STORIES

         
      The Four Frogs 

      Posted: 29 Aug 2008 07:44 AM CDT

      Four frogs sat upon a log that lay floating on the edge of a river. 
Suddenly the log was caught by the current and swept slowly down the stream. 
The frogs were delighted and absorbed, for never before had they sailed.

      At length the first frog spoke, and said, "This is indeed a most 
marvellous log. It moves as if alive. No such log was ever known before."

      Then the second frog spoke, and said, "Nay, my friend, the log is like 
other logs, and does not move. It is the river that is walking to the sea, and 
carries us and the log with it."

      And the third frog spoke, and said, "It is neither the log nor the river 
that moves. The moving is in our thinking. For without thought nothing moves."

      And the three frogs began to wrangle about what was really moving. The 
quarrel grew hotter and louder, but they could not agree.Then they turned to 
the fourth frog, who up to this time had been listening attentively but holding 
his peace, and they asked his opinion. 
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      And the fourth frog said, "Each of you is right, and none of you is 
wrong. The moving is in the log and the water and our thinking also."

      And the three frogs became very angry, for none of them was willing to 
admit that his was not the whole truth, and that the other two were not wholly 
wrong.

      Then a strange thing happened. The three frogs got together and pushed 
the fourth frog off the log into the river.

      You may also like to read -

      a.. Biggest Weakness Can Become Your Biggest Strength 
      a.. The Little Girl and the Piano 
      a.. A New Pair of Shoes 
      a.. An Acceptance 
      a.. Focus (and Time Management)





       
               
     
      The Stranger 

      Posted: 29 Aug 2008 08:16 AM CDT

      Contributed by: Colonel A Sridharan

      A  few years after I was born, my dad met a stranger  who was new to our  
small 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 from then on.

      As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my  family. In my young 
mind,  he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mum  
taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger ..... he 
was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound  for hours on end with  
adventures, mysteries, and comedies. If I wanted to  know anything about  
politics, history or science, he always knew the  answers about the past,  
understood the present and even seemed able to  predict the future!

      He took my family to the football and cricket. He  made me laugh, and he  
made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to  mind.*

      Sometimes, Mum would get up quietly while the rest  of us were shushing 
each  other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen 
for  peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to  
leave.)

      Dad ruled our household with certain moral  convictions, but the stranger 
 never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for  example, was not allowed  
in our home ... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our longtime  
visitor, however, got away with four-letter words  that burned my ears and  
made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

      My dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol.  But the stranger 
encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made  cigarettes look cool, 
cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked  freely (much too freely) 
about sex.. His comments were sometimes blatant,  sometimes suggestive, and  
generally embarrassing. 
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      I now know that my early concepts about  relationships were influenced 
strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he  opposed the values of my 
parents, yet he was seldom rebuked ... And NEVER  asked to leave.

      More than fifty years have passed since the  stranger moved in with our 
family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as  fascinating as he was at 
first. If you could walk into my parents' den  today, you would still find him 
sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone  to listen to him talk and 
watch him draw his pictures.

      His name?

      We just call him,  'TV.'

      Note: This should be a  required reading for  every household!

      You may also like to read -

      a.. Little Dog 
      a.. Plan B 
      a.. Holding Hands 
      a.. The Old Dog 
      a.. Rotting Potatoes





       
               
     

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