As long as she could remember, Mary had been fascinated by her grandmother’s notebooks. They were overflowing with stories and recipes from every corner of the globe, gathered during her wanderings in her youth. Those notebooks were like a time machine, taking her back to the days when her grandmother was young and full of life. She felt as if she could almost taste the flavors of the dishes her grandmother had cooked back then.

The notebooks were more than just pages of paper and ink. They were a reflection of her grandmother’s life, a record of her experiences and learning. Each recipe was a memory, each story a lesson learned. And now, those notebooks were about to pass into Mary’s keeping. Her grandmother had promised to pass them down to her when she was old enough to appreciate them.

Mary couldn’t wait to dive into those notebooks and discover more about her grandmother’s world. She was sure that they would be a rich source of knowledge and inspiration, and she was determined to honor her grandmother’s legacy (遗产) by preserving and cherishing those priceless notebooks.

One day, while searching through her grandmother’s attic (阁楼) , Mary came across a pile of unfamiliar notebooks. As she turned the pages of one of them, she realized they were filled with intricate (错综复杂的) details of her grandmother’s life. However, some pages were missing. Mary was puzzled. She wondered what could have happened to those missing pages and what secrets they might have held. She was determined to discover the truth behind the notebooks and fill in the missing pieces of her grandmother’s life.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Mary wildly searched the attic for those missing pages, but still couldn’t find them. Then, suddenly, she recalled her grandmother mentioning something about hiding things in plain sight. A light bulb went off in her head-the missing pages must be somewhere in the house! She knew she had to find them before they were lost forever.

With renewed determination, Mary began her search.

Mary carefully removed the envelope, trembling with excitement.

There is a story from many years ago of a primary school teacher. Her name was Rose.

On the first day of school, as Rose looked out over her new fifth grade class, her attention was immediately drawn to two boys, Mark and Charlie. Mark had a high energy that filled the room, his voice echoing even in casual conversations. He laughed loudest and answered questions with enthusiasm that was impossible to ignore. Charlie, Mark’s partner-in-crime, had a naughty grin and a twinkle in his eyes. Together, they were perfect.

While Mark would com mand attention with his tales, Charlie would comment cleverly, making the whole class burst into laughter. Rose could already tell that these two would keep her on her toes. She smiled to herself, though, ready for an eventful year ahead. She knew she had to find a way to channel their energy positively, turning their enthusiasm into a driving force for learning.

One day, Rose had a unique assignment for her students. She asked them to list each classmate's name on two sheets, leaving gaps between. Next, she instructed them to write down the nicest thing they could think of for each student. The assignment consumed the whole period. As they left, each student handed in their papers.

Over the weekend, Rose wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, creating individual lists for every student. On Monday, she handed out the lists. Soon, happiness spread across the room. Mark, known for his naughty behavior, looked astonished. “I had no idea I mattered to anyone,” he whispered, visibly moved. Beside him, Charlie, Mark’s partner- in-crime, said similarly.“I never realized others thought so highly of me.”

No one ever mentioned those lists in class again. Rose never found out if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter.

The atmosphere in the classroom shifted, especially Mark and Charlie.   

On a bright afternoon years later, two gentlemen knocked at Rose’s door, holding the lists.

Jacob sat on the grass outside Grandma’s house. He held a piece of paper. He folded the paper this way and made a point. Then he folded it that way and this way and made wings. Jacob threw his paper airplane high into the air. It twisted (盘旋), turned and fell to the ground.

Grandma looked up from her gardening as Jacob folded another piece of paper. He threw the new plane into the air. It went up, came down and bounced off the ground.

“You know,” said Grandma, “there’s a secret airport just through those trees. Want to see?”

“An airport!” Jacob jumped up. “Near your house?” Jacob took Grandma’s hand, and they followed a path through the trees. They stopped when they reached a wide river.

Tik-tik-tik, tik-tik-tik, noises filled the air.

“The airport sounds busy today,” said Grandma. She pointed through the trees. “Watch carefully.”

Jacob looked across the river. He only saw trees, no airplanes. He looked into the sky. He only saw clouds and sunshine.

Raaaawnk!

A large gray-blue bird with wide wings and long legs swooped (猛冲) down. It landed in a tree, on some sticks and branches. A nest!

Jacob looked at the other trees. There were nests all around! Another large bird swooped out from the trees, just as a new arrival flew in and landed.

“It is an airport,” said Jacob. “A bird airport!” “Those are great blue herons (鹭),” said Grandma. “See the baby chicks?” Jacob saw three little chicks stick their heads out of a nest. They stretched out their necks to receive food from their parent.

“They might be having fish for lunch,” said Grandma. After the meal, the heron spread its wings and flew into the air. It flew slightly downward at first, and then flew away with large and slow beats of its wings.

“Those are huge wings,” said Jacob.

“They help the heron travel a long way to find food,” said Grandma.

Jacob watched a heron fly in, with long legs stretched toward a nest and wings open wide, acting as brakes (刹车) for a gentle touchdown.

“They’re good for landing, too,” said Jacob thoughtfully.

