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IN THIS ISSUE

• Geoff Goodship has some good advice for aspiring organ donors
• Don Henderson forwards a poem about successive school reunions
• Verda Cook shares this story about a rancher and his faithful dog
• Miriam Ockenden tells the tale of precocious little Bruce
• Gerrit de Leeuw´s story is about a simple tap on the back
• Jack Peaker reminds us of ways to recognize strokes
• Elana forwards a story about guide dogs
• From Lew´s News, a tale of an unfortunate misdiagnosis
• This week´s sites are recommended by Jack Peaker and Tom Williamson

Geoff Goodship offers some personal advice on how to remain

AN ORGAN DONOR IN GOOD STANDING

I´m lying on my back to compose this. My back is too sore to lie flat, lie still, or sit in a chair for more than ten minutes. How did I get this way? I didn´t lift anything heavy yesterday, or the day before. I haven´t attempted to learn the cha cha or the meringay. I don´t drink enough to make a 10 year old giggle. It can´t be related to the great weather we´re enjoying at present. It just makes no sense why there are occasional days when my back screams at me. My friend Jean suggests "poor engineering". Could be, but I think it must have something to do with athletic endeavors in my past. So here´s advice straight from my back to all the budding athletes out there.

1) Don´t play baseball. Take the position of catcher as an example. Catchers get hit by the ball, hit by the bat, hit by the batter, and hit by runners trying to steal home. Catchers get 90 percent of the contact in baseball. If you must, play outfield and preferably left field. It´s even better if you leave your glove at home for you will probably get to rest on the bench.

2) Boxing is perhaps the ultimate athletic contest but it´s a no-no if you want to be a healthy senior. The object is to hit and avoid being hit. Adrenalin and the survival instinct ensure the blows don´t hurt at the time but they will, perhaps 40 years later when you´ve passed 60. Most amateur boxers quit the sport when their brains mature sufficiently. They leave the sport with hand injuries, thick eyebrows, and the occasional nose offset. While the nose job offers a certain look of distinction and even hints at an interesting past, the hand injuries will most likely turn into arthritis later in life. It´s hard to tell if you got it from boxing or playing catcher in baseball.

3) My first sport was gymnastics. When I was eight or nine I entered a May Day sack race. With both feet in the sack, I made three huge jumps and was in first place before going down. By the time I got up, I was last. Once more I managed only three leaps before tumbling. This time I fell forward and rolled in a summersault. When I got up I was in the lead again, so I figured that I should stay down and keep rolling. There was some dispute at the finish line but by keeping my feet in the sack I learned I was within the rules and had won. One judge suggested I should get extra points for style.

4) Definitely avoid rugby: I wouldn´t walk across the street to watch the fool game but I´d run a mile (if my back would let me) to play it. Injuries from rugby tend to be related to the position you play, although knee injuries are common to all rugby addicts. If you have played in the scrum, there is a good chance your spine has been shortened, your neck twisted, you have at least one shoulder that´s a bit wonky, and you may have funny ears.

5) Speaking of shoulders: best avoid tennis. Rotator cuff problems are directly linked to the number of hard serves you make before the shoulder drives you nuts. Rotator cuff repair is not fatal, but it will teach you to drink using the opposite arm and you´ll learn to sleep on the non-surgical shoulder. Tennis also involves pounding your feet and knees on an asphalt surface to a degree that boarders on suicide. I figure that our knees are like tires. There are only so many miles on them before they wear out. It has very little to do with the "brand" of knees you were given. If you "drive carefully", avoiding quick stops and starts, your knees will last much longer, but you must then also learn to congratulate your opponent on winning more frequently. Tennis laced with testosterone is why I have a metal and plastic knee now.

More tips next week

Don Henderson sends this poem:

THE CLASS REUNION

Every ten years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it´ll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.

I´ll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
Who´d guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who´s always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we´d decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least" now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.

They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts, and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we´d all gone to pot.

It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren´t dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.

And now I can´t wait; they´ve set the date;
Our fiftieth is coming, I´m told.
It should be a ball, they´ve rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.

Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker´s been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I´ve bought a new wig and glass eye.

I´m feeling quite hearty, and I´m ready to party
I´m gonna dance ´til dawn´s early light.
It´ll be lots of fun; but I just hope that there´s one
Other person who can make it that night.

