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Bart,

We saw you perform this in Atlanta in 2003.  It was wonderful. Prior to that  we had seen the East in Charlotte.

When you walked on the stage for OCB, I heard myself say “Yes” internally.   It was what I envisioned the first time I heard that song. You embody the character and it is a pleasure to watch and experience. The theatricality of it is what makes it so unique.  It is the centerpiece of the story as its draws to its conclusion.

I hear grumbles and mumbles about Stevie B making it too long, but he too becomes the character, and the story is one that needs to be embraced. I personally love the drama.  Story telling is an art form, and when set to music it rises to a whole new level….thank you for helping it ascend.

Besides that, it always amazes me how you both can hold one note for endless breaths.

Thank you for creating Gerald.  It has made both shows better for it.

Mary

Dear Bart, Tommy, Tony & Andrew,

As a parent who had a terminally ill child in a hospital over one long, cold Christmas in Minneapolis,  I want to thank you all for what you do.  We were far from our warm Florida home back in 2001 and while we didn't get a visit from our TSO family, we were blessed with other angels who visited us, bringing gifts and Christmas dinner.  It so hard not only for the children in the hospital, but also for the families who care for them.  Every warm comment, gift of time, etc. means so much to the care-givers who struggle with the potential loss of a loved one, providing care for the child and any others at home, and finding time to do all the necessary chores.

The main reason I have remained a loyal TSO fan for all of these years is the fact that the members of TSO really do live the message and pass on the joy of Christmas to all they meet.
 
Thank you for all you do and may God bless you,
Lisa Guertin

Our story begins on a cold crisp day; the kind of cold where you can see your own breathe. It is mid- morning of the day before Christmas. We are looking for a father and daughter who are far from home; but, are so happy to be together on this special day. The father has come to the city due to a last minute business need. Not wanting to be without his daughter, he has brought her along in the hope of doing some last minute Christmas shopping with her and has made plans to show her the big tree before flying back home on this eve.

As we get closer, the father and daughter are walking down a busy New York City street. We can hear the father talking to his daughter, “I’m so thankful we’re together this Christmas Eve! While you were gone, I discovered how wrong I was and now realize that you are my whole life and up until now my life was empty.”
She smiled back at him and said, “It’s ok Dad. That’s all in the past now.”

“Yes it is, Allie; and this year it will all be different! I have changed and see the error of my ways. The way I see it; I have been given a second chance and I’m going to take full advantage of it! My only regret of this past year is not finding the tender of that old bar whose kind act last Christmas Eve helped you find your way home to me. I so want to meet him and thank him somehow.”

For you see, it was only a year earlier when this young girl was far from home scared and all alone. Through an unselfish act, she was bestowed with luck from a stranger who helped her find her way home. Or, was it something more?
 

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Dear Bart,

I just wanted to thank you, for your part of a wonderful evening my family and I experienced tonight in Milwaukee. We hadn’t been in our seats long, all of us giddy with childlike excitement that the concert night had finally arrived… when the haggard gentleman took a seat behind our seats. To us, a long lost member of the family had arrived, as it was our 9^th year of TSO being a part of our lives. My husband Rob and I, grinned and watched as the kids *they hate being called kids at 29, 27, 26, 26 and 16 – just habit* turned quickly around and handed you a dollar for your bag. We also grinned while the people around us, who had never experienced the concert, watched in quiet reserve.. while accepting the bills.. while being escorted from seat to seat by ushers… while the realization that their ‘show’ had begun long before the concert took center stage as the notes of Old City Bar filled the auditorium.

I wanted to Thank you for that. I wanted to try and explain what TSO means to us, our family. *IT* is Christmas. It sets the whole season into perspective. The family of TSO, the joy that shows on what must be exhausted faces, sharing your time with 1,000’s and 1,000’s and 1,000’s of people for your holidays. It goes beyond the music, and the lights, and the extras… not to say that that isn’t spectacular.. because it truly is.. it’s the story and talent and caring all of you show. All the caring you show to soldiers, to the hungry, to the lines and lines of people that stand in line wanting just one more moment of your time.

