Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime Stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
Speaker 1: I read and write all the stories you hear on
Speaker 1: nothing much happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Witttersheim Housekeeping. First,
Speaker 1: just letting you know if you haven't heard, that the
Speaker 1: order of this intro has shifted a bit. It's a
Speaker 1: move we made out of necessity so that we can
Speaker 1: afford to keep bringing you the podcast. I'll talk you
Speaker 1: through the usual opening, then how to use the show
Speaker 1: and the story summary. Then we'll take a short ad break,
Speaker 1: and all ads should be only in my voice. If
Speaker 1: something else pops up, please know we are working to
Speaker 1: fix it. Then when we come back, I'll tuck you
Speaker 1: in and we'll take our two deep breaths and head
Speaker 1: into the village together. On with the show.
Speaker 2: Now, I have a story to tell you, and it
Speaker 2: will help you to sleep just by listening. Listening gives
Speaker 2: your brain a job to do, and that keeps it
Speaker 2: from wandering. It's the wandering that can keep you up.
Speaker 2: I'll tell the story twice and I'll go a little
Speaker 2: slower the second time through. If you wake later in
Speaker 2: the night, you can play the story again or just
Speaker 2: think through any part of it that you can remember.
Speaker 2: This is conditioning, it's brain training, and it will improve
Speaker 2: with time and practice. Most folks tell us that after
Speaker 2: a few weeks of listening, they are asleep. Before the
Speaker 2: story even starts. They are probably already asleep right now.
Speaker 2: Our story tonight is called Pass It Along, and it's
Speaker 2: a story about a good deed passed from one person
Speaker 2: to another in the village of nothing much. It's also
Speaker 2: about a cardinal on a branch, a cup of tea
Speaker 2: served up by a friend, and sharing the feeling that
Speaker 2: there are others out there eager to help. So please
Speaker 2: get comfortable, Switch off your light, set everything down. You
Speaker 2: got done to day, what you got done today, and
Speaker 2: it is enough. It is now nothing remains but rest.
Speaker 2: Let your shoulders and neck relax, let your limbs soften,
Speaker 2: your face ease, and draw a deep breath in through
Speaker 2: your nose out from your mouth again, Fill it up
Speaker 2: and let it go good. Pass it Along. At the
Speaker 2: end of last year, just before Christmas, I'd been sitting
Speaker 2: in my office watching the snow come down, thick and fast.
Speaker 2: It had been a nice feeling to see downtown lit
Speaker 2: up and bustling below me, folks walking through the snow,
Speaker 2: the shops busy as customers did their shopping. And as
Speaker 2: the afternoon wore on and the flakes kept falling, I
Speaker 2: noticed the cars on the street with several inches of
Speaker 2: fresh snow on their windshield. I grimaced, remembering that my
Speaker 2: old scraper had snapped in two the last time I'd
Speaker 2: used it. I tossed it in the garbage can, saying
Speaker 2: to myself, now, don't forget to pick up a new one,
Speaker 2: or you'll be in trouble next snow. Had I remembered,
Speaker 2: had that note to self stuck in my mind? No,
Speaker 2: not until the exact moment, when I looked down at
Speaker 2: the street. Oh man, I started to strategize, surely I
Speaker 2: could borrow one. The office was nearly deserted so close
Speaker 2: to the holiday, and I walked through the halls looking
Speaker 2: for someone to appeal to. I stuck my head into
Speaker 2: the break room and spotted my colleague filling his tea
Speaker 2: cup at the kettle. Uh do you have a scraper
Speaker 2: in your car? I do, he said back, and I
Speaker 2: sighed in relief, But he went on, and I have
Speaker 2: a feeling that this detail is pertinent. I lent my
Speaker 2: car to my mom for the day I'm walking. I chuckled,
Speaker 2: as Yeah, that detail was indeed pertinent. Right, Well, if
Speaker 2: I can get my car dug out of the snow,
Speaker 2: do you want to ride home? It's coming down pretty
Speaker 2: fast out there. We both looked out through the windows,
Speaker 2: me with a bit of nervousness for my now nearly
Speaker 2: covered car and him with excitement. No thanks, he said.
