My dad, George, only had an eighth-grade education. A quiet man, he didn’t understand my world of school activities. From age 14. he worked. And his dad, Albert, took the money my dad earned and used it to pay family expenses.

I didn’t really understand his world either: He was a livestock trucker, and I thought that I would surpass anything he had accomplished by the time I walked across the stage at high school graduation. Summers in the mid-70s were spent at home shooting baskets, hitting a baseball, or throwing a football, preparing for my future as a quarterback on a football team. In poor weather, I read about sports or practiced my trombone. The summer before my eighth grade I was one of a group of boys that a neighboring farmer hired to work in his field. He explained our basic task, the tractor fired up and we were off, riding down the field looking for weeds to spray with chemicals. After a short way, the farmer stopped and pointed at a weed which we missed. Then we began again. This happened over and over, but we soon learned to identify different grasses like cockleburs, lamb’s-quarters, foxtails, and the king of weeds, the pretty purple thistle. It was tiring work, but I looked forward to the pay, even though I wasn’t sure how much it would amount to.

At home, my dad said, “A job’s a big step to growing up. I’m glad you will be contributing to the household.” My dad’s words made me realize that my earnings might not be mine to do with as I wished.

My labors lasted about two weeks, and the farmer said there might be more work, but I wasn’t interested. I decided it was not fair that I had to contribute my money.

The pay day arrived at last.

I understand immediately what my parents were worried about.

The Little Girl Who Dared To Wish

As Amy Hagadorn rounded the corner across the hall from her classroom, she knocked into a tall boy from the fifth grade running in the opposite direction.

"Watch it , squirt(矮子)." The boy yelled as he passed by the little third-grader. Then, with a bad smile on his face, the boy took hold of his right leg and copied the way Amy limped(跛行)when she walked.

Amy closed her eyes. Ignore him, she told herself as she headed for her classroom.

But at the end of the day, Amy was still thinking about the tall boy's mean teasing. It wasn't as if he were the only one. It seemed that ever since Amy started the third grade, someone teased her every single day. Kids teased her about her speech or her limping. Amy was tired of it.

Back home at the dinner table that evening, Amy was quiet. Her mother knew that things were not going well at school. That's why Patti Hagadorn was happy to have some exciting news to share with her daughter.

"There's a Christmas wish contest on the radio station," Amy's mom announced. "Write a letter to Santa, and you might win a prize."

Amy giggled. The contest sounded like fun. She started thinking about what she wanted most for Christmas.

A smile took hold of Amy when the idea first came to her. Out came pencil and paper, and Amy went to work on her letter.

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Amy. I am nine years old. I have a problem at school. Can you help me Santa? Kids laugh at me because of the way I walk and run and talk. I have a serious disease. I just want one day where no one laughs at me or makes fun of me.Love, Amy.

When Amy's letter arrived at the radio station, manager Lee Tobin read it carefully.

Suddenly the postman in the community was a regular at the Hagadorn house.

Many years ago, my father, who was 80 at that time, arrived for his regular two-week visit at my home in Karachi. He lived with my elder brother in Lahore most of the time and for ten years had stuck to his habit of going for an hour-long morning walk to keep fit. In Lahore, he would walk around a park that is quite close to my brother’s house. Naturally, he was keen to continue his morning walk while with us in Karachi.

Our preferred park is a 2 km walk from my house and it has a l km walking track. I could not drive him there every day as I had to leave for the office at the same time he wanted to set out. Since there are hardly any footpaths in Karachi, my father said he was delighted to walk on the road as he was certain there wouldn’t be much traffic in the morning.

I was less confident so I suggested it would be safer if he changed his walk time to the evening. That way I could take him to the park after work. However, my father-a determined person-said that he could not change his routine for just a few days and insisted that he would be leaving the house every day at 7 am and returning by 8 am. He started doing this and stuck firmly to his schedule. So one day when he had not returned by 8:30 am, my wife, Qaisa, phoned me in a panic. Worried, I immediately drove home, taking the same route that my father would have taken for his walk.

Not spotting him anywhere, I went to the police station to report my father’s disappearance. The station house officer advised me to wait until midnight before filling the report. Since it was only 10 am, I drove back to the park, in the hope of discovering some trace, but in vain. Totally at a loss for what to do next, I returned home and waited impatiently, walking back and forth in the house.

At 10:35 am the doorbell rang and my father stood outside the door smiling, accompanied by a young man.

After knowing what had happened, I showed my appreciation of his kindness.

Ali and his younger sister, Zahra, lived with their parents in a poor neighborhood. Their mother was very sick and their father was struggling to find a job, and they had only a little money with which to buy food. As they had not paid the rent for several months, the landlord was breathing down their necks.

One day, Ali took Zahra's shoes to a shoe repairman to be fixed, but he lost them on the way home. It wasn't until he got home that he realized he had lost the shoes. He was afraid that his parents would be angry and disappointed, so he begged his sister to keep it secret. Zahra agreed and the two decided to share Ali's running shoes. Zahra's school hours were in the morning, so she would wear them first. After school, she would rush back and give them to Ali. He could then run to his school, which began in the afternoon. Although he ran as fast as he could, Ali often arrived late and was warned by the school.

Ali heard about a long distance race that was held for the boys in the city. When he learned that the third prize was a new pair of shoes, he decided to take part. He ran home excitedly and promised his sister that he would win her the new shoes.

The day of race arrived. Ali had a strong start, but halfway through the race he began to get tired and his legs began to ache.(痛)

Filled with delight, Ali walked home quickly.

My Parents and I had been planning my brother’s birthday party since the beginning of March. Johnny would be six years old in two weeks. My mom was going to bake her special chocolate cake with white icing. As I watched her, I thought, “I wonder what I can do to make my brother’s birthday special.”

I knew my parents had already bought a present for me to give to Johnny, but I wanted to buy him something I had chosen myself and with the money I had saved. After giving it some thought, I wanted to buy him the paint-by-number kit (数字涂色小套装) I had seen at the store around the comer.

I decided to empty my coin jar (存钱罐)   and see how much money I had saved. However, I was disappointed to find there was much less than I had imagined. “Oh, no, I only have about three dollars,” I muttered to myself. The set cost more than I had saved.

Suddenly a “great” idea occurred to me. I slid into my parents’ bedroom where my dad kept loose change (零钱) on top of the dresser (梳妆台). I stood on my tiptoes and saw some coins. I carefully counted out what I needed to make up the difference. “I'm sure Dad won't mind just this once,” I thought.

However, I was soon overcome by guilt (负罪感). Even though there was no one else in the bedroom, I felt like I was being watched. Mom was always telling us about the importance of honesty. Maybe my plan wasn't such a great idea after all. However, I still put all the change I found into my own pocket.

I slid out of my parents’ room and headed toward the door. “Where are you going, Arwen? ” Mom asked, “Oh, just up to the corner store,” I replied. “Well, don't stay out too long, Daddy will be home soon.” “Okay, Mom” I ran out of our house.

Once I got to the store, I took the paint-by-number kit from the shelf.

“Can I help you, young lady?” the saleswoman asked.

“No. I'm just looking, thank you,” I said.

“That's a really nice paint kit. We sell a lot of them and, as you can see, that's the last one.” she said.