Lend A Helping Hand To Others Quotes

When we feel fractured, redundant and nonessential, only bouncing back from lowliness may brighten up the story of our life. In this endeavor, “otherness” might lend a helping hand in making the road less parching. (“He did not know that she knew”)

It seems a peculiar thing when I go to fill my own cup; it remains empty as if the liquid evaporates as soon as it touches the glass. Yet when I reach to top off the cups of others, my own spills over. This is the crazy magic of charity.

Help your fellow humans thrive and survive, contribute your little bit to the universe before it swallows you up, and be happy with that. Lend a hand to others. Be strong for them, and it will make you stronger.

The bonds between people had to be a narcotic. You unwittingly became dependent all the while your heart deteriorates inside out. And then you ended up needing to rely on others and you eventually become unable to do things by yourself. Then, was it possible that by intending to lend a hand to people that I was actually making them suffer instead? Was I giving birth to people who couldn’t stand on their own two feet unless they had help from someone? Even though we were supposed to teach them how to catch fish and not give them one. Something that could be easily given to someone was surely a fake. Something that could easily be given away was surely something that could easily be taken away by someone.

We have to realize that we are a powerful force. If we work together, we can make a huge difference in the world, despite our race or religion. If we, as women, dare to come together we can help each other conquer our fears. We can help each other become wiser by teaching and learning from each other. We need to lift each other up more. Reach down to lend a helping hand. Reach up and tell your sisters of all races and religions, “I am here for you.” After all of the sacrifices we’ve made for others, surely, we can make sacrifices for each other. As much as we women have loved (and most definitely lost) due to heartbreak, being unappreciated, and working hard on a daily basis, why do we put each other down? Why do we use each other? What is the point in competing? Don’t we have enough going against us as it is? We should be able to come together and love one another. We should be able to help each other recover from our losses. That is what I call a powerful force.

The behaviour of the English people I had run into was making it very difficult to nail down a theory that the reason my trip so far had been such a bizarre success, was that Irish people were crazy. One Englishman had spent a morning on the telephone trying to organise a helicopter to take me out to an island, when a boat was leaving only a few yards away, and here was another, making a two-hour round trip for no reason other than to lend a helping hand. Two of the more eccentric pieces of behaviour hadn't been performed by the Irish, but by my fellow countrymen. However, both Andy and Tony had embraced wholeheartedly a love of the Irish way of living life.

You won't find Christ in the church - you won't find Krishna in the temple - you won't find Jehovah in the synagogue - you won't find Allah in the mosque - the only place they reside is in the humans. Lend a hand to a human in misery and it'll be the highest service to the lord.

Sometimes when a person is not being heard, it is appropriate to blame him or her. Perhaps he or she is speaking obscurely; perhaps he is claiming too much; perhaps she is speaking rather too personally. And one can, perhaps, charge Spielrein on all three counts. But, on balance, her inability to win recognition for her insight into repression was not her fault; it was Freud’s and Jung’s. Preoccupied with their own theories, and with each other, the two men simply did not pause even to take in the ideas of this junior colleague let alone to lend a helping hand in finding a more felicitous expression for her thought. More ominously still, both men privately justified their disregard by implicitly casting her once more into the role of patient, as though that role somehow precluded a person from having a voice or a vision of his or her own. It was and remains a damning comment on how psychoanalysis was evolving that so unfair a rhetorical maneuver, one so at odds with the essential genius of the new therapeutic method, came so easily to hand. In the great race between Freud and Jung to systematize psychoanalytic theory, to codify it once and for all, a simpler truth was lost sight of: Sometimes a person is not heard because she is not listened to.

What's the point of all that power if it doesn't help the people - what's the point of all that life if it doesn't help the people!

Someone has to stand up to lift the world up.

Reach out to lend a hand, not to bend a heart.

When another being is in pain, Only blasphemy is indifference. If we can't be cure to each other, It's not life, but derangement.

Just people taking care of people - that's the simple gospel for a happy, healthy and prosperous living.

Give your shoes to those who have none, walk in another's shoes whenever you can.

If you're trying to serve someone in need and it doesn't hurt a little, you're doing something wrong. Sure, it's nice to lend a helping hand, but true compassion causes your heart to break - even at the moment you're helping... When people say the only reason to help the less fortunate is so you can feel better about yourself, I laugh. Those people obviously have never lived among the poor, the destitute, the heartbroken. They have never put themselves out there and truly suffered with someone in pain. This idea that philanthropy is self-medication is not true; in fact, it's so outrageous that it's laughable. If you're really helping someone in pain - if you're really experiencing compassion - you can't help but hurt too. This is the litmus test for those aspiring to make a difference in others' lives: Do we feel cheery about the work we're doing, or does it hurt a little, maybe even a lot? If the latter, you're on the right track.

Lord, help me to always remember that I represent you. Help me to be kind to others and show compassion. Help me to be patient with others and give people grace. Order my steps so that I am cautious to judge and eager to support, love, and lend a helping hand whenever and wherever I can. Amen.

But if you could just pay her some small attention-or better yet, escort her yourself-it would be ever so helpful, and I would be grateful forever.” “Alex, if you were married to anyone but Jordan Townsende, I might consider asking you how you’d be willing to express your gratitude. However, since I haven’t any real wish to see my life brought to a premature end, I shall refrain from doing so and say instead that your smile is gratitude enough.” “Don’t joke, Roddy, I’m quite desperately in need of your help, and I would be eternally grateful for it.” “You are making me quake with trepidation, my sweet. Whoever she is, she must be in a deal of trouble if you need me.” “She’s lovely and spirited, and you will admire her tremendously.” “In that case, I shall deem it an embarrassing honor to lend my support to her. Who-“ His gaze flicked to a sudden movement in the doorway and riveted there, his eternally bland expression giving way to reverent admiration. “My God,” he whispered. Standing in the doorway like a vision from heaven was an unknown young woman clad in a shimmering silver-blue gown with a low, square neckline that offered a tantalizing view of smooth, voluptuous flesh, and a diagonally wrapped bodice that emphasized a tiny waist. Her glossy golden hair was swept back off her forehead and held in place with a sapphire clip, then left to fall artlessly about her shoulders and midway down her back, where it ended in luxurious waves and curls that gleamed brightly in the dancing candlelight. Beneath gracefully winged brows and long, curly lashes her glowing green eyes were neither jade nor emerald, but a startling color somewhere in between. In that moment of stunned silence Roddy observed her with the impartiality of a true connoisseur, looking for flaws that others would miss and finding only perfection in the delicately sculpted cheekbones, slender white throat, and soft mouth. The vision in the doorway moved imperceptibly. “Excuse me,” she said to Alexandra with a melting smile, her voice like wind chimes, “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.” In a graceful swirl of silvery blue skirts she turned and vanished, and still Roddy stared at the empty doorway while Alexandra’s hopes soared. Never had she seen Roddy display the slightest genuine fascination for a feminine face and figure. His words sent her spirits even higher: “My God,” he said again in a reverent whisper. “Was she real?” “Very real,” Alex eagerly assured him, “and very desperately in need of your help, though she mustn’t know what I’ve asked of you. You will help, won’t you?” Dragging his gaze from the doorway, he shook his head as if to clear it. “Help?” he uttered dryly. “I’m tempted to offer her my very desirable hand in marriage!

