Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was

allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the

fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other

man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on

end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their

involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And

every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he

would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could

see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods when his

world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the

world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on

the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm

in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced

the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the

distance.

As the man by the window described all this exquisite detail, the man on

the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque

scene. Then one day, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the

other man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he

himself never got to see anything?

It didn't seem fair.

At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed

seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him

sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be

by that window--that thought, and only that thought, now controlled his

life.

Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window

began to cough.

He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the

dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to

call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never pushed

his own button which would have brought the nurse running in.

In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, and along with

that, the sound of breathing. Now there was only silence--deathly silence.

The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths.

When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened

and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed

appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.

The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was

comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up

on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would

have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look

out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who

had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse

responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said,

"Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

You can interpret the story in any way you like. But one moral stands out:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own