3 . Sam is autistic. Thus, dining out can be tricky. Though he loves to eat, he dislikes the loud noise during restaurant dining. So he has a solution: overpower all noise with a much louder noise of his own. Faced with a possibility of dining alone all the time, I decided to work on dining skills at a trendy new spot early one Tuesday night.

To my delight, we arrived at an empty restaurant. So far, so good. Everything went well until two older and elegantly-dressed women entered. They were seated two tables away from us. I felt a sense of impending doom.

The women began to chat, paying little notice to us. Sam happily took this as his cue(暗示) to start talking and drown them out. I leaned into Sam and asked for a quiet voice, but unfortunately Sam had left that voice at home.

I glanced at the neighboring table, knowing we wouldn’t go unnoticed much longer. I quickly used Plan B: eat quickly and leave. Sam, who normally inhales food, suddenly embraced the concept of leisurely dining and refused to rush — all while chattering away endlessly.

“SHUSH!” I said, a little annoyed. Sam responded by giggling loudly. “Be quiet!”

Now the two women were watching us. The older of the two women leaned over. “Here it comes!” I thought. She completely surprised me when she said, “Honey, stop shushing that boy. He has something important to say. I have friends that talk way more than he does, and they aren’t nearly as interesting.”

Then she asked Sam, “Now, boy, Don’t you listen to your mom. You talk as much as you want. I want to hear everything you have to say.” Turning to me, she added, “You have a delightful boy. Relax and enjoy your dinner—and don’t let him skip the chocolate cake. It’s unmissable.”

I will always remember those two lovely ladies. Their kindness meant the world to a stressed-out mom. Wherever they are, we’re sending them lots of love and hopes for chocolate cake.

5 . In 1955, at age 12, I became obsessed (着迷) with the idea of recording an album for our parents to do something in celebration of their wedding day. My sister, brother, and I would sing our favourite songs for them.

The recording was to be kept a secret from our parents. I found a local studio, Dunford Recordings, not too far from where we lived in Christchurch. I rang and asked the cost of making a record.

To pay for the recording, I saved the money I earned from helping my aunty Mae in the school holidays. I called a family friend and persuaded her to accompany us on the piano. We couldn’t practise with her for fear of being found out, so I got my sister and brother together and we worked out a routine.

I arranged with Aunty Mae, in strictest secrecy, to take us to the studio at the appointed time. We sang our first two songs a couple of times so they could select the best version, but by the time we got to the third song we were rather tired, so only recorded it once.

Outside the studio door, I had been holding the record very carefully but my sister snatched it from me and it rolled out of its jacket, down the stairs, bouncing onto the pavement and then onto the road. Gasp! Horror! Mercifully, it was undamaged.

The day came and we excitedly gave our precious present to our parents. They were surprised indeed. However, it never occurred to me that my parents bought a brand-new radiogram to play the record on.

My parents had been secretly warned by my aunt about our surprise, and unknown to us, they were downstairs in the appliance shop buying the radiogram while we were upstairs recording. They actually saw the record roll out onto the street.

Our recording has become a wonderful memory of the past.

6 . We journalists live in a new age of storytelling, with many new multimedia tools. Many young people don’t even realize it’s new. For them, it’s just normal.

This hit home for me as I was sitting with my 2-year-old grandson on a sofa over the Spring Festival holiday. I had brought a children’s book to read. It had simple words and colorful pictures — a perfect match for his age.

Picture this: my grandson sitting on my lap as I hold the book in front so he can see the pictures. As I read, he reaches out and pokes (戳) the page with his finger.

What’s up with that? He just likes the pictures, I thought. Then I turned the page and continued. He poked the page even harder. I nearly dropped the book. I was confused: Is there something wrong with this kid?

Then I realized what was happening. He was actually a stranger to books. His father frequently amused the boy with a tablet computer which was loaded with colorful pictures that come alive when you poke them. He thought my storybook was like that.

Sorry, kid. This book is not part of your high-tech world. It’s an outdated, lifeless thing. An antique, like your grandfather. Well, I may be old, but I’m not hopelessly challenged, digitally speaking. I edit video and produce audio. I use mobile payment. I’ve even built websites.

There’s one notable gap in my new-media experience, however: I’ve spent little time in front of a camera, since I have a face made for radio. But that didn’t stop China Daily from asking me last week to share a personal story for a video project about the integration of Beijing, Tianjin and Hebei province.

Anyway, grandpa is now an internet star — two minutes of fame! I promise not to let it go to my head. But I will make sure my 2-year-old grandson sees it on his tablet.

8 . Five years ago, when it was time for my cousin to start college, my 75-year-old grandfather, Rex, decided to do the same. He went to ______, taking classes twice a week until his death last summer.

As a student, my grandfather spent countless hours in his office ______ and completing assignments. Although he was twice as ______ as his professors, he loved going. He said,“You can never ______ too much, no matter how old you are.” He loved everything about school. Learning new things was truly his passion.

My grandfather’s will to learn was a great ______ for me to do my best in school. We were always ______ with each other, trying to bring home the better grade. When he turned 80 and still had a full head of hair, my grandfather even felt like he could take on the ______. He felt like he could beat the unstoppable no matter what came in his way---whether it was his continuing with cancer ______ a tough professor.

Some people look to Superman or Batman as their ______, but my grandfather will forever be my hero, the ______ who always came to my rescue. My grandfather was made the hall of fame（名人堂） at his high school as one of the school’s most successful football players. When I did some research I _______that his nickname was Atlas. In Greek mythology（神话）, Atlas held the heavens on his shoulders. For my grandfather’s football team, he was ______ Atlas, holding the team together. He was my Atlas too, as the foundation of our family.

In my times of need he was always there to ______ me and celebrate my success. I could count on him to help me out and stand by me. The strength he ______ with me will continue to hold me up as I forever keep his memory ______ in my heart and mind.

Jenny lived in a small village. When she was a child, what she liked to do most was watch the blue sky and enjoy birds flying freely in the sky. She always imagined that some day she could also fly in the sky like a bird.

When Jane was in the fourth grade, one day, her teacher asked them to write a report on what they wanted to be when they grew up. She poured her heart into her report and wrote that she dreamed to become an airline pilot in the future. She thought that she did a great job because she expressed her real idea successfully. However, to her surprise, her paper came back with an “F” on it. The teacher told her it was nothing but a “fairy tale”, which could never become true. Jenny felt completely disappointed and sad. In her heart, she didn't want to accept that a girl couldn't become a pilot. But as the years went by, Jenny was beaten down by the discouragement again and again from people around her. “Girls can't become airline pilots; never have, never will. You're crazy.” Finally, Jenny gave up her dream.

However, when Jenny studied in her senior year of high school, she met an English teacher called Marsha, who was a strict teacher with high standards but very kind. She often inspired her students to do something meaningful in the future. One day, Mrs. Marsha asked all the students to think about the question: “What will you do in the future?” At that time, Jenny hesitated for a while. She was worried that she would be laughed at again. But soon she felt a rush of the old enthusiasm, and with excitement she wrote down the very old dream of becoming a pilot right away.

The next day, Marsha came into the classroom with a bright smile on her face.

The hurt and fear of years of discouragement disappeared.