1 . Computer programmer David Jones earns $35,000 a year designing new computer games, yet he cannot find a bank ready to let him have a credit card. Instead he has been told to wait another two years until he is 18. The 16-year-old works for a small firm in Liverpool where the problem of most young people of his age is finding a job. David’s firm releases two new games for the fast growing computer market each month.

But David’s biggest headache is what to do with his money. Even though he earns a lot, he cannot drive a car, take out a mortgage, or get credit cards. David got his job with the Liverpool-based company four months ago, a year after leaving school with six O-levels and working for a time in a computer shop. “I got the job because the people who run the firm knew I had already written some programs” he said. David spends some of his money on records and clothes and gives his mother 50 pounds a week. But most of his spare time is spent working.

“Unfortunately, computing was not part of our studies at school”, he said. “But I had been studying it in books and magazines for four years in my spare time. I knew what I wanted to do and never considered staying on at school. Most people in this business are fairly young, anyway” David added, “I would like to earn a million and I suppose early retirement is a possibility. You never know when the market might disappear.”

2 . Tia Wimbush and Susan Ellis have been co-workers for a decade, and while they didn’t know each other well, they had a lot in common, both working in information technology at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta and both dealing with the same medical stress at home: their spouses each needed a kidney transplant, and while Wimbush could have given her husband one of hers, she wasn’t an ideal match. Ellis, meanwhile, was no match at all for her husband.

One day, in the fall of 2020, the women saw each other in the office restroom and started chatting, lamenting that patients can wait five or more years for their name to come up on the national kidney cadaver donor waiting list. Both women worried their husbands didn’t have that kind of time.

Wimbush asked Ellis what her husband’s blood type was. He’s type O, Ellis replied.

Wimbush then said that her husband was type AB.

The women paused for a moment and looked at each other.

“I told Susan, ‘Wait a second-what are the odds that we’re both going through this with our husbands at the same time and we could also be in a position to help them?’” Wimbush says. “That’s when we both knew: We had to get tested.”

So they did. Antibody tests revealed that each woman was an excellent match for the other’s spouse. And in March 2021, seven months after that chance conversation, Tia Wimbush donated one of her kidneys to Lance Ellis, and Susan Ellis donated one of hers to Rodney Wimbush.

Christina Klein, a nephrologist and medical director of Piedmont Atlanta Hospital’s kidney transplant program, says it is extremely rare for two people to propose their own paired organ exchange and actually be a match for each other. “I’ve personally never seen this happen,” Dr. Klein says. “When we put pairs into large databases for national paired exchange programs, some pairs wait months or even years for a compatible match.”

The couples first met a few days before the surgeries when they came to the hospital for a final round of testing. Before that, they had chatted on FaceTime a bit. The surgeries lasted about three to four hours each and were a success, with no complications.

“It’s really just a story about simple kindness,” Susan Ellis says. “For us, it started with two people just being good humans. Now we’d like to tell people they can do the same.”

Rodney Wimbush says he will be forever grateful that his wife decided to bring up a conversation about blood types in the office restroom. “Susan and Lance are going to come with us to North Carolina for our son’s first college football game,” his wife adds. “I guess you could say we’ve skipped the friendship. We’re family now.”

3 . Some say everyday miracles are predestined (注定的) -- All that’s necessary is readiness, the right circumstance for the appointed meeting. And it can happen anywhere.

In 1999, 11-year-old Kevin Stephan was a bat boy for his younger brother’s Little League team in Lancaster, New York. It was an early evening in late July. Kevin was standing on the grass away from the plate, where another youngster was warming up for the next game. Swinging his bat back and forth, and giving it all the power an elementary school kid could give, the boy brought the bat back hard and hit Kevin in the chest. His heart stopped.

When Kevin fell to the ground, the mother of one of the players rushed out of the stands to his aid. Penny Brown hadn’t planned to be there that day, but at the last minute, she changed her shift (轮班) at the hospital, and she was given the night off. Penny bent over the senseless boy, his face already starting to turn blue, and giving CPR, breathing into his mouth and giving chest compressions (按压). And he came to life.

After his recovery, he became a volunteer junior firefighter, learning some of the emergency first-aid techniques that had saved his life. He studied hard in school and was saving money for college by working as a dishwasher in a local restaurant in his spare time.

Kevin, now 17, was working in the kitchen when he heard people screaming, customers in confusion, employees rushing toward a table. He hurried into the main room and saw a woman there, her face turning blue, her hands at her throat. She was choking (哽住).

Quickly Kevin stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her and clasped his hands. Then, using skills he’d first learned in Scouts, the food that was trapped in the woman’s throat was freed. The color began to return to her face.

“The food was stuck. I couldn’t breathe,” she said. She thought she was dying. “I was very frightened.”

Who was the woman?

Penny Brown.

5 . As the sun set he remembered, to give himself more confidence, the time in the tavern at Casablanca when he had played the hand game with the great negro from Cienfuegos who was the strongest man on the docks. They had gone one day and one night with their elbows on a chalk line on the table and their forearms straight up and their hands gripped tight. Each one was trying to force the other’s hand down onto the table. There was much betting and people went in and out of the room under the kerosene lights and he had looked at the arm and hand of the negro and at the negro’s face. They changed the referees every four hours after the first eight so that the referees could sleep. Blood came out from under the fingernails of both his and the negro’s hands and they looked each other in the eye and at their hands and forearms and the bettors went in and out of the room and sat on high chairs against the wall and watched. The walls were painted bright blue and were of wood and the lamps threw their shadows against them. The negro’s shadow was huge and it moved on the wall as the breeze moved the lamps.