- Author Unknown

Verda Cook forwards this story about

THE SHEEP RANCHER AND HIS DOG

On the prairies of Montana there lived a rancher with an old sheep dog. The critter had been around for a long time, and had finally aged into worthlessness. So the rancher tried to think of some humane way of dispatching the mangy creature into whatever dog heaven might lay beyond. He appeared too durable to succumb to a single bullet, and the master´s heart was too soft to inflict it anyhow. He finally concluded that dynamite was the most merciful way to speed the creature off into eternity.

With his plan well formulated, he took a stick of the explosive in his hand, whistled to the dog, and took him for a long walk in the grasslands. The dog followed without hesitation, certain that he was about to participate in another adventure with his beloved owner.

When they arrived at a safe distance from anyone who could be harmed by the expected blast, the rancher fastened the stick to the tail of the animal, lit the fuse, instructed the dog to "sit," and quickly walked away to await the explosion at a discreet distance. His well-laid plot, however, proved to be one of the most terrifying experiences of his long life.

He had not counted on the persistent affection of the dog. So when he headed for home, the dog followed closely behind, tail wagging and the fuse burning. Wild with fright, the rancher broke into a run. Enjoying the romp enormously, the dog stayed right at his heels. The farmer flew across the fields, stumbled onto his front porch, tore the door open and slammed it shut behind him just in time to hear the teeth-rattling roar.

When the dust (and his nerves) had settled, he opened the heavy door, looked out, and discovered that the porch had been blown to pieces. The dog, however, was still intact - minus a small segment of his tail.

ED. NOTE: Served him right, for trying to blow up an old and faithful servant!

Catherine Green forwards these quotes

ALL ABOUT WIVES

I recently read that love is entirely a matter of chemistry. That must be why my wife treats me like toxic waste. - David Bissonette

When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her. - Sacha Guitry

After marriage, husband and wife become two sides of a coin; they just can´t face each other, but still they stay together. - Hemant Joshi

By all means marry. If you get a good wife, you´ll be happy. If you get a bad one, you´ll become a philosopher. -Socrates

Woman inspires us to great things, and prevents us from achieving them. - Dumas

I had some words with my wife, and she had some paragraphs with me. - Anonymous

"Some people ask the secret of our long marriage. We take time to go to a restaurant two times a week. A little candlelight dinner, soft music and dancing. She goes Tuesdays, I go Fridays." - Henry Youngman

"I don´t worry about terrorism. I was married for two years." - Sam Kinison

"There´s a way of transferring funds that is even faster than electronic banking. It´s called marriage." - James Holt McGavran

"I´ve had bad luck with both my wives. The first one left me and the second one didn´t." - Patrick Murray

Two secrets to keep your marriage brimming: 1. Whenever you´re wrong, admit it, 2. Whenever you´re right, shut up. - Nash

The most effective way to remember your wife´s birthday is to forget it once. - Anonymous

You know what I did before I married? Anything I wanted to. - Henny Youngman

My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met. - Rodney Dangerfield

A good wife always forgives her husband when she´s wrong. - Milton Berle

Marriage is the only war where one sleeps with the enemy. - Anonymous

A man inserted an ad in the classifieds: "Wife wanted". Next day he received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: "You can have mine." - Anonymous

First Guy (proudly): "My wife´s an angel!" Second Guy: "You´re lucky, mine´s still alive ." - Anonymous

ED. NOTE: It´s obvious why some of these quotes are from ´Anonymous´

Miriam Ockenden sends this story about

ADORABLE LITTLE BRUCE

Little Bruce and Jenny are only 10 years old, but they just know that they are in love. One day they decide that they want to get married, so Bruce goes to Jenny´s father to ask him for her hand.

Bruce bravely walks up to him and says, "Mr. Smith, me and Jenny are in love and I want to ask you for her hand in marriage."

Thinking that this was just the cutest thing, Mr. Smith replies, "Well, Bruce, you are only 10. Where will you two live?"

Without even taking a moment to think about it, Bruce replies, "In Jenny´s room. It´s bigger than mine and we can both fit in there nicely."

Still thinking this is just adorable, Mr. Smith says with a huge grin, "Okay then how will you live? You´re not old enough to get a job. You´ll need to support Jenny."