Speaker 2: I wore my boots and I'm kind of looking forward
Speaker 2: to it. I like getting all bundled up and trekking home. Well,
Speaker 2: let me know if you'd change your mind, I said,
Speaker 2: as I headed back into the hall, this time making
Speaker 2: my way to the broom closet. If worse came to worse,
Speaker 2: I figured I could use the little whisk broom we
Speaker 2: had in there to brush the snow off. The ice
Speaker 2: would eventually melt if I had my defroster up to high.
Speaker 2: It would take some time, but I could do it.
Speaker 2: I had another half hour of work to take care of,
Speaker 2: and I leaned the broom against my desk and went
Speaker 2: back to closing the loops on any unfinished business. We'd
Speaker 2: be off for a couple of weeks, and it felt
Speaker 2: satisfying to tidy up my desk, file away the last
Speaker 2: few papers, and finally close my calendar for the year.
Speaker 2: The light was dimming outside as I started to layer
Speaker 2: on my coat and hat, my gloves and scarf. I
Speaker 2: found my colleague in the hall, tying up his boots,
Speaker 2: excited to start out on his walk home, and we
Speaker 2: took the elevator down together. More folks joined us as
Speaker 2: we crept toward ground level, and that giddy feeling of
Speaker 2: closing up for the holidays was tangible. We all wished
Speaker 2: each other a good break as we stepped out onto
Speaker 2: the street. I turned toward my car, clutching the broom,
Speaker 2: expecting to find just a car shaped mound of white,
Speaker 2: but instead saw that it had been dug out, completely
Speaker 2: cleaned off, and the windshields scraped free of ice, and
Speaker 2: so was the car next to it, and the one
Speaker 2: after that, and so on down the block. A half
Speaker 2: dozen or so of us had been given this gift,
Speaker 2: and I looked up and down the street trying to
Speaker 2: see who had done the giving. A man across the
Speaker 2: street was standing ankled deep in the snow, shoveling around
Speaker 2: the tires of a nearly buried car. When I called
Speaker 2: out to him, he was wrapped up tight in a
Speaker 2: scarf that covered almost all of his face, dusted all
Speaker 2: over with snow, but I could see, even from across
Speaker 2: the street the brightness of his eyes. He seemed lit
Speaker 2: up from what he was doing. Thank you, I forgot
Speaker 2: my scraper today. I would have been out here all night.
Speaker 2: Then I picked the right car, he called back. Traffic
Speaker 2: passed slowly between us, and I felt like I owed
Speaker 2: him something more. Saying thank you didn't quite feel like enough.
Speaker 2: I Ah, I started and stopped, not sure what to say.
Speaker 2: He waved his hand at me, seeming to understand what
Speaker 2: I felt, then pulled down his scarf so I could
Speaker 2: hear him clearly. Just pass it along. Someone passed it
Speaker 2: to me, that's all. Just don't let it drop. I
Speaker 2: smiled and nodded, and headed back to my car. A
Speaker 2: good deed for good deed's sake, challenge accepted. I could
Speaker 2: do that. That night, I'd driven slowly home through the
Speaker 2: snow and stopped at a gas station to buy not one,
Speaker 2: but two scrapers. That way, i'd have a spare in
Speaker 2: case I came across someone else who needed one, and
Speaker 2: that felt like a good start on my mission. But
Speaker 2: what if I didn't find another scraperless soul for a bit?
Speaker 2: I needed to do something a bit more impactful, and
Speaker 2: that brings me to today. I'd been keeping my ears
Speaker 2: and eyes open looking for some need that I could fill.
Speaker 2: And while I'd returned my shopping cart at the grocery
Speaker 2: store and picked up some trash in the parking lot,
Speaker 2: it still felt that I hadn't quite passed it along.
Speaker 2: That favor was stuck in my pocket and it was
Speaker 2: starting to wear through the seams. I'd been peering out
Speaker 2: my front window, watching a cardinal on a branch in
Speaker 2: the Rowan tree, when a delivery van came trundling down
Speaker 2: the road. It stopped at the house kitty corner to mine,
Speaker 2: and the driver got out and started carrying bags up
Speaker 2: to the front porch. I remembered hearing that this particular
Speaker 2: neighbor had taken a bad spell a few days back
Speaker 2: while ice skating. She'd sprained her ankle and would be
Speaker 2: on crutches for a week or two. I saw her
Speaker 2: at the door as the delivery van drove away, looking
Speaker 2: down at the bags of groceries with a stumped look
Speaker 2: on her face. Finally it was my time to shine.
