a Wonderful story

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 <<<Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near
 Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen!
 In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the
 father and head of the household, a goldsmith by 
profession,
 worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any
 other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.
 
 Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht
 Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to
 pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that
 their father would never be financially able to send either
 of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
 
 After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed,
 the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a
 coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and,
 with his earnings, support his brother while he attended 
the
 academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed
 his studies, in four years, he would support the other
 brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork 
or,
 if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
 
 They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church.
 Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. 
Albert
 went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four
 years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was
 almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his
 woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most 
of
 his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was 
beginning
 to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
 
 When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer
 family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate
 Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and 
memorable
 meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose 
from
 his honored position at the head of the table to drink a
 toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice 
that
 had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing
 words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now 
it
 is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your 
dream,
 and I will take care of you."
 
 All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the
 table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face,
 shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed 
and
 repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."
 
 Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. 
He
 glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and 
then,
 holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly,
 "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for 
me.
 Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my
 hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least
 once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so 
badly
 in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return
 your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or
 canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is
 too late."
 
 More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's
 hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point 
sketches,
 watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings 
hang
 in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great
 that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of
 Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar 
with
 it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your 
home
 or office.
 
 One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had 
sacrificed,
 Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused 
hands
 with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He
 called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire 
world
 almost immediately opened their hearts to his great 
masterpiece
 and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
 
 The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, 
take a
 second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need 
one,
 that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!
 -Author unknown 

I enjoyed this one

Henry

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