PETER'S RESUME

THIRTY DAYS

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, 'I’ve got something to tell you'. She sat down and ate quietly. I observed the hurt in her eyes, as if she knew what was coming.

Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I wanted a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, 'Why?'

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, 'You are not a man!' That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to bed and fell asleep quickly, tired after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into our bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. 'No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce', she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, 'Daddy is holding mommy in his arms.' His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, 'Don’t tell our son about the divorce.' I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Unconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, 'Dad, it’s time to carry mom out.' To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand wrapped around my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, 'I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.' I drove to work, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, 'Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.'

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. 'Do you have a fever?' She said. I moved her hand off my head. 'Sorry, Jane', I said, 'I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart'. Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, 'I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.'

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run upstairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son - I’m a loving husband….

I WISH YOU ENOUGH

Recently, I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport as the daughter's departure had been announced. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said:

"I love you and I wish you enough."


The daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom." They kissed and the daughter left.

The mother walked over to the window where I sat. Standing there, I could see she wanted and needed to cry.


I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?" "Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking but why is this a forever good-bye?"


"I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.


When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"


She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more.


"When we said 'I wish you enough' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them". Then turning toward me, she shared the following, reciting it from memory,


"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.

I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."


She then began to cry and walked away.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person. An hour to appreciate them. A day to love them. And an entire life to forget them.

A BROTHER'S LOVE

A BOY SINGING TO HIS LITTLE SISTER `You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine'

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.  

They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in mommy's tummy.

He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen. In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor.

Would a C-section be required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition.  With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at a nearby hospital. The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there was very little hope, and to prepare for the worst.

Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. `I want to sing to her’, he kept saying.

Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.

Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not.

If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket.

The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, 'Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed.' The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. 'He is not leaving until he sings to his sister' she stated.

Then Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live.

After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang:

'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.' Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady.

'Keep on singing, Michael,' encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.

'You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away.' As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr.

'Keep on singing, sweetheart.'

'The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms.' Michael's little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her.

'Keep on singing, Michael.' Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.

'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away.'

The next day....the very next day the little girl was well enough to go home.

Woman's Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother's Song. The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love.

 NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL.

A GLASS OF MILK, PAID IN FULL

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

 

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk.

 

He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness.”

 

He said, “Then I thank you from my heart.”

 

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

 

Years later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.

 

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

 

Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case.

 

After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room.

 

She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She began to read the following words:

 

“Paid in full with one glass of milk”

Signed, Dr. Howard Kelly.

 

 

Author Unknown

THE WOODEN BOWL

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson.

The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

'We must do something about father,' said the son.

'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.'

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner.

There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.

Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.

When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.

Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.

He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?'

Just as sweetly, the boy responded, 'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up’. The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family... And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

KEANU LOVE AFFAIR

Just waxing nostalgic...saw the movie Speed on cable and I remembered my love affair with Keanu Reeves. I had such a huge crush on him and I know I made a slideshow of him, sort of my tribute to his hotness...

IT'S WHAT YOU SCATTER

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes... I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

 'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'

'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'

'Good. Anything I can help you with?'

'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'

'Would you like to take some home?'  Asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'

'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.

'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'

'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances.  Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.

When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as one by one each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.

They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho..'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

 The Moral:

We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles:  A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...An unexpected phone call from an old friend.... Green stoplights on your way to work...The fastest line at the grocery store...A good sing-along song on the radio...Your keys found right where you left them.

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED!

THE LOST WALLET

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

 

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline –1924. The letter had been written almost 70 years ago.

 

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a “Dear John” letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him anymore because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.

 

It was signed, Hannah.

 

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

 

“Operator,” I began, “this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?”

 

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, “Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can’t give you the number.” She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.

 

I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. “I have a party who will speak with you.”

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, “Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!”

 

“Would you know where that family could be located now?” I asked.

 

“I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,” the woman said. “Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.”

 

She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.

 

I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

 

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 70 years old?

 

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, “Yes, Hannah is staying with us.”

 

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. “Well,” he said hesitatingly, “if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.”

 

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.

