there hasnt been mamy great mother daughter moments in my life, but today my mum told me that she is proud of me and that she supports me in my current situation

more than a few years ago, i was going through some very difficult times financially. i had items in storage and was about a week late in my payment. so i go to the office to talk to the manager to try to buy some time so my property would not be put on lien.

on that day, there was a line of people to pay their storage fees. when my turn came i tried to talk softly when talking to the manager about my situation. out of the blue this woman and her husband stepped forward and told the manager they would pay my fee. i tried to disuade them, however they placed the money ($109.00) on the counter and told the manager to please accept the payment. the lady looked at me and said, "someone helped us at a time when we were really in need, now we want to help you." she added, "we may never see each other again, but we can tell you are a hard working person and we feel you will return this gesture to someone else in the future."

after thanking them, i almost cried.

so now when i can, if i see someone in need, i give.

At this very moment, I am writing a country and western song destined to be a major hit.

We have four kids and we've been struggling financially for a while now.

My feel good story is this: I realized yesterday that, despite our challenges, we have raised kind, intelligent, courteous and responsible children. They never demand material things, they always help out around the house, and whenever they have some money they volunteer to contribute to the household (we say no unless absolutely necessary, and even then I will let them buy milk or something small, and then give it back to them).

They care about us and each other, and are always considering the needs of others. They notice when I'm tired and insist that I rest (I have a chronic, degenerative genetic illness). They run and fetch anything I need without ever complaining. They care about the world, about justice, about equality and fairness.

I can't describe the good feeling that fills me when I'm hit with the realization of what wonderful people our kids are. They're 12, 13, 15 and 17, and before we know it they'll be out in the world, enriching it and the people they meet. I am so proud and so humbled. I feel like I've done something good in this world.

free2bfreeda said:

more than a few years ago, i was going through some very difficult times financially. i had items in storage and was about a week late in my payment. so i go to the office to talk to the manager to try to buy some time so my property would not be put on lien.

on that day, there was a line of people to pay their storage fees. when my turn came i tried to talk softly when talking to the manager about my situation. out of the blue this woman and her husband stepped forward and told the manager they would pay my fee. i tried to disuade them, however they placed the money ($109.00) on the counter and told the manager to please accept the payment. the lady looked at me and said, "someone helped us at a time when we were really in need, now we want to help you." she added, "we may never see each other again, but we can tell you are a hard working person and we feel you will return this gesture to someone else in the future."

after thanking them, i almost cried.

so now when i can, if i see someone in need, i give.

Wow.

That's a wonderful story!

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

.

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan ashidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to hell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I was had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than a lot's distance from the nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My other would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fulling understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me loose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

These stories of yours make my life worth living.

PunkMistress said:

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan ashidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to hell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I was had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than a lot's distance from the nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My other would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fulling understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me loose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

These stories of yours make my life worth living.

My memoirs are going to be so fucked up.

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

.

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

I was so taken in, i almost drowned whilst surfing years ago so i felt that story. I was like what happened to the boy?.....lovely sentiment imago

PunkMistress said:

We have four kids and we've been struggling financially for a while now.

My feel good story is this: I realized yesterday that, despite our challenges, we have raised kind, intelligent, courteous and responsible children. They never demand material things, they always help out around the house, and whenever they have some money they volunteer to contribute to the household (we say no unless absolutely necessary, and even then I will let them buy milk or something small, and then give it back to them).

They care about us and each other, and are always considering the needs of others. They notice when I'm tired and insist that I rest (I have a chronic, degenerative genetic illness). They run and fetch anything I need without ever complaining. They care about the world, about justice, about equality and fairness.

I can't describe the good feeling that fills me when I'm hit with the realization of what wonderful people our kids are. They're 12, 13, 15 and 17, and before we know it they'll be out in the world, enriching it and the people they meet. I am so proud and so humbled. I feel like I've done something good in this world.

so is your story

[Edited 6/16/12 12:32pm]

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

.

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

GREAT STORY.

Everyone here has said some powerful things, but this one is a real narrative. Of course you knw what I think needs to happen to this story..... short film. Shot in Thailand.

ufoclub said:

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

.

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

GREAT STORY.

Everyone here has said some powerful things, but this one is a real narrative. Of course you knw what I think needs to happen to this story..... short film. Shot in Thailand.

omg i want in on the production!

free2bfreeda said:

more than a few years ago, i was going through some very difficult times financially. i had items in storage and was about a week late in my payment. so i go to the office to talk to the manager to try to buy some time so my property would not be put on lien.

on that day, there was a line of people to pay their storage fees. when my turn came i tried to talk softly when talking to the manager about my situation. out of the blue this woman and her husband stepped forward and told the manager they would pay my fee. i tried to disuade them, however they placed the money ($109.00) on the counter and told the manager to please accept the payment. the lady looked at me and said, "someone helped us at a time when we were really in need, now we want to help you." she added, "we may never see each other again, but we can tell you are a hard working person and we feel you will return this gesture to someone else in the future."

after thanking them, i almost cried.

so now when i can, if i see someone in need, i give.

that's a great story!!! once at coles this old lady was $2 short and was trying to work out what not to get so I gave the cashier the money ~ i felt so sorry for her and yes i was in a hurry!!!!

[Edited 6/16/12 23:42pm]

PunkMistress said:

We have four kids and we've been struggling financially for a while now.

