hello my friends, Here is a poem Ron Kolle put up.Hope this helps.Kathy/simikathy.com http://community.adlandpro.com/go/Ron54 Invite Ron as your friend- I hope this makes you think about things differently, like it did me! DADDY, HOW MUCH DO YOU MAKE AN HOUR? A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 7-year old son waiting for him at the door. "Daddy, may I ask you a question?" "Yeah sure, what is it?" replied the man. "Daddy, how much do you make an hour?" "That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily. "I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy. "If you must know, I make #12 an hour." "Oh," the little boy replied, with his head down. Looking up, he asked, "Daddy, may I please borrow #5 from you?" The father was furious, "If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish." The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think: Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that #5 and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door. "Are you asleep, son?" He asked. "No daddy, I'm awake." replied the boy. "I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the father, "It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here's the #5 you asked for." The little boy sat straight up, smiling. "Oh, thank you daddy!" He yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out a collection of coins. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at his father. "Why do you want more money if you already have some?" the father grumbled. "Because I didn't have enough, - but now I do," the little boy replied. "Daddy, I have #12 now. Can I buy an hour of your time? Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you." Share this story with someone you like.... But even better, share #12 worth of time with someone you love. It's just a short reminder to all of us working so hard in life. We should not let time slip through our fingers without having spent some time with those who really matter to us, those close to our hearts. If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for will easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family and friends we leave behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family - an unwise investment, indeed. Sincerely

There is a song out now that states the exact same thing. Sometimes

we get so caught up in work we forget the most important (or should be)

things in life

Stop and smell the roses life is toooooo short not to.

Leslie

Hi Kathy

A beautiful poem.  Thank you for sharing.

Here is a poem I was asked to place on my personal website of poetry:

Daddy

Should I call you daddy?
Or should I call you father?
Am I your son?
Or just another bother?

You come and you go
only as you choose.
You walk all over me,
my heart you have abused.

You're never there when I need you,
you never think of me.
I see what's going on,
even though I'm only three.

You see all the pain and questions within my eyes.
When I leave, you tell me " I love you Dustin."
How can you tell this lie?

When I grow up I will look down on you
with anger and hate.
For you father,
it will be too late.

I suppose I should call you father
because a DAD is someone special.
Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone
better then you to be a dad.
Someone to love me good or bad.

I don't think it matters much to you,
for you would not love me either way.
I will still grow up strong without you,
and I promise I will be a DADDY someday.

July, 1995
Written by
Tania Lachance ©
for my son Dustin Ware


Kind regards
Amanda Martin-Shaver

Kathy Hello,  Like leslie states, it is within a song. This poem and the song is sometimes a thorn in my side. Not haveing my children at my home when I arrive after my day sometimes twists that thorn. it wasn't my dessiction for my kids not to see me everyday. It wasn't my plan in life for the way things change. I wanted to be there for their achievements and mishaps. To go to their school plays and watch them. To guide them with advice from what i've experienced and learned. Theres' never enough time in a weekend for time for everything I need, want, must, should, desire, dream, hope to do. Theres no cetching up the time lost, the dream stolen, the home givin up, the way of life meant to be for a (Dad) and his children... I bite my tounge about the one i chose, so young our fate was closed. caught up in the rush of growing up fresh out of school, young and dumb, thinking we knew what we wanted then...   time goes without waiting for anyone. Time is the only thing that is in total control and constantly against Dads like me. ..   Anyway I like the song.... 

Hello Mike,
Ok Wheres my box of tissue for gosh sakes,Omg, Can I feel you any deeper in my heart?????You need Hugs, Kathy/simikathy.com