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Before my mother taught me to iron, she taught me to sprinkle. Next, I learned about the iron itself which—like many adult appliances—was dangerous.
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Jock took a group of us pony-trekking and as we rode up into the rugged mountains—the mist lifting and the sheep calling—I knew I belonged to this lovely, melancholy landscape.
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I was smiling as I went on my way, surprised to discover how much pleasure it gave me to help these people. And I think most of us are really yearning to be of help to each other.
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How lucky, I thought, that I got to start out at the candy counter!
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The green cabbage was so big, it slipped out of my hand and rolled into the carrots just as the overhead spray came on, misting the vegetables and my shirt.
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Mildred was a large, middle-aged woman who sat in the back row of my workshop and told me she had to leave at the break. A few weeks later, I received a letter from Mildred, a letter that was postmarked Hawaii.
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In a world of people wanting to slim down, my daughter and I are trying to plump up.
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I think about how people used to try hard to last things. Today, almost everything is disposable. And I leave his shop wishing we could last more...
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I had heard about the Hindu belief in “sacred cows” and thought the whole idea rather strange and certainly unhygienic. Now I was sharing a sidewalk with them. Now I was watching a lovely woman touch the cow and touch her forehead in reverence. I could feel something shift in the baggage of my assumptions.