The important things in life

A philosophy professor stood before his class with some items on the table in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, about 2 inches in diameter.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up the remaining open areas of the jar.

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the hasband who vanished

The McDonnells lived in a small brick house in Larchmont, a suburb of New York City. Jim was

foreman of mail carriers at the post office where he had worked for 25 years. A gentle, soft-
spoken man, he had a wave of the hand acquaintance with hundreds of people in town. Married

in 1960, he and Anne were childless.

During February and March 1971, when he was 50, Jim McDonnell suffered a curious series of

accidents. None was critical in itself, but the combination appeared to trigger a strange result.

Carrying out the garbage one evening, he slipped on ice-coated steps, bruised his back and struck

his head. A few days later, driving to work, he had a fit of sneezing, lost control of the car, hit a

telephone pole and banged his forehead against the windshield. The following day a dizzy spell

at work sent him tumbling down a flight of steps, and again he banged his head. Ten days later

he again lost control of his car and hit a pole. Found unconscious, he was hospitalized for three

days with a cerebral concussion.

On March 29, 1971, Jim borrowed a friend’s station wagon and drove to Kennedy Airport to

pick up Anne’s brother and family. Then he took them to Anne’s sister’s house. When he

returned the borrowed car at 10 p.m., he was unaware that the leather folder containing his

identification had slipped out of his pocket onto the floor of the station wagon. Jim declined the

offer of a ride home: “I have a terrible headache and the walk will help clear my head.”

Ordinarily the walk would have taken about 15 minutes.

At 11:15 p.m. Anne called the owner of the station wagon; he had no idea why Jim had not yet

reached home. It was unlike Jim not to telephone if he was delayed. At 2 a.m., Anne called the

police and reported her husband missing.

After 24 hours, the police sent out an all-points bulletin and began writing some 50 letters to

Jim’s friends and relatives. They followed through on every anonymous tip and even checked

unidentified bodies in New York morgues.

Detective George Mulcahy was assigned to head the investigation. He knew Jim was a man of

probity and openness—the two attended the same church—and Mulcahy was sure the

disappearance had nothing to do with wrongdoing by Jim McDonnell. Investigation confirmed

that McDonnell’s personal and professional records were impeccable, and turned up no

tendencies toward self destruction or any evidence that he had been a victim of an accident or

attack.

For Mulcahy, the only explanation was amnesia.

The phenomenon of amnesia is clouded in mystery. Why it occurs in some patients and not in

others is open to medical speculation. What is known is that loss of memory can be caused by

stroke, Alzheimer’s disease, alcoholism, severe psychological trauma—or by blows to the head.

Any individual whose brain has suffered such injuries can simply wander aimlessly away from

the place where he lives, with all knowledge of his past blacked out.
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funny storys

The child and his mother:

A curious child asked his mother: “Mommy, why are some of your hairs turning grey?”
The mother tried to use this occasion to teach her child: “It is because of you, dear. Every bad action of yours will turn one of my hairs grey!”
The child replied innocently: “Now I know why grandmother has only grey hairs on her head.”

Wrong email address:

A couple going on vacation but his wife was on a business trip so he went to the destination first and his wife would meet him the next day.
When he reached his hotel, he decided to send his wife a quick email.
Unfortunately, when typing her address, he mistyped a letter and his note was directed instead to an elderly preacher’s wife whose husband had passed away only the day before.
When the grieving widow checked her email, she took one look at the monitor, let out a piercing scream, and fell to the floor in a dead faint.
At the sound, her family rushed into the room and saw this note on the screen:
Dearest Wife,
Just got checked in. Everything prepared for your arrival tomorrow.
P.S. Sure is hot down here.

Will’s experience at the airport:

After his return from Rome, Will couldn’t find his luggage in the airport baggage area. He went to the lost luggage office and told the woman there that his bags hadn’t shown up on the carousel.
She smiled and told him not to worry because they were trained professionals and he was in good hands.
Then she asked Will, “Has your plane arrived yet?”

