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It has been so bitterly cold here in Pennsylvania.

I can’t remember a winter being as cold as this, but I’m sure there were colder days.flower yilly

Even though the daylight hours are growing longer minute by minute, it’s easy to find an excuse not to go out unless you absolutely must, but then again I often have to push myself to accomplish things.

People I speak to have been in all kinds of nasty moods. They say they’re “under the weather,” not feeling good about this time of year.

As I stood outside with my two dogs yesterday, it was so cold that my nose and face felt crisp and my cars were stinging.

Of course, that doesn’t matter to Ricky and Lucy. They have a routine they must go through to find just the fight spot no matter how cold or hot it is.

So I wait.

But this time it was different. As cold as it was, I suddenly was invigorated thinking about how wonderful this extreme cold really was.

Then the sun broke through the clouds and memories of summer’s scorching hot days flashed through my mind. I could remember standing in the heat of the afternoon, sweat pouring down my brow and the hot, burning sun against my face. I reminded myself then and there that in the cold of the winter I would wish I had this heat.

I was right.

Two extremes in my life that most of the time I find uncomfortable, I normally dread them and gripe about it all the way through.

But today I was grateful for them. Without the extremes in my life, I would never appreciate the days when things were just right. Without the extremes life would be boring.

It’s being pushed to one of the extremes that makes us appreciate the middle more. Health challenges reminds us that we need to pay more attention to how we live. Financial extremes reminds us that when things are in excess it’s time to tuck away for when the times are lean.

So bring on the cold so I appreciate the heat more.

Make me sweat on a hot summer’s day so I wish I had a handful of snow to rub my face in.

I’ve come to the conclusion that all too often I find a reason not to be happy with where I am at that moment.

Whether it’s hot or cold, good health or bad, in the money or out of it, I always wanted it to be different.

But no more. I want to start finding a reason to be happy right where I am. Even if it’s simply the fact that I’m alive.WEIMEI OB

I’m tired of being “Under the Weather!”

From my perspective, once you enter into the realm of marriage, building and maintaining a successful marriage is actually a big part of personal and financial success. A solid marriage not only results in people sharing resources together, but a marriage also provides a lot of emotional support, cheerleading, and encouragement to succeed.santi capsule
What follows are twelve little things I do quite regularly in my marriage. Please, use as many of these as seem reasonable.

I tell my wife I love her every single day. I usually do it in the morning before she leaves the bedroom, and on weekdays I’ll also tell her when I see her in the evening for the first time. I usually couple it with a kiss. It’s so simple, but it’s a constant reminder of the fact that I do love her, no matter what.

I ask about her day, listen, and ask follow up questions. I do this not only so I can keep tabs on her professional life, but also to give her a great chance to vent about her situation. Everyone needs to talk about themselves sometimes to someone who is interested – I try to provide that for her as often as I can.

I put careful thought into gifts I give her. Sure, it’s easy to just run out and get a generic gift to cover yourself during an anniversary or a birthday. However, a gift with some real thought behind it means substantially more than an obviously off-the-cuff gift.

I encourage her to follow her passions and interests, even if they don’t inspire or interest me. If my wife chooses to spend significant time on a project, it’s obviously something that’s important to her. That doesn’t imply at all that it has to be important to me. If she’s involved in her own project, I give her positive encouragement and then work on my own interests instead of saying things like “that seems like a waste of time.”

If she needs me, I willingly contribute to those passions. If something genuinely excites her and she wants me to experience it, I willingly involve myself in whatever it may be: a particular type of art, a craft project, a yard project, whatever. Even if I don’t enjoy it, I do have the opportunity to learn more about my wife and what she’s passionate about, which means that my understanding of her grows.

I look for opportunities to build mutual friendships. The idea that there is a group of people that are “my” friends and another group that is “her” friends can be a big dividing factor between us. Instead, I often focus on building friendships and relationships that we share with others so that something of a community of friendship and love grows up around us.

I hold her every night, even if it’s just for a moment. I might be completely exhausted when I go to bed in the evening, but I take a moment to move close to her, put my arm around her, and hold her close, even if it’s just for a minute or so. That moment of physical contact to end the day is a simple sign of love.

