Fwd: FW: Reaching Perfection

To: "" <>, Angela Dempsey <>, Corryn Dempsey <>, Debbie Dempsey <>, elizabeth dempsey <>, Andrew Donnery <>, express <>, John Ferguson <>, An Frank <>, Graham <>, Fran Henshaw <>, Gary Henshaw <>, Lee Henshaw <>, Ramona Janson <>, Alex Lester <>, Jane Mcginnes <>, pmiller737 <>, Andrew Pryce <>, mike swift <>, Tom Tarrant <>, TOMJESS <>, stuart white <>
Subject: Fwd: FW: Reaching Perfection
From: John Dempsey <>
Date: Fri, 15 Jun 2001 07:29:49 -0700 (PDT)
Note: forwarded message attached.

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To: Daniel Manning <>, Joanne McKay <>, Stephen Mooney <>, Ann-Marie Rauer <>, Gillian Stokes <>, jenny sutton <>, Julie Trafford <>, Debbie Wilkinson <>, Katie Wilkinson <>, pealing <>, david brown <>, Adele Carroll <>, john dempsey <>, simon gomes <>, Fran Henshaw <>, Gary Henshaw <>, Clare Hughes <>, kath jackson <>, Daniel Jordan <>
Subject: Fwd: FW: Reaching Perfection
From: Corryn Dempsey <>
Date: Fri, 15 Jun 2001 15:23:18 +0100 (BST)
Note: forwarded message attached.

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To: "Donna Bryan \(E-mail\)" <>, "Karen Clarke \(E-mail\)" <>
Subject: FW: Reaching Perfection
From: "Nicola Lester" <>
Date: Fri, 8 Jun 2001 14:15:25 +1000

-----Original Message-----
From: Danielle Reid 
Sent: Thursday, June 07, 2001 1:55 PM
To: Wendy McElroy; Sandy Kormendy; Sandra Cregan; Sandor Kormendy; Regan
McNamara; Rebecca Thurgood; Nicola Lester; Maria Mulford; Kim Pike;
Chris Moir
Subject: Reaching Perfection

In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning disabled
children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career,
while others can be mainstreamed into conventional schools.

 At a Chush fundraising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a
speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling
the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection
in my son, Shay? My child cannot understand things as other children do.  My
child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is

The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish,
stilled by the piercing query.

"I believe," the father answered, "that when a child like this is brought
into the world, the perfection is in the way people react to this child."
He then told the following story about his son Shay:

One afternoon, Shay and his father walked past a park where some boys Shay
knew were playing baseball.

Shay asked, "Do you think they will let me play?"

Shay's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys
would not want him on their team. But Shay's father understood that if his
son was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.

Shay's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Shay
could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his team-mates. Getting
none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are losing by six
runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and
we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay's father was ecstatic as Shay smiled broadly. Shay was told to put on a
glove and go out to play short centre field. Surprisingly, Shay was given
the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible to win because Shay
didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it.
However as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to
lob the ball in softly so Shay should at least be able to make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. One of Shay's
team-mates came up to Shay and together they held the bat and faced the
pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps
forward to toss the ball softly toward Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay and his team-mate swung at the ball and together
they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft
grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay
would have been out and that would have ended the game.  Instead, the
pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond
reach of the first baseman. Everyone started yelling, "Shay, run to first.
Run to first." Never in his life had Shay run to first. He scampered down
the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. By the  time he reached first base,
the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second
baseman who would tag out Shay, who was still running. But the right fielder
understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and
far over the third baseman's head.  Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to

Shay ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled
the bases towards home.  As Shay reached second base, the opposing short
stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run
to third."  As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him
screaming, "Shay run home."

 Shay ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their
shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won
the game for his team. "That day," said the father softly with tears now
rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of perfection."

Funny how people can send a thousand 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread
like wildfire, but when one starts sending messages regarding life choices,
people think twice about sharing.

Funny how the lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene pass freely through
cyberspace, but public discussion of morality is too often suppressed in
school and the workplace.

Funny how when you go to forward this message (if you choose to forward it),
you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure
what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it to them.

Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than
what we think of ourselves. The paradox of our time in history is that we
have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower
viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less
time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge but less
judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to
make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the
street to meet the new neighbour.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've cleaned up the air,
but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice. We have
higher incomes, but lower morals; we've become long on quantity, but short
on quality.

These are the times of tall men, and short character; steep profits, and
shallow relationships. These are the times of world peace, but domestic
warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but
broken homes. It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing
in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this better to you, and a
time when you can choose either to make a difference or just hit delete.

****Keep reaching for that level of perfection****

--- End Message ---

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