The Rain Girl

• August 2011
  Maggie Curry
  John F Kennedy '15
  The Senior class of Wynona High only had a month left of school when Mrs. McCarthy's heart quit. They figured it must have been the stress of educating 18 year olds for the past 20 years combined with the announcement that her retirement was officially another twenty years off. Lucky for her, her heart restarted after about five minutes. Unlucky for her, she still had to have a triple bypass.
  
  
  Mrs. McCarthy hadn't been a hardass, but she did know when to lay down the law. For Rylee and Deb, this was not a problem. They were good girls, they did their homework on time, they were both going to college. So sometimes they got a little too silly in the back of the class - sometimes life was just funny.
  
  
  At the moment Rylee was shuffling her way down the hall, nearly running over a freshman who dodged in front of her. She irritably tweeted how glad she would be when high school was over, then swung the corner into English in Media. She had her mouth open, ready to tell Deb, her best friend, all about the new most-talked-about couple, when she saw him.
  
  
  At first she thought he might be an exchange student, or even a student teacher. He was leaning against McCarthy's desk, his arms crossed in a white checkered button up. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his skin was a deep tan. His legs, clad in black khaki pants, crossed at the ankle. Even with him half-sitting she had to look up to see his face. He was young, she was right about that. His hair was dark and tousled, like he'd been resting his head on his hand. His mouth was set in a firm line, as if he was afraid anyone would say anything to doubt him. His light green eyes, almost silver, swept the classroom, taking everything in. Including her.
  
  
  Rylee hurried over to Deb, carefully giving her stride extra swing. Okay, so she knew how bad it was to flirt with teachers, even substitutes. She'd been right there teasing girls who did. But today she felt good. She felt powerful. She felt - just a little bit - naughty.
  
  
  Throwing her own dark locks over her shoulder, she settled back into her chair. She surreptitiously tugged on the hem of her soft light blue tanktop, pulling the neckline down another inch. She was 18, it was her last month of high school, and she deserved some fun.
  
  
  Deb was already full steam into what she'd heard about Matthew and Allison - how they'd met, what she'd been wearing, how long they'd been friends, how long it would last. Rylee listened with half an ear and listened to the substitute with the other. He was introducing himself - writing it on the white board, not the smartboard - Mr. Walker. Rylee smiled. If his first name is James, I'm sold.
  
  
  "Ladies in the back," Walker called out. "If you don't mind, I do have a lesson today." Most of the class turned to look at them. Normally, Rylee would have given a weak smile and nodded, just like Deb was doing now. But today Rylee felt different. Today Rylee was different.
  
  
  "Sure thing," she gave a wink and wiggled her fingers at her friend Jasmine up in the first row. Jasmine shot her a questioning look and turned around.
  
  
  For the next two weeks, life went on just like this. Rylee was her normal good girl self everywhere else, but once she entered that classroom she was a goner. She was coy, she talked back, she teased. She was basically every young male substitute teacher's nightmare, and she knew it.
  
  
  She'd known she was playing a game, or at least believed it, until the day Ms. Peterson from next door came in. "James, can I borrow the CD player?"
  
  
  It was like the world slowed down and sped up at the same time. Rylee had the suspicious feeling she really, really had a crush, and now she knew that the game she was playing would have to end before someone - probably both of them - got hurt. Or fired. But even as half her brain was screeching warning signs, the other half was repeating his name over and over. James Walker.
  
  
  As much as she resolved to stop messing around, she continued to act out. It was like she was possessed. Eventually Mr. James Walker got fed up with scolding her and moved her to the front row, sending Jasmine to the back. It didn't help. Even she was appalled by the things that came out of her mouth - she was pretty sure at one point she called him hunky boy.
  
  
  It was the day before graduation, and she was working the school festival that night. She had been working the Band booth, which had stick-on tattoos of the school motto, with Andrew St. James. His girlfriend Jean had come over, however, and Rylee figured they could handle everything long enough for her to eat something. She'd just managed to push through most of the crowd around the dance floor the Show Choirs had erected when the flashlight they were using as a spotlight hit her.
  
  
  "Hey, Rylee!" Amanda yelled from up stairs. "Come on up, we need another volunteer!" Rylee cringed as the crowd around her looked at her. A group of football players in the corner began to chant her name. Sighing, she put on her best Show Choir face and joined Amanda on stage to cheers.
  
