Mothers and daughters go through so much—yet when was the last time a mother and daughter sat down to write a book together about it all? Perri Klass and her mother, Sheila Solomon Klass, both gifted professional writers, prove to be ideal co-writers as they examine their decades of motherhood, daughterhood, and the wonderful ways their lives have overlapped (重叠).

    Perri notes with amazement how closely her own life has mirrored her mother's: both have full-time careers； both have published books, articles, and stories； each has three children； they both love to read. They also love to travel—in fact, they often take trips together. But in truth, the harder they look at their lives, the more they acknowledge their big differences in circumstance and basic nature.

    A child of the Depression (大萧条), Sheila was raised in Brooklyn by parents who considered education a luxury for girls. Starting with her college education, she has fought for everything she's ever accomplished. Perri, on the other hand, grew up privileged in the New Jersey suburbs of the 1960s and 1970s. For Sheila, wasting time or money is a crime, and luxury is unthinkable while Perri enjoys the occasional small luxury, but has not been successful at trying to persuade her mother into enjoying even the tiniest thing she likes.

    Each writing in her own unmistakable voice, Perri and Sheila take turns exploring the joys and pains, the love and bitterness, the minor troubles and lasting respect that have always bonded them together. Sheila describes the adventure of giving birth to Perri in a tiny town in Trinidad where her husband was doing research fieldwork. Perri admits that she can't sort out all the mess in the households, even though she knows it drives her mother crazy. Together they compare thoughts on bringing up children and working, admit long-hidden sorrows, and enjoy precious memories.

    Looking deep into the lives they have lived separately and together, Perri and Sheila tell their mother-daughter story with honesty, humor, enthusiasm, and admiration for each other. A written account in two voices, Every Mother Is a Daughter is a duet (二重奏) that produces a deep, strong sound with the experiences that all mothers and daughters will recognize.

When I was in my third year at university, my roommates were American footballers, so I decided to join them. I remember seeing them in front of me wearing pads (防护垫), and thinking they were going to kill me. I got tackled (阻截) so hard that I was frightened. But then I realized it was just physical contact. I've been addicted since.

The fundamental aim of the game is to score by running with the ball into, or receiving the ball inside the opposition's end zone. Every player on the field has a set responsibility. I'm a running back. My job is using my speed, strength and skill to carry the ball and keep running until either I score or I get put down. And it does hurt.

I've broken two fingers and hurt my shoulder, but the worst was when I trapped the ligaments (韧带) in the back of my leg. I had to take a year out. But none of that put me off- all I could think was how I was going to come back stronger. Besides training with the team, I now have my gym routine to get fitter, faster and stronger.

Although people think American football is aggressive, there's much more to it. Every team has its own playbook, outlining everyone's role in different scenes. My playbook was 73 pages long. Words can't describe how it feels when it all comes together on the field.

American football has changed my life for the better. I've learned time management, how to take responsibility for my action, and how much I treasure being part of a team. Within the four lines of the field, it is physical. Emotions run high. If you're on the opposing team, you are my enemy. But once the game is done, we're like a big family.

    When I was a child, my grandmother Adele took me to museums, restaurants, dances. She showered me gifts from her travels around the world. But I can only remember a book she gave me—one book that, to this day, I have not read. She presented me with her own favorite childhood book: Hans Brinker. My grandmother was happy to share this book with me. She even decorated the title page with her proud writing.

    I tried to read it. I adored reading, and would dive into a new pile of books from the library all at once. But something about Hans Brinker just wouldn't let me in. The story was set in Holland, a long time ago. It felt dull and unfamiliar, even though I was a fan of classics of other times and places. I simply read the first pages over and over. I could not progress.

    Standing on a bookshelf in our living room, the book was like something I avoided. It scolded me for not being interested, for not trying hard enough, for disappointing my grandmother. The book started to fit in, almost forgotten, until Adele asked. Had I read it? Did I like it? Always determined, she wanted to know the answer. I would make some kind of excuse, but feel bad, and open it again, hoping for a new reaction. The book weighed on me.

