<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108</id><updated>2012-01-24T15:48:58.734-10:00</updated><category term='Holiday Story'/><category term='Story'/><category term='Best Friends'/><category term='Posting Changes'/><category term='Halloween Story'/><category term='Christmas Story'/><category term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><category term='Pumpkins'/><category term='Friendship'/><title type='text'>Nice Little Stories</title><subtitle type='html'>Over the years I've been writing short little stories for my own pleasure and for the amusement of friends and family and now I'd like to share a few of them with you.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-3874842222886320514</id><published>2011-12-15T12:58:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T12:58:13.990-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Best Friends'/><title type='text'>Best Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="p1"&gt;At this time of year it's about family and friends isn't it. And friends sometimes become very very important, more so than at other times of the year even. With that thought in mind, that was my inspiration for my holiday story here. I hope you like it:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Once upon a time there were two friends who lived in a cloud. One day they noticed that the cloud was getting wetter and wetter and they were happy because they were droplets of water themselves.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;What do you think it means said one to the other. Jeffrey, who was one of the droplets of water said, "I heard that when this happens that we get to take that wonderful ride." "You mean whizzing down from the sky to the ground?" said Jenny who was the other drop of water.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;"That's right," said Jeffrey, "It seems to be getting really cold though." "I know, said Jenny, "It feels good."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Well, the cloud got bigger and bigger and taller and taller and colder and colder and pretty soon Jeffrey and Jenny took on beautiful new shapes. They became snowflakes and looked like tiny crystals.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Suddenly something happened. Jeffrey said, "What is it. What's going on?" "I think we're moving," said Jenny, "Yes, yes we're definitely moving."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Now they were two snowflakes just fluttering down very slowly out of a large cloud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Of course there were thousands and thousands - maybe even millions of other snowflakes but these two snowflakes were best friends.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;They had a long way to fall and every once in a while the wind would come along and they'd fly way back up in the sky again and because they were best friends they held on to each other and stayed together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;They loved how many different shapes the snowflakes had, no two snowflakes being exactly alike, and how beautiful they were. They admired the unusual shapes and the different forms and they particularly enjoyed when a ray of sun would come through and there would be a snow-bow and the crystal-like snowflakes would all light up in beautiful different colors. Oh, it was so wonderful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;But slowly they were moving towards the ground with the winds swirling around them. Just a few hundred feet before they got there it was so blustery they were afraid they might be separated so they kissed each other goodbye and Jenny said, "I'll see you later on the ground." They both hoped that would be so.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;And sure enough even though they separated, because they were such good friends and because the angels felt kindly towards them they landed next to each other right on top of a big snowman that two children had built.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;It was very cold there, being on top of a mountain, and do you know that for the whole winter that snowman was there because it was very chilly high up in the mountains.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Every once in a while one of the children would come along and put another piece of coal into the mouth of the snowman so that it would have a bigger and then even bigger smile. And once somebody put a carrot in so that that snowman would have a big jolly looking nose and everyone who walked by would smile and enjoy the cheerful looking snowman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;But the two snowflakes were close and they talked to each other and they slept together and they dreamed together and they enjoyed the whole winter together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="p1"&gt;Happy holidays to you all and to your best friends too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-3874842222886320514?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/3874842222886320514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=3874842222886320514&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/3874842222886320514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/3874842222886320514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2011/12/best-friends.html' title='Best Friends'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-1422795737762523477</id><published>2011-10-24T15:54:00.007-10:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T16:27:04.504-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pumpkins'/><title type='text'>Getting Ready</title><content type='html'>&lt;title&gt;&lt;/title&gt;   &lt;style type="text/css"&gt;p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 21.0px Helvetica}p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 21.0px Helvetica; min-height: 25.0px}span.s1 {font: 24.0px Helvetica}span.s2 {font: 23.0px Helvetica}&lt;/style&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"So, what… you're just going to lie there?" Fred asked slightly annoyed. &lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean by that?" George asked. &lt;br /&gt;"Well, you're just laying there and you're not making any expression," Fred continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what do you expect me to do? I'm a pumpkin. What do you expect?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I'm a pumpkin too but look at me," Fred said proudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, I'm looking at you," George answered wondering what this was all about.&lt;br /&gt;"Can't you see the expression?" Fred demanded.&lt;br /&gt;"Well… kind of but you keep changing it."&lt;br /&gt;"Well… see - you can see it. Why don't you do that?" Fred explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George didn't really know how to answer and said, "Well uh, I really uh…" &lt;br /&gt;"Here's the thing. You know, we're growing out here for a reason," Fred continued, "not on our own really. I mean someone planted us."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, that's true," George acknowledged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And really, the reason is that human beings like to have fun. They're not just serious all the time," Fred explained.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," George responded, "I like that about them."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, we're going to get our chance to be expressions," Fred said.&lt;br /&gt;"Expressions?" George asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, y'know the way I'm showing you," Fred demonstrated. "Look, here's another."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow! I like that one," George exclaimed responding to Fred's dazzling display of a large toothy smile.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah. See," Fred continued, "so here's what you do. You go through all the expressions that you can think of, that you've seen human beings have and that we have for ourselves - right?"&lt;br /&gt;"Okay," George listened very interested now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And then," Fred continued, "you decide on what is your favorite expression."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes?" George responded.&lt;br /&gt;"That's right," Fred continued, "and when you've decided that you focus on that expression &lt;i&gt;very strongly&lt;/i&gt; but only when human beings are coming around to trim us off the stem - especially if they're youngsters see - they're coming around to trim us off the stem. They're going to take us home. They're going to put that expression onto our faces. They're going to light us up from the inside…"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How are they going to do that?" George interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, they use a candle or a flashlight or something," Fred explained patiently.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I see," George nodded with understanding.&lt;br /&gt;"And then, that expression that &lt;i&gt;we thought of&lt;/i&gt; that &lt;i&gt;we like&lt;/i&gt; - because &lt;b&gt;they'll&lt;/b&gt; feel it, they'll imagine it themselves - see - that's the expression they'll put on our faces," Fred said smiling happy with his explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, I like that," George responded, "I didn't know that was possible."&lt;br /&gt;"It is!" Fred said smiling in his usual enthusiastic way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How does that work?" George asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Well you know, it works best with young humans - the children because they can &lt;b&gt;feel&lt;/b&gt; what is around them. You know they're just like…," Fred paused until he thought of just the right word, "… like little antennas. They feel things around them and when they look at us, they just love us. Don't you remember the stories you heard before we came here - before we showed up from seeds to pumpkins? Don't you remember the stories?