  
  "What am I doing?" she whispered.
  
  
  "It's a partner contest. Just let the gentleman lead," Amanda whispered back. "You're going to be with Mr. Walker. He's one of the substitutes."
  
  
  Rylee's head snapped around. She imagined her face showed the same horror she saw on his. "Amanda, maybe it's not appro-".
  
  
  "Don't be afraid! Come on, we have to get started." Amanda dumped her next to Mr. James Walker.
  
  
  They stood awkwardly as Amanda told the audience what was happening. "So, why'd you enter?" Rylee asked.
  
  
  "Ms. Sullivan tricked me into it." Mr. Walker seemed to spit the name.
  
  
  "She was sick today, huh?" Rylee smiled. "So can you dance?"
  
  
  "Can you?" He retorted.
  
  
  "You'll have to see," She taunted back. Amanda gave the call to start the dance. In seconds Mr. Walker had pulled her against him and swept her into a fast swing to match the music. As Rylee twisted and flew, she began to laugh. She felt cheesy, like something out of an 80s movie, but she was having the time of her life. The red gypsy skirt she'd worn flew out around her as he spun her, and when he pulled her back in to do a quick step Rylee suspected belonged to a salsa she gave him her best grin. "You are a good dancer," she murmured, raising her leg up in a kick he quickly shifted into an arabesque by turning her.
  
  
  "Same for yourself," he replied, giving her a returning grin. Rylee watched him do another complicated step, twisting their legs around each other, and was impressed by the fact he hadn't broken a sweat. "My brother teaches dance," he explained, catching her train of thought.
  
  
  "He does it well," she replied, and it was then that they noticed the music had stopped. Rylee was cradled against him, her leg up on his hip, her skirt draped over her thigh. Their faces were inches apart, and he had their arms locked above their heads. Rylee had seen it a million times in movies, a common dance move they used on Dancing With The Stars.
  
  
  Quickly they seperated. However common it was, it was somehow wrong when a teacher and student did it, even two four years apart in age.
  
  
  Amanda broke the silence by announcing their win. The crowd gave a cheer as they were presented with crowns by the Prom Queen. She gave Rylee a smile, and Mr. Walker a wink. Rylee looked up and was surprised to see him tint red in a blush.
  
  
  Rylee hid out by her booth the rest of the night. Lots of people stopped by to comment on her win, and more then a few boys offered to help her relive the last pose. Rylee didn't see Mr. Walker the rest of the evening.
  
  
  She watched the last two people - Matthew and Allison - come out of the gym and leave in his truck. She folded up the last booth, cursing herself for signing up for tear down. She heaved the long table up and was just getting ready to kick open the door to the gym when it was pulled from the inside. Rylee stumbled for a second, trying to keep the table balanced. A familiar hand reached out of the darkness to grab it. Their eyes met, and Mr. Walker silently helped her carry it into the gym to lean against the others.
  
  
  It wasn't till they were back outside and started off in the same direction that he broke the silence. "You didn't drive?"
  
  
  "Didn't you?" She replied, crossing her arms.
  
  
  "I actually live near here." He stuck his hands in his pockets. Rylee noticed the cheap cardboard crown stuck in the back pocket of his pants. Then she realized it probably looked like she was staring at his butt.
  
  
  "Me too," Rylee hurriedly glanced up at the nearest streetlamp. They were widely spaced down the road, and it was dark in between them. She shivered.
  
  
  "Are you cold?" He asked, looking over at her.
  
  
  She shook her head. "Just one of those full body things."
  
  
  "You have goosebumps," he protested.
  
  
  "So do you," she pointed out. He mumbled something in response, but Rylee didn't hear. "What?" She asked, stepping closer.
  
  
  "Nothing," he sighed. "Where are you walking to?"
  
  
  "I live just over on Meadow." He gave her a look of surprise. "Nuh-uh," she smiled, understanding his look. "You too?" At his nod she let out a long laugh. "All these years," she shook her head sadly, half joking.
  
  
  "No kidding," he said in the same tone. This time it was her turn to look surprised. "Oh, come off it. You've been baiting me all month."
  
  
  "Not like that," Rylee protested.
  
  
  "Exactly like that," he mimicked. "And that dance tonight?"
  
  
  "You can not blame that on me. I'm actually a horrible dancer."
  