We were at the beginning of that long line tonight.. waiting our turn for that one more moment .. knowing there is never enough time to say everything, or anything that would be able to show enough gratitude…but unable to leave without trying. Walking past all the talent, meeting eyes and exchanging quick words of thanks.. I didn’t even realize there were joyful thankful tears so close until we got to the end of the table, and you sat there with Tommy and listened as we babbled on…really listened. Amazing.

The kids picked on their old mom all the way to the car as I wiped tears away listening to them relive the night. My oldest son and his wife, oldest daughter and her husband had all driven in three hours for the concert, and their little ones were tucked snuggly in bed when we returned our home here in Milwaukee. We opened the door, and my oldest said.. Mom, lets decorate the tree.. Christmas started tonight. It’s 3 am now.. and everyone is quietly sleeping as I look around the living room now dressed in Christmas tinsel and trim… but I know it’s not the sparkle of the tree that represents Christmas here tonight… it’s the FEELING of Christmas TSO sprinkled across our hearts.. again.

So I will tell you.. what you told me and my family tonight at our first meeting of our haggard family friend….

God Bless You!

Kelly Schlicht

Milwaukee, WI

2007 - Knoxville TN TSO Concert

My fiancé and I had purchased tickets on funds we didn't really have, but I was so stressed and frustrated from events in my work helping the homeless in Knoxville TN. we decided to just make a night of it and relax and have some fun.

Keep in mind here:  I am, (sarcastically) ,,, MR ALL THAT at helping the homeless,,,,,MR HOMELESS ASSISTANCE GUY,,,,as far as I am concerned, you know what I mean.   Honestly, I am very good at it and not like your typical assitance organization.  I do not use the "God Bless" tagged on the end of everything even though I know I get my talent comes from Jesus.  Bottom line, I know I am good at it and why, and it frustrates me how homelessness is dealt with.  

So, here is MR HOMELESS ASSISTANT ALL THAT GUY,,,at the TSO concert.  We waited outside for quite a while to get in just like everyone else,,,,waited in line for a very long time at the concession stands to get food only to find out they were actually already out of food,,,,,LOL,,,holy crap,,,it was just topping off my frustrations from the past month or so.  I was tired, I was fried.  Normally, back then I was working 24 hours 7 days a week,,,,crazyness.  I have the ability to be very patient with my Homeless Friends yet very intense about what I do.  This night I was just plain fried as I say.  My guard was down in relation to myself. Normally i try to always keep myself in check with my feelings actions etc.

So we start to head from the concession stands to our seats and as we head across the main floor corridor ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,THENNNNNNnnnnnnn,,,,,,,here comes down the corridor by the concession stand this homeless guy (YOU),,,,,I immediately turn to my fiancé and say,,,,how the heck did he get in?  What is he doing in here?  In here at my beloved TSO concert where I just want to dang relax!  Geez,,,,so I was still irritated as we got to our seats thinking,,,,dang, don't I do enough ?  Blah blah blah,,,,, 

The concert began and it was awesome of course and THENNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnn,,,,the homeless guy(YOU) walk out on stage and do your thing,,,,,,,,,,,,son of a B*&%^!!!!   First you would really have to know me and how I believe I do what I do to really understand & appreciate this whole scenario, but it was like you from the stage threw a fireball at me in the form of a brick wall and slammed it full force into me directly.  Both me and my fiancé were blown away,,,,,,,I knew why that brick walled fireball hit me,,,,,,I knew exactly why and think of it almost everyday.  Instead of walking up to you, that homeless guy, me, MR ALL THAT HOMELESS ASSISTANCE GUY......should have stopped you like I have done so many times before and asked,,,What Can I do for you?  Do you need help or do you want help?  But no, I chose to be a jerk, I chose to be something I hate in people.  Never again,,,,I have not done it before that, and will never do it again.  Thanks to you and your Homeless Guy gig.  Very cool.  All it takes is once to lose someone,,,,,thankfully you were you and NOT a homeless guy.  That does not make what I did ok though,,,it makes me know I just have to keep all the more stronger at all times.  I am usually ready for anything, always.  Now I know I will make sure when I am too tired that that is when I have to be even stronger. 