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes, y'know you kind of forget about that when you start growing here." George began to recall the old stories from when he was very young - just a seed really.&lt;br /&gt;"That's right," Fred continued, "and you know one of the main stories is that human beings, when they're little - they can feel things and they have so much love and they'll pick us and they'll literally hug us - the children see - and if they feel that expression they'll &lt;i&gt;describe&lt;/i&gt; what they're seeing on us and somebody else will do it for them - see? They'll put that expression onto us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gosh," said George, "I like that. I'm going to start practicing now."&lt;br /&gt;"That's good," Fred responded, "because Halloween's coming up soon and we don't have that much time."&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks for reminding me," George said gratefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're welcome," Fred responded getting into his favorite toothy smile expression and glancing around looking forward to a child coming to the pumpkin patch who would love that expression. I wonder if they smile like that?" Fred wondered to himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-1422795737762523477?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/1422795737762523477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=1422795737762523477&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/1422795737762523477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/1422795737762523477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2011/10/getting-ready.html' title='Getting Ready'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-9138056705757477335</id><published>2011-02-10T00:02:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T20:01:06.482-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>The Memory Box</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;And now it's time for me to present you with a little treat. Here's your new Valentine's Day story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Memory Box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The memories would flood in at this time of year. She remembered dimly, those sweet days when the heady aroma of chocolate and carmel and hazelnut and other marvelous treats were all around and about her. My, that was wonderful. She was all shiny and new painted in beautiful colors with flowers and angels and other decorations and she was with others like her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was that memory of being presented by someone who was thrilled and excited to someone else who was happy and felt loved. What a beautiful time that was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then being passed around occasionally but mostly being treasured and opened once in a while for the loved one to retrieve a treasured sweet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In time the sweets had all been consumed and her days became different. Then there were the letters - precious letters written by the special loved one to the one who was loved. And those letters and precious memories were there for her for such a long time that she grew used to being a vessel of love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a long quiet time in a larger box with other treasured memories and photographs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in recent days she'd been discovered again after a long time in the attic of the old home. The love letters were taken out, she hoped perhaps to be read again by someone but she had not been given the opportunity to contain them any longer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she had something new to do and it was fun and exciting. She had never had that experience. She was happily passed around from child to child. She was being used to contain a set of jacks and the ball that goes with it to play the time old appreciated game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She enjoyed this even though she was bumped and dropped occasionally - not on purpose. It's just that little hands didn't have the ability to always hold her well but their excitement and happiness more then made up for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she was set aside again with the set of jacks in the old toy chest and placed up in the attic once again and at this time of the year she would remember having held the marvelous sweets. Then having held the precious love letters and now holding Cindy's favorite toy - perhaps to be cherished again someday by her daughter or even her granddaughter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, sweets and happiness, precious memories, favorite toys. She smiled to herself in her own special way and felt blessed on Valentine's Day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-9138056705757477335?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/9138056705757477335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=9138056705757477335&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/9138056705757477335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/9138056705757477335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2011/02/memory-box.html' title='The Memory Box'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-7160226378408620428</id><published>2010-12-04T18:00:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T18:00:23.549-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holiday Story'/><title type='text'>Something New</title><content type='html'>Long ago when the Earth was green and lush there was a small village high up in the mountains and in the village there lived a very old man. He'd lived there all his life and he had a very long and complicated name that no one could remember. He couldn't remember it himself very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after a while people just started calling him Friend. He liked it. It was simple and uncomplicated and he was an uncomplicated person himself so he took the name on as his own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend was very unusual in his village. He had the ability to dream and whatever he dreamt came true but it didn't happen in the way he expected. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He couldn't ask for things to happen and have them happen in his dreams, he had tried. It just happened when it happened and always in every dream with people whose faces he had never seen before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept the dream experience to himself because he was worried about what people might think. And yet he treasured those dreams because he felt that something good always came out of it, for his dreams always had happy endings and frequently they were just as happy all the way through the dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always knew when he was going to have a dream like that because when he was very drowsy, just before he went to sleep he would get this big smile on his face and he knew just for a few seconds before he fell deeply asleep that he was going to have a dream that would come true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't always know where it came true but sometimes travelers would pass through the village and tell stories of happenings in other villages both near and far and he often heard that one of his dreams came true nearby or sometimes far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year Friend dreamt that little white bits of stuff were going to fall from the sky and cover the land - and the land had always been green of course - and then all the land would be covered and look white and everyone would be very happy. He woke up smiling and he thought, "What on earth can that be?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several months later a traveler that came through the village told the people a surprising story of these strange amazing little bits of stuff that fell out of the sky and was white and covered all the mountains and a village far, far away and there was a feeling with it. It was cold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cold", murmured some of the people. They asked each other, "What is that?" And none of the people knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The traveler said that it was very like the breezes that would come through the mountain passes and would sometimes cause the people to wrap light shawls around them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, oh yes," many of the people said, "We know now." For you see, the village was very high up but it was in a special place that never got very cold. It was always warm and comfortable except for those few breezy moments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to the story Friend thought to himself, "I would like to see this white stuff that falls out of the sky and is cold. I wonder if that could ever happen." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night as he was sinking deeper into sleep and started to smile, he had a dream of a high place in the mountains that was white and people wore heavy clothes but they looked very happy and cheerful. When he woke up he was smiling as always though there was something different about the faces of the people this time. This was the first time he could ever remember that he recognized the peoples faces. They were all people that he knew! