Humor 1/24/00: Boss' Mistakes & Tommy's Story

Hi everyone,

On Saturday some friends from church and I had hot pot for dinner and
then split up into three groups to go watch a movie. One went to Galaxy
Quest, another went to Stuart Little and the group I went with watched
Mansfield Park. We all pretty much liked the movie that we went to.
Mansfield Park is a typical Jane Austen British period romance movie
with subtle humor. I was told that Galaxy Quest is really funny.

This week's recommended website is Googlegear. To celebrate their
launch, they are giving away a free hand scanner, computer speakers and
a nice mouse. You just need to pay for shipping. Here's the website:
http://www.googlegear.com/freescanner.html.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you had to name the most
important invention in history, what would win?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Anna Man, followed by an
inspirational story forwarded by Monica Quock.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

The Boss Does Make Mistakes

Mr. Swiller was known far and wide as a hard-nosed boss who watched his
employees like a hawk. He was making one of his regular tours of the
factory when he spotted a young man leaning against a pile of boxes just
outside the foreman's office.

Since George, the foreman, wasn't around, Swiller stood off to the side
and watched to see just how long the young man would stand around doing
nothing.

The young man yawned, scratched his head, looked at his watch, and sat
on the floor. He took out a nail file and began cleaning his nails. Then
he stretched, yawned again, and leaned back on the pile of boxes.

Swiller stepped from his hiding place and walked up to the young man.
"You!" he boomed. "How much do you make a week?"

The young man looked up indifferently. "Two hundred and fifty dollars,"
he said.

Swiller swooped into the cashier's office, took $250 from the cash box,
and returned. "Take it," he said, "and get out! Don't let me see you
around here again!"

The young man took the cash, put it in his pocket, and left.

Swiller snorted at his lack of remorse, embarrassment, or any other
feeling. Then he went looking for George. When he found him, Swiller was
red with anger. "That idler in front of your office," Swiller said. "I
just gave him a week's pay and fired him. What's the matter with you,
letting him stand around as though he had nothing to do?"

"You mean the kid in the red shirt?" George asked.

"Yes! The kid in the red shirt!"

"He was waiting for the twenty dollars we owe him for lunch," George
said. "He works for the coffee shop around the corner."
____________________________

Tommy's Story

John Powell, A Professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a
student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into
the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was
the first day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He
was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his
shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that
long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind
that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on
that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.

I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange . . . very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of
Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about
the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father-God. We lived with
each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was
for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he
asked in a slightly cynical tone: "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very
emphatically.

"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out:
"Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find him, but I am absolutely certain
that he will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my
life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever
line: "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever. Later I
heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report, I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I
could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office,
his body was very badly wasted, and the long hair had all fallen out as
a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was
firm, for the first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick!" I
blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of
weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?"

"Sure, what would you like to know?"

"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty
and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real
'biggies' in life."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had
filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject
by classification God sends back into my life to educate me).

But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, " is something you
said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I
asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which
surprised me. Then you said, 'But he will find you.' I thought about
that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that
time. (My "clever" line. He thought about that a lot!) But when the
doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant,
then I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread
into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the
bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try
anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get
psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile
appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be
there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care . . . about
God, about an afterlife, or anything like that. "I decided to spend
what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about
you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: 'The
essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be
almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever
telling those you loved that you had loved them.'" So I began with the
hardest one: my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached
him."

"Dad". . .

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean.... It's really important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that." Tom smiled at me
and said with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret
joy flowing inside of him: "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then
my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before.
He cried and he hugged me.

And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next
morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to
feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me. "It was easier with my
mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each
other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the
things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry
about one thing: that I had waited so long. Here I was just beginning
to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me
when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding
out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through.' 'C'mon, I'll give you three days
...three weeks.'

Apparently God does things in his own way and at his own hour. "But the
important thing is that he was there. He found me. You were right. He
found me even after I stopped looking for him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very
important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least,
you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make him a
private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time
of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said
that. He said God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with
God and God is living in him.' Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know,
when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can
make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of
Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them
the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell
them."

"Oooh . . . I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your
class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tommy called, said he was ready for the class, that he
wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However,
he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than
the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended
by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into
vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever
seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever
imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to
your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple
statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy,
somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven: "I told them, Tommy .

. . as best I could."

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or
two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/