#readers digest

[fuckingwhateverdude]

“desert song” by my chemical romance // “kneeling angel with candlestick” from the sculptures of michelangelo // readers digest: north american wildlife

[lycrabustier]

Don’t force a cable if it doesn’t fit!

From Reader’s Digest Beginner’s Guide to Home Computers, 2002, VHS

[fuddlyduddly]

Illustrations from the Readers Digest Condensed Books edition of The Haunting Of Hill House, by Ben Stahl.

1. Title Page

2. Synopsis

3. About the author

4. Mr. Dudley at the gate

5. In the parlor

6. Waltzing around the statue

7. Fearful of the ghosts

8. Mrs. Montague arrives

9. Eavesdropping on Theo and Luke

10. Climbing the spiral staircase

[writers-potion]

Why I annotate as I read

I used to be someone who never, ever wrote in my books. I didn't bend the spine of my most beloved volumes and made absolutely no doggy ears. While I still stick to my no goddy ear policy, I recently started to enjoy annotations.

Here are some reasons why I started annotating my books, both digital and physical.

Digital books can be a bit boring - so I started annotating them

I can capture fleeting thoughts as I read. Helps me write reviews later.

Color-coding different themes can be quite insightful

When I re-read, I can see how my thoughts changed

Especially for non-fiction, helps me read faster on a 2nd or 3rd re-read.

Because it looks pretty and the book screams, "read!"

Do you annotate your books? Why or why not?

[oldshowbiz]

Reader’s Digest was paid by foreign lobbyists to reprint fascist propaganda.

[hellish-cruelty]

Rich red bedrooms. 🍒

Amélie (2000), Paddington (2014), The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

[4evamc]

So proud of Misha 💙

[balaenabooks]

The photos really don't do this book justice. I don't normally go for Reader's Digest, but this book is just so pretty and in such good condition.

The stories themselves are of varying quality (the stories about people keeping wild animals as pets were particularly dated), but are on the whole pretty wholesome, and occasionally sad.

[susiecards]

1970s Reader's Digest Corporate Art Collection Card Game

Jack of clubs & jack of spades

[skipthepreface]

[truthseeker-blogger]

Wow! What a love story!

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. You know," 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 bright 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.

“Letter in the Wallet,” written by Arnold Fine (1985)

Good Thinking Facebook page

The author passed away in 2014. I'd love to know how true this story is!

[haitianc-da-simmer]

The Family Affairs Ch1. The Lavelle’s part 2 Intro

How could he do this to you? The question rang over and over in Celeste’s head. I’m sorry Reyna you didn’t deserve this,” Celeste cried This is so messed up.

{Knock on the door.}

Dr. Klein enters room...

“Hello, I’m doctor Kline. I’m Reyna’s doctor. Reyna has had several seizures due to her head trauma, since she’s arrived here at the hospital. So to reduce to amount of seizure that were occurring we had to medically induce her into a coma to give her body time to rest and recover. Right now we are monitoring her on the regular and keeping her as comfortable as possible until she wakes up.

Doctor how long do you think she will be in this coma? Asked Celeste. Well, It all depends on the patient. It could be anywhere from 3 days to 6 months or even ten years or more. Its really up to the patient at this point. All we have to do is wait.

Meanwhile.....

Danni and Alani’s Dad is finally out of jail and he’s nothing like what they expected.Danni was unsure how her father would be so she invite Rodrick to be there when he came over.

Turn’s out her father was actually fun loving and caring. Also he’s helpful with baby Blair. Danni started to question that maybe her suspicions were over rated, that maybe her father has turned over a new leaf, who knows. 

START OF STORY:

THE EARLY’S PART 1:

MAIN VIDEO:

The Lavelle’s Part 1:

[fuddlyduddly]

Illustrations from the Readers Digest Condensed Books' edition of Jaws

Source

[kontextmaschine]

Readers Digest "Humor in Uniform" section compiling reader-submitted anecdotes from their time as mall cops

[oldshowbiz]

June 1948.

Reader’s Digest forgave the Nazis.

[shedontlovehuhself]

Misha's book is featured in this article 💙