So, to YOU ,,MR HOMELESS GUY!   I Thank you!  I Thank you for your boldness to put yourself out there. I Thank you for slamming me with that brick walled fireball.   I am sure you get a lot of stories about you and your thing you do at the concerts.  I just wanted you to hear one from another angle.  :-))!

Take care and maybe we can talk sometime.

I just created a new website if you want to take a look sometime.  www.homelesscrisis.wordpress.com

I am also @homelesscrisis on Twitter and have a FB fan page under Lance Greene / Straight Ahead Outreach.

Take care!

Lance Greene  :-))!

Hi BART thanks for 'splainin all of that!!

It makes sense to me as a frusteramated and under skilled scribbler of lines that often a character takes over a performer in ways that the performer never realized were possible when the character was created (didn't Peter Sellers and/or Jonathan Winters actually lose track of themselves in real life due to their involvement in their characters?)

It was almost a subject of a psych. paper in college for me: are writers and/or actors responsible for the actions of the character they created or, like Frankenstein's monster, once created the character must do what they would do no matter how repulsive or unacceptable those actions may be seen by the general public

In any case thank you muchly, busy and kind sir for your invaluable input on the subject...that being you, in one form or another ;-)

I know that many folks on the TSO express site have commented on your uuhhmm...involvement in the character, and a few yrs back you even got my mom sucked into the wandering lost and alone on stage

just for that you get mondo kudos from the family fuzzball ;-)

 all the best to you and your troupes thru the rest of the season and beyond

Gerbal

I have always and will forever, think of OCB as my gift from you Bart, and from TSO.  As Gerald, you are 'base humanity' begging us to open our eyes and hearts to witness what life is really all about.

Gerald allows our senses to experience a whole array of emotions from shock and disgust at his initial appearance in the crowd or as he fumbles onto the stage, to pity for his situation, to realization that he has a valuable message that we now feel compelled to hear,  to awe that he's "got it" and long before we do, to humility about the fact that he has finally awakened in us something so emotionally charged, it overflows from our hearts, and finally to the acceptance with gratitude that we now "have it" too. 

My tears as you sing are ones of freedom and, the release from a self-centered existence to that of renewed concern for my fellow man and for thanks to you Bart for doing this, through the embodiment of Gerald. I have said it before and will say it again; Bart, you are my Santa Clause and your gift to me is that fresh faith in and concern for humanity that you fill my soul with. You, Gerald and OCB are what I look forward to every year. 

Thank you and God Bless you. 

Doreen Kelley 

Thank you so much for sharing that with us Bart, having been one of the lucky ones to see both you and Stevie b perform OCB I can tell you that I enjoy both presentations and with Stevie's fresh in my mind from last night I now understand the song so much more, hope you have a very blessed Christmas and hope to see you back on Broadway again in the near future

 Kenny D

Thank you so much for your explanation and your take on Gerald McNally. Reminds me of writers and how often when you create a character, it already knows where it's going before you do. I can see that Gerald is the angel without a problem at all.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, Blessings always, Therese

Bart-
I was a bit stunned (and happy) to hear the Gerald McNally reference when Tommy was doing intros during the St. Louis shows. That was actually the first time I€™d heard the name spoken in any of the concerts. Your passion for portraying the character is evident in both your performance and in the fact
that you took the time to open up a bit and respond here. Your comments are always more than welcome here as far as I€™m concerned. Don€™t change a thing with the performance, it€™s fine by me.

Enjoy a couple days rest!

Brad

Bart thanks for taking the time to stop by and tell us the story of Gerald. I can't speak for everyone here, but I love coming into the venue and trying to see if I can find you walking around. I love the way you sing OCB, the emotion you bring to it. You have an Amazing talent and I appreciate you sharing it with us every year. I wish you and your family a Very Merry Christmas.

Jeff H

Dear Bart,

Thank you for sharing with us your story of the beginning of “Gerald.”  I happen to love Old City Bar; it is my very favorite TSO song and I love the way you sing it even more, makes me get all misty-eyed.  To me, your voice and emotion bring those beautiful words to life and bring home to my heart what this season is really all about.  You have blessed us all with a wonderful gift.  Please don’t change anything about Old City Bar and your contribution to a fantastic show.  Thank you and Merry Christmas!

