AIDS

The Cab Ride

 Hope this message finds it way to others you know as
 well . . .

 When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark
 except for a single light in a ground floor window.

 Under these circumstances, many drivers would just
 honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive
 away.

 But I had seen too many impoverished people who
 depended on taxis as their only means of
 transportation. Unless a situation smelled of
 danger, I always went to the door. This passenger
 might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned
 to myself.

 So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a
 minute”, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could
 hear something being dragged across the floor.

 After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman
 in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print
 dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it,
 like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

 By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The
 apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for
 years. All the furniture was covered with
 sheets.

 There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or
 utensils on the counters. In the corner was a
 cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

 ”Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I
 took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to
 assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked
 slowly toward the curb.

 She kept thanking me for my kindness. “It’s
 nothing”, I told her. “I just try to treat my
 passengers the way I would want my mother treated”.

 ”Oh, you’re such a good boy”, she said. When we got
 in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked,
 ”Could you drive through downtown?”

 ”It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly.

 ”Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m
 on my way to a hospice”.

 I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were
 glistening. “I don’t have any family left,” she
 continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
 I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

 ”What route would you like me to take?” I asked.

 For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
 She showed me the building where she had once worked
 as an elevator operator.

 We drove through the neighborhood where she and her
 husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had
 me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that
 had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing
 as a girl.

 Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a
 particular building or corner and would sit staring
 into the darkness, saying nothing.

 As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon,
 she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now”

 We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
 It was a low building, like a small convalescent
 home, with a driveway that passed
 under a portico.

 Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we
 pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching
 her every move. They must have been expecting her.

 I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to
 the door. The woman was already seated in a
 wheelchair.

 ”How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into
 her purse.

 ”Nothing,” I said

 ”You have to make a living,” she answered.

 ”There are other passengers,” I responded.

 Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.
 She held onto me tightly.

 ”You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she
 said. “Thank you.”

 I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim
 morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the
 sound of the closing of a life.

 I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I
 drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of
 that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman
 had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient
 to end his shift?

 What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
 once, then driven away?

 On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done
 anything more important in my life.

 We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve
 around great moments.

 But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully
 wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

 PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR
 WHAT YOU SAID, ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW
 YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

 You won’t get any big surprise in 10 days if you
 send this to ten people.

 But, you might help make the world a little kinder
 and more compassionate by sending it on.

 Thank you, my friend…

 Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we
 are here we might as well dance!

The Truth…

Brusquely

Best Divorce Letter

Dear wife:

I’m writing you this letter to tell you that I’m leaving you forever. I’ve been a good man to you for 7 years & I have nothing to show for it.
These last 2 weeks have been hell.
Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today & that was the last straw.
Last week, you came home & didn’t even notice I had a new haircut, had cooked your favorite meal & even wore a brand new pair of silk boxers.
You ate in 2 minutes, & went straight to sleep after watching all of your soaps.
You don’t tell me you love me anymore; you don’t want sex or anything that connects us as husband & wife. Either you’re cheating on me oryou don’t love me anymore; whatever! the case, I’m gone.

Your EX-Husband
P.S. don’t try to find me. Your SISTER & I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!

Dear Ex-Husband

Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter.
It’s true you & I have been married for 7 years, although a good man is a far cry from what you’ve been.
I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your constant whining & griping. Too bad that doesn’t work.
I DID notice when you got a hair cut last week, but the 1st thing that came to mind was ‘You look just like a girl!’ Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can’t say something nice, I didn’t
comment.
And when you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER, because I stopped eating pork 7 years ago.
About those new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them, & ; I prayed it was a coincidence that my sister had just borrowed $50 from me that morning.
After all of this, I still loved you & felt we could work it out.
So when I hit the lotto for 10 million dollars, I quit my job & bought us 2 tickets to Jamaica But when I got home you were gone.
Everything happens for a reason, I guess.
I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote ensures you won’t get a dime from me.

So take care.

Signed,
Your Ex-Wife, Rich As Hell & Free!

P.S. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was born Carl.

I hope that’s not a problem.