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Author Topic: Laughter..the best medicine  (Read 124245 times)
outdeep
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« Reply #195 on: June 15, 2004, 06:39:07 pm »

Even as a baby boomer, I scored 20 though some things were by hearing about them later as opposed to personal encounter (we did have glass milk bottles when I was a child).  I don't mind the "older than dirt" rating as age is often a prerequisite for wisdom and experience.  Youth is wasted on the young.

BTW, I saw at Radio Shack one of those replica antique sound systems.  Though it plays CDs and has an AM/FM receiver, it also plays 78, 45, and 33 1/3 records.

-Dave
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lenore
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« Reply #196 on: June 15, 2004, 07:20:26 pm »

 :)JUNE 15; 10:24 AM:

I too remember glass milk bottle, where the bread man came to your door, I am too young to remember, but even the ice man came to the door for the ice box.


Here is something to chuckle about?

Amazing how much difference 30 years makes:
>
> 1972: Long hair
> 2002: Longing for hair
>
> 1972: The perfect high
> 2002: The perfect high yield mutual fund
>
> 1972: KEG
> 2002: EKG
>
> 1972: Acid rock
> 2002: Acid reflux
>
> 1972: Moving to California because it's cool
> 2002: Moving to California because it's warm
>
> 1972: Growing pot
> 2002: Growing pot belly
>
> 1972: Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
> 2002: Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
>
> 1972: Seeds and stems
> 2002: Roughage
>
> 1972: Killer weed
> 2002: Weed killer
>
> 1972: Hoping for a BMW
> 2002: Hoping for a BM
>
> 1972: The Grateful Dead
> 2002: Dr. Kevorkian
>
> 1972: Going to a new, hip joint
> 2002: Receiving a new hip joint
>
> 1972: Rolling Stones
> 2002: Kidney Stones
>
> 1972: Being called into the principal's office
> 2002: Calling the principal's office
>
> 1972: Screw the system
> 2002: Upgrade the system
>
> 1972: Disco
> 2002: Costco
>
> 1972: Parents begging you to get your hair cut
> 2002: Children begging you to get their heads shaved
>
> 1972: Passing the driver's test
> 2002: Passing the vision test
>
> 1972: Whatever
> 2002: Depends
>
> Just in case you weren't feeling too old today, this will certainly
> change things :
>
>
> The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were
> born in 1983.
>
> They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
>
> Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
>
> Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
>
> The CD was introduced the year they were born.
>
> They have always had an answering machine.
>
> They have always had cable.
>
> They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
>
> Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show.
>
> Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
>
> They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
>
> They can't imagine what hard contact lenses are!
>
> They don't know who Mork was or where he was from.
>
> They never heard: "Where's the Beef?", "I'd walk a mile for a
> Camel", or "de plane Boss, de plane".
>
> They do not care who shot J. R. and have no idea who J. R. even is.
>
> McDonald's never came in Styrofoam containers.
>
> They don't have a clue how to use a typewriter.
>
> Do you feel old yet? Pass this on to the other old fogies in your
> life, and don't forget the younguns so they can see what the
> stone age was like.    ;-)


====================================
30 years ago I graduated high school this month.
I remember things that no longer exsisted.
like the ferry that use to cross at the wharf in Sand Point , about 55 miles from Ottawa,
I remember all the train stations, in SandPoint, Braeside, & Arnprior.

You know what made me feel old:
During my computer course: There was a young fellow, wearing Sun Glasses and swaying with the music coming from his head set.
I said you looked just like Stevie Wonder doing that.

AND HE SAID WHO IS STEVIE WONDER?Huh??

Now that made me feel like the generation gap just got bigger.


talk to you later
Lenore



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Recovering Saint
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« Reply #197 on: June 16, 2004, 03:38:45 am »

I am off the chart for remembering old things. I even played a 78 RPM record once. Wow now that dates me.

Anyone know what the material 78s were made of? Electricians should get this because it is a substance found in electrical conductors on a hydro line and is used as an insulator.

Selah

Pause and think of that.

Hugh Grin
« Last Edit: June 16, 2004, 03:43:02 am by Hugh » Logged
al Hartman
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« Reply #198 on: June 16, 2004, 09:27:16 am »



Hugh,

     When I was a kid, 78s were the only records (unless you count the much older cylindrical types).  I don't remember what they were made of.