Kat

P.S.  My husband and I saw y’all in Lubbock last week.  I hugged your neck as you wandered around the United Spirit Arena “in character.”  It was great to see you in the meet and greet and we will see you again in San Antonio and Austin . Take care.

Always did think that the bum was the Angel....Never thought any different....love the song and like I have said before it EMBODIES the message I think TSO is trying to get out and it is what TSO is to me.  I love what you have done to the character over the years and "pitchforks".... oh my, I think since you are singing the song...what a great way to get the interpretation....

 Stay true to it Bart or Gerald or whatever you would like to be called.  I still remember the twinkle in your eye a couple yrs back when you you were roaming the concourse at UTEP (El Paso), watching how people received you...

 ~Sandee

Bart, Thanks so much for telling about the genesis of "Gerald McNally".  We have loved your performance of OCB since we first so it in 2002 and missed it so much the year you were absent.  No one was more delighted than I when you returned to your Old City Bar.  My family and I wait with baited breath every year to see you come out and we love the costume and the props.  It gives the story real heart.  Don't let anyone tell you it doesn't work or that it is too long.  They are wrong.

Can't wait to see you again (Dec 27 evening show in Houston)...

Margi

Bart,

It was great to see you last night, your performance was fantastic. I really didn’t know you were performing with TSO.

Funny, when I saw the bum character, I thought that it might be someone famous doing a cameo bit, and that at the end their identity would be revealed. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it, and boy could you hold a note (didn’t do that in high school). I was shocked when they introduced you.

I checked out your web site, look as if you are doing fantastic.

Christine

11-30-2009

Dear Bart,

                Thank you again for your (and all of TSO’s) wonderful performance in Salt Lake City just before Thanksgiving.  I was pleasantly surprised when Mr. Petrelli (or Mr. Farese?) related the news of your in-character, pre-concert crowd contact and the generous way that you disperse the donations.  It reminded me of an experience I had about 4 years ago that I thought you would enjoy me sharing.

                I met your character.  My eldest niece has what she considers to be the misfortune of a birthday which occurs just a few days before Christmas.  My sister Brenda and I took her ice skating downtown to make her birthday special and separate from Christmas.  While she was on the ice with her littlest sister and some newly-met friends, I watched from the sidelines.  It was bitterly cold and I was tempted to just crawl right into the brazier beside the rink. 

                As I was trying to warm myself by the fire, your character approached me.  He was one of three very obviously homeless street-men.  He was on the older side of middle age, with long, scraggly hair and beard, wearing probably all the clothes he owned under a dubiously gray coat with stuffing whisping out of the tatters.  From duct tape-patched backpacks to bruises and healing cuts, the evidences of the grit and difficulty of their lives were obvious. This man appeared to be the spokesman for the group. 

                I’m ashamed to admit that my first thoughts were not the most charitable.  However, they looked harmless enough and I could not begrudge them a place to warm their hands.  I did the rather typical behavior of moving a step away and looking out at the skaters, my nieces, the lights on the trees, or anywhere other than at them.  I was not entirely trying to ignore them.  I did have a small portion of an idea that I was trying to avoid rudeness by not staring.  But, I was also not acknowledging their presence.  I was taken aback when the gentleman I described approached me almost diffidently to ask if I had seen a small boy in a red coat.

                That got my attention.  I said no and asked why.  He related that they had seen a small boy between 4 and 6 years old wandering alone and lost-looking on the street.  There was no one anywhere in sight.  He said that they tried to approach the boy to ask where his parents were or if they could help him find someone.  Then, with a wry expression, he shook his head and said that, of course, the boy bolted when he saw the three of them walking toward him.  They would have made a very formidable sight for a small boy.  (Heck, they made a rather disreputable and potentially menacing sight for an adult woman to encounter.)

                I told him that I would keep my eyes open and look around the Gallivan Center.  He thanked me and said that they were going to walk around the block to see if they could find him.  They were seriously worried.  He said that they knew what kind of harm could come to him alone on the street and they wanted to make sure he was ok.  They left and my sister and I searched the entire plaza and the buildings open to the public where he might have stopped to warm himself.  We came up empty and returned to keep an eye on our own charges who were still skating away.