  
  "No, you're not. I was there, and I definitely did not teach you any of that."
  
  
  "Maybe I just needed the right partner," Rylee said innocently. Their eyes met, and Rylee gave another shiver.
  
  
  He stopped walking in front of a white and red brick two-story. "Your house?" Rylee asked, thinking how many times she'd ridden her bike past.
  
  
  "My parents," he corrected. Then he grinned. "I seem real mature now, huh? Living with my parents and little brother."
  
  
  "I can't not say the same thing," Rylee gave a small smile. "I'm just a few houses up. The ranch."
  
  
  James - when had she started to think of him as James? - looked past her towards her house. "You're the rain girl," he said quietly.
  
  
  "What?" Rylee asked, looking where he was, then back at his face.
  
  
  "You dance in the rain during thunderstorms." James turned to look at her, and Rylee's arms rose in goosebumps at how close they were. "I used to watch you. We all did. You used the thunder as your drums and the lightning as your spotlight. Wow, that sounded cheesy." He gave her a small smile. "But it really was amazing." His eyes met hers in an unflinching gaze. "Do you still?"
  
  
  "Still what?" She asked. She was embarrassed by how breathy her voice sounded, but he didn't seem to notice.
  
  
  "Are you still the rain girl?"
  
  
  The distance seemed to shrink even more. "I haven't danced like that again until tonight," she whispered honestly.
  
  
  "That's too bad. I always wanted to try it." Was it just her, or was he getting closer?
  
  
  "Try what?" She asked, failing to keep her mind on the conversation as she realized he was only a few inches away.
  
  
  "This," he answered, and then he used the same move he had earlier to start the dance, only this time he kept her against him as he brought his lips down.
  
  
  Whatever Rylee had expected, this wasn't it.
  
  
  It was so much more.
  
  
  She'd never felt so right, so fast. She felt his hand press against her back, felt the same urgency as she leaned into him. Her arms went up and around his neck, pulling his head down closer. "God, you're the best kisser," he whispered against her lips. "You're amazing."
  
  
  "This is the part you shut up," she laughed, then took over the kiss. He gave a grunt of surprise, but let her.
  
  
  It was only when the streetlamp flickered that she pulled away. They stared at each other, their breath shallow in the night. Rylee felt giddy, and a little bit light headed, but she couldn't ignore reality. "I graduate tomorrow," she whispered. "and I'm going to the University this fall."
  
  
  He leaned his forehead down against hers, and she welcomed the contact. "I want to make this work," he whispered back. "Rylee, we can do this. Somehow. You never know, they might need teacher's up there too," he joked.
  
  
  She laughed and slipped away. "I don't know, James, but thanks for the practice." She grinned and waved as she started walking backwards up the sidewalk.
  
  
  "Don't you dare do that with anyone else," he called after her.
  
  
  "Or what? You'll give me detention?"
  
  
  "More like a spanking," she heard him say under his breath.
  
  
  "Don't worry, after that I don't think anybody could live up to it." She turned, but not before she saw the grin split his face.
  
  
  "All these years," James said to himself as he watched her go. "And I finally meet the rain girl."

Total Physical Response

Breakthrough in Brain Research:

Learning Languages Without Stress

James J. Asher, Ph.D.
Originator of the Total Physical Response,
known worldwide as TPR.

Winner of the Outstanding Professor Award from San Jose State University,
founded before the Civil War in 1857 as the oldest public university in California.
SJSU has 30,000 students and a faculty of 1,800 Ph.Ds.

When I told a colleague recently that it is now possible, with our advanced understanding of the brain, to acquire a foreign language fast and without stress, he replied, “ My experience in school tells me otherwise.”

That cynicism is understandable since the track record of foreign language instruction is only about five success stories for every 100 students enrolled. Most of us recognize the features in the traditional school curriculum:

Please listen and repeat after me.
Let’s analyze this sentence to point out the grammar rule for the day.
Open your books and complete the exercise on page 25.
Memorize this list of vocabulary.
Open your books to page 63 and translate the first paragraph.
Let’s practice putting the appropriate direct object in the correct place in this sentence.

Only about five percent of all students who start the study of a second language in a traditional program continue on to achieve fluency in speaking, reading and writing. Ninety-five percent of all those students with good intentions say, “I give up.” And then they jump to the harmful conclusion: “I guess I am no good at foreign languages.” This may be the reason that thirty states have now discontinued the study of a second language in high school as a “required course.”

