Jeff Foxworthy on Upstate New York .
If you consider it a sport to gather your food by drilling through 36 inches of ice and sitting there all day hoping that the food will swim by, you might live in Upstate New York.
If you're proud that your region makes the national news 96 nights a year because Saranac Lake is the coldest spot in the nation, and Syracuse gets more snow than any other major city in the US , you might live in Upstate NY.
If your local Dairy Queen is closed from October through May, you might live in Upstate New York .
If you get 131 inches of snow in a week and you comment that 'winter's finally here,' you might live near Oswego in Upstate New York.
If you instinctively walk like a penguin for six months out of the year, you might live, bundled up, in Upstate New York.
If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance, and they don't work there, you might live in Upstate NY.
If your dad's suntan stops at a line curving around the middle of his forehead, you might live in Upstate New York.
If you have worn shorts and a parka on the same day, you might live in Upstate New York.
If you have had a lengthy phone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you might live in Upstate New York.
YOU KNOW YOU ARE A TRUE UPSTATE NEW YORKE R WHEN:
"Vacation" means going south past Syracuse for the weekend.
You measure distance in hours.
You know several people who have hit a deer more than once.
You often switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day and back again.
You can drive 65 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching.
You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
You carry jumper cables in your car and your girlfriend/wife knows how to use them.
You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.
Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.
You know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction
You can identify a southern or eastern accent.
Down South to you means Corning .
Your neighbor throws a party to celebrate his new shed.
You go out for a fish fry every Friday.
Your 4th of July picnic was moved indoors due to frost.
You have more miles on your snow blower than your car.
You find 10 degrees "a little chilly." And 55 is shorts weather.
You actually understand these jokes, and you forward them to all your Upstate New York friends and to those who used to live here and left(chickens).
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Jeff Foxworthy on UPSTATE NY
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
THE REAL WINNER OF THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE!
Wouldn't it be fitting if this went completely around the world!...
John Gebhardt's wife, Mindy, said that this little girl's entire family was executed. The insurgents intended to execute the little girl also, and shot her in the head...but they failed to kill her. She was cared for in John's hospital and is healing up, but continues to cry and moan. The nurses said John is the only one who seems to calm her down, so John has spent the last four nights holding her while they both slept in that chair. The girl is coming along with her healing.
He is a real Star of the war, and the hero of peace.
This, my friends, is worth sharing. Go for it!! You'll never see things like this in the news. Please keep this going. Every person can make a difference in the life of someone even if it is one little girl.
Friday, January 15, 2010
2010 Census Information
2010 Census Information
Please pass on to every person. Be careful and secure.
| WARNING: 2010 Census Cautions from the Better Business Bureau Be Cautious About Giving Info to Census Workers by Susan Johnson
With the U.S. Census process beginning, the Better Business Bureau (BBB) advises people to be cooperative, but cautious, so as not to become a victim of fraud or identity theft. The first phase of the 2010 U.S. Census is under way as workers have begun verifying the addresses of households across the country. Eventually, more than 140,000 U.S. Census workers will count every person in the United States, and will gather information about every person living at each address including name, age, gender, race, and other relevant data.
The big question is - how do you tell the difference between a U.S. Census worker and a con artist? The BBB offers the following advice:
** If a U.S. Census worker knocks on your door, they will have a badge, a handheld device, a Census Bureau canvas bag, and a confidentiality notice. Ask to see their identification and their badge before answering their questions. However, you should never invite anyone you don't know into your home.
Do not give your Social Security number, credit card, or banking information to anyone, even if they claim they need it for the U.S. Census.
REMEMBER, NO MATTER WHAT THEY ASK, YOU REALLY ONLY NEED TO TELL THEM HOW MANY PEOPLE LIVE AT YOUR ADDRESS. While the Census Bureau might ask for basic financial information, such as a salary range, YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER ANYTHING AT ALL ABOUT YOUR FINANCIAL SITUATION. The Census Bureau will not ask for Social Security, bank account, or credit card numbers, nor will employees solicit donations. Any one asking for that information is NOT with the Census Bureau.
