Carl

[Guest guest]

Very touching story

This is one of the nicest stories I have seen on the Internet!!! Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well. Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in W.W.II. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity. When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up. He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had alwaysfeared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day whenthree gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him ,he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, theminister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat wasunchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This timethey didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenchedhim head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliationof him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses,falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had justdone. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun,picked up his hose, and went on with his watering. The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time. "The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarredhand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Carl asked. "It's yourstuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in yourwallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But everytime we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street. Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden. "The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishionersuntil one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him. "The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it. One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?" "Carl," he replied.GOOD FRIENDS ARE LIKE ANGELS, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE THEM TO KNOW THEY ARE THERE.

~LoneStarRose~ (~~) ~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~ The Being Sick CommunityMessage Archives-/messagesChat:- Scheduled Chats at /chatBookmarks:-Add a website URL you have found useful./linksPersonal Complaints or problems:-Please contact a moderator email: -owner Subscription Details:-1) Individual email - means that every email sent to the list you receive.2) Daily Digest - sends you 25 messages in one single email for you to browse. This is an excellent option if you receive alot of email.3) Web only/No mail - means that you can pop into groups at your convenience and receive no email.To modify your subscription settings please visit:- /joinTo subscribe or unsubscribe please email:--subscribe -unsubscribe This group is not intended to diagnose or treat illnesses. No one on this group is qualified to diagnose medical conditions. If you feel you need medical attention, seek the advice of a qualified physician.~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~When nothing is sure, everything is possible.--- Margaret Drabble~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~

[Guest guest]

This brought tears to my eyes...thank you for sharing.

Hugs,

Carl

This is one of the nicest stories I have seen on the Internet!!! Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well. Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in W.W.II. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity. When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up. He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had alwaysfeared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day whenthree gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him ,he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, theminister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat wasunchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This timethey didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenchedhim head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliationof him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses,falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had justdone. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun,picked up his hose, and went on with his watering. The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time. "The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarredhand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Carl asked. "It's yourstuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in yourwallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But everytime we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street. Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden. "The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishionersuntil one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him. "The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it. One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?" "Carl," he replied.GOOD FRIENDS ARE LIKE ANGELS, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE THEM TO KNOW THEY ARE THERE.

~LoneStarRose~ (~~) ~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~ The Being Sick CommunityMessage Archives-/messagesChat:- Scheduled Chats at /chatBookmarks:-Add a website URL you have found useful./linksPersonal Complaints or problems:-Please contact a moderator email: -owner Subscription Details:-1) Individual email - means that every email sent to the list you receive.2) Daily Digest - sends you 25 messages in one single email for you to browse. This is an excellent option if you receive alot of email.3) Web only/No mail - means that you can pop into groups at your convenience and receive no email.To modify your subscription settings please visit:- /joinTo subscribe or unsubscribe please email:--subscribe -unsubscribe This group is not intended to diagnose or treat illnesses. No one on this group is qualified to diagnose medical conditions. If you feel you need medical attention, seek the advice of a qualified physician.~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~When nothing is sure, everything is possible.--- Margaret Drabble~~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~~

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[Guest guest]

Carl Cope wrote:

> > I would like to train women. " Ladies, repeat after me...'Carl, you

> are the most handsome, sweetest, sexiest man I know. And you're

> incredibly witty, to boot!' "

hey, i cant attest to the handsome and sexy parts, but i do think

that you are quite witty and you seem like a sweet guy in your

messages

> I bet you, training them to say this would be easier than balancing on a

> bosu!!

ROFL!!!!

:*carolyn.

[Guest guest]

I agree with Carolyn, Carl. I enjoy your posts and

regarding your struggles I think we all can relate.

Why not send me a photo of yourself for the homepage

so we can match a face with your writing voice? It

doesn't matter what you look like, honestly (did you

see my photo, the one before Darcy's? I'm pudgy!)

You gottta love yourself no matter where you're at

(easier said than done, I know) because it's your

body, it takes you places and works for you, and

deserves your love.

Beauty really is an inner thing. I had a crush on a

man I met on a train in Italy that was well over 300

pounds. He carried himself very well, was confident,

and he charmed my socks off!

Hugs

[Guest guest]

Way to go Carl!! Congrats!!!!