Story of a Soldier

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.

"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."
"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are. Thankfully , there's someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.

Finally,
Dont strew me with roses after i'm dead, when death claims the light of my brow, no flowers of life will cheer me - instead you may give me my roses now.. :)

A DYING BREED

I am 28 years old and I am growing up in a world of extremism. A rapidly growing outlet for anger has changed from exchanging of a few harsh words and holding of collars to a bullet. The only noticeable expression of a comfortable life has changed from healthy meals and shopping sprees once a month to setting up camp in malls, at least 3 cars for the two members of your family and an Armani wrist watch on your hand. The Jeans are getting shorter, the tops are getting lower, TV screens are getting bigger and religion no more echoes faith in anything larger than life but has become a business. The more we move towards the glowing light emitting from dollar bills and pounds, the blinder we are becoming to the littered streets of our nation. The more we get hypnotized by the sound of gold coins clinking together, the deafer we are to the voices of the poor. Money is no more a medium of payment to buy and sell goods. Instead, it has become a pass to neglect morality, social responsibility, law, heck even traffic lights. A pass “GUARANTEED BY THE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT” in case you have any legal reservations and stamped with Gandhiji’s smiling face on it in case you have any moral reservations. The world is tumbling into a pit of chaos and there is no gravity defying superhero in sight to save us.

But there is hope. And the realization of this hope can only come if people my age listen. Listen, learn and rectify. It seems as though the new parents, those in between the generation that my parents belong to and the generation I belong to, have relinquished responsibility and left parenting up to televisions and computers. Boundaries that are important to maintain a healthy growing atmosphere are becoming blurred because parents push their children to extremes to help them keep up with the extremism. In keeping up with school, extra tuition, football classes, dance classes, swimming classes, art classes, birthdays and endless banal social obligations, the time for parents to discipline and germinate a conscience in their children has disappeared. And it took the entire breed of distinguished parents who truly understood how to raise responsible human beings along with it.

But there is still hope. The hope is with you and me. Spend time with your children when you have them. Remember their birthdays because you’re happy they were born and not because it is an opportunity to flaunt your money by throwing a party. Buy them what they need, even occasionally what they want; don’t buy them everything. Don’t be embarrassed by their public tantrums and give in to their every demand. When they get their first job, don’t ask about the pay. Instead, pop down to Archie's and buy them a card. Don’t be afraid to hurt their feelings if you’re doing it for their own good. Give them pocket money not blank cheques. And most importantly, remember everything your parents did while raising you that annoyed you the most, and do it. They were the ones trying to salvage the dying breed. So listen to them, learn from them and then perhaps we can rectify the extremism we’re living in.