He met her at a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he was average-looking, shy and awkward.

At the end of the party, he finally summoned some courage to invite the girl to have coffee with him. She was surprised, but out of politeness, she accepted his invitation to go on a date. They both sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, waiting for coffee. With him being so shy and awkward around her, it seemed like the conversation between them would never start.

The coffee was brought and suddenly, he asked the waiter. “Would you please get me some salt? I’d like to put it in my coffee!” Everyone at the cafe stared at him with a strange look! His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously, “Why this unusual habit?” He took a couple of sips and replied, “When I was a little boy, I lived near the sea. I liked playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there.” While saying that, tears filled his eyes.

She was deeply touched. That’s his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has realized his responsibility for his family … She then started talking about her childhood, her faraway hometown, and her family.

That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their love story. They continued to date. She found that actually, he was a man who met all her demands: he had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good man and had it not been for the salt in the coffee, she’d never have really known him!

The rest of the story was just like any other beautiful love story: they finally got married, and they lived a very happy married life. And sure! every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, just the way he liked it! After 40 years of marital bliss, he died after a short illness.

One day, she found a letter he had left for her which said:

“My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life’s lie. This was the only lie I told you—the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time. Actually, I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our conversation! I wanted to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I promised not to lie to you for anything… Now I’m dying, so I tell you the truth, I don’t like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste… But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, I still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again.

Please forgive me, darling, for lying to you first in that coffee shop and then not telling you the truth every time you made coffee for me! I am not lying now when I say, I couldn’t have that coffee any other way! – still madly in love with you.”

Tears fell down her cheek as she finished reading the letter.

If anybody asks her: “How did that salted coffee taste?” “It’s sweet.” She always replied.

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island was going to sink, so they all needed to vacate it as soon as possible. All the feelings prepared their boats and left. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to stay until it started sinking. When Love was almost sinking, he decided to ask for help.
Wealth was passing by Love in a beautiful boat. Love said, “Wealth, can you take me with you?” Wealth answered, “No, I can’t. There are a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you.” Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by, “Vanity, please help me!” “I can’t help you Love. You are all wet and can probably damage my boat,” Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked for help, “Sadness, let me go with you.” “Oh, Love, I am so sad that I prefer to go alone!” Happiness passed by Love too, but she was so happy that she did not hear when Love called her! Suddenly, there was a voice, “Come Love, I will take you.” It was an elder. Love became so happy that he even forgot to ask the elder her name. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went on her own way. Love asked Knowledge, another elder, the name of the elder who had helped him. “It was Time,” answered Knowledge. “Time? But why did Time help me?” asked Love. “Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is,” answered Knowledge.

When I was a little girl I used to sit in the kitchen and watch Mother bake bread. I loved to watch her throw the dough on the board, grasp it with her large, sure hands, and knead it. The dough came up between her fingers as she squeezed it. When it was just right, she smoothed it into a big flat mass and cut it into pieces. The dough went down – and then came up again as if it were breathing. She molded one part after another into loaves, dropped them into buttered pans, patted the tops with melted butter, and then popped them into the oven. I always waited breathlessly for her to open the oven door, and when she did I was always excited by the miracle of the little white loaf growing so quickly into a big, golden brown loaf. Then after what seemed to me almost forever, the bread was baked. When it had cooled a little, Mother often cut off a brown, crisp heel for me and spread it with butter. My mouth waters now when I think of its crispiness, its softness inside, its sweet nutlike richness.

When I knocked on the door, Mr. Fox quickly responded, “Come on in.” He didn’t even ask who it was. I opened the door, and he looked at me closely and greeted me with a toothless smile, inviting me to sit on the shabby sofa. Since Mr. Fox was my next-door neighbor in the same apartment complex, we had known each other.
Mr. Fox was a tall and thin black man in his sixties, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. He had hard brown hair with a lot of gray, which showed his age.
I explained the reason I had come to visit him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about your experience during the Great Depression.” As I was saying this, Mr. Fox looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes as if he had been taking himself back to the 1930s. Opening his eyes, he said, “OK, go ahead.” He spoke slowly in his deep, hoarse voice.