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He couldn't see the buildings very well in the dream, he could never really remember that too well but all the faces that he saw of the people who were all bundled up in these heavy clothes - they were all people he knew in his own village and he wondered what that meant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time Friend knew he just had to tell someone about this so he decided to tell some of his best friends whose faces he remembered were in the dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, you know how it is with everyone. People like to know what's happening. So they told their friends and their friends told their friends and pretty soon everybody in the village knew about it and they all thought, "What fun, I wonder what that white is" and other questions like that. And everyone was excited that Friend could do this and no one thought he was strange or odd because he had dreams that came true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it was coming on towards November and people started noticing way up high on the tops of the mountains that white was appearing and they didn't know what that was and they asked Friend, "What is that? Does that look like the white you saw in your dream?" He said, "Yes, it looks very much like that." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it got further on through November the white covered all the mountain tops and was getting closer to the village and then even closer so by the time December started the white was almost at the village itself and several of the people climbed up the mountain a ways and discovered that the white was indeed cold and that it made everything glisten and sparkle and was so beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Towards the end of December at a time when the people celebrated many different holidays - such as Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa and special Sun and Moon days the white covered the whole village and made everything beautiful and because the people had time to see the white coming and knew it was cold they were able to make warm clothes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They dressed in their warmest clothes and went out and enjoyed the white and enjoyed the cold. They wanted to enjoy it because they had a feeling it wasn't going to last all year since it had just shown up in November. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people were grateful for the white and they said how grateful they were because it made everything look so beautiful and it was a nice change from the way things usually were. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thereafter in the years that followed right around November and December the white came and offered its unusual change of cold and beauty and the people were able to enjoy happy holidays and of course a white Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays to you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-7160226378408620428?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/7160226378408620428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=7160226378408620428&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7160226378408620428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7160226378408620428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2010/12/something-new.html' title='Something New'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-5978050427859782430</id><published>2009-12-18T19:33:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T19:41:43.921-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas Story'/><title type='text'>Looking and Hoping</title><content type='html'>"The world is a lonely place," she said sadly. "Why are you so lonely," he remarked. "It's Christmas and nobody wants me," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's not quite Christmas yet," he said. "Well it's almost Christmas," she said. "Well, it's true," he continued as he looked around, "... there's not many people here ... and you know, just the people that come to bring us some food. "Yes," she said, reviving a bit with gratitude, "and I do appreciate that very much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes, so do I," he said. "But it would be nice to have someplace - you know - like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;home&lt;/span&gt;," she continued with a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes," he said, "that would be wonderful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It would be kind of nice," she said shyly, "if ... if we could have a home together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes," he agreed, "I'd love that. I'm so glad you said it," he continued, "I've been feeling that way for such a long time. I ... I wasn't sure you did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes," she said, perking up a bit, "I felt that way for a long time." "Well, we can hope," he agreed, echoing her feelings with a cheerful twinkle in his eyes. He was so happy to know she felt that way too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day something happened to surprise them both. "Look at that. Who's that," she asked. "I don't know who that is. He's uh ... he's kind of tall isn't he," he replied. "Very tall," she answered and continued asking, "and ah who's that with him?" "I don't know who that is," he answered and added, "she's ah - she's not as tall." "No, not as tall," she agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh and look. There's ... there's two others. Are they with them," he asked. "I'm not sure. They ... they seem to be," she responded. "What ... what are they doing," he asked again. "They're looking around," she replied with growing curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. I wonder if they're going to come over here and ... oh look, look. Here they come," he said. "Oh. They're smiling. What do you think it means," he continued. "I don't know," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now they're pointing. What ... what does that mean. I've never understood what that means," he said feeling confused. "Well, it could be a good thing ... but it's not always good," she partly explained, "No, not always good," she continued thinking about her past experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh wait,wait! Is there something I can ... uh oh. They're going away. What is it all about? Did I ... do you think I said something? Did ... did I do something to offend them," she asked miserably. "No, no. You're okay. You didn't do anything," he said comforting her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now wait, wait. They're coming back. What's this all ... hey. Hey look. Wow! Look, look! Oh, they like us," she said. "Yes. They like us &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt;," he noticed happily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, this is good," she said with relief. "Maybe we &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; have a good Christmas," he said. "Maybe we will at that," she said with wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young family left the old building with the sign out front decorated merrily for the time of year. The sign read, Animal Shelter and Adoption Home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping out into the bright sunshine, father and mother, sister and brother walking down the front steps happily with their two adopted dogs. Everyone looked happy. Dogs too. Dogs like to have a happy Christmas as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodlife and happy holidays to you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-5978050427859782430?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/5978050427859782430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=5978050427859782430&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5978050427859782430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5978050427859782430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2009/12/looking-and-hoping.html' title='Looking and Hoping'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-8556436925477320376</id><published>2009-10-25T19:30:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T19:34:53.167-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Posting Changes'/><title type='text'>Changes In How I Post</title><content type='html'>For a long time now I've been sharing the wisdom I have with you in print here on these blogs and even stories on the &lt;a href="http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/"&gt;stories blog&lt;/a&gt; but now I find as I get older I'm going to have to do this in a way that's easier for me and doesn't tire me out quite so much eh :-) so I'm going to shift over completely to video which I've been planing for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll still see video on &lt;a href="http://explorerrace.blogspot.com/"&gt;Explorer Race&lt;/a&gt; as you have been so that won't change very much and you'll still see that also on my &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/BenevolentMagic"&gt;You Tube BenevolentMagic&lt;/a&gt; site so that won't change either but as far as all the transcribed material, that which I have written and posted through the usual process but instead of thinking and typing I've recorded it and transcribed it and posted just in case you're interested, that's all got to stop now because it's too much for one person to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I'm just letting you know. Feel free to consult with these blogs. I may still post, from time to time a video on these blogs here or there so you can watch for that but I'm afraid you're going to have to say goodbye to the print version. Maybe you won't miss it that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I put up video these days it will mostly be Grandfather channeling through me but who knows...maybe there will be other things too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed interacting with all of you and it's not totally goodbye but it will be different. So, just to let you know. I love you all. Goodnight and goodlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-8556436925477320376?