I try to surprise her on a regular basis. I’ll spend an hour preparing a really excellent supper when she doesn’t expect it. I’ll spontaneously give the kids a bath when she’s comfortable on the couch under a blanket, even if it’s her turn. Doing these little unexpected things not only shows her I care, but also often compels her to do similar things for me.

I hold her hand. I do this all the time, whenever it crosses my mind and seems appropriate. I’ll just hold her hand gently while we’re talking or we’re riding in the car or we’re waiting for an appointment or we’re sitting on the couch in the evenings.

I talk about EVERYTHING with her and let her determine what’s interesting. If something is concerning me, I don’t hide it from her. I tell her about it. Most of the time she’s interested and we’ll discuss it – sometimes she’s not and I let it drop (this is key – if she’s not into the topic, I don’t push it). Either way, though, she gets the message that I’m making an effort to share and be open.

I work on building a positive relationship with her family. Whenever I visit or see anyone in her family, I make a special effort to try to establish or build upon a strong relationship with them. This accomplishes several things: it makes her more at ease in a family situation, it helps me to build stronger ties with people that are important to her, and it helps me to understand the influences that were around her as she grew up.
I send her messages during the day.

About once a week, during a time where my wife is really present in my thoughts, I send her a little simple note by email. All it says is something along the lines of “I was thinking about you just now. I can’t wait until I see you this evening.” It’s just a very simple way of letting her know she’s on my mind and in my heart.zang mi nan bao

As I sat perched in the second-floor window of our brick schoolhouse that afternoon, max manmy heart began to sink further with each passing car. This was a day I’d looked forward to for weeks: Miss Pace’s fourth-grade, end-of-the-year party. Miss Pace had kept a running countdown on the blackboard all that week, and our class of nine-year-olds had bordered on insurrection by the time the much-anticipated “party Friday” had arrived.

I had happily volunteered my mother when Miss Pace requested cookie volunteers. Mom’s chocolate chips reigned supreme on our block, and I knew they’d be a hit with my classmates. But two o’clock passed, and there was no sign of her. Most of the other mothers had already come and gone, dropping off their offerings of punch , crackers, cupcakes and brownies . My mother was missing in action.

“Don’t worry, Robbie, she’ll be along soon,” Miss Pace said as I gazed forlornly down at the street. I looked at the wall clock just in time to see its black minute hand shift to half-past.

Around me, the noisy party raged on, but I wouldn’t leave my window watch post. Miss Pace did her best to coax me away, but I just stayed there, holding out hope that the familiar family car would round the corner, carrying my rightfully embarrassed mother with a tin of her famous cookies tucked under her arm.

The three o’clock bell soon jolted me from my thoughts and I dejectedly grabbed my book bag from my desk and shuffled out the door for home.

On the walk to home, I plotted my revenge. I would slam the front door upon entering, refuse to return her hug when she rushed over to me, and vow never to speak to her again.

The house was empty when I arrived and I looked for a note on the refrigerator that might explain my mother’s absence, but found none. My chin quivered with a mixture of heartbreak and rage. For the first time in my life, my mother had let me down.

I was lying face-down on my bed upstairs when I heard her come through the front door.

“Robbie,” she called out a bit urgently. “Where are you?”

I could then hear her darting frantically from room to room, wondering where I could be. I remained silent. In a moment, she mounted the steps. When she entered my room and sat beside me on my bed, I didn’t move but instead stared blankly into my pillow refusing to acknowledge her presence.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said. “I just forgot. I got busy and forgot—plain and simple.”

I still didn’t move. “Don’t forgive her,” I told myself. “She humiliated you. She forgot you. Make her pay.”

Then my mother did something completely unexpected. She began to laugh. I could feel her shudder as the laughter shook her. It began quietly at first and then increased violently.

I was incredulous . How could she laugh at a time like this? I rolled over and faced her, ready to let her see the rage and disappointment in my eyes.

But my mother wasn’t laughing at all. She was crying. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I let you down. I let my little boy down.”

She sank down on the bed and began to weep like a little girl. I was dumbstruck . I had never seen my mother cry. To my understanding, mothers weren’t supposed to.

I desperately tried to recall her own soothing words from times past when I’d skinned knees or stubbed toes, times when she knew just the right thing to say. But in this moment of tearful plight , words of profundity abandoned me like a worn-out shoe.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I stammered as I reached out and gently stroked her hair. “We didn’t even need those cookies. There was plenty of stuff to eat. Don’t cry. It’s all right. Really.”

My words, as inadequate as they sounded to me, prompted my mother to sit up. She wiped her eyes, and a slight smile began to crease her tear-stained cheeks. I smiled back awkwardly , and she pulled me to her.

We didn’t say another word. We just held each other in a long, silent embrace. When we came to the point where I would usually pull away , I decided that, this time, I could hold on, perhaps, just a little bit longer.Wenick

I believe the immediate purpose of life is to live – to survive. Mojo Warrior All known forms of life go through life cycles. The basic plan is: birth – maturing – mating – reproducing – death.

Thus the immediate purpose of human life is for each individual to fulfill his life cycle. This involves proper maturing into the fully developed adult of the specie.

The pine tree grows straight unless harmful influences warp it. So does the human being. It is a finding of the greatest significance that the mature man and woman have the nature and characteristics of the good spouse and parent: the ability to enjoy responsible working and loving.

If the world consisted primarily of mature persons – loving, responsible, productive, toward family, friends and the world – most of our human problems would be resolved .

But most people have suffered in childhood from influences which have warped their development. Hence, as adults they have not realized their full and proper nature. They feel something is wrong without knowing what it is. They feel inferior, frustrated, insecure, and anxious. And they react to these inner feelings just as any animal reacts to any hurt or threat: by readiness to fight or to flee. Flight carries them into alcoholism and other mental disorders. Fight impels them to crime, cruelty, war.

This readiness to violence, this inhumanity of man to man, is the basic problem of human life – for, in the form of war, it now threatens to extinguish us.

Without the fight-flight reaction, man would never have survived the cave and the jungle. But now, through social living, man has made himself relatively safe from the elements and wild beasts. He is even learning to protect himself against disease. He can produce adequate food, clothing and shelter for the present population of the earth. Barring a possible astronomical accident, he now faces no serious threat to his existence, except one – the fight-flight reaction within himself. This jungle readiness to hurt and to kill is now a vestigial hangover like the appendix , which interferes with the new and more powerful means of coping with nature through civilization. Trying to solve every problem by fighting or fleeing is the primitive method, still central for the immature child. The later method, understanding and co-operation, requires the mature capacities of the adult.

In an infantile world, fighting may be forced upon one. Then it is more effective if handled maturely for mature goals. Probably war will cease only when enough people are mature.

The basic problem is social adaptation and biologic survival. The basic solution is for people to understand the nature of their own biological emotional maturity, to work toward it, to help the children in their development toward it.

Human suffering is mostly made by man himself. It is primarily the result of the failure of adults, because of improper child-rearing, to mature emotionally. Hence instead of enjoying their capacities for responsible work and love, they are grasping , egocentric , insecure, frustrated, anxious and hostile. Maturity is the path from madness and murder to inner peace and satisfying living for each individual and for the human specie.

This I believe on the evidence of science and through personal observation and experience.satibo

There was a village where all the peasants were rich except for just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. He did not own a single cow, and had even less money to buy one with, but he and his wife would have liked to have one ever so much.Insect Powder

One day he said to her, “Listen, I have a good idea. Our kinsman the cabinetmaker should make us a calf out of wood and paint it brown so that it looks like any other calf, and with time it is sure to grow big and be a cow.”

His wife liked this idea, and their kinsman the cabinetmaker skillfully put together the calf and planed it, then painted it just right. He made it with its head hanging down as if it were grazing.

When the cows were being driven out the next morning the little peasant called to the herder and said, “Look, I have a little calf here, but it is still small and has to be carried.”

The herder said, “All right,” and taking it in his arms he carried it to the pasture where he set it in the grass.

The little calf stood there like one that was grazing, and the herder said, “It will soon be walking by itself. Just look how it is already grazing.”

That evening when he was about to drive the herd home again, he said to the calf, “If you can stand there and eat your fill, you can also walk on your four legs. I don´t want to carry you home again in my arms.”

When the herder drove the cows through the village the little peasant was standing outside his door waiting for his little calf. It was missing, and he asked where it was.