     My Mom always said I talk so much because I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle Roll Eyes.  My kids never understood what she meant... Huh

al


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Recovering Saint
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« Reply #199 on: June 16, 2004, 04:31:01 pm »

Al

You remember cylinders. I saw one in a museum but never played one.

The 78s were made of a hard brittle material called "bakelite". I hope the spelling is right.

I also had a calculator with a steel stylus you slide down and over to add multiply or divide with. It requires no batteries. And of course many of you have seen and used a slide rule.

But no matter what advances happen we always will need to use Duct Tape.

Hugh Grin
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sfortescue
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« Reply #200 on: June 16, 2004, 09:22:25 pm »

Al

You remember cylinders. I saw one in a museum but never played one.

The 78s were made of a hard brittle material called "bakelite". I hope the spelling is right.

I also had a calculator with a steel stylus you slide down and over to add multiply or divide with. It requires no batteries. And of course many of you have seen and used a slide rule.

But no matter what advances happen we always will need to use Duct Tape.

Hugh Grin

A relative of my father's wife is an expert at restoring and repairing the old cylinder phonograph machines.  He brought one to a party once and allowed me to try playing a few cylinders from his collection.

I used to add logarithms with a calculator like the one that you describe.

I used to have an old motorized Marchant mechanical calculator.  It was able to automatically divide.  Unfortunately, a kid at the Collins house jammed it, and it caught on fire. Cry
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Oscar
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« Reply #201 on: June 16, 2004, 09:57:12 pm »

Steve,

Sorry about that.  If you wish I will assign an appropriate consequence to the malefactor.  (Those kids are all in their 30's now.)

Enforcement of the consequence, however, is up to you.

 Grin

God bless,

Thomas Maddux
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lenore
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« Reply #202 on: June 17, 2004, 12:39:57 am »

 :)oKAY FELLAS:

Are we aging ourselves or what?

I remember my mother had a hi fi where you could play those 78 records , five or six can be put on at a time, and music. The hi fi is gone, but I bet my mother still has those records some place.  Gene Autry, Hank Snow, Mac Beattie,  Patsy Cline, some of the earlier country western singers of the late 40's and early 50's.

Although the 33  and 45's replaced them. I still have some 45's in my closet, and 33 albums, nothing to play them with. These youngesters dont even know what a record player is.
How about 8 track tape deck.

Al you must be old enough to remember the scandal of Elvis Presley, my first singing "idol".  I still have albums in my closet that are mostly Elvis Presley.

I like Chubby Checker, "twist". a good exercise dance.

You guys are talking equipment.  Have you guys ever operated a tread pedal, sewing machine.
I did. when I was a child. I made my own doll patchwork doll blankets on that old machine.
I dont know where that machine went too. I remember pedalling it , and the bobbins were not round like they are in today sewing machine, they were cynider like , including the case to put the bobbin in.
There were no fancy stitching on them either. It was straight stitch all the way.
Al your mom probably had one of those contraptions, to do her sewing with.
Hugh ,we should ask if they remember the first ski -doo.

My Mother tells me of the time that in Braeside, they plowed the sidewalks, not the street, in the winter the cars were put away, and the horse and sled came out. The side walks were for walking.  Sometimes I wish this was true again. The sidewalks are terrible in the winter time in this town.

Okay, since I got my hot water back on. Who remembered taking their baths, in the middle of kitchen floor in a galvinized tub, and parents having to melt snow to get water to bath in.
Using the little building out back for call of nature. No running water, no in door plumping, no central heat. I do.  Having meals made on wood stoves, my grandparents never knew what indoor plumping, didnt have a phone, cooked and heated with a wood stove year round, they had to carry their drinking water. They died 25 years ago. So even in the late 70's people were still living like this. There are still people in remote areas still are putting up with this pioneer ways of living.

It is great to have a look back at what was, what is , and what may come.
How far have we gotten?
In 25 years, this town of Arnprior, and village I grew up in of Braeside, the growth that has occurred.
The speed of it all, is so unsettling at times., or am I just saying, I am getting old.

Talk to you later.
Lenore








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lenore
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« Reply #203 on: June 18, 2004, 10:46:31 pm »

 :)June 18: 1:54 pm

Here is something that was emailed to me this morning.

I Believe this is appropriate topic for the discussion of late:


THE OLD PHONE

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


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


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


 I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
 A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.