Speaker 2: I slipped into my boots and went through the front door,
Speaker 2: calling to her as I paused to look both ways.
Speaker 2: The relief on her face as she spotted me reminded
Speaker 2: me of my own when I'd found my car shoveled
Speaker 2: out and scraped. This was the gift getting to give
Speaker 2: someone that feeling that they aren't alone and that there
Speaker 2: are others willing to help. She shuffled back as I
Speaker 2: slipped in with the bags, and didn't protest when I
Speaker 2: offered to put her groceries away. I made her a
Speaker 2: cup of tea while I was at it, took out
Speaker 2: the garbage and carried a pail of scraps to her
Speaker 2: compost bin in the backyard. When I handed her the
Speaker 2: cop she sat on the couch with her ankle propped
Speaker 2: up on a pillow. She started to thank me, and
Speaker 2: I said, just pass it along, pass it along. At
Speaker 2: the end of last year, just before Christmas, i'd been
Speaker 2: sitting in my office watching the snow come down, thick
Speaker 2: and fast. It had been a nice feeling to see
Speaker 2: down town lit up and bustling below me folks walking
Speaker 2: through the snow, The shops busy as customers did their shopping.
Speaker 2: As the afternoon wore on and the flakes kept falling,
Speaker 2: I noticed the cars on the street with several inches
Speaker 2: of fresh snow on their windshields. I grimaced, remembering that
Speaker 2: my old scraper had snapped into the last time I'd
Speaker 2: used it, I'd tossed it in the garbage can, saying
Speaker 2: to myself, now, don't forget to pick up a new one,
Speaker 2: or you'll be in trouble next snow. Had I remembered,
Speaker 2: had that note to self stuck in my mind? No,
Speaker 2: not until the exact moment, when I looked down at
Speaker 2: the street. Oh man, I started to strategize, Sure I
Speaker 2: could borrow one. The office was nearly deserted so close
Speaker 2: to the holiday, and I walked through the halls looking
Speaker 2: for someone to appeal to. I stuck my head into
Speaker 2: the break room and spotted my colleague filling his teacup
Speaker 2: at the kettle. Do you have a scraper in your car?
Speaker 2: I do, he said back, and I sighed in relief,
Speaker 2: But he went on, and I have a feeling that
Speaker 2: this detail is pertinent. I lent my car to my
Speaker 2: mom for the day, I'm walking, I chuckled, as yes,
Speaker 2: that detail was indeed pertinent. Right, Well, if I can
Speaker 2: get my car dug out of the snow, do you
Speaker 2: want to ride home? It's coming down fast out there.
Speaker 2: We both looked out through the windows, me with a
Speaker 2: bit of nervousness for my now nearly covered car and
Speaker 2: him with excitement. No thanks. I wore my boots and
Speaker 2: I'm kind of looking forward to it. I like getting
Speaker 2: all bundled up and trekking home. Well, let me know
Speaker 2: if you change your mind, I said, as I headed
Speaker 2: back into the hall, this time making my way to
Speaker 2: the broom closet. If worse came to worse, I figured
Speaker 2: I could use the little whisk broom we had in
Speaker 2: there to brush the snow off. The ice would eventually
Speaker 2: melt if I had my defroster up to high. It
Speaker 2: would take some time, but I could do it. I
Speaker 2: had another half hour of work to take care of,
Speaker 2: and I leaned the broom against my desk and went
Speaker 2: back to closing the loops on any unfinished business. We'd
Speaker 2: be off for a couple of weeks, and it felt
Speaker 2: satisfying to tidy up my desk, file away the last
Speaker 2: few papers, and finally close my calendar for the year.
