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yhe last cab ride
Dec 30, 2019 17:58:32   #
badbobby Loc: texas
 
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on

LAST CAB RIDE

A reminder about what life is really about.

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes, I honked again.

Since this was going to be my last ride of

my shift I thought about just driving away,

But instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 1940's 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 to be 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 in a soft voice…

'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 answered.

'You have to make a living,' she said.

'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...

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...

At the bottom of this great story was a

request to forward this –

I deleted that request because if you

have read to this point,

You won't have to be asked to pass it

along, you just will...

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped

for, but while we are here we might

as well dance. 💃🏾

| Reply
Dec 31, 2019 06:51:52   #
Peewee Loc: San Antonio, TX
 
badbobby wrote:
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on

LAST CAB RIDE

A reminder about what life is really about.

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes, I honked again.

Since this was going to be my last ride of

my shift I thought about just driving away,

But instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 1940's 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 to be 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 in a soft voice…

'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 answered.

'You have to make a living,' she said.

'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...

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...

At the bottom of this great story was a

request to forward this –

I deleted that request because if you

have read to this point,

You won't have to be asked to pass it

along, you just will...

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped

for, but while we are here we might

as well dance. 💃🏾
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on br br... (show quote)


Thanks, I've seen it before and it always makes me tear up. I hope you're doing okay and wishing you and yours a wonderful New Year!

| Reply
Dec 31, 2019 10:46:15   #
Rose42
 
badbobby wrote:
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on

LAST CAB RIDE

A reminder about what life is really about.

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes, I honked again.

Since this was going to be my last ride of

my shift I thought about just driving away,

But instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 1940's 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 to be 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 in a soft voice…

'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 answered.

'You have to make a living,' she said.

'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...

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...

At the bottom of this great story was a

request to forward this –

I deleted that request because if you

have read to this point,

You won't have to be asked to pass it

along, you just will...

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped

for, but while we are here we might

as well dance. 💃🏾
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on br br... (show quote)


That was good! Along those lines here's something I just got. I'd credit it but don't know where it originated.

Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line -

Make moments count.
Make priorities.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make love.
Make up.
Make peace.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.



| Reply
Dec 31, 2019 11:49:02   #
badbobby Loc: texas
 
Rose42 wrote:
That was good! Along those lines here's something I just got. I'd credit it but don't know where it originated.

Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line -

Make moments count.
Make priorities.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make love.
Make up.
Make peace.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.
That was good! Along those lines here's something... (show quote)


thanks Rose
I'm prepared
I've had a long time to get ready

| Reply
Dec 31, 2019 12:59:59   #
bahmer
 
badbobby wrote:
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on

LAST CAB RIDE

A reminder about what life is really about.

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes, I honked again.

Since this was going to be my last ride of

my shift I thought about just driving away,

But instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 1940's 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 to be 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 in a soft voice…

'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 answered.

'You have to make a living,' she said.

'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...

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...

At the bottom of this great story was a

request to forward this –

I deleted that request because if you

have read to this point,

You won't have to be asked to pass it

along, you just will...

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped

for, but while we are here we might

as well dance. 💃🏾
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on br br... (show quote)


Thanks for that badbobby it has been passed on.

| Reply
Jan 2, 2020 13:33:21   #
TexaCan Loc: Heart in W Texas - feet on the beach in Al.
 
badbobby wrote:
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on

LAST CAB RIDE

A reminder about what life is really about.

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes, I honked again.

Since this was going to be my last ride of

my shift I thought about just driving away,

But instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 1940's 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 to be 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 in a soft voice…

'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 answered.

'You have to make a living,' she said.

'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...

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...

At the bottom of this great story was a

request to forward this –

I deleted that request because if you

have read to this point,

You won't have to be asked to pass it

along, you just will...

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped

for, but while we are here we might

as well dance. 💃🏾
got this in my mail--thought I'd pass it on br br... (show quote)


Thank you for sharing this with all of us! May we use the opportunity that God gives us to show His love through our words and actions to someone that needs our time and attention for just that moment in time to give that person joy and peace.

| Reply
Jan 2, 2020 13:40:31   #
TexaCan Loc: Heart in W Texas - feet on the beach in Al.
 
Rose42 wrote:
That was good! Along those lines here's something I just got. I'd credit it but don't know where it originated.

Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line -

Make moments count.
Make priorities.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make love.
Make up.
Make peace.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.
That was good! Along those lines here's something... (show quote)


Rose,

This is a wonderful New Year’s resolution!

Have a Blessed New Year!

MARANATHA

| Reply
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