It was my job to watch my younger brother, Jack, and sister, Kelly, as we walked home from school.

“I’m tired,” Kelly whined “and hungry.” “Me too,” added Jack So we stopped to rest. “What do you think Mama is cooking?” I asked. “Noodles!” Kelly said. “Barbecue!” said Jack “Come on.” I stood up. “We need to keep walking.”

At a busy corner, I noticed a street banner, reading “First Walking Race to Jasan Park! Climb the Mountain to Win a Washing Machine.”

It might be fun to race. But could I walk fast enough to win?

At home, Mama was working in the kitchen. We had only a single burner stove, so it often took ages to prepare a meal. Sometimes when father came back from work, Mama was still cooking with the single burner stove.

Afterward, Mama and I washed dishes. When Mama pulled out two metal laundry tubs, her smile disappeared. I knew doing laundry hurt Mama’s back and knees. Mama heated a kettle of water on the single burner stove and filled a tub. She filled the other with cold water. Then kneeling, Mama began scrubbing shirts.

Then we carried the wet laundry to the flat roof, where Mama hung it to dry. On roof tops all over the city, clothes and towels danced in the wind. I loved being on the roof with Mama, but I wished we hadn’t had so much housework. Then I would have had more time to play with friends.

How I wish we would have a washing machine! Both Mama and I would be happy.

I remembered the banner and told Mama about it. Mama sighed, ”Maria, many people will enter that race. You can not expect to win.”

On the race day, I woke up early. I laced up my shoes and put on a head band. Mama kissed the top of my head. “Be careful and be safe. Just keep walking!” Mama said.

At the foot of the mountain, large crowds of people gathered.

Then the race began.

With the big cardboard box aside, I rang the doorbell of our house.

Thanksgiving for the Soul

Working as a primary teacher in Pompton Lakes Primary School, New Jersey, I particularly believed in cultivating love in children from an early age. I wanted children to experience that it’s more blessed to give than to receive. I wanted them to understand that love of society and love of life is not just lip service; that people somehow have to make it come alive. I hoped they could experience a sense of their own power to make a difference.

There was a rural area nearby where a lot of aged people lived in solitude (孤独). They either had no family or their children had left to work in big cities. Most of them lived on government aid to keep body and soul together. An agency, which was in charge of the elder people in this region, had once told me about a needy grandmother, Mrs. Wilson, who had lived alone for many years. I had always desired to do something for her. So I came up with the Thanksgiving plan.

In October, I told the eight-year-olds in my class about my plan. “I’d like all of you to do extra jobs around the house to earn some money,” I said. “Then we’ll buy food for a Thanksgiving dinner for a needy grandma who might not have a nice dinner otherwise.”

Early in Thanksgiving week, the boys and girls arrived in class clutching (紧握) their hard-earned money. They had cleared rubbish, set tables, washed dishes, helped with younger siblings. And now they couldn’t wait to go shopping.

I watched while they ran up and down the supermarket aisles (货架通道). At last we headed toward the checkout, pushing a cart filled with turkey and all the trimmings (配料). Then someone spotted a “necessity”—flowers, which caught their attention. All kids ran toward the holiday flowers, with one proposing, “Flowers! We can buy her a bunch of flowers!”

“Flowers may not be as practical as food.” I said.

With a food box and a bunch of flowers, we finally arrived at Mrs. Wilson’s home.

I was twenty then, teaching a class of thirty students in Toronto including Mike, a 10-year-old street kid. Having lost his father and mother, he lived with a mentally-disturbed grandmother.

He was always hungry, so each day I’d take him for breakfast before class. Each noon after I shared my lunch with him, I taught him new skills—using a microscope, constructing a camera etc.

One day Mike told me of his dream. Most kids in the class wanted to be doctors, teachers or some such thing, but not Mike! His desire was to be a gangster (强盗)! And he was serious about it.

I believed all children had a gift for what he wanted to be. If he wanted to be a gangster, I’d do all I could to help him become the very best “gangster”.

