Heartwarming Christmas Story

It was Christmas Eve 1942. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Daddy wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Daddy to get down the old Bible.

I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Daddy didn't get the Bible instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon he came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now he was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew he was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my coat. Mommy gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Daddy was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Daddy pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.

"I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

Then Daddy went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. Mrs.Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?

Yeah," I said, "Why?"

"I rode by just today," he said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, he called a halt to our loading then we went to the smoke house and he took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Mrs.Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Daddy was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was he buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"

Mrs.Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Mrs.Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Daddy said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then he handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at my Daddy like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," he said. Then turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Daddy handed them each a piece of candy and Mrs.Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of my Daddy in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Daddy had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Mommy and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Daddy insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. My Daddy took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Daddy and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door he turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Mrs.Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Daddy turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your Mother and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough.

Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your Mom and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Daddy had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. He had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Mrs. Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside of my Daddy that night. He had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

A day in the life of a teacher...

Me: Ok class, today...
Student: This is stupid. I'd rather be playing video games.
Office: *ring* Send (student) to the office.
Voicemail: My kid told me that YOU...
Email: We need you to sub on your prep.
Teacher coaches: Students are experiencing an all time level of trauma. Form relationships with all students and make connections every day.
SRSS: Make sure to incorporate ELA and math into your lesson plan daily, so we can boost our scores for data.
IEP: Implement these modifications and accommodations for these students every hour. Document it.
504: You are legally bound to adhering to these accommodations for these students. Document it.
Pinterest: Every teacher in the universe has a cooler and craftier idea and classroom than you.
Facebook: Omg. Did you hear about what happened in *insert teacher here* class?! Don't they even watch them? It's their job! How did (s)he miss that?! Yeah, and I heard...
Class roster: 30+ kids every hour, 6 times per day.
Student Services: You have 4 homeless students. You need to provide the following daily.
Student Medical alert: These students will die if you don't monitor these medical issues closely.
Professional Development: We're trying something new this year even though we're not ready to roll it out and there's no funding for it. Be sure to document that you are doing it correctly.
Media: Your classroom is going to get shot up any minute.
Surprise observation: Be sure goals are set, reports are finished, lesson plans are perfect, and that you hit the learning target and success criteria multiple times. We need documentation and evidence that you're doing this.
Standardized tests: You suck as a teacher. Also, your rating is based on this, but also, make sure students don't feel defined by their performance on these.
PBIS: Teach students the expectations in the hallway, cafeteria, classroom, and outside. Take students in the bathroom and reteach how to wipe, flush, and wash hands. Be sure to only reward positive behavior. Check in and check out with these specific students daily.
MTSS: We have 3 tiers of support. What about your gifted students, pull out students, intervention students? Why aren't you providing enough differentiation? You need to provide documentation.
Door: Keep me locked, so that students are safe. Yes you will be interrupted to open me 10x per hour.
Papers/Grading: Say good bye to your evenings and weekends.
Lesson plans: Are they aligned with school, state, U.S., and world wide standards? Be sure to document that.
The Powers That Be: What can we do to help?
Teachers: Please take something off our plate before adding something new.
The Powers that Be: Sorry, no can do. Btw, you also need to...
Tech Dept: We are working on correcting today's issue as quickly as we can.
English Language Learner: *crying, speaking a foreign language, feeling alone and scared*
The Powers that Be: Sorry, there's just not enough funding for those students.
Department Heads: I've been told we need to align all of our curriculum, assessments, and daily lesson plans. Be sure to document that.
Staff Memo: Be sure to attend the following meetings this week: staff, grade level, core subject, tech, school climate, school improvement.
Counselors: We saw 500 of the 900 students on our caseload, this month.
Social Worker: Yes, I filed that CPS report and the other one. Now we wait on the state to act.
Student: My step dad got arrested last night for beating up my mom.
Tornado Drill: Surprise! Make sure all students are safe. Now go back to teaching.
Fire Drill: Surprise! Make sure all students are safe. Now go back to teaching.
Internal Threat Drill: Surprise! Barricade your door and make sure all students are silent for 45 minutes. Go back to teaching.
External Threat drill: Surprise! Make sure student are silent and out of the funnel of potential bullet spray. Now go back to teaching.
Tutoring: Provided before school, after school, and during lunch.
Technology: Must be implemented into all lessons but also make sure to monitor all 30+ students at all times and make sure they're not doing anything inappropriate.
Data: You suck as a teacher.
Administrators: *literally being pulled in 20 directions at once, everyday, while fielding discipline, making multiple teacher observations, fielding staff, breaking up fights, keeping us safe, performing investigations, cooperating with police, meeting with students and parents, and attending all after school and extracurricular activities*
Employability grade: Be sure to document when students are tardy, not following directions, unprepared, and not collaborating well. Document this for all 175 students.
Academic Grade: Document all accommodations, modifications, retakes, and rationale for grades for each of your 175 students. No we will not provide district time for you to enter these into your grade book.
Special Ed State Dept: You must mainstream all students regardless of behavior, cognitive function, and/or potential violent episodes. Sorry, there's just not enough funding for
additonal support in your classroom.
State: Make sure you are highly qualified, but you must pay for all of your professional development, student loans, grad classess, conferences, hotel stay, food, travel, and substitute teachers out of pocket. And you need to update your certification. You'll need to pay for that too.
Bladder: You haven't peed in 7 hours, you're going to get another infection.
Heart: *racing*
Stomach: *in knots and anxiety coursing*
Brain: You're not enough. You'll never be enough.
Chest/Lungs: I can't breathe.
Eyes: *leaking tears*
Me: *smiles* (Tells self) Stop. Just suck it up. You're fine. You have 30+ students eyes on you right now. Do NOT let them down.
Society: F*ck respect for authority, including your teachers. Must be nice to get your summers off.
Parent of a student: You make a difference.
Student: I know I'm special and have value, because of you.
My own kids: Mom, why are your crying?
Me: *sets alarm for tomorrow to do it all over again*
-Written by Amber Guerreiro (middle school teacher)

