Story of an Aging Couple

This is a story of an aging couple
Told by their son who was President of NBC NEWS.*
This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. It is well worth reading, and a few good chuckles are guaranteed. Here goes…
My father never drove a car. Well, that’s not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.
He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
“In those days,” he told me when he was in his 90s, “to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.”
At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:
“Oh, bull shit!” she said. “He hit a horse.”
“Well,” my father said, “there was that, too.”
So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars — the Kollingses next door had a green 1941Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford — but we had none.
My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines , would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we’d ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. “No one in the family drives,” my mother would explain, and that was that.
But, sometimes, my father would say, “But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we’ll get one.” It was as if he wasn’t sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn’t drive, it more or less became my brother’s car.
Having a car but not being able to drive didn’t bother my father, but it didn’t make sense to my mother.
So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father’s idea. “Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?” I remember him saying more than once.
For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps — though they seldom left the city limits — and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn’t seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St.. Augustin’s Church.
She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish’s two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
If it was the assistant pastor, he’d take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests “Father Fast” and “Father Slow.”
After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he’d sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I’d stop by, he’d explain: “The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored.”
If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out — and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, “Do you want to know the secret of a long life?”
“I guess so,” I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
“No left turns,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“No left turns,” he repeated. “Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn.”
“What?” I said again.
“No left turns,” he said. “Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that’s a lot safer. So we always make three rights.”
“You’re kidding!” I said, and I turned to my mother for support.
“No,” she said, “your father is right. We make three rights. It works.”
But then she added: “Except when your father loses count.”
I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
“Loses count?” I asked.
“Yes,” my father admitted, “that sometimes happens. But it’s not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you’re okay again.”
I couldn’t resist. “Do you ever go for 11?” I asked.
“No,” he said ” If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can’t be put off another day or another week.”
My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom — the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
He continued to walk daily — he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he’d fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising — and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died
One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, “You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred.” At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, “You know, I’m probably not going to live much longer.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“Why would you say that?” He countered, somewhat irritated.
“Because you’re 102 years old,” I said..
“Yes,” he said, “you’re right.” He stayed in bed all the next day.
That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
“I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet”
An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
“I want you to know,” he said, clearly and lucidly, “that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have.”
A short time later, he died.
I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I’ve wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
I can’t figure out if it was because he walked through life,
Or because he quit taking left turns. “
Life is too short to wake up with regrets.
So love the people who treat you right.
Forget about the one’s who don’t.
Believe everything happens for a reason.
If you get a chance, take it & if it changes your life, let it.
Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.”
Enjoy life, it has an expiration date

The Search For Self

Everyone is out there these days finding themselves. No one is left minding the store. It's a growing up epidemic. never in our history have so many people become obsessed with the need to know themselves, and never in our history have so many become lost, confused and despairing in the process.
Happily, the past four decades have been times of changing attitudes, values and roles. We are finally able to admit (some still reluctantly) that women are as wise, creative and able as men. We have finally been forced to recognize that they have the right to succeed, grow and to contribute to the extent of their abilities; that for those who so desire, there must be no limitations placed in the way of becoming all that they are able to be.
Things have changed for men, too. They are discovering at last how much better it is to have an efficient, capable and interesting woman around than the somewhat empty role model of wife. Men are finding new joy in sharing full responsibility for the social, economic and psychological climate of their homes and families. They have found that in sharing tasks, for instance, both husband and wife are released for more productive, special and personal time.
These discoveries have forced many to redefine roles, to decry the loss of so many years and to set out with determination to rectify this by dedicating themselves to the task of seeking their true selves.
I've heard of a couple who were happily married for eleven years. Then the wife took a phychology course in personal growth. Through it she was convinced that she was missing life being  simply a wife and mother. She learned the jargon about waste of human potential, the value of the individual, the search for identity. Somewhere out there, she decided, was the woman she wanted to be. Before the class ended she left her husband and their four children in the search for self.
I'm not condemning her actions, In fact, I was equally as eager in my own search. It led me around the world twice. I left family, friends, a promising career and wondered in many countries. I listen to great gurus, I read mystical texts, I studied meditations techniques. I admit that there was value in this. A search is always exciting and full of newness. But along the way I found that my search was not bringing me any closer to finding that elusive me.
Eventually I returned. I had experienced wonderful things, made many mistakes, made wrong decisions and had made many new and lasting friends. I had acquired a great deal of knowledge, but once home found that there was nothing I had discovered in my wondering time that I could not have found in my own backyard. Of course, it would not have been so exotic or dramatic, nor would it have made such exciting dinner conversation. But what I had needed to discover -myself - was always with me.
Understanding oneself is a worthy and commendable goal. But it is not necessary to leave everything and everyone in order to do it. The wife of the couple I mentioned, for example, found that single bars, sexual freedom, loneliness, and mystical teachings afforded her a no more conducive environment to knowing herself than would a sympathetic husband, an understanding family, friends and a secure home.
Change is always difficult. People who feel that they have been denied experiences or made wrong choices and have consequently missed life can become frantic about their sense of loss. Rightfully so. There is no greater loss for all of us than a life unlived. But we should keep in mind, before we leave on a search, that even the philosophies most dedicated to knowing ourselves tell us that self-knowledge and enlightenment can come through making a loaf of bread, growing a beautiful garden, or hearing a piece of music.
Oscar Wilde said that, "Only the shallow know themselves," and he was right. There can be no end to the process of self-discovery if we are continually learning, growing and changing. Knowing oneself is a process, not a goal. No one person or place is more conducive than any other in helping this process along.
The tools are not out there somewhere. They are inside of us. Only we can assume the challenge of our voyage. The experience becomes more valuable and meaningful when we take those we love with us along the way. The search for ourselves takes on real meaning when each day becomes a Bon Voyage party.

