She bent down over her friend and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Mason.”

The nurse padded quietly into Lora’s room to find the woman, lifeless, still wrapped in the comforter. In her lap was a glass ball–the one she noticed missing from the Christmas tree earlier that night.

Outside the frosty windowpane, the wintry sun sparkled on new snow.


by Kathy Pippig Harris
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 25, 2009

On this special night, Thomas was sitting on the floor near the Christmas tree. Along with his pet Max, he gazed at the beautiful shining star at its top. Thomas looked at the gifts under the tree. He thought about a wonderful surprise which always made Christmas so special.

His day-dreaming stopped as he heard voices of Mom and Dad behind him. “Would you please help us set up the Nativity scene, Thomas?” Thomas got up from the floor. He watched as mom removed the Nativity items from a large box. Mom lifted something from the box that looked like a building. In answer to the curious look from Thomas, Dad said “This is the stable.” Thomas listened as he was told about the stable. It was a place where animals, like horses and cows were kept.. like a barn. “Why was Jesus born in a barn?” asked Thomas. As they put the stable in place, dad answered the question,… “When Jesus’ mother and father came to Bethlehem, there was no other place for them to stay. There was so many people in the city at that time. The government had told all the people to go to their hometowns to be counted. These were very difficult days, because it was so close to the time for Mary to have her baby.” Mom reached into the box and brought out the figured of the sheep and a donkey. These were placed in the stable. “Here is the figures of Jesus’ father, Joseph. And His mother, Mary,” said Dad.

Thomas took the figures and placed them in the center of the stable. “While Mary and Joseph were in the stable that night, Jesus was born,” said Dad. Then Thomas again reached into the box and unwrapped something labeled “MANGER”. “What is a manger?” asked Thomas. Mom explained that people placed food for the animals in the manger. “But on that special night long ago… Mary and Joseph filled that with straw and laid the baby Jesus there,” said Dad.

Searching through the box, Thomas looked for the baby. Soon, he smiled as he gently lifted the figure of the baby Jesus. He placed the baby in the manger. Thomas wondered what it must have been like to be there. As mom reached back into the box, Thomas watched as other figures were removed. Dad told him of the shepherds, who raised the sheep, were there also.

Thomas felt his eyelids become heavy. He was very tired, Thomas tried to stay awake. His eyes blinked as he stared at the tree-top star. He tried to listen to his mom as she told about the shepherds came to be there. Thomas yawned… The star became a blur, and he could here his dad,… “The shepherds were watching their flock of sheep that night. The were near the city of Bethlehem. While they were sitting around, something amazing happened,

…aa-nn-dd” … Suddenly a flash of bright light forced Thomas’s eyes open. But, the star was no longer on the tree-top. It was shining brightly in the dark sky … so much brighter than all the other stars!
In the midst of that flash of light, Thomas saw a figure of … what? … an angel? And then he looked at his clothes. He had a robe … not blue jeans, and sandals… not sneakers! His pet Max was now a sheep! And he was a shepherd! It was clear to Thomas he was not longer at home.

The angel spoke to Thomas and the others, and said there was very good news … The baby Jesus had been born in Bethlehem! He was God’s own Son! He was to be Christ the Lord. He was to become our Savior … God had always promised that this would happen someday. Thomas heard the excited voices of the others.

The angel faded into the night sky, and the star became brighter. It was as if it pointed to that stable in Bethlehem. He heard the other shepherds say that they must go and see this great thing which had happened in Bethlehem. Before Thomas knew it, he was standing with the others in the Bethlehem stable. He could see Joseph and Mary looking down at the straw-filled manger. Resting in the center was a tiny baby, Jesus. As Thomas watched it was as if Mary motioned for him to come closer. As he moved to the side of the manger, Thomas could hear the others praying and praising God for this miracle. Trying to see the face of the baby, Thomas reached out and removed some straw.