I had a plan. Every Saturday after we had breakfast, I took him to the Law Library of the city. I explained to him a good gangster had to know something about criminal law, and reading up on law was the only way to learn. His young mind was interested, and he dove in.

That was how we spent each Saturday morning that year. I’d drop him off at the law library. Three hours later, I’d return, pick him up for lunch and after a review of his morning’s work, take him home.

The following year I taught in another school far away, which prevented me continuing to participate physically with him on Saturday mornings. But I provided him with public transportation tickets so he could keep up his regular study at the library.

Later I got married and moved to London. Sadly, and to my great regret, I lost contact with Mike.

Years passed. I often thought of him, wondering what had become of him. Then, one day, I was back in Toronto on business, looking up the number of a former colleague in the telephone directory, and there, Mike’s name as part of a title of “JUDGES and LAWYERS” danced off the page into my eyes.

I wondered, “Could it be him?”

When we were able to get together, he told me his road to the law.

Growing up, I always dreamed of being a professional skater. After years of hard work, I am living proof that dreams can come true.

When I was born, my parents immediately noticed something wrong and the doctor said I couldn’t skate. I, however, insisted on trying skating in an ice rink (滑冰场)not far from my house where local skaters would often perform ice shows. I remember seeing the shining costumes and their graceful movements.

I determined to take group skating lessons, but I’d cry before class because going into a group scared me. Performing on the ice came naturally, but I have always been shy and afraid to speak in group settings.

One thing I’ve never been afraid of is competition. I get nervous, like everyone else, but never fearful. For me, skating has never been about beating others. It’s been about doing my best. I progressed rapidly and gave my first ice performance at age seven. I soon started to win local and regional competitions. That’s because being on the ice has always been the one place I can truly express my emotions. The ice is like home.

I began training seriously when I was nine years old. Mom and I would wake up at four o’clock in the morning, six days a week and skate for five hours. Then I’d go to school. Since education has always been important in my family, I had no choice but to find creative ways to fit in school studies throughout my amateur career.

After graduating from high school, I moved to Canada and set out to train full time to give my dreams a chance at reality. And several years later I was competing at the Olympic Games. Not my coach or even my family had ever talked to me about winning a gold medal. In fact, I wouldn’t even allow myself to think about it. I went with the attitude that I wanted to enjoy the Olympic spirit.

Finally, the day arrived. I took a deep breath and eased into a solid performance that placed me first going into the finals.

Two days later, I was the first of the final six skaters to perform on the ice.

When the medals were awarded, I found myself on the top step beyond expectation.

57-year-old Sean Currey knew the value of treating others in the way he intended to be treated. Hence, he lived by that principle in his whole life, which eventually took him off the streets at the right time.

Sean Currey became unemployed during the pandemic, and ended up homeless, searching through dustbins (垃圾桶) around San Rafael, California, to meet his needs. Once, he made an unusual find at the bottom of a dustbin just behind a coffee shop. Looking through the purse, he discovered a series of credit cards, debit cards, healthcare cards and a business card, identifying the purse’s owner as an 80-year-old woman, Evelyn Topper.

Interestingly, the woman lived in Mill Valley, about six miles away from his location. Knowing how discouraging it was to lose one’s possessions, Currey figured he needed to return the purse to its rightful owner. Then Sean Currey gave Topper a call, using the contact details on the business card. His guess was accurate, as the elderly woman had been extremely worried since losing her purse days ago.

According to Evelyn Topper, she stopped by a coffee shop on December 9 to get a hot drink and a bubble tea for her 12-year-old granddaughter. She paid for both drinks and put the purse into her pocket. Unfortunately, the purse fell off somewhere along the way, and by the time she reached home, she discovered her purse was gone.

Evelyn Topper contacted the coffee shop immediately, receiving the heartbreaking news that her purse was not there. Next, she checked her car, and all the rooms in her apartment, but did not find it. Eventually, she concluded the purse must have been dropped somewhere on the way home.

