I filled my whole childhood with two things. My love for red meat and football. Back then, my room walls were full of posters of my favorite player, Webster Slaughter.

One cold winter, I went with my dad to the nearby mall so he could buy a new coat. We didn’t have a lot of money, but my mom convinced my dad to replace his old coat, which had some pretty sizable holes. I was only eleven, but my memory of that day remains vivid. As we approached the mall, a huge figure caught my eyes. The man was wearing a black jacket and sunglasses, but I immediately recognized him. It was Webster Slaughter.

My heart pounding, I could barely contain my excitement. I looked up at my hero, and in a shaky voice said, “You're Webster Slaughter, right?"I excitedly told him that I was his big fan and he was my favorite player. He smiled but began to walk away saying being in a big hurry. Desperately,I yelled to his back for an autograph (亲笔签名),but he kept going.As fast as he had emerged, he was gone.

“Nothing really, he was in a hurry,” Dad comforted me gently. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a bunch of crumpled (皱巴巴的) bills and handed me a few dollars. He told me to go play at the arcade (拱廊) while he picked out a coat.I grabbed the money and wandered off. About half an hour later, my dad came for me and we headed home. Once there he opened the shopping bag in his hand.

He told me that he had a surprise and reached into it. “After you left, guess who I ran in- to?” he said with a smile on his face. I just stared blankly. “Webster Slaughter came into the store and said he saw me with you. He asked where you were and I said you were at the arcade. He said he went back to his car to get this for you, but you were gone.”

He pulled his hand out of the bag and in it was a Webster Slaughter’s signed photo.

My first emotion was angry that I had been cheated by my father.

“Howie! You can’t go in! Mom told us to avoid Mrs. Carrigan’s house at all costs! We can’t go in there,” Howie’s big brother, Archie, yelled at the boy who had entered the older woman’s yard upon seeing her Halloween decorations.

The little kid turned and looked at his two big brothers angrily. “But she put up decorations. She wants us to come in,” Howie said, pointing at the pumpkins in the yard and the trick-or-treat sign on her doorway.

“Come out, Howie! Let’s go! I think Mom thinks she’s a ... a witch,” his other big brother, Bobby, whispered the last part. “What? Are you afraid of her?” Howie laughed, knowing that his brothers would not like that. He saw their frowns, but his words were true. They were afraid. No one in the neighborhood went into Mrs. Carrigan’s house or even stayed close.

The old woman was strange. She only dressed in black and never brushed her hair. She couldn’t walk straight and never smiled at anyone, so people avoided her the few times she was seen outside. But Howie was not afraid. He was going to knock. The worst that could happen was being ignored or told to go away. Despite his big brothers’ words, he went up the tiny steps and rang the doorbell.

“Howie! Howie! No!” his big brothers whisper-yelled at him from the sidewalk, and Howie turned and put his finger to his mouth, signaling for them to shut up. But he saw their eyes widen and their faces pale even beneath the Halloween makeup they were all wearing. Howie felt something behind him and turned slowly, not knowing what to expect. He felt the cold air; he felt like ringing the bell was not a good idea.

The old woman was there, staring at him surprisedly. He saw her black clothes, and he knew precisely why everyone thought she was a witch. She looked like the ones in cartoons. But Howie squared his shoulders, raised his plastic pumpkin bucket, and said, “Trick or Treat!”

Mrs. Carrigan stared at him for a few seconds.

“Guys! Come here! There are lots of candies!” Howie shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his hands.

Ten miles away stood a house with shiny red walls, a green garden and an apple tree. A young girl’s face would be seen reflecting from one of the large glassy windows. Her name is Maggie. Her eyes were sparkling and on her face there was a smile which could light a million candles. She seemed to be longing for a chance to play like a young child, but she had no strength in her legs because she and her family met with an accident, in which she lost both her legs.

But her spirit was strong. She would be inspired by seeing birds fly. The flying eagle would make her want to fly. She was lonely. She longed for a true friend who would talk to her and teach her to fly or at least tell her stories about soaring into the blue sky.

One evening, Maggie slowly rolled her wheelchair to the giant window and looked out to the many houses that lay across the road. Suddenly she heard someone singing and then could see an old man in a pilot suit singing in glory. The beautiful sound and the melody made the little girl happy. Suddenly he stopped and gazed up toward her. “What are you staring at?” he said angrily. “You think I’m a circus clown? (马戏团小丑)” “No, Sir. I was just listening to you. You sing very well,” she said. “I don’t need your praises. I don’t need anyone!” he shouted. He started to walk to his house and shut the door. Tears rolled down from her apple-red cheeks as the man shouted at her. She was lonely.

Next morning, Maggie pushed her wheelchair across the garden to the stone road as little children played hide-and-seek around her. Suddenly out of nowhere a loading truck came rumbling across toward her. Terrified, she tried to move away from its path but the wheels of her chair were stuck. “Oh my,” she thought as the truck came in her direction fast, with the driver unaware of the obstruction in front of him. She screamed loudly but in a split second she was pulled out of her wheelchair by someone and fell on the ground. She closed her eyes and shivered as the truck passed her whistling. As she opened her eyes, she could see a man standing beside her.

She gazed up to him and immediately recognized him as the man she saw singing last night.

Maggie got to know his name was Ken and that he was a retired pilot.

Christmas was the one day of the year when the children did not work and received a gift. A gift for each child-something to call their own. This special gift was an orange. John had been in the orphanage (孤儿院) long enough to look forward with delight and expectations of this special day of Christmas and to the orange he would receive. To John and his orphan friends, an orange was a rare and special gift. It had an unusual aroma (芳香) of something they smelled only at Christmas. The children prized it so much that they kept it for several days, weeks, and even months-protecting it, smelling it touching it and loving it. They tried to taste and preserve it for so long that it often rotted before they ever peeled (剥皮) it to enjoy the sweet juice.

Usually. John slept with his orange next to his pillow. He would put it right by his nose and smell of its goodness, holding it gently and carefully as not to bruise it. He would dream of children all over the world smelling the sweet aroma of oranges. It gave him security and a sense of well-being, hope and dreams of a future filled with good food and a life different from this poor existence.

This year John was overjoyed by the Christmas season. New Year was coming. He knew he was becoming stronger and soon he would be old enough to leave. He was excited by this anticipation and excited about Christmas. He would save his orange until his birthday in March. If he preserved it very carefully, kept it cool and did not drop it, he might be able to eat it on his birthday.

Christmas day finally came. The children were so excited as they entered the big dining hall. John could smell the unusual aroma of meat. In his excitement and because of his oversized feet, he missed a step and fell, causing much noise among other children.

Suddenly, he heard the master roaring, “John, leave the hall and there will be no orange for you this year.”