Thank You, M'am by Langston Hughes She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything

in it but hammer an d nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. It w as about eleven oclock at night, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up beh ind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke with the single tug the b oy gave it from behind. But the boys weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance so, instead of taking off full blast as he had h oped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up. the large woman simply turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter . Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt front, and shook him unt il his teeth rattled. After that the woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy, and give it here." She s till held him. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her p urse. Then she said, "Now aint you ashamed of yourself?" Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, "Yesm." The woman said, "What did you want to do it for?" The boy said, "I didnt aim to." She said, "You a lie!" By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to look, and some stood watching. "If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the woman. "Yesm," said the boy. "Then I wont turn you loose," said the woman. She did not release him. "Im very sorry, lady, Im sorry," whispered the boy. "Um-hum! And your face is dirty. I got a great mind to wash your face for you. A int you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?" "Nom," said the boy. "Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman starting up the str eet, dragging the frightened boy behind her. He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis sh oes and blue jeans. The woman said, "You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Lea st I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?" "Nom," said the being dragged boy. "I just want you to turn me loose." "Was I bothering you when I turned that corner?" asked the woman. "Nom." "But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman. "If you think that th at contact is not going to last awhile, you got another thought coming. When I g et through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones." Sweat popped out on the boys face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half-nelson about his neck, and continu ed to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy insi de, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear othe r roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open , too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by th e neck in the middle of her room. She said, "What is your name?" "Roger," answered the boy. "Then, Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose--at last. Roger looked at the door, looked at the woman, l ooked at the door, and went to the sink. Let the water run until it gets warm," she said. "Heres a clean towel." "You gonna take me to jail?" asked the boy, bending over the sink. "Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere," said the woman. "Here I am t

rying to get home to cook me a bite to eat and you snatch my pocketbook! Maybe, you aint been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?" "Theres nobody home at my house," said the boy. "Then well eat," said the woman, "I believe youre hungry or been hungry to try to snatch my pocketbook." "I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy. "Well, you didnt have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes," said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. "You could of asked me." "Mam?" The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he had dried his face and not knowing what else to do dried it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. H e could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run, run! The woman was sitting on the day-bed. After a while she said, "I were young once and I wanted things I could not get." There was another long pause. The boys mouth opened. Then he frowned, but not kn owing he frowned. The woman said, "Um-hum! You thought I was going to say but, didnt you? You thoug ht I was going to say, but I didnt snatch peoples pocketbooks. Well, I wasnt going to say that." Pause. Silence. "I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, son neither tell God, if he didnt already know. So you set down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair so you will look presentable." In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs . Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to se e if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse which she left behind her on the day-bed. But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room whe re he thought she could easily see him out of the corner other eye, if she wante d to. He did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mis trusted now. "Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked the boy, "maybe to get some mil k or something?" "Dont believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned milk I got here." "That will be fine," said the boy. She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox, made the cocoa, and se t the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she tol d him about her job in a hotel beauty-shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out, blondes, red-heads, and Sp anish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent cake. "Eat some more, son," she said. When they were finished eating she got up and said, "Now, here, take this ten do llars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And next time, do not make the mis take of latching onto my pocketbook nor nobody elses because shoes come be devili sh like that will burn your feet. I got to get my rest now. But I wish you would behave yourself, son, from here on in." She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it. "Goodnight!" Behave y ourself, boy!" she said, looking out into the street. The boy wanted to say something else other that "Thank you, mam" to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but he couldnt do so as he turned at the barren stoop and looked back at the large woman in the door. He barely managed to say "Thank you " before she shut the door. And he never saw her again.

Positive Thinking Jerry is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and alway s has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to re staurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natu ral motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and aske d him, I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do yo u do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you h ave two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every t ime someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life. "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choic e. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect you r mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I ma de a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand , shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked an d shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined t o see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have lock ed the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered tha t I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live." "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "... the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the docto rs and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man.' I k new I needed to take action." What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. Yes, I replied. Th e doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing t o live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'" Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude.

Every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Dreams The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to ge t to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentl e hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smil e that that lit up her entire being. She said, "Hi, handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?" I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and she gave me a giant squeeze. "Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I asked. She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a coup le of children, and then retire and travel." "No seriously," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age. "I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!" she to ld me. After class we walked to the student union building and share a chocolate milksh ake. We became instant friends. Every day, for the next three months, we would l eave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "time machine" as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made frien ds wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bes towed upon her from the other students. She was living it up. At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I'l l never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podi um. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five c ards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the micro phone and simply said, "I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and th is whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know." As we laughed she cleared her throat and began: "We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. "You have to laugh and find h umor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!" "There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nin eteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thi ng, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in b ed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow o lder. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change." "Have no regrets. The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but ra ther for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with reg rets." She concluded her speech by courageously singing The Rose. She challenged each o f us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the years end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonder ful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you can possi bly be.

The future belongs to those who believe In the beauty of their dreams -Eleanor Roosevelt