ONE
The International Magazine for CahnersBoston Worldwide
OUR GREAT CONTRIBUTORS
Where are
They
Now?
In Brief
ABOUT ONE:
The International Magazine Connection to CahnersBoston Worldwide
Is dedicated to the talented people who worked for Cahners Publishing.
The commitment to excellence that these people gave thoughout the history of the company is beyond the scope of most for over 50 years.
Although some have left us, a lot of us are still here in many different fields.
The "ONE" family we call Cahners is still here even though we are not sitting next to each other.
I hope through "ONE " we can exchange memories through pictures, words and videos.
God Bless all of us.
J.R. ( Bob) Murphy
Editor, "ONE "
OUR NEXT
ONE
Principal at Clemons Wood Publishers Representives
Scottsdale AZ
John Clemons
President Advantage Business Media
Arlington Heights IL
December 9, 2014
George Fox
A/R Collections at Mohawk Rubber Sales
Greater Boston Area
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I'd like to thank all the contributors to
ONE especially::
Martha Abdella
Susan Avery
Elizabeth Baatz
Todd Baker
Anne Benedetto
Roger Buckley
Vince Cavasino
Lori Romiza Celentano
Kasey Clark
John Clemons
James Aaron Cooke
Jay Corriveau
Jean Criss
Scott Cunningham
Martha DiMeo
John Dodge
Melissa Carmen Donnelly
Kathy Doyle
Dave Dunbar
Nancy Finn
Michael Fisher
George Fodor
George Fox
Allen Furst
James Fuss
John Galante
Mary-Anne Ganley
Paula Gordon
Dick Groth
Greg Goulski
Gwendolyn Kennedy
Steve Leibson
Jim Leonard
Linda Lepordo
Joan Lynch
Patrica Marador
Charles Masi
Tim Mead
Gilbert Munoz
J.R. Murphy II
Muriel Murphy
Nancy Null
Mike O'Leary
Tom Pickett
Tim Purpura
Frank Quinn
Scott Raymond
Ellen Romanow
Gina Roos
Karen Ruesch
Carole Sacino
Len Scafidi
Tim Scannell
Claire Gillen Stefan
Bill Stevens
Kelly Sullivan
Roz Jacoby Switalski Dorothie Thompson
Tim Tobeck
Carolyn VanCott
Linda Walsh
Pam Winch Wilson
and the 1000 plus exCahns that have contributed from around the world.
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Dorothie Thompson
Author Unknown
Once upon a time, there was a man who worked very hard just to keep food on the table for his family. This particular year a few days before Christmas, he punished his little five-year-old daughter after learning that she had used up the family's only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper.
As money was tight, he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve he saw that the child had used all of the expensive gold paper to decorate one shoebox she had put under the Christmas tree. He also was concerned about where she had gotten money to buy what was in the shoebox.
Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, "This is for you, Daddy!"
As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, now regretting how he had punished her.
But when he opened the shoebox, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. "Don't you know, young lady," he said harshly, "when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something inside the package!"
The little girl looked up at him with sad tears rolling from her eyes and whispered: "Daddy, it's not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full."
The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.
An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept this little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems, he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us has been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.as taught us never to accept pay for a kindness."
'Twas The Day After Christmas
Author Unknown
Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Children sat slack-jawed, bored on the couch.
Wrappings and toys littered the floor,
An incredible mess that I did abhor.
With Mom in her robe and I in my jeans,
We waded in to get the place clean.
When suddenly the window in the front door started to shatter,
I sprang to the Security-View to check out the matter.
The new-fallen snow, now blackened with soot,
Was trampled and icy and treacherous to foot.
But suddenly in view, did I gasp and pant:
An unhappy bill collector and eight tiny accountants.
The door flew open and in they came,
Stern-looking men with bills in my name.
On Discover, on Visa, on American Express,
On Mastercard too, I sadly confess,
Right to my limits, then beyond my net worth,
Over the top I had charged, in a frenzy of mirth.
The black-suited men, so somber, so strict,
I wondered why me that they had first picked.
They stared at me with a look I couldn't miss,
That said "Buddy, when are you for paying for this?"
I shrugged my shoulders, but then I grew bolder,
Went to the cabinet and pulled out a folder.
"As you can see," I said with a smile,
"It's bankruptcy that I'll have to file!"
And with a swoop of my arm, my middle digit extended
I threw the bills in the fire: the matter had ended.
The scent of burnt ash came to my nose,
As up the chimney my credit-worthiness rose.
Without another word they turned and walked out,
Got into their limos, but one gave a shout:
"You may think that's the answer to all of your fears,
But it's nothing you'll charge for at least seven years!
I remembered another story I read from years ago.
I am reprinting so we all can get the true meaning of Christmas.
I hope you feel warm inside after you read it.