The herder answered, “It is still standing out there grazing. It would not stop and come with us.”

The little peasant said, “Oh, I must have my animal back again.”

Then together they went back to the pasture, but someone had stolen the calf, and it was gone.

The herder said, “It must have run away.”

The little peasant said, “Don’t tell me that,” and he took the herder before the mayor, who condemned him for his carelessness, and required him to give the little peasant a cow for the lost calf.

The little peasant and his wife now had the cow that they had long wanted. They were very glad, but they had no feed for it, and could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be slaughtered.

They salted the meat, and the little peasant went to town to sell the hide, hoping to buy a new calf with the proceeds.

On the way he came to a mill, and there sat a raven with broken wings. Out of pity he picked it up and wrapped it in the hide.

But then the weather turned very bad with a wind and rain storm. Unable to continue on his way, he returned to the mill and asked for shelter.

The miller’s wife was alone in the house, and she said to the little peasant, “You can sleep in the straw there,” and she gave him a piece of bread and cheese.

The little peasant ate and then lay down with his hide at his side. The woman thought, “He is tired and has fallen asleep.”

In the meantime the priest arrived. The miller’s wife received him well, and said, “My husband is out, so we can have a feast.”

The little peasant listened, and when he heard them talking about feasting he was angry that he had had to make do with a piece of bread and cheese. Then the woman served up four different things: a roast, salad, cake, and wine. They were just about to sit down and eat when someone knocked on the outside door.

The woman said, “Oh, God, it’s my husband.” She quickly hid the roast inside the tile stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on top of the bed, the cake under the bed, and the priest in the hallway chest.

Then opening the door for her husband, she said, “Thank heaven, you are back again. That is such a storm, as if the world were coming to an end.”

The miller saw the little peasant lying in the straw and asked, “What is that fellow doing there?”

“Oh,” said his wife, “The poor rascal came in the storm and rain and asked for shelter, so I gave him a piece of bread and cheese, and let him lie in the straw.”

The man said, “I have nothing against that, but hurry and get me something to eat.”

His wife said, ” I have nothing but bread and cheese.”

“I´ll be satisfied with anything,” answered her husband. “Bread and cheese will be good enough for me.” Then he looked at the little peasant and said, “Come and eat some more with me.”

The little peasant did not have to be asked twice, but got up and ate.

Afterward the miller saw the hide with the raven in it lying on the ground, and asked, “What do you have there?”

The little peasant answered, “I have a fortune-teller inside it.”

“Can he predict anything for me?” said the miller.Spanische Fliege

A MAN had a Wife who made herself hated by all the members of hisVigor drugs
household.  Wishing to find out if she had the same effect on the
persons in her father’s house, he made some excuse to send her
home on a visit to her father.  After a short time she returned,
and when he inquired how she had got on and how the servants had
treated her, she replied, “The herdsmen and shepherds cast on me
looks of aversion.”  He said, “O Wife, if you were disliked by
those who go out early in the morning with their flocks and
return late in the evening, what must have been felt towards you
by those with whom you passed the whole day!”

