Vernon and Muriel were driving from Bismarck to Albuquerque for their granddaughter’s high school graduation. After a few hours on the road, they were tired and hungry, so they stopped at a restaurant for lunch.
They’d been back on the road for about fifteen minutes when Muriel realized her glasses were missing.
“I must have left them at that restaurant,” she said. “We’ll have to go back.”
“Confound it, Muriel, you’re always losing things!” Vernon fumed as he looked for a place to turn around. All the way back to the restaurant he berated her for her forgetfulness. Muriel, who had been putting up with Vernon’s bad temper for fifty years, sat silently ignoring him.
Finally they arrived at the restaurant, and Muriel started to get out of the car so she could retrieve her glasses. As she did, Vernon called after her, “While you’re in there, you might as well get my hat and wallet.”
Mildred had attended mass faithfully all her life, but shortly after her 105th birthday, she stopped going. The priest was concerned at her absence and went to call on her.
To his relief, he found Mildred in excellent health. He asked her why she had stopped coming to mass.
“Well, Father,” she said, “when I got to be 90, I really expected God to take me any day. But then I got to be 95, then 100, and then 105. So I figured God’s been really busy and must have forgotten about me, and I don’t want to remind Him.”