1 . My neighbour Orlando is a paramedic (护理人员). He and his wife are some of the nicest people I have ever met. A few years back we started this sort of “favor war”, where one of us would do something for the other, such as shoveling (铲) his driveway or helping him build a shed, and next time the other would try to top it with another favor.

Yesterday morning there was maybe 2 or 3 feet of snow on the ground and I remembered he shoveled my driveway for me last snowfall. So I took out my shovel and took care of both our sidewalks and driveways because it was my turn to do a favor back. It took a while but I finished and got into my car for work. What I did not realize was that Orlando had to work that day too.

Fast forward to this morning I got a knock on my door. It was him. He immediately shook my hand and informed me that because I shoveled his driveway and sidewalk for him, he was able to get to work earlier. As soon as he started his shift, a call came through that a young boy was in a medical emergency. Luckily he and his partner were only about 2 minutes away, but the next closest ambulance was in 10 minutes. This kid didn’t have 10 minutes. He barely had 2 minutes. Because my neighbour got to work sooner, the young boy got to live his life.

This isn’t a brag (吹嘘). This is to inform others that even the smallest favors can have the biggest impacts. It wasn’t too much of trouble to shovel his driveway for him, but because I did, the young kid got to see his family again, go back to school again, talk to his friends again and live his life.

2 . Bertie knew there was something in the wind. His mother had been sad in recent days, not sick, just strangely sad. The lion had just lain down beside him, his head warm on Bertie’s feet, when Father cleared his throat and began, “You’ll soon be eight, Bertie. A boy needs a proper education. We’ve found the right place for you, a school near Salisbury in England.”

His heart filled with a terrible fear, all Bertie could think of was his white lion. “But the lion,” he cried, “What about the lion?”

“I’m afraid there’s something else I have to tell you,” his father said. Looking across at Bertie’s mother, he took a deep breath. Then he told Bertie he had met a circus owner from France, who was over in Africa looking for lions to buy. He would come to their farm in a few days.

“No! You can’t send him to a circus!” said Bertie. “He’ll be shut up behind bars. I promised him he never would be. And they will come to see him and laugh at him. He’d rather die. Any animal would!” But as he looked across the table at them, he knew their minds were quite made up.

Bertie felt completely betrayed. He waited until he heard his father’s deep breathing next door. With his white lion at his heels, he crept downstairs in his pyjamas, took down his father’s rifle from the rack and stepped out into the night. He ran and ran till his legs could run no more. As the sun came up over the grassland, he climbed to the top of a hill and sat down, his arms round the lion’s neck. The time had come. “Be wild now,” he whispered. “You’ve got to be wild. Don’t ever come home. All my life I’ll think of you, I promise I will.” He buried his head in the lion’s neck. Then, Bertie clambered down off the hill and walked away.

When he looked back, the lion was still sitting there watching him; but then he stood up, yawned, stretched, and sprang down after him. Bertie shouted at him, but he kept coming. He threw sticks. He threw stones. Nothing worked.

There was only one thing left to do. Tears filling his eyes and his mouth, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and fired over the lion’s head.

3 . My teacher held up a piece of broken glass and asked, “Who broke this window?”

Thirty boys tried to think about not only what they had done, but also what the teacher might have found out. She seldom became angry, but she was this time.

“Oh,” I thought. I was the one who broke the window. It was caused by a naughty throw of a baseball. If I admitted guilt, I would be in a lot of trouble. How would I be able to pay for a big window like that? I didn’t even get an allowance. “My father is going to have a fit as a result of it,” I thought. I didn’t want to raise my hand, but some force much stronger than I was pulled it skyward (朝向天空). I told the truth, “I did it.” It was hard enough to say what I had done.

My teacher took down a book from one of our library shelves and I had never known my teacher to strike a student, but I feared she was going to start with me.

“I know how much you like birds,” she said as she stood looking down at my guilt-ridden face. “Here is the field guide about birds that you are constantly checking out. It is yours now. It’s time we got a new one for the school anyway. You will not be punished, but remember that I am not rewarding you for your misdeed (恶行), but I am rewarding you for your truthfulness.”