And the good, good people of the small town of Golgotha, many of them, when they saw the Stained, saw what they did to those they caught up to; they forgot to love their neighbor, forgot to lend a helping hand, forgot to do unto others as they would have them do unto themselves. They ran, ran like animals frightened by the storm. Pushing, shoving, the weak, the innocent, the frail, all falling under their feet. Many of the souls Golgotha called, called to across the desert, across the plains and the oceans and the night sky, many of them were not good people.

Studying the history of our ancestors is instructive. I understand some of my parents’ struggles and sacrifices. I am acquainted with my grandparents and great grandparents’ way of life. The common denominator that runs through their lifeblood is a hardpan of resiliency, courage, and work ethic. They also shared a phenomenal degree of competency essential to make due in an open land where the pioneering spirit meets nature under a big sky full of endless possibilities for triumph and setback. My forebears took care of their family members and tended their ancestral land before the word caretaker was a recognized term for a loving man, woman, or child. Self-reliant people who master the skills essential for survival in a harsh clime also value helping other people who are in a fix. All my predecessors were quick to lend a hand to a neighbor in need. Their ability to see life through the heart was the decisive feature of their pioneering pluck. How we start a day, presages how the day shall unfold. Each day when I awaken, I feel clobbered by the preceding day. At days end, I feel comparable to a chewed on piece of masticated beef. I devote all available personal energy reserves to simply getting by and muss over how I can engender the energy to make it through today’s pulp works. In reality, I go on because akin to every generation that preceded me and every generation that succeeds me, I must continue onward or I will expire. The one fact that keeps me going is the realization that all generations of people struggle. What we share with preceding generations is our heartaches and our willingness to struggle in order to make the world a better place for the next generation.

Raquel laughed, and David joined her. They sounded slightly manic. “You’re free now,” he said. “Of all of it,” she answered, and I looked up to see them locked in a gaze I’d previously only observed between actors on Easton Heights—one filled with all the things unspoken over the years, all the betrayals and fears and pain left behind in favor of overwhelming love. It was beautiful. Oh, who am I kidding, it was awkward as all heck and I didn’t have time for it. “Okay! So, you may have noticed Lend is in the kitchen.” “Mmm hmm,” Raquel answered, reaching up to smooth down a stray piece of David’s hair. “Yeah, that’d be the big faerie curse.” “Farie curse?” She actually turned toward me; David took both her hands in his. “Yup. Really funny one, too. See, any time Lend and I are in the same room or can see each other or could actually, you know, touch, he falls fast asleep.” “Oh,” Raquel frowned. “So I need your help. You know all the names of the IPCA controlled faeries, right?” She nodded, her frown deepening. “Well, it was a dark faerie curse, so I figure we need a dark faerie to undo it. So you call an Unseelie faerie, we give him or her a named command to break the curse, ta-da, we can double-date!” “Wait, who can double-date?” Lend asked. “I’ll let your dad tell you. So. Faerie?” Raquel heaved a sigh, along the lines of her famous things never get easier, do they? sign, and, boy, I agreed with her. “To be honest, I don’t know which court most of the faeries belong to.” “You don’t? How can you not know? It seems like pretty vital information to me. You know, ‘Are you a member of the evil court kidnapping humans and plotting world domination, or a member of the moderately less evil court who just wants to get the crap off the planet?’ sort of a survey when you get them.

This, then, is the end for which I strive, to attain to such a character myself, and to endeavor that many should attain to it with me. In other words, it is part of my happiness to lend a helping hand, that many others may understand even as I do, so that their understanding and desire may entirely agree with my own. In order to bring this about, it is necessary to understand as much of nature as will enable us to attain to the aforesaid character, and also to form a social order such as is most conducive to the attainment of this character by the greatest number with the least difficulty and danger.

Raquel? You coming?” “I honestly never thought I would see the light of day again.” “Aww, come on. With me on your side? Of course things worked out.” She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Thank you, Evie.” I threw my arms around her in a hug. “You don’t have to thank me.” “I really do. You wonderful girl. I’ve missed you so much.” “Well, now that we’re both unemployed fugitives, think of how much time we’ll have to hang out!” She laughed drily, and we walked with our arms around each other to the house. I opened the door and yelled, “Evie alert! Coming into the family room!” “You made it!” Lend shouted back. “Just a sex, I’ll go to the kitchen. Raquel’s with you?” “Yup!” “Good job! Jack and Arianna got back a couple of minutes ago.” I walked into the family room to find Arianna and Jack sitting on the couch, arguing. “But here would have been no point to you being there if it hadn’t been for my computer prowess.” “But your computer prowess wouldn’t have mattered if you couldn’t have gotten into the Center in the first place.” “Being a glorified taxi does not make you the bigger hero.” “Being a nerd who can tap on a keyboard or being able to navigate the dark eternities of the Faerie Paths . . . hmmm . . . which is a rarer and more valuable skill . . .” I put my hands on my hips. “Okay, kids, take it elsewhere. Raquel and I have work to do.” “Evie,” Raquel said. She was staring at Jack in horror. “Oh, that.” I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s all good. Jack’s been helping us.” “Don’t you remember how he tried to kill you?” Jack rolled his eyes. “Boring. We’ve all moved on.” “Really?” “Not really,” I said. “But he’s behaving. And everyone needs a glorified taxi now and then.” “Admit it: you all adore me.” Jack bowed dramatically as he left the room. Arianna smiled tightly at Raquel and left after him. Raquel collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes. “You’re working with Reth and Jack? Have you lost your mind?” “Oh, that happened ages ago. But I’ve had to do a lot of rescuing lately, and those two come in handy.” “Do you trust them?” “No, we don’t,” Lend called from the kitchen.