The Power Of Words

One of our mightiest possessions is the word. Words have the power to build, to store and create, as well as tear down and destroy. We think with words, we organize our world with words. We communicate with words, we inform with words, we build relationships with words. Our worlds are very much limited by the words we use. Sometimes we become so caught up with words that we forget that they are just symbols for things, and we begin to see them as a substitute for the things they are meant to represent.
in reference to: The Greatest Gift (view on Google Sidewiki)

The Power Of Words

One of our mightiest possessions is the word. Words have the power to build, to store and create, as well as tear down and destroy. We think with words, we organize our world with words. We communicate with words, we inform with words, we build relationships with words. Our worlds are very much limited by the words we use. Sometimes we become so caught up with words that we forget that they are just symbols for things, and we begin to see them as a substitute for the things they are meant to represent.

It's important to remind ourselves that words are just phonetic symbols put side by side. By themselves they're nothing. Most of the words we know were learned before we were six or seven years old, to early to fully analyze or understand them. These words were defined for us and we accepted them as presented. For example, if the significant people in our lives felt strong hate toward a particular person or thing, the words they taught us concerning these things became part of our attitude as well. The words soon represented a constellation of thoughts and feelings surrounding those things. Soon we found that were thinking and responding negatively to them. Of course, this couldn't be helped. Nevertheless, it was in this way that we learned what to hate or fear or avoid.

Just as we acquired the words for goodness, hope, optimism, joy and love, we ;earned also to attach negative symbols and discovered early the power of directing them we pleased. We found that words could hurt. As a child, I can remember the standard retort for words bullies: Sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me! Occasionally this brought a rock or a stick my way, but it was more difficult not to feel the sting of such words as skinny freak, dumb retard. I wonder how many of us still feel the pain of labels that devastated us long ago.

Perhaps one of the great human tragedies is that few of us even stop to ask whether the words we think with and which cause us to fee so strongly are ours or simply echoes which continue to reverberate in our minds. If we stopped to redefine these words, we might discover that many of them are no longer relevant to the present. Words we learned as children may have prevented us from truly experiencing and understanding other persons or things as they really are. For many of us these words continue to serve in their capacity to reject, exclude and judge.

The great humanitarian-scientist, Buckminster Fuller, said that one of the most significant events of his life was when he stopped everything and wrote his own dictionary. He redefined words according to his experience, as what they represented in his reality, not that of others. This effect forced him to re-examined his values and reassess his attitudes. I gave him a far deeper appreciation of the power of words for the remainder of his life.

As adults we know that certain behavior is discarded early in life because it is childish and inappropriate. As wise adults we learn that certain words and labels should be discarded as well because they are hurtful or destructive, and if that means passing the opportunity to tell the latest joke, then we are all the more fortunate for that insight.