Parents would like to have their children acquire another language or two especially since America now seems to be competing with everyone else in the world for jobs. But, from their own experience in school, parents feel that the effort in traditional classes is a “waste of time.” Better to invest time in something useful such as small appliance repair or ballroom dancing.

This is a kind of imaginary national dyslexia about foreign languages which I observed listening to an American tourist say to an Italian street vendor in Rome, “Now don’t expect me to speak to you in Italian. I’m an American and you know how poor we are in foreign languages.”

While the traditional curriculum with slow-motion learning still dominates education, thousands of instructors worldwide have discoveThere are no “methods” in foreign language education. A method implies a formula and a formula implies science. All a myth! Teaching is an art, not a science. Teachers are artists, not scientists. And, “teaching” may be the highest art form because we are asking you all by yourself to hold the attention of an audience for an hour or more.

The audience is the students, and a teacher will attempt to hold the attention of the audience for one, two or three hours. That’s an eternity in any other art form such as “live” theater, movies, television, or radio. Most celebrities would not have the courage to stand up and hold your attention all by themselves for an hour or more.

Everyone thinks they can teach

Everyone thinks they can teach. All you do is stand up and talk, right? I can do that! It is like being a therapist. All you do is listen and nod your head. I can do that! Anyone can do that!

It’s like being a manager. Everyone thinks they can be a manager. All you do is boss people around. I can do that! (Incidentally, the first woman to become an admiral in the United States Navy was interviewed on 60 Minutes and made this observation: “You manage things. You don’t manage people. You lead people.”)

If you think back on instructors who inspired you or managers who motivated you—they can be counted on one hand. Teaching, counseling and management require talent like playing a musical instrument or singing an aria or excelling in a sport.

Instead of “methods,” a teacher has a “box of tools”

There is no method, no mechanical procedure that will shoo anyone along to success in teaching. Although teaching is not a science, science offers us many powerful tools with this caveat. One tool will not work for all tasks. Ask any fine woodworker. A power router will not drill holes, saw wood, pound nails or strip off layers of paint. A power router will only make patterns in wood.

So, a talented teacher has a box of tools. My model here is Dr. Richard P. Feynman, the Nobel prize-winning physicist who explained his secret of success in solving problems this way: “I simply reached in and rummaged through my box of mathematical tools to find something that might work to solve a specific problem.”

Now, where do we start

Definitely, comprehension comes first before speaking, reading or writing. Research, by myself and colleagues, established this principle in pioneer studies of Spanish, Japanese, Russian, French, and German completed with the support of grants from the Office of Education, the Office of Naval Research, the Department of Defense, and the State of California. No follow-up study by anyone in the world has contradicted the concept of comprehension first.

Comprehension first is a simple idea that is not widely understood. People think they get it, but few really do. There are three excellent reasons why it is critical that comprehension be the first skill acquired by language students:

• Throughout recorded history
In any language and in any culture, there is no record of infants speaking before they comprehend a huge chunk of the target language. Infants are silent for at least one year while they internalize a map of the target language. During this silent one year period, infants internalize a blueprint of phonology, grammar and semantics before they utter anything intelligible such as “Mommy” or “Daddy.” They achieve this stunning mapping that I call “language-body” conversations (which is the essence of a technique I call the Total Physical Response, known world wide as TPR).
Notice that caretakers utter directions such as, “Look at me!” “Look at me!” and the baby turns her head in the direction of the voice. “She is looking at me!” “She is looking at me!” As the baby develops, the directions become more and more complex such as: “ Pick up your spoon!” “Don’t spit up on your bib!” Don’t make a fist when I’m trying to put on your coat!” “Take your toy and put it on the bed in your room!” The child is silent but responds with an appropriate physical action. The “silent period” is essential preparation for the appearance of speech.
• Locations in the brain
The second reason for Comprehension First is the brain. Comprehension and speaking are located in different parts of the brain. Comprehension is in Wernicke’s Area which is in the temporal lobe while speaking is in Broca’s Area located in the left frontal lobe.
If Wernicke’s Area is damaged, the patient can speak but may not be able to understand what people are saying. If Broca’s Area is injured, one may understand but be unable to speak. If still another area of the brain is injured, there is apraxia — a person forgets to do ordinary things such as how to brush one’s teeth.

