Saying THANKS!

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When we get old, doing things for others seems to be what keeps us happy and keeps us 'going'.  We want to feel needed, important, and somewhat appreciated.  Too, when we get old,  we think back about the people who made an impression on us, made a difference in who we became. Most times we feel regret that we never took the time to tell them.  It saddens me that I let so many people who were important and significant in my life go un-thanked.   There is a movie in the video stores "Tuesdays with Morrie". Rent it.   If you can still find any of those special people,  if they are still upon this earth, do both them and yourself a favor.....take a little time to find them and just let them know they were significant in your life.
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These people are gone.  I can't even remember some of their names,  but what they did for me and their faces will remain with me forever.   Here is my tribute to them.  Hopefully it will spur some desire in you to seek out those you can before you have to hope that the Angels they become will hear your thoughts.
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He was a grandfatherly type.   He reminded me of my grandpa.  Tall, gangly, compassionate and old.  He was the 'Ornamental Horticulture' teacher at Carmelita Jr. High. With his instruction,   I learned to appreciate the beauty of flowers.  He had me stand up in front of the PTA meeting and show how to make a corsage.  I was terrified, but with his compassion,  I survived.  Me and a few others 'raided' the garden one night and pulled up the plants of some of the kids we didn't like.    He had tears in his eyes when he 'told me' what had happened.  He never asked if I did it.  He didn't need to. He knew I was involved. My shame was punishment enough.  I passed with an A.  He let me be my own judge of my moral character.  I'm so sorry I never went back and said "Thank You".
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In college,  I was an 'old lady' of 26.   Students often asked me if I was looking for my son or daughter.  Boy,   can that deflate your ego.  Speech was required.  The teacher was 'ancient' according to the students.  Being a required class made it that much harder for the teacher.  Too many of the students didn't want to be there and they let it be known.  This man was a good teacher.  He had a lot to teach.  A lot to give.  Like him,  I too felt alienated by these 'children'.  No one wanted to team up with me either when it came to group assignments.  Often times he'd take extra time with me, but I had other agendas. I heard a few years later that mine was the last class he taught.  He retired and died shortly there after.  If I had just taken the time to let him know he was a good teacher.  That he had not outlived his usefulness.