When I posted about the movie, "The Pursuit Of Happyness", I thought I was done with it. But comments about it I can feel with my heart tell me there's more to be said.

I had learned this movie was about a real person, and being such a hang in there, go getter kind myself, I really admired that about him. My daughter, Barb at a Chelsea Morning pointed out two things so significant about the story. Her recollection of the father and his son sleeping in a public bathroom, because they had nowhere else to go, and the break neck speeed the father kept up throughout the movie. When the cameras honed in on his face, and his silent tears slowly fell, my well clothed comfortable gut felt ike it was lying on the bathroom floor next to him.

Early in the movie I noticed everything seemed to move too quickly, almost frantically, and I think this portrayed two things; the man's desperation to care for his son, and the atmosphere of the workplace of stockbroker trading.

Because this story is about a real person, I have to watch it again, so I can remember the face of someone who hung on to his dream, no matter what got in the way of it. His expression when he realized he had done it, wiped away the desperation he let himself think of only a moment on the bathroom floor, before he took the next uncertain step forward to the freedom of reaching his goal.

At the risk of repeating myself, but hoping you'll understand, let me tell you of a time in my life, and one simple decision that made, and continues to bring about tremendous good for at least four generations. I'm convinced much of what we do has little to do with ourselves, even though in our limited thinking, we might not agree at the time we make a decision, or do something.

Daughter, Barb had come to Denver, from eloping to North Dakota. The other members of our family were still down in Texas, where I longed for something better for all of us, and I was more than a little upset, about not knowing anything about a son inlaw I hadn't even met. So I figured out a way to get to Denver, while hoping God understood that I lied about younger daughter Bev's age. It was the only way we'd have enough money for the trip. (Bev's at "Scratchin' the Surface").

I considered seeing if there were Postal job openings, since both my husband and I worked for it, but the son inlaw's work hours made it hard to do, and soon the days were almost gone, and the next morning little Bev and I would board a greyhound back to Texas.

At first I told myself she and I should at least see part of Denver, before leaving it. But something in me, perhaps like the "Happyness" father felt, a glimmering hope no stronger then than the legs of a newborn calf stretched itself out, and I found a bus that would take us to the downtown Denver post office.

Bev and I didn't do any sightseeing the rest of that day, that mostly began when I left her standing outside the postmaster's office door, pointing out probably too many times, for her to not talk with anyone while she waited there for me. I didn't know if it was alright to bring a child to a job interview.

The Post Master asked me one question: Did I know how to sort mail by hand. Recently they had initiated using letter sorting machines, but still needed people like me who worked the mail before the LSM was invented.

I told the PM to talk with my old boss, and they'd see I was a good employee, and he did, and while you're at it, I said to him, to talk with them about my husband who is a mail man. "He's a very good carrier". So Bev and I walked out of the building, where I stopped a minute to wipe the finger printing stuff off my hands, and I knew where we'd go next. Tourists carry cameras, even little cheap ones. So I found a streetside mail box, and got Bev to capture the moment I realized we were coming to Denver. Of course, I would need to convince her father of this, but once a dream takes flight, there is no keeping it down.

I still have that picture. It's edges are almost as wrinkled as me, and when I need courage propped up stronger than I feel it is at the time, I take a long look at the young woman I was then, and think of all the mental mountains I've climbed, and though I felt alone in it then, realize Someone was at my side, and think how proud God must have been when, in spite of my many failures and wrongs, once in a while, I made a decision that has caused all the difference.

Do you have one, and if you do, I hope it's a very big one. When I die, whenever that is, please bury me someplace there's a great view of this town, but until then, I have other dreams and goals to pursue that began on a greyhound to Denver.