Straws show how the wind blows.Procomil Spray

Some people are just doomed to be failures. Vigor drugs That’s the way some adults look at troubled kids. Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “A bird with a broken wing will never fly as high.” I’m sure that T. J. Ware was made to feel this way almost every day in school.By high school, T. J. was the most celebrated troublemaker in his town. Teachers literally cringed when they saw his name posted on their classroom lists for the next semester. He wasn’t very talkative, didn’t answer questions and got into lots of fights. He had flunked almost every class by the time he entered his senior year, yet was being passed on each year to a higher grade level. Teachers didn’t want to have him again the following year. T. J. was moving on, but definitely not moving up. I met T. J. for the first time at a weekend leadership retreat. All the students at school had been invited to sign up for ACE training, a program designed to have students become more involved in their communities. T. J. was one of 405 students who signed up. When I showed up to lead their first retreat, the community leaders gave me this overview of the attending students: “We have a total spectrum represented today, from the student body president to T. J. Ware, the boy with the longest arrest record in the history of town.” Somehow, I knew that I wasn’t the first to hear about T. J.’s darker side as the first words of introduction.At the start of the retreat, T. J. was literally standing outside the circle of students, against the back wall, with that “go ahead, impress me” look on his face. He didn’t readily join the discussion groups, didn’t seem to have much to say. But slowly, the interactive games drew him in. The ice really melted when the groups started building a list of positive and negative things that had occurred at school that year. T. J. had some definite thoughts on those situations. The other students in T. J.’s group welcomed his comments. All of a sudden T. J. felt like a part of the group, and before long he was being treated like a leader. He was saying things that made a lot of sense, and everyone was listening. T. J. was a smart guy and he had some great ideas.The next day, T. J. was very active in all the sessions. By the end of the retreat, he had joined the Homeless Project team. He knew something about poverty, hunger and hopelessness. The other students on the team were impressed with his passionate concern and ideas. They elected T. J. co-chairman of the team. The student council president would be taking his instruction from T. J. Ware.When T. J. showed up at school on Monday morning, he arrived to a firestorm. A group of teachers were protesting to the school principal about his being elected co-chairman. The very first communitywide service project was to be a giant food drive, organized by the Homeless Proje ct team. These teachers couldn’t believe that the principal would allow this crucial beginning to a prestigious, three-year action plan to stay in the incapable hands of T. J. Ware. They reminded the principal, “He has an arrest record as long as your arm. He’ll probably steal half the food.” Mr. Coggshall reminded them that the purpose of the ACE program was to uncover any positive passion that a student had and reinforce its practice until true change can take place. The teachers left the meeting shaking their heads in disgust, firmly convinced that failure was imminent. Two weeks later, T. J. and his friends led a group of 70 students in a drive to collect food. They collected a school record: 2,854 cans of food in just two hours. It was enough to fill the empty shelves in two neighborhood centers, and the food took care of needy families in the area for 75 days. The local newspaper covered the event with a full-page article the next day. That newspaper story was posted on the main bulletin board at school, where everyone could see it. T. J.’s picture was up there for doing something great, for leading a record-setting food drive. Every day he was reminded about what he did. He was being acknowledged as leadership material. T. J. started showing up at school every day and answered questions from teachers for the first time. He led a second project, collecting 300 blankets and 1,000 pairs of shoes for the homeless shelter. The event he started now yields 9,000 cans of food in one day, taking care of 70 percent of the need for food for one year. T. J. reminds us that a bird with a broken wing only needs mending. But once it has healed, it can fly higher than the rest. T. J. got a job. He became productive. He is flying quite nicely these days.Spanische Fliege

