(Source: justherguy, via spenceralthouse)
A LETTER IN THE LOST WALLET
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 sixty 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 any more 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 old timer 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 old timers 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.
————— (( *♥* )) ————— (( *♥* )) ————— (( *♥* )) —————
“NO MATTER HOW LONG YOU’VE WAIT… IT DOESN’T MATTER IF IT TAKES YEARS EVEN A DECADE… IF GOD ALLOWS IT… NO ONE NOR ANYTHING WILL BE HARD… IT ALWAYS WORTH IT… TRUE LOVE CONQUERS ALL…”
(via versucky)
Most people say that it’s ridiculous to say that the Harry Potter books saved lives, but read this and you’ll change your perspective. Evanna Lynch, who plays Luna Lovegood in Harry Potter, once wrote to J.K. Rowling begging for at least a tiny role in one of the films. At the time she was young and was dying due to her anorexia. She mentioned it to J.K. and begged to have one part in the film before it was too late. J.K. Rowling responded with a deal: she’d give her a part if she got better. Evanna got better and never returned to her anorexia.
Reblog every time because 1. It’s fucking awesome. 2. She’s fucking gorgeous. and 3. Books save lives.
(Source: bookshelpmeescape, via looses)
"1. push yourself to get up before the rest of the world - start with 7am, then 6am, then 5:30am. go to the nearest hill with a big coat and a scarf and watch the sun rise.
2. push yourself to fall asleep earlier - start with 11pm, then 10pm, then 9pm. wake up in the morning feeling re-energized and comfortable.
3. erase processed food from your diet. start with no lollies, chips, biscuits, then erase pasta, rice, cereal, then bread. use the rule that if a child couldn’t identify what was in it, you don’t eat it.
4. get into the habit of cooking yourself a beautiful breakfast. fry tomatoes and mushrooms in real butter and garlic, fry an egg, slice up a fresh avocado and squirt way too much lemon on it. sit and eat it and do nothing else.
5. stretch. start by reaching for the sky as hard as you can, then trying to touch your toes. roll your head. stretch your fingers. stretch everything.
6. buy a 1L water bottle. start with pushing yourself to drink the whole thing in a day, then try drinking it twice.
7. buy a beautiful diary and a beautiful black pen. write down everything you do, including dinner dates, appointments, assignments, coffees, what you need to do that day. no detail is too small.
8. strip your bed of your sheets and empty your underwear draw into the washing machine. put a massive scoop of scented fabric softener in there and wash. make your bed in full.
9. organise your room. fold all your clothes (and bag what you don’t want), clean your mirror, your laptop, vacuum the floor. light a beautiful candle.
10. have a luxurious shower with your favourite music playing. wash your hair, scrub your body, brush your teeth. lather your whole body in moisturiser, get familiar with the part between your toes, your inner thighs, the back of your neck.
11. push yourself to go for a walk. take your headphones, go to the beach and walk. smile at strangers walking the other way and be surprised how many smile back. bring your dog and observe the dog’s behaviour. realise you can learn from your dog.
12. message old friends with personal jokes. reminisce. suggest a catch up soon, even if you don’t follow through. push yourself to follow through.
14. think long and hard about what interests you. crime? sex? boarding school? long-forgotten romance etiquette? find a book about it and read it. there is a book about literally everything.
15. become the person you would ideally fall in love with. let cars merge into your lane when driving. pay double for parking tickets and leave a second one in the machine. stick your tongue out at babies. compliment people on their cute clothes. challenge yourself to not ridicule anyone for a whole day. then two. then a week. walk with a straight posture. look people in the eye. ask people about their story. talk to acquaintances so they become friends.
16. lie in the sunshine. daydream about the life you would lead if failure wasn’t a thing. open your eyes. take small steps to make it happen for you."
(Source: emmaorwhatever, via takemeback-)
Fun Fact:
The fall was not scripted, Anne actually slipped while filming, although she started laughing they kept with the scene. The director didn’t yell cut because she waved her hand a little (what looked like when she waved at Lily to keep talking) to signal that she wanted to keep filming the shot. The editor eventually chose this shot because he felt it fit Mia’s character a lot more than the scripted shots they had.
how did she not start crying after getting cunt punted that hard.
Lets all take a minute and realize the lack of creativity in the name “fire place”.
“wheelchair”
table cloth
waterfall
BUT NOT A HAMBURGER
OH NO
THAT SHIT’S FUCKING BEEF
PLOT TWIST
Hamburgers are named such because they are a burger that originated in Hamburg, Germany. Thank you goodnight
ooooo shit got ruul
wow I’ve never seen a bird drink before
that’s a snake
(Source: exploitastic, via cuntradickting)
wow I’ve never seen a bird drink before
that’s a snake
(Source: exploitastic, via cuntradickting)
- us government: *accidentally likes your pic from 2009*
(Source: dakotars, via nightmarewaltz)
This is an Anthem, So Fucking Sing!
I can’t even describe how excited I am for Octoberrrr
(Source: m-a-d-h-a-u-s, via fake-mermaid)