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/8556436925477320376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=8556436925477320376&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/8556436925477320376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/8556436925477320376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2009/10/changes-in-how-i-post.html' title='Changes In How I Post'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-2134701060275153490</id><published>2008-12-16T02:50:00.003-10:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T03:41:44.072-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas Story'/><title type='text'>Decorations</title><content type='html'>"Grandpa?" "Yes Honey." "You said we were gonna decorate the tree different this year. What did you mean by that," said Lucinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", Grandpa said, "I feel we need to decorate the tree with our intentions for this coming year." "What?" said Lucinda who was about seven years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa said, "Let me show you the decorations." He pulled out the beautiful glass globes on which one side was flattened and there were tags on some of the globes. The ones that were labeled each had one word on them. They read - honor, respect, appreciation, kindness, benevolence, generosity and understanding. There were also some that were blank but there were tags on there - just nothing written on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucinda said, "Grandpa, what about these? The ones that don't have anything written on them." "Well I wanted you..." said Grandpa, "...to decide what you would put on them yourself." "Ohhh," said Lucinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me set you up at your desk." Lucinda's Grandfather had a little desk set up not unlike you might find at a school. Lucinda got comfortable at her desk and her Grandfather put the decorations in front of her with a selection of crayons so that she could write on them or if she wasn't sure how to spell the word she would say the words or feelings and Grandpa would write them on. Lucinda decided that she'd rather have Grandpa write the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," she said, "I feel it's important this year for people to be patient with each other because there's been a lot of changes going on and I've noticed that it's really hard especially for older people..." she glanced up shyly at her Grandfather and then quickly back down again "...to um change easily. So I think - patience would be a good one. Could you write that for me Grandpa?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa said, "Oh yes, I'll write that down. What color do you want me to use?" She said, "I think yellow would be a good color." "Oh yes I agree. Very good color," Grandpa said. And Grandpa wrote patience on one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And I've also noticed..." Lucinda continued slowly, "...that a lot of people including my friends families when I go over to their houses...when their moms or dads say, 'I love you dear' it's kinda quick and well...my friends told me that they don't really &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; anything there and their mom and dad doesn't always pick them up or hug them as much as they used to. So I think - hugs would be another good one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh that's very good. What color should we write it in," Grandpa said. "I can write that myself,"said Lucinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She picked a brightly colored orange crayon and she very carefully wrote - hugs. You could read it pretty good because she was a good writer. "Very good," Grandpa said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's another empty one Grandpa. Could I..." Grandpa said, "Oh yes that's another one for you. What do you want to write in there this time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucinda thought for a while and then she said, "Grandpa I feel that there's so many people in the world and they don't always hear each other even though people are talking all the time aren't they Grandpa?" "Oh yes, they certainly are," replied Grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucinda went on, "I think maybe people are talking so much they don't always &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;listen&lt;/span&gt; and try and understand." "Yes, that could be," said Grandpa. "So maybe we ought to include - listen," Lucinda said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's very good," said Grandpa, "I'll write that in or would you like to write it in?" Lucinda said, "Can you write that in Grandpa?" Grandpa said, "What color crayon should I use?" "Well...how about green," said Lucinda. "Oh what a wonderful choice," Grandpa said. He wrote in very carefully - listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's another one. Can we write that in too Grandpa," Lucinda said. Grandpa quickly replied, "Oh yes, lets."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I feel there's one more thing that people have to do besides hugging in families more and listening to people..." Lucinda said. "And what's that," said Grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well...I feel that people don't always say what they mean because they don't know &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;how&lt;/span&gt; to say things - and I don't just mean kids like me," said Lucinda. "No?" said Grandpa, "What do you mean honey?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucinda said, "I think that sometimes when grown-ups talk to each other they're sometimes &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;shy&lt;/span&gt;. They don't know how to say things and so sometimes they either don't say things or they don't say what they mean. Do you understand Grandpa?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes." Grandpa said pausing to think about it for a while and considering whether he might do that sometimes himself when he was shy and didn't want to really say what he wanted or needed. "What a wise little one,"Grandpa thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there enough room to write in something longer Grandpa?" "Well we might have to use a colored pencil for that so we can write a little smaller," Grandpa said reaching for the box of colored pencils. " "Well...I think it would be good to say - be honest and be clear," said Lucinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my, that makes a lot of sense,"Grandpa said. "What colored pencil would you like?" "Well," Lucinda said, "lets use pink." "Oh my, that's very nice," Grandpa said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Would you write that in Grandpa," Lucinda asked. "Oh yes I will," Grandpa replied. Grandpa wrote that in slowly and carefully so it could be read easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And there's one more I'm thinking of Grandpa but lets make a game out of it." "Oh good," Grandpa said. "Well lets see, what's the first letter," Grandpa said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, the first letter is - L." "Mmmm," said Grandpa with a studious look on his face, "I wonder what it could be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucinda laughed and said, "It has four letters." "Oh my, I wonder &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what that could be&lt;/span&gt;? I'm completely stumped," Grandpa said knowing full well what the word was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The last letter is - e," said Lucinda happily. "My, my. I just can't figure it out," Grandpa said enjoying the game. "Oh Grandpa," Lucinda said, "you know it's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She reached towards her Grandpa. He picked her up carefully from her desk and gave her a big hug and said, "Honey, love is what our family is all about." They hugged each other and looked at the tree and got ready to hang all the decorations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What decorations will you put on your tree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-2134701060275153490?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/2134701060275153490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=2134701060275153490&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/2134701060275153490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/2134701060275153490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2008/12/decorations.html' title='Decorations'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-5256837063773364114</id><published>2008-10-18T14:30:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T14:41:11.424-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween Story'/><title type='text'>Imagination Village</title><content type='html'>There's a village deep within the deepest tap root of the most gigantic tree, which is now a spirit I might add because the tree has moved on in life. The people in that village once worked with another being who is famous for the spirit of and gift giving of that time at the end of the year - I think you know who that is eh but these beings in that village are fond of creating something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They create costumes for they do love make-believe. They create the most fabulous costumes that help children the world over perform as they go about on Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They like to display nature - some of the costumes are like plants, some of course like trees, some look like butterflies, others like dinosaurs but a great many of them look like the tiniest little particles that you have to see by looking through a microscope like you do at school and other places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason the people of this village like to make up costumes like that is that those tiny little particles all come together to make all the big things we see all around us and they even come together to make up us. So those people of that village feel very good about tiny little things, of course they're pretty tiny themselves so naturally they feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also feel very good about bigger things, that's why they choose to live in the tap root of that giant tree - and they feel good about things that are in-between that size like you and me and dog and cat and other things about our size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see no matter who we are, where we're from, why we're here or what we're doing we're made up of the same very tiny little things and it's good to know isn't it that we have so much in common and that we have beings that care about us so much that they devote themselves to nothing but demonstrating the values of the smallest parts of us while honoring us as we look in our world made up of so many things. Goodlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-5256837063773364114?