There can be no word large enough to encompass the wonder of a human being. To judge others by a single label is to miss them entirely. As a child I may have been a Latin immigrant, or skinny, or a number of things, but I was much more than each one of them. Thanks goodness for those special individuals who learned to look beyond the labels and to know me as a whole person. It's not surprising that they turned out to be the people most worth knowing.

Words so often desensitize us. They can paralyze our senses as well as our better instincts. Words are powerful things which too often take casually. They were created to help us give organization to chaos. But, unless we are careful, they become traps which lead us to apathy, hate and loneliness. we mustn't allow words to control us. They are our tools to enlarge, not narrow, our lives.

Love for Being With Self

I'd like to believe that we are by nature social creatures. Anyone who has ever experienced loneliness - and among us who hasn't - will agree with that. We need each other. But as much as we need to be with each other, we also need to be alone from time to time.

in reference to: The Greatest Gift (view on Google Sidewiki)

Love for Being with Self

I'd like to believe that we are by nature social creatures. Anyone who has ever experienced loneliness - and among us hasn't - will agree with that. We need each other. But as much as we need to be with each other, we also need to be alone from time to time. The thought is expressed beautifully by Paul Tillich. In his book, Courage To Be, he writes, "Our language has wisely sensed the two sides of being alone. It has created the word loneliness to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word solitude to express the glory of being alone."

One of the absolute essentials of my life is to have time to myself. Time to collect scattered thoughts, time for quiet contemplation, time to think things through, or time to just go along at my own pace. To me, it's  a very reasonable demand of the body and the mind that I disengage from everything and everyone occasionally. It's amazing how often I am criticized for this trait. I, say my critics, who love people so much, have no right to be a private person.

This requirement is not new for me. I discovered it early. In my childhood, in my birth country, there were the day-long excursions up into the mountains, near town, the hours of exploring whatever came into a view or grasp, completely absorbed in my environment. There were very special trees that had the most accommodating branches for climbing and for building my own little fortress of solitude, way up high. When I really needed to be alone, that was my place.

I still like to break away on my own and wander to places that invite exploration. Sad to say, I'm less inclined to climb trees these days, but the stars seem just as close and glorious from the backyard of our house, and it's a great deal less strenuous.

I manage to get away by myself few days every now and then. It's a need that reasserts itself at appropriate intervals of my life. I divorce myself from newspapers, TV, telephone, Blackberry, even though it's not always easy to leave these things behind. for me, doing this has its rewards.

First of all, there is the absolute splendor of no static from the outside. Getting far enough away from the sounds of the city means an opportunity to listen to my own heart and mind. I sometimes forget their sound in the constant roar of daily life. Having experienced this for a week or so, the renewing effect it has on my mind and body is unmistakable. Being cut off from a week's worth of news, and the calamities and carnage that are its mainstays, is a very special kind of therapy.

It's most enlightening to discover that, like a never ending soap opera, nothing is really missed by failing occasionally to keep current. In fact, separating oneself from the woes of the world can do wonders for one's outlook and general mood. One returns refreshed and optimistic!

It's so easy to become wrapped up in a routine of people an places that we neglect the all-important time of separation. Even when we find ourselves alone we are sometimes prone to fill the empty space with the chatter of a television set, or the Internet or plugged in MP3 player, almost as if we were afraid of the quiet.

We forget that there is an inner music that's nice to listen to sometimes. Thomas Edison said of his deafness that it was an asset because from it he learned to listen from within. All of us, to some degree, suffer from a different kind of deafness that is caused by ignoring or closing off those inner channels. Solitude is an excellent way of improving our hearing.

Passion for Loving

Perhaps it's time to look again at the ways and power of love.

in reference to: http://www.weebly.com/weebly/main.php (view on Google Sidewiki)

Passion for Loving

Perhaps it's time to look again at the ways and power of love. For many, just the thought that love is a real possibility gives hope to what could otherwise be an empty life. What harm can come from mutual respect, gentleness, goodness, trust and peaceful coexistence? Think about it. Only love has the power to unite without taking away another's dignity, another's self. Only love holds no jealous possession over people and nations. Only love is capable of putting humanity before ideology or race. Only love can supply the endless energies required to overcome hunger and despair.

