【推荐1】WHEN my brother Joe was 6 months old, my mother brought him home from the hospital and told me to watch him while she fixed supper. We started playing a game I called “dogs”, rolling on the floor like pups (小狗). Then I looked up and saw my mother watching us. She was crying.

“He’s blind,” she said. “The doctor told me today.” I looked at Joe. He was laughing. “He can’t be blind,” I said. “He smiles at my face.” “He smiles at your voice,” she said. “He’ll never see your face.” That was that. Joe was blind. Mama went back to cooking. I went back to playing a dog.

From the age of 8, Joe boarded at a school for the deaf and the blind, learning to read Braille. When he was 16, the school said he’d learned enough and sent him home with a Braille typewriter. At 21, Joe moved out to live on his own, he said, “like a man,” in an apartment 30 miles (48 km) away. He learned to cook, clean, do his own laundry, and do almost anything else he needed.

Then he met the love of his life. She, too, was blind. When Joe called to tell me, he said: “Even a blind man can fall in love at first sight.” They shared 10 good years before he lost her to cancer. Painfully soon after, he also lost our mother, who was his champion, and our stepfather, who was Joe’s best friend.

What is left when you lose the loves of your life? My brother clung with an iron fist (拳头) to three gifts: Faith, hope and love.

His faith grew stronger. He always had hope. And his love for his family has never gotten weaker, despite death or disappointment. Loved ones leave, but love remains.

The years ahead may prove to be his hardest. His legs are growing weaker, threatening to take away the independence he’s fought so hard to keep. My sister and I often wonder what will happen if Joe can’t live on his own. It’s not up to us. We’ll do what we can, but it’s his life. He won’t have it any other way.

You don’t find strength to do something until it’s time to do it. Joe has found it whenever he has needed it. I believe he will again.

【推荐3】I was blind, but I was ashamed of it if it was known. I refused to use a white stick and hated asking for help. After all, I was a teenager girl, and I couldn’t bear people to look at me and think I was not like them. I must have been a terrible danger on the roads. Coming across me wandering through the traffic, motorists probably would have to step rapidly on their brakes. Apart from that, there were all sorts of disasters that used to occur on the way to and from work.

One evening, I got off the bus about halfway home where I had to change buses, and as usual I ran into something, “I’m awfully sorry,” I said and stepped forward only to run into it again. When it happened a third time, I realized I had been apologizing to a lamppost. This was just one of the stupid things that constantly happened to me. So I carried on and found the bus stop, which was a request stop, where the bus wouldn’t stop unless passengers wanted to get on or off. No one else was there and I had to try to guess if the bus had arrived.

Generally in this situation, because I hated showing I was blind by asking for help, I tried to guess at the sound. Sometimes I would stop a big lorry and stand there feeling stupid as it drew away. In the end, I usually managed to swallow my pride and ask someone at the stop for help.

But on this particular evening no one joined me at the stop. It seemed that everyone had suddenly decided not to travel by bus. Of course I heard plenty of buses pass or I thought I did. But because l had given up stopping them for fear of making a fool of myself, I let them all go by, I stood there alone for half an hour without stopping one. Then I gave up. I decided to walk on to the next stop.

【推荐1】It was a warm winter’s day in South Africa and I planned to go surfing. The area of beach I went to is famous among surfers for its powerful waves and popularity with sharks.

After a while my brother and some of my friends got out of the water because they felt uneasy. There was the smell of fish in the air, which could attract sharks. A few of us stayed, Finally, I saw my first big wave, but as I was about to hit it, two great white sharks attacked me.

It happened so quickly. One shark hit me, throwing me into the air; in a split second, it dragged me under the water. The shock stopped me from feeling pain. Under the water, another shark went for my head and shoulders but missed.

Perhaps surprised by the competition, the first shark lost its grip on me and the next thing I knew was that I was staring a shark straight in the face. It stared back at me for a few moments. Its mouth was wide open; I could see huge teeth and dark black eyes. After it passed, I swam to the surface as fast as I could.

When I got there, I saw my surfboard lying in front of me. As I climbed on, I saw that my right hand was hanging off. I was losing blood quickly. When surfing, there is always the fear in the back of your mind of sharks. Now it was real. I was shaking, crying and panicking, realizing that I could die. I tried all my hardest to swim back to the shore.

Eventually, I made it to dry land. I felt relief. Someone tied my arm to slow the bleeding and my brother rushed me to the hospital. The surgeon managed to save my fingers.

That day changed my life, but it hasn’t stopped me from surfing. I started a surfing school to teach the sport to others. I was more afraid of sharks before my attack. Now I’m just grateful to be alive.

【推荐2】Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out of the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, a crocodile was swimming toward him. His mother in the house was looking out of the window and saw the two. In great fear, she ran toward the water, shouting to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother．It was too late. Just as he reached her, the crocodile reached him. From the shore, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the crocodile snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The crocodile was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard their screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the crocodile.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother’s finger nails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, “But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn’t let go.”

Never judge another person’s scars, because you don’t know how they were made.

【推荐3】Lately, my 90-year-old mother has been sleepier and sleepier. This is very strange and worrying. At the same time, my 92-year-old father has been suffering his own health problems. It is a terrible thing to see my father struggle to get my mother to talk, say something, when she doesn’t have the energy.

The other day, I recalled how my mother used to visit a woman named Mrs. Demopolis, a Greek immigrant, who made the best baklava(果仁蜜饼) in the world! She gave lessons on baking it to my mother. Also, my mother often baked baklava at home. As I spoke of this over the phone, my silent mother perked up and said how much she’d like to have one again.

Now, they live in Florida and I live in Wales, UK, so I can’t go and bring her some baklava or even make some in her kitchen. But what I did suggest was that my father could buy some baklava at a Greek restaurant and I could do the same, and wouldn’t it be fun to eat our baklava at exactly the same time and so, be together sharing the moment and the pleasure? My parents loved the idea and we decided to do it.

Two days later we both had our baklava and shared the experience. It meant a lot to my parents, and to me, to do this. My mother said she wanted to do this again, maybe with another food or even baklava again! Why not? And as she only keeps losing weight instead of gaining, it is good for her to find foods that appeal to her appetite . It is becoming harder to find ways to communicate over the phone, but this is at least a very good way to do so.