My Only Photo: Blog Connections And Me

My Only Photo: Blog Connections And Me

This Is A Perfect Example of Unconditional Love

Well today it will be someone else's story. I just want to repeat a story that been all time my favorite. I enjoy reading every time it gets to me by email chain letter, come across it on Internet or even someone already knows it and tells me again. I usually listen, and then tell them yes I know all about it. I probably will embellish or change the story a bit, however, the meaning will remain and that's what matters on the end. So there is this little boy, may be five or older, and his older sister been diagnosed with leukemia. The boy been asked if he can give his blood to his sister so she can get well. Without hesitation the boy agrees. During the blood transfusion the boy was laying beside her sister and watched how color on her face came back. He smiled, then he turned to the nurse or doctor standing by and asked, how soon until I start to die? To me this is a perfect example of unconditional love.

A Plane Crash I Will Never Forget

I was one of the witnesses when British air plane RAF Nimrod crashed into Lake Ontario during the International Air Show in Toronto on September 2nd, 1995. I wish I didn't witness. Why? Because 7 people died, 7 young men died and no one could do anything. Few years later, on September 11th, 2001 in horror I watched live news at home when the New York World Trade Center was attacked by terrorists and eventually collapsed. Thousands of people died. Two incidences 6 years apart, one pure accident a human error, and another one evil human choice.

The story goes on. I liked going to air shows. Every year about 2 weeks before I would get impatient about the Labor weekend air show. Little things like - which day should we go, where should we sit or will it rain? That year in 1995, something unusual was happening to me all week long before the air show. I was having these dreams about air plane landings near GTA airport. These white and red mid size air planes were flying over the highway and were landing on the Pearson International Airport, Toronto. It felt strange, but then I thought, I am getting impatient again and may be just because I pass by airport too often. Perhaps that is why the air plane dreams were sparked.

Finally we, my boyfriend then and husband now, decided to take on the Saturday show. It was the first day of the air show. That day Saturday turned out to be a beautiful sunny day. That morning I woke up and I was little edgy and excited. I told my mom, you will not believe what I dreamed about. An air plane crash and it crashed in front of our old house where I used to live when I was still in elementary school. It wasn't that bad of a crash, and I could not see if anyone died. I only saw a big round pointy tip of the plane, shadowing the whole front yard and the house. The smoke made impossible to see more detail. That morning my boyfriend quietly listen to this story on the other side of the phone.

We arrived at the CNE by noon. Passed through pathways full of people. Once in a while an army cadet would come up to us and try to sell us the air show program. 'Air Show Program for Sale', 'Air Show Program for Sale' - he kept yelling out loud. We passed on the first offer, but then gave in on the second offer, so we purchased the air show program for five bucks. We found perfect spot to watch the show. A spot that gave us nice view for free. It was sunny, very hot, but the breeze from Lake Ontario kept us cool.

Everything was going well. Planes flew back and forth, peoples heads moving back and forth. I particularly liked fighter jets like the F16 or Stealth leaving thunder like sound behind. I forgot all about my dreams and nightmares. The Nimrod came to the view. I don't remember if he flew by once or twice, but then around 3:30 pm (I think) close to the end of the show, the Nimrod was moving our way. Far away from us but our way. He was flying gradually down. I took some photos before. I watched, and the plane continued gradually descending towards the water. I thought - its all part of the show. Suddenly the plane nose dived into the shallow waters of the Lake Ontario. The water splashed and I thought - its all part of the show - this was me being in shock state and hoping that what I just saw was not real. People whispered, shook their heads. I looked into my boyfriends eyes - it was true, the plane crashed. Perhaps the plane in the dream was Nimrod.

Air show was cancelled, curious people were awaiting news, asked questions. As we walked back to the car the same army cadet passed us - 'Air Show Souvenir for Sale', 'Air Show Souvenir for Sale' - he yelled out.

[TRUE STORY]

REFERENCES
British Bomber Crashes During Air Show

Equation For The Hardest Job

Finally my article idea came back to me after days of trying to remember what I was going to write about. It came back while we were driving to work beside the toilet rental truck with some type of sewer pump. I said, wow, all he has to do is rent these portable toilets, clean them, deliver or pick them up, and he is making money - the man driving a truck looked happy. There is lot of constructions, and sport events going on in our area, so these are very useful, and yes there is market for it. Eureka! I got it, I finally got it. I know now what I wanted to write about - it was about the hardest job, and I had all figured out. So what is the hardest job. Is the hardest job also the most difficult job? Is the hardest job also not very pleasant job? Is the hardest job also stressful job? I guess you can ask these questions to determine the job hardness level. However, I will share my opinion about the hardest job.
A job can only be hard if you yourself make it hard. In life we may not have choice where we are going to work, but we have the choice to make it better. A job can be difficult, but if you skilled then it is not difficult anymore. A job may not be pleasant, but needs to be done, and you are happy because at least you have a job and can support your family. A job can be stressful, but then who is in control?
The other day in the mid of hot summer day, the garbage man passed by to pick up garbage from the curbs of houses on my street. I observed and thought for second, his job must be hard. Then I listened and looked closer, the man has full blast radio on, and he sang away - he looked not just happy, but he looked very happy.
The other day in the mid of hot summer day, the elegant car passed by with an elegant man in a dark suit, and probably running air conditioner at full blast. He probably is some kind of executive, not much of physical hard work to do - I thought, but then he looked not happy.
The other day in the mid of hot summer day, I see young landscaper digging a small flower bed. He looked tired and exhausted. He doesn't belong in this job, but he does it. Is he happy?
Few weeks ago, we had window installer replacing all the windows in our house. When we met him, he looked happy, but once we got to know him, I don't think he was.
I am now confused very confused and I wish there was some kind of equation for the hardest job, but then no. No it is not right. I think the hardest job is when you are not happy. And I am beginning to think there is no equation for hardest job, or for happiness, or for anything in life, and I better move on before I become even more confused, and blogging will become the hardest job in my life.

Empty Head of Mine

There are days when I can write my head off, and there are days I have no ideas - and today is the day where my head is absolutely empty. The other day, I did have an excellent idea, and I know it was excellent because I was thinking about it a lot and planning how I will write it and so on and on, but then I don't know what happened - I cannot remember. May be I just think too much. So just letting you all know, that the blog is still active, and if you don't see anything new, then that means my head is not active. Please stay tuned, and enjoy my other blobbing stories, and lets hope I have some new stories for you in the loot bag in the next few days.