About Age
Time is very relative, and so is age. When there would be no mirror or no shining lake surface - the mirror of bygone times - and we would not be able to see our "aging" face, which means sagging skin folds and eye lids or brown spots and wrinkles, we would be not so occupied with looking old - or older.
When kids see a 40 year old, they think it is "over-the-hill". The 40 year old thinks the kid is still green behind the ears. It all depends whether you look from the outside in or from the inside out. Even when I was younger, I always admired the looks of older people, their grey hair and their facial expressions, grown from experience. Now I am there, I am currently 77, which means that I can feel the exact locations of some bones in the morning before rising, but my inner feelings about my being, about loving life in general, has never changed. Recently I had to admit that I am not able anymore to drive a bicycle, I got dizzy and I was insecure when mounting, so I laughed it off and closed that chapter.
Age is not reflected anymore in the kind of clothes we older people are wearing. All colors, all styles are accepted, but most of the time you have to have a sweater handy. We shiver more easily. And steps are taken very carefully. I worked in a Nursing Home in Pennsylvania, and I know what a broken hip can do to you when you are in the Seventies. Instead of hopping down the stairs anywhere, I put my brain to it and watch my steps.
Overall, I think, elderly people are more free in the sense of doing things, they have enough experience to sense what is allowed. In younger years flirting is concidered almost a sin, in later years flirting is satisfying and mood elevating and tolerated by the partner. I find my husband very attractive when he flirts with a lady. It is done by facial expressions, by being very attentive and focusing.
Anyway, I am still young compared to some of my camper friends or to the people who are stating that they are so old that they can laugh, cough, sneeze and pee - all at the same time!!
And I honestly can say that the so called "Golden Years" haven't catched up with me yet, when I take a look at the following statement:
The Golden Years have come at last
I cannot see, I cannot pee, I cannot chew, I cannot do. My memory shrinks, my hearing stinks, no sense of smell, I look like hell, my body is drooping, got trouble pooping. The Golden Years have come at last!
Age doesn't matter, unless you are a Cheese. - John Paul Getty, U.S. oil magnate
Youth is not a time of life. It is a state of mind.
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Fortunately, today's seniors are more fit and youthful than ever before. The following hopefully makes you laugh rather than cringe.
You know you're getting old when.....
you bend down to pick something off the floor, and before you straighten up you ask yourself: "Is there anything else I can do while I'm down there?"
you need a fire permit to light all of your birthday candles and you need oxygen after blowing them out.
you order GERITOL on the rocks.
you sink your teeth into a thick steak and they stay there.
your pacemaker opens the garage door whenever a cute girl goes by.
the only whistles you get are from a tea kettle.
Read on:
Everything hurts. And what doesn't hurt, doesn't work.
You feel like the morning after, and you haven,'t been anywhere.
Your little black book contains only names ending with M.D.
You join a health club but you never go.
You need your glasses to find your glasses.
You sit in a rocking chair and can't get it going.
Your knees buckle but your belt won't.
You wonder why not more people don't use this size print....
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About Growing Older..........
First ~ Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.
Second ~ The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.
Third ~ Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me; I want people to know 'why' I look this way. I've traveled a long way, and some of the roads weren't paved.
Fourth ~ When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of Algebra.
Fifth ~ You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.
Sixth ~ I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top
Seventh ~ One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it is such a nice change from being young.
Eighth ~ One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been.
Ninth ~ Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.
Tenth ~ Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today it's called golf.
And, finally ~ If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you are old.
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Friends
As campers we meet nice people from all walks of life. We might talk for hours, sit together in the evening and have a drink, or we invite each other for dinner. We promise each other to keep in touch, exchange so-called business cards with adresses and personal info. Then we wish each other being safe on the road and wave goodbye when the trailer or motorhome leaves the camping resort. Some time it hurts. Most of the time a short-lived friendship dies slowly, but there are others! I will give you some examples.
We were in a camping resort in Homosassa Springs, Florida, to enjoy a warm climate in the winter. A lovely young lady was sitting at the pond and painting. I admired her work - and she said: "Oh, you come from Germany? I can tell because I have lived in Germany for 12 years, but I come from Vietnam. You can meet my hubby in a minute. His parents are from Japan". She had also a cat on a leash with her, as we had. This was instant real friendship. They live in Los Angeles. We met each other several times more while on the road.They gave up their motorhome after cruising the USA for several years because of privat reasons - going to school again was one of those. Every time we hit the southern California area, we visit them. True friends for life.
We were in Blessing, Texas, in winter, for several month. This little southern city near the coast was boring. We booked that resort because of the very affordable price. The interesting part of that vacation there were the manager Janet and her husband Tom. A very friendly couple. We felt like family from the beginning. We are always looking forward to meet them again. She always ends a telephone conversation in between us with the words: "Don't forget - you have friends in Texas who love you!"
We have several other camperfriends we love dearly. They are so caring, never forget a birthday or a holiday. And when Dieter was very sick, they called almost every day to make sure I didn't need any help. If I would have, they would have come.