Again, Bruce! instantly replies, "Our allowance. Jenny makes five bucks a week and I make 10 bucks a week. That´s about 60 bucks a month and that should do us just fine."

By this time Mr. Smith is a little shocked that Bruce has put so much thought into this. He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with something that Bruce won´t have an answer to. After a second, Mr. Smith says,"Well, Bruce, it seems like you have got everything all figured out. I just have one more question for you. What will you do if the two of you should have little ones of your own?"

Bruce just shrugs his shoulders and says, "Well, we´ve been lucky so far...."

Mr. Smith doesn´t think the little shit is adorable anymore.

Gerrit de Leeuw forwards this story of

JUST A TAP

'

A passenger in a taxi leaned over to ask the driver a question and tapped him on the shoulder.

The driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up over the curb, and stopped just inches from a large plate glass window.

For a few moments everything was silent in the cab, and then the still shaking driver said, "I´m sorry, but you scared the daylights out of me."

The frightened passenger apologized to the driver and said he didn´t realize a mere tap on the shoulder could frighten him so much.

The driver replied, "No, no, I´m sorry, it´s entirely my fault. Today is my first day driving a cab. I´ve been driving a hearse for the last 25 years."

Jack Peaker forwards advice we have had before, but which is worth repeating:

RECOGNIZING A STROKE

Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer severe brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke. Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:

S * Ask the individual to smile;

T * Ask the person to talk, to speak a simple sentence coherently - i.e: It is sunny out today;

R * Ask him or her to raise both arms.

NOTE: Another sign of a stroke is this: Ask the person to stick out his tongue. If the tongue is ´crooked´, if it goes to one side or the other, that is also an indication of a stroke. If he or she has trouble with any one of these tasks, call 911 immediately, and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.

A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this e-mail sends it to 10 people, you can bet that at least one life will be saved.

Elana sends this story of

THE GUIDE DOGS

Two guys are walking down the street with their dogs. One guy has a German shepherd, the other guy has a chihuahua. Suddenly, it starts to rain and they guy with the German shepherd says, "Hey, let´s go into this bar!"

The other guy says, "We can´t go in there with the dogs!"

The first guy says, "Sure we can! We just pretend we´re blind. Watch!"

He goes into the bar and the bartender says, "You can´t bring that dog in here!"

The man says, "He´s my guide dog!"

The bartender lets him come in. So the other guy waits in the rain, then figures he´ll give it a try.

He walks in and the bartender says, "Hey, you can´t bring that dog in here!"

The man says, "He´s my guide dog!"

To which the bartender says, "You got a chihuahua as a guide dog"?

The man frowns and says, "They gave me a chihuahua?"

From Lew´s News comes this story about

A MEDICAL DEFINITION

Two Jewish sisters-in-law meet on the street. Inka says to Golda, "Such news I´ve got for you. My Irving is finally getting married. He´s engaged to a wonderful Jewish girl but he thinks the poor thing may have some strange illness called ´herpes´."

"Can he catch it? asks Golda.

"I don´t know" says Inka. "I don´t know what it is."

"Listen," says Golda, "I have a medical encyclopedia at the house. I´ll look it up and call you."

So Golda goes home and looks up ´herpes´, then she calls Inka. "I found it, I found it," she says, "and you don´t have anything to worry about. The encyclopedia says it´s a disease of the gentiles."

THIS WEEK´S RECOMMENDED SITES

Jack Peaker suggests these:

Sea: http://www.seacology.org/index.cfm

Photos: http://www.gigapxl.org/gallery.htm

Space: http://snipurl.com/w8s8

~~~~~

Tom Williamson sends the url for the Foundation for Global Community:

http://www.globalcommunity.org/flash/index.shtml

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You can also read this newsletter online at http://members.shaw.ca/vjsansum/and http://www.nw-seniorsonline.org/stories.html

Our culture today is one of the most drug-oriented cultures in history. We go by the millions to our doctor (or our dealer) for pills to pep us up, calm us down, wake us up, put us to sleep, relax our tensions, make us forget, or enlighten us. As a whole our cultural attitudes toward drugs are irrational to the point of absurdity. We mightily praise some drugs whose detrimental effects are enormous and well known, such as alcohol, and condemn other drugs about which we know very little. Scientific knowledge about drugs has generally been of little consequence in affecting social attitudes and usage.