 

She was a sweet, silver-haired oldtimer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, “Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.”

 

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, “I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.”

 

“Yes,” she continued. “Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And,” she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, “tell him I still love him. You know,” she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, “I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…”

 

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?”

 

I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I think I’ll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.”

 

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, “Hey, wait a minute! That’s Mr. Goldstein’s wallet. I’d know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He’s always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times.”

 

“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked as my hand began to shake.

 

“He’s one of the oldtimers on the 8th floor. That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.” I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse’s office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.

 

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, “I think he’s still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He’s a darling old man.”

 

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, “Oh, it is missing!”

 

“This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?”

 

I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, “Yes, that’s it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”

 

“No, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”

 

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. “You read that letter?”

 

“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”

 

He suddenly grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,” he begged.

 

“She’s fine…just as pretty as when you knew her.” I said softly.

 

The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, “Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something, Mister? I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”

 

“Mr. Goldstein,” I said, “Come with me.”

 

We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

 

“Hannah,” she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. “Do you know this man?”

 

She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, “Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you remember me?”

 

She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it! Michael! It’s you! My Michael!” He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.

 

“See,” I said. “See how the Good Lord works! If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

 

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”

 

It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man.

 

The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see an 86-year-old bride and an 89-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.

 

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 70 years.

DARN THAT ZAC EFRON!

Darn that Zac Efron! Why was he born so late?

I've seen all 3 High School Musical movies, courtesy of my kids, and I really appreciated Zac Efron. I've also seen him in Hairspray and I thought he really got talent. But it wasn't until I saw his movie "17 Again" that I started to see him in a diferent light. He's one hot, hunky dude! And he's definitely grown up! I can feel my heart fluttering when he walked in slo-mo in that "makeover-to-17" scene. Damn that kid, why did he have to be so darn yummy? And to make matters worse, he was having scenes with this "older" woman that was his movie wife! I could hear myself sigh and groan wistfully. Vanesssa hudgens is one lucky girl! What I would give to be in her shoes for just one day, haha!

Moviewise, the plot is nothing new, another one of those "transformation" movies where the hero finds ways to redeem himself or herself or find a way to redo things in the past...pretty much ho-hum. But casting Zac Efron? That was the saving grace, haha! I find the movie refreshingly funny, and I certainly enjoyed it better than "The Hangover".

Oh, dear, does this mean I'll be collecting Zac Efron movies? Hmmm...we'll see...

DUTY WOES

Whew! What a toxic duty! 3 post-cardiac surgery patients with all sorts of arrhythmias imaginable: vtach, atrial fib, brady, paced beats...my eyes were glued to the monitors the whole time! Everytime the alarm goes off, I feel like having my own arrhythmia! To top it off, I'll be on night shift later...

STAYIN' ALIVE!

CPR STUDY SUGGESTS "STAYIN' ALIVE" LIVES UP TO NAME

CHICAGO – “Stayin’ Alive” might be more true to its name than the Bee Gees ever could have guessed: At 103 beats per minute, the old disco song has almost the perfect rhythm to help jump-start a stopped heart.

The American Heart Association recommends 100 chest compressions per minute, far more than most people realize, study author Dr. David Matlock of the school’s Peoria, Ill., campus said.

He found that “Stayin’ Alive,” which has a way of getting stuck in your head anyway, can help with that.

His study involved 15 students and doctors and had two parts. First they did CPR on mannequins while listening to the song on iPods. They were asked to time chest compressions with the song’s beat.

The study showed the song helped people who already know how to do CPR, and the results were promising enough to warrant larger, more definitive studies with real patients or untrained people, Matlock said.

It turns out the American Heart Association has been using the song as a training tip for CPR instructors for about two years. They learned of it from a physician “who sort of hit upon this as a training tool,” said association spokesman Dr. Vinay Nadkarni of the University of Pennsylvania.

Dr. Matthew Gilbert, a 28-year-old medical resident, was among participants in the University of Illinois study this past spring. Since then, he said, he has revived real patients by keeping the song in his head while doing CPR.

