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<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="1" width="100%" class="forumline"> <tr> <th class="thCornerL" width="22%" height="26">Author</th> <th class="thCornerR">Message</th> </tr> <tr> <td width="22%" align="left" valign="top" class="row1"><span class="name"><a name=""></a><b>doooogs96</b></span></td> <td class="row1" height="28" valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td width="100%"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/Boyz/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Posted: Thu 11:52, 04 Nov 2010<span class="gen"> </span> Post subject: A Simple Act of Love</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">When I was growing up, my father always stopped what he was doing and listened while I'd breathlessly fill him in on my day. For him, no subject was off-limits. When I was a lanky and awkward 13, Dad coached me on how to stand and walk like a lady. At 17 and madly in love, I sought his advice on pursuing a new student at school. “Keep the conversation neutral,” he counseled. “And ask him about his car.” <br />I followed his suggestions and gave him daily progress reports: “Terry walked me to my locker!” Guess what? Terry held my hand!” Dad! He asked me out!” Terry and I went steady for over a year, and soon Dad was joking, “I can tell you how to get a man; the hard part is getting rid of him.” <br />By the time I graduated from college, I was ready to spread my wings. I got a job teaching special education at a school in Coachella, California, a desert town about 170 miles from home. It was no dream job. Low-income housing across the street from the school was a haven for drug users. Street gangs hung around the school after dark. Many of my charges, emotionally disturbed 10-to 14-year-old boys, had been arrested for shoplifting, car theft or arson. sunglasses replica <br />“Be careful,” Dad warned me during one of my frequent weekend visits home. He was concerned about my living alone, but I was 23, enthusiastic and naive, and I needed to be on my own. Besides, teaching jobs were tight in 1974, and I felt lucky to have one. <br />“Don't worry,” I reassured him, as I loaded up the car to start my trip back to the desert and my job. <br />Several evenings later I stayed after school to rearrange my classroom. Finished, I turned out the light and closed the door. Then I headed toward the gate. It was locked! I looked around. Everyone - teachers, custodians, secretaries - had gone home and, not realizing I was still there, stranded me on the school grounds. I glanced at my watch -- it was almost 6 p.m. I had been so engrossed in my work that I hadn't noticed the time.replica sunglasses <br />After checking all the exits, I found just enough room to squeeze under a gate in the rear of the school. I pushed my purse through first, lay on my back and slowly edged through. <br />I retrieved my purse and walked toward my car, parked in a field behind the building. Eerie shadows fell across the schoolyard. <br />Suddenly, I heard voices. I glanced around and saw at least eight high-school-age boys following me. They were half a block away. Even in the near darkness I could see they were wearing gang insignia. <br />“Hey!” one called out. “You a teacher?”Wedding dresses <br />“Nah, she's too young -- must be an aide!” another said. <br />As I walked faster, they continued taunting me. “Hey! She's kinda cute!” <br />Quickening my pace, I reached into my shoulder bag to get my key ring. If I have the keys <br /> <br />in my hands, I thought, I can unlock the car and get in before...My heart was pounding. <br /> <br />Frantically, I felt all over the inside of my handbag. But the key ring wasn't there! <br />“Hey! Let's get the lady!” one boy shouted. Final Fantasy XI GIL <br />Dear Lord, please help me, I prayed silently. Suddenly, my fingers wrapped around a loose key in my purse. I didn't even know if it was for my car, but I took it out and clutched it firmly. <br />I jogged across the grass to my car and tried the key. It worked! I opened the door, slid in and locked it -- just as the teenagers surrounded the car, kicking the sides and banging on the roof. Trembling, I started the engine and drove away. <br />Later, some teachers went back to the school with me. With flashlights, we found the key ring on the ground by the gate, where it had fallen as I slid through. <br />When I returned to my apartment, the phone was ringing. It was Dad. I didn't tell him about my ordeal; I didn't want to worry him. <br />“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” he said. “I had an extra car key made and slipped it into your pocketbook -- just in case you ever need it.” <br />Today, I keep that key in my dresser drawer and treasure it. Whenever I hold it in my hand, I am reminded of all the wonderful things Dad has done for me over the years. I realize that, although he is now 68 and I am 40, I still look to him for wisdom, guidance and reassurance. Most of all, I marvel at the fact that his thoughtful gesture of making the extra key may have saved my life. And I understand how a simple act of love can make extraordinary things happen. <br />相关的主题文章： <br /> <br /> <br /> 父亲越来越小</span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/Boyz/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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