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/5256837063773364114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=5256837063773364114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5256837063773364114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5256837063773364114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2008/10/imagination-village.html' title='Imagination Village'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-7651162144966899336</id><published>2008-07-31T15:07:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T15:17:21.753-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bottle Cap</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time a very long time ago there was a mouse who lived in a very small house indeed. The house in fact was so small that the mouse had barely room to turn around and every time mousy would turn around he'd bump his tail and after a while his tail got to feeling kind of poor and he needed to find a bigger house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     So one day when he was out exploring he did find a bigger house but there was already somebody else living in it. Fortunately she was a friendly little mouse and he appreciated that very much. So he thought perhaps he ought to go home and gather up one of his most precious objects and offer it to her and ask if he could perhaps take a room in her bigger house - and so he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     He gathered up a very shiny bottle cap that he had discovered somewhere and that he had been using to protect his back by putting it on the wall in just the right place so that when he turned, his back would rub against it and it wouldn't hurt but he didn't have anything to protect his tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     So he brought the shiny bottle cap over and he presented it to her as a gift. She was very pleased and impressed and she said that she would allow him to stay in her spare room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Well he was so pleased he rushed right home, gathered up all his possessions - and there weren't very many of course because his house was so small, and he rushed back to her house and moved into the spare room. It was so big he didn't have to worry at all about bumping his tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     And do you know - they got to be friends and after a while they became Mr. and Mrs. Mouse and after a while they had little meeces and after a while they lived happily ever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     It just goes to show that sometimes the littlest things, even a nice old shiny bottle cap, can make for happiness in the long run.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-7651162144966899336?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/7651162144966899336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=7651162144966899336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7651162144966899336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7651162144966899336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2008/07/bottle-cap.html' title='The Bottle Cap'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-7770392929465914123</id><published>2008-05-05T06:29:00.003-10:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T06:41:30.086-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Coconut by Robert Shapiro</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a very small coconut and it was hanging in a palm tree very high up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    It had dreams though - even though the other coconuts were much much bigger and would fall regularly to the sand below where they'd be picked up by passers by or others who were just fascinated with the shapes and the weight of those huge coconuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The little coconut had dreams though. It figured, I'm so small I must be this small for a reason. The other coconuts are all regular size or even big - much bigger than regular. Why am I so little?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Well the years went by and little coconut stayed just as small as ever and little coconut began to think, perhaps there's something different for me to do. Maybe &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I could fly&lt;/span&gt; or maybe I'm intended to do something different!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Little coconut would feel and look around, they can see in their own way you know, and up and down and just always admired the clouds in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    One day a very large bird landed in the tree and couldn't quite figure out how to make a nest in the palm tree but it moved around and moved around and it kept trying to get comfortable and little coconut said, "What are you trying to do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The giant bird said, "Oh, I didn't know you could talk." "Oh yes I can. I've been here &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a long time&lt;/span&gt;. I'm kind of wanting to have a friend too," said little coconut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The giant bird said, "Oh well, I'll be your friend. What would you like to talk about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Little coconut went on to explain how she'd been there in that tree all that time and she was trying to figure out what she was supposed to do because all of the other coconuts would get bigger and bigger and bigger and fall off the tree but she's been there and she's just as small as ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Little coconut shyly said, "Maybe I'm supposed to fly - you know, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not fall down&lt;/span&gt; but go some other direction."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Giant bird looked at little coconut and said, "Well maybe it's true. You are very small. Maybe I could just..." and the giant bird leaned over because it was so big, just leaned over and plucked little coconut off the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Little coconut was very excited and the bird managed to get little coconut up around its back and said, "Now lets go for a flight." Up and away they went with the little coconut hanging on for dear life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    They went up very high in the sky and the bird was just floating on the breezes and little coconut knew what it was supposed to do. Little coconut realized it was supposed to be a Coconaut and decided - this is my calling in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Some people say to this day, since that happened a very long time ago, that that's where the whole idea of Astronauts and Cosmonauts came from - all from that little Coconaut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Big things and good things very often come from very little things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Goodlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-7770392929465914123?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/7770392929465914123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=7770392929465914123&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7770392929465914123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/7770392929465914123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2008/05/little-coconut-by-robert-shapiro.html' title='The Little Coconut by Robert Shapiro'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-5338073023992732978</id><published>2007-12-13T23:49:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T00:26:33.229-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas Story'/><title type='text'>The Gift Of Love by Robert Shapiro</title><content type='html'>Jeff hunkered down in his chair. He didn't know what he was going to buy his girlfriend for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   They'd been out shopping the day before looking for presents for some of their friends and she kept running up to the store windows one after another to admire different things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   He was totally confused. She liked this, she liked that. Oh, what to get her - and he was on a budget. He didn't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Margie came into the room just then. She smiled at Jeff and said, "I have some nice tea ready for us. Would you like to..." "Oh yes," he said. They sat down and had tea and enjoyed their time together and talk and then he had to go off to work. She worked a different shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   When he went home that night he wasn't sure what to get for her and it was already Christmas Eve. Oh they had a nice tree set up at her house and there was lots of presents around it but he still didn't know what to get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   He went out shopping to the mall where the stores were still open - thank heavens. He walked around from place to place, from window to window that showed various things that she had run up to and said how wonderful they were and it would be wonderful if they could get those things for this friend or that friend but he thought maybe she wanted them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Finally he sat down on a stone bench they had there for their customers. