What Will Be Done-With All This Denim?

    All the denim (牛仔布) will be donated to Cotton From Blue to Green, which recycles jeans into UltraTouch Natural Cotton Fiber Insulation (纤维隔热材料), which is used to help build houses in places that have been damaged by hurricanes and other natural disasters. Your jeans will help keep clothes out of landfills (垃圾场), and build houses for families to live in! UltraTouch is made of 85% recycled fibers and is an environmentally safe, natural cotton fiber insulation.

It's a Fact

    It takes about 500 pairs of jeans to recycle enough denim to insulate one average-size U.S house.

Here's How You Can Get Involved!

1). Get a parent's permission and select as many denim jeans as you like. (Any denim clothing is OK)

2). The denim must be used.

3). The denim can be any brand.

4). The denim can be any color or size but must have been worn by a human (no doll clothes!).

5). Jeans must be received by June 30, 2017.

    By donating denim, you can give it a “new life” by converting it into UltraTouch Natural Cotton Fiber Insulation. Click here for more information about the denim drive.

    UltraTouch is composed of 85% recycled fibers and is an environmentally safe, non- itch natural cotton fiber insulation. For more information about UltraTouch, click here.

    A city child's summer is spent in the street in front of his home, and all through the long summer vacations I sat on the edge of the street and watched enviously the other boys on the block play baseball. I was never asked to take part even when one team had a member missing—not out of special cruelty, but because they took it for granted I would be no good at it. They were right, of course.

    I would never forget the wonderful evening when something changed. The baseball ended about eight or eight thirty when it grew dark. Then it was the custom of the boys to retire to a little stoop(门廊) that stuck out from the candy store on the corner and that somehow had become theirs. No grownup ever sat there or attempted to. There the boys would sit, mostly talking about the games played during the day and of the game to be played tomorrow. Then long silences would fall and the boys would wander off one by one. It was just after one of those long silences that my life as an outsider changed. I can no longer remember which boy it was that summer evening who broke the silence with a question: but whoever he was, I nod to him gratefully now. “What's in those books you're always reading?” he asked casually. “Stories,” I answered. “What kind?” asked somebody else without much interest.

    Nor do I know what drove me to behave as I did,for usually I just sat there in silence, glad enough to be allowed to reain among them; but instead of answering his question, I told them for two hours the story I was reading at the moment. The book was Sister Carrie. They listened bug-eyed and breathless. I must have told it well, but I think there was another and deeper reason that made them to keep an audience. Listening to a tale being told in the dark is one of the most ancient of man's entertainments, but I was offering them as well, without being aware of doing it, a new and exciting experience.

    The books they themselves read were the Rover Boys or Tom Swift or G.A.Henty. I had read them too, but at thirteen I had long since left them behind. Since I was much alone I had become an enthusiastic reader and I had gone through the books-for-boys series. In those days there was no reading material between children's and grownups'books or I could find none. I had gone right fromTome Swift and His Flying Machine to Theodore Dreiser and Sister Carrie. Dreiser had hit my young mind, and they listened to me tell the story with some of the wonder that I had had in reading it.

    The next night and many nights thereafter, a kind of unspoken ritual (仪式) took place. As it grew dark, I would take my place in the center of the stoop and begin the evening's tale. Some nights, in order to taste my victory more completely, I cheated. I would stop at the most exciting part of a story by Jack London or Bret Harte, and without warning tell them that that was as far as I had gone in the book and it would have to be continued the following evening. It was not true, of course; but I had to make certain of my new-found power and position. I enjoyed the long summer evenings until school began in the fall. Other words of mine have been listened to by larger and more fashionable audiences, but for that tough and athletic one that sat close on the stoop outside the candy store, I have an unreasoning love that will last forever.

    I'd planned to spend my weekend in the sun, potting flowers outdoors. But that was before the pair of crows (乌鸦). Out of nowhere, they had set up their base camp in our backyard.

    We first discovered our feathered enemies on Friday morning. It was early, and the sound the birds made traveled through our neighborhood. I figured they'd go away soon. But, no. They were getting louder and probably annoying my neighbors nearly as much as us with the noise. I admit I got a little desperate.

    Then, on Sunday afternoon, I looked out the kitchen window to see our dog Quatchi staring at something on the ground. I went to explore and found a small coal-black bird in the grass. Its eyes were milky, and it stayed perfectly still as my dog inched towards it. Only when Quatchi touched his nose to its head did it walk away. I took hold of the dog and locked him inside and came back with my camera.

    It never occurred to me that the young would be hanging out on the ground, growing and gaining strength as its parents guarded it from above. The second I saw this little creature I forgave the crows.

    To be honest, I've never been much of a bird person. I also have a healthy respect for birds, and by healthy I mean slightly fear-based. They're basically living dinosaurs.