• If comprehension is important, then why not…
If comprehension is important, then why not translate? Translation sounds good, but it does not work very well. The reason: The student’s brain perceives what the instructor is saying in the target language as lies, lies, lies. And the brain will not store lies in long-term memory. Remember Mark Twain’s comment, “ If you tell the truth, you don’t have to have a good memory.”
Why is translation one lie after another? Here is how the brain interprets: Everyone in this room except one person has hundreds of valid experiences that this is a “chair,” this is a “table” and this is a “door.” Only one person, the instructor, asserts that this is a “kursi,” this is a “taula,” and this is a “bob.” Someone is crazy or lying, and it isn’t us. It must be the instructor! That’s why there is only momentary understanding with translation that disappears for most students before they walk out of the classroom.

My next recommendation: Doodling

“Doodling” is a strange idea! My inspiration is the clarinetist, Benny Goodman.

I played the clarinet in our high school orchestra and when I listened to Benny recently on a CD, I was thunderstruck by the purity of every note. It was as if God was inside Benny guiding his fingers over the keys.

When Benny Goodman was once asked, “Benny, we notice that you doodle on the instrument everywhere you go, even to the rest room. Why do you do that?” Goodman answered, “Doodling is the difference between being ‘good’ and being ‘great.’”

I mentioned the Nobel laureate in physics, Dr. Richard P. Feynman. He was a doodler. He messed around with concepts that most people would consider too sacred to tinker with — such as trigonometry. Using a book borrowed from the library, Feynman studied trig on his own as a teenager because he wanted to be a scientist someday. But the names of trig functions printed in the textbook did not make sense to him. So he created his own names! It worked beautifully until he earned a doctorate in physics and began working with other physicists who did not know what he was talking about. Whoa! Time to go back and memorize the textbook labels — which he did in a flash.

My recommendation: Encourage your students to doodle with the language. Working the daily assignments is not enough. Students need to play with the language like a toy. My model here is Dr. Sam Slick, former chairman of the Foreign Language Department at Southern Mississippi State University where I was invited to speak a few years ago.

At lunch, I asked Sam: “You are one of the few people who acquired your fluency in the Spanish language at school rather than home. How did you do it? What is your secret?” Here is what he confided: “I played with Spanish rather than merely worked at it. For example, when I drove to or from school, I would make up imaginary conversations in Spanish with imaginary friends. People passing me must have thought I was crazy muttering to myself, but it worked. Suddenly the entire language opened up to me. Before, the language was out there in front of me, and then one day, bang! It was suddenly inside me!”

I understand that we want our children to sound like a native speaker, but...

If we want students to play with the language, then interrupting them to correct pronunciation is counterproductive, especially for beginning students. We need to be as tolerant of mistakes as we are of infants acquiring their first language. Gradually, student pronunciation will shape itself in the direction of the native speaker.

However, the evidence* is clear-cut on this point: Students have the best chance of acquiring a near-native accent if the language experience starts early, before puberty. After puberty, almost everyone will have some accent, even if they live for fifty years in a country where the target language is spoken.

The first psychologist to win a Nobel Prize

Since Roger Sperry’s Nobel prize-winning experiment with cats showing that each hemisphere of the brain can think independently, 4,000 follow-up studies have been completed by researchers around the world. We have learned more about the remarkable differences between the right and left hemispheres in the past 50 years than we knew in the last 5,000 years. For example,

• Our brain has its own intelligence and is moving information at lightning velocity, below our radar of awareness, back and forth from one hemisphere to the other.
• Our brain knows the answer to a question one-half second or more before we do.
• The left hemisphere is like a train that can travel on one track only while the right can have many trains on multiple tracks traveling simultaneously. The stunning implication for learning languages is this: Second language instruction on the left side of the brain in a traditional class is slow-motion learning because input from the instructor is evaluated by the student’s brain as “lies” and therefore erased almost before the student stands up to leave the classroom.

But, playing to the right brain first with comprehension means that there is high-speed learning because (a) there is an absence of evaluation by the student’s brain, and (b) the student can understand multiple languages simultaneously without one language interfering with the other. The reason: The right brain does not know the difference between English, Spanish, Arabic or Chinese. To the right brain, these are just patterns which are stored without editing until called upon by the left hemisphere (the site for talking and critical thinking).