Back at home, Jacob asked Grandma for help to find paper plane designs on the computer.

“Ready?” Jacob held up his plane.

A Charitable Heart

Mom had a unique perspective on being charitable that I didn’t really understand until one cold winter day when she picked me up at school.

“Who is that child? “Mom peered through the windshield as a skinny, greasy-haired girl led a crew of ragged children across the street. “They don’t even have coats. It’s freezing! “

“That’s Becky Ingler. She always looks like that, “I replied. My mother watched them move along the sidewalk. “Where are we going? “I asked as she inched along the street, keeping pace about a half-block behind the Inglers.

They entered a half-ruined store. “They live here?” Mom mumbled, looking at me. “Tell me about them.” I told her what I knew; that the Inglers didn’t have a father, and sometimes they smelled funny and everybody laughed at them. My mother nodded thoughtfully. “I think I’ll visit them tomorrow.” She turned to me and added, “I want you to come with me.” “OK.” I replied.

The next day, I followed Mom to the Inglers’ front door. A tiny, exhausted-looking woman appeared, and Mom smiled and offered her hand. “Hello, Mrs. Ingler. I’m Mrs. Tovey. I’m just visiting some of our neighbors to get acquainted. “Once inside, my mother studied each of the children surrounding unhappy Becky, who was reading a worn-out book to them. She rudely ignored my nod. Mrs. Ingler smiled politely and thanked us for our visit. Before we left, Mom told Mrs. Ingler she sincerely hoped we would see her again soon. I could not understand what she meant by that, but I soon learned.

Mom worked her old sewing machine for two days and nights. She collected coats from the donation boxes, local secondhand stores and our own closets, patching, taking in and letting out seams (缝合线). “Wow!” I said. “They’re lucky to get these.”

“No,” said Mom as she faced me. “We’re the lucky ones to be able to help them. But we need to make sure the Inglers don’t have to pay a price for them. “She then explained, “I don’t want these coats to cost them their pride or their dignity.”

Later that day, we went to the Inglers’ again.

Mrs. Ingler gazed at the coat, and then glanced at Becky, who was eyeing it with interest.

“No. You can’t get on without money. Please get off. I really need to get going,” Jeffrey, the bus driver, impatiently told a girl who wanted to get on the bus but only had a few pennies. She was around seven years old, and Jeffrey wasn’t in the mood to deal with unaccompanied children that day.

“Please, sir. I want to visit my grandma,” the girl begged. “Then go and ask your parents for the money and come back next time,” Jeffrey replied. The girl finally left the bus, upset. Jeffrey saw her sit down at the bus stop and drove off. “My goodness! What have I done?” he asked himself regretfully later.

He finished his route and went home, greeting his wife, Greta, and sitting on the sofa to rest. He got his phone out to surf the Internet mindlessly. One local man had shared a picture that made him surprised. It was a picture of the little girl he had just refused an hour earlier. The word “Missing” was written on top of the picture. Shocked, he read further and learned the girl had left home and disappeared a day before. Her parents were anxious, trying to find her.

Jeffrey’s back went cold. This girl was missing, and he had just kicked her out of the bus. “What have I done?” he said to himself. Immediately, he stood up and went to the front door, putting his shoes on hurriedly. “Where are you going?” Greta asked, coming out of the kitchen.

“Quick! Call 911 and this number,” Jeffrey said, showing her the picture of the girl on his phone. “I saw this girl at a bus stop earlier, but I turned her away because she didn’t have enough money. I’m going to find her.” “OK, which bus stop exactly?” she asked, and he explained. Greta then called the police and the girl’s parents immediately.

Jeffrey anxiously rushed to his car and started the engine.

Jeffrey then asked the girl gently, “Did you escape from your home? Where were you going?”.

When I was 13, I climbed my first mountain — a fairly gentle 3, 900-foot peak near where I live in Surrey, British Columbia. I loved the challenge of conquering something bigger than myself. Soon I’d climbed nearly 100 peaks.

I often go climbing with my friend Mel Olsen. Two years ago, on December 30, when I was 16, she and I drove to Oregon to conquer 11, 240-foot Mount Hood.

It's safer to start winter climbs at night when there's less risk of the sun melting the snowpack. That day, we started at 3 a. m. The temperature was about 14 degrees, and we wore clothes we could easily remove. Along the way, we met two other climbers, and the four of us continued on together.

After about five hours, we reached Devil's Kitchen, a plateau at about 10, 000 feet, just before the final push to the top. By this point, the wind conditions were horrible. My exposed skin felt as though it were burning. The other climbers decided to turn back, but Mel and I went ahead. We had ice axes (斧), helmets, and crampons (钉鞋). We were prepared for the climb.

The trail we followed grew narrower and steeper. At around 9 a. m., we reached a patch of ice called an ice step. It was about three or four feet tall and sloped at a 75-degree angle. I volunteered to go first. I placed my left foot on the ice step.

I gained a sense of the ice when I stuck my ax and crampons into it, and it felt good. Confident that I was safe, I put my full weight on it. Suddenly, I heard a crack, and a whole block of ice broke off the step, right under my foot.

