--------------76A8436F50E9
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
With so much crap coming across email, these days, I felt compelled to
pass this one on, "Very Touching" to all my friends. Peace & love to
all, Happy
--------------76A8436F50E9
Content-Type: message/rfc822
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Disposition: inline
Return-Path: <happyshel@www4.web2010.com>
Received: from www4.web2010.com (happyshel@[207.124.103.1])
by SWBELL.net (8.8.5/8.8.5) with ESMTP id UAA14649
for <hapyshel@swbell.net>; Tue, 7 Oct 1997 20:14:28 -0500 (CDT)
Received: (from happyshel@localhost) by www4.web2010.com (8.8.6/8.6.9) id VAA07335 for hapyshel@swbell.net; Tue, 7 Oct 1997 21:13:02 -0400 (EDT)
Received: from m4.interserv.com (m4.interserv.com [165.121.1.86]) by www4.web2010.com (8.8.6/8.6.9) with ESMTP id VAA07325 for <happy@drums.org>; Tue, 7 Oct 1997 21:12:59 -0400 (EDT)
Received: from default (dd13-030.dub.compuserve.com [199.174.155.30])
by m4.interserv.com (8.8.5/8.8.5) with ESMTP id RAA22177;
Tue, 7 Oct 1997 17:42:41 -0700 (PDT)
Message-Id: <199710080042.RAA22177@m4.interserv.com>
From: "Mike Marcus" <bigmikey@interserv.com>
To: "Rex Tetrick" <texrex@flash.net>, "eric stuer" <stucreative@rythymweb.com>,
"Matt Marcus" <mattm@websurfer.net>,
"Sheldon gordon" <sgordon3@juno.com>, "Jan Overbo" <jano@bluehawk.com>,
"Paul Rousell" <ink@shreve.net>, "shel weisman" <happy@drums.org>,
"Dan Marcus" <dannybobbi@aol.com>
Subject: Fw: Very touching
Date: Tue, 7 Oct 1997 19:58:40 -0700
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-Priority: 3
X-Mailer: Microsoft Internet Mail 4.70.1161
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-UIDL: 25a293b3c602e4763007ee6c9db30486
X-Mozilla-Status: 8001
There is so much crap that comes across email but I felt this is really
uplifting and worth sharing with friends. mm
All the Good Things:
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's
School
in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark
Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that
happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness
delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again
that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so
much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for
misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to
make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many
times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once
too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and
said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is
talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark,
but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act
on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I
walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll
of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore
off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then
returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was
doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class
cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my
shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math.
The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He
was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen
carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in
ninth grade as he had in the third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard
on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning,
frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this
crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of
the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space
between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they
could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment,
and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers.
Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a
good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate
sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that
individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long,
the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew
that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew
if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't
matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were
happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I
returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were
driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the
weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the
conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?"
My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important.
"The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't
heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."
Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said.
"The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could
attend." To this day II can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where
Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark
looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was,
Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk
to me.
The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang
"The battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of
the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said
the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved
Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one
of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you
Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the
coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to
Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously
waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a
wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We
thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of
notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many
times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had
listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.
"Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see,
Mark treasured it."
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled
rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer
of
my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our
wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her
wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this
with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we
all saved our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and
for all his friends who would never see him again.
THE END
>>> written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia
>>>
>>> The purpose of this letter, is to encourage everyone to
>>compliment
>>>the
>>> people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the
>>importance of
>>> showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things,
>>could
>>>mean the most to another. I am asking you, to please send this
>>letter
>>>around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love
>>and
>>>caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density
>>of
>>>people in society, is so thick, that we forget that life will end one
>>day.
>>> And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg of you,
>>to
>>>tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and
>>important.
>>> Tell them, before it is too late.
>>>
>>> I leave these messages with you and ask you to continue to
>>spread the
>>>message to everyone you know.
>>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
--------------76A8436F50E9--