It’s okay,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’s okay. You guys stay back here. Try to help the others. I can’t let her hurt anyone else. She won’t leave until she gets me.” “You,” Lend whispered, then looked at Reth. “Something unspoken passed between them. “Keep her safe,” Lend said fiercely. Reth nodded. “Always.” Lend leaned forward and smashed his lips into mine, kissing me desperately, then pulled away. “I love you,” he said, his glamour melting off so it was him, just him for a heartbeat, and I got ready to stand and be lost forever. Then he replaced his water self with: Me. “No!” I screamed, but Reth wrapped his arms around me and traced one finger down my throat, freezing my voice. I screamed and screamed, ripping my throat to shreds but no sound came out. Lend-as-me stood up, lifting both hands in the air. “I’m coming,” my voice said. “Stop.” He walked out from behind the counter and I couldn’t see him and she’d kill him and I’d lose him forever and I couldn’t live in a world where he wasn’t. I kicked against the counter as hard as I could, trying to force Reth to let me go, but his arms weren’t flesh, they were permanent, there was no give. I slammed my head back into his chest again and again, but then I felt more than heard her faerie door closing as the air thinned again and I knew it was over and my world had been destroyed. Lend was gone, and it was my fault. I slammed my head against Reth again in rage; he pulled me closer and said, in a voice tender and sad, “Sleep.

Human Error lies in judgment. While many will say that it's wrong to judge, one cannot survive in the light or the darkness without equipping the ability to judge. One must judge their morality. One must judge their potentiality. One must judge their actuality. One must judge their life. One must judge their very existence. What happens when God no longer lends a helping a hand? What happens when God longer judges you? Only you can be the arbiter of your own existence. However, you will have to judge. So let me ask you, what's the difference between judging the subjective reality that one exists in, and judging the value of the subjective reality of another? The only difference lies is the sameness of one conception...judgment. So tell me, is it wrong to judge others, when your very existence depends on you judging reality for validity?

A Remarkable Woman She is so exquisite Even without make-up on her face She is very special Even if she lets others seem important She is selfless Even when the selfish surround her She offers a lot of love Even so, she needs it often She has a big heart Even though she appears small She lets others belong But she longs to be appreciated She adds value Despite her own worth being undermined She is attentive Nonetheless; no one pays attention to her needs She is patient No matter how long it takes, she waits She is giving While no one could be willing to give She is forgiving Much as the worst was done against her She is trusting Albeit her trust was broken a countless times She is wise In spite of being treated otherwise by some She works hard Notwithstanding that she requires to rest She is helpful Yet, there is none to lend her a hand She makes life seem easy Whilst going through difficult times herself She stands by others Although there is no one to stand by her She chooses to be peaceful Against being somehow provoked She is calm Undeterred by what is not She is bold In defiance of tough battles ahead She shows bravery Still in the presence of adversity She is fearless Though she may seem helpless She is spirited Contrary to attempts to bring her down She is never destroyed Irrespective of storms she faces sometimes She keeps moving forward Granting the hindrances along the way She does not look down on others Regardless of some doing so to her She recognizes those who shielded her on rainy days Whenever the sun shines upon her She keeps on running her race Because she knows for her, grace is abundant She puts a smile on, always Since prayer keeps her in the right place She is an inspiration A pioneer of transformation True leader of economic revolution How the world aspires for such A remarkable woman!

You coming with us?” “Not this time. I’ve got a different errand to run.” “Okay.” She reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear affectionately. “Be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the worst Spanish student in the history of the language.” I laughed. “No probelmo.” By the time I found Reth, he was deep in discussion with the banshees, their discordant voices chiding him for something or other. I hated to pull him away from getting chewed out, but it had to be done. Another faeries, all spring and mint green, was with him. After briefly explaining about the location of the dancers, she left to retrieve them. I wanted to send Reth because I trusted him more, but he didn’t look good. I’d keep him with me so I could keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t ask for help—not from anyone—but I’d be there no matter what. When we got back to the house, Lend was already there with several grocery bags full of bread. Reth turned his head away as though the very sight of it was distasteful. “Even the food of this world is nothing but decay.” Clearly he had never tried pizza, because honestly. We linked hands—my ex-boyfriend, my boyfriend, and my former friend-then-enemy-then-friend and I—and walked through a door to see if maybe empty carbs were good for something after all.

Okay,” I said, looking up to find the gate in the stars. I lifted a hand, only to have it jerked violently down. “What are you doing?” Reth hissed. “I’m making the gate!” “Not that one.” His eyes were wide with—fear? “Why are you so scared of that gate?” He looked to the side, deliberately avoiding staring at the stars. “Because that is . . . that is another part of eternity. It’s not ours.” I frowned. “But I sent the other souls there.” “Yes, and without bodies they were ready to go there. But I am not, nor will I ever be.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Ooh, poor little Reth, are you scared of what happens after you die?” His voice and face were shockingly sincere, his skin pallid and his lips nearly blue. “More than anything. I have no desire to discover that realm of eternity. None of us do, which is why we need that gate. Myself most desperately. Now, please.” I looked back up at the stars, trying to figure out if I was scared of that gate or not. And, strangely enough, I discovered I wasn’t. It was like Lend and I had talked about—no one could say when they were going to die. You did the best with the time you had, filled it with people and things you loved, and hoped that whatever came after was as good or better. I was finally okay with this whole finite mortality thing. “Alright, you big pansy. I’ll figure out the other one.

Closing her eyes, she fit the violin under her chin, and set the bow to the strings. Faith had never been as blind as this. The first thing that came to mind was the sound of her fingers breaking. Her life, as she knew it, dying. The shock and the pain of it, and the utter devastation. They’ve killed me, she thought. So she played it. Next came the memory of warm, strong hands reaching for hers in the darkness. The unknown clasping her fingers, healing her, lending her strength and reassurance. It was the only thing in the world when she had nothing. It had been her lifeline. And she played it. Then came trust, the tentative unfurling, when she believed against all evidence that the person who came to her in the darkness would help her in any way he could. The impossibly intense adventure of his arm, sliding around her shoulders. The miracle of warmth when she had known nothing but coldness. That first kiss, oh, the surprise of it! The agonizing uncertainty… was it all right to allow this? How could it feel so incredibly good? Could she possibly kiss him again? Oh, when could she kiss him again? The burning that took hold, the incandescent light that shone despite all the shadows stacked around them. The unbearable, delicious hunger that was the sweetest pain… that she would give anything, anything, if only she could feel it again… Always before, when she had played, she’d had the awareness of the violin and the bow as instruments in her craft. Her music had been self-conscious, aware. Now, as she played, she went somewhere she had never gone before. She lost awareness of the violin altogether. She became the music. She was the story, the vibration. She became the story of love, the notes written in kisses and caresses on her skin. She felt the symphony, the swelling highs in the lifts, and the terrible lows in the falls, and hope was the cruelest note of all, the devastation that came afterward, utterly intolerable. She poured it all out, all the emotion, the experience, the exquisite delight along with the terror. There was no hiding any of it from a god anyway. The only other being she had been so naked with was Morgan, and he was gone. Gone, while the love she felt for him had become the very breath of life to her. Give him back to me, she begged with her music. Give him back. When the last note speared through the air, she had nothing left to give.