Gilbert said he was surprised the song worked as well as it did.

“I was a little worried because I’ve been told that I have a complete lack of rhythm,” he said. Also, Gilbert said he’s not really a disco fan. But “Stayin’ Alive” work wonders!

ALL HEARTS

My all hearts photo collection in a slideshow...

MY TRANSFORMERS2: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN EXPERIENCE

Okay, after months of anticipation, I finally got to watch the much-talked about sequel. Of course, I resisted the urge to see it on the very first day when the theaters were jampacked. That would have been an exasperating experience with all those jostling bodies, bobbing heads, and noisy commentaries during the movie. My kids and I watched it on the second to the last day of its first week. Even then, there was still a considerable number of moviegoers, proving the movie's global box-office sell.

What do I think? Hmm...when my fifth-grade son asked me "wasn't Bumblebee's voicebox fixed at the end of the first movie?" I couldn't answer him. Then we got lost in the action-packed movie scenes, and I just stopped thinking. We went home with our heads still reeling from the action. We were on a high, what a ride. Great, amazing movie, exactly the kind of movie that will make you forget your problems and worries.

Later, when I was considerably subdued, I started thinking. Then I found myself asking some questions. Days after the movie opened, I deliberately avoided reading reviews of the movie because I didn't want to be influenced. Now I found out that it didn't fare too well with the critics. Okay, fine, for its entertainment value, I give it a 10. I think that's the only thing that matters to the producers. But I couldn't help but agree with some of the critics. I found an article exactly mirroring my sentiments and questions.

1. In "Transformers," there was this giant battle in the middle of downtown Los Angeles -- excuse me, Mission City -- that was witnessed by thousands of people at the very least. But somehow the government was able to cover up the whole thing, and now the existence of alien robots is just an internet rumor? How did they do it? Pay off everyone who was there and quickly fix millions of dollars in damage? Also, didn't Keller (Jon Voight) go on TV and tell everyone we were being attacked by "a technological civilization far superior to our own"? How did they spin that?

2. There are two pieces of the Allspark cube left: the military has one under lock and key, and Sam discovers another. The Decepticons steal one and bring Megatron back to life. But when Sam (Shia LaBeouf) wants to bring back Optimus, he has to find the Matrix of Leadership on the other side of the globe. Why not use the other piece? Mikaela (Megan Fox) has it in her backpack the whole time. It brought his kitchen appliances to life, why can't it do the same for Optimus?

To read more of these questions, and the gaping holes in the plot, click the link:

http://movies.yahoo.com/feature/smg-transformers-10-questions.html

But what do we care, right? We had a blast, it was FUN, that's all that matters.

GOODBYE, MICHAEL

He may be strange, a wacko, eccentric...but there's no denying he was a musical genius, his creative talent in a class of his own, a true musical legend. The music industry suffered a tremendous loss. Despite his global fame, ironically, he was a very, very, lonely man. But at least now he finally found the peace that has eluded him all his life...rest in peace, Michael Jackson...

http://omg.yahoo.com/news/michael-jackson-king-of-pop-dead-at-50/24346?nc

TRANSFORMERS!

Can't wait to see the Michael Bay sequel! Shia's even yummier! It's gonna be a blast!

ANG GALING NI BEBENG!

Ang galing ni Bebeng!!! Pinoy talaga!

Registered nurse si Bebeng sa L.A. Kasama niya ang kanyang ina na nagpagamot doon. Namatay ang ina nito. Dahil sa kamahalan ng pamasahe pabalik sa Pilipinas, nagtipid si Bebeng. Pinauwi na lang niya ang kabaong ng kanyang ina na mag-isa.

Pagdating ng kabaong, napansin ng mga kapamilya niya na nakadikit ang mukha ng ina sa salamin ng ataul. Nagkomento tuloy ang isang anak, "Ay, naku! Tingnan mo 'yan...hindi sila marunong mag-ayos ng bangkay sa Amerika! Nakudrado tuloy ang mukha ng inay."

