Andrew had always been a decent sort of a bloke; nothing fancy at a party; pretty quiet in fact. He was married and had three kids. The kids had all grown up and left home. Andrew was a practical man. He always gave a hand, always volunteered. But no one took much notice of him. He liked to quietly potter in his garden.
He was fairly religious; not too much; but he said his prayers, and tried to be kind. He always prayed that he wouldn’t go to Hell but would sneak into Heaven, even if it was just inside the gates as if he had just made it; at the bottom of the pile, so to speak, but in Heaven nonetheless. He would be happy to be happy, but he didn’t have to be the happiest of all.
Then Andrew died, as all are wont to do. He quietly made the rounds of everyone he knew. No one seemed to be that pleased to see him. They shook his hand politely and wished him a good day. It was the way Andrew preferred. Nothing fussy.
Then he had an interview with God.
“What would you like to do?” asked God.
“Maybe I could help out in the garden or something,” said Andrew.
“You barely made it through to Heaven,” said God, “so maybe you can look after the garden just inside the gates.”
Andrew did that. He quietly gardened away. He enjoyed it. He never realised that everyone who entered gasped in astonishment:
“Oh my goodness! Look at the garden! So this is Heaven!”
Listen the story being read HERE!
Awww. This is lovely.
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Awww. Thanks!
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By the hair of his chinny chin chin, Andrew was let in,
But to waste his botanical talents would be a sin.
So then God compromised as by now you have all surmised,
For it’s been written that the meek shall inherit the earth.
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🙂 Thank you for the lovely poem, Oscar! Wouldn’t it be the pits to be meek and dislike gardening or farming!
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A ghastly place The Pits, more commonly known as Hades.
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The Pits could be ‘Armless!
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I’ll take your word on that, I dare not go out on a limb!
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😀 No Limbo for you then.
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Limbo in Heaven is far too cliché!
Leap Frog on cloud nine is what I’d like to play.
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Leap Frog on Cloud Nine! Now there’s a good title for a poem…
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Elysium forbids all forms of poetry. Apollo has had it with gardening haiku from Andrew.
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Oscar and Bruce stood in line
waiting to play on cloud nine.
They said “heaven is crazy
and we’re a bit lazy…”
but the leap frog is truly divine!
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How wonderful to be the subject of a poem by Cynthia Jobin! I can just see you, Cynthia, taking a break from your beatific garden, sitting on Cloud 8, playing a little harp, and singing your song!
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Don’t know about the harp part…string instruments are not my forte, unless it’s a pianoforte….
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Lovely limerick.
Tell me what is the trick
For I’m still standing
While you’re a-leaping
As light as a ton of bricks!
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Some think it’s the rhyme…but it’s all in the rhythm, Oscar, all in the rhythm… 🙂
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I guess I’ll concede, as they say,
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
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Cynthia’s shroud
Got lost in a cloud
While she sang her poem in F-sharp;
Can you shut that clown down?
Said God with a frown,
And now she’s wearing her harp.
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LOL!
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Don’t tell me – if in heaven – we have to sit around and talk 😦 😦
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No no no. Talking is all earthbound. Up there we pontificate!
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Egads! Re pontificating – You mean you’re in heaven now!!!
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No. I get previews on Netflix.
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Nice one Bruce!! And it seems that whatever you imagine you can have in the end……….
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Thanks Pauline. You might like to hang some light-catchers on the trees on your way in!
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I like your positivity 🙂
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Thanks! It’s a habit of mine!!!! 😦
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Don’t listen to him Pauline, Saint Peter is one tough cookie of a customs officer and will not let you sneak them in.
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St Peter I have no doubt is open to bribes – having myself seen pictures of Pauline’s light-catchers.
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Saint Peter, I’ll have you know, has never taken a “bribe”…but call it a donative and he may look the other way.
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LOL! Oscar! Such cynicism in one so young is unbefitting!
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My underpants are lined with sin-icism!
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And they fit quite fine.
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Some people are just too big for their
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Oh! I didn’t realise St Peter had affiliations with NZ Customs – but now you’ve mention it Oscar, it does seem likely St Peter would be ultra vigilant and just a little pedantic too.
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The flying monkeys at Satan’s back door are real suckers for shiny things…just saying.
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“He would be happy to be happy, but he didn’t have to be the happiest of all.” Such a memorable line; I love it!
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Thanks, Cynthia. And – predictably – your lovely comment makes me happy!
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Of course, I read that line, but my brain transposed “happy” for “gay”!
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50 shades of gay?
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Oooh, that was a good porn -parody! But you just managed to get your new tele out of the box. Have you found the power button yet?
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Netflix keeps jamming. The tele itself is fine. It’s my new $5 wristwatch I can’t work. It does everything but tell the time. The instructions are presumably Spanish: INSTRUCCIONES PAR LINEA DE RELOJES 3 ATM – so I can’t work it out.
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Yes. I imagine those Spanish numbers are an enigma to you.
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1. Puede usario mientras lava el auto…
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Yes, I image that would be far less cumbersome that lugging that grandfather clock on your back.
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The grandfather clock doesn’t STRIKE me as heavy!
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Beware the dong! Beware the dong!
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That’s a very nice story for Friday Bruce! And there is so much Wisteria in Sydney now, feels like Heaven…..
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Thanks Shubha. The photo (without the gates) is taken from my garage door!
