Life Explained

On the first day, God created the dog and said, "Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years."


The dog said, "That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?" And God saw it was good.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said, "Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span."



The monkey said, "Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the dog did?" And God, again saw it was good.

On the third day, God created the cow and said, "You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years."



The cow said, "That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?" And God agreed it was good.

On the fourth day, God created humans and said, "Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years." But the human said, "Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?"

"Okay," said God, "You asked for it."

So that is why for our first twenty years, we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years, we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years, we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years, we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.

Two With One Blow

At the moment we are having warm weather, which flies like. They are not a plague but they are around. We get an annoying small fly that likes to walk on everything. We are also a country where fly screens are not common. So when you open up the house, these cocky, pesky visitors come in.

I am handy with the swat so they meet their match when they arrive at our house. The other day one was in the kitchen, making a nuisance. I grabbed the swat and took a swing that collected it in mid-air, taking it to a premature end. Just as I did so, another fly came into the kitchen and flew in from behind me. As I dealt to the one mentioned, the other was caught by the swipe and perished as well. Two down with one blow.

My weapon of choice (that's not me though)

There were no other flies in the kitchen, so taking out the only two in the room simultaneously was a testament to the quality of the wrist action (but also fortuitous I must admit). However, the line is well and truly drawn in the sand. Flies, enter our house at your peril. If only they could transmit this information to other flies, then a fly free house would be ours. They can't however, so the carnage must continue. My undoubted fly-swat skills continue to be honed on the battlefield of our kitchen.

A Close Shave At Muriwai Beach

Muriwai Beach. Beautiful, wild and potentially dangerous

If you ever go to Auckland and end up at one of it's west coast beaches, be aware of the danger they pose. Always swim between the flags and be careful walking around rocks to the sides of the sandy beaches. People have been swept off the rocks by a rogue wave, and even walking along the water's edge can turn into a disaster! Once in the water, a rip can quickly take you way out to sea.

When I was about six years of age and my brother about nine, our family went for our first trip to a beach called Muriwai. We were new to the country of New Zealand and not aware of any dangers. When my parents saw people congregated in one area and the rest of this large beach empty, they found a spot away from others. No one came to say anything. My brother and I ran into the water while my parents watched, sitting on the beach.

We were only a few metres or so from the shore in shallow water when a big wave hit us and sent us to the bottom. You could see nothing in the swirling water, Then this almighty drag instantly started pulling me seaward. I remember using my feet and hands to get out of the water, all the while submerged. Then the sand under me started falling away and it felt like a hole was forming under me. As I desperately clawed at the sand, it was as if a giant vacuum cleaner was sucking it away.

Just as I was about to be dragged out to sea, a second wave came and lifted me up. It took me to the shore and dumped me on the sand, then withdrew. I looked to my right where my brother had been before the big wave and he was also laying just as I was. He had a horrified and disbelieving look on his face about what had just happened in the previous few seconds.

We both jumped to our feet before another big wave came and ran to our parents, who were oblivious to what happened. We stood next to them silently so they asked why we were out so quickly. We both said we didn't want to swim anymore. They asked why and we told them of our brief ordeal. They were shocked. We spent the rest of the time just played on the sand, away form the water.

Later on my parents found out they should have stayed with the other people on the beach, where it was safer to swim. The lesson is be very careful if you decide to go swimming in an areas you don't know well. Ask locals for advice. The sea can be very dangerous and unforgiving. That close shave could have become a multiple drowning.

Pic source: rtw-travel-guide.com/

The Cab Ride

OK, it's supposed to be light funny or an opinion, but I thought I'd bend the rules this time.


I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes, I walked to the door and knocked.

'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'. We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

Raoul Wallenberg

Raoul Wallenberg of Sweden became a diplomat in 1944. In that capacity, he assisted up to one hundred thousand Jews avoid deportation from Nazi-occupied Hungary during the latter stages of World War II. Through earlier trips to Nazi Germany and occupied France, Raoul Wallenberg came to understand German bureaucracy and thinking. This he used to his advantage. No doubt he also used initiative and showed bravery in saving many lives. He issued non-legal protective passports to Jews and sheltered many in buildings called Swedish territories.