I was then an undergraduate student majoring in American Studies. I had chosen this major because I was interested in my roots. As my coursework, Thad to interview three black Americans who had experienced the Great Depression in order to investigate what kind of period the Depression had been for black people. I had prepared a set of questions I wanted to ask Mr. Fox, but it seemed too awkward to put a written questionnaire in front of this old man. So I had decided to let our conversation flow as naturally as possible. After a couple of exchanges, I asked a question about his family. Mr. Fox didn’t respond immediately. He lit a cigarette and cleared his throat while smoking. Then he started to tell his story slowly. Looking into his face and listening to his voice, I was suddenly struck by something. I realized that there was a shadow of my face in his face, and there was an echo of my voice in his voice. I was convinced that he must be the father who had deserted me when I was still young.

This man, sitting in front of me without knowing who I was, was my roots I had long been searching for in my mind. My conviction became the truth when he admitted that he had had a family in Mobile, Alabama, which he abandoned a long time ago. I was about to say, “Dad, I’m your…” but somehow I held back. Instead of accusing him of what he had done to me, I forgave him in my heart. When I looked past him to the drifting clouds through the window, I realized that my father was a poor man who had gone to the city seeking a living, but who had failed in the city. This man in front of me must remain Mr. Fox, just an acquaintance who happened to be one of my interviewees.

A successful businessman was growing old and knew it was time to choose a successor to take over the business. Instead of choosing one of his directors or his children, he decided to do something different. He called all the young executives in his company together.
He said, “It is time for me to step down and choose the next CEO. I have decided to choose one of you.” The young executives were shocked, but the boss continued, “I am going to give each one of you a SEED today—one very special SEED. I want you to plant the seed, water it and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from the seed I have given you. I will then judge the plants that you bring, and the one I choose will be the next CEO.”
One man, named Jim, was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and, excitedly, told his wife the story. She helped him get a pot, soil and compost and he planted the seed. Every day, he would water it and watch to see if it had grown. After about three weeks some of the other executives began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow. Jim kept checking his seed, but nothing ever grew.
Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by, still nothing. By now, others were talking about their plants, but Jim didn’t have a plant and he felt like a failure. Six months went by — still nothing in Jim’s pot. He just knew he had killed his seed. Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing. Jim didn’t say anything to his colleagues, however. He just kept watering and fertilizing the soil. He so wanted the seed to grow.
A year finally went by and all the young executives of the company brought their plants to the CEO for inspection. Jim told his wife that he wasn’t going to take an empty pot. But she asked him to be honest about what happened. Jim felt sick at his stomach, it was going to be the most embarrassing moment of his life, but he knew his wife was right. He took his empty pot to the board room. When Jim arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by the other executives.
They were beautiful — in all shapes and sizes. Jim put his empty pot on the floor and many of his colleagues laughed. A few felt sorry for him! When the CEO arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted his young executives. Jim just tried to hide in the back. “My, what great plants, trees and flowers you have grown,” said the CEO. “Today one of you will be appointed the next CEO!” All of a sudden, the CEO spotted Jim at the back of the room with his empty pot. He ordered the financial director to bring him to the front. Jim was terrified. He thought, “The CEO knows I’m a failure! Maybe he will have me fired!” When Jim got to the front, the CEO asked him what had happened to his seed. Jim told him the story. The CEO asked everyone to sit down except Jim. He looked at Jim, and then announced to the young executives, “Behold your next Chief Executive! His name is Jim!” Jim couldn’t believe it. Jim couldn’t even grow his seed. How could he be the new CEO, the others said.
Then the CEO said, “One year ago today, I gave everyone in this room a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it and bring it back to me today. “But i gave you all boiled seeds; they were dead – it was not possible for them to grow. All of you, except Jim, have brought me trees and plants and flowers. “When you found that the seed would not grow, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. Jim was the only one with the courage and honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it. Therefore, he is the one who will be the new Chief Executive!”