We are all following dreams and visions; we who are cursed and graced by this fire called hope. However, I will not be a slave to dreams and visions; I will lead myself. I am strong and I am a singularity. I am a builder of self, in wisdom, body and spirit. I have the faith to believe in and cast judgment upon myself.   I will stand the line between the light and the darkness. I will master myself for as long as I am lost in the gray.   Those unwilling to stand the line should know: if you should find you have not the strength to judge your own heart, I will not be there to help you. If you fall weak and succumb to despair, I will not save you and lend you my hand. If you are maligned by evil, and fear the darkness may overcome you, it is only you that can stand amid that darkness and become its master. You have within you the potential to reach your salvation. Find your purpose and do not rest until it burns within you like a fire. We all must have the strength and courage to pass judgment upon this world and upon ourselves. We can only be in harmony and free from each other once we are all accountable.   But remember, if you allow your weakness to pollute a world inhabited by others, you may find yourself standing alone in shadow. Those you have wronged may face you, and you may see their eyes go red.   I go forth with my love, knowing nothing can stop me now. I have judged this world, I have judged myself, and I have found my purpose…

Selah! I don’t wander aimlessly these days. I am aware of my destination and I seek to follow precisely. My loved ones are right beside me and we’re trudging happily. So of you see me, take the time to hail me up. My love and blessings are trudging along too and as we pass each other I will impart all on you. I take the time to lend a helping hand to the stranger, drop a dollar for the homeless and offer food to the hungry, cause I’m only coming this way once, and I’m trudging happily along. ~~~Sonia Valencia Singh 04/08/2014~~~

Serve Him We know we love God’s children if we love God and obey his commandments. 1 John 5:2 NLT The teachings of Jesus are clear: We achieve greatness through service to others. But, as weak human beings, we sometimes fall short as we seek to puff ourselves up and glorify our own accomplishments. Jesus commands otherwise. He teaches us that the most esteemed men and women are not the self-congratulatory leaders of society but are instead the humblest of servants. Today, you may feel the temptation to build yourself up in the eyes of your neighbors. Resist that temptation. Instead, serve your neighbors quietly and without fanfare. Find a need and fill it…humbly. Lend a helping hand and share a word of kindness…anonymously, for this is God’s way. As a humble servant, you will glorify yourself not before men, but before God, and that’s what God intends. After all, earthly glory is fleeting: here today and all too soon gone. But, heavenly glory endures throughout eternity. So, the choice is yours: Either you can lift yourself up here on earth and be humbled in heaven, or vice versa. Choose vice versa. If you want to discover your spiritual gifts, start obeying God. As you serve Him, you will find that He has given you the gifts that are necessary to follow through in obedience. Anne Graham Lotz We can love Jesus in the hungry, the naked, and the destitute who are dying…If you love, you will be willing to serve. And you will find Jesus in the distressing disguise of the poor. Mother Teresa Doing something positive toward another person is a practical approach to feeling good about yourself. Barbara Johnson God wants us to serve Him with a willing spirit, one that would choose no other way. Beth Moore In the very place where God has put us, whatever its limitations, whatever kind of work it may be, we may indeed serve the Lord Christ. Elisabeth Elliot I am more and more persuaded that all that is required of us is faithful seed-sowing. The harvest is bound to follow. Annie Armstrong

Farren was always putting others before herself, always lending a helping hand and giving her last, but damn, who gave their last to her? Who looked out for her?

LIFE IS A JOURNEY Life on earth is a JOURNEY where the only certainty is the final STOP: DEATH. But as we journey on towards DEATH, we can create little STOPS along the way, These STOPS can give us a sense of purpose in life, something to work towards to, something to aim for, But let’s not get hung up with these stops ‘cos not all stops are what we expect them to be, For every stop that meets our expectations, there are many other stops that can be disappointing, Just like running towards the next bus-stop to get away from the rain only to find out that there is no shelter or someone has vandalised the shelter, So instead of getting all fixed up on the stops, focus on the JOURNEY, Enjoy the JOURNEY and stop whenever you feel like stopping to enjoy and savour the moment, And lend a helping hand to someone along the JOURNEY, For the stops and destinations are not as important as the JOURNEY itself.

The next morning, Steve took his boat out and saw what had happened. The big male had triggered the trap and was snared in the mesh--sort of. Even though the rectangular-shaped net was the biggest he had, the croc’s tail and back leg stuck out. But the black ghost had finally been caught. At Steve’s approach, the animal thrashed wildly, smashing apart mangrove trees on either side of the trap. Steve tried to top-jaw-rope the croc, but it was fighting too violently. Normally Chilli acted as a distraction, giving Steve the chance to secure the croc. But the dog wanted no part of this. She cowered on the floor of the dinghy, unwilling to face this monstrously large croc. Steve was truly on his own. He finally secured a top-jaw rope and tied the other end to a tree. With a massive “death roll”--a defensive maneuver in which the reptile spins its enormous body--the big croc smashed the tree flat and snapped it off. Steve tried again; the croc thrashed, growling and roaring in protest at the trapper in khaki, lunging again and again to tear Steve apart. Finally, the giant croc death-rolled so violently that he came off the bank and landed in the boat, which immediately sank. Chilli had jumped out and was swimming for shore as Steve worked against time. With the croc underwater, Steve lashed the croc, trap and all, in the dinghy. But moving the waterlogged boat and a ton of crocodile was simply too much. Steve sprinted several miles in the tropical heat to reach a cane farm, where he hoped to get help. The cane farmers were a bit hesitant to lend a hand, so Steve promised them a case of beer, and a deal was made. With a sturdy fishing boat secured to each side of Steve’s dinghy, they managed to tow it downriver where they could winch croc and boat onto dry land to get him into a crate. By this time, a crowd of spectators had gathered. When Steve told me the story of the capture, I got the sense that he felt sorry he had to catch the crocodile at all. “It seemed wrong to remove the king of the river,” Steve said. “That croc had lasted in his territory for decades. Here I was taking him out of it. The local people just seemed relieved, and a couple even joked about how many boots he’d make.” Steve was very clever to include the local people and soon won them over to see just how special this crocodile really was. Just as he was dragged into his crate, the old croc attempted a final act of defiance, a death roll that forced Steve to pin him again. “I whispered to him to calm him down,” Steve said. “What did you say to him?” I asked. “Please don’t die.” The black crocodile didn’t die. Steve brought him back to Beerwah, named him Acco, and gave him a beautiful big pond that Bob had prepared, with plenty of places to hide. We were in the Crocodile Environmental Park at the zoo when Steve first told me the story of Acco’s capture. I just had to revisit him after hearing his story. There he was, the black ghost himself, magnificently sunning on the bank of his billabong.

