.As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a grave side service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Texas back-country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost; and being a typical man I didn't stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played 'Amazing Grace,' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head hung low my heart was full.
As I was opening the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "Sweet Mother of Jesus, I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
In a transatlantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse whenone wing is struck by lightning. One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she stands up in the front of the plane, “I’m too young to die!” she wails. Then she yells, “Well, if I am going to die, I want my last minutes on Earth to be memorable! I’ve had plenty of sex in my life, but no one has ever made me feel like a woman! I’ve had it! Is there ANYONE on the plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?!”
For a moment there is silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril, and they all stare riveted at the desperate woman in front of the plane. Then, a man stands up in the rear of the plane. “I can make you feel like a woman,” he says. He’s gorgeous — tall, built with long, flowing balck hair and jet black eyes. He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.
No one moves.
The woman is breathing heavily in anticipation as the stranger approaches. He removes his shirt. Muscles ripple across his chest as he reaches her, and he extends the arm holding his shirt to the trembling woman and whispers: “Iron this.”