No Acorn worker should approach you saying he/she is with the Census Bureau.
Eventually, Census workers may contact you by telephone, mail, or in person at home. However, the Census Bureau will not contact you by Email, so be on the lookout for Email scams impersonating the Census.
Never click on a link or open any attachments in an Email that are supposedly from the U.S. Census Bureau.
PLEASE SHARE THIS INFO WITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS
|
Marge Terracio
School of Medicine
University of South Carolina
Columbia, SC 29208
803-733-3345
803-733-1509 fax
See this amazing Video Clip
This video shows the winner of "Ukraine’s Got Talent", Kseniya Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II. Her talent, which admittedly is a strange one, is mesmeric to watch.
The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $130,000.00
She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.
It is replaced by a woman’s face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman’s face appears.
She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.
This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.
In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying goodbye.
The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine, resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.
Kseniya Simonova says:
"I find it difficult enough to create art using paper and pencils or paintbrushes, but using sand and fingers isn't beyond me. The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there’s surely no bigger compliment."
Please take time out to see this amazing piece of art.
| click on the link below - http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=vOhf3OvRXKg |
Thursday, January 7, 2010
celebrate volunteerism!
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Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
In Memory of Alice Marshall
I also added a photograph to the photo gallery.......
Roy Frost
http://www.bennettfh.com/sitemaker/sites/Bennet1/obit.cgi?user=158767Marshall
YouTube - ripley's aquarium myrtle beach
Try this one for some reason the code did not copy correctly.......
Roy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gy8v6hX5qeY&feature=youtube_gdata
Monday, January 4, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
The Old Man and the Dog
**"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?"***
**Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly
manin the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my
throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.**
**"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."**
**My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really
felt.**
**Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left
Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts.
Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of
distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about
him?**
**Dad had been a lumberjack in **Washington** and Oregon . He had
enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against
the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions,
and had placed often.**
**The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to
his prowess.**
**The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a
heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside
alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased
him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had
done as a younger man.**
**Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An
ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to
keep blood and oxygen flowing.**
**At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky;
he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone.
He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers
of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of
visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.**
**My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small
farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.**
**Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed
nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became
frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We
began to bicker and argue.**
**Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The
clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of
each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.**
**But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done
and it was up to me to do it.**
**The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called
each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I
explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in
vain.**
**Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed,
"I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article..."**
**I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done
at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic
depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were
given responsibility for a dog.**
**I drove to the **animal shelter** that afternoon. After I filled out a
questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of
disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each
contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs,
**black dogs**, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I
studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons
too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the
shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of
the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's
aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.**
**Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip
bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught
and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.**
**I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"**
**The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny
one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought
him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two
weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured
helplessly.**
**As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're
going to kill him?"**
**"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for
every unclaimed dog."**
**I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my
decision. "I'll take him," I said.**
**I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me.. When I reached
the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car
when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you,
Dad!" I said excitedly.**
**Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog
I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen
than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm
scornfully and turned back toward the house.**
**Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and
pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's
staying!"**
**Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.**
**At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides,
his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.**
**We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the
pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down
in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.**
**Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion
replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad
was on his knees hugging the animal.**
**It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the
pointer Cheyenne . Together he and **Cheyenne** explored the community.
They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective
moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even
started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and
Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.**
**Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years.
Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late
one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through
our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I
woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his
bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during
the night.**
**Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne
lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he
had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I
silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's
peace of mind.**
**The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day
looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the
pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad
and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy.
It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And
then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show
hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels
without knowing it."**
**"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.**
**For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had
not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right
article...**
**Cheyenne****'s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter...his calm
acceptance and complete devotion to my father.... and the proximity of
their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered
my prayers after all.**
**Life is too short for drama, petty things, so laugh hard, love truly
and forgive quickly. Live while you are alive. Forgive now those who
made you cry. You might not get a second time.**
**And if you don't send this to at least 4 people --who cares? But do
share this with someone. Lost time can never be found.**
** **
**This only proves that God answers our Prayers in His time, not ours.***