For the first time in education, if we play the brain’s game, static-free learning is possible. This means that without stress, children are now able to acquire in school, basic fluency simultaneously in multiple languages. For example, before children graduate from the 8th grade, they can acquire many languages with excellent pronunciation in each language. High school would then polish those linguistic skills to produce graduates fluent, for instance, in English, Chinese, and French, or English, Japanese and Arabic. Sound like science fiction? Not at all; it can be done. We now know how to do it!

*Evidence is reviewed in my book: Learning Another Language Through Actions (6th Ed.)

Comments or questions about this article?

Contact the writer at: tprworld@aol.com

Persistent Idiot

I manage a simple web site for my employer (a small charity), and owing to the purchase of a domain name I emailed the details of the new URL to several website owners who were known to have maintained links to us at our old address.

A couple weeks later I received this message:

"Dear John" (my name is not John). "Please send me your advertising rates"

A simple request. The only problem is that we have never carried advertising. I emailed him back:

"Dear ***, Thanks for your enquiry, but I am afraid that we do not carry advertising within our website"

Message returns:

"Dear John" (Doh!) "Yes, I would like to advertise on your web site - please let me know how much it will cost."

I replied in much the same vein as before i.e. We do not carry advertising. We will never carry advertising. We have never carried advertising. There are no rates. Go away.

Message returns:

"Dear John" (I'm getting tired of being called John). "I would like to renew the advertising that I had with you a while back. How much does it cost now?"

By now I'm getting a little pissed. I reply.

"Dear ***, As I have stated repeatedly, we have never carried advertising within our website. You cannot therefore renew advertising that we have never carried. In the unlikely event that we should start to carry advertising in the future then you will be the first to know, but don't hold your breath. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you would stop sending me requests for our advertising rates. We don't have any. Furthermore, my name is _not_ John (as you may see by reading the sig at the bottom of every message I have sent)."

Message returns yesterday:

"Dear John" (AAAAAAARGH!). "I enclose my copy for the advertising......."

My reply:

(Several hundred swear words deleted.)

"Dear ***, as you obviously do not understand plain English, try this for size. CONSIDER YOURSELF KILLFILED.

Actually I didn't send that reply - I just wish I had. He has, however, been added to my bozo list. I wonder if the schlemeil is gonna be visiting the web site daily, looking for his advertising.......

Logical Thinking

Two rednecks decided that they weren’t going anywhere in life and thought they should go to college to get ahead.
The first went in to see the counselor, who recommended him to take history or logical thinking class.
“What’s logical thinking?” the first redneck asked.
The professor answered, “Let me give you an example. Do you own a weed eater?”
“I sure do.”
“Then I can assume, using logical thinking, that you have a yard,” replied the professor.
“That’s real good!” said the redneck.
The professor continued, “Logic will also tell me that since you have a yard, you also own a house.”
Impressed, the redneck said, “Amazing!”
“And since you own a house, logic dictates that you have a wife.”
“That’s Betty Mae! This is incredible!”
The redneck was catching on.
“Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume that you are heterosexual,” said the professor.
“You’re absolutely right! Why that’s the most fascinating thing I ever heard! I can’t wait to take that logical thinking class!”
The redneck, proud of the new world opening up to him, walked back into the hallway where his friend was still waiting.
“So what class are ya taking’?” asked the friend.
“logical thinking class!” replied the first redneck.
“What the hell is logical thinking?” asked his friend.
“Let me give you an example. Do ya own a weed eater?” asked the first redneck.
“No,” his friend replied.
“You’re gay, ain’t ya?”

Unlucky Young Man..(just for joke)

A young man goes into a drug store to buy condoms.

The pharmacist says the condoms come in packs of 3, 9 or 12 and asks which the young man wants.

"Well," he said, "I've been seeing this girl for a while and she's really hot. I want the condoms because I think tonight's "the" night. We're having dinner with her parents, and then we're going out. And I've got a feeling I'm gonna get lucky after that."

"Once she's had me, she'll want me all the time, so you'd better give me the 12 pack."

The young man makes his purchase and leaves.

Later that evening, he sits down to dinner with his girlfriend and her parents. He asks if he might give the blessing and they agree. He begins the prayer, but continues praying for several minutes.