"Love one another". These words were spoken more than two thousand years ago. Powerful though this command is, many of us have succeeded in ignoring it for these many years. We all give lip service to it but few of us expect anyone to really practice it. We leave that to madmen and saints.

In fact, we have become suspicious of lovers and either dismiss them as naive and irrelevant, or we see them as phonies. We are certain that no one could really care about anyone else without having some ulterior motive. The qualities of love such as tenderness, commitment, concern, generosity, and trust are relegated to the realm of platitudes and are ignored.

Today the phrase "lone one another" takes on a more urgent tone. It seems to me that we must love one another or die. Modern society shrugs off still another plea for love. It is amused by the suggestion that the world could be cemented together, not by the threat of holocaust or an arm race, but through a deep respect for life. No one will deny that we have reached a critical point in our history. In fact, there are growing numbers of fatalists who believe we have reached a point of no return. One thing is painfully obvious. Conventional methods to bring peace and understanding to our world have failed.

The more we look about us, the more we find hate, violence, prejudice and disregard for human life, more than one hundred million people were killed just alone in the 20th century alone, this doesn't include the people who died in natural disasters. We listen to newscasters and read columnists who deal out statistics about war dead, starvation, children being abused and sacrificed, disregard for human dignity and human rights. And all with about as much feeling as report of the day's football scores. We have become conditioned to a whole spectrum of wasted human potential. still, we continue to ignore love as possible alternative.

A friend of mine was telling me a story that happened during one of his trip to the old Soviet Union, he met a man in Moscow that said to him,"Why do you want to kill us?" he tried to make him understand that he wanted to kill no one, that he celebrated life, not death. Somewhere buried in our respective ideologies were two people trying to relate their very real and very human concerns-not only for the world, but for each other as individuals. Through the magic of caring communication, they accomplished a victory of sorts- they both forgot about all the things that separated them and were soon lost in one another. At that instant all contradictions and symbols were refuted. They both choose life.

I am sure that many would respond to this as naive and unrealistic; that love is barely strong enough to maintain most close family relationships and beyond that, the heart is strained to its limits. So it is ridiculous for anyone to count on the power of love for a solution to international problems. I've often been told that in my zeal to love everyone I risk ending up loving no one. Nothing can be farther from the truth. Universal love is not only possible, it is the most complete love of which we are capable as human beings.

But love can only work when we give up the antiquated mindsets which continue to paralyze us. We need to challenge the sophisticates who view it as romantic nonsense, idealistic bosh, unscientific and anti-intellectual. We need to accept love in our live as the most universal force for unification and good, accessible to all who really want it.

Only then we will discover that love, fully realized, has the power to lay aside the petty things which separate us and reveal the fact that our enemy  has a face and a heart. It is at this point that all things again become possible.

Discouragement=Perseverance

I don't imagine there is anyone fully alive who has not felt discouraged. The word discourage is defined as to deprive of courage, hope or confidence. Phrases such as, "it's not worth it," I can't", "I give up," I've failed," are standard. None of us is a complete stranger to feelings of hopelessness. It is ussually because we feel disappointed or trapped or have lost our sense of direction and hope for the future.

Discouragement is a very human attribute. We need not censure ourselves for feeling it. But it is important to know that no matter what the circunstances that have brought us to this point, they are not insurmountable. The world is full of possibilities, there is hope. Even the most successful and happiest people can tell you about having spent time questioning themselves, their values and their abilities. But they have never lost the capacity to hope.

There is a man whom we all know. His history goes as follows: twice he failed in business. He run for the state legislature and for congress twice and failed. He was defeated twice in Senate races. He worked hard to become Vice President of the United States with no success. The woman he loved died when she was very young. Eventually he suffered a nervous breakdown. Through all of this he has the self-knowledge and strength to overcome adversity, continue with life and become president. His name, of course, is Abraham Lincoln.

We are inspired by such a message. Bur we are not all Lincolns. Still, there is much to be learned by his example and the examples of other survivors. Because something goes wrong does not mean that it's the end of the world. In fact, it may be the challenge we need to awaken us to our strengths. The real dilema is feeling that there is no way to turn, no place to go, no one to help us. What is important to remember is that thare are many solutions to every problem. we are not perfect and may make mistakes but all things come to an end. Armed with this knowledge we are half way to a solution.

