【推荐1】One hot night last July, when our new baby wouldn’t or couldn’t sleep, I tried everything I could think of a warm bottle, songs gentle rocking. Nothing would settle him down. Guessing that I would have a long night ahead of me, I brought a portable (便携式)TV into his room, figuring that watching the late movie was as good a way as any to kill off the hours till dawn. To my surprise, as soon as the TV lit up, the baby quieted right now, his little eyes focused brightly on the tube. Not to waste an opportunity for sleep, I then walked out of the room, leaving him to watch the actors celebrate John Bellushi’s forty-fifth birthday.

My wife and I heard no more of the baby that night, and the next morning when I went into his room, I found him still watching TV himself. I found in my baby’s a metaphor(启示)for the new generation. My wife and I had given him some books to examine, but he merely spit upon them. When we read to him, he did not feel comfortable. And so it is in the schools. We find that our students don’t read, that they look down upon reading and scold those of us who teach it. All they want to do is watching TV.

After this experience with the baby, however, I have reached a conclusion: “Let them watch it!” If television is that much more attractive to children than books, why should we fight it? Let them watch all they want!

【推荐2】Four years ago, my sweet mom went to be with her Lord. She did it her way.

I got the call at work, and I headed home quickly. Mom and Dad lived on a small farm that they had owned since I was seven. I hated going there every weekend. There was nothing for a young girl to do but watch the one station on the old TV set, if the weather allowed reception.

My mom, on the other hand, loved the peace and quiet of the land. The place was rustic(乡村的), with no indoor plumbing or heat. We had a big wood stove in the kitchen that did its best to heat the little farmhouse, but it always seemed cold and too quiet to me.

In the evenings, my mom and I would sit for hours singing in the little kitchen. I sang the melody and Mom harmonized. Her favorite song was “Moon River” and we sang it over and over. Mom told me stories about how when I was a little girl, I could sing before I could talk.

As time passed, I had my own children and went to visit them every week or two. The kids loved the farm and the tractor rides with my dad. Me, well, I still hated the silence of the farm. While my mom loved to sit at her kitchen table and look out at her garden and flowers and retell all the old stories, I missed the hustle and bustle(喧闹)of my life at home. But I sat there listening quietly as she reminisced.( 叙旧)

Now, I sat back in the silence and the silence was deafening so I finally leaned over to turn on an old radio. Music always comforted me. My heart skipped a beat. “Moon River” was playing on the radio. I sat there stunned,with a tear running down my cheek, as I listened to every familiar note.

Then the radio announcer came on. “Here’s one we haven’t heard in a while,” and an unfamiliar song began. I began to cry harder as I heard the words sung over the airwaves.