【推荐1】Growing up, I knew I was different. My father had left and he never came back. As I later discovered, the abandonment triggered my anxiety attacks. I feared being alone, unwanted, unpopular and unloved.

My first attack came in a ninth-grade class: the teacher asked me to walk in front of the class, but I couldn’t do it-I was soaked in sweat, shaking. My symptoms began every morning from the moment when I stepped inside the school building.

Throughout my childhood, I was no stranger to the doctor’s office. My mother tried everything she could in hope of a breakthrough. There were times when I thought suicide could be the only way to make the pain stop.

By age 16, I had shut down socially. Most of my peers were going to parties, playing sports, and dating. But I was a prisoner in my own home.

Then one Sunday morning, my wake-up call came from a magazine article. Freddie Prince, Jr., was on the cover. The article detailed the pain of losing his father at a young age. I felt as though I were reading my own life story. The only difference? He was now a success.

That article inspired me to explore a new treatment option for myself. I wanted to turn my life around as well. So I hit the library and the Internet,and I began to realize how my negative thoughts controlled my physical well-being.

Immediately, I made a plan to take charge of my life. Shortly after following the items I had listed, I was able to stop seeing a therapist. I never returned to high school, but I did go to college. After graduation, I pursued a career in television news. My relationships have changed for the better, too. I’ve made new friends and reconnected with many from the past.

The anxiety isn’t completely gone, but whenever it returns, I know the feeling will pass, and know I have the power to change my life, only if I give myself a chance.

【推荐3】I’ve just arrived from New York City at the airport in Rome and already I’m lost, wandering left and right and searching for the right exit. I’m supposed to meet my wife Elvira, who lives in Italy now, and then drive to Guardia Sanframondi, the little town where we own a house, to meet our newborn granddaughter Lucia, now all of 11 weeks old.

But I takes a wrong turn, and then another, all in vain. I’m lost for 15 minutes, then 30, and finally about 45, unable to get my passport properly scanned and pick up my luggage. This is more than mildly inconvenient. After all, I’ve just flown more than 4,000 miles, a flight into my future.

But suddenly I see Elvira, who is holding baby Lucia in her arms. I’m found.

I stay in Italy for three weeks. It’s impossible for me to get enough of Lucia, and so I follow a strict agenda(日程). Hold Lucia in my arms. Kiss Lucia all over her face. Wheel Lucia in her carriage in the most public places available. Make faces at her and even sillier gestures and sounds.

Today, at 70, I’m a permanent resident of Italy, with Lucia living a five-minute walk away. We visit her at her house and she visits us at ours almost every day. In most American families, adult children with grandchildren live in different towns and states far away. Italian families, on the other hand, are more likely to live near each other. Sometimes three generations here even stay together in the same home. I’ve happily turned my life upside-down to be a grandpa Italian-style. Lucia is just what I need right about now. If I’m lucky, I’ll be just what she needs, too.