The Wallet
 As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years. The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope. "Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?" She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you." I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked. "I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter." She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home. This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us." Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television." I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael." She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor." "Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him." She said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..." I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?" I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet." I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that right red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times." "Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake. "He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up. On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man." We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!" This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?" I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward." "No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet." The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?" "Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is." He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged. "She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her." "Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me." We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her. "Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?" She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?" She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces. "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be." About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!" It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple. A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

Everything Southern has its Yankee counterpart. 
 Here's how to tell which is which: 
    
 The North has sun-dried toe-mah-toes 
 The South has 'mater samiches 
    
 The North has coffeehouses 
 The South has Waffle Houses 
    
 The North has dating services 
 The South has family reunions 
    
 The North has switchblade knives 
 The South has Lee Press-on Nails 
    
 The North has double last names 
 The South has double first names 
    
 The North has Ted Kennedy 
 The South has Jesse Helms 
    
 The North has an ambulance, 
 The South has an amalance 
    
 The North has the Mafia, 
 The South has NASCAR 
    
 The North has Indy car races 
 The South has Swamp Buggy races 
    
 The North has Cream of Wheat or Oatmeal 
 The South has grits 
    
 The North has green salads 
 The South has collard greens and chitlins 
    
 The North has lobsters 
 The South has crawdads 
    
 The North has Distilleries, Breweries, and liquor stores 
 The South has stills, shine, and them ridgerunners 
    
 The North has the rust belt 
 The South has the Bible Belt 
    
 The North has Dan Quayle 
 The South has Bill Clinton

If AOL were a City:
 You'd only pay $19.95 a month to live there, but half the time you tried to leave your house, the door would be stuck.

Once you got outside, even if you were in a hurry, you'd be assaulted by slimy little door-to-door sales creeps offering you great AOL 14.4 modems for only $399.99

The commute to work is just a double-click away, but every time you try to leave your driveway, the flow of traffic knocks you back into your yard.

The local post office would tell your mother you're not a known resident.

The local post office wouldn't forward your mail to you when you moved.

You would get calls like " Hi, I'm j0e hax0r from the town council. We had a database crash and lost your tax records. Please give us your address and the key to your house or we will be forced to evict you and your family."

Every time you went shopping, you'd be kicked out of the store by a bouncer screaming "WE'RE SORRY, THIS STORE IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE."

You'd occasionally be sent home during your day by another bouncer telling you that the city has performed an illegal operation, but that it's really the Earth's fault.

The administration would build a huge, state of the art park, and advertise that children can play there free, then suddenly demand money while ripping down the swings and accosting the children playing there.

Don't forget the AOL playground, which is locked so that the kiddies cannot get out "for safety reasons," and then hordes of perverts & pedophiles are allowed in.

The police would work for free out of some sort of "duty" to the city, but would secretly only be doing it for the free food stamps.

Upon waking every morning, a voice from above would shout "HEY!! YOU DO WANT AN AOL VISA, DON'T YOU?" To which you say "no." The voice then replies "OK, I'LL ASK YOU TOMORROW."

Your neighbors would be called to leave on pilgrimages to a mystical land called USENET, where they would bleat the virtues of your fair city.

A new nurse listened while Dr. Blake was yelling, "Typhoid! Tetanus! Measles!" The new nurse asked another nurse, "Why is he doing that?" The other nurse replied, "Oh, he just likes to call the shots around here."

A missionary who had spent years showing a tribe of natives how to farm and build things to be self-sufficient gets word that he is to return home. He thinks that the one thing he never did was to teach these natives how to speak English.. So he takes the chief and starts walking in the forest. He points to a tree and tells the chief, this is a tree. The chief looks at the tree and grunts "tree". The missionary is pleased with the response. They walk a little farther and the missionary points to a rock and says this is a rock" at which the chief looks and grunts "rock". The missionary is really getting enthusiastic about the results when he hears a rustling in the bushes. As they peak over the top they see a couple in the midst of heavy sexual activity. The missionary is really flustered and quickly responds, "riding a bike". The chief looks at the couple briefly, pulls out his blow gun, and kills them. The missionary goes ballistic and yells at the chief that he has spent years teaching the tribe how to be civilized, and kind to each other, so how could he kill these people.. The chief replied ...."My Bike"..