The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son’s dreams to come true.
She took her son’s hand and asked, “Bopsy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?” “Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up.” Mom smiled back and said, “Let’s see if we can make your wish come true.” Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son’s final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, “Look, we can do better than that. If you’ll have your son ready at seven o’clock Wednesday morning, we’ll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you’ll give us his sizes, we’ll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat – not a toy one – with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They’re all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast.”
Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Bopsy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Bopsy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven.
There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Bopsy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic’s van and even the fire chief ‘s car. He was also videotaped for the local news program. Having his dream come true, and with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, Bopsy lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night, all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the Hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Bopsy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Bopsy as he made his transition. The chief replied, “We can do better than that. We’ll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It’s just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? Thanks.” About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, extended its ladder up to Bopsy’s third floor open window and 14 firemen and two firewomen climbed up the ladder into Bopsy’s room. With his mother’s permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him. With his dying breath, Bopsy looked up at the fire chief and said, “Chief, am I really a fireman now?” “Bopsy, you are,” the chief said. With those words, Bopsy smiled and closed his eyes one last time.

A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in high school by telling them the difference they each made. Using a process developed by Helice Bridges of Del Mar, California, she called each student to the front of the class, one at a time. First, she told them how the student made a difference to her and the class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon imprinted with gold letters which read, “Who I Am Makes a Difference.”
Afterwards the teacher decided to do a class project to see what kind of impact recognition would have on a community. She gave each of the students three more ribbons and instructed them to go out and spread this acknowledgment ceremony. Then they were to follow up on the results, see who honored whom and report back to the class in about a week.
One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby company and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a blue ribbon and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons, and said, “We’re doing a class project on recognition, and we’d like you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, then give them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a third person to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell me what happened.”
Later that day the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would accept the gift of the blue ribbon and would give him permission to put it on him. His surprised boss said, “Well, sure.” The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss’s jacket above his heart. As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, “Would you do me a favor? Would you take this extra ribbon and pass it on by honoring somebody else? The young boy who first gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school and we want to keep this recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people.”
That night the boss came home to his 14-year-old son and sat him down. He said, “The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my office and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine. He thinks I’m a creative genius.
Then he put this blue ribbon that says ‘Who I Am Makes A Difference’ on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honor you. “My days are really hectic and when I come home I don’t pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good enough grades in school and for your bedroom being a mess, but somehow tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most important person in my life. You’re a great kid and I love you!”
The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he couldn’t stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, “I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn’t think you loved me. Now I don’t need to.”

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have that money can’t buy. “Today is a gift, that’s why it is called the PRESENT”.

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn’t hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories.

Rudy often came with me and almost every time he’d pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I’d always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands. Rudy knew I loved yellow roses.

With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since Rudy had passed on. Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two.

Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how Rudy had loved his steak. Suddenly a woman came beside me. She was blond, slim and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back. She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks.

She saw me watching her and she smiled. “My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don’t know.” I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. “My husband passed away eight days ago,” I told her. Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice. “Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together.” She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the package in her basket and wheeled away.

I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy. A quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream section near the front of the store. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front.

I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards me. In her arms, she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blonde hair as she kept walking towards me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes.

“These are for you,” she said and placed three beautiful long stemmed yellow roses in my arms. “When you go through the line, they’ll know these are paid for.” She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again.

I wanted to tell her what she’d done, what the roses meant, but still unable to speak, I watched as she walked away, tears clouding my vision. I looked down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found it almost unreal How did she know? Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn’t alone.

“Oh, Rudy, you haven’t forgotten me, have you?” I whispered, with tears in my eyes. He was still with me, and she was his angel.

I’m an actor. To me, acting is a way of life. I have never been obsessed with the strong drive to become a star. Possibly it’s because I came into it very late in life. I was thirty-two years old when I became a professional actor. I was a little more realistic about life. The chances of becoming a star were quite remote. I’ve conditioned myself not to want it, because the odds against it are too great.

Since I came to Tokyo, I’ve never been out of work. I got a contract with a production company when I started my career as an actor. It has been renewed on a regular basis. They’ve had me put in different roles. I went from one thing to another. When I finished a play, there would be a movie. In between there would be TV dramas and commercials. Financially, I’m not concerned. But people who do the hiring can be very rude at times. They have plenty of actors and actresses waiting for work. They’ve had me doing unpleasant jobs, which have made me feel like I’ve had enough. But I always do every job with a smile on my face because I’m an actor. I’m proud of being an actor.