 "Information."


 "I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.


 "Isn't your mother home?" came the question.


 "Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.


 "Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.


  "No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
  "Can you open the icebox?" she asked.


   I said I could.


   "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.


 After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked
 her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.


  Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called,
   Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and   then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so   beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a   heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"


  She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul  always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."


  Somehow I felt better.


  Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
  "Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I asked.


 All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I   was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden  box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new  phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.


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


 A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown
operator and said, "Information Please."


   Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
   "Information."


   I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please  tell me how to spell fix?"


    There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."


     I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"


     I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.
    I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."


     I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.


      "Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."


      Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered,
      "Information." I asked for Sally.


     "Are you a friend?" she said.


     "Yes, a very old friend," I answered.


      "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died  five weeks ago."
      Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Paul?" "Yes." I answered.


       "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.


      Let me read it to you."
      The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."


      I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.


      Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.


      Whose life have you touched today?


       Why not pass this on? I just did....


      Lifting you on eagle's wings. May you find the joy and peace you long for.


     Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour.


     I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy
it and get a blessing from it just as I did.




---------------------------

Just Remember BB people, we are not getting older, we are getting better!! I hope!!

Lenore

 
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al Hartman
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« Reply #204 on: June 22, 2004, 09:32:40 pm »




With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very special person that went almost unnoticed last week.

Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote "The Hokey Pokey" died peacefully at age 93.  The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin.

They put his left leg in.  And then the trouble started..............


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lenore
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« Reply #205 on: June 23, 2004, 02:42:23 am »

thanks I needed that.
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al Hartman
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« Reply #206 on: June 23, 2004, 03:09:22 am »




One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex was staring up at the large plaque that hung in the foyer of the church. It was covered with names, and small American flags were mounted on either side of it.

The seven year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, "Good morning, Alex."

"Good morning, Pastor," replied the young man, still focused on the plaque.

"Pastor, what is this?"

"Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service."

Soberly, they stood together, staring at the large plaque. Little Alex's voice was barely audible, trembling with fear, when he asked, "Which service, Pastor, the 9:45 or the 11:15?"


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lenore
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« Reply #207 on: June 23, 2004, 07:37:31 am »




One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex was staring up at the large plaque that hung in the foyer of the church. It was covered with names, and small American flags were mounted on either side of it.

The seven year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, "Good morning, Alex."

"Good morning, Pastor," replied the young man, still focused on the plaque.

"Pastor, what is this?"

"Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service."

Soberly, they stood together, staring at the large plaque. Little Alex's voice was barely audible, trembling with fear, when he asked, "Which service, Pastor, the 9:45 or the 11:15?"






Keep them coming Al:  I needed some spiritual, emotional, what ever you want to call it , lift up.

Thank you.

Lenore
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Joe Sperling
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« Reply #208 on: June 24, 2004, 01:01:34 am »

THE NATIONAL ENQUIRER             June 21, 2004  



               WOMAN GIVES BIRTH TO MORMON BABY

As an amazed doctor and nurses looked on, a most unusual baby was born last Friday. "I couldn't believe it at first" said a startled Minnie Eubanks, a nurse at Good Samaritan Hospital, where the birth took place. "We were all taken quite aback" she added nervously.

The baby's mother, Nan Stevens, a staunch Catholic, was perhaps the most amazed of all. "I just can't believe this has happened!!" she said anxiously, "I took all of my vitamins, and never smoke or drank during the whole pregnancy!!" The baby's father became comatose and was admitted to the Psych ward for further examination.

"We saw the baby's head first" said another assisting nurse, Matilda Wentworth. Then the baby came out, wearing black pants, a white shirt with black tie, and a name tag which read "Elder Stevens"." she added. "And when he came out his legs were moving in a bicycle motion, you would have sworn he was on one" added the other attending nurse, Mary Howard.

Doctors and scientists are investigating the birth, while others are blaming the new pre-natal drug Josmithicol for the possible irregularity. Whatever the cause, Elder Stevens is resting comfortably in the Pediatric Ward of the hospital. The nurses state that when they play anything from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir the baby stops crying and falls quickly asleep.Elder Stevens and his mother will be allowed to go home in two more days.
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sfortescue
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« Reply #209 on: June 24, 2004, 03:46:18 am »

It must have been a slow news day at the National Enquirer.
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