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there and suddenly he noticed that there was an old man sitting on the other end of the bench. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed him before, he just didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The old man looked at him and said, "Trying to find the perfect gift aren't you." Jeff said, "Yes!" And the old man said, "I know that one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Jeff said, "Did you have something in mind?" "Oh yes," said the old man. And Jeff slid over a little bit closer to him because the old man's voice was kind of quiet and it was noisy in the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "What kind of gift did you have in mind," Jeff said hoping to get some idea for a last minute present. "You know," the old man said, "I was married for sixty years and my wife just recently passed away and I come down to this mall because we used to like to come here in the summertime when it was hot and it's all nice and cool in here, you know, in the summertime."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Jeff nodded. The old man went on to say, "My wife told me once - and I never forgot it - that the best gift I'd ever given her through our entire time together was a card when I'd been inspired, I don't know where the inspiration came from..." he said, "...but I was inspired to write this poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "It wasn't perfect. It didn't rhyme in all the right places but it felt like a poem and in that poem I told her exactly how I felt about her. How I loved the way she brushed her hair back in the evening and the way she'd wink at me sometimes when we were both brushing our teeth in the morning and just the little things that made me enjoy her so much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "And what else did you give her," Jeff said. "No, that was it," said the old man, "I gave her that card - and just felt like giving it to her one day. It wasn't Christmas or any holiday. I just felt it and wrote it down and gave her the card."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "And that was her favorite gift?" Jeff said. "Oh yes," said the old man, "she said that was the best thing I'd ever given her and she treasured it. And you know, when she told me that - I'd given her that card maybe twenty, twenty five years before - she pulled it out of a drawer and it was kind of dog-eared and worn. I could tell that she'd looked at it many times. There it was - just the way I'd written it. It made me smile. She was such a special person."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Oh," said Jeff, "I'm sorry. She sounds wonderful." "Yes, she's passed away now for the past couple years," the old man said. "Oh my, I'm so sorry," Jeff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Well," the old man said, "I come down to the mall and see the young faces and the married couples with their children - and it's a wonderful holiday for children isn't it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Yes, I suppose it is," Jeff said. "You know," the old man said, "if you've got somebody special you might think about just writing a card - just a simple card, it doesn't have to be anything fancy. The one I gave my wife wasn't the least bit fancy, and write in there even if you don't do a poem - just write in there exactly how you feel about her. Write about the good things and the small things that you enjoy that just make your heart sing. You know what I mean," said the old man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "I think I do," Jeff said. "You have time. I know it's Christmas Eve but I'll bet you can think of quite a few things you love about her," said the old man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Oh yes," Jeff said, "I just love the way she wears this hat. She always cocks it at a funny angle and it just makes me smile and laugh and I just love her so much when I see that." "Well," said the old man, "that's a good start. Maybe you've got some of the poet in you yet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Jeff scurried out of the mall. He made a quick stop at the all night drugstore on the way home and found just the right card for her. He just knew she'd love it. By the time he got home he knew everything he was going to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Well, I don't have to finish the story for you do I. The next day with all the presents that were opened up, Margie opened up that card and the tears just ran down her face - tears of joy. No one had ever said those kind of wonderful things to her before and Jeff knew by the look in her eyes when she looked at him that it was just possible that they'd be married for sixty years too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Merry Christmas everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-5338073023992732978?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/5338073023992732978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=5338073023992732978&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5338073023992732978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/5338073023992732978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2007/12/gift-of-love.html' title='The Gift Of Love by Robert Shapiro'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-953648938477287127</id><published>2007-02-12T17:26:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T19:40:14.567-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>Once upon a very long time ago we were all part of the same egg - I recall it clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I heard a voice during that time say, "But what else is there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     There was a long low vibration and the vibration seemed to be answering, "I don't understand" and the little voice said, "Isn't there something else beyond the egg?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     The rest that had answered said, "We don't know" and the little voice said, "I'm going to go and find out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Well that was a long time ago and you know what I've been feeling ever since is that there is a re-gathering and the re-gathering is taking place very comfortably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I believe what's happened is that we now have the full dozen eggs but we still have not returned to the overall egg. Perhaps that's what's going to happen next. I'll look forward to that and I'll look forward to being with you all in that most beautiful place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Happy Valentine's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Goodlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-953648938477287127?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/953648938477287127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=953648938477287127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/953648938477287127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/953648938477287127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2007/02/happy-valentines-day.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-1764035615377094816</id><published>2006-12-04T15:27:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T15:44:41.041-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas Story'/><title type='text'>The Special Stocking by Robert Shapiro and Eileen Meyer</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a stocking. It lived, at least once - sometimes twice a week, on a little girl's foot. Of course there was another matching stocking too but this one particular stocking had a definite sense of personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The little girl, whose name was Mindy, noticed it too. When she had that stocking on her right foot she felt like she could dance for hours; she could jump, and she could do so many more amazing things. Even though the stocking on her left foot looked exactly the same, Mindy didn't get that feeling from it. She always wondered what that was about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  One day the stocking seemed to want to lead Mindy someplace and even though she couldn't understand it, she decided she would go anyway. She wasn't really sure whether it would be alright, so she took her big sister Karen with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Now Karen knew that her little sister Mindy was very bright and very imaginative so she walked along with her and didn't press Mindy with any unnecessary questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mindy kept walking decidedly in the direction where her stocking wanted to go. She turned a corner and stopped. She paused for a moment. Then she walked forward again, turned another corner, and then stopped again. Then she turned and faced toward one particular house and said quite assuredly, "It's in there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Karen said, "Gosh, I don't know who lives in there. Do you know who lives in there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mindy said, "No, I have no idea who lives in there but it seems like a cheerful house. It's all decorated very brightly for Christmas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Karen agreed, "Yes, it's quite merry looking!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mindy motioned with her eyes and said, "Since you're with me - maybe it would be okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Yes, we'll just go up and ring the doorbell and see who answers," said Karen, who by this time had grown quite curious too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  They rang the doorbell and a nice old lady answered the door and smiled warmly, "Hello children." Then she looked down at Mindy's stockings and said, "Oh, I see. You're wearing the Christmas stocking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You notice she didn't say Christmas &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stockings&lt;/span&gt; - plural. Mindy responded quizzically, "Is that what it is... a Christmas stocking?