Humor 11/30/98: Product Labels

Hey,

I ate so much this past week before and during Thanksgiving. How about
you? I also caught up on many of my classes.

I enjoyed talking to some of you in Boston today. It was great to catch
up. Let me know if any of you intend to visit LA at the end of
December.

This week's humor email was forwarded by Phil Lin, and the touching
story forwarded by Erik Smith. Let me warn you that it's good, but
long. Enjoy!

-Josh.

_____________________________
HUMOR: Product Labels

No wonder the intelligent NEVER read the directions! ;^)

PRODUCT LABELS (Honest. They are there!)

On instructions for a hairdryer:
Do not use while sleeping.

On a bag of Fritos:
You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside.

On a bar of Dial bath bar:
Directions: Use like regular soap.

On a frozen dinner package:
Serving suggestion: Defrost.

On a hotel-provided shower cap box:
Fits one head.

On Tesco's Tirimisu dessert:
Do not turn upside down (Printed on the bottom of the box)

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding:
Product will be hot after heating.

On packaging from a Rowenta Iron.
Do not iron clothes on body.

On Boot's children's cough medicine:
Do not drive car or operate machinery.

On a bottle of Nytol (a sleeping pill):
Warning: May cause drowsiness.

On a Korean kitchen knife:
Warning: Keep out of children.

On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights:
For indoor or outdoor use only.

On a Japanese food processor:
Not to be used for the other use.

On Sainsbury's peanuts:
Warning: Contains nuts.

On an American Airlines package of nuts:
Instructions: Open package, eat nuts.

On a Swedish chainsaw:
Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands.

On a package of Sun Maid raisins:
Why not try tossing over your favorite breakfast cereal?
________________________

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in
Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund
was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that
happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness
delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that
talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so
much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him
for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know
what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to
hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too
often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and
said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" It
wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking
again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but
since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on
it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked
to my desk, very deliberately opened by drawer and took out a roll of
masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore
off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then
returned to the front of the room.

As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did
it!! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's
desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words
were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years
flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was
more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen
carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much
in ninth grade as he had in third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new
concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning,
frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop
this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the
names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving
a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest
thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment,
and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers.
Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a
good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet
of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that
individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long,
the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never
knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so
much." No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew
if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't
matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were
happy with themselves and one another again. That group of students
moved on.

Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me
at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual
questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general.
There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways
glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he
usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last
night," he began.
"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how
Mark is." Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he
said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you
could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494
where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked
so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark I
would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to
me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang
"The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day
of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor
said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who
loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy
water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one
of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's
math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the
coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's
farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously
waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said,
taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was
killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he
carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously
been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that
the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each
of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing
that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather
sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of
my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our
wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her
wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry
this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I
think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all
his friends who would never see him again.

****************************
The purpose of this letter is to encourage everyone to compliment the
people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance
of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things,
could mean the most to another.

--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
431 S. Burnside Ave. #12 B
Los Angeles CA 90036
(323)936-8476
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/