I couldn’t believe it! I wasn’t being punished and I was getting my own bird field guide — the very one that I had been saving up money to buy.

The lesson my teacher taught me stays with me every day, and it will echo forever.

4 . Five years ago, my wife said she’d found us a tiny but clean house, which was close to the historic Abbot Kinney. However, there was a bus depot (公共汽车车库) across the street. Hundreds of buses noisily parked there every night and noisily left every morning. It was awful.

But I was determined to make the best of it. “It is noisy, but it offers us a good way to think about what is required to make a city work,” I kept telling our 6-year-old daughter.

The one morning, I woke up to find that the buses were gone! I allowed myself to get excited. My daughter, however, was unhappy. It took me a minute to understand: she had got used to the idea of us having a role in city life.

Shortly afterward, a homeless encampment (临时营地) was built there. Then I found out what was planned for the bus depot—a place to deal with the homeless.

When I told my daughter about the “bridge housing”, a big smile spread across her face. Her first reaction wasn’t fear or selfishness. She understood immediately how special it was that the bus depot would become a place for people who needed just that to live.

What story about city life could I tell her then? I tried to keep fruit in the car so that at traffic lights, we could hand out a banana or an apple. When a woman put up a tent on the sidewalk in front of our stairs, I filled all her water bottles.

Now we have a couple hundred new neighbors, and I’ll be telling anyone who will listen what an honour it is to live among the homeless. Without my daughter, I might not have come to the same conclusion.

5 . When I was in the seventh grade, I volunteered about thirty to forty hours a week during the summer at a local hospital in my town. Most of the time I spent there was with Mr. Gillespie, who never had any visitors. Nobody seemed to care about his condition.

I spent many days there holding his hand and talking to him, helping with anything that needed to be done. He became a close friend of mine, even though he responded with only an occasional squeeze of my hand. Mr. Gillespie was in a coma (昏迷).

I left for a week to vacation with my parents, and when I came back, he was gone. I didn’t have the nerve to ask any of the nurses where he was, for fear they might tell me he had died. So with many questions unanswered, I continued to volunteer there through my eighth-grade year.

One day several years later, when I was at the gas station I noticed a familiar face. When I realized who it was, my eyes filled with tears. He was alive! I asked him if he was Mr. Gillespie. With an uncertain look on his faces, he replied yes. I explained how I knew him. His eyes welled up with tears, and he gave me the warmest hug I had ever received.

He began to tell me how, as he lay there comatose, he could hear me talking to him and could feel me holding his hand the whole time. He thought it was an angel, not a person, who was there with him. Mr. Gillespie firmly believed that it was my voice and touch that had kept him alive.

Although I haven’t seen him since, he fills my heart with joy every day. I know that I made a difference between his life and his death. More important, he has made a tremendous difference in my life. I will never forget him and what he did for me: he made me an angel.

7 . Some years ago in the departure lounge (休息室) of a flight from New York’s LaGuardia airport to O’Hare in Chicago, I found a young boy in tears and his mother at his side also appeared upset. I walked to them and invited them to our VIP lounge.

As it turned out, the boy, Miles and his mom were returning to their home in Kansas City. Miles has had some health problems. Though he had received more than thirty operations in a Jewish Hospital in New York, he would be back for more.

Miles enjoyed spending his time in our VIP lounge looking at the entire wall filled with the pictures of many celebrities (名人) who often came to our office. We soon added Miles’ picture to the wall among those celebrities. Among the celebrities, Miles liked the country singer Garth Brooks best. Miles would just sit and stare at Garth’s picture.

One day, Mr. Brooks was waiting in the lounge for his flight. As he looked at the collection of photographs, Garth asked about the youngster with the big smile. We told him about Miles. We also told him how much Miles loved and respected him. He nodded and left.

About six months later, Garth was going to perform in Kansas City and he asked our workers to help him get in touch with the family. He wanted Miles to be his guest. That evening, not only did Miles sit in the front row, but he and Garth also had a private meeting after the performance.

Although Miles would receive many more treatments after that special evening, his smile greeted us with every following visit. The face of a sick boy was changed by the joy of a stranger.