                The men returned about 20 minutes later and asked if I had seen him.  Their efforts had proved fruitless in finding the lost boy.  I said that the boy probably just went back to his family, but I offered to call the police anyway, just in case.  The spokesman thanked me and he and his companions stayed to offer all the details they could remember.  The dispatcher asked if we would remain in the area in case the police needed any further information and then she promised that either a police officer would come talk to us or she would call us back on my cell phone when the situation was resolved. 

                As we waited to hear from the police, the men talked with me (and my sister who had come off the ice for good by that time).  The man asked if I thought he would need to show some I.D.  I had no clue.  He started digging in his backpack and said that he was the only one of the three who had anything of the sort.  His only identification was an old hospital bracelet from an illness for which he received treatment a year previously.  My sister went into the rental place and bought them some coffee from the vending machines inside.  I don’t know if the coffee was any good… I doubt it was… but they received it as if it were a Christmas gift.  The spokesman had to turn down our offer to share the birthday cake as he had broken teeth that made eating anything sweet pure torture but he thanked us for the thought (and his friends ate his share). 

                After an hour and a half of waiting, the kids were about skated-out and were ready to go home.  I called the police back and asked if they had found the boy.  The dispatcher was very apologetic for not calling back as she had promised.  The patrolman who came to search found the boy.  His father had been installing a rather large marquis sign almost two blocks away.  He was supposed to be in the care of his slightly older brother.  The little brother didn’t like his bigger brother bossing him around so he ran away and got turned around.  When the policeman found them, the little boy was already being hauled before his father by the older brother.  The policeman talked to the man and the boys and the father promised to keep a better eye on his kids.  However, the officer was diverted off on another call and the dispatcher forgot that we were waiting to hear.

                The homeless man was so very happy to hear that the boy was safe.  His smile was huge as he related the news to his friends and they punched one another on the shoulders in congratulation and relief.  I was a little stunned; these men, whom most people would studiously not notice and actually go out of their way to avoid, were overjoyed to know that one little kid who was lost and alone was safely home with his family.  With tears in our eyes, my sis and I gave the gentlemen careful hugs (he had a few broken ribs and the others were bruised) and our thanks and the money we were planning on spending to get dinner out on the way home.

                I haven’t seen him since.  I’m not good with names and I couldn’t even remember his name that very night.  However, I will always remember him and his heart.  And, I will always be reminded of him whenever I see your character and hear his song. 

                On a personal note – honestly, neither my sister nor I really mean any offense, things just seem to come out wrong when we are under a constricted time frame.  I think three years ago she mentioned noticing you broke character for a second with a note that seemed too polished (or something like that) and everyone around gave you a bit of a ribbing.  This time I mentioned that you no longer looked too young to play the role… and of course, that got translated into “you look old.”  Sorry.  I meant you looked more mature in real life than the barely-out-of-your-teens that you appeared to be the last time we attended a TSO performance.  

                So, thanks again for coming to Salt Lake even though we roll up the sidewalks early, finding celebratory “spirited” libations are difficult, and apparently Energy Solutions Arena’s solution to the energy problem is to shut off the power at midnight sharp even if the place is still crowded and the performers are still in the building.    

                And, keep up the extraneous good works.  I am certain there are many, many children who will have Christmases long-remembered due to the efforts of a bum and his generous and talented alter-ego.

I wish you and your expanding family a very Merry Christmas!

Julia Maxwell

CHEYENNE By Catherine Moore

'Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anything right?' Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I avoided his eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle..

'I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.' My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts.

Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him a bout his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders.

Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults.. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether.. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation.

It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody.. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics Listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' I listened as she read..

The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens.. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the Last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him, that was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?'

'Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed Dog.'

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision.. 'I'll take him,' I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me.. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples..

'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!' Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community.

They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers.. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole,

I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.'

'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article.

Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares? But do share this with someone.

 Lost time can never be found.

As native americans say: "I'm not sure this actually happened, but I know it is true." - ron bell