A lovely story.
The public relations department of a beauty products company asked its customers to send pictures along with brief letters, describing the most beautiful women they knew.
Thousands of letters came in. One caught the attention of the employees and was passed on to the president. It was written by a boy from a broken home who lived in a run-down neighbourhood. With lots of spelling errors, an excerpt from his letter read: ‘A beautiful woman lives down the street from me. I visit her every day. She makes me feel like the most important kid in the world. We play checkers and she listens to my problems. She understands me. When I leave she always yells out the door that she’s proud of me.’ The boy ended his letter saying, ‘This picture shows you that she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and one day I hope to have a wife as pretty as her.’ Intrigued, the president asked to see the woman’s picture. His secretary handed him a photograph of a smiling, toothless woman, well advanced in years, sitting in a wheelchair. Sparse grey hair was pulled back in a bun. The wrinkles that formed deep furrows on her face were somehow diminished by the twinkle in her eyes. ‘We can’t use this woman,’ said the president, smiling. ‘She would show the world that our products aren’t necessary to be beautiful.’