Upang ayusin ang itsura ng bangkay, binuksan ang kabaong. Aba! May sulat na-nakastaple sa dibdib ng ina. Kinuha nila ito at binasa. Ang nilalaman
ng liham na mula kay Bebeng:

Mahal kong tatay at mga kapatid:

Pasensya na kayo at hindi ko nasamahan ang nanay sa pag-uwi riyan sa Pilipinas dahil napakamahal ng pamasahe. Ang gastos ko pa lang sa kanya ay mahigit $10,000 na. Ayoko nang isipin pa ang eksaktong halaga. Anyway, ipinadala ko kasama ni nanay ang mga sumusunod...

Nasa likod ni nanay ang dalawampu't apat na karnenorte at isang dosenang spam. Ang adidas na suot ni nanay ay para kay tatay. Ang limang pares ng de-goma ay nasa loob ng dalawang asul na Jansport na backpack na inuunan ni nanay. Tig-iisa kayo.

Ang iba't-ibang klase ng tsokolate at candy ay nasa puwetan ni nanay. Para sa mga bata ito. Bahala na kayong magparte-parte. Sana'y hindi natunaw. Ang pokemon stuffed toy na yapos-yapos ni nanay ay para sa bunso ni ate. Gift ko sa first birthday ng bata. Ang itim na Esprit bag ay para kay Nene.

Ate, nasa loob ng bag ang pictures ni inay, japanese version ng pokemon trading cards at stickers. Suot ni nanay ang tatlong Ralph Lauren, apat na Gap at dalawang Old Navy t-shirts. Ang isa ay para kay Kuya at tig-iisa ang mga pamangkin ko. Maisusuot ninyo ang mga iyan sa fiesta.

Suot din ni inay ang anim na panty hose at tatlong warmer para sa mga dalaga kong pamangkin. Isuot nyo sa party. May isang dosenang NBA caps sa may paanan ni nanay. Para sa inyo, itay, kuya, dikong, Tiyo Romy. Bigyan nyo na rin ng tig-isa 'yung mga pamangkin ko at 'yong isa ay kay Pareng Tulume.

Ang tigdadalawang pares ng Nike wristband at knee caps na suot-suot din ni nanay ay para sa mga anak mo, diko, na nagbabasketball. Tigdadalawang ream ng Marlboro lights at Winston red ang nasa pagitan ng mga hita ni nanay.

Apat na jar ng Skippy Peanut Butter, dalawang dishwashing liquid, isang Kiwi glass cleaner at tig-aanim na Colgate at Aqua Fresh ang nakasiksik sa kilikili ni nanay. Hati-hati na kayo, huwag mag-aagawan.

Isang dosenang Wonder bra (Victoria's Secret ata ang tatak) gustong-gusto ni Tiya Iskang society natin, suot-suot din ni nanay. Alam kong inaasam-asam nyo 'yan, tiya. Anim na lipstick lang ang kasya sa bra. Ang Rolex na bilin-bilin mo tatay, suot-suot ni nanay. Nakatakip sa Nike na wristband. Kunin mo agad, Itay.

May isinisik akong zip-loc sa bunganga ni Inay na naglalaman ng $759 dollars. Hindi na ako nakatakbo sa ATM. Puede na siguro sa libing iyon.

Iyong tong na makokolekta, i-time deposit niyo Kuya para pag namatay si Tatay may pambili na ng ataul. Ang hikaw, singsing at kuwintas (na may nakakabit pang anim na nailcutters) na gustong-gusto mo, ditse, ay suot-suot din ni nanay. Kunin mo na rin agad, ditse. Ibigay mo ang isang nailcutter kay Jay bakla sa kanto.

Tanggalin niyo ang bulak sa ilong ng inay, may isiniksik ako 3 diyamante sa bawat butas. Ibangon niyo lang si inay at tiyak na malalaglag na ang mga iyon. Konting alog lang siguro ng ulo.

Marami pa sana akong ipaglalalagay kaya lang, baka mag-excess at si nanay pa ang maiwan. Basta parte-parte kayo, tatay, kuya, ate, dikong, ditse. Para sa inyo lahat ito. Bahala na kayo kay nanay. Pamimisahan ko na lang siya rito.