As Amy Hagadorn rounded the corner across the hall from her classroom, she collided with a tall boy from the fifth grade running in the opposite direction.“Watch it , squirt.”
The Killer of Premature EjaculationThe boy yelled as he dodged around the little third-grader. Then, with a smirk on his face, the boy took hold of his right leg and mimicked the way Amy limped when she walked.Amy closed her eyes. Ignore him, she told herself as she headed for her classroom.But at the end of the day, Amy was still thinking about the tall boy’s mean teasing. It wasn’t as if her were the only one. It seemed that ever since Amy started the third grade, someone teased her every single day. Kids teased her about her speech or her limping. Amy was tired of it. Sometimes, even in a classroom full of other students, the teasing made her feel all alone.Back home at the dinner table that evening, Amy was quiet. Her mother knew that things were not going well at school. That’s why Patti Hagadorn was happy to have some exciting news to share with her daughter.“There’s a Christmas wish contest on the radio station,” Amy’s mom announced. “Write a letter to Santa, and you might win a prize. I think someone at this table with blonde curly hair should enter.”Amy giggled. The contest sounded like fun. She started thinking about what she wanted most for Christmas.A smile took hold of Amy when the idea first came to her. Out came pencil and paper, and Amy went to work on her letter. “Dear Santa Claus,” she began.While Amy worked away at her best printing, the rest of the family tried to guess what she might ask from Santa. Amy’s sister, Jamie, and Amy’s mom both thought a three-foot Barbie doll would top Amy’s wish list. Amy’s dad guessed a picture book. But Amy wasn’t ready to reveal her secret Christmas wish just then. Here is Amy’s letter to Santa, just as she wrote it that night:Dear Santa Claus,My name is Amy. I am nine years old. I have a problem at school. Can you help me Santa? Kids laugh at me because of the way I walk and run and talk. I have cerebral palsy. I just want one day where no one laughs at me or makes fun of me.Love, AmyAt radio station WJLT in Fort Wayne, Indiana, letter poured in for the Christmas wish contest. The workers had fun reading about all the different presents that boys and girls from across the city wanted for Christmas.When Amy’s letter arrived at the radio station, manager Lee Tobin read it carefully. He knew cerebral palsy was a muscle disorder that might confuse the schoolmates of Amy’s who didn’t understand her disability. He thought it would be good for the people in Fort Wayne to hear about this special third-grader and her unusual wish. Mr . Tobin called up the local newspaper.The next day, a picture of Amy and her letter to Santa made the front page of the News Sentinel. The story spread quickly. All across the country, newspapers and radio and television stations reported the story of the little girl in Fort Wayne, Indiana, who asked for such a simple yet remarkable Christmas gift — just one day without teasing.Suddenly the postman was a regular at the Hagadorn house. Envelopes of all sizes addressed to Amy arrived daily from children and adults all across the nation. They came filled with holiday greetings and words of encouragement.During that unforgettable Christmas season, over two thousand people from all over the world sent Amy letters of friendship and support. Amy and her family read every single one. Some of the writers had disabilities; some had been teased as children. Each writer had a special message for Amy. Through the cards and letters from strangers, Amy glimpsed a world full of people who truly cared about each other. She realized that no amount or form of teasing could ever make her feel lonely again.Many people thanked Amy for being brave enough to speak up. Others encouraged her to ignore teasing and to carry her head high. Lynn, a sixth-grader from Texas, sent this message:“I would like to be your friend,” she wrote, “and if you want to visit me, we could have fun. No one would make fun of us, ’cause if they do, we will not even hear them.”Amy did get her wish of a special day without teasing at South Wayne Elementary School. Additionally, everyone at school got another bonus. Teachers and students talked together about how bad teasing can make others feel.That year the Fort Wayne mayor officially proclaimed December 21 as Amy Jo Hagadorn Day throughout the city. The mayor explained that by daring to make such a simple wish, Amy taught a universal lesson.“Everyone,” said the mayor, “wants and deserves to be treated with respect, dignity and warmth. Satibo

Once there was an elderly widow, nanbao Chen Ma, who lived with her only son inside a forest in the Shanxi Province. Her son was one of the tiger hunters licensed by the local magistrate, following the same profession of his father and grandfather before him. His share of the profits from the sale of tiger skins, meat and bones was sufficient to keep the small mud hut well provisioned for himself and his old mother.

All was well until a particularly bitter winter. During a snowstorm, Chen Ma’s son was separated from his fellow hunters and became food for a hungry tigress.

After her initial shock and grief subsided, Chen Ma took stock of her own utterly desperate situation — an old woman left all alone. She went and implored the magistrate to provide her with compensation for the loss of her son, who was her only source of support. The magistrate decreed that henceforth, she would have a small share of profits from the kill of each tiger by the hunters. Needless to say, his decision was not taken well by the hunters, who had plenty of mouths of their own to feed — both old and young.

So, when the hunters succeeded in killing the tigress that ate Chen Ma’s son, they decided not to give her a share of the profits. Instead, they brought her the tigress’ newborn cub. He was a small quivery ball of golden fur with wobbly legs and toothless gums. The rope they tied around his neck was so tight that it was practically choking him. Instantly, Chen Ma’s heart went out to this helpless creature, whose jade-green eyes were glistening with tears.

After the hunters left, the tiger cub wobbled to where Chen Ma sat and lay at her feet. She bent down to rub his ears and he licked her shoes with his soft tongue.

The elderly widow looked at the tiger baby and sighed. “They told me to butcher you, to salt and smoke your flesh for my meat supply. Your skin would make warm boots for my feet; your bones are good for making Tiger Bone Wine to ease the pain in my joints. But oh, how can I bear to kill you? You are so young and vital, while I am so old and frail.”

And so, Chen Ma untied the rope from the little tiger’s neck and fed him a paste of cooked roots with her fingers. Her son had a good supply of grains and roots in the attached shed and she planned to stretch the food out to last the winter.