The girl leans over to him and says, "You never told me that you were such a religious person."

The boy leans over to her and whispers, "You never told me that your father is a pharmacist."

Loving an Imperfect Person

They have been married for two years. He loves literature and often posts his work on the net, but nobody ever reads them. He is also into photography and he handles their wedding photos. He loves her very much. Likewise with her. She has a quick temper and always bullies him. He is a gentleman and always gives in to her.

Today, she's being willful again.

Her: "Why can't you be the photographer for my friend's wedding? She promised she'd pay."
Him: "I don't have time that day."
Her: "Humph!"
Him: "Huh?"
Her: "Don't have time? Write less of those novels, and you will have all the time you need."
Him: "I... someone will definitely recognize my work some day."
Her: "Humph! I don't care, you'll have to do it for her!"
Him: "No."
Her: "Just this once?"
Him: "No."

Negotiation's broken. So, she gave the final warning: "Give me a Yes within three days, or else..."

First day, she "withheld" the kitchen, bathroom, computer, refrigerator, television, hi-fi... Except the double bed, to show her "benevolence".

Of course, she has to sleep on it too. He didn't mind, as he still has some cash in his pockets.

Second day, she conducted a raid and removed everything from his pockets and warned, "Seek any external help, and you bear the consequences."

He's nervous now. That night, on the bed, he begs for mercy, hoping that she'll end this state. She doesn't give a damn. No way am I giving in, whatever he says. Until he agrees.

Third day, night. On the bed. He's lying on the bed, looking to one side. She's lying on the bed, looking to the other side.

Him: "We need to talk."
Her: "Unless it's about the wedding, forget it."
Him: "It's something very important."

She remains silent.

Him:"Let's get a divorce."
She did not believe her ears.
Him: "I got to know a girl."

She's totally angry, and wanted to hit him. But she held it down, wanting to let him finish. But her eyes already felt wet. He took a photo out from his chest. Probably from his undershirt pocket, that's the only place she didn't go through yesterday. How careless.

Him: "She's a nice girl."
Her tears fell.

Him: "She has a good personality too."
She's heartbroken because he puts a photo of some other girl close to his heart.
Him: "She says that she'll support me fully in my pursue for literature after we got married."

She's very jealous because she said the same thing in the past.
Him: "She loves me truly."
She wishes to sit up and scream at him "Don't I?"
Him: "So, I think she won't force me to do something that I don't want to do."

She's thinking, but the rage won't subside.
Him: "Want to take a look at the photo I took for her?"
Her: "...!"

He brings the photo before her eyes. She's in a total rage, hits his hand away and leaves a burning slap on his face.

He sighs. She cries.
He puts the photo back to his pocket. She pulls her hand back under the blanket.

He turns off the light, and sleeps. She turns on the light, and sits up. He's asleep. She lost sleep. She regrets treating him the way she treated him.

She cried again, and thought about a lot of things. She wants to wake him up. She wants to have a intimate talk with him. She doesn't want to push him anymore. She stares at his chest. She wants to see how the girl looks.

She slips the photo out. She wanted to cry and she wanted to laugh.

It's a nicely taken photo. A photo he took for her. She bends down, and kissed him on his cheek.

He smiled. He was just pretending to be asleep.

"You learn to love, not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly."

The Salty Coffee

He met her at a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he was so normal, nobody paid attention to him.

At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised but due to being polite, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, and she thought to herself, "Please, let me go home..."

Suddenly he asked the waiter, "Would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee." Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously, "Why you have this hobby?" He replied, "When I was a little boy, I lived near the sea, I liked playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there." While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched. That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home... Then she also started to speak, spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family.

That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story. They continued to date. She found that actually he was a man who meets all her demands; he had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good person but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee! Then the story was just like every beautiful love story, the princess married to the prince, and then they were living the happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked it.

After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said, "My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life's lie. This was the only lie I said to you---the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything... Now I'm dying, I afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth, I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste... But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again."

Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday, someone asked her, "What's the taste of salty coffee?" She replied, "It's sweet."

Hii...happy birhday untuk kawanku

hoho...siou la o...kawan..tiada hadiah...tiada party...untuk ko...
hanya teks ucapan...selamat hari ulang tahun...semoga panjang umur dan sihat selalu...