>> >
>> >
>> > (For all the Italians out there, or those who are lucky
>> enough to be
>> > married to an Italian, or even to be friends of Italians!)
>> >
>> > An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While
>> suffering the
>> > agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of
>> his favorite
>> > Italian anisette-sprinkled cookies wafting up the stairs.
>> >
>> > He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from
>> the bed.
>> > Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the
>> bedroom
>> > .
>> > With even greater effort, gripping the railing with both
>> hands, he
>> > crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against
>> thedoor frame
>> > and gazed into the kitchen.
>> >
>> > Were if not for death's agony, he would have thought
>> himselfalready in
>> > heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen
>> > table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette-
>> sprinkled
>> > cookies.
>> >
>> > Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from
>> his devoted,
>> > meticulous and organized love of his Italian wife of sixty
>> years, seeing
>> > to it that he left this world a happy man?
>> >
>> > Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards
>> the
>> > table,landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His
>> parched lips
>> > parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his
>> mouth,
>> > seemingly bringing him back to life.
>> >
>> > The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie
>> at the edge
>> > of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by
>> his
>> > wife.....
>> >
>> > Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> > (For all the Italians out there, or those who are lucky
>> enough to be
>> > married to an Italian, or even to be friends of Italians!)
>> >
>> > An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While
>> suffering the
>> > agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of
>> his favorite
>> > Italian anisette-sprinkled cookies wafting up the stairs.
>> >
>> > He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from
>> the bed.
>> > Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the
>> bedroom
>> > .
>> > With even greater effort, gripping the railing with both
>> hands, he
>> > crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against
>> thedoor frame
>> > and gazed into the kitchen.
>> >
>> > Were if not for death's agony, he would have thought
>> himselfalready in
>> > heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen
>> > table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette-
>> sprinkled
>> > cookies.
>> >
>> > Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from
>> his devoted,
>> > meticulous and organized love of his Italian wife of sixty
>> years, seeing
>> > to it that he left this world a happy man?
>> >
>> > Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards
>> the
>> > table,landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His
>> parched lips
>> > parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his
>> mouth,
>> > seemingly bringing him back to life.
>> >
>> > The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie
>> at the edge
>> > of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by
>> his
>> > wife.....
>> >
>> > Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >