Very Very Very Touching Story... Special For Boys.... This Story Make me cry... :-(

[diamonddrago]

F off... it was a good post and show some respect. You are nothing more than a bull shit artist so please feel free not to put down other members genuine attempts to share things etc

where did you magically read me putting down any member?....

yep i did say old story/repost pretty much....why does it hurt more when i say repost as opposed to other members saying it for most reposts in EK?....

LMAO....this is getting old.....even my niece knew the time and place to be annoying.....

it was cute for a while....so nw i am gonna do what i do to my niece.....i am gonna add u to my ignore list.....

i bid u adieu.....

 

[Crazy_Mad]

old story.....and not that sad.....

maybe i have a rock for a heart.....

hmmmmm tnx anyway...

 

[virajintel]

oh ma god!

 

[Maheshs]

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm drink and Drive

 

[Crazy_Mad]

oh ma god!

yap very sad bro...

 

[Crazy_Mad]

For New Members..

 

[Criss Angel]

 

[other guy]

tfs

 

[WhiteWalker]

එඩාඩ් ස්ටාක් මැරුණ වෙලේ අඬපු නැති අපි මේවට අඬයිද
පිස්සුද කඳුලු බින්දුවක්වත් වැටුන්නෑ
තේරුනෙත් නෑ

 

[Fock]

thx 4 sharing

 

[Hard Life]

bump
Drunk drivers to hell!!

 

[Hard Life]

එඩාඩ් ස්ටාක් මැරුණ වෙලේ අඬපු නැති අපි මේවට අඬයිද
පිස්සුද කඳුලු බින්දුවක්වත් වැටුන්නෑ
තේරුනෙත් නෑ

paw ban vihiluwata ganna epa. podi ekekge ammai nangi beela wahana elawana paharayekge athin marununata passe ammata malakui nangita sellam baduwakui ganna salli nathiwa inna scene ekak thiyenne.

 

[WhiteWalker]

paw ban vihiluwata ganna epa. podi ekekge ammai nangi beela wahana elawana paharayekge athin marununata passe ammata malakui nangita sellam baduwakui ganna salli nathiwa inna scene ekak thiyenne.

කියෙව්වෙ නෑ ටචින්ග් ස්ටෝරි කියල හැම එකාම බූට් ගැන ලියන නිසා මං හිතුවෙ එහෙම එකක් කියල

 

[WhiteWalker]

මේ තියෙන්නෙ මං අහපු හොඳ ටචිං ස්ටෝරියක්

INFORMATION PLEASE

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was Information Please and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anybody's number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway - The telephone! Quickly I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. Information Please I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."

"I hurt my finger. . ." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?"

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger."

After that I called Information Please for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math, and she told me my pet chipmunk I had caught in the park just the day before would eat fruits and nuts.

And there was the time that Petey, our pet canary died. I called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers, feet up on the bottom of a cage?

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the pacific Northwest. Then when I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. Information Please belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the hall table.

Yet as I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between plane, and I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please".

Miraculously, I heard again the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information." I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you tell me please how-to spell fix?'

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess that your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed, "So it's really still you, I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder, she said, if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do, just ask for Sally."

Just three months later I was back in Seattle. . .A different voice answered Information and I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" "Yes, a very old friend." "Then I'm sorry to have to tell you. Sally has been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." But before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down, Here it is I'll read it 'Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean'."

I thanked her and hung up. I did know what Sally meant.

- Paul Villard

Originally published June, 1966 Readers Digest."

තව ගොඩක් තියෙනව ටචිං ඉස්ටෝරි කියවන්න එන්න quora එකට
https://www.quora.com/What-are-some-heart-touching-stories

 

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wow is this a true story?