Keep Your Fork . . . The Best Is Yet To Come -

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live.  

So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.
"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.
"This is very important," the young woman continued. 

"I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. 

"My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. 

In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, "Keep your fork." It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming .... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!"

"So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder... "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come."

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about
what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. 

So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. 

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility.

And just remember ... keep your fork!
The BEST is yet to come!

Follow me for more great posts. Vicki Suddaby

9/11 Helluva Tribute!!!

Saw a pretty amazing thing tonight at the gym. 

This firefighter was on the stair climber in full equipment, including his mask and oxygen tank. After about a half hour, I saw him finishing and taking his gear off so I went over to tell him how much I respected what he was doing. I figured he was training for a firefighter exam, but when I commented on it, he exclaimed - 

"110 floors! Took me 30 minutes, 10 seconds." 

110 floors.... It's September 11 and he had just climbed the equivalent of 110 floors like the firefighters did in the World Trade Center. Apparently, this is a tradition that many firefighters do to honor the 343 firefighters who lost their lives in the line of duty that day. It's a helluva tribute!

"DON'T STEP ON THE WHITE LINE"!!

Ten Tips To Stay Safe - Written By A Police Officer

Everyone should take 5 minutes to read this. It may save your life or a loved one's life. In daylight hours, refresh yourself of these things to do in an emergency situation... This is for you, and for you to share with your wife, your children, & everyone you know. After reading these 10 crucial tips, forward them to someone you care about. It never hurts to be careful in this crazy world we live in.


1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do :The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do!

2. Learned this from a tourist guide. If a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse,....... DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM.
Toss it away from you... Chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you, and he will go for the wallet/purse.
AND RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car, kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy.. The driver won't see you, but everybody else will. This has saved lives.

4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping, eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc.)... DON'T DO THIS!
The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side, put a gun to your HEAD and tell you where to go.
AS SOON AS YOU GET INTO YOUR CAR, LOCK THE DOORS AND LEAVE..

If someone is in the car with a gun to your head
DO NOT DRIVE OFF....... Repeat: DO NOT DRIVE OFF!!!!
Instead gun the engine and speed into anything, wrecking the car. Your Air Bag will save you. If the person is in the back seat they will get the worst of it.
As soon as the car crashes......BAIL OUT AND RUN!!!!
It is better than having them find your body in a remote location.

5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:
A.) BE AWARE... look around you, look into your car, at the passenger side floor and in the back seat.
B.) If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door.
Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.
C.) Look at the car parked on the driver's side of your vehicle, and the passenger side.. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out.
IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY.
(And better paranoid than dead.)

6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot.
This is especially true at NIGHT!)

7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN!
The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; and even then,
it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!!!!
Preferably in a zig -zag pattern!

8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP!!!
It may get you raped or killed.
(Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked 'for help' into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next VICTIM).