Friends can be for life! Since I participate in internet forums, I gained some friends which gave me their personal info in case we are traveling near their home turf. Most of them I never met personally, but I am convinced - and my feelings seldom betray me - that they mean what they say and would welcome us with open arms or help us if needed.
Posted years earlier:
Last but not least - another special friendship in Arizona. We leave this location soon, and that evokes mixed feelings. One side of the coin is: we are glad that we can travel again and see other areas. The other side: When we say goodbye to our dear neighbors in Tierra del Sol, we surely will shed some tears when we hug each other.- When we bought a camping lot in 2004, that couple next to us welcomed us in a way which made us feel very comfortable. They are very friendly and always ready to help. They are the same age group as we are - this is a community with residents over 55 years of age. Their home state is Wisconsin. In summer 2006 we traveled from Arizona to Wisconsin with our motorhome, camped out right next to their log house in the middle of the Northwoods for 3 months with full hook-ups. Dieter was still a little week after 2 rounds of chemotherapy for a bad blood disorder, but he gained strength back quickly because he helped his friends on that big property with all kinds of chores, even with constructing. He went fishing with them while I enjoyed for the first time the Internet, because I had access to his WiFi Network. From there we drove to Pennsylvania to visit Dieter's sisters-in-law. Straight back to Arizona again - overall about 6000 miles. Our friends are snowbirds, which means that they come to AZ in the wintertime and drive home in spring. We helped each other in health issues, had uncounted dinners together, sat outside together - in the evenings around the fireplace - we were together like one family. We sold our lot here to our friends when Dieter was very sick. That was 2005. We panicked and had the urge to be near the east coast. We made it to Florida. He almost lost his life there, being in the ICU of the hospital in St.Augustine for 3 weeks straight, but some very good specialists made sure that he lived. We went back to Arizona again because we were fed up with hurricanes. When I announced to our neighbors that we will be back in the Casa Grande area again, they made sure that we came back to Tierra del Sol. Since then we rented the property we once owned. That makes us free, of course, and we can enjoy fulltiming again. We will visit when we are in this area again. The residents here in this community are like family to each other and we felt very loved by all of them!! Bye, bye, friends!!!
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Hugs - - - left picture taken 1975
right picture taken 1982
What's So Great About Hugs?
There's no such thing as a bad hug - - only good ones and great ones. They're not fattening and they don't cause cancer or cavities. Tey're all natural - with no preservatives, artificial ingredients or pesticide residue. They're cholesterol-free, naturally sweet, 100 percent wholesome. And they're a completely renewable resource.
They don't require batteries, tune-up's or X-rays. They're non-taxable, fully returnable and energy efficient.
They're safe in all kinds of weather; in fact, they're especially good for cold or rainy days. And they are exceptionally effective in treating problems like bad dreams or the Monday blahs.
Never wait until tomorrow to hug someone you could hug today! ♥ ♥ (Author unknown)
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Did you know that hugs:
Can instantly boost oxytocin levels, which heal feelings of loneliness, isolation, and anger.
Lift one's serotonin levels, elevating mood and creating happiness.
Strengthen the immune system. The gentle pressure on the sternum stimulates the thymus gland, which regulates and balances the body's production of white blood cells, which keep you healthy and disease free.
Relaxes muscles. Hugs release tension in the body. Hugs can take away pain; they soothe aches by increasing circulation into the soft tissues.
Balance out the nervous system. The galvanic skin response of someone receiving and giving a hug shows a change in skin conductance. The effect in moisture and electricity in the skin suggests a more balanced state in the nervous system - parasympathetic.
Can instantly boost oxytocin levels, which heal feelings of loneliness, isolation, and anger.
Lift one's serotonin levels, elevating mood and creating happiness.
Strengthen the immune system. The gentle pressure on the sternum stimulates the thymus gland, which regulates and balances the body's production of white blood cells, which keep you healthy and disease free.
Relaxes muscles. Hugs release tension in the body. Hugs can take away pain; they soothe aches by increasing circulation into the soft tissues.
Balance out the nervous system. The galvanic skin response of someone receiving and giving a hug shows a change in skin conductance. The effect in moisture and electricity in the skin suggests a more balanced state in the nervous system - parasympathetic.
About Love
What is Love? My mother always said jokingly: "Love is a funny feeling in the area of the belly."
But obviously there is more to it... There are two symbols of love widely used over the world: The red rose and the red heart.
Religions in the world elevate Love to be the essence of being. The feeling of being loved or to love someone is so strong that it can be borderline hate. Love is the mightiest of all emotions...Hate cannot forgive, but love can. Love goes beyond the grave. I read so many times that pets, like a dog, love you unconditionally, they would not leave you even if you are starving and have no food for your pet. I watched a story on television once, that a dog did not leave the grave of his master and did not accept food from anybody - he just sat there with sad eyes until he died. We humans have the ability to reason, and it is expected from us that we use it if necessary and act differently. Most of us do because we simply have or find reasons to go on with life. Love is an endless generated feeling, but we have to be the generator, we have to love ourselves too in order to give love. If we neglect our feelings and senses or dope them with drugs or alcohol, how can we give love? When someone is left by a lover, self-pity sets in. Why me? Did I deserve this? Think again, maybe it is your fault that your partner left you. Did you expect and expect again and forgot to give your share? Keeping love alive in a marriage is a constant giving and receiving, hard work sometimes. Complaining doesn't help, thinking of love and why you married your honey in the first place helps.
