【推荐1】I was 16 when one morning my father told me I could drive him into a village, about 18 miles away, on condition that I took the car into a nearby garage to be serviced. Having just learnt to drive and hardly ever having the chance to use the car, I happily accepted. I drove Dad into the village and promised to pick him up at 4 p.m., and then drove to a nearby garage. Because I had a few free hours, I decided to catch a couple of movies at a theatre near the garage. When the last movie had finished, it was six o’clock. I was two hours late!

I knew Dad would be angry if he found out I’d been watching movies. I decided to tell him that the car needed some repairs and that they had taken longer than expected. I drove up to the place where we had appointed to meet and saw Dad waiting patiently. I said sorry and told him that I’d come as quickly as I could, but the car had needed some repairs.

“I’m disappointed that you feel you have to lie to me, Jason.”

“What do you mean? I’m telling the truth.”

Dad looked at me. “When you did not show up, I called the garage. They told me that you had not yet picked up the car. So you see, I know there were no problems with the car.”

I had to confess (承认) to my trip to the movie theatre. Dad listened as a sadness passed through him.

“I’m angry, not with you but with myself. I have failed because I have brought up a son who cannot even tell the truth to his own father. I’m going to walk home now and consider where I have gone wrong all these years.”

“But Dad, it’s 18 miles to our home. It’s dark. You can’t walk home.” My words were useless. Dad began walking along the roads, silently, thoughtfully and painfully. For 18 miles I drove behind him.

This was the most painful experience that I had ever had. It was also the most successful lesson. I have never lied to my father since.

【推荐3】On Sept. 2, 2012, the dog Hunter passed away over the Rainbow Bridge at about 15 years old. He was so sweet and gentle. I rescued him from HELP in 2001 when he was about three (after his second visit to HELP). I went to his foster (代养的) home in North Aurora. His foster mom said she just gave him a shower, so he would be presentable. I walked through the door and there were many dogs and toys. I never understood why he came to the shelter twice. He did get two pieces of bread from the table and put them on the floor, but that was my carelessness and I quickly learned that. No more problems.

On the way home that day, I promised him he was home for good and he would never have to worry again—I would love him till the end. That was the best move I had ever made. I just lost my dog Bo two months ago. Now Hunter brought sunshine into my life and saved me. Near the end of his life, I was able to repay him for all he had done for me.

I do not remember his foster mom’s name. I promised to send the latest information to her, but lost her email address. I wish I could tell her what a good dog Hunter turned out to be, but I’m sure she already knew that. If she is still a foster mom, perhaps she will read this.

I should have written this long ago. How time flies! Hunter was the finest dog I had ever raised. We shared thousands of miles on the trail (小径). Everyone who ever met him fell in love with him.

【推荐1】Posters were stuck everywhere in the school. Soon, it would be time for the charity funfair(游艺集市). Every year, groups of students set up stalls(摊位) during the funfair to raise funds for different charities. It was, without doubt, the most well-received event every year both among the students and the public.

As Betty walked, she found each poster more interesting than the previous one. Excitement built up within Betty. She had participated in the funfair in previous years and each time she and her friends had managed to come up with an interesting item that attracted the most attention. This year would not be an exception. Betty sat down on a seat, running through the preparations for the funfair. Had they bought all the ingredients? What about the gloves? Question after question popped into her head. She bit her nails nervously.

Almost everyone that Betty knew promised to support her. She and her classmates planned to set up a stall selling sushi. Their poster was red and white, with pictures of sushi across it, and there was even some sushi made of clay(粘土) attached to the top of the poster. Photographs of smiling children in wheelchairs were placed around the poster; some were playing sports. The hearts of all those who saw the poster went out to the children. They were determined to buy sushi, which happened to be their favorite food, at the funfair.

However, many people were attracted by another stall, which was going to challenge visitors to brain games. Everyone loved puzzles. Its poster was unlike others－a die(骰子) in the shape of a cube(立方体) was stuck to it. The cube was spinning(旋转), which made everyone take notice. “Hey! Come on, Betty! We’ll be late! You’re not staring at the spinning die, are you? We could make a spinning sushi too!” joked Betty’s best friend. Betty laughed. A spinning die made sense but a spinning sushi would be ridiculous.

After school, every student in the school would have found out about the funfair. Soon, the word would spread to the neighborhood.

【推荐3】On the 25th of December, my mother expected her children to be present, exchanging gifts and eating turkey. But as an artist and daughter, my heart seemed to be more in my work as an artist. As for my mother and my family, I thought we would have more time to spend Christmas together. I was going to do my own thing.

I made plans for my winter adventure in New Hampshire. The MacDowell Colony (麦道尔艺术村) was everything I could have wished for. About 20 to 30 artists were present, and it was as captivating as I had imagined. Snowy New England, sledding (滑雪橇) and whisky! It felt like my life had become an unexpected independent film.

By Christmas Eve, I had been at the colony more than a week. The fresh feelings were wearing off, but I would never admit it. Everyone around me was having too much fun—drinks and deep conversations by the fireplace. It seemed so amazing! What was wrong with me? This was the holiday I’d always dreamed of. No plastic reindeer. Not a Christmas sweater anywhere in sight. People here didn’t even say “Christmas”, but they said “holiday”. Then why was I so down?

Finally, I called home. My dad answered. He told me that my mother was out shopping with my brothers. I found there was a fire in my heart. They were having a fine Christmas without me? Didn’t they miss me? How could they?

Despite a serious snowstorm, a large package with my mother’s beautiful handwriting showed up near my door at the artist colony on Christmas morning. I seized it as if I had been five years old. Inside was my favorite cake.

As I sliced (切) the cake, everyone gathered around —young and old. My mother had sent a real homemade gift. It was a minor Christmas miracle that one cake managed to feed so many. We ate it from paper towels with our hands, satisfying a hunger we didn’t know we had and reminding us of our dear families, who must be missing us too.