As he did this, there was another flash of brilliant light. Thomas heard Mom’s voice “What a picture that will be!” As his eyes opened, Thomas again saw the tree-top star. He saw his old familiar blue jeans, sneakers, and his pet Max. But, there was something else! Mom and Dad looked down at Thomas’s hand and asked “Where did you get that straw, Thomas?”

Unable to answer, Thomas looked at the straw in his hand. The he gazed again at the star atop the tree. Without a word, Thomas placed the straw beneath the tree. It was a sign of the greatest of all gifts … the reason Christmas is celebrated. This Christmas would have a new meaning for Thomas. He has his own miracle … one that would always remind him of the miracle of Jesus’ birth.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know 
the author so credit can be awarded.
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 21, 2012

Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at the McAllister Mall in Saint John. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.

Who is this?” asked Santa, smiling. “Your friend?

“Yes, Santa,’ he replied. “My sister, Sarah, who is very sick,” he said sadly.

Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!” the child exclaimed. “She misses you,” he added softly.

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy’s face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.

When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.

“What is it?” Santa asked warmly.

“Well, I know it’s really too much to ask you, Santa, but..” the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa’s elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.

“The girl in the photograph… my granddaughter well, you see … she has leukemia and isn’t expected to make it even through the holidays,” she said through tear-filled eyes. “Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That’s all she’s asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa.”

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. “What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying,” he thought with a sinking heart, “This is the least I can do.”

When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to the Hospital.

“Why?” Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah’s grandmother earlier that day.

“C’mon…..I’ll take you there.” Rick said softly. Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.

They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said, he would wait out in the hall.

Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah in the bed.

The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl’s brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah’s mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah’s thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah’s aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with a weary sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.

Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”

“Santa!” shrieked little Sarah, weakly as she tried to escape her bed to run to him IV tubes intact.

Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug.

A child the tender age of his own son — 9 years old — gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But, all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of, huge blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah’s face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.

As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa’s shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering “Thank you” as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she’d been a very good girl that year.

As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl’s mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah’s bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.

“Oh, yes, Santa… I do!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I’m going to ask angels watch over you.” he said. Laying one hand on the child’s head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that, God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing, softly, “Silent Night, Holy Night….all is calm, all is bright.” The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all.

When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah’s frail, small hands in his own. “Now, Sarah,” he said authoritatively, “you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at McAllister Mall this time next year!”

He knew it was risky proclaiming that to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he “had” to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could — not dolls or games or toys — but the gift of HOPE.

“Yes, Santa!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

Out in the hall, the minute Santa’s eyes met Rick’s, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.

Sarah’s mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa’s side to thank him.
“My only child is the same age as Sarah,” he explained quietly. “This is the least I could do.” They nodded with understanding and hugged him.

One year later, Santa was again back on the set in Saint John for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.

“Hi, Santa! Remember me?!”

“Of course, I do,” Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a “good” Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the “only” child in the world at that moment.

“You came to see me in the hospital last year!”

Santa’s jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. “Sarah!” he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy — much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah’s mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.

That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.

He had witnessed –and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about — this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, “Thank you, Father. ‘Tis a very, Merry Christmas!

--by Susan Leonard
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 20, 2012

About a week before Christmas the family bought a new nativity scene. When they unpacked it they found 2 figures of the Baby Jesus. “Someone must have packed this wrong,” the mother said, counting out the figures. “We have one Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two lambs, a donkey, a cow, an angel and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some set down at the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have 2.”

“You two run back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra Jesus. Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes saying that if a set is missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126. Put on your warm coats, it’s freezing cold out there.”

The manager of the store copied down mother’s message and the next time they were in the store they saw the cardboard sign that read, “If you’re missing Baby Jesus, call 7126.” All week long they waited for someone to call. Surely, they thought, someone was missing that important figurine. Each time the phone rang mother would say, “I’ll bet that’s about Jesus,” but it never was.

Father tried to explain there are thousands of these scattered over the country and the figurine could be missing from a set in Florida or Texas or California. Those packing mistakes happen all the time. He suggested just put the extra Jesus back in the box and forget about it.

