This past summer, I joined my sister's family for their annual Adirondack vacation in a rented cottage on a lake, the same place my family has stayed since I was a little kid. There are plenty of activities to keep everyone busy: swimming, fishing and sand castle building on the beach.

By the third day, I had noticed that my ten-year-old niece, Jannie, had spent most of her time watching cable TV and browsing through the gift shops in town. Not exactly the wilderness experience I remembered from my youth. So, at dinner, I told Jannie we should hike to the top of the mountain across the lake the following morning, which was called Rocky Point because the peak is bare and rock-covered.

"Well." replied Jannie, "Tomorrow there are some shows on the Disney Channel, so I'm going to be pretty busy."

"When your mother and I used to come here when we were your age, we were too busy swimming and hiking up mountains."

"Sounds more like punishment than a vacation." She shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, I don't think I can walk that far."

When I said it only took a half-hour of steady walking to get to the top. She grumbled, "Fine, I'll go." I knew she was agreeing just to shut me up, but I would take anything I could get.

The next morning was a perfect day for a hike, with sunshine and clear skies. I got up early and took some sandwiches and water bottles, which I tucked into my backpack along with the bug spray and the camera.

Jannie came shuffling downstairs, sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes and announced in a very unenthusiastic, robot-like voice. "I'm ready to go hiking, Uncle David." Anyway, we climbed into my car and drove to the trailhead about ten minutes away. As we stood at the edge of the parking lot and looked down the shaded trail that led into the woods. "I am still not sure this is a good idea, but if you and Mom could do it, I can too, I guess."

For the moment she was determined to start our journey.

A while later we did it to the top.

When a tornado(龙卷风) touched down in a small town nearby,many families were left completed ruined. Afterward all the local newspapers carried many human-interest stories featuring some of the families who suffered the hardest.

One Sunday, a particular picture especially touched me. A young woman stood in front of an entirely shattered(破碎的) mobile home, a depressed expression on her face. A young boy, seven or eight years old, stood at her side, eyes downward. Clutching(紧握) at her skirt was a tiny girl who stared into the camera, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

The article that went with the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a good opportunity to teach my children to help those less fortunate than themselves. I stuck the picture of the young family on our refrigerator, explaining their difficulty to my seven-year-old twins, Brad and Brett, and to three-year-old Meghan.

“These poor people now have nothing,” I said. “We’ll share what we have with them. I brought three large boxes down from the room upstairs and placed them on the living room floor. Meghan watched seriously, as the boys and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and foods.

While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged the boys to go through their toys and donate some of their less favorite things. Meghan watched quietly as the boys piled up old toys and games.

Meghan walked up with Lucy, her worn, much-loved rag doll hugged tightly to her chest. She came to the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Lucy's flat, painted-on-face, gave her a final kiss, then laid her gently on top of the other toys.

“Oh, Honey,” I said.” You don’t have to give Lucy. You love her so much.”

Meghan nodded seriously, eyes filled with held-back tears. "Lucy makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she’ll make that other little girl happy,too.”

The boys had watched,open-mouthed,as their baby sister placed her favorite doll in the box.

I looked my children for a long moment.

A boulder(巨石)，as big as a house. That’s how the guidebook described Giant Rock. Dad said it arrived here millions of years ago. I was finally going to see it, in snowshoes, with my two older cousins, my dad, and my uncle Don. I’d been snowshoeing before, and I liked the adventure of hiking through deep snow.

At the parking area, after putting on our snowshoes, we studied the map. Due to the geographical location, electrical devices are inaccessible here. The map is our only guide. "We start here，" Dad said,” on the red trail(小路）. Then we turn left onto the purple road. That’s where Giant Rock is. " " Remember to stick together and don’t wander off, guys，" Uncle Don said.   

The trail ran uphill alongside a stone wall. It was easy to follow because red markers were nailed to the trees and the snow had been packed down by other hikers. At the top of the hill, we turned onto the purple trail. We settled into a pattern，with Dad and everyone else in front and me in the back，crunching(嘎吱嘎吱地踩）through the snow. I saw lots of animal tracks — mostly deer, squirrel, and rabbit prints. As the trail wound down, my cousin Andrew said what I’d been thinking ："Will we ever reach Giant Rock?" My cousin Aiden smiled and turned to me, "Luke, do you think your dad invented this idea just to get us away from the TV for a while?" I laughed. "You never know."

Finally, we climbed a hill and saw the massive boulder sitting alone in the forest. It really is as big as a house! My cousins and I high-fived each other and jogged until we stood at the base, breathless. Standing in the boulders broad shadow, I noticed the sun had sunk lower.

“Let’s head back，" Dad said after a few minutes. "I here will be several crossroads on the way back. Guys, keep up with the team. " Soon we were crunch-crunch-crunching our way home. I was a little behind the group when we approached a crossroads. And I noticed a set of animal tracks I didn’t recognize, so I followed them for a closer look.

I looked up when I suddenly realized how quiet it had gotten.

As going worriedly, I heard voices, someone calling far away.