【推荐2】Slowly, so slowly that we never even noticed how it happened that our family stopped talking to each other. Our own worlds opened up to us through the computer or the cell phone or the CD player.

Family Night was born when Mom called us for dinner. Jessica and I came and sat down. Dad finished his eating and started to rise from the table.

“Where are you going?” Mom questioned.

“To the living room. I have some work.” Dad replied as he hurried away. Mom’s face got tight, but she said nothing. About two minutes later, my cell phone buzzed. Jessica kept her earphones on during most of the meal. Mom was clearly upset.

Family Night started the next week. Mom made three rules: no phones, no music, and no leaving the table. Everyone would eat together and play a game together “like a real family.”

All seemed to be going according to Mom’s plan until the first buzz of a cell phone. After dinner, we had been playing the board game for only ten minutes when another cell phone rang. This time the phone ring belonged to my father.

“Work’s calling. I have to answer.” he whispered as he hurried out of the room.

Mom sighed, but she forced a smile and encouraged us to continue the game. We kept playing through every interruption (中断) afterwards: the beeping of Jessica’s phone, the buzz of another text message from Darnell, the soothing (舒缓的) voice announcing the arrival of an e-mail on Dad’s computer. When the game was over, Mom freed us to our rooms.

That first Family Night was not a success, but Mom soldiered on (坚持着干). Every Monday evening we silenced our electronics and gathered around the table, and each time, setting aside our technological toys became a little easier. The next two months my father would be taking business trips. We wouldn’t be able to have Family Night every Monday.

To my surprise, I realized that I would miss those few hours each week when the house was filled with my family’s laughter and conversation. I was also glad to know that when we really wanted to, we could silence the electronic buzz and just be a family again.

【推荐3】A family in Florida had a happy Christmas this year thanks to two local police officers, who answered a 911 call only to discover there was no emergency at all.

When they arrived at the house of a single mother with two children, the officers discovered the younger child, about two years old, was playing with the phone. There were no signs of Christmas or holiday cheer in the house. “They weren’t smiling. It seemed like they weren’t happy at all. They were missing something,” Officer Paramore said. “The mother mentioned that they weren’t going to have a Christmas that year. It was pretty obvious that the family was struggling,” he said. “So we told each other that something had to be done.”

Paramore and his partner, Barry Ward, left the house with a plan. The next day, they went to a supermarket and bought a tree, lights and some ornaments(装饰物) with their own money. Then they returned to the apartment to deliver some holiday cheer. “They hugged the tree,” Paramore said. “I was glad to see that this family was going to have something to sit around and use.” The police department posted the video on YouTube, hoping to share the happy news and inspire others.

The department has received tons of donations and phone calls from people around the country asking how they can help the family. “We are covered,” said Stephanie Slater, public information officer for the Boynton Beach Police Department. “We’re asking people to do good in their communities on behalf of our officers. We appreciate it very much that people are talking about this after watching the news on TV because they need to see and need to be reminded that police officers are good guys,” she said. “They are human beings who have a kind heart and they do things that go unnoticed like this every day.”

【推荐1】Moving to a new city and state was difficult for me, especially in winter. Little did I know that a Colorado snowstorm would greet me after I had been in my new home for only a week.

I just missed home. But more than the old house and the beach, I missed Stacey, my best friend. And I missed our lovely tea. Going to a sweet little tearoom, we had discovered a special treat for us. The place was a Victorian dream, with delicate teacups and tablecloths with flower prints. The hat shelf near the front door swept us back to childhood. Stacey and I became little girls, trying on different hats until we found the perfect one for our dress-up tea party. We would then choose a lovely table and order our tea. That was a precious time, filled with laughter between scones (煎饼) and sharing our lives between tiny cucumber sandwiches.

Springtime descended upon Denver, and the sun lightened my heart. But I still fought loneliness almost every day. I decided to explore the Denver area. While my husband went to the office, I took time to see what our new area had to offer.

One day, I was walking along the street when suddenly the words “Tea Leaves” caught my eye. A tea room? Here, in the land of loneliness and pain?

I walked through the doors, and tears came to my eyes. It was a beautiful room, not Victorian, but simple and lovely. I sat down and ordered a pot of tea, a cucumber sandwich, and some scones. It felt silly and wonderful—and it felt like home. For the first time since moving, I felt as if this new city and state could be, would eventually be, my home. I would come back here and bring new friends. When Stacey visited, we would come here.

I lifted my cup and made a silent toast. I toasted Stacey, whom I missed, and I toasted the sweet little tearoom that lessened my pain.

【推荐2】Fifteen years ago, when darkness used to fall in Yobe Nkosi, a remote village in northern Malawi, children did their school homework by candlelight: There was no electricity. But that started to change in 2006, when villager Colrerd Nkosi finished secondary school in Mzimba some 40 kilometers away, and returned home, and found he could no longer live without power.

Aged 23 at the time, Nkosi soon figured out that a small river past the house where he grew up had just enough force to push the pedals on his bicycle. He created a generator (发电机) that brought power into his home. Word spread quickly among brick houses and neighbors began paying regular visits to charge their mobile phones. “I started getting requests for electricity and decided to upgrade,” said Nkosi.

With no previous training, he turned an old fridge compressor (压缩机) into a water-powered turbine and put it in a nearby river, generating electricity for six households. Today, the village is supplied by a bigger turbine.

The users pay no fee for the power but give Nkosi some money for maintenance — slightly more than $1 per household per month. “The electricity is basically free,” Nkosi said, speaking in local Chichewa. He admitted that the maintenance income was too small to cover repair costs, which he mainly funded from his own pocket.

Despite the challenges, he was determined to expand his mini electricity network to surrounding areas. “Once more villages and schools have electricity, people will no longer cut down trees for charcoal (木炭),” he said. “Students will have a lot more time to study.”

As dusk settled over Kasangazi Primary School, groups of learners rushed into a classroom for a night-time study session. “Before we had electricity here, we used to use candles to study,” said student Gift Mfune, sorting through a pile of textbooks on his desk. “Now, we all have no excuse but to pass our examinations,” he laughed. Courtesy of Nkosi, the building is the only school with power out of 17 others servicing the area.