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A nice young Post Office worker was sorting through her regular mail when she discovered a letter addressed as follows:
GOD, c/o Heaven.
Upon opening the envelope, the enclosed letter told about a little old lady who had never asked for anything in her life. She was desperately in need of $100 and was wondering if God could send her the money.
The young lady was deeply touched, and passed the hat among her work mates. She managed to collect $90, and she sent it off to the old lady.
A few weeks later another letter arrived addressed in the same way to God, so the young lady opened it. The letter read,
“Thank you for the money, God, I deeply appreciate it. However, I received only $90. It must have been those jerks at the post office!”

A little girl was sitting on her grandfather’s lap as he read her a bedtime story. From time to time, she would take her eyes off the book and reach up to touch his wrinkled cheek.

She was alternately stroking her own cheek, then his again. Finally she spoke up, “Grandpa, did God make you?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” he answered, “God made me a long time ago.”
“Oh,” she paused, “Grandpa, did God make me too?”
“Yes, indeed, honey,” he said, “God made you a little while ago.”

Feeling their respective faces again, she observed, “God’s getting better at it, isn’t he?”

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all I am able to grin
when I recall where my get up has been.

Old age is golden-so I’ve heard it said-
but sometimes I wonder when I get into bed,
with my ears in a drawer and my teeth in a cup,
my eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep dims my eyes I say to myself,
“Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?”
And I’m happy to say as I close my door,
my friends are the same, perhaps even more.

When I was young, my slippers were red,
I could pick up my heels right over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
but still I could dance the whole night through.

But now I am old, my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
my get up and go has got up and went.

But I really don’t mind when I think, with a grin,
of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life’s competition,
I accommodate myself with complete repetition.

I get up each morning, and dust off my wits,
pick up my paper and read the “obits”.
If my name is missing, I know I’m not dead,
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the very elderly widow and asked, “How old was your husband?”

“98,” she replied. “Two years older than me.”

“So you’re 96,” the undertaker commented. “Hardly worth going home, isn’t it?”

A young man who was also an avid golfer found himself with a few hours to spare one afternoon. He figured if he hurried and played very fast, he could get in 9 holes before he had to head home.

Just as he was about to tee off an old gentleman shuffled onto the tee and asked if he could accompany the young man as he was golfing alone. Not being able to say no, he allowed the old gent to join him. To his surprise the old man played fairly quickly. He didn’t hit the ball far, but plodded along consistently and didn’t waste much time.

Finally, they reached the 9th fairway and the young man found himself with a tough shot. There was a large pine tree right in front of his ball, directly between his ball and the green. After several minutes of debating how to hit the shot the old man finally said, “You know, when I was your age I’d hit the ball right over that tree.”

With that challenge placed before him, the youngster swung hard, hit the ball up, right smack into the top of the tree trunk and it thudded back on the ground not a foot from where it had originally lay.

The old man offered one more comment, “Of course, when I was your age that pine tree was only 3 feet tall.”



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