“Put Baby Jesus back in the box! What a terrible thing to do,” said the children. “Surely someone will call,” mother said. “We’ll just keep the two of them together in the manger until someone calls.”

When no call had come by 5:00 on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that father “just run down to the store” to see if there were any sets left. “You can see them right through the window, over on the counter,” she said. “If they are all gone, I’ll know someone is bound to call tonight.”

“Run down to the store?” father thundered. “It’s 15 below zero out there!”

“Oh, Daddy, we’ll go with you,” Tommy and Mary began to put on their coats. Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered. Tommy and Mary ran ahead as father reluctantly walked out in the cold. Mary got to the store first and pressed her nose up to the store window. “They’re all gone, Daddy,” she shouted. “Every set must be sold.”

“Hooray,” Tommy said. “The mystery will now be solved tonight!”

Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on his heel and headed back home. When they got back into the house they noticed that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine. “Someone must have called and she went out to deliver the figurine,” my father reasoned, pulling off his boots. “You kids get ready for bed while I wrap mother’s present.”

Then the phone rang. Father yelled “answer the phone and tell ’em we found a home for Jesus.” But it was mother calling with instructions for us to come to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three blankets, a box of cookies and some milk. “Now what has she gotten us into?” my father groaned as we bundled up again. “205 Chestnut. Why that’s across town. Wrap that milk up good in the blankets or it will turn to ice before we get there. Why can’t we all just get on with Christmas? It’s probably 20 below out there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things to do on a night like this.”

When they got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street it was the darkest one on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room and, the moment we set foot on the porch steps, my mother opened the door and shouted, “They’re here, Oh thank God you got here, Ray! You kids take those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the couch. I’ll take the milk and cookies.”

“Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?” my father asked. “We have just walked through below zero weather with the wind in our faces all the way.”

“Never mind all that now,” my mother interrupted. “There isn’t any heat in this house and this young mother is so upset she doesn’t know what to do. Her husband walked out on her and those poor little children will have a very bleak Christmas, so don’t you complain. I told her you could fix that oil furnace in a jiffy.”

My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm the milk while my brother and I wrapped up the five little children who were huddled together on the couch. The children’s mother explained to my father that her husband had  run off, taking bedding, clothing, and almost every piece of furniture, but she had been doing all right until the furnace broke down.

“I been doin’ washin’ and ironin’ for people and cleanin’ the five and dime,” she said. “I saw your number every day there, on those boxes on the counter. When the furnace went out, that number kept going’ through my mind. 7162 7162. Said on the box that if a person was missin’ Jesus, they should call you. That’s how I knew you were good Christian people, willin’ to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me, too. So I stopped at the grocery store tonight and I called your misses. I’m not missin’ Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am missin’ heat. I have no money to fix that furnace.”

“Okay, Okay,” said father. “You’ve come to the right place. Now let’s see. You’ve got a little oil burner over there in the dining room. Shouldn’t be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I’ll look it over, see what it needs.”

Mother came into the living room carrying a plate of cookies and warm milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee table, I noticed the figure of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the table. It was the only sign of Christmas in the house. The children stared wide-eyed with wonder at the plate of cookies my mother set before them.

Father finally got the oil burner working but said, “You need more oil. I’ll make a few calls tonight and get some oil. Yes sir, you came to the right place”, father grinned.

On the way home father did not complain about the cold weather and had barely set foot inside the door when he was on the phone. “Ed, hey, how are ya, Ed?”

“Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here. I know you’ve got that pick-up truck. Do you still have some oil in that barrel on your truck? You do?”

By this time the rest of the family were pulling clothes out of their closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after their bedtime when they were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs, three lamps, blankets and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, father let them ride along in the back of the truck. No one ever did call about the missing figure in the nativity set, but as I grow older I realize that it wasn’t a packing mistake at all.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know 
the author so credit can be awarded.
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