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Wood Craft Joinery, New York, NY (2025)

11/05/2025

A little boy was riding his broken bike – the brakes weren't working properly – and accidentally crashed into a parked car, resulting in a sizable dent.

The bike's owner came over. The boy was shaking with fear. You could see he was expecting something bad – maybe yelling, maybe trouble… maybe the police.

But instead, the man smiled. And did something no one would have expected:

He took the boy to a bike shop and bought him a new, safe bike.

His reasoning?

"It wasn't the child's fault. The bike just wasn't working properly. Now he can ride safely – and I can fix my car. Kindness comes first."

But there was more:

He took his time, helped the boy adjust his helmet properly, and took him for a test ride.

He didn't just want to replace the bike. He wanted to demonstrate how to respond with kindness when things could be done differently.

Maybe it was "just a bike" – but for this boy, it was a sign:

That mistakes can be forgiven.

That help doesn't have to be earned.

And that true greatness often works quietly.

11/04/2025

“While waiting to board our plane, my daughter was being her usual inquisitive self wanting to meet and say “hi” to everyone she could, until she walked up on this man.
He reached out and asked if she wanted to sit with him. He pulled out his tablet and showed her how to draw with it, they watched cartoons together, and she offered him snacks.
This wasn’t a short little exchange, this was 45 minutes. Watching them in that moment, I couldn’t help but think, different genders, different races, different generations, and the best of friends. This is the world I want for her.
In a country that is continuously fed that it’s so deeply divided, I want her life to be filled with moments like this.
Joseph, thank you for showing my daughter what kindness and compassion looks like. Continue to shine your light in the world.”
Credit: Kevin Armentrou

11/04/2025

A wealthy father once took his son to the countryside, hoping to show him what it meant to live in poverty. They spent a few days with a humble farming family. On the way back, the father asked:

— “So, what did you learn?”

The boy smiled and replied:

— “I learned a lot, Dad.

We have one dog… they have five.

We have a tiny pool… they have a flowing river full of life.

Our garden has artificial lights… they have the moon and the stars.

Our yard ends with a fence… theirs stretches as far as the eye can see.

We buy our food… they grow theirs with their own hands.

We listen to music through speakers… they hear birdsong and the whisper of the wind.

We cook fast in a microwave… they cook slowly, and it tastes better.

We lock everything up… they sleep with doors open.

We stare at screens… they connect with the earth, with each other, with life.”

The father was speechless.

The boy looked at him and softly said:

— “Dad… I didn’t realize how poor we really are.”

💫 Sometimes we think we’re teaching a lesson, but life turns it around.

That father wanted to show his son what it meant to have nothing. But the child saw something else—abundance in simplicity, richness in nature, joy in connection.

💛 You too might be richer than you think.
Wealth isn’t always in your pocket—sometimes, it’s in your heart, your peace, your freedom

11/03/2025

Judy, a purebred pointer, served as the mascot on several Royal Navy ships in the Pacific during World War II. In 1942, she was captured by the Japanese and taken to a prisoner-of-war camp, where she met Aircraftsman Frank Williams. Despite his meager rations, Frank shared his rice with her, and the two formed a bond that would carry them through years of hardship.
In the camp, Judy became more than a companion—she was a source of hope. She barked to warn prisoners of approaching snakes, crocodiles, and even tigers, and lifted spirits when morale was low. When the prisoners were later transported to Singapore, she was smuggled aboard in a sack of rice, staying silent through searches that could have cost her life.
The following day, their ship was torpedoed. In a desperate attempt to save her, Frank pushed Judy through a porthole into the sea, even though it was a 15-foot drop. He escaped soon after, only to be captured again and sent to a new camp, uncertain whether Judy had survived.
Weeks later, rumors spread among prisoners about a dog rescuing drowning men after the sinking. When Frank arrived at the new camp, he saw a scruffy dog race toward him and leap into his arms. “I couldn’t believe my eyes,” he said. “I’d never been so glad to see the old girl.”
They spent another year together in Sumatra. “Judy saved my life in so many ways,” Frank later said. “But most of all, she gave me a reason to live. Whenever I thought I couldn’t go on, I looked into those tired eyes and asked myself—what would happen to her if I died?”
When the war ended, Judy was secretly brought aboard a troopship bound for Liverpool. In 1946, she was awarded the Dickin Medal—the animal equivalent of the Victoria Cross—for her courage and loyalty in captivity, and for saving countless lives. Frank himself received the PDSA White Cross of St. Giles for his devotion to her.
After the war, the two traveled across Britain visiting families of POWs who hadn’t made it home. “She always brought comfort,” Frank said.
When Judy died at 13, Frank spent two months building a granite and marble memorial for her. On it, he placed a small plaque telling the story of the dog who never gave up—and the man who never forgot her.🥰🥰

