When I was a boy, I always wore turtleneck shirts because I was so sensitive and shy. I worked hard to earn exceptional marks and always tried to behave well. I was younger than everyone else because my good marks had allowed me to skip second grade, but this added nothing to my already low self-confidence.

When I was 14, my parents divorced (离婚). I moved in with my dad in a new neighborhood, but he was always so busy and had little time for me. It seemed the only time he ever spoke to me was to be demanding or critical. I began to hate coming home from school every day. I sank further into my low self-esteem (自尊心) and was overwhelmed with feeling unappreciated and alone.

One day, my aunt called. This seemed like a miracle (奇迹) to me. Aunt Ginette usually only called once a year, on my birthday. She said she had just seen some young teenagers participate in a public speaking contest, and she thought I should try it, too. She told me she firmly believed I could perform on stage like the other kids since she had seen me do skits (幽默小品) for the family at Christmas.

I was a little surprised. Me? Onstage? In a public speaking contest? I was hesitant. But Aunt Ginette was so confident and seemed really serious. Feeling her strong belief, I went against all odds and agreed to enter the contest.

All that winter, twice a week after dinner, I took three different buses for the three-hour round-trip to practice in Ville d’Anjou, where the competition would take place. Although my dad really did love me and wanted the best for me, he disapproved of this new dream, fearing it would take away from my homework time and impact my academic performance. But I remained a top performer in school and never missed a day.

Four months later, the big night arrived.

When I saw my father’s face, his eyes were shining－he was so proud.

Super Roy

“You’re a halfback(中卫).” I looked over my shoulder at the empty field behind me. “Me?” I asked, pointing to my chest

“Yes,” the coach said again. “You’re a halfback. Yep, no doubt about it.”

The coach’s name was Super Roy. Someone told me his real name once, but it never stuck. When I got to practice that day I was a small kid with little athletic experience or skill. I wondered if I belonged there at all and what Super Roy had seen in me that I didn’t see in myself.

“Are you sure I’m a halfback?” I asked him the next day.

“Let me see,” he said, standing back to have a good glance at me, which made me nervous about what he would say

“Yep. You’re a halfback. Might as well get used to it.”

“Okay,” I said, puzzled but beginning to accept the idea, strange as it seemed.

Later that day we started running plays. Time after time the quarterback put the ball right in my hands. Me, the silly fellow who had to be reminded how many points a touchdown was worth. I expected to go all season without touching the ball. I expected to be a bench warmer, and now the ball was in my hands—literally.

Super Roy had a routine he did every day. As practice came to an end, he would pick one of the players to step forward. The player had to recite a quote Super Roy had given him the day before. It was a very important moment in practice. No one wanted to forget his quote in front of the whole team.

After practice was over one day, Super Roy spoke to me. “Your turn tomorrow,” he said. “Ready for your quote?”

“Okay,” I said, stressed in deep concentration. “I’m ready.”

“Well, here it is: ‘It’s not the size of the man you play, it’s how you play the man.’ Got it?” “Yes, Coach.”

Super Roy winked at me and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “And I believe the quote will help you make a miracle in the inter school match next month,” he added.

On the way home, my mind played like a broken record, which made me murmur the words repeatedly.

Paragraph 1: There came the practice time the next day.

Paragraph 2: I stepped into Super Roy’s office after the match.

One day, a woman gazed silently at a black and white photograph of a little girl kneeling in the snow.

“Her name is Tina,” said the man who had handed her the picture. “She’s seven years old.   I love my daughter more than anything, but I can’t keep her. My wife…she isn’t Tina’s mother,   you know? She hates having a reminder around of my other marriage. I had to send Tina back to my cx-wife. to keep her cafe”

“But Tina’s mother hasn’t had Tom with her for your; she’s married now with two kids and she... well. she’s mutationally manic in deal with another one. You see?” He swallowed hard before adding. “My daughter need a home.”

The woman handed the photograph to her husband, when look it and audited it for several minutes before giving it back with a small smile He said. “Well. honey, what do you think?”

The woman looked into the eyes of the little girl’s father “Yes,” she said “We’ll take her.”

The little girl in the photograph was me. And the common when degreed to open her heart and home to a child she’d never met was my new mother. My new father, of course, played an important, loving part in this decision. but it was my mother who was willing to take on the full-time, thankless, and often heartbreaking care of a previously abused child. Loving me would be a challenge for hot from the very beginning.

In the first place, I didn’t want to be there. I was heartbroken at being taken away from my father. Moreover, I had a natural distrust of women. The two in my life so far had either abandoned me or beaten me. In my mind, why should this new one be any different?

I bonded with my new father quickly. But my mother was the one to deal with a bitter.   confused little girl. I tested my new mother’s love from time to time.

One day, when we ate out, I made a noise on purpose.

However, my mother didn’t give up.

During that hot summer, little Sammy and his sister Marie spent their vacation at their grandparents’ farm. The farm was filled with fun and adventure, but one day, an unfortunate accident occurred. While playing, Sammy accidentally shot his grandmother’s beloved pet duck with a slingshot (弹弓). Panicked, he quickly hid the duck behind a pile of old wood in the yard. He was afraid to tell his grandmother the truth, worried about being punished.

However, what he didn’t know was that his sister Marie had seen the entire event. The next day, when Grandma asked Marie to wash the dishes, Marie seized the opportunity to shift the responsibility onto Sammy. She said, “Sammy told me he wanted to help in the kitchen today, Grandma.” Sammy was shocked and confused because he had not said such a thing. Marie approached him and whispered threateningly, “Remember the duck?” It was then that Sammy realized Marie had seen his secret and was now using it to make him do the housework she didn’t want to do.

This situation continued for several days. Whenever there were household chores to be done, Marie would threaten Sammy with “Remember the duck?”. Sammy felt an increasing burden of guilt and responsibility.

Finally, he couldn’t bear the secret and pressure any longer and decided to tell everything to Grandma

In 1940, I worked in the checkroom of the railway station. I saw everybody that came up the stairs.

Harry was a young man who came to the station and waited at the head of the stairs for the passengers from the 9:05 train.

I remembered seeing Harry that first evening. He wasn’t much more than a thin, anxious kid then. He was all dressed up and I knew he was meeting his sister, who he hadn’t seen for many years.

Well, the passengers came up and I had to get busy. I didn’t look toward the stairs again until nearly time for the 9:18 and I was very surprised to see that the Harry was still there. His sister didn’t come on the 9:18 either, nor on the 9:40, and when the passengers from the 10:02 had all arrived and left, Harry was looking pretty upset. Pretty soon he came close to my window so I called out and asked him what his sister looked like.

“She’s small and dark. She is nineteen years old and very neat in the way she walk,” he said. “She has a face that has lots of spirit. I mean she can get mad but she never stays mad for long, and her eyebrows come to a little point in the middle. She’s got a brown fur, but maybe she isn’t wearing it.”

“I couldn’t remember seeing anybody like that,” I told him.

He showed me the telegram he’d received: ARRIVE THURSDAY. MEET ME AT THE STATION. MAY. It was from Omaha, Nebraska. “Well,” I finally said, “why don’t you phone to your home? She’s probably called there if she got in ahead of you.”

He gave me a sick look. “I’ve only been in the town for two days. We were going to meet and then drive down to the south of the city where I’ve got a job. She doesn’t have my address.”

When I came on duty the next day, Harry was still there and I asked more about his sister.

One day, after about two weeks, I thought I could say something encouraging to him.