There were many times in my life that could have been devastating for me and my entire family. Times when i lost my job, when there was no money even for bare necessities, when things truly looked hopeless. In soite of, or perhaps especialy because of, those times, never allowed myself  and my family to lose our sense of humor, sense of self, or the assurance that we'd find a way. Somehow we always did.

I was fortunate to have learned this early in life. I know after experiencing discouragement, the first thing I try to do is keep in mind that nothing last forever, that only I can decide what I can do to make things batter. With this  hope and faith in the future I'm off and running, again seeking new solutions.

I believe that the truly healthy person is the one who has the greatest number of alternatives for any behavior. We are limited only by our willingness to discover those alternatives. Let's say that we find ourselves in tears. There is nothing wrong with tears. They often sharpen our ability to see. We then need to ask ourselves is crying forever is what we want to do. If not, we must consider what else we can possibly do to help ourselves and solve our problem.

We can consider possible alternatives. It may be helpful to find what others have done in similar situations. with a list of alternatives in hand, we will feel less trapped and more in a position to decide what is best for us.

Finaly comes the greatest step: We must do something. In action comes true knowledge and a wonderful sense of freedom. We are never really trapped. Discouragement at times seems inescapable. But, to remain in this state is a waste of time, energy and life. We can learn to put discouragement aside. When we do, we can get on with life.

Passion for a Better World

Too often our sensibilities are assaulted and bludgeoned by all that seems bad in the world - the T.V. bulletins of the day's horrors, the full, graphic story we get by watching the eleven o'clock news.

Why do we allow ugliness to assume such overriding importance in our lives? If we don't cast it out with determination, it will surely blind us to all the bright reality around us. If only we could step out of our perceptual traps and see that beauty and goodness comprise at least an equal part of what there is. What a miracle would unfold in this world of negativity if we all subscribed to this one simple idea!

What would be do without our dreams? how would we get through even one day without them?

Of course, I'm told that healthy individuals face reality head on, that to live with illusions is a very dangerous thing, that the world is a serious business and doesn't have room for dreamers. Well, I don't believe it. it's not a problem as long as we know the difference between illusion and dellusion.

for many of us, reality can frequently be a bit too real. In fact, we are often tossed about y the whims of an incomprehensible, often cruel reality. We may be forced to face poverty, danger, illness, impending death, lack of love, loneliness-the list seems endless. Illusions can be great help in handling these situations.

All of us live with illusions. They abound in places like Atlantic City or Las Vegas. I'm not referring to professional or compulsive gamblers, just the thousands of individuals sitting hopefully, hour after hour, at the one-armed-bandits, dreaming of hitting the jackpot. We know full well that the odds are against us, but we're sure the prize is just one more nickel, dime, quarter or dollar away. When asked why we do it, we say that it's just a form of recreation, that gambling is fun. But in the back of our minds is the newspaper story about the person who last year hit the million dollars jackpot. So we stay in the noisy, sometimes smoky room and try to stick it out. No real harm done-in fact, we are quite ready to do the same on our next visit.

It is often the hope of finding that certain someone that keeps the single people going to special bars, church socials, community events. Without these activities, which suggest that someone may be waiting at the very next turn, they might never break free from their past. That kind of illusion can't be too wrong.

I have a good friend who has a terminal illness. Not long ago she was told that his condition would worsen progressively. She had a dream, not a delusion, that getting back to his friends, family, job and old lifestyle would give him the additional moment he needed for life. So far he's been right, much to the amazement of his physicians.

I can't even imagine a world without those dreamers who have the feeling that things will be better tomorrow. With that feeling comes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy and causes us to work actively to make things better.

I'm not suggesting that we all start living an illusion, but it's an interested psychological finding that one hundred per cent realists are often among the most depressed person in society. I'll take healthy illusions any day. If our dreams cause us to become active seekers and partakers of life, setting up the necessary contingencies for making things happen, than they can be positive forces which are conductive to happiness and growth.

We might learn a lesson from Snow White. She dreamed that someday her Prince would come. But in the meantime, in place of moping around, she had a good life with the Seven Dwarf!