Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. "Guess what, Mum," he shouted, and then said those words that remain a lesson to me: "I've been chosen to clap and cheer.”

- Marie Curling

Roles - and how we play them

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A little girl whose parents had died lived with her grandmother and slept in an upstairs bedroom.
One night, there was a fire in the house and the grandmother perished while trying to rescue the child. The fire spread quickly, and the first floor of the house was soon engulfed in flames.
Neighbors called the fire department, then stood helplessly by, unable to enter the house because flames blocked all the entrances. The little girl appeared at an upstairs window, crying for help, just as word spread among the crowd that firefighters would be delayed a few minutes because they were all at another fire.


Suddenly, a man appeared with a ladder, put it up against the side of the house and disappeared inside. When he reappeared, he had the little girl in his arms. He delivered the child to the waiting arms below, then disappeared into the night.
An investigation revealed that the child had no living relatives, and weeks later a meeting was held to determine who would take the child into their home and bring her up.
A teacher said she would like to raise the child. She pointed out that she could ensure her a good education. A farmer offered her an upbringing on his farm. He pointed out that living on a farm was healthy and satisfying. Others spoke, giving their reasons why it was to the child's advantage to live with them. Finally, the town's richest resident arose and said:
"I can give this child all the advantages that you have mentioned here, plus money and everything that money can buy.”
Throughout all this, the child remained silent, her eyes on the floor.
"Does anyone else want to speak?" asked the meeting chairman.
A man came forward from the back of the hall. His gait was slow and he seemed in pain. When he got to the front of the room, he stood directly before the little girl and held out his arms. The crowd gasped. His hand and
arms were terribly scarred.
The child cried out:
"This is the man who rescued me!”
With a leap, she threw her arms around the man's neck, holding on for dear life, just as she had that fateful night. She buried her face on his shoulder and sobbed for a few moments. Then she looked up and smiled at him.
"This meeting is adjourned," said the chairman.

Where I’m belonging

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The cruise ship was crowded with people off for three days of pleasure. Ahead of me in the passageway walked a tiny woman in brown slacks, her shoulders hunched, her white hair cut in a bob.
From the ship's intercom came a familiar tune - "Begin the Beguine." And suddenly, a wonderful thing happened. The woman, unaware anyone was behind her, did a quick and graceful dance step - back, shuffle, slide.

As she reached the door to the dining salon, she re-assembled her dignity, and stepped soberly through.
Younger people often think folks my age are beyond romance, dancing or dreams. They see us as age has shaped us; camouflaged by wrinkles, thick waists and gray hair.
They don't see the people who live inside.
No one would ever know that I am still the skinny girl who grew up in a leafy suburb of Boston. Inside, I still think of myself as the youngest child in a happy family headed by a mother of great beauty and a father of unfailing good cheer.
And I am still the romantic teenager who longed for love, the young adult who aspired to social respectability - but whom shall I tell?
We are all like the woman in the ship's passageway, in whom the music still echoes. We are the sum of all the lives we once lived. We show the grownup part, but inside we are still the laughing children, the shy teens, the dream-filled youths. There still exists, most real, the matrix of all we were or ever yearned to be.
In our hearts we still hear "Begin the Beguine" - and when we are alone, we dance.

- Beth Ashley

An ageless heart

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Thomas Edison's laboratory was virtually destroyed by fire in December, 1914. Although the damage exceeded two million dollars, the buildings were only insured for $238,000 because they were made of concrete and thought to be fireproof. Much of Edison's life's work went up in spectacular flames that December night.

At the height of the fire, Edison's 24-year-old son, Charles, frantically searched for his father among the smoke and debris. He finally found him, calmly watching the scene, his red face glowing in the reflection, his white hair blowing in the wind.

"My heart ached for him," said Charles. "He was 67 - no longer a young man to start life when everything was going up in flames. When he saw me, he shouted, 'Charles, where's your mother?' When I told him I didn't know, he said, 'Find her. Bring her here. She will never see anything like this as long
as she lives.'“

The next morning, Edison looked at the ruins and said, "There is great value in disaster. All our mistakes are burned up. Thank God we can start anew.”

Three weeks after the fire, Edison managed to deliver his first phonograph.

Great value in disaster

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