It seems that Mr Wallenberg also worked with the OSS, the wartime espionage service of the US. In that capacity, he may have been working with the Hungarian Independence Movement. His political involvement with the OSS may have led to his problems with the Soviet Union. Therefore, his humanitarianism was not enough to spare him from the events that overtook him in the beginning of 1945.

Due to the connection with the OSS, when the Soviets moved into Hungary someone tipped them off about that. This led to his arrest and thereafter, speculation reigns. The Soviets claimed he had died in 1947, but independent reports suggest he may have lived on for decades as a prisoner.

The Soviet authorities may have been too cynical to accept his good deeds, seeing him primarily as a US spy. The Swedish authorities after the war did nothing to expedite his release. Both those factors worked against Raoul Wallenberg. It seems so unjust that someone who helped so many paid such a price. Our Creator saw all that happened and will act to address any injustices that this world manages to engineer. Something to look forward to indeed.

Some Of Life's Mysteries Solved

A massive, 12-year research project by Indian academics has answered some of life's lingering imponderables. Staff in the Socio-Linguistic Department of Trivandrum University, Kerala, India, began their research in 1992, linking up with hundreds of further education institutions across the world. A total of 1,200,000 people, of all ages and backgrounds, took part in the study, providing statistically average answers to the English- speaking world's "rhetorical questions". The main findings are:

How long is a piece of string? Nine inches
The height of stupidity? Six feet, two inches
The depth of despair? Six feet two inches?
How low can you sink? 302 fathoms (1,812 feet)
How deep is your love? Four feet, seven inches
How far will you go? 327 yards, two feet, 11 inches
What time do you call this? Just after six

While the academics acknowledge that the answers will have degrees of variance among individuals, the averages across the research sample are sound. If you take the "How deep is your love?" question, explained Professor Vikram Gupta, the variations were enormous -- from inches to hundreds of miles. But, the average of four feet, seven inches seems a very fair compromise. The most surprising finding was the 'piece of string' result. Astonishingly nearly 800,000 people in the survey said nine inches. For some reason, that is the length the vast majority have in mind when they hear this particular rhetorical question. The correct response of nine inches is now a scientific and mathematical fact.

What Goes Around Comes Around

One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out of his old car.
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. Was he going to hurt her? He looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold.

He said, 'I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.'

Well, all she had was a flat tyre, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she told him that she was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. 

She asked how much she owed him. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, 'And think of me..'

It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home.


A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe and she went in to grab a bite to eat. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. Then she remembered Bryan .

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change, but the old lady had slipped out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress noticed something written on the napkin. It was: 'You don't owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.' Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

That night when the waitress got home from work and climbed into bed. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, 'Everything's going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.'

The Bucket With A Hole

A water bearer in India had two large buckets, one had a hole in it, while the other was perfect. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the bucket with a hole arrived only half full but the perfect one always delivered a full portion of water.

Of course, the perfect bucket was proud of its accomplishments, but the holed bucket was miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. So the bucket with a hole spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. I have been able to deliver only half my load because I leak water all the way back to your house".

The water bearer replied "I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path. Every day as we walk back, you've watered them and I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house".

So everyone has something to offer.

The Booby Prize

In the Netherlands, a retired engineer booby-trapped his home with the intention of killing his estranged family, but died himself after inadvertently triggering one of his own devices. At first, police assumed that the 79-year-old had committed suicide, as he was found alone with a bullet wound in his neck. Then a detective missed a bullet by inches when he opened a booby trapped wooden chest. Police beat a hasty retreat from the property and called in military experts. They deciphered an enigmatic series of scribbled clues to locate 19 death traps in walls, ceilings, and household objects.

Police speculate that the notes were intended to assist his failing memory. Other traps included numerous concealed shotguns triggered by threads, and an exploding crate of beer set to detonate once a certain number of bottles were removed. It took three weeks to crack 19 of the 20 clues, and experts were forced to admit defeat on the final note: "The 12 Apostles are ready to work on the pebbles."

He was described by neighbours as a reserved but harmless man who enjoyed puttering in his garage. But relatives say he never forgave his wife for divorcing him twenty years before.