Balitaan ninyo na lang ako pagkatapos ng libing. Alam ni ate ang email ko. Paki-double check ang lista kung walang nawala sa mga ipinadala ko.

Nagmamahal,
Bebeng

MEN GROW OLDER TOO!

Lighten up on the ladies! Men grow older too, as these pics will prove! Recognize them?

STOP WHINING, Y'ALL!! KRIS IS THE NEW IDOL!

Well, what did I tell you? All the hype and brouhaha over Adam Lambert didn't help him clinch the title after all! You may all call it the biggest upset, but for me, I already had the inkling weeks before when Kris started showing strong performances. All the fawning and Adam-worshipping were getting to be too much, in the end, it's the underrated underdog who captured the title. Shame on all of you who thinks America got it wrong! America just elected Obama, for Pete's sake! This should be an eye-opener, a moment of realization that true TALENT prevails over flashy, eyelined showmanship with overrated hype machine. In fairness to Adam, he's a good performer, a good showman, but that's all he excels in. Kris plays the piano, plays the guitar, a songwriter, a TRUE-BLOODED musician! I could listen to a Kris CD all day, but an Adam CD? More than an hour's worth of screaming with that voice? I don't think so!

Adam fans, c'mon, Adam's already a star, title or no title, thanks to all the hype; Kris needed the title more. And if y'all could just stop whining and thrashing and OMG-ing and be objective about it, you'd realize Kris is a deserving winner. You go, Kris!

And please, please, don't make this about homophobia, religion, or all that crap, coz those are totally out of the question! Here's what others have to say:

Aunty-Guv: Buy a clue folks - Kris had the real musical talent - A true musician who was rewarded for his talents - Adam - simply a showman whose screaming finally was his undoing. Kris is an artist - Adam a Flash (In the Pan!!)

Yahoo Music user: Get over it. All season it's been "ADAM IS AWESOME!! Everyone else sucks!" You love him, we get it. That doesn't mean "America" got it wrong or we are all homophobes. Everyone has their own taste, that's why there is more than one radio station. And could you go one article without hating on Danny? Did he do something personally to you to make you hate him so much? I don't care for Adam's singing, but I can admit he is talented and a good person. Both Adam and Kris will be fine. I am sure Adam is glad he lost because now he doesn't have to sing that horrendous "coronation" song.

BrnxBmbr: Thats right losers!!! Adam is and always has been nothing more than a wannabe broadway performer. He is not a musician - he's a drama queen. PLAIN AND SIMPLE!!! All of you who disagree - get your hearing checked. Real musicians prevail - fakers do not... as CLEARLY shown tonight. Congrats Kris. Some of us knew you were the real Idol, not drama queen Adam.

AmandaLea321: does it really matter who the "idol champion" is anymore? i mean, last year archie and cook both got recording deals with the 19 management. i think the same will happen this year as well. kris will get a recording deal and so will adam. it really doesn't matter who wins the coveted "idol champion" spot...the recording contract isn't solely for the "winner"...its not exclusive anymore...the top two are getting the record deals...and not just the winner. kinda takes credibility away from the show a bit. i am very happy kris won..i liked adam but like lindsy mentioned, i got tired of ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE forcing adam in my face and down my throat. and also, i don't think adam needs american idol to become successful. he will do much better on his own. i think kris will do well also. he's creative and artistic..i think he is more of a total package...just my opinion. YAY FOR KRIS ALLEN!!!

christieB: Come on, that's not fair. America can't "get it wrong", because in the end, it's America's choice. America clearly prefers someone who doesn't need to go off on stroke-like shrieks in order to complete *every* song. The first time I heard Glambert sing one of his screaming songs I said "Wow, he's so unique". The 15th time, that wasn't my reaction. He is a very good singer, but (just my opinion) a bit of a one-trick-pony. At least Kris has some versatility.