Karin.
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September 2016 a facebook friend I know personally posted the following Analysis of LOVE in a fb thread :
Joseph Foster Now a little opinion from my heart. Love is an abiding fondness formed by observation, interaction, admiration and respect. It can be reinforced and strengthened by mutual experiences and shared interests and activities or can be weakened by disrespect or abuse. There are many types and degrees of love. Ancient Greek has four distinct words for love: agápe, éros, philía, and storgē. Each expresses a different type of love. Tina Turner's song says love is just a second hand emotion. So in summarry I would say that love is a speculative emotion, felt and expressed in varying ways and is clearly understood, but not explainable, by each individual on a personal level.
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Love falls to earth, rises from the ground, pools around the afflicted.
Love pulls people back to their feet. Bodies and souls are fed.
Bones and lives heal. New blades of grass grow from charred soil.
The sun rises.
Anne Lamott
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Yesterday, Sept. 20., 2008, I read a post of an internet friend in a live question and answer forum, in which I participate, which gave me the push to write down what I feel - and repost it here again. A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 - 8 year olds:
What does Love mean? "When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That is love." Rebecca, age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth" Billy, age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl, age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French Fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy, age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you are tired."
Terry, age 4
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"Love is the greatest of all things." - 1 Cor 13:13
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No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
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I found a website which containes wonderful short storiew about Love.
I give you the web address and I hope that the webmaster agrees to my publishing here. Enjoy!
http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/11/20/60-tiny-love-stories-to-make-you-smile/
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I give you the web address and I hope that the webmaster agrees to my publishing here. Enjoy!
http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/11/20/60-tiny-love-stories-to-make-you-smile/
==================================================================
Everlasting Love - a wonderful Story
As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline–1924. The letter had been written almost 60 years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a “Dear John” letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him anymore because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.
It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
“Operator,” I began, “this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?”
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, “Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can’t give you the number.” She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.
I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. “I have a party who will speak with you.”
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, “Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!”
“Would you know where that family could be located now?” I asked.
“I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,” the woman said. “Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.”
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, “Yes, Hannah is staying with us.”
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. “Well,” he said hesitatingly, “if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.”
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired oldtimer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, “Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.”
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, “I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.”
“Yes,” she continued. “Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And,” she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, “tell him I still love him. You know,” she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, “I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…”
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?”
I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I think I’ll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.”
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, “Hey, wait a minute! That’s Mr. Goldstein’s wallet. I’d know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He’s always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times.”
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked as my hand began to shake.
“He’s one of the oldtimers on the 8th floor. That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.” I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse’s office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, “I think he’s still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He’s a darling old man.”
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, “Oh, it is missing!”
“This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?”
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, “Yes, that’s it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. “You read that letter?”
“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”
He suddenly grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,” he begged.
“She’s fine…just as pretty as when you knew her.” I said softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, “Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something, Mister? I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”
“Mr. Goldstein,” I said, “Come with me.”
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.
“Hannah,” she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. “Do you know this man?”
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, “Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you remember me?”
She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it! Michael! It’s you! My Michael!” He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.
“See,” I said. “See how the Good Lord works! If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.
Author Unknown
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline–1924. The letter had been written almost 60 years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a “Dear John” letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him anymore because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.
It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
“Operator,” I began, “this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?”
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, “Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can’t give you the number.” She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.
I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. “I have a party who will speak with you.”
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, “Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!”
“Would you know where that family could be located now?” I asked.
“I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,” the woman said. “Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.”
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, “Yes, Hannah is staying with us.”
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. “Well,” he said hesitatingly, “if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.”
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired oldtimer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, “Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.”
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, “I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.”
“Yes,” she continued. “Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And,” she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, “tell him I still love him. You know,” she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, “I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…”
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?”
I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I think I’ll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.”
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, “Hey, wait a minute! That’s Mr. Goldstein’s wallet. I’d know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He’s always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times.”
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked as my hand began to shake.
“He’s one of the oldtimers on the 8th floor. That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.” I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse’s office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, “I think he’s still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He’s a darling old man.”
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, “Oh, it is missing!”
“This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?”
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, “Yes, that’s it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. “You read that letter?”
“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”
He suddenly grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,” he begged.
“She’s fine…just as pretty as when you knew her.” I said softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, “Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something, Mister? I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”
“Mr. Goldstein,” I said, “Come with me.”
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.
“Hannah,” she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. “Do you know this man?”
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, “Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you remember me?”
She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it! Michael! It’s you! My Michael!” He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.
“See,” I said. “See how the Good Lord works! If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.
Author Unknown