The online home of
David Ceridon
Welcome to my little corner of the Web world. Consider it a digest version loosely based on my SCI-FI interest and of my hometown, Honomu, HI, USA and of who I am and what seems to be important to me. Sure it won't tell you everything, but you know what they say...
Please enjoy your visit. You honor us by being here. Thank you.
HEAR YE!... HEAR YE!... or open yo'r eeyar...the Hawaii 50TH CLUB of
Washington hosted a
HOLOKU BALL... Check it out!
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I made a new paper with a spoof on UFO yellow sheet.
click here
Read this carefully: Run your cursor through the blue email box on next page. I'm trying to load some pictures but please kokua, it's not working out yet. The "dumb" capture video device is acting up! Just checking once in a while, I'll get it fixed.
...which? Which is the real questions? Are the ideas expressed in the internet truly free or are ideas of freedom only being expressed on the net? When I get a "answering machine" module on my homepage or a free "form" module, the readers of my page will be able to express their "free" ideas. However, the lack of resources is a limitations on the freedom of expressing ideas and any delay compounds the problem. When my homepage is fully operational, won't my inbuilt bias of "good taste" or manners push my reluctant to accept ALL inputs into my homepage? Therefore, it is very possible that my page is a Freehold in the sense that the ideas on it is Free only to me.............
The six most important words: "I admit I made a mistake."
The five most important words: "You did a good job."
The four most important words: "What is your opinion?"
The three most important words: "If you please."
The two most important words: "Thank you."
The one most important word: "We."
The least important word: "I".
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room.
As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it!! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling.
"Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much."
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip- the weather, my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important.
"The Eklunds called last night," he began.
"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."
Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."
To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, "Mark I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me."
The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the grave side. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps.
One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me.
"Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.
"They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us.
Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."
Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."
"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.
Written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosla
If you've received this link, it's because someone cares for you and it means there is probably at least someone for whom you care.
Here's the deal:
Forward this link and little angel to at least 10 different people. Reap what you sow: luck in love, people who care for you, and that warm feeling that comes from loving others.
* (\ (_) /) *..... How is it that life is not life without the death?
*.(_/l l\_) . * . Angels on high with demons below?
.*. /___\ . * .. God to worship and antichrist to fear?
*....*. .* . .* .. Ability to love and to hate? A choice!
Honolulu Star Bulletin
U.S. Air Force
Department of Veterans Affairs
...a continuation of my homepages on a different website (Sort of a Daisy Chain of Homepages)
SCI-FI, SCUBA, Chess, Book-Collecting, TeleComputing, BBS, etc., etc...oh...and of course "Webbing" or the art of being an audience of one on the Net, the mark, the dude you spam, the dude with multiple Email addresses, and the one who loves to delete messages and addresses from their personal servers....someone like me.
Proactive statements:
"The key to the positive development of ourselves and our relationships is through communication... By embracing the differences in others, and opening ourselves up to positive communicatiion, we can break down the walls of intolerance and CELEBRATE the richness of the diverse world we live in." (Emphasis added) "The fountain of content must spring up in the mind, and he who hath so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing anything but his own disposition, will waste his life in fruitless efforts and multiply the grief he proposes to remove." "Innovation, creativity, and advancement - the hallmarks of proactivity - come from IMAGINING what might be." (Emphasis added)
And, hey, if you feel inspired, drop me a
line on my 
.