In an instant, I fell backward.

As Mel made her way down, I yelled for help.

Nothing Extraordinary

It was a Saturday. The mall was packed with people. I was with my mom.

Mom is short, skinny. It is easy to overlook her in a crowd simply because she is nothing extraordinary to see.

On that day we went for another window shopping in a mall next to our apartment, peeking at window boutiques(时装店)in fleeting glances because we both knew we wouldn’t be buying much, like always.

I remember I was looking up at the people we passed as we walked—at first indifferently, but then more attentively.

Ladies wore bright, delicate clothing and five-inch heels that clicked importantly on the floor. Men stepped by smelling of sharp perfumes. An uneasy feeling started to settle in my chest. I tried to push it out, but once it took root, it refused to be rid of and tossed away: I was ashamed of my mother.

We were in a high-class neighborhood, I knew that. We lived in a small, overpriced apartment building that Mom chose to move to because she knew the schools were good.

We were in a high-class neighborhood, but as I examined the passers-by and then turned accusing eyes on Mom, I realized for the first time that we didn’t belong there.

I could see the heavy lines around Mom’s eyes and mouth, carved deep into her skin without luxurious creams to ease them away. She wore cheap, ragged clothes with the seams tom, shoes with the soles(鞋底)worn down. Her eyes were tired from working long hours to make ends meet and her hair was too gray for her age.

My mom is nothing extraordinary, yet at that moment she stood out because she was just so plain.

I don’t want to be seen with her, so I hurried away to the bathroom. When I finally made my way out with reluctant steps, Mom wasn’t in sight. I had to search door to door, only to find Mom was standing in the middle of a high-end store, holding a sweater that looked much too expensive.

She said, “This will look good on you. Do you want it?”

No longer ashamed of her but of myself, I put the sweater back.

The five children in Larrane Leech’s day care group were outdoors early, painting landscapes under the dizzy sun. By 10 a. m., it was time to find shade, so Larrane decided they would walk down to the river.

“We’re going to pick berries now, ” she announced. A nature lover, Larrane insisted they spend as much time as possible outdoors.

Larrane handed each child an empty jar and called for Pal, her one-year-old German shepherd (德国牧羊犬). The group made its way over the dusty road and then onto a dirt path through the trees. They stopped at the first berry bush and got busy picking berries, cheering and talking excitedly.

A young cougar (美洲狮)cocked an ear toward the birdlike chatter and sniffed the air. Stepping over the thick carpet of pine needles, the cougar moved quietly toward the children.

Larrane sensed the children suddenly go quiet. She looked up to see the back end of a cougar, the size of Pal, standing over one child, Mikey. The sight of the cougar near her kids immediately froze Larrane. Larrane couldn’t tell whether Mikey had been bitten. Her mind racing wildly, she darted toward the cougar. Desperately intending to grab its tail, she shifted aim at the last minute and seized the cougar by the neck. She shook it from side to side. Instantly, the cougar wheeled toward Larrane. Growling and hissing, it stretched up high and brought its paws down upon the head of the woman. Although still in its youth, it had all the teeth and muscle a cougar needs to pull down a victim three times its size. This animal was capable of killing her.

Now aware of the danger, the other four children screamed and ran behind Larrane.

Larrane rushed to Mikey, who lay quietly on the ground.

Dark rain clouds were gathering in the sky. I was cycling as fast as I could to get home before the downpour. When I felt a few big drops on my head, I decided to head for a bus stop, about a hundred meters away. As I was nearing the bus stop, I saw a woman rushing towards it from the opposite direction, behind whom was a little boy.

Suddenly, a motorcycle sped past me, almost knocking me down. “Hey! Are you mad?” I shouted at the motorcyclist. He turned to look at me, saying, “Sorry.” However, for a split second, he just sped on. Then he was heading right for the woman and little boy! “Watch out! Watch out!” I shouted. I saw the lady turn her head to look at the motorcyclist, with a look of shock on her face.

In an instant, the motorcyclist reached the woman and accidentally hit her. The hit made the woman move backward. The woman and the boy fell on the road, landing right in the path of a truck. “Stop! Stop!” I screamed at the motorcyclist and the truck driver, waving my arms wildly in the air. Thankfully, the truck driver had seen what was happening. With a sudden brake, the truck stopped a few meters from the spot where the woman and the boy had fallen. Meanwhile, the motorcyclist stopped. He kept apologizing, explaining he was in a hurry to the hospital to see his sick mother.

I saw the woman climbing towards the crying child. Pulling over to the side of the road, I ran to help them. By the time I get there, the truck driver had reached them. He picked up the child in his arms and examined his legs.

“I think your little boy is all right,” said the truck driver. “How about you? Do you feel any pain?” The lady replied anxiously, “Please help me. I am pregnant（怀孕的）.”

“Don't panic. You'll be all right. I'll take you and your son to the hospital,” said the driver.

The driver, the motorcyclist and I got them to the hospital just in time.