On the odyssey of kindness will the fabric of civilization unfold.

Being kind to the stranger, is far more religious than listening and preaching "love thy neighbor" - lending a hand to a person stuck in misery to deliver some peace in their life, is far more holy, than repeating a thousand times "peace be upon Mohammed".

Those who lend a helping hand, instead of judging the actions of others, are valuable.

Neighborhoods are wailing in fear and desperation. If now we don’t lend a hand what's the point of us!

It is a promise that I ask of you - a promise that no matter the time and age you'll never lose sight of your humanity - you'll never be too immersed in your own comfort to help out those in misery around you. If you can make this promise, not to me mark you but to yourself, then I'll know that I've achieved absolution.

She awakened with a start to find Macon standing at the foot of the bed, watching her with a grin stretched across his face. His finger and thumb still lingered on her big toe. Stunned, she scooted toward the headboard, as if it could lend her some protection, her eyes wide. Steven’s .45 was in the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed. She inched in that direction. “What are you doing here?” she croaked. Macon dragged his eyes over her lush figure, her sleep-rumpled underthings made of the thinnest lawn, and smiled. “You might say I’ve come to admire the spoils. It won’t be long now, Emma, dear. Things are going very badly for Steven. Soon you’ll be giving me fine, redheaded sons. Of course, I won’t be able to keep you here at Fairhaven—that would be indiscreet. We’ll have to get you a place in town.” Emma tried to shield her breasts with one arm as she moved nearer and nearer the side of the bed. “You’re vile, Macon Fairfax, and I’d sooner die than let you touch me. Now, get out of here before I scream!” “You can scream all you want,” he chuckled, spreading his hands wide of his lithe body. “There’s nobody here but the servants, and they wouldn’t dream of interfering, believe me.” Emma swallowed hard. She couldn’t be sure whether he was bluffing; after all, this was Macon’s house as well as Cyrus’s. If he gave instructions, they were probably obeyed. “Get out,” she said again. Her hand was on the knob of the nightstand drawer, but she knew she wasn’t going to have time to get the pistol out and aim it before Macon was on her. He was too close, and his eyes showed that he knew exactly what she meant to do. “It won’t be so bad, Emma,” he coaxed, his voice a syrupy croon by then. “I know how to make you happy, and you’re in just the right place for me to prove it.” “Don’t touch me,” Emma breathed, shrinking back against the headboard, her eyes wide with horror. “Steven will kill you if you touch me!” “You wouldn’t tell him.” Macon was standing over her by then, looking down into her face. She could see a vein pulsing at his right temple as he set his jaw for a moment. “You’d keep it to yourself because he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of winning this case if he assaulted me in a fit of rage—would he?” Emma’s heart was thundering against her ribs and she was sure she was going to throw up. She tried to move away from Macon, but he reached out and grasped her hard by the hair. “Please,” she whispered. He indulged in a small, tight smile. “Don’t humiliate yourself by begging, darling. It won’t save you. Keep your pleas for those last delicious moments before pleasure overtakes you.” Bile rushed into the back of Emma’s throat. “Let me go.” He pressed her flat against the mattress, his hand still entangled in her hair. She gazed up at him in terror, unable to speak at all. The crash of the door against the inside wall startled them both. Emma’s eyes swung to the doorway, and so did Macon’s. Nathaniel was standing there, still dressed in the suit he’d worn to Steven’s trial, his tie loose, his Fairfax eyes riveted on his cousin’s face. In his shaking hand was a derringer, aimed directly at Macon’s middle. “Let her go,” he said furiously. Macon released Emma, but only to shrug out of his coat and hang it casually over the bedpost. “Get out of here, Nathaniel,” he said, sounding as unconcerned as if he were about to open a book or pour himself a drink. “This is business for a man, not a boy.” Emma was breathing hard, her eyes fixed on Nathaniel, pleading with him. With everything in her, she longed to dive for the other side of the bed and run for her life, but she knew she wouldn’t escape Macon. Not without Nathaniel’s help. “I won’t let you hurt her,” the boy said with quiet determination. The derringer, wavering before, was steady now. Macon

Today Chanya is kikiat and won’t be doing any work of any kind. Kikiat is usually translated as “lazy,” which is misleading because of the disfavor into which this vital component of mental health has fallen in the work-frenzied Occident; over here kikiat is not a fault so much as a frank statement of the human condition. To fail to lend a helping hand because you have something more important to do may provoke anger in others, but to fail to perform a chore because you are feeling kikiat will, in all but the most extreme circumstances, meet with an understanding sigh; indeed, the word itself has a kind of pandemic effect, so that one person declaring themselves kikiat can cause a whole office to slow down. You may spend a lot of time over here, DFR, learn our customs, know our history better than we do ourselves, and even speak our language, but until you have penetrated to the very heart of indolence and learned to savor its subtle joy, you cannot claim really to have arrived. Naturally,

Lengthy sentences like these lend themselves to emotions that are lower-energy, such as contentment, nostalgia, or wonder. Short sentences, on the other hand, often best express high-energy emotions: fear, anxiety, anger, impatience, excitement, etc.

Hands joined in prayer ain't no divinity, hands stretched in help are true divinity.