My feel good story is this: I realized yesterday that, despite our challenges, we have raised kind, intelligent, courteous and responsible children. They never demand material things, they always help out around the house, and whenever they have some money they volunteer to contribute to the household (we say no unless absolutely necessary, and even then I will let them buy milk or something small, and then give it back to them).

They care about us and each other, and are always considering the needs of others. They notice when I'm tired and insist that I rest (I have a chronic, degenerative genetic illness). They run and fetch anything I need without ever complaining. They care about the world, about justice, about equality and fairness.

I can't describe the good feeling that fills me when I'm hit with the realization of what wonderful people our kids are. They're 12, 13, 15 and 17, and before we know it they'll be out in the world, enriching it and the people they meet. I am so proud and so humbled. I feel like I've done something good in this world.

beautiful!!! Kids are amazing aren't they!!!

and i really hope things improve for you and your family

RodeoSchro said:

At this very moment, I am writing a country and western song destined to be a major hit.

just as long as no frogs were hurt or injured in the making of that song I really can't wait 2 hear it!!!!

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

.

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

i believed u!!!

but................

its really nice that u took time and i can only imagine how busy u must b pulling your finger out and all... to make time and write such a beautiful inspiring story!!!

funkmunki said:

I was so taken in, i almost drowned whilst surfing years ago so i felt that story. I was like what happened to the boy?.....lovely sentiment imago

i'm so glad u kept on board!!!

this thread is making me mushy and shit!!!!

ufoclub said:

imago said:

(long ass story was here)

[Edited 6/16/12 11:11am]

GREAT STORY.

Everyone here has said some powerful things, but this one is a real narrative. Of course you knw what I think needs to happen to this story..... short film. Shot in Thailand.

imago said:

ufoclub said:

GREAT STORY.

Everyone here has said some powerful things, but this one is a real narrative. Of course you knw what I think needs to happen to this story..... short film. Shot in Thailand.

short film based on short story not based on biography...

ufoclub said:

imago said:

short film based on short story not based on biography...

Do U really like my story? I'm totally fishing for compliments and curious.

i liked it. it's an adult topic told from a *kid's* perspective, and justice prevails

XxAxX said:

i liked it. it's an adult topic told from a *kid's* perspective, and justice prevails

imago said:

ufoclub said:

short film based on short story not based on biography...

Do U really like my story? I'm totally fishing for compliments and curious.

Yes, I like it. I"m serious, that would be fun to change up into a script. I think we're twisting this thread...

Download celtx and write it!

ufoclub said:

imago said:

Do U really like my story? I'm totally fishing for compliments and curious.

Yes, I like it. I"m serious, that would be fun to change up into a script. I think we're twisting this thread...

Download celtx and write it!

Never heard of it, but I'll definately check it out.

I don't have anything to compete with those stories. The brightest thing to happen to me lately was finding out that I only had a blister on my finger (burned it on a hot pot while cooking) rather than a wart.

For a long time, I was miserable. Oh, sure - I had times where I was deliriously happy. But they never lasted. My mood was tied to my "success" in wooing and/or keeping whichever woman I was interested in at the time. I saw this as the only path to happiness.

Boy, was I fucking wrong!

Long story, short: I began exploring Zen Buddhist philosophy and found an excellent shrink. I started employing the things I'd learned from these places, in my life and - bingo! - I found that I was in total control of my happiness, at all times.

Since then, I have the occasional moment where I get a little down (usually due to not getting proper rest), but these are fleeting.

I now feel good 95% of the time, so I am offering this as a "feel-good" story.

THE END.

I went out to see a movie yesterday afternoon only to find the connecting bus stop had been discontinued and there was no bus in sight anywhere. So I just went for a walk and found a pizza joint. Had the best pizza of my life! Then the clerk said, "Hey there's a huge rainbow outside!" So I joined her outside and witnessed an awesome, brilliant rainbow arching from horizon to horizon. Absolutley beautiful.

Ace said:

For a long time, I was miserable. Oh, sure - I had times where I was deliriously happy. But they never lasted. My mood was tied to my "success" in wooing and/or keeping whichever woman I was interested in at the time. I saw this as the only path to happiness.

Boy, was I fucking wrong!

Long story, short: I began exploring Zen Buddhist philosophy and found an excellent shrink. I started employing the things I'd learned from these places, in my life and - bingo! - I found that I was in total control of my happiness, at all times.

Since then, I have the occasional moment where I get a little down (usually due to not getting proper rest), but these are fleeting.

I now feel good 95% of the time, so I am offering this as a "feel-good" story.

THE END.

YAY!

vainandy said:

I don't have anything to compete with those stories. The brightest thing to happen to me lately was finding out that I only had a blister on my finger (burned it on a hot pot while cooking) rather than a wart.

PunkMistress said:

We have four kids and we've been struggling financially for a while now.

My feel good story is this: I realized yesterday that, despite our challenges, we have raised kind, intelligent, courteous and responsible children. They never demand material things, they always help out around the house, and whenever they have some money they volunteer to contribute to the household (we say no unless absolutely necessary, and even then I will let them buy milk or something small, and then give it back to them).

They care about us and each other, and are always considering the needs of others. They notice when I'm tired and insist that I rest (I have a chronic, degenerative genetic illness). They run and fetch anything I need without ever complaining. They care about the world, about justice, about equality and fairness.

I can't describe the good feeling that fills me when I'm hit with the realization of what wonderful people our kids are. They're 12, 13, 15 and 17, and before we know it they'll be out in the world, enriching it and the people they meet. I am so proud and so humbled. I feel like I've done something good in this world.