When the store o f the firewood was running low, Chen Ma was unable to keep her bedroll on top of the kang warm (a kang is a bed base built of bricks with space for a small fire). So she slept curling against the baby tiger, whose soft fur was cozy and warm.

Once ever so often, women from nearby villages would bring sewing for Chen Ma to do. She was very handy with a needle. They paid her for her labor with dried venison and small sacks of grain. At first they did not find the little tiger’s presence alarming; he was no bigger than a piglet. However, when spring came, he had grown into the size of a calf, showing a full set of teeth and claws. The women told their hunter husbands and the men came to kill the young tiger.
Chen Ma armed herself with her son’s hunting spear and threatened to gut anyone who dared to harm her beloved pet.

“I’ve lost both husband and son. This tiger is the only companion I have now. I shall go to the magistrate and request to adopt him as my son.”

The hunters thought the old woman had become mad and jeered at her. But since she was so determined, they dared not kill her tiger without the magistrate’s permission. So they followed Chen Ma and her tiger all the way to the official’s judgment hall.

“Venerable Mother,” said the magistrate. “Your request is most unusual. Are you not afraid that some day the tiger might revert to his wild nature and devour you?” wei ge king

“Honorable sir,” replied the old widow with tears in her eyes. “What is there to fear? I have lived too long. The only worry I have now is being left utterly alone. Please let me adopt this young tiger, for he has become like a son in my affections.”

The kindly magistrate did not have the heart to refuse such an ancient woman’s pleading. So he had his assistant draw up a document for the tiger’s adoption.

In order to protect the tiger from the hunters’ arrows and spears, the magistrate ordered a large copper pendent made to hang around the beast’s neck. The words “Fu Chee” were engraved on the pendent meaning Tiger Son. To show her deep gratitude, Chen Ma knelt down in front of the magistrate and knocked her forehead three times. Then she led Fu Chee back to their home in the forest. By next winter, Fu Chee had grown into his maximum size. Chen Ma’s hut was in danger of collapsin g whenever the tiger became playful. Reluctantly, she allowed Fu Chee to make his home inside a cave nearby.

However, the affectionate tiger came back to visit his adopted mother often, always bearing a gift in his mouth — a dead deer or a large piece of tree branch. Also, he still liked to lick her shoes and to have his ears rubbed. Chen Ma’s needs were being cared for just as if her natural son was still alive!

After Chen Ma died at the ripe old age past one hundred, the hunters noticed Fu Chee guarded her tomb nightly. They left him unmolested as he had never attacked any humans or domestic animals. This went on for a number of years and then one day the tiger was seen no more.

Out of deep respect and admiration for the filial tiger son, the hunters erected a small stone monument at Chen Ma’s tomb with Fu Chee’s story engraved on it. Henceforth, Fu Chee became a household legend in that part of Shanxi Province.

The Golden Touch
Midas,son of the Great Goddess of Ida,WEIMEI OB by a hero whosename is not remembered ,was a pleasureloving King of Macedonian Bromium,where he ruled over the Brigians and planted his famous rose gardens.One day,the old hero Silenus,Dionysus’ former teacher,happened to straggle from the main body of the Dionysian army as it marched out of Thrace into Boeotia,and was found sleeping and drunken in the rose gardens.The gardeners tied him and ledhim before Midas,to whom he told wonderful tales of a big continent lying beyond the Ocean’s stream ——altogether separatefrom the united mass of Europe,Asia,or Africa——where gigantic,happy,and longlived people lived in splendid cities,enjoying a wonderful law system.Midas,delighted with Silenus’ fictions,entertained him for five days and nights,and then ordered a guide to lead him to Dionysus’ headquarters.Dionysus,who had been worrying about Silenus,sent toask how Midas wished to be rewarded.He replied without hesitation:‘Please turn all I touch into gold.’ However,not onlystones,flowers,and the furnishings of his house turned to gold but,when he sat down to table,so did the food he ate and the water he drank .Midas soon begged to be freed from his wish,because he was fast dying of hunger and thirst.Highlyamused ,Dionysus told him to visit the source of the river Pactolus and there wash himself.He obeyed,and was at oncefreed from the golden touch,but the sands of the river Pactolusare bright with gold to this day.MAX MAN