Sulloway (1996, 2011) proposed that the adaptive problems imposed by parents on children will create different “niches” for children, depending on their birth order. Specifically, because parents often favor the oldest child, the firstborn tends to be relatively more conservative and more likely to support the status quo. Second-borns, however, have little to gain by supporting the existing structure and everything to gain by rebelling against it. Later-borns, especially middle-borns, according to Sulloway, develop a more rebellious personality because they have the least to gain by maintaining the existing order; studies of birth order and personality confirm this prediction (Healey & Ellis, 2007). The youngest, on the other hand, might receive more parental investment than middle children, as parents often let out all the stops to invest in their final direct reproductive vehicle. Salmon and Daly (1998) find support for these predictions. They discovered that middle-borns differ from first- and last-borns in scoring lower on measures of family solidarity and identity. Middle-borns, for example, are less likely to name a genetic relative as the person to whom they feel closest. They are also less likely to assume the role of family genealogist. Middle-borns, compared to firstborns and last-borns, are less positive in attitudes toward their families and less likely to help a family member who needs help (Salmon, 2003). These and other results (Salmon, 1999) lend some support to Sulloway’s theory that birth order affects the niches a person selects. Firstborns are more likely to feel solidarity with parents and perceive them as dependable, whereas middle-borns appear more likely to invest in bonds outside of the family. Interestingly, middle-born children might receive less total investment from parents even if parents treat all their children equally (Hertwig, Davis, & Sulloway, 2002). This result occurs because firstborns receive all of their parents’ investments early in life before other children are born and last-borns receive all of their parents’ investments after all other children leave the house. Middle-borns, in contrast, must share their parents’ investments, because there is rarely a time when other siblings are not around. Even when parents strive to invest equally in their children, middle-borns end up on the short end of the stick—perhaps accounting for why middle-borns are less identified with their families (Hertwig et al., 2002).

Secure Man VS Vulnerable Man A secure man is someone who can identify their own weaknesses and improve. He can accept his flaws and maintain his self esteem. He knows his journey is never over, so he always strives for more. He lends strength to others needing a helping hand. He prefers to take the hard right over the easy wrong. He can handle constructive criticism without bitterness. He can provide for himself and his family. He can set goals for himself knowing one day he can achieve them. He is a multitasker. He doesn't make decisions just for the moment; He makes decisions that he knows will benefit and effect his whole life. If this man makes a mistake he will hold himself responsible and correct his mistake. He has confidence in himself and holds no one else accountable for his happiness and/or peace of mind. A sincere understanding of empathy for others, a sense of humility, and humbleness are reinforcing characteristics of this man. A secure man has faith in the Lord. A vulnerable man is someone who depends on others. He can not accomplish routine tasks or deliver on his own. He is always asking for a helping hand and has little or no self esteem. He lives for the moment without a life plan. He doesn't set lifetime goals. A vulnerable man is either too arrogant and ignorant to notice when somebody is trying to help him, so he rebels against those closest to him. A vulnerable man gets angry when things doesn't go his way. He doesn't only complain, he also complains about what others aren't doing for him. He can't provide for himself or others. You can never go to him for advice or will he extend a hand of help to others without wanting something in return. A vulnerable man can not make a decision and lives a reactive life instead of a proactive one. He knows right from wrong...but still decides to go the wrong way because it's the easiest. A vulnerable man seeks an enabler one who will bail them out time and time again. Others notices his individual weaknesses...However he chooses a life of denial and deflection. This man believes it is always someone else's fault and feels entitled to others hard work and efforts. A vulnerable man has no faith in a higher power and thinks he'll never have to answer for the choices made in their life.-27 September 2012-

It is human nature to shed tears in agony, but taking pain to wipe another's tear is humanity.

It’s not about whether good things happen to you, but whether you're a force for good to another.

I'll put it to you in simple words. If you can give your hand to some, it doesn’t matter whether you are handsome.

Reach out to someone who has no one, and tell them - ben buradayım, her zaman burada olacağım - I'm here, I'll always be here.

Be forever ready to help another person.

Doing good in your community means you help out and show up with a positive attitude, lending a hand, you're behind the scenes rolling up your sleeves, and making things happen.

Luit never came out of the anesthesia. He paid dearly for having stood up to two other males, frustrating them by his steep ascent. Those two had been plotting against him in order to take back the power they had lost. The shocking way they did so opened my eyes to how deadly seriously chimpanzees take their politics. Two-against-one maneuvering is what lends chimpanzee power struggles both their richness and their danger. Coalitions are key. No male can rule by himself, at least not for long, because the group as a whole can overthrow anybody. Chimpanzees are so clever about banding together that a leader needs allies to fortify his position as well as the greater community’s acceptance. Staying on top is a balancing act between forcefully asserting dominance, keeping supporters happy, and avoiding mass revolt. If this sounds familiar, it’s because human politics works exactly the same. Before Luit’s death, the Arnhem colony was ruled jointly by Nikkie, a young upstart, and Yeroen, an over-the-hill conniver. Barely adult at seventeen, Nikkie was a brawny character with a dopey expression. He was very determined, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He was supported by Yeroen, who was physically not up to the task of being a leader anymore, yet who wielded enormous influence behind the scenes. Yeroen had a habit of watching disputes unfold from a distance, stepping in only when emotions were flaring to calmly support one side or the other, thus forcing everybody to pay attention to his decisions. Yeroen shrewdly exploited the rivalries among younger and stronger males. Without going into the complex history of this group, it was clear that Yeroen hated Luit, who had wrested power from him years before. Luit had defeated Yeroen in a struggle that had taken three hot summer months of daily tensions involving the entire colony. The next year, Yeroen had gotten even by helping Nikkie dethrone Luit. Ever since, Nikkie had been the alpha male with Yeroen as his right-hand man. The two became inseparable. Luit was unafraid of either one of them alone. In one-on-one encounters in the night cages, Luit dominated every other male in the colony, taking away their food or chasing them around. No single one of them could possibly have kept him in his place. This meant that Yeroen and Nikkie ruled as a team, and only as a team. They did so for four long years. But their coalition eventually began to unravel, and as is not uncommon among men, the divisive issue was sex. Being the kingmaker, Yeroen had enjoyed extraordinary sexual privileges. Nikkie would not let any other males get near the most attractive females, but for Yeroen he had always made an exception. This was part of the deal: Nikkie had the power, and Yeroen got a slice of the sexual pie. This happy arrangement ended only when Nikkie tried to renegotiate its terms. In the four years of his rule, he had grown increasingly self-confident. Had he forgotten who had helped him get to the top? When the young leader began to throw his weight around, interfering with the sexual adventures not only of other males but also of Yeroen himself, things got ugly. Infighting within the ruling coalition went on for months, until one day Yeroen and Nikkie failed to reconcile after a spat. With Nikkie following him around, screaming and begging for their customary embrace, the old fox finally walked away without looking back. He’d had it. Luit filled the power vacuum overnight. The most magnificent chimpanzee male I have known, both in body and spirit, quickly grew in stature as the alpha male. Luit was popular with females, a mighty arbiter of disputes, protector of the downtrodden, and effective at disrupting bonding among rivals in the divide-and-rule tactic typical of both chimp and man. As soon as Luit saw other males together he would either join them or perform a charging display to disband them.

I know how it feels to be broken, that's why all I do is heal, not break - lift, not loath - harmonize, not dehumanize.

