2 . My father was the gentles and most loving dad in the world — until we had an argument. During those moments, he transformed into a ______ man who never considered that there could be a side other than his own. My words surely never reached his “open mind” because his ears were ______. When he spoke with such ______ that it was easy to begin to doubt my own point of view. He always had the last ______. I could never win.

So when he denied my senior class trip to Montreal, I could do nothing but race from his room in despair And just then a thought ______ my mind. If I couldn’t get him to listen to my side of our arguments, maybe I could get him to ______ it.

With the hope that his eyes would be more open than his ears, I began to write a note that began with “Dear Daddy” and ______ with how much I respected his opinion, how much I hated to fight with him and, _____, how much I loved him. I folded my note into an envelope, ______ it under the door of his bedroom and raced back to my own room where I ______ on my bed.

It was only minutes ______ I heard a knock at my door. Seeing the look on my father’s face, I knew my note ______ his temper and touched his heart.

The victory of winning my dad’s permission was sweet. ______, even sweeter was the discovery of a strategy that enabled me to have an argument with my dad that didn’t end in tears, but instead with a hug. My “Dear Daddy” notes became a ______ to many of our arguments. When his “I’m your father, that’s why!” left me ______,I knew just how to get through to him.

It was a cold December. Mum had a hard time raising us kids on her own. My father had drowned in Pitt Lake five years earlier. Because Dad had no pension or benefits, there was not much money; we went on social assistance.

Looking back, I realize what Mum went through a sending us kids to school. Every morning she would tuck a new piece of cardboard in our shoes because our soles(鞋底) were worn out. When we got home, Mum would have French toast ready for us. This was bread deep-fried in lard(猪油). Constant moving was typical for my family in those days, and it didn’t look like we’d be in our current house much longer. Rent was $25 a month, but Mum couldn’t pay it, and we knew we would be forced out after Christmas.

The holidays were fast approaching, and we were entitled to $25 for Christmas from social services. An inspector came to our house and search edit thoroughly to be sure we didn’t have any food hidden away. When he didn’t find any, he issued the cheque to Mum. Mum said that instead of buying food, she was going to use the money to pay our rent. That way we’d have a roof over our heads for a little while longer. Then she told us there would be no Christmas gifts.

Unknown to Mum, I had been selling Christmas trees, shoveling snow and doing odd jobs to earn enough money to buy a new pair of boots—boots with no cardboard in the soles. They were ten-inch, Top-Genuine, and cost $23.

The big day for getting my boots came on Christmas Eve afternoon. I was very excited as I hurried up the road to catch the bus into town. But on the way to the bus stop I noticed da house with Christmas lights and decorations. It was then I realized that we had no lights, no decorations and no Christmas goodies. I also knew we would have no turkey or ham for Christmas dinner. But at least there would be French toast.

As I continued walking, I began to feel confused.

The bus drove off without me, and I stood alone in a daze, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

A couple of months before I started high school, my parents gave me the greatest gift any teenage boy could ask for: a cellphone. I lived on that phone all summer with my face buried in its screen. I ignored my family and my surroundings. Being connected was more important than being present.

So, you can imagine my displeasure when I learned what my dad had planned for our family vacation that year. “This year,” my dad said, “we’ll be doing something special. We’re going camping!” His excitement was met with a disappointed sigh. It wasn’t my dream vacation because mind was on my phone. I was so buried in the screen, in fact, that the first time I can remember truly looking up was when we drove across a bridge on the way to our campsite.

I stared out the window and saw redwoods towering above us, their branches threatening to pierce (刺破) the blue sky. I saw a roaring river, with slivers of silky black water appearing between crashing white rapids. The air blowing into the car from the open windows was hot. But none of that mattered to me. The reason I had looked up was for something far more serious: my phone no longer had service.

The last hour of the drive was increasingly tense. My dad announced that he had chosen a campsite that had no cell service, and that my phone would be useless until we returned home. I would be trapped in the forest for four days with no way to contact the outside world! I went through the full cycle of teenage emotions during the first day of the trip. I raged. I bargained. I begged. I flip-flopped (转变) from a depressive state to anger and back.

I went to bed angrily that night. But when I awoke in the morning, something had changed.

Instead of burying myself in my phone, I focused on something else: my surroundings.

The next four days passed in a flash with many fun activities.

7 . Morning tea is a family tradition. It is nothing less than an art form, with the ______ laid down by my late grandmother. Her ______ had been formed during her childhood years ______ in the border state of Punjab, the land of five rivers, the bread basket of India. After her marriage, she eventually ______ to Mumbai, located on the western coast of the country. She lived here for nearly 70 years, bringing with her the ______ of home.

Each morning started with a cup of tea boiled in a kettle. Her favorite was a(n) ______ of fine black Assam loose leaf tea, to which a small amount of CTC tea was ______ for color and flavor. This mix would be ______ without a little crushed cardamom(小豆蔻).

Accompanying the tea was milk, ______ to boil. Both were served in stainless steel pots in quilted(有夹层的)covers, keeping them ______. The final touch was her cup, prewashed in boiling water, so she could ______ a steaming cup of tea.

Adding a spoonful of ______ sugar and a spot of milk to the beverage, she would drink it with her biscuits. Occasionally it would be sweet grape biscuits dipped in the tea, but with age, she ______ moved on to digestive biscuits packed with fiber. Depending on the ______, her tea would be ______. On hot days, she would drink iced tea, and on cool windy days, she’d mix up the spices.

9 . 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.