HELL IS UNDER-RATED
 + Joe Camel was given a penthouse
+ Sex with your mother-in-law is not permitted
+ Jerry Springer's bible classes are free
+ Speed Limit 180 MPH....220 MPH if you have been drinking
+ Lawyers are required to file "wrongful death " suits...free
+ Free prostate checks and mammograms administered daily
+ The are no No Smoking signs
+ Your "little blue flame" trick now produces spectacular results
+ The new health code now requires that all vats of boiling oil be low fat Canola oil
+ Fortune to be made in..." Welcome, O.J." T-shirts
+ Yes it's hot...but it's *dry* heat
+ New Law...Three Strikes...and you're sent back to LA
+ Amusement... Satan's confused look when he attempts to torture masochists
+ No annoying Pearly Gates procedures when checking in
+ All "Little Johnny " jokes are forbidden
+ Telling someone to "Go To Heaven" is considered rude
+ All *Low Fat* and *Lite* products have been banned
+ The Hell Web Page can be opened at www.ohshit

A woman walked up to a little old man rocking in a chair on his porch. "I couldn't help noticing how happy you look," she said. "What's your secret for a long happy life?" "I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day," he said. "I also drink a case of whiskey a week, eat fatty foods, and never exercise." "That's amazing," the woman said. "How old are you?' "Twenty-six," he said.

GREAT FEMALE COMEBACKS
 
Man:   "Is this seat empty?"
Woman: "Yes, and this one will be too if you sit down."

Man:   "I'd like to call you.  What's your number?"
Woman: "It's in the phone book."
Man:   "But I don't know your name."
Woman: "That's in the phone book, too."

Man:   "So what do you do for a living?"
Woman: "I'm a female impersonator."
  
Man:   "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"
Woman: "Unfertilized."

Man:   "I know how to please a woman."
Woman: "Then please leave me alone."

Man:   "I want to give myself to you."
Woman: "Sorry, I don't accept cheap gifts."

Man:   "If I could see you naked, I'd die happy."
Woman: "Yeah, but if I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing."

Man:   "Your body is like a temple."
Woman: "Sorry, there are no services today."

THE SIGN "What happened?" asked the hospital visitor of the heavily bandaged man sitting up in bed. "Well, I went down to Margate at the weekend and decided to take a ride on the roller coaster. As we came up to the top of the highest loop, I noticed a little sign by the side of the track. I tried to read it but it was very small and I couldn't make it out. I was so curious that I decided to go round again, but we went by so quickly that I couldn't see what the sign said. By now, I was determined to read that sign so I went round a third time. As we reached the top, I stood up in the car to get a better view." "And did you manage to see what the sign said this time?" asked the visitor. "Yes." "What did it say?" "Don't stand up in the car!"

PEARLY GATES
 An 85-year-old couple, after being married for almost 60 years, died in a car crash. They had been in good health the last ten years, mainly due to her interest in health food and exercising. When they reached the Pearly Gates, St. Peter took them to their mansion, which was decked out with a beautiful kitchen, master bath suite and a Jacuzzi. As they looked around, the old man asked St. Peter how much all this was going to cost. "It's free," St. Peter replied, "this is Heaven." Next, they went out in the back yard to survey the championship-style golf course that the home was located. They would have golfing privileges every day and each week, the course changed to a new one representing the great golf courses on earth. The old man asked, "What are the green fees?" St. Peter replied, "This is heaven, you play for free." Next, they went to the club house and saw the lavish buffet lunch with the cuisine of the World laid out. "How much to eat?" asked the old man. "Don't you understand yet? This is heaven, it is free!" St. Peter replied, with some exasperation. "Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol tables?" the old man asked timidly. St. Peter lectured, "That's the best part - you can eat as much as you like of whatever you like and you never get fat and you never get sick. This is Heaven." With that, the old man went into a fit of anger, throwing down his hat and stomping on it, and screaming wildly. St. Peter and his wife both tried to calm him down, asking him what was wrong. The old man looked at his wife and said, "This is all your fault! If it weren't for your blasted bran muffins, I could have been here ten years ago!"