AmandaLea: OKAY HOLD UP!!! NOW YA'LL GONNA START PERSECUTING SOMEONE ELSE'S RELIGION!!?? YOU SAY KRIS ALLEN WON CUZ OF "CHRISTIAN VOTE"? THAT IS FU**ED UP!!!! THIS DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH RELIGION OR HOMOPHOBIA!! WOW!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE SOME OF YOU HAVE STOOPED THAT LOW...BLAMING A RELIGION OR SEXUAL ORIENTATION JUST CUZ YOU'RE FAV DIDN'T WIN...MY GOD!! ITS A TV SHOW...AMERICA VOTED!! AMERICANS OF ALL DIFFERENT WALKS OF LIFE!! NOT JUST A CERTAIN GROUP IN GENERAL! GET OFF IT PEOPLE!! sorry, but i just had to get that off my chest.

KizerSoze: Its incredible how blind you Adam fans are. You cant just come to grips that there is a huge amount of people that simply enjoy the singing style Kris possess instead of Adam's. No you cant come to grips with that, instead you do what all lowlife's do. You claim Adam lost because he is gay, you claim Adam lost because Kris is a church goer...you are all pathetic. If you want to shed the blame, blame the people that were completely biased. I for one enjoy that America did not blindly follow the stupid. Simon needs to stick to Britain Has Talent, and forget American Idol. The American Idol judges are completely unlikeable, biased, and moronic, and as a result make Simon look like a tard.

TK: Kris won because Kris appealed to more people... period. It wasn't Gokey fans... I couldn't stand Gokey.. had to fast forward through him tonight. Most Americans are obviously not fans of the theater and to like Adam you needed to like the theatrical. His talent is undeniable. When he sang normal.. I liked him. When he screamed.. I didn't. You talk like there is something wrong with the fact that Kris is a happily married church worship leader (didn't know he was a church worship leader by the way). I'm telling you what... most of America seems to be messed up if they think there is something wrong with that. I could care less about Adam's lifestyle...that would be his choice and his business.. I just didn't like his music style and obviously the majority of the people voting didn't since he didn't win...GET OVER IT.

YahooMusic User: Don't, don't, don't ever believe this had anything to do with anything other than the music. What's so hard for all you Adam Lambert fans out there to understand that there is a large portion of America that doesn't like being shrieked at, on key or otherwise. Kris is just much more marketable to a larger audience, plain and simple.

Maybe...just maybe, next year, the judges won't fawn, slobber, and otherwise crown their favorite as the winner before America speaks. Adam is a talented guy and will do well regardless of the outcome....but I for one got tired of the endless, over-the-top gushing on the part of the judges. It seemed like America was getting the judges' choice rammed down their throats, and probably created a huge backlash.

Deahh: I think Adam is a very talented singer, probably the most talented in the competition this year. But the contest isn't about being the best singer, the contest is about being the best singer that people want to hear.The fact that he endears himself to you and most of your readers (judging by the comments I read most of the season) means simply that you and your readers love him. It also means that the more reserved, less vocal majority liked Kris.The end result will be meaningless in a year or two anyways. I disagree with you and truly believe Kris will have better, more long term success - but I'm not hating on Adam, I just don't think he has "widespread" appeal.As someone who has been a fan of "rockers" since he left the womb 34 years ago, I can tell you I would likely never buy a Lambert album while I can see myself buying a Kris Allen album. And while my rock music collection is quite large, at this point he doesn't even register. I don't even think he really fit well with Kiss tonight. He soft vocals are superb, and his high notes, while annoying, are good. It's his up-tempo, middle ground that I find lacking.

KizerSoze: Kris is humble enough to be suprised by winning since everyone on the show and with visible power, such as this blog was against him. Hence his shock, and comment over Adam not winning. He does not believe for a second he does not deserve it, he just has class. Unlike Adam who actually picked sides when he was asked who he should stand with earlier in the show. Again you all like to spin things into Adam's favor. Sad that you all can't be happy that a regular citizen had this opportunity and made his dream come true. A lot of you are truly sour individuals.

Mike K - MCP President: Singers ALWAYS beat the screamers. Next time you wanna mess with what REAL music is, I'll come at you like an oncoming train!