Just when she gave up finding her purse, Topper received Currey’s call. She screamed in delight when she learned he had her purse. They met up immediately in front of a nearby shopping center, where Currey returned the purse. The woman called her daughter and granddaughter, Mikayla Gounard, to tell them what had happened. That was when Mikayla decided to repay Currey’s kindness.

Li Hua

“Mom!” 11-year-old Mark cried to his mom, Cindy. “I don’t want to wear the sweater!”

“Please, honey, put it on! We’re already running late!” Cindy said as she packed their suitcases. “But Mom! It’s not even my size. Can I please get something else to wear?”

“Don’t trouble your mom, Mark,” his dad, Luke, said. “We have to leave now.”

Cindy and Luke took out their suitcases and put them into the car. The family were taking a skiing trip to the mountains. Mark sat in the back seat, angry, because he hated the sweater!

It was a red sweater, a bit too big for him, and its sleeves were not even the same size. It was Mark’s birthday gift. Grandma Sandy promised him a video game, but gave him a sweater instead! Mark didn’t like it. He told Grandma by phone that he would never wear it. He didn’t know how hard it had been for her to make the sweater by hand.

Because it was snowing heavily, Luke drove slowly. By the time they arrived at the holiday center, it was late in the evening.

Mark was quite excited about going skiing for the first time. He asked his parents to let him go look around, and they agreed. Mark raced off to a nearby spot and Cindy kept an eye on him. When Luke removed their suitcases, Cindy helped him. Then she noticed Mark was nowhere to be seen.

Worried, Luke and Cindy tried to find him, but failed. They told the manager about the situation. He sent out a few staff members to help look for Mark.

Almost half an hour later, two of the staff observed a hand sticking out behind a tree. They discovered Mark, who was unconscious. He was brought to the hospital soon, but he didn’t wake up until a few hours later.

“It’s a good thing the boy was wearing a large sweater that kept most of his body covered and warm due to its large size. It was a typical case of hypothermia (体温过低),” the doctor said. “Do you remember what happened, Mark?” the doctor asked him.

The little boy nodded and then told them the whole story.

Mark now realized it was all due to his grandma that he was saved.

Sabrina and I were in gym class together. I was quiet and kind. She was a bully(仗势欺人者). She and her friends enjoyed harassing(骚扰)me on a daily basis.

I was less than athletic. That day, we had played soccer. I not only embarrassed myself, I also made Sabrina mad — basically because she was on my team, and we didn’t win. So, in the shower, she threatened me! “I will meet you after class,” she sneered(讥笑).

Immediately class was over, I slid out the teacher’s entrance and ran to my locker where Susan, my older sister, was already waiting for me, so we could walk home together.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, noticing the look of panic in my eyes. “Sabrina!” I choked. “We lost the soccer game in gym and it was my fault.”

“Oh,” Susan simply stated. “Well,” she said, “we will walk down Seventeenth South instead of Harrison. It’s out of the way enough that Sabrina won’t find us.”

Next day, in the math classroom, Sabrina’s best friend passed me a note that stated, “At lunch, you will pay for running away!” I didn’t even look up, but I accidentally swallowed my gum and felt a severe pain in my chest. Mr. McKonkie excused me going to the nurse’s office.

Walking down the hall, I felt a slight sense of relief and freedom. But suddenly someone hit me on the shoulder from behind. “You little chicken!” Sabrina’s voice sneered. I didn’t turn around. I started running down the hall. I had no idea what she was going to do and I was extremely scared.

Sabrina was now rushing after me. At last, she caught up with me enough to kick the back of my legs, trying to knock me down. In a panic, I swung around to the stairs. Sabrina was so close to me by then that my sudden change in direction knocked her off balance and she fell down the stairs. I stood there watching her fall.

At first, I felt a sudden independence and victory.

Sabrina never harassed me after that.