【推荐1】Jerry was born on October 14, 1966. Shortly after birth, he was discovered to have a heart defect (缺陷) and quickly had an operation to save his life. Although he always thought his childhood to be “normal”, there were quite a few things that made him a little different. He couldn’t do heavy farm work like his brothers and his classmates called him “grape juice” because his lips would turn purple in gym class.

After another operation, Jerry went on to live a very full life. He studied in a technical school and met his love after graduation. They married in 1989, and in 1993, the first light of Jerry’s life was born.

Growing up with Jerry as my dad was the greatest blessing of my life. He was always full of life and light, making anyone around smile. He never wanted to draw attention to his medical condition. Even many of his close friends and co-workers were unaware of his heart problem. To all of us he was just a normal guy — that was just the way he wanted it.

I didn’t know or understand my father was sick until he was placed a pacemaker (心脏起搏器). Despite several times of unconsciousness, and 19 days’ stay in ICU, he managed to celebrate Christmas with us and even work as usual. With his wide laugh, I soon adjusted to a “new normal” father. The progress and life, as we now know, came to a grinding halt one night after he came down with a cold.

He was picked up by a helicopter. The nurse said my dad was in good spirits throughout the trip, cracking jokes and making her laugh. When he was unloaded, his eyes rolled back and was unresponsive. The man who loved his life and family was gone.

My dad taught me many lessons. But probably the most important one was in his death. I know as I celebrate his incredible life, he will be looking down on me with smile.

【推荐2】How did one man prove that small kindnesses add up?

My family first met Wally Urtz, the gentle, modest manage of our local supermarket, on a windy day nearly 20 years ago just after we’d moved to Hasting-on-Hudson, a New York City suburb. As my wife made her way to the store’s exit, attending her groceries and two small children, Wally rushed up beside her. “I’ll get those, young lady,” he said brightly, taking her bags and leading her to the parking lot. Now that may seem like no big deal-except that these days things like that so seldom happen.

Our story, as it turned out, was typical Among Hasting’s 8,000 people living here, almost everybody had at least one about Wally’s politeness and generosity. There ware the times he’d reach into his own pocket when someone was short of money; the times he’d show small kindnesses to someone who’d just lost a loved one or who was in the middle of divorce; the many, many times he’d put himself out for older people.

“He just appreciated that when people get older, their lives get smaller-they don’t drive, their friends have passed on and how much it means to be treated warmly,” one woman, Kathy Dragan said, “When my mother was in her 80s, it was a treat for her to go to the store.” Wally would call out to the shop clerk and say, “You give her whatever attention she needs.” She’d tell me, “He’s kinder to me than some people I’ve known all my life.”

Yet few of us fully understood what Wally meant to the people’s life of our community-until he was sent to another store 20 miles away. For some unknown reason, the Food Emporium chain had decided to replace 67-year-old Wally after 26 years due to “operational issues related to operating a store the size of the one in Hastings.”

No one could believe it. Word spread quickly. Neighbors called each other seeking the feeling of emotional comfort. Some planned to bring Wally back and staged protest marches outside the store. Other flooded the local newspaper with angry letters. The mayor look up the cause. Even the police tried to set things right.

A grocer seems an unlikely figure to set of such an emotional outpouring. What he did shows the remarkable effect Wally-a man of endless warmth and good humor-had on people.

【推荐3】I was terribly shy as a child. I couldn’t bear to be noticed and if I spoke people would notice me, so I spoke as little as possible. About four years ago, I was hanging out with my friends on a playground. I noticed two little girls, who came to play near where we were. The elder sister pulled the younger girl away from us but couldn’t go far, as her sister threw herself on to the ground crying and refusing to get up. I was longing to comfort her but felt unable to do so.

Then I thought: Why am I waiting for someone to give me permission to do what I feel is right? I went over to the little girl and held out my hand. I had merely intended to help her up first but instead she pulled me down into a tight hug. I instantly felt the surge of her emotions flood through me. We knelt on the ground hugging tightly for what felt like a longtime; at one point I tried to move away but she wouldn’t let me go. The elder girl had run off, and reappeared with a man I took to be their father. She pointed at me accusingly (谴责地). It occurred to me that he would probably be angry at a stranger hugging his child and might shout at me or even hit me. I then decided that it didn’t matter if he did hit me. At that moment, the only thing that mattered in the world was comforting the little girl in my arms.

To my surprise, the man wasn’t angry. He just nodded and held his arms out to his child. She calmed down and went to him willingly. He carried her away and the sister followed them. I watched them disappear into the crowd.

That day, I learned that I can speak, and if-I can’t speak, I can take action, which is often easier. I still find speaking difficult. But now I know that if I need to, I can.