HelloFridays

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It takes forever for these homemade graphics of mine to load. I would like to say it is well worth the wait, but after you've waited the 45 seconds or so you would probably be so upset that you would not get anything out of the inspirational section below. So I suggest that you go ahead and start reading the text and then come back to the top when your done. Then you can admire my limited graphics ability. Sincerely, HF graphics department.

From Beautiful Belleair Bluffs, Florida:
Hello Fridays attempts to get you to do two things: to think and to laugh, both of which are critical to your health and success in an ever-challenging world. Take a moment and ponder with your heart, and then turn around, kick back, and laugh until it hurts. You deserve the inspiration and the break! GOD BLESS.
NUMBER 31

Take Stock

Diane and I inherited a little bit of money last year. We used it to pay off all of our debts (except our mortgage), paint and carpet the house (which was about 5 years over due), buy a used van (7 years old but in great shape and yes, we paid cash) and do something we always wanted to do -- save a little. On the advice of a good friend I started putting a little into a mutual fund last January. The idea was (according to my wise counsel) to put so much money in each month for 10 months instead of in a lump some. This way you could avoid any hiccups (his exact words) in the market. So I did. I had never had an investment before. I actually tracked it almost every day. Things were going quite well. I even convinced my two teenagers to invest their meager savings in the fund. After all it was growing in leaps and bounds. I bragged to friends that they should be in the market. Things were going so well that I jumped the gun and made my last installment early. It landed in my account the very day the bottom began to fall out of the Stock Market. Well that was six weeks ago and all my bragging rights are gone. I have learned a big lesson, don't trust in money, don't think about money, don't worry about money. Jesus said you cannot have two masters. It is either Him or money, but it cannot be both.

So, I am now in the process of memorizing Mathew 6:25-34. You know the passage. Jesus tells it like it is. He says don't be concerned about food or clothes or even your life, God know your needs better than you do. Focus on pleasing Him with your desires. And whatever happens don't worry, especially about money, he owns it all and He always takes care of His kids.
I believe I learned my lesson. My learning has been reinforced by the fact that God provided that inheritance in the first place, out of nowhere to meet some needs that we were praying about. He's got it under control. Jesus said not to run after stuff -- not even the necessities (v. 32) "Your heavenly father knows you need these things - but instead seek Him first.!"

There is a lot of fun to be found in the different stories you will find below, but whatever you do, don't miss the one called "The Fisherman". In a world obsessed with self-gratification, and the seeking of one's rights, this simple, true story paints a vivid picture of how we should act and think. It will touch your heart!

Now it's time to get SILLY

APHORISMS FOR OUR TIME
(sent in by Laurie Hale - Texas)

Deja Moo: The feeling that you've heard this bull before.

If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.

Money can't buy happiness. But it sure makes misery easier to live with.

Nothing in the known universe travels faster than a bad check.

Vital papers will demonstrate their vitality by moving from where you left them to where you can't find them.

Always remember to pillage BEFORE you burn.

The trouble with doing something right the first time is that nobody appreciates how difficult it was.

It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as warning to others.

Ray's Law: You can't fall off the floor.

Paranoids are people too; they have their own problems. It's easy to criticize, but if everybody hated you, you'd be paranoid too.

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.

Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism.

Success always occurs in private, and failure in full view.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.

To succeed in politics, it is often necessary to rise above your principles.

The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll have to catch up.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.

Borrow money from pessimists - they don't expect it back.

ONE FOR MUSIC LOVERS!!! >/td>
(sent in by Cheryl Orr - Florida)

A tourist in Vienna is going through a graveyard and all of a sudden he hears some music. No one is around, so he starts searching for the source. He finally locates the origin and finds it is coming from a grave with a headstone that reads: Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827. Then he realizes that the music is the Ninth Symphony and it is being played backward! Puzzled, he leaves the graveyard and persuades a friend to return with him. By the time they arrive back at the grave, the music has changed. This time it is the Seventh Symphony, but like the previous piece, it is being played backward. Curious, the men agree to consult a music scholar.

When they return with the expert, the Fifth Symphony is playing, again backward. The expert notices that the symphonies are being played in the reverse order in which they were composed, the 9th, then the 7th, then the 5th. By the next day the word has spread and a throng has gathered around the grave. They are all listening to the Second Symphony being played backward.

Just then the graveyard's caretaker ambles up to the group. Someone in the crowd asks him if he has an explanation for the music. "Don't you get it?" the caretaker says incredulously. He's decomposing!"

ONLY IN AMERICA >/td>
(sent in by Ray Sommers - Florida)

Only in America...can a pizza get to your house faster than an ambulance..

Only in America...do people order double cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a DIET coke...

Only in America...do banks leave both doors open and then chain the pens to the counters...

Only in America...do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and leave useless things and junk in boxes in the garage...

Only in America...do we use answering machines to screen calls and then have call waiting so we won't miss a call from someone we didn't want to talk to in the first place...

Only in America...do we buy hot dogs in packages of ten and buns in packages of eight...

Only in America...do we use the word "politics" to describe the process so well: "Poli" in Latin meaning "many" and "tics" meaning "bloodsucking creatures.

NOTES FROM AN INEXPERIENCED CHILI TASTER NAMED FRANK: >/td>
(sent in by Larry LaGrande - Florida)

HF editors note: ( I had to edit this quite a bit but it was so funny I decided to use it)

"Recently I was honored to be selected as an Outstanding Famous Celebrity in Texas, to be a judge at a chili cook-off because no one else wanted to do it. Also the original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking directions to the concession stand when the call came. I was assured by the other two judges that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy, and besides they told me I could have free drinks during the tasting, so I accepted this as being one of those burdens you endure when you're an internet writer and therefore known and adored by all."

