Telephone

A man decided to write a book about churches across the United States. First, the man visited a church in California. During his tour of the magnificent building he noticed a golden telephone on a wall with a sign that read $10,000 a minute". Intrigued, he asked about the phone and was told that the golden phone was a direct line to Heaven that could be used to talk directly to God. Next, the man visited a church in New York. Again, he noticed exactly the same type of phone, with exactly the same sign on it. Sure enough, upon inquiry, he was informed that it was a direct line to Heaven and could be used to talk directly to God. Continuing through many other states, he found the same phone with the same sign and was repeatedly told the same story, until, finally, upon arriving at a church in North Carolina, he spotted the usual golden telephone with a different sign. This time, the sign read "Calls 25 cents." He quickly found the preacher and said to him, "I have been in cities all across the country, and in each church I found this golden telephone, was told that it was a direct line to Heaven, and that I could talk God. But, in all the other churches across the country, the charge was $10,000.00 a minute. Your sign reads 25 cents a call. Why?" The preacher smiled at him and said "My son, that's very easy to explain. You see, you're in North Carolina now and, of course, it's a local call from here."

From an 1855 Letter

"The Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. How can you buy or sell the sky--the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. We do not own the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water. How can you buy them from us? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shiny pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people."

"We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of the land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother but his enemy, and his children's birthright is forgotten."

"There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insect wings. But perhaps because I am savage and do not understand, the clatter seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lovely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night."

"The whites, too, shall pass--perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. When the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses all tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men, and the views of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires. Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. And what is it to say good-bye to the swift and the hunt, the end of living and the beginning of survival."

Written to President Franklin Pierce by Chief Sealth of the Duwanish Tribe in the State of Washington.
(An environmentalist that makes sense!)