The odds would change back and forth all night and they fed the negro rum and lighted cigarettes for him. Then the negro, after the rum, would try for a tremendous effort and once he had the old man, who was not an old man then but was Santiago El Campeon, nearly three inches off balance. But the old man had raised his hand up to dead even again. He was sure then that he had the negro, who was a fine man and a great athlete, beaten. And at daylight when the bettors were asking that it be called a draw and the referee was shaking his head, he had unleashed his effort and forced the hand of the negro down and down until it rested on the wood. The match had started on a Sunday morning and ended on a Monday morning.

Many of the bettors had asked for a draw because they had to go to work on the docks loading sacks of sugar or at the Havana Coal Company.

Otherwise everyone would have wanted it to go to a finish. But he had finished it anyway and before anyone had to go to work.

For a long time after that everyone had called him The Champion and there had been a return match in the spring. But not much money was bet and he had won it quite easily since he had broken the confidence of the negro from Cienfuegos in the first match. After that he had a few matches and then no more. He decided that he could beat anyone if he wanted to badly enough and he decided that it was bad for his right hand for fishing. He had tried a few practice matches with his left hand. But his left hand had always been a traitor and would not do what he called on it to do and he did not trust it.

Quoted from The Old Man and the Sea

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao,     1     is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week.

It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail    2     (patch v. 缝补) with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from     3     (handle) heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.

Everything about him was old     4     his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.

“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I could go with you again. We’ve made some money.”

The old man had taught the boy     5     (fish) and the boy loved him.

“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”

“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big     6     every day for three weeks.”

“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”

“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I    7     obey him.”

“I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.”

“He hasn’t much faith.”

“No,” the old man said. “    8     we have, Haven’t we?”

“Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.”

“Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.”

When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today there was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.

“Santiago,” the boy said.

“Yes,” the old man said. He     9     (hold) his glass and thinking of many years ago.

“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”

“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”

“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you, I would like to serve in some way.”

“You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.”

“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”

“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly     10     (tear) the boat to pieces. Can you remember?”

7 . All Miss White had been told about the new boy was that he’d spent most of his life in some kind of orphanage, and that the gray-haired “aunt and uncle” with whom he now lived were really foster parents (养父母), paid by the Welfare Department of the City of New York. A less devoted teacher might have pressed for more details, but Miss White was content with the rough outline. It was enough to fill her with a sense of mission that shone from her eyes, from the first morning he joined the fourth grade.

He arrived early and sat in the back row, his backbone very straight, his ankles crossed precisely under the desk and his hands folded on the center of its top, and while the other children were filling in, he received a long, expressionless stare from each of them.

“We have a new classmate this morning,” Miss White said, “His name is Vincent Sabella, and he comes from New York City. I know we’ll all do our best to make him feel at home.”

This time they all swung around to stare at once, which caused him to duck his head slightly and shift his weight from one side to the other. Ordinarily, the fact of someone’s coming from New York might have held a certain status, for to most of the children the city was a frightening, adult place that swallowed up their fathers every day. But anyone could see at a glance that Vincent Sabella had nothing to do with it. Even if you could ignore his twisted black hair and gray skin, his clothes would have given him away: ridiculously new pants, ridiculously old sports shoes and a yellow sweatshirt, much too small, with the faded remains of a Mickey Mouse design stamped on its chest.

The girls decided that he wasn’t very nice and turned away, but the boys remained in their inspection, looking him up and down with faint smiles. This was the kind of kid they were accustomed to thinking of as “tough,” the kind whose stare has made all of them uncomfortable at one time or another in unfamiliar neighborhoods; here was a unique chance for revenge.

9 . On a cold winter evening, I was walking home, tired and hungry, when suddenly came screams (呼喊声) from behind some trees. _________ , I slowed down to listen, and realized that what I was hearing were the sounds of a fight. A girl was being _________ not far from where I stood.

“Should I go to help her?” I thought. I was worried about my own _________ , and I regretted having suddenly decided to take a new way home that night. “What if I’m hurt too? Shouldn’t I just _________ to the nearest phone and call the police?” But already the girl’s _________ were growing weaker. I knew it was time for me to act fast because I could not _________ to the life of this unknown girl _________ it meant risking my own life.

I am not a _________ man. I didn’t know where I found the courage and physical strength, but once I had finally _________ to help the girl, I became suddenly changed. I ran behind the bushes and ____________ the attacker off the girl. Struggling, we fell to the ground, where we fought for a few minutes until the man jumped up and escaped.

____________ heavily, I stood up and came up to the girl, who was crying behind a tree. In the ____________ , I could not see her clearly, but I could certainly ____________ her shock. Not wanting to frighten her any further, I at first spoke to her from a distance.

“It’s OK,” I said ____________ . “The man ran away. You’re safe now.” There was a long stop and then I heard the words, said in both wonder and surprise, “Dad, is that you?” And then, from behind the tree, stepped out my youngest ____________ , Katherine.