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Oh yes," said the older lady. "I'd know that Christmas stocking anywhere. Where did you get it?" the older lady asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mindy said, "Well, my Mom got it at the Goodwill store for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "That's where it went," the older lady seemed relieved at having solved her mystery, but Mindy and Karen were growing even more curious. "Come in, why don't you children?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The children hesitated because this was somebody they didn't know. "It's alright," she said, "we'll leave the front door open. My name is Mrs. Henderson, but most of the kids call me 'Grandma Henderson' in this neighborhood. C'mon in!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Okay," the children said, feeling very safe and welcome. Right away inside they spotted Mrs. Henderson's beautifully decorated Christmas tree, and there behind the Christmas tree was a row of stockings hung on the mantle. But there was something funny about this row of Christmas stockings. They were all neatly hung, looking so perfectly aligned, and then... there was a blank spot. Something was missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Mindy had to know, "Mrs..., I mean... Grandma Henderson, what goes in that space?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Why, the Christmas stocking of course!" Mrs. Henderson replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Oh," Mindy said, cautiously pointing to her right foot, "Do you mean this stocking? ...because, well, it makes me so happy and I... I feel so good when I'm wearing it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mrs. Henderson smiled knowingly, "I do understand, dear, and this is what I'd like to do. It's up to you of course, but I think it would be nice if we could hang it up there just on Christmas Eve. Do you know why?" she asked enthusiastically, "Because that stocking is a magical stocking." Mrs. Henderson's eyes were happy and wide, "Do you know that stocking on your right foot helps to bring all the presents and treats to little boys and little girls all over the world just by hanging over there in that spot on that mantle? That's why it's always so happy and so peppy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       Mindy was beginning to feel like her mystery was solved too, "Ohhhh, I see. I guess that would be alright."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Oh, good!" Mrs. Henderson beamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And the next day, after having washed and dried her socks, Mindy went over to Mrs. Henderson's house - this time with her Mom because her big sister Karen had to attend Christmas play practice. Mindy and her mom knocked on the door where Mrs. Henderson happily greeted them and invited them in. Other children from the neighborhood had gathered there to participate in the annual event too. Mindy's mom watched proudly as Grandma Henderson and Mindy carefully hung up the Christmas stocking in its proper place. And soon it was as if the whole house changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  There was a sense of merriment and joy and happiness that no one had really noticed before. Oh, it had been beautifully decorated before, but now there was a very real feeling of magic, excitement and anticipation that filled the air and filled everyone there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mindy still felt curious, "Was this your stocking, Grandma Henderson?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Yes," she replied, "My friend was here cleaning up a while back and she didn't realize that it was a very special stocking. She took it to the Goodwill with a bunch of other things that I had that I wanted to share with other people. The children of the neighborhood have been very sad indeed. They look forward to helping me decorate and hang the special stocking every year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Oh," said Mindy thoughtfully, "so maybe I'm not really supposed to have the stocking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Oh no," Mrs. Henderson was very clear, "I think it's fine that you have the stocking now. And do you know, it'll never wear out? It's very special and very strong, and the matching stocking that comes with it is also very strong. I think you're the perfect person to have it, because some day... you know I'm getting older, and some day... you could become the person that hangs up the Christmas stocking every year so that all the little boys and girls all over the world will have all the presents and treats they want in their stockings." The children clapped and cheered because they agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Do you think I really could?" Mindy asked timidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Oh yes, not only do I think you could, I think you're perfect for it!" said Mrs. Henderson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     As it turned out, from that day forward, Mindy went over on Christmas Eve to join the other children at Grandma Henderson's house where they would all hang up the stocking and celebrate another wonderful season of giving and good cheer. Until one day when Mrs. Henderson's house was sold because her family invited her to live with them in another small town a few hours away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So now every Christmas, Mindy and her family invite all the children in the neighborhood over to hang the special Christmas stocking on Christmas Eve. This is so that all the little boys and girls all over the world will have all the presents and treats they want. And some day she's going to pass it on to another little girl. Maybe that will be you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-1764035615377094816?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/1764035615377094816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=1764035615377094816&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/1764035615377094816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/1764035615377094816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2006/12/special-stocking-by-robert-shapiro-and.html' title='The Special Stocking by Robert Shapiro and Eileen Meyer'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-113533797170865102</id><published>2005-12-23T01:38:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T05:05:47.416-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Friends</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a very large bear. He was so large that he found it difficult to fit in with the rest of the bears in his part of the neighborhood. Granted, his neighborhood was fairly large since he was living at the North pole but he was so big that he found it difficult to fit in. The other bears had friends and family and many of his buddies that he grew up with had girlfriend bears and he was very lonely. &lt;br /&gt;     One day when he was walking around wishing he had at least a best friend he walked around a big block of ice and just as he got on the other side he saw a very small penguin. The penguin looked up and was very startled and didn't know which way to run but the bear, who was feeling very lonely indeed, just sat down and stared at the penguin. He just wanted the penguin to know that he wasn't going to hurt him and he wasn't particularly hungry or anything and bears don't really like to eat penguins anyway. So he just sat down and looked at the penguin with a sorrowful look in his eyes. &lt;br /&gt;     The penguin noticed that there was something wrong with the bear and he tentatively stepped forward and got a little closer and said, "Are...are you alright?" &lt;br /&gt;     Bear said, "I'm so lonely." And penguin said, "Oh I know what you mean! Look at me," penguin said, "I'm so little!" Bear seemed to notice penguin for the first time and said, "You are unusually small. I've seen a lot of penguins in my time and I just thought you were a young one but you're all grown up - I can tell." &lt;br /&gt;     "Yes" penguin said, "I'm all grown up but I'm so small that no one really wants to be with me. They all think that I'm strange. Do you know what I mean?" &lt;br /&gt;     "Oh yes!" said bear, "It's just the way for me. I'm so big that none of my friends that I grew up with wants to be with me either." &lt;br /&gt;     "Ohhhh," said penguin and he sat down and they sat there very mournfully for a long time looking at each other with sad eyes until all of a sudden almost at the same time they both got an idea. Bear was the first to say it, "Say," he said, "Do you know what?" And penguin said, "I think I do!" &lt;br /&gt;     "Yes" bear said, "We could be friends! I mean, I'm awfully big but..." Before he had a chance to say anything penguin said, "And I'm so small but..." And they both said it at the same time, "We could be best friends!" &lt;br /&gt;     They smiled at each other and for the first time in their lives even though they were both very different from each other and very different from their own people they realized that they had a chance to have a best friend and they remained best friends for the rest of their lives even though penguin did eventually find someone that wanted to be with him and bear eventually found someone who wanted to be with him, they always lived near each other so that they could talk to each other and be around each other all the time and they were best friends. &lt;br /&gt;     Bear was Uncle Bear to penguins children and penguin was Uncle Penguin to bears children. It just goes to show that no matter how big you are or how small you are, no matter how different you are, no matter how unusual you are, there's always a best friend waiting for you right around the next corner. Sometimes you just have to look. &lt;br /&gt;     Goodlife to you all and have a very merry holiday season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-113533797170865102?