11/03/2025

During one tense bullfight, matador Alvaro Munero did the unthinkable. As the crowd cheered, wanting the next dramatic move, he abruptly stepped away from the bull, walked to the edge of the arena, and sat down. The roaring crowd fell into stunned silence.
In a post-interview that came from his heart, Alvaro shared this life-altering moment that led to his decision:
"In one moment I forgot the existence of the horns. All I could see was his eyes, standing there, not with rage but with something much deeper-innocence. He was not attacking me; he was just looking at me, pleading wordlessly for his life. That is when it came into my mind that this isn't an animal I am fighting; this is a living thing that wanted to live as much as I did.".
His eyes had that purity that only animals possess, and in them, I saw that undeniable truth. I felt an overwhelming surge of guilt; it was as if I had become the most heartless creature alive. I couldn't continue. I dropped my sword, left the arena, and made a promise to myself: I would no longer fight bulls; I would fight against a world which makes a game out of the torture of others for amusement.
The story of Alvaro Munero is a rare, powerful look into the transformative force of compassion, even in the most unlikely of places. It is a reminder that one moment of connection can change a life, inspire a new purpose.

11/03/2025

I once heard my mother asking our neighbors for some salt, even though I knew we already had plenty at home. Curious, I asked her why. She smiled and said, “Our neighbors don’t have much, and they often come to us for help. Sometimes I ask them for something small, like salt, so they’ll feel needed too. It helps them feel comfortable asking when they truly need something.”
That day, my mother taught me a quiet lesson in empathy and dignity — how kindness isn’t just about giving, but also about helping others feel valued.
Let’s raise children who understand that — humble, compassionate, and rich in the kind of values that truly matter.
(Unknown author) ✍️💗

11/02/2025

A 96-year-old woman's note to her bank! Priceless!
The following is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96 year-old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.
----------------------------
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his depositing the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly transfer of funds from my modest savings account, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty-one years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.
My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has recently become.
From now on.., I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person.
My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.
Please find attached an Application Contact Status form which I require your chosen employee to complete.
I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.
Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course,
I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Please allow me to level the playing field even further. When you call me, you will now have a menu of options on my new voice mail system to choose from.
Please press the buttons as follows:
Press 1: To make an appointment to see me.
Press 2: To query a missing payment.
Press 3: To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
Press 4: To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
Press 5: To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
Press 6: To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
Press 7: To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.
Press 8: To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee of $50 to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. Please credit my account after each occasion.
Your Humble Client...
(Remember: This was written by a 96 year old woman!)
Shared Denny R

11/02/2025

From Ashes to a Crown: Dylan’s Story.
Sixteen years ago, life dealt Dylan Mills a challenge no baby should ever endure. At just 17 months old, a devastating house fire in Tarkington, Texas, left him with burns covering 84% of his tiny body.
His father was badly injured trying to reach him. His mother pulled him from the flames just in time. Dylan survived — but his journey ahead was filled with countless surgeries, endless pain, and years of healing inside and out.
Yet Dylan never let his scars define him. Instead, he wore them as symbols of strength, survival, and the love that saved his life.
Fast forward to 2023: under the bright stadium lights of Cleveland, Texas, Dylan walked tall, wearing a sequined jacket, a radiant smile… and the crown of Homecoming King.
Today, he plays sports, laughs with friends, and inspires everyone around him. Dylan is more than a survivor — he’s living proof that miracles happen, strength grows from pain, and true beauty shines far deeper than skin.
Congratulations to Tarkington ISD’s Homecoming King and Queen, Dylan Mills and Ashlyn Primeaux. Their story reminds us that even from ashes, a brighter future can rise.
Credit to the respective owner ✍️

