Happy stories

  1. After the last of their kids moved out, an older couple remodeled their place; when it was all finished they had a pair of old battered end tables they never really cared for, and now had no room for. So they set one out with the trash one day; an hour before the trash truck came, a car pulled up by the curb and someone got out and took the one end table. The same thing happened the next week when they set the other one out. So they decided to see what would happen the next week. The next trash collection day came, and an hour after the truck had come and gone, the same car pulled up and someone got out and set a wrapped box on top of a trash can; then they drove away. The older couple went to see what the box was.
    Inside was a cake and a note reading, “From two poor newlyweds.” :slight_smile:
  2. An ungainly, vicious little girl, an orphan, had been shunted from foster home to orphanage to state facility over and over for several years. Wherever she went she lost no time in alienating everyone she met. At one orphanage she was sent to she started as usual making enemies real quick; the headmistress started looking for some pretext to get her sent somewhere else. Sure enough, a little goody-twoshoes kid ratted on her: She said the troublesome girl had been climbing into a large tree that overhung the outside fence, and was dropping notes from it. The orphanage had a strict rule that no message from a child confined there could reach an outsider without the administration approving it first. Now we’ll get rid of her, the headmistress thought. Goody-Twoshoes said, “She left a message just a little while ago. It got stuck in a branch.” The headmistress got the gardener to climb out and get the note. He handed it to her; she read it and her expression changed instantly. so did the expression of each of the headmistress’ office aides who read it.
    The note read, “To whoever finds this, I love you.”
    Post here your own happy stories. :slight_smile:

My mom just told me this one:

When I went home last week for my best friend’s wedding, my mom let me borrow a pair of her earrings that my dad bought her. I remember going with him to pick them out; I was eight years old. They’re the tiniest diamonds I’ve ever seen… my parents were both teachers and my dad didn’t have the money to buy her anything much bigger. I remember being puzzled as to why he was buying them; it wasn’t Christmas or Mother’s Day or her birthday.

Anyway, I flew back to CA and realized I still had the earrings and emailed my mom. She said not to worry about it, but to treat them well, as there was a nice story behind them. When my mom’s 20th high school reunion came around, she didn’t want to go–she’d put on weight, felt frumpy, and figured everyone there would be in their little black cocktail dresses and diamonds, and she’d look bland and old. My dad really wanted to go, as he was a year ahead of her in school, and knew most of her class as well, so she agreed.

The day of the reunion, as she was getting dressed, my dad came in and handed her the earrings, and said “You don’t need these, but I didn’t want you to be the only woman there without a set of diamonds.” Like I said, they’re the tiniest diamonds I’ve ever seen, but it made me all warm and fuzzy to know that there was such a special story behind them.

—Two friends were at the LA Book Fair, just hanging out, waiting for an artist’s signing. Someone was distributing balloons, and A got up to see if she could snag one. She came back to report, “They’re free, but only for people under twelve.” B said, “Dammit! I’m always the wrong age or the wrong gender to get a balloon!” He had scoliosis, and had spent a lot of his youth and adolescence in hospitals. When he was six, he’d been in a hospital, and one Saturday balloons were given out, to the girls only. The next week, the boys would have gotten them, but he’d already been released.

Several weeks later, A called B from work in a panic. She’d forgotten to set the VCR for the season finale of a TV show. It was a cliffhanger, and she didn’t want to miss it. He agreed to record it for her, and they made plans to meet so she could collect it.

Before the designated meeting, A bought a helium balloon that said “Thank You” in fancy script. She boxed it up in two paper grocery bags (almost losing it in the very high ceiling of her apartment in the process) and took it to where he worked. “Don’t open it out here. No, it’s not an animal. No, it’s not of an adult nature. No, not outside! No, it’s really not an animal!” Finally, they went into a storeroom and pulled the bags apart. A will never forget that smile.

—A again. She was a Girl Scout, among her other activities. Her father never went to any of her performances and such, including the Memorial Day parade. She was one of five girls who took turns carrying the flag. In fact, she was the last one in the relay. Her mom took a picture, and she never thought about it again.

Years later, she visited her dad at his office. On his desk was the photo of her carrying the flag.

A happy story? OK:
This one time, I was having sex…
That’s it. What? It makes me happy to hear that one.

I used to have a very difficult and cranky boss. One of my jobs was to research his speeches. One day, he was due to give a speech at noon. Athough he had already approved the speech I had written, he wandered into my office at about 11:40, and said he wanted to open his speech with the Emma Lazarus poem that’s written on the Statue of Liberty … you know, the “give me your tired, your poor …” one.

Twenty minutes is really not that much time to research a poem, and this was the pre- world wide web days. I had no idea how I was going to find this poem. In a last-ditch effort, I picked up the phone and called the Statue of Liberty. Some guy picked up the phone, and I explained my situation.

He said, “You know, I can see the base of the statue from my office, let me read it to you.” And he read the entire freaking poem while I typed it out. For whatever reason, it was a really beautiful moment. He read the poem with great emotion, and I heard the sentiments in it as if I had never heard them before.

He told me that he was himself an immigrant to this country, and that he had worked at the Statue of Liberty for a number of years, but had never really read the poem before this phone call. For both of us, it was as if we had learned a lesson, that not only did Lady Liberty welcome the tired and poor, but that once we were here, we were going to help each other get by, in those zany situations that are only show up in real life, as opposed to sitcoms.

There’s a passage in “Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” where Lucy sees a mermaid girl for a brief instant, and thinks that if they were to ever see each other again, that they would run towards each other, arms outstretched. I think that about this man … that somehow, if we ever see each other, we will somehow know, and run towards the other, with outstretched arms.

One stupid little happy story that happened to me. Not as profound as the rest.

Work was hell. We were all working 70 hour weeks, usually skipping lunch. I was busy as hell, but one day decided I needed to eat, and went to the local Burger king, hoping for a quick 5 minute trip and back to work. I went inside, and there was a huge line,(especially for 3:30) I guess the frustration was showing on my face, cause the little old lady in front of me turned around and kind of looked at me for a minute, smiled, and said “I’m not really in a hurry, why don’t you go before me”. The rest of the people in line heard her turned looked around, and said pretty much the same thing. I was suddenly at the front of the line, and got to skip the probably 20 minute wait. At the time, it felt like the nicest thing anybody had ever done for me, especially considering the petty line-cutting shit that was usual at that place.