RE: STAY CONNECTED

Suniti,

These are beautiful - most moving - most teaching lessons , even at my age  !

Many thanks

hcp

PS :

Incidentally , 2 days back , I launched my 8th ( or is it 9th ? ) web site

If you feel like , you may forward the following message to your contacts

regards

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Dear  Friend

I am glad to announce the launch of my latest web site ,

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With regards ,

hemen  parekh

From: suniti desai [mailto:sdsunitidesai@gmail.com]
Sent: Monday, February 03, 2014 11:46 PM
To: Ahmed Oomer - Cathedral; Amberren - Cathedral; Amir Curmally - Cathedral; Anita Billimoria - Cathedral; Anjali Taraporevala - Cathedral; Arundhati - Cathedral; B. D.Vachha - Cathedral; C.S.Kapadia - Cathedral; Curim - Cathedral; Currimjee - Cathedral; Daulet Lal - Cathedral; Hamied Sulaiman - Cathedral; Jaffer - Cathedral; Ketki Patel - Cathedral; Lata Guha - Cathedral; Mustan - Cathedral; N. D.Desai - Cathedral; Sunder Mansukhani - Cathedral; Usha Shah - Cathdral; Vicky Velinker - Cathedral; Bhavana Krishnan-L&T; Famy Abraham - L&T; G.D.Bhatia L&T; G.V.Shetty - L&T; Gabby Fernandes - L&T; Gladys Vas - L&T; Jyoti Venkat L&T; Lily Vas Pereira - L&T; O.K.Sharma - L&T; S Laxminarayan - L&T; S Manikandhan - L&T; S S Acharya - L&T; S S Acharya - L&T; S.K.Tiwari - L&T; Dr.H.J.Shroff - L&T; Dr.G.K.Kulkarni - L&T; Subhash Sathe - L&T; Suresh Semlani - L&T; T.K.Radhakrishnan - L&T; Thombre - L&T; U.V.Shirodkar - L&T; Bertha Lobo - L&T; Blanche D'Souza - L&T; Bonnie D'Souza L&T; Cynthia Rodrigues - L&T; Deepak Desai - L&T; Denise D'Silva - L&T; Gladys Pinto L&T; Grace Tressler - L&T; Lakshmi Mahadev - L&T; Panna Desai - L&T; Sheela Gidvani - L&T; Sulbha Joshi - L&T; Vrishali Namjoshi - L&T; A. M. Deshmukh - L&T; C. M. Srivastava - L&T; Dennyson Pereira - L&T; Hemen Parekh; Indrajit Sethi - L&T; K. R. Sanghavi - L&T; M.L.Gore - L&T; Murthy B.V.Ramana - L&T; R. V. Kadam - L&T; S.R.Subramaniam - L&T; V. K. Mahajan - L&T; W.J.N.Danait - L&T
Subject: Fwd: STAY CONNECTED

All these are wonderful and the last one is the best.  It is not new.  It is old, but there is a chance that you might not have read it earlier

suniti

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: rajiv divekar <divekarajiv@yahoo.co.uk>
Date: Sat, Feb 1, 2014 at 1:39 PM
Subject: STAY CONNECTED
To: suniti desai <sdsunitidesai@gmail.com>

Rajiv Divekar
09765290159

# 1

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man.  College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way.  In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.
    There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time  to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.
    Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through Jack's mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
      "Oh, sorry, Mom. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.
    "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.
    "I loved that old house he lived in. He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said.
 "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom,  I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.
    As busy as he was,  he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown.  Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful.  He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.
    The night before he had to return home,  Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house, next door, one more time.
    The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....  But, Jack stopped suddenly.
    "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked..
    "The box is gone," he said.
    "What box?" Mom asked.
    "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk.  I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.
    It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box.. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.
    "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight to catch, Mom."
    It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. One day, returning home from work, Jack discovered  a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.
    Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read.
Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.
    "Upon my death,  please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett.  It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.
    Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:
    "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."
    "The thing he valued most was...my time."

# 2

When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle,
When 24 hours in a day is not enough. Remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class  and had some  items in  front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, He picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.   He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full...   They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand And poured it into the jar.  Of course the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous 'yes.'
The professor then produced  two cups of coffee from under the table And poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
'Now,' said the professor as the laughter subsided, 'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life..
The golf balls are the important things - God, family, children, health, Friends, and Favorite passions –
Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house and car.
The sand is everything else -- the small stuff.
'If you put the sand into the jar first,'  he continued, 'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.
If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are  important to you.
So...pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

'Take care of the golf balls first -- The things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.'

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.
The professor smiled. 'I'm glad you asked'.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life  may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with  a friend.'

# 3

Once upon a time a very strong woodcutter asked for a job with a timber merchant, and he got it. His salary was really good and so were the working conditions. For that reason, the woodcutter was determined to do his best.
His boss gave him an axe and showed him the area where he was supposed to fell the trees. The first day, the woodcutter brought down 15 trees.

" Congratulations," the boss said. " Carry on with your work!"
 Highly motivated by the words of his boss, the woodcutter tried harder the next day, but he only could bring 10 trees down. The third day he tried even harder, but he was only able to bring down 7 trees.

Day after day he was bringing lesser number of trees down.
" I must be losing my strength", the woodcutter thought. He went to the boss and apologized, saying that he could not understand what was going on.
" When was the last time you sharpened your axe?" the boss asked.
" Sharpen? I had no time to sharpen my axe. I have been very busy trying to cut trees..."

That's right. Most of us NEVER update our skills. We think that whatever we have learned is very much enough. But good is not good when better is expected. Sharpening our skills from time to time is the key to success.

Similarly we have to invest time in friends to keep friendship alive- we more or less take them for granted.

# 4

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the Wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone!.  Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
"Information, please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No,"I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice..
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my maths.
She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, "Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Wayne, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice.
"How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,
"Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.  I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle.
A different voice answered, "Information."
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?" "
"Yes." I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, 'Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.