Here are the scorecards from the event:

Chili # 1: Mike's Maniac Mobster Monster Chili

JUDGE ONE: A little too heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.
JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavor Very mild.
FRANK: Holy smokes, what is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway with it. Took me two glasses of water to put the flames out. Hope that's the worst one. These people are crazy.

Chili # 2: Arthur's Afterburner Chili

JUDGE ONE: Smoky (barbecue?) with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.
JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
FRANK: Keep this out of reach of children! I'm not sure what I am supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. Shoved my way to the front of the concession stand. The lady behind the counter looks like a professional wrestler after a bad night. She was so irritated over my gagging sounds that the snake tattoo under her eye started to twitch. She has arms like Popeye and a face like Winston Churchill. I will NOT pick a fight with her.

Chili # 3: Fred's Famous Burn Down the Barn Chili

JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans.
JUDGE TWO: A beanless chili, a bit salty, good use of red peppers.
FRANK: This has got to be a joke. Call the EPA, I've located a legitimate uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been sneezing Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now and got out of my way so I could make it to the drink line. The lady at the counter pounded me on the back; now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. She said her friends call her "Sally." Probably behind her back they call her "Forklift."

Chili # 4: Bubba's Black Magic

JUDGE ONE: Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Sally was standing behind me with fresh refills so I wouldn't have to dash over to see her. When she winked at me her snake sort of coiled and uncoiled ... it's kinda cute.

Chili # 5: Linda's Legal Lip Remover

JUDGE ONE: Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
JUDGE TWO: Chili using shredded beef; could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
FRANK: My ears are ringing and I can no longer focus my eyes. I belched and four people in front of me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed hurt when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue by pouring water directly on it from a pitcher. Sort of irritates me that one of the other judges asked me to stop screaming.

Chili # 6: Vera's Very Vegetarian Variety

JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice and peppers.
JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous flames. I asked Sally if she wants to go dancing later.

Chili # 7: Susan's Screaming Sensation Chili

JUDGE ONE: A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum, tastes as if the chef threw in canned chili peppers at the last moment. I should note that I am worried about Judge Number 3, he appears to be in a bit of distress.
FRANK: You could put a hand grenade in my mouth and pull the pin and I wouldn't feel it. I've lost the sight in one eye and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My clothes are covered with chili which slid unnoticed out of my mouth at some point. Good, at the autopsy they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful and I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air I'll just let it in through the hole in my stomach.

Chili # 8: Helen's Mount Saint Chili

JUDGE ONE: This final entry is a good, balanced chili, neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge Number 3 fell and pulled the chili pot on top of himself.
JUDGE TWO: A perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili, safe for all, not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
FRANK: Momma??!!

Now it's time to get SILLY

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Now it's time to get SILLY

THE OLD FISHERMAN >/td>
(sent in by Chyrs Hambley - Florida)

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face -- lopsided from swelling, red and raw.

Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus till morning."

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . ."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning."

I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."

I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Well, maybe we did lose roomers once or twice.

But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind.

"I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when He came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."

All this happened long ago -- and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

THE FENCE >/td>
(sent in by Mark Hengstenberg - Florida)

There was a little boy with a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, to hammer a nail in the back fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.

When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you care.

THE STRANGER >/td>
(sent by Susan Lewis - California)

A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later. As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family.

In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors. Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it.

But, the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science; he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched. He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars. My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular. The stranger was an incessant talker.

Dad didn't seem to mind, but sometimes Mom would quietly get up, while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places. She would go to her room, read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed the stranger would leave.

You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but this stranger never felt an obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house, not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home, not even for cooking. But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightenment to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often. He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationships were influenced by the stranger.

As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.

More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name? I only knew him as "TV".

Hey,

Hello Fridays now goes out to well over 200 folks. Then, from what I am told, you all forward it to many more. There have been over 600 hits on the web page since it started 3 issues ago. It really is fun to put together, and thanks for the many, many funny and serious pieces you all send in. (I may have to do a book!)

The Mustache Guy

We are really having a lot of fun at HEDGEBUILDERS these days. We are now in 14 states and 3 countries. We have just premiered our brand new HB SAFE BROWSER 4.0. You can read about it at www.hedge.org. In a week or so I am going to release information about a special free offer for HF readers only - watch your e-mail boxes for this special offer.

May God continue to bless with His love and grace. And may you have that ability to laugh and to cry and to experience life to its fullest. And finally, don't serve money - it is terrible master!

God bless and have a great week! Ken

P.S. I have built in an Archives section below if you would like to read any of the previous issues.

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I would love to hear from you at Hello-Fridays@juno.com

(Special note to new "Hello Fridays" recipients. "Hello Fridays" is a free, bi-monthly, e-mail publication (and now Web page) that I send out which includes inspiration and wit. It all started in February of 1997. You are receiving it because you either requested it, someone else put you on the recipient's list, it was forwarded to you, or through sheer dumb luck. If, for some unexplainable reason, you would like to discontinue receiving HF, you can e-mail me at Hello-Fridays@juno.com to let me know to remove you from future mailings. Also if you come across any neat stuff, either serious or funny, that you think would make a great addition to HF, please send it my way.)