When we all lend a hand in helping in the community we improve everyone's quality of life.

A Remarkable Woman She is so exquisite Even without makeup on her face She is very special Even if she lets others seem important She is selfless Even when the selfish surround her She offers a lot of love Even so, she needs it often She has a big heart Even though she appears small She lets others belong But she longs to be appreciated She adds value Despite her worth being undermined She is attentive Nonetheless, no one pays attention to her needs She is patient No matter how long it takes, she waits She is generous While no one could be willing to give She is forgiving Much as the worst was done against her She is trusting Albeit her trust was broken countless times She is wise In spite of being treated otherwise by some She works hard Notwithstanding that she requires rest She is helpful Yet, there is none to lend her a hand She makes life seem easy Whilst going through difficult times herself She stands by others Although there is no one to stand by her She chooses to be peaceful Against being somehow provoked She is calm Undeterred by what is not She is bold In defiance of tough battles ahead She shows bravery Still in the presence of adversity She is fearless Though she may seem helpless She is spirited Contrary to attempts to bring her down She is never destroyed Irrespective of the storms she faces sometimes She keeps moving forward Granting the hindrances along the way She stands in the gap And makes things happen She does not look down on others Regardless of some doing so to her She recognises those who shielded her on rainy days Whenever the sun shines upon her She keeps running her race Because she knows for her, grace is abundant She wears a smile always Since prayer keeps her in the right place She is an inspiration A pioneer of transformation Cheerleader for economic revolution How the world adores such A remarkable woman!

…you stepped back, you squared your shoulders, and you showed you were willing to face what life had dealt you. That takes courage, Margo—much more—than leaping into the void. I had people to turn to. So do we all. It’s only fools and egotists who think no one will be there to lend a hand. And bigger food and bigger egotists who don’t reach out.

Helper is the herald.

Instances in which we’re able to lend a helping hand are always remembered when we die. When the opportunity to extend compassion comes our way, no kind deed is meaningless. Our lives provide opportunities for us to extend compassion unique to what our situations allow, and we must strive to take every chance we can to look out for one another. Our life review doesn’t emphasize the times you spent doing mindless work or distracting yourself, it reflects most the moments where fulfillment could have been increased. Just as we’re faced with what we didn’t do and could’ve done, we enjoy seeing the fruits of our compassionate labor. We see how every act of kindness, particularly selflessness, made the collective a better whole. We realize ourselves as part of the bigger picture, a mere extension of a greater unit. Souls on the other side eventually see the true nature of our existence and its entangled, interwoven nature that unites us.

At an individual level,’ he said, ‘we must all accept personal responsibility for our destiny. Confronting the small challenges that appear every day and taking responsibility for your actions and their consequences is the only way to be ready for the life-defining events.’ Too many people hide from this, he said. ‘There is a temptation to take the easy road, to think that life would be better if we mould it to be as comfortable as possible,’ Craig continued. ‘But there is a real and serious risk in doing this, the risk that we miss the opportunities that present themselves. Missing a chance to lend a hand and help others. A risk of never knowing our own strength and what we are capable of. And we risk that, when we face our test and adversity confronts us, we crumble into a heap and give up instead of standing up.

If you can give your hand to some, it doesn’t matter whether you are handsome.

If every child grows up watching their parents lend a hand to those in need, all suffering will fade within a century.

When you stretch out your hand in love, that's when civilization manifests.

We don't know the sun by how bright it shines, we know it by how bright it makes the world shine. If you want to shine, be the light in someone's life.

What are we? Soldiers of love. Why did we come to existence? To be each other's ladder in life. What are we? Boulders of love. Why did we come to existence? To bulldozer each other's crisis in life.

Leadership is service, not a throne to seize Empowering and uplifting those you lead with ease Each day, ask yourself how you can lend a hand Supporting others, not yourself, is what makes a true command The Queen’s example, a shining light Acknowledging and elevating others, always in her sight Breaking through barriers, supporting good causes Making everyone feel valued, she’s a true leader who never paused Let us all follow in her regal path Celebrating each other’s achievements, no aftermath Age and gender, never to be a limitation We can all make a positive impact on this nation Remember, true leadership is not about fame It’s measured by the success and well-being of your game So lead with service, and watch your people thrive For a true leader empowers, and helps their people to survive.

HACK 021 LEND A HAND You know that volunteering is good for your community. Did you know it’s also good for your brain? Researchers have known for a long time that helping out others makes you feel better. Your

The antisemitism of the Russians surfaced glaringly. It soon became all too clearly apparent that the liberators hated us as much as the Germans did. On the other hand, they needed personnel everywhere: for the army, the coal mines in the Ukraine, workers for the Northern Territory of Murmansk and Pechora, where the lend lease help from the U.S. arrived. Just as in the first week of war, in June 41 when they grabbed men to the armed forces, now they did the same and they took women and girls to go to the Donbas - the coal mines along the Don river, in the Ukraine. This was a very frightening time.

If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

Hayder didn’t bother checking the time when he left the condo. He banged on the closest door and waited with arms crossed, foot tapping. It opened a moment later on a tousled-hair Luna, who scowled. “What do you want?” “A lifetime supply of porterhouse steaks in my freezer.” Like duh. What feline wouldn’t? “Smartass.” “Thank you. I knew those IQ tests I took in college were wrong. But enough of my mental greatness, I need a favor.” “I am not lending you my eighties greatest hits CDs again to use for skeet practice,” she grumbled. “That’s not a favor. That’s just making the world a better place. No, I need you to watch Arabella’s place while I talk to the boss about her situation.” Obviously the rumor mill had been busy because Luna didn’t question what he meant. “You really think those wolves would be stupid enough to try something here?” Luna slapped her forehead. “Duh. Of course they are. Must be something in their processed dog food that inhibits their brain processes.” “One, while I agree that pack is mentally defective, you might want to refrain from calling them dogs or bitches or any other nasty names in the near future.” “Why? Aren’t you the one who coined the phrase ‘ass-licking, eau de toilette fleabags’?” Ah yes, one of his brighter inspirations after a few too many shots of tequila. “Yeah. But that was in the past. If I’m going to be mated to a wolf—” “Whoa there, big guy. Back up. Mated? As in”— Luna hummed the wedding march—“ dum-dum-dum-dum.” Hayder fought not to wince. Knowing he’d found the one and admitting it in such final terms were two different things. “Yes, mated. To Arabella.” “The girl who is allergic to you?” Luna needed the wall to hold her up as she laughed. And laughed. Then cried as she laughed. Irritated, Hayder tapped a foot and frowned. It just made her laugh all the harder. “It isn’t that funny.” “Says you.” Luna snorted, wiping a hand across her eyes to swipe the tears. “Oh, wait until the girls hear this.” “Could we hold off on that? It might help if I got Arabella to agree first.” Which, given her past and state of mind, wasn’t a sure thing. “You’re killing me here, Hayder. This is big news. Real big.” “I’ll let you borrow my treadmill.” Damned thing was nothing more than a clothes rack in his room. Indoor running just couldn’t beat the fresh adrenaline of an outdoor sprint. “Really big news,” she emphasized. He sighed. “Fine. You can borrow my car. But don’t you dare leave any fast food wrappers in it like last time.” “Who, me?” The innocent bat of her lashes didn’t fool him one bit.

