I have many memories about my father and about growing up with him in our apartment next to the elevated train tracks. For 20 years, we listened to the roar of the train as it passed by his bedroom window. Late at night, he waited alone on the tracks for the train that took him to his job at a factory, where he worked the midnight shift.

On this particular night, I waited with him in the dark to say good-bye. His face was grim. His youngest son had been drafted. I would be sworn in at six the next morning, while he stood at his paper-cutting machine in the factory.

My father had talked about his anger. He didn’t want them to take his child, only 19 years old, who had never had a drink or smoked a cigarette, to fight a war in Europe. He placed his hands on my slim shoulders. “You be careful, Srulic, and if you ever need anything, write to me and I’ll see that you get it.”

Suddenly, he heard the roar of the approaching train. He held me tightly in his arms and gently kissed me on the cheek. With tear-filled eyes, he murmured, “I love you, my son.” Then the train arrived, the doors closed him inside, and he disappeared into the night.

One month later, at age 46, my father died. I am 76 as I sit and write this. I once heard Pete Hamill, the New York reporter, say that memories are man’s greatest inheritance and I have to agree. I’ve lived through four invasions in World War II. I’ve had a life full of all kinds of experiences. But the only memory that lingers is of the night when my dad said, “I love you, my son.”

——  By Ted Kruger from ‘A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul’

A man was on the side of the road with a large birdcage. A boy noticed that the cage was full of birds of many kinds.

“Where did you get those birds?” he asked.

“Oh, all over the place,” the man replied. “I lure them with crumbs, pretend I’m their friend then when they are close, I net them and shove them into my cage.”

“And what are you going to do with them now?”

The man grinned, “I’m going to prod them with sticks, and get them really and so they fight and kill each other. Those that survive, I will kill. None will escape.” The boy looked steadily at the man. What made him do such things? He looked into the cruel hard eyes. Then he looked at the birds, defenseless, without hope.

“Can I buy those birds?” the boy asked. The man hid a smile, aware that he could be on to a good thing if he played his cards right.

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “The cage is pretty expensive, and I spent a lot of time collecting these birds, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll let you have the lot, birds, cage and all for ten pounds and that jacket you’re wearing.” The boy paused, ten pounds was all he had, and the jacket was new and very special, in fact it was his prized possession.

Slowly, he took out the ten pounds and handed it over, then even more slowly he took off his jacket, gave it one last look then handed that over too.

And then (well, you’ve guessed it) he opened the door and let the birds go free.

MORAL OF THE STORY IS . . .

The enemy of the world, Satan, was on the side of life’s road with a very large cage. The man coming towards him noticed it was crammed full of people of every kind, young, old, from every race and nation.

“Where did you get all those people?” the man asked. “Oh, from all over the world,” Satan replied. “I lure them with drink, drugs, lust, lies, anger, hate, love of money and all manner of things. I pretend I’m their friend, out to give them a good time, then when I’ve hooked them, into the cage they go.”

“And what are you going to do with them now?” asked the man. Satan grinned. “I’m going to prod them, provoke them, get them to hate and destroy each other; I’ll stir up racial hatred, defiance of law and order; I’ll make people bored, lonely, dissatisfied, confused and restless. It’s easy. People will always listen to what I offer them and (what’s better) blame GOD for the outcome!” “And then what?” the man asked. “Those who do not destroy themselves, I will destroy. None will escape me.” The man stepped forward. “Can I buy these people from you?” he asked.

Satan snarled, “Yes, but it will cost you your life.” So JESUS CHRIST, the Son of GOD, paid for your release, your freedom from Satan’s trap, with His own life, on the cross at Calvary.

The door is open, and anyone, whom Satan has deceived, can be set free.

There once was a milkman in the early 1900′s named Jack. He and his horse, Pierre, did their job every day with joy in their hearts. Jack wasn’t so bright and he couldn’t read so when people needed extra milk, they would call to Jack as he left. They would yell, “I’ll need some extra milk tomorrow!” which Jack would always reply,”To give your friends some pleasure!”

Jack and Pierre were great friends and did their job for years and years. After a while, Jack didn’t have to do much anymore because Pierre knew where and when to stop. The friends continued their job until one sad morning.

Jack came into work one day to find his boss waiting for him.
“Jack,” said his boss,”I have some sad news. This morning, Pierre died in his stall.”
Tears started to run down Jack’s face.
“It’s OK Jack,” said his boss. “He was an old horse.”
“I will never see my friend again,” said Jack tearfully.
“Yes you will. He’s laying in his stall very peacefully right now. You can see him now if you’d like.”
“You do not understand. I will never see Pierre again.”
“I understand your sadness. You may have the day off if you’d like.”
“No, I have a job to do,” and with that Jack walked off. He was given a new horse and carriage and he went off to do his job.

That day, Jack was in an accident. His carriage was hit by an automobile. When his boss heard this, he rushed down to where the accident was. When he got there he asked, “Is Jack OK?”
“No, he died in the crash,” said the doctor.
“I don’t understand,” said the driver of the automobile. “It was like he didn’t even see me!”
“That’s because he didn’t. This man has been blind for 5 years,” said the doctor.
“I never knew!” said Jack’s boss.
“He didn’t tell you?” said the doctor.
Just then, Jack’s boss remembered what Jack said about Pierre. “No, but someone else knew. “
“Who?” asked the doctor.
“A friend of Jack’s. His name was Pierre. I think that it was just a little secret between friends.”