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/113533797170865102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=113533797170865102&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113533797170865102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113533797170865102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2005/12/finding-friends.html' title='Finding Friends'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-113518913108008172</id><published>2005-12-21T08:15:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T05:05:46.941-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Charlie The Christmas Tree</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a Christmas tree named Charlie. Now I know, you're going to tell me that Christmas trees don't have names but Charlie was different. You see, he grew near a path where the children walked to get to a trail that led to one of their favorite places. They loved this spot because there was an old rope that hung from a tree and they could swing on the rope back and forth and back and forth and they had a lot of fun doing that. Charlie grew right next to that path and when the children would go by him to swing on the rope they were happy and laughing. So he decided, hearing all their names as they came and went, that he would call himself Charlie since he was happy too.&lt;br /&gt;One day it got towards Christmas time again, and Charlie always looked forward to Christmas time because he knew he and the other trees would be covered with snow and they  would be happy and beautiful. In the distance he could see houses all decorated with lights that would look so nice.  Sometimes someone would come by and throw a little tinsel on Charlie and he'd feel real nice about that and perk right up. He loved Christmas just like the children did who passed him by on the path. This year Charlie decided he wanted to do something different. He wasn't sure what it was but he just knew he wanted to do something different.&lt;br /&gt;Most people were going to the lot to buy their Christmas trees but there were still a few people who went out to the woods to cut one down. Some of those people came over and stood by Charlie. There were two children with their Mother and Father. The Father said, "How about this one?" Both the youngsters spoke up right away, "No, no, no. We walk by that tree all the time when we go to the place where we swing on the rope." "Oh yes, I know that place", Dad said, "that's a favorite spot of yours. I remember doing something like that around here when I was your age."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, yes", their Mother said, "seems there's always been a rope up there for the children to swing on. It's been replaced a few times. Yes, you're right, we can't disturb this tree." "Maybe we ought to decorate it this year", said one of the children whose name was Millie. Millie's brother Timmy said, "Yes, can we?" "What about the tree we're going to have at home", said his Mother."Well sure, we can do that but wouldn't it be fun to decorate this tree too?", said Millie.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, sure - why not. Come on, we'll go to the lot like usual. We'll buy a tree there instead of cutting this one down. How about that," said Dad. Everyone agreed and as they went on down the trail their voices faded away.&lt;br /&gt;Charlie leaned over to his friend next to him - "How about that! See - the children looked out for me and they're going to decorate me." His friend said, "Oh, people - you can't be sure about them." "No, no", Charlie said, "I know they'll be back." Sure enough, about two or three days later he saw Millie and Timmy headed towards him and right behind them was their Mother and Father.&lt;br /&gt;Where the snow wasn't covering Charlie they put on tinsel and bows and a star right on the very top of him. Then they stood back and smiled. The sun was shining and glittering off the snow and tinsel and Millie said, "Oh it's so pretty. I bet all the other kids are going to love it." " Maybe", said her Mother," this will  become a tradition and every year people will decorate this tree and then when they walk by they'll smile."  What a wonderful idea Charlie thought to himself. I'd like that. The children admired the decorations for a while and took pictures standing in front of Charlie. "Oh boy!" they said  and as they went home their voices trailed off. Charlie leaned over to his friend. "Ah hah", Charlie said, "how about that?" "Yes", his friend said, "you were right. I guess there's hope for  people after all."&lt;br /&gt;Well the years went by and every year Timmy and Millie or some of the other neighborhood children would come by and they'd reach up as high as they could on Charlie and they'd re-decorate him every Christmas. Pretty soon Charlie was so big and so tall that they couldn't reach that high up and no one had any chance of putting a star on the top of Charlie so they just did as much as they could and everyone liked and admired what was done. Every once in a while someone would throw tinsel way up high and it would stay there year round, sparkling in the sunshine and catching a little ray of light when the moon was out. Charlie would enjoy it and appreciate the added beauty to himself.&lt;br /&gt;Well the years went by and the children grew up and had children of their own and their children grew up and had children of their own. Charlie started feeling kind of old and tired and was about ready to drop some seeds the way pine trees do in the form of pine cones to become new young trees. Before he did that he said to his seedlings, "Now I just want you to know that sometimes people can be kind of a problem for trees but other times they'll come along and surprise you and do wonderful things. They'll appreciate your beauty and maybe even add to it. It just goes to show, people and trees can be friends after all." Then he let go of his seeds and they rolled this way and that way and they looked forward to making friends with other trees and becoming friends with people someday too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          Goodlife and Happy Holidays everyone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-113518913108008172?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/113518913108008172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=113518913108008172&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113518913108008172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113518913108008172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2005/12/charlie-christmas-tree.html' title='Charlie The Christmas Tree'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20020108.post-113504951417666777</id><published>2005-12-19T17:29:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T05:05:46.626-10:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Gift For You</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a happy holiday. The happy holiday was lonely&lt;br /&gt;because it didn't have a day to celebrate. Oh it was happy alright but it&lt;br /&gt;didn't know what it was happy about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It decided to ask its best friend what it could do about that. Now its best&lt;br /&gt;friend was Mary Christmas and Mary said "we have to put our heads together&lt;br /&gt;about this. I know what", Mary said, "we'll invent a holiday for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What will we call it", Happy said. "We'll call it twosday",she replyed. "Oh&lt;br /&gt;that's wonderfull", Happy said, "what is it celebrating?" "It's celebrating&lt;br /&gt;the number two",said Mary. "Oh", said Happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well for many years everyone celebrated Twosday and Happy was very happy.&lt;br /&gt;But you know how it is, over time people forgot what the holiday was about&lt;br /&gt;even though they celebrated it all over the world. One day Happy said to&lt;br /&gt;Mary,"I think people have forgotten what Twosday is all about even though&lt;br /&gt;they seem to be having fun. Do you think we ought to do anything to remind&lt;br /&gt;them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", Mary said, "I'll have to think about that." And so she did. "I have&lt;br /&gt;it", she said, "why don't we commemorate Twosday with a special dedication&lt;br /&gt;and a re-christening. We'll change the spelling to Tuesday and then if&lt;br /&gt;people don't remember that it's a celebration of the number two, you won't&lt;br /&gt;feel so bad about it since it's mispeled anyway." "Oh I feel much better&lt;br /&gt;about that", Happy said, "now I don't have to feel nervous that people have&lt;br /&gt;forgotten what my holiday is all about." "Good", said Mary, "and to support&lt;br /&gt;you I'll change my name too. I'll call myself Merry Christmas". And they&lt;br /&gt;both smiled and were happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you know how things are. People forget things over time and even though&lt;br /&gt;we still have Tuesday nobody really remembers what it celebrates but&lt;br /&gt;everyone remembers Merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        Happy Holidays!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20020108-113504951417666777?l=nicelittlestories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/feeds/113504951417666777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20020108&amp;postID=113504951417666777&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113504951417666777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20020108/posts/default/113504951417666777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nicelittlestories.blogspot.com/2005/12/little-gift-for-you.html' title='A Little Gift For You'/><author><name>Robert Shapiro</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101684123468266008752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sjT42Vk05Zw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/M_C_iZUsARU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
