Holidays http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl? http://www.eblah.com en Merry Christmas http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1261416867/ http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1261416867/#num1 Merry Christmas Everyone!

Hope all of you have a Merry Christmas!!--

]]> Mon, 21 Dec 2009 10:34:27 EastCoastMama Happy Saint Patrick's Day http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1236279856/ http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1236279856/#num1 Happy Saint Patrick's Day




Irish Blessings and Sayings
May you always have
Walls for the winds,
A roof for the rain,
Tea beside the fire,
Laughter to cheer you,
Those you love near you,
And all your heart might desire!

May you be in
Heaven a half hour before the
Devil knows you're dead!

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Tis like a morn in spring.
With a lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing
When Irish hearts are happy
All the world is bright and gay
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure, they steal your heart away.

May your blessings outnumber
The shamrocks that grow,
And may trouble avoid you
Wherever you go.

May the best day of your past
Be the worst day of your future.

I'm looking over a four leaf clover
That I overlooked before
One leaf is sunshine, the second is rain,
Third is the roses that grow in the lane.
No need explaining the one remaining
Is somebody I adore.
I'm looking over a four leaf clover
That I overlooked before.

May you live to be a hundred years
With one extra year to repent.

May those who love us, love us
And those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts
And if he can't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles
So we will know them by their limping!

As you slide down the banister of life,
May the splinters never point in the wrong direction!

May luck be our companion
May friends stand by our side
May history remind us all
Of Ireland's faith and pride.
May God bless us with happiness
May love and faith abide.

Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter
Lullabies, dreams, and love ever after.
Poems and songs with pipes and drums
A thousand welcomes when anyone comes.
That's the Irish for you!

There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.

May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And Heaven accept you.

May you have:
A world of wishes at your command
God and his angels close at hand
Friends and family their love impart,
And Irish blessings in you heart.

May God grant you many years to live,
For sure he must be knowing
The earth has angels all to few
And Heaven is overflowing.

These things I warmly wish to you-
Someone to love
Some work to do
A bit o' sun
A bit o' cheer
And a guardian angel always near.

Here's to a long life and a merry one
A quick death and an easy one
A pretty girl and an honest one
A cold beer and another one!

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light,
May good luck pursue you each morning and night,

O Ireland isn't it grand you look
like a bride in her rich adornin?
And with all the pent up love of my heart
I bid you the top o' the mornin!


May the lilt of lush laughter lighten ever road,
May the midst of Irish magic shorten every road.
May you taste the sweetest pleasures
that fortune ever bestowed,
And may all your friends remember
all the favors you are owed.

Go mbeannai Dia duit
(May God Bless You)

May your home always be too small to hold all your friends.
God is good, but never dance in a small boat.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

If you're enough lucky to be Irish...
You're lucky enough!My wild Irish rose
The sweetest flower that grows
You may search everywhere
But none can compare to my wild Irish rose
My wild Irish rose
The sweetest flower that grows
Someday for my sake she may let me take
A bloom from my wild Irish rose

'Tis better to buy a small bouquet
And give to your friend this very day,
Than a bushel of roses white and red
To lay on his coffin after he's dead.

For each petal on the shamrock
This brings a wish your way-
Good health, good luck, and happiness
For today and every day.

Dance as if no one were watching,
Sing as if no one were listening,
And live every day as if it were your last.


]]> Thu, 5 Mar 2009 12:04:16 EastCoastMama Martin Luther King, Jr's Birthday http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1231513040/ http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1231513040/#num1 I HAVE A DREAM

"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.


In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

By Martin Luther King, Jr]]> Fri, 9 Jan 2009 07:57:20 EastCoastMama A Christmas Story http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1229090917/ http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1229090917/#num1 I want to wish all of you who come to Debbi's forum a Merry Christmas. A friend sent this Christmas story to me the other day and I want to share it with you.--Louise


Santa and Sarah


Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa At the Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin . The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl. 'Who is this?' asked Santa, smiling.
'Your friend? Your sister?''  'Yes, Santa,' he replied. 'My sister,
Sarah, who is very sick,' he said sadly.

Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. 'She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!' the child exclaimed. 'She misses you,' he added softly.

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face,
asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the
child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.

'What is it?' Santa asked warmly.

'Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ..' the old
woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to
collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. 'The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter well, you see ... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays,' she said through tear-filled eyes.  'Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah?  That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa.'

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon.  He knew what he had to do.


'What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying,' he thought
with a sinking heart, 'This is the least I can do.'

When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening,
he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was
staying.  He asked the assistant location manager how to get to
Children's Hospital.

'Why?' Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.  'C'mon.....I'll take you there.' Rick said softly.
Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.
They found out which room Sarah was in.  A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall.

Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed.

The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the
Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day.
A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently
pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead.

And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a
chair near the bed with a weary, sad look on her face.  They were
talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the
family, and their love and concern for Sarah.

Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, 'Ho, ho, ho!'  'Santa!' shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IV tubes intact. Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug.
A child the tender age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him
with wonder and excitement.

Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy.  But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes.  His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears.


Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.

As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside
one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully,
whispering 'Thank you' as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes.

Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the
toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.

As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray
for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother.  She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands.  Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.  'Oh, yes, Santa... I do!' she exclaimed.

'Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you.' he said.  Laying
one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed.  He
asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease.
He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her.  And when he
finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing, softly,
'Silent Night, Holy Night.... all is calm, all is bright...'

'The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying
tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them
all.


When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held
Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.  'Now, Sarah,' he said
authoritatively, 'you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on
getting well.  I want you to have fun playing with your friends this
summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time
next year!'

He knew it was risky proclaiming that to this little girl who had
terminal cancer, but he 'had' to.  He had to give her the greatest gift
he could -- not dolls or games or toys -- but the gift of HOPE.

'Yes, Santa!' Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.  He leaned down and
kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed
between them and they wept unashamed.

Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and
rushed to Santa's side to thank him.

'My only child is the same age as Sarah,' he explained quietly.
'This is the least I could do.'  They nodded with understanding and
hugged him.

One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do.  Several weeks went
by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.

'Hi, Santa!  Remember me?!'  'Of course, I do,' Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her.  After all, the secret to being a
'good' Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the 'only'
child in the world at that moment.

'You came to see me in the hospital last year!'  Santa's jaw dropped.
Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. 'Sarah!' he exclaimed.  He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year
before.  He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.

That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.
He had witnessed --and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope.  This precious little child was healed.
Cancer-free.  Alive and well.  He silently looked up to Heaven and
humbly whispered, 'Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!'
]]> Fri, 12 Dec 2008 07:08:37 EastCoastMama Happy 50th Birthday http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1212693297/ http://www.deborahbedfordbooks.com/forum/Blah.pl?m-1212693297/#num1   
Happy 50th Birthday


Beautiful Happy Birthday

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
There's so many things, I just want to say.
You inspire many, with your thoughts and actions,
We're all so grateful, for your calm reactions.

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
You've always been there, when we needed you to stay.
Kindness and thoughtfulness is your forte,
Our love for you, we wish to convey.

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
We wish you the best, without any delay.
Hope you enjoy it, from beginning till end,
Here's a hug and kiss, we're ready to send.

by Martin Dejnicki





I just want to give Debbi a warm Happy Birthday wish, on this day, June 12. Happy Birthday Debbi.  

Louise]]> Thu, 5 Jun 2008 12:14:57 EastCoastMama