    I wish they'd chosen another backyard. There are only so many sunny days in Seattle, and I still can't do any gardening out there. But I'm also grateful that I got to see this little bit of nature unfold up close. It's pretty amazing.

    The experience has also strengthened my desire to create a beautiful backyard garden that attracts lots of bees, butterflies, and yes, birds. They are welcome here.

    If you are given only 1 yuan, could you live in a city for one day? It seems this may be a little difficult. But students from Xi'an did it.

    On April 10, more than 60 students from the Middle School Attached to Northwestern Polytechnic University took part in the One Yuan Metropolis Survival. The charitable organization for teenagers called Imperceptible Education held this activity. Students not only have to live, but they also have to deal with a lot of hard tasks. It has happened in eight cities and is going to four others, including Beijing, in June.

    To make money, many students looked for part-time jobs and saw how hard life was. Zhang Queue, 14, asked more than 10 restaurants for a job and finally got one chance. “We were sad when they said no. But gradually (逐渐地), we got used to it,” he said. After being a waiter for an hour, he got 25 yuan.

    Some made use of their talents by singing and dancing in parks or shopping malls. Many people who walked by took notice and helped them. Zhao Jincheng, 14, drew pictures and made paper crafts(手工). “This showed it's important to learn a special skill,” he said.

    Living was hard, but finishing the tasks wasn't any easier. They went to different places to finish tasks in a short time. The most amazing one was when they had to exchange things worth thousands yuan with only a piece of paper in half an hour. “We learned how to persuade others. From a balloon to a cake to a bottle of yogurt (酸乳) … after almost 20 tries, we got an expensive necklace,” he said. They will give all of the money they made to poor schools in Tibet.

    I've been in the taxicab business for thirty-five years, and I know there is a lot about it that is not so good. Taxicab drivers have to be tough fellows to be able to work in New York. You've got to fight the New York traffic eight hours a day these days, so people get the wrong impression that they are bad.

    Actually, taxi drivers are just like other people. Most of them will behave as honest fellows. You read in the papers almost every week that a taxi driver turns in money or jewels that people leave in their cabs. If they weren't honest, you wouldn't be reading those stories in the papers.

    One time in Brooklyn, I found a diamond ring in my cab. I remembered helping a lady with a lot of packages that day, so I went back to where I had dropped her. It took me almost two days to trace her down in order to return her ring to her. I didn't get as much as “thank you”. Still I felt good because I had done what was right. I think I felt better than she did.

    I was born and raised in Ireland and lived there until I was nineteen years old. Then I came to this country where I had a family and bought my own cab. Life hasn't been too easy at times, but my wife takes care of our money and we have a good bit put away for a rainy day.

    When I started driving a cab, Park Avenue was mostly a bunch of coal yards. Hoofer's Brewery was right next to where the Waldorf-Astoria is now. I did pretty well, even in those days. In all my years of driving a taxicab, I have never had any trouble with the public, not even with drunks.

    I believe honesty is one of the greatest gifts. I know they call it a lot of fancy names these days, like integrity（正直）, etc. But it doesn't make any difference what they call it; it's still what makes a man a good citizen. This is my code, and I try to live by.

    Many experts say that Billy Wilder changed the history of American movies. He is often called the best movie maker Hollywood has ever had, known for making movies that offered sharp social comment.

    Between the 1930s and the 1980s, Billy Wilder made almost fifty movies. During that time he received more than twenty nominations from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. He won six of the Oscar awards. His movies have been seen by people around the world, like “Sunset Boulevard”, “Some Like It Hot”, “The Lost Weekend”, “The Apartment”, and “The Seven Year Itch”.

    Samuel Wilder was born in 1906 in the former Austro-Hungarian Empire. His mother had enjoyed spending several years in the United States when she was young. So she called him Billy because she thought it sounded American. Billy Wilder started law school in Vienna, Austria. Then he decided not to become a lawyer. Instead, he began reporting for a Vienna newspaper. By the 1920s, he was writing movies in Germany.

    However, the Nazis had risen to power in the nation. Wilder was Jewish, and he recognized that he had no future in Nazi Germany. In 1933, he went to Paris. There he directed a movie for the first time. It was called “The Bad Seed”. Then he received word that producers in the United States had accepted one of his scripts. Billy Wilder left Europe for America.

    Billy Wilder had only eleven dollars when he arrived to settle in the United States in 1934. He decided to live in the center of American movie making, Hollywood, California. Then he formed a writing team with Charles Brackett. The two writers created many successful films together. Wilder always praised this man as a friend and teacher whose humor and expert direction greatly influenced his work.

    In his love stories, Billy Wilder did not follow the Hollywood tradition of sweet boy-meets-girl situations. He had an unusual way of showing relations between men and women. Wilder died in March, 2002. A current Hollywood producer said: “Billy Wilder made movies that people will never forget.”