Clever kids:

A police officer found a perfect hiding place for watching for speeding motorists.
One day, the officer was amazed when everyone was under the speed limit, so he investigated and found the problem.
A 10 years old boy was standing on the side of the road with a huge hand painted sign which said “Radar Trap Ahead.”
A little more investigative work led the officer to the boy’s accomplice: another boy about 100 yards beyond the radar trap with a sign reading “TIPS” and a bucket at his feet full of change.

Mouthology:

A Professor was traveling by boat. On his way he asked the sailor:
“Do you know Biology, Ecology, Zoology, Geography, physiology?
The sailor said no to all his questions.
Professor: What the hell do you know on earth. You will die of illiteracy.
After a while the boat started sinking. The Sailor asked the Professor, do you know swiminology & escapology from sharkology?
The professor said no.
Sailor: “Well, sharkology & crocodilogy will eat your assology, headology & you will dieology because of your mouthology.

Captain:

A navy captain is alerted by his First Mate that there is a pirate ship coming towards his position. He asks a sailor to get him his red shirt.
The captain was asked, “Why do you need a red shirt?”
The Captain replies, “So that when I bleed, you guys don’t notice and aren’s discouraged.” They fight off the pirates eventually.
The very next day, the Captain is alerted that 50 pirate ships are coming towards their boat. He yells, “Get me my brown pants!”

Elephant:

The class teacher asks students to name an animal that begins with an “E”. One boy says, “Elephant.”
Then the teacher asks for an animal that begins with a “T”. The same boy says, “Two elephants.”
The teacher sends the boy out of the class for bad behavior. After that she asks for an animal beginning with “M”.
The boy shouts from the other side of the wall: “Maybe an elephant!”

The stranger who change my life

In 1983, I was traveling with a tiny theater company doing vaudeville-type shows in community centers and bars—anywhere we could earn $25 each plus enough gas money to get to the next small town in our ramshackle yellow bus.
As we passed through Bozeman, Montana, in early February, a heavy snow slowed us down. The radio crackled warnings about black ice and poor visibility, so we opted to impose on friends who were doing a production of Fiddler on the Roof at Montana State University. See a show, hit a few bars, sleep on a sofa: This is as close to prudence as it gets when you’re an itinerant 20-something troubadour.
After the show, well-wishers and stagehands milled behind the curtain. I hugged my coat around me, humming that “If I Were a Rich Man” riff from the show, aching for sunrise and sunset, missing my sisters. What a wonderful show that was—and is.
A heavy metal door swung open, allowing in a blast of frigid air, and clanged shut behind two men who stomped snow from their boots. One was big and bearlike in an Irish wool sweater and gaiters; the other was as tall and skinny as a chimney sweep in a peacoat.
“… but I’m just saying, it would be nice to see some serious theater,” one of them said. “Chekhov, Ibsen, anything but this musical comedy shtick.”
“Excuse me?” I huffed, hackles raised. “Anyone who doesn’t think comedy is an art form certainly hasn’t read much Shakespeare, have they?”
I informed them that I was a “professional shtick tress” and went on to deliver a tart, pedantic lecture on the French neoclassic, the cultural impact of Punch and Judy as an I Love Lucy prototype, and the importance of Fiddler on the Roof as both artistic and oral history. The shrill diatribe left a puff of frozen breath in the air. I felt my snootiness showing like a stray bra strap as the sweep in the pea coat rolled his eyes and walked away.
The bear stood there for a moment, an easy smile in his brown eyes. Then he put his arms around me and whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
I took in a deep, startled breath—winter, Irish wool, coffee, and fresh-baked bread—and then pushed away with a jittery half-joke. Something like, “Watch it. I have pepper spray.”
“OK,” he said with a broad baritone laugh. “Come for a walk, then. It’ll be nice.”
I shook my head. Alarm and skepticism warred with spreading, unsteady warmth behind my collarbone. “Walking around in the freezing dark with a total stranger is not nice,” I said. I tipped a glance to the well-worn gaiters. “Planning to do some cross-country skiing?”
“Riding my bike,” he said, and then added without apology, “I’m between vehicles.”
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