Understandably, given public anger at bailouts, support had been gathering from both the right and the left for breaking up the largest institutions. There were also calls to reinstate the Depression-era Glass-Steagall law, which Congress had repealed in 1999. Glass-Steagall had prohibited the combination within a single firm of commercial banking (mortgage and business lending, for example) and investment banking (such as bond underwriting). The repeal of Glass-Steagall had opened the door to the creation of “financial supermarkets,” large and complex firms that offered both commercial and investment banking services. The lack of a new Glass-Steagall provision in the administration’s plan seemed to me particularly easy to defend. A Glass-Steagall–type statute would have offered little benefit during the crisis—and in fact would have prevented the acquisition of Bear Stearns by JPMorgan and of Merrill Lynch by Bank of America, steps that helped stabilize the two endangered investment banks. More importantly, most of the institutions that became emblematic of the crisis would have faced similar problems even if Glass-Steagall had remained in effect. Wachovia and Washington Mutual, by and large, got into trouble the same way banks had gotten into trouble for generations—by making bad loans. On the other hand, Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers were traditional Wall Street investment firms with minimal involvement in commercial banking. Glass-Steagall would not have meaningfully changed the permissible activities of any of these firms. An exception, perhaps, was Citigroup—the banking, securities, and insurance conglomerate whose formation in 1998 had lent impetus to the repeal of Glass-Steagall. With that law still in place, Citi likely could not have become as large and complex as it did. I agreed with the administration’s decision not to revive Glass-Steagall. The decision not to propose breaking up some of the largest institutions seemed to me a closer call. The truth is that we don’t have a very good understanding of the economic benefits of size in banking. No doubt, the largest firms’ profitability is enhanced to some degree by their political influence and markets’ perception that the government will protect them from collapse, which gives them an advantage over smaller firms. And a firm’s size contributes to the risk that it poses to the financial system. But surely size also has a positive economic value—for example, in the ability of a large firm to offer a wide range of services or to operate at sufficient scale to efficiently serve global nonfinancial companies. Arbitrary limits on size would risk destroying that economic value while sending jobs and profits to foreign competitors. Moreover, the size of a financial firm is far from the only factor that determines whether it poses a systemic risk. For example, Bear Stearns, which was only a quarter the size of the firm that acquired it, JPMorgan Chase, wasn’t too big to fail; it was too interconnected to fail. And severe financial crises can occur even when most financial institutions are small.

Poor neighborhoods provided their residents with quite a lot. In the trailer park, residents met people who knew how to pirate cable, when the best food pantries were open, and how to apply for SSI. All over the city, people who lived in distressed neighborhoods were more likely to help their neighbors pay bills, buy groceries, fix their car, or lend a hand in other ways, compared to their peers in better-off areas.6 These exchanges helped people on the receiving end meet basic material needs; and they helped those on the delivering end feel more fully human. But

Try Evan,” he suggests. “Apart from numbers and heaven, which gets old very quickly, there’s practically nothing.” “Numbers? Oh! Eleven…seven…” I furrow my brow. “Devon,” Kelly calls over. “That’s a county in England.” “Leaven,” I add. “You do it to bread.” Evan’s expression is comical, his blue eyes stretched as wide as they’ll go as he plucks a string and, in a singsong nursery-rhyme voice, intones: “From the age of seven to eleven Before he tragically went to heaven Evan leavened bread in Devon.” He throws his hands wide. “See? Not much to work with.” “At least you don’t have rude stuff that rhymes with you,” Kelly says gloomily. “They called me Smelly Jelly Belly at school for years.” “And Kendra isn’t that great either. It sort of sounds like bend-ya,” Kendra adds. I can’t help smiling that Kendra and Kelly are competitive in everything, even down to whose name rhymes with worse stuff. “Kendra,” Evan sings, playing a chord, “I would never bend ya, or lend ya or send ya… Oh, the words I can engender thinking about Kendra…” “‘Engender’!” Kelly exclaims. “That’s really good!” I pull myself out of the pool and walk over to a lounger, picking up a towel and wrapping it around myself; I sit on one side of Evan, Kelly on the other. Even cool-as-a-cucumber Kendra has sat up to watch Evan playing his guitar. “What about Paige?” I ask, looking over at his sister, the only one uninterested in her brother’s talent. She’s got a moisturizing pack on her hair--her head is wrapped in the special leopard-skin towel she uses when she’s doing a hair treatment--pink headphones on her ears, and a magazine in her hands as she reclines on her lounger. “Paige goes into a rage when you tell her she’s not yet legal drinking age--” Evan sings immediately, and Paige, who must have been listening after all, promptly throws her magazine at his head. He ducks easily, and it flies past and lands on the tiles.

I find it ironic that my father should die this way. He was so safety-conscious that everything he built was two or three times stronger than necessary. We joked that his carnival rides were likely to sink through to China if a heavy rain ever hit. And everything he built was grounded, vented, and had backup systems. On the other hand, my father was so obsessed with Oak Island that I had remarked to my husband as we left the island three years earlier that the only way my father would ever leave Oak Island was “feet first.” I had meant that he would find one way or another to hang on and keep trying until he died from old age. I certainly did not mean this. Karl Graeser was a fine man with a wife and two daughters who deeply loved him. he was a successful businessman who was enthusiastic, adventuresome, and always ready to lend a hand. A terrible loss. And Cyril Hiltz. He was no treasure hunter. He didn’t sign on to risk his life. He came to the island that day only to earn a few dollars. But when that crucial moment came, he rushed in to help the others. He was only 16 years old. His loss is especially cruel. My father, Robert Ernest Restall, had lived a rich and varied life--the life he wanted. He was 60 years old. Not nearly enough time, but they were 60 good years. My brother Bobby, Robert Keith Restall, is another matter. Twenty-four is too young to die. Bobby was smart and funny and always upbeat. He never had a chance. My brother deserved better than this. But, of course, they all did.