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Heaven is in New Zealand? But that’s “down under”! I’m so confused!
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It’s all relative!
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You are a magician with your plants Bruce, I can tell from the photos of your kumera!
There’s a story teller by the name Bruce
Who has put his talent to good use
With his tales and his plants
And the poems he chants
There’s not much I can say
Except he makes my day
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Thank you Shubha!!!! It seems to be a poets’ day!
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“Cynthia’s Shroud” has me in stitches! I’m still LMGAO! And I’m absolutely confident that it will be in Saint Peter’s notes. The determining factor to your admittance.
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We perhaps got use it as a distraction while we all slink in…
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Poor Cynthia, I could see it now, a running inside joke in Heaven. It will be her Hell in Heaven to endure every seraphim crash their harp over her head. 💥👵💥
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Now I don’t want to go to heaven at all. I have enough trouble with the cherubim right here.
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As kids we used to sing:
All the little angels ascend up on high,
Which end up? Ass end up,
Ass end on high.
All the little angels ascend up on high!
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I love it!
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Stick with me Cynthia! I have a reservation at a much warmer place. 😅
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I like this story and the fact he squeaked in and got what he wanted and provided vast pleasure to new entrants. Also that his friends were glad to see him, but not too glad…what a hoot. Have you read Mark Twain’s Letters From the Earth? You might enjoy them.
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No – I should try. I tried once to read Huckleberry (or was it Sawyer?) and couldn’t understand a word! It was easier to read the Yorkshire accent in “Wuthering Heights” than to read the Twain dialect!!
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Well, he didn’t give the devil an accent. Satan speaks standard (19th century American) English.
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I’m a big fan of Mark Twain—one of the wittiest people ever. I guess most people only know him from Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, because those are most often presented in schools; but much of his other work, and the transcripts of his talks when he travelled and gave “lectures” are very entertaining in their insight and wry humor.
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I must read the other works. I got completely bewildered by the “black” dialect in the other works. Have you seen the real live movie of Twain walking outside his house smoking a cigarette? I think it’s on youtube somewhere and only a recently rediscovered bit of photography.
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His trip through Europe is pretty darn funny, too. I think Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn are presented to students too early and the result is that Twain guy doesn’t get read as much as he might. It’s kind of like Moby Dick (which I think is the Great American Novel, 19th C). It’s so wide ranging and mystical and then there’s the 50 page treatise on ‘the cetaceans.’ And this gets introduced in 7th grade…
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I’m a great fan of American authors – but Huck and Sawyer I couldn’t comprehend, and Moby must have been the most boring book I’ve ever read!! I guess it’s like reading Jane Austen; I never knew how funny she was until I was older. I should try these authors again. Of course, they’re not taught in New Zealand schools – usually.
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Read Moby Dick with the Transcendentalists in mind and their whole effect on American culture and the pre-Civil War intellectual ferment–Emerson, Thoreau, the western expansion, the world a strange, still unexplored place. I think the new Great American novel is Michael Chabon’s Telegraph Avenue. Same sweep, same social ferment. Anyway, I think lots of people don’t get Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. They are part of a very particular place and time, and if you don’t get most of that, then the humor is going to bypass you (perhaps in a great swath of dialect). I found Moby a revelation when I read it as an adult.
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I know Charles Ives’ Concord Sonata for piano rather well, and it’s regarded as being part of the Transcendentalist school…
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Yes, with its parts named after them. A friend of mine used to buy piano pieces he wanted his wife to play and he bought that one once and sat it on the piano. It sat there for a week and one night she rolled over in bed and said “If you think I’m going to learn that, you’re out of your mind.” Apparently Ives gave instructions at one point that you could use a board to hit all the keys if your hand wasn’t big enough.
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Richard Farrell was a New Zealand pianist – he was the first to play it off by heart at a concert – a feat that Ives never thought possible!
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Apparently Ives was known for his diabolical sense of humor. I’m thinking of the the last chord of his Symphony #2….which I like a whole lot better than that piano sonata.
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His Fourth of July is probably my favourite.
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I totally agree with you, Lisa. Some of the wonderful “classics” of American Literature (and probably the same for British) are presented to young minds incapable of truly relishing them; so they regard them as the boring, tedious obligations they are made to be. This is why I enjoy the leisure of re-reading, these days….so much can be finally understood and loved through the re-reading of worthy books. (In my case it leaves little time for “hot-off-the-press” books. But them’s the vicissitudes!
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That goes especially for Shakespeare! I sat through 5 years of secondary school and didn’t understand a word! Not a word! Now I wonder why on earth I should have found it impossible.
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Well, you can’t read everything. If books were chocolate, I would weigh 400 pounds. I’m still reading classics I missed for one reason or another while popping modern novels like truffles. Sometimes I come across a turn of phrase or a way of expressing something that just knocks my socks off. Just told Bruce the new Great American Novel is Michael Chabon’s Telegraph Avenue. Amazing prose. Too bad we can’t all meet as a book club!
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Yes – I shall certainly try it.
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Heaven must have jobs for everyone! Transcending supply/demand 😉
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As long as I don’t have to do the dishes!
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I really, really, really like this one!
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Thanks. That’s a compliment indeed! And a great boost from someone who writes fantastic stuff.
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I’m blushing…thanks Bruce.
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Blush all you like – it’s true!
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A happy ending
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Nothing changes!
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Not much
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Oh I so love this one! I love people like him!
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Thanks!
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