11/02/2025

It was late Saturday night, not even dawn yet. My brave Husky girl Aurora was lying beside me. She kept pressing her head against me, showering me with love and giving me kisses on my cheek. Everything felt so normal, so safe. But less than a couple of hours later, I was holding her in my arms while the emergency vet told me she couldn’t fight anymore. In my arms, Aurora took her last breath… 💔
The doctor explained that a sudden tumor rupture in her spleen (Hemangiosarcoma) caused internal bleeding 🩸. We never even knew she had it. At only 6 years old, it was all over. It happened so fast, I still can’t process it.
For over 15 years, I’ve always had a Husky in my home. I can’t even imagine my house without one. But now, for the very first time, it feels unbearably empty. The last two photos I have are from that night we said goodbye 📸—me holding her close to my chest with tears falling. The other pictures were just from last week—her sitting by the window watching birds and squirrels, or leaning in to give me her silly, sweet kisses.
I am shattered. My brave Husky girl, my Aurora, will forever live in my heart.💔😭

11/02/2025

When I was 13, I carried a secret shame. We were so poor that I often went to school with no food. At recess, while my classmates opened their lunches apples, cookies, sandwiches.
I sat pretending I wasn’t hungry. I buried my face in a book, hiding the sound of my empty stomach. Inside, it hurt more than I can explain.
Then, one day, a girl noticed. Quietly, without making a fuss, she offered me half her lunch. I was embarrassed, but I accepted. The next day, she did it again. And again. Sometimes it was a roll, sometimes an apple, sometimes a piece of cake her mother baked. To me, it was a miracle. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen.
Then one day, she was gone. Her family moved, and she never came back. Every day at recess, I’d glance at the door, hoping she would walk in and sit beside me with her smile and her sandwich. But she never did.
Still, I carried her kindness with me. It became part of who I was.
Years passed. I grew up. I thought of her often, but life went on.
Then, just yesterday, something happened that froze me in place. My young daughter came home from school and said:
“Dad, can you pack me two snacks tomorrow?”
“Two?” I asked. “You never finish one.”
She looked at me with the seriousness only a child can have:
“It’s for a boy in my class. He didn’t eat today. I gave him half of mine.”
I just stood there, goosebumps rising, time standing still. In her small act, I saw that girl from my childhood. The one who fed me when no one else noticed. Her kindness hadn’t disappeared,it had traveled through me, and now, through my daughter.
I stepped onto the balcony and looked at the sky, my eyes full of tears. All at once I felt my hunger, my shame, my gratitude, and my joy.
That girl may never remember me. She may not even know the difference she made. But I will never forget her. Because she taught me that even the smallest act of kindness can change a life.
And now, I know: as long as my daughter shares her bread with another child, kindness will live on.

11/02/2025

When Sharon Stone collapsed on the bathroom floor in 2001, she didn’t know if she would ever wake up again.
A brain aneurysm left her unable to walk, speak, or read for months.
Hollywood moved on without her.
Friends disappeared.
Job offers vanished.
The woman once called “one of the most powerful stars in the world” couldn’t even remember her own lines.
For two years, she rebuilt herself in silence.
She relearned how to speak, how to walk, how to think.
She sold her home to pay medical bills.
She looked in the mirror and reminded herself who she was.
It wasn’t glamour. It was survival.
When she finally came back, she said what few dare to say:
that fame forgets quickly,
that a woman in Hollywood has an expiration date,
that kindness is rarer than applause.
In interviews, she no longer sought approval.
She spoke of the nurses who held her hand when no one else showed up.
She thanked those who stayed when the lights went out.
“I had to die to learn how to live,” she later said.
Today, Sharon Stone still acts — but she also writes, paints, and helps others who have survived strokes like hers.
Her voice carries a new calm — the kind that comes from having faced the end and chosen to begin again.
She lost everything that once defined her,
and in that loss, she found what truly matters.
Sharon Stone didn’t disappear.
She started over.

09/13/2025

🚨🚨 MISSING CHILD ALERT – NORFOLK, VA 🚨🚨

1-year-old Ashley Guadalupe Caceres has been reported missing since September 10, 2025, in Norfolk, Virginia. She was last seen with her mother, Asly Caceres, who is also missing. Authorities are asking the public to stay alert — any detail could be vital.

📂 Name: Ashley Guadalupe Caceres
📍 Location: Norfolk, Virginia
📅 Missing Since: September 10, 2025
🎂 Age: 1 year old
👧 Gender: Female

📞 If you have any information about Ashley, please call the Norfolk Police Department at 757-644-7000.

💟 Time is critical — let’s help bring Ashley home safely to her family.

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