Speaker 2: The light was dimming outside as I started to layer
Speaker 2: on my coat and hat, my gloves and scarf. I
Speaker 2: found my colleague in the hall, tying up his boots,
Speaker 2: excited to start out on his walk home, and we
Speaker 2: took the elevator down together. More folks joined us as
Speaker 2: we crept toward ground level, and that giddy feeling of
Speaker 2: closing up for the holidays was tangible. We all wished
Speaker 2: each other a good break as we stepped out onto
Speaker 2: the street. I turned toward my car, clutching the broom,
Speaker 2: expecting to find just a car shaped mound of white,
Speaker 2: But instead I saw that it had been dug out,
Speaker 2: completely cleaned off, and the windshield scraped free of ice,
Speaker 2: and so was the car next to it, and the
Speaker 2: one after that, and so on down the block. A
Speaker 2: half dozen or so of us had been given this gift,
Speaker 2: and I looked up and down the street trying to
Speaker 2: see who had done the giving. A man across the
Speaker 2: street was standing ankle deep in the snow, shoveling around
Speaker 2: the tires of a nearly buried car, and I called
Speaker 2: out to him He was wrapped up tight in a
Speaker 2: scarf that covered almost all of his face, dusted over
Speaker 2: with snow, but I could see, even from across the
Speaker 2: street the brightness of his eyes. He seemed lit up
Speaker 2: from what he was doing. Thank you, I forgot my
Speaker 2: scraper today. I would have been out here all night.
Speaker 2: Then I picked the right car. He called back. Traffic
Speaker 2: passed slowly between us, and I felt like I owed
Speaker 2: him something more. Saying thank you didn't quite feel like enough.
Speaker 2: I started and stopped, not sure what to say. He
Speaker 2: waved his hand at me, seeming to understand what I felt.
Speaker 2: Then he pulled down his scarf so I could hear
Speaker 2: him clearly. Just pass it along. Someone passed it to me,
Speaker 2: that's all. Just don't let it drop. I smiled and
Speaker 2: nodded and headed back to my car. A good deed
Speaker 2: for good deed's sake, challenge accept it. I could do that.
Speaker 2: That night, I'd driven slowly home through the snow and
Speaker 2: stopped at a gas station to buy not one, but
Speaker 2: two scrapers. That way, i'd have a spare in case
Speaker 2: I came across someone else who needed one. And that
Speaker 2: felt like a good start on my mission. But what
Speaker 2: if I didn't find another scraperless soul for a bit,
Speaker 2: I needed to find something a bit more impactful. And
Speaker 2: that brings me to today. I'd been keeping my ears
Speaker 2: and eyes open looking for some need that I could fill.
Speaker 2: And while I'd returned my shopping cart at the grocery
Speaker 2: store and picked up some trash in the parking lot,
Speaker 2: I still felt that I hadn't quite passed it along.
Speaker 2: That favor was stuck in my pocket and it was
Speaker 2: starting to wear through the seams. I'd been peering out
Speaker 2: my front window, watching a cardinal on a branch in
Speaker 2: the Rowan tree when a delivery van came trundling down
Speaker 2: the road. It stopped at the house kitty corner to mine,
Speaker 2: and the driver got out and started carrying bags up
Speaker 2: to the front porch. I remembered hearing that this particular
Speaker 2: neighbor had taken a bad spill a few days back
Speaker 2: while ice skating. She'd sprained her ankle and would be
Speaker 2: on crutches for a week or two. I saw her
Speaker 2: at the door as the delivery van drove away, looking
Speaker 2: down at the bags of groceries with a stumped look
Speaker 2: on her face. Finally, it was my time to shine.
Speaker 2: I slipped into my boots and went through the front door,
Speaker 2: calling to her as I paused to look both ways.
Speaker 2: The relief on her face as she spotted me reminded
Speaker 2: me of my own when I'd found my car shoveled
Speaker 2: out and scraped. This was the gift getting to give
Speaker 2: someone that feeling that they aren't alone and that there
Speaker 2: are others willing to help. She shuffled back as I
Speaker 2: slipped in with the bags, and didn't protest when I
Speaker 2: offered to put her groceries away. I made her a
Speaker 2: cup of tea while I was at it, took out
Speaker 2: the garbage and carried a pail of scraps to her
Speaker 2: compost bin in the backyard. When I handed her the cup,
Speaker 2: as she sat on the couch with her ankle propped
Speaker 2: up on a pillow, she started to thank me, and
Speaker 2: I said, just pass it along. Sweet Dreams.