9. Another Safety Point:
Someone just told me that her friend heard a crying baby on her porch the night before last and because it was late and she thought it was weird..She called the police.
The police told her 'Whatever you do, DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR!
The lady then said that it sounded like the baby had crawled near a windrow and she was worried that it would crawl to the street and get run over. The policeman said, 'We already have a unit on the way, whatever you do, do not open the door.' He told her that they think a serial killer has a baby's cry recorded and uses it to coax women out of their homes thinking that someone dropped off a baby.. He said they have not verified it, but have had several calls by women saying that they hear baby's cries outside their doors when they're home alone at night.

10. Water scam!
If you wake up in the middle of the night to hear all your taps outside running or what you think is a burst pipe.....
DO NOT GO OUT TO INVESTIGATE!
These people turn on all your outside taps full blast so that you will go out to investigate and then attack.

Stay alert, keep safe, and look out for your neighbors!

I'd like you to forward this to all the women you know.
It may save a life.
I was going to send this to the ladies only but guys, if you love your mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, etc.... You may want to pass it onto them.
Everyone should take 5 minutes to read this. It may save your life or a loved one's life.

Wisdom 101

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. 

When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists." 

"Why do you say that?" asked the customer. 

"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist, like why would there be so many sick people? Why so many abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things." 

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. 

The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.

Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. 

The customer turned back and entered the barbershop again and he said to the barber: 

"You know what? Barbers do not exist." 

"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber. 

"I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"

 "No!" the customer exclaimed. 

"Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside." 

"Ah, but barbers DO exist!", answered the barber. 

"What happens, is, people do not come to me." 

"Exactly!" - affirmed the customer. 

"That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! What happens, is, people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. That's why there is so much pain and suffering in the world." 

Being kind to someone costs zero! 

God bless your day~♥

Hilarious Letter To Bank!!!

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $50 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.

I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, prerecorded faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.

Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete.

I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses
required to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. Press buttons as follows:

1.   To make an appointment to see me.
2.   To query a missing payment.
3.   To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4.   To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5.   To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6.   To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7.   To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated at a later date to the Authorized Contact.

8.  To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9.  To make a general complaint or inquiry.

The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous New Year?

Your humble client

If you're interested - here's the origins of this very funny piece!!


The letter quoted above was one man’s method of blowing off steam at having to deal with some of these exasperating aspects of modern banking. 

It was penned by Peter Wear, a columnist for the Courier Mail in Brisbane, Australia, for that publication’s “Perspectives” column. The letter was not actually sent to a bank; it was a humor piece from start to finish, albeit one inspired by the author’s actually having had one of his checks bounce. 

Though the item did appear in an actual newspaper, it was not, however (as claimed in the Internet-circulated version’s prologue), published in the New York Times. Mr. Wear’ssardonic offering about the over-mechanized joys of banking as experienced by the consumer was written in January 1999, and since then, anonymous rewriters have been moved to alter his original to make it better fit with a primarily American audience. Compare his original to the version that later circulated (as reproduced below), which is noticeably different in several aspects:

My dear Bank Manager,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing the cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations some three nano-seconds must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque, and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account by way of penalty for the inconvenience I caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to re-think my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of fiscal righteousness. No more will our relationship be blighted by these unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring my affairs in 1999, taking as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very own bank. I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud to hear it. To this end, please be advised about the following changes.

First, I have noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom you must nominate. You will be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application For Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his/her medical history must be countersigned by a Justice of the Peace, and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phonebank service.

As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours. My Authorised Contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have any dealings, may call me at any time and will be answered by an automated voice. By pressing buttons on the phone, he/she will be guided thorough an extensive set of menus:

1, to make an appointment to see me;
2, to query a missing repayment;
3, to make a general complaint or inquiry, and so on.

The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration. This month I’ve chosen a refrain from The Best Of Woody Guthrie:

Oh, the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are filled with silver
That the miners sweated for!

After twenty minutes of that, our mutual contact will probably know if off by heart.

On a more serious note, we come to the matter of cost. As your bank has often pointed out, the ongoing drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost — a cost which you have always been quick to pass on to me. Let me repay your kindness by passing some costs back.

First, there is the matter of advertising material you send me. This I will read for a fee of $20 per A4 page. Inquiries from your nominated contact will be billed at $5 per minute of my time spent in response.

Any debits to my account, as, for example, in the matter of the penalty for the dishonoured cheque, will be passed back to you. My new phone service runs at 75 cents a minute (even Woody Guthrie doesn’t come for free), so you would be well advised to keep your inquiries brief and to the point.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your humble client.

Why Japan's Fireworks Are The BEST In The World

World's First Refueling Station, 131 years ago in 1880

According to my email forward :

This video appears pretty historically accurate! 

This woman was a real pioneer!