    Years passed and finally Adele and I both accepted that I would never read Hans Brinker. Eventually I cleared the book from the shelf. The Hans Brinker experience led me to set a rule that I've lived by ever since: Do not ask about a book given as a gift and don't let anything become your barrier. What Adele originally wanted to do is to give book-giving special meaning, but she increased the possibility of the owner to be a disappointment.

    It was a Sunday and the heavy storm had lasted all night. The morning after the storm, though, was beautiful: blue skies, warm air and a calm, inviting sea touching the shore gently.

    My father realized it was a good day for fishing and invited my sister and me to go with him. I was only 14 and fishing had never been my thing, but I decided to go all the same. I'm so glad I did.

    On the road to the harbour we could see the terrible destruction on the coast, but the harbour itself was in fairly good shape. After all, it was protected by the arms of a bay that had only one tiny channel to the sea. As we got on board, we noticed two big hums(脊背)in the distance.

On approaching them, we saw it was a mother whale with her baby. We couldn't believe it –—there aren't any whales along the coast here. The storm must have driven them across the ocean into the bay, in which the still water was so badly polluted that nothing could survive.

The little baby whale—-actually as big as our boat—-was obviously stuck and could not move. The mother dived under the water and came up suddenly, making big whirlpools(漩涡)and waves. “She's trying to help her baby, but on the wrong side,” my father said. At this point, my father moved our boat in a semicircle to the other side and, heading the boat towards the baby whale, pushed it gently. With our several gentle pushes the big hump turned over and disappeared under water. Then it swam up right beside its mum. They struggled in their desperate attempts to escape but missed the exit and started heading in the wrong direction. We hurried up to the whales and tried to lead them towards the bay channel. Slowly, they let us lead them, sometimes rising from the water right beside us to breathe –—and to give us a trusting(信任的) look with those huge eyes. Once they hit their first part of clean water flowing straight from the sea, the mum gave us a wave with her tail and off they swam into the distance.

    In the excitement it had felt like only a few minutes, but we had been with those wonderful animals for almost an hour and a half. That was the simple and lasting beauty of the day. Nearly four decades later, I still look back fondly to that golden day at sea.

    A new device (设备) called Orion is helping those who are blind to see. It does this in a new way by helping them experience the world around them.

    Jason Esterhuizen lost his eyesight after a car accident. He never thought he would be able to see light or movement again. But now with the movement of a switch (开关), his world suddenly grew brighter.

    He says, "I still can't put it into words. I mean from being able to see absolutely nothing, it's completely black, to all of a sudden seeing little flickers (闪烁) of light move around." It is not full or normal sight, but Esterhuizen can move about in the world around him.

    The new technology uses several parts. One is a small device placed in the brain. The other parts are a video camera on sunglasses and a processing device that can be carried in a person's clothes. When the user points the camera, a signal goes to the processor (处理器) and then back to the glasses. The glasses then are in wireless communication with the device in the brain. The information causes a pattern to develop in the part of the brain. The pattern helps users sense or see movement and shapes of light. And it all happens in seconds.

    Esterhuizen is one of just two people in the U.S. testing this technology. He says that "I can tell someone moving across the room, walking past me or walking away from me, or it's a light against the wall. It is just amazing to have some form of functional vision again." He adds that now he can do everyday activities around his home that he once could not. It is easier to walk outside.

    The researchers believe that one day this technology could help people who have lost their vision because of illnesses like diabetes. It may also help those with poor vision or who were born blind.

The Kendama World Cup

Old-fashioned fun is making a comeback!

Many kids are putting down their electronic devices and picking up an ancient toy. It is called a kendama, and it possibly dates back to the 16th century.

The kendama is a small wooden hammer with three cup-shaped ends and a spike on top. A wooden ball with a center hole is attached by string to the hammer. The goal is to make the ball land in a cup or on the spike. It sounds simple, but there are over 1,000 kendama techniques and tricks to master.

The game's popularity began to grow after the Japan Kendama Association was started in 1975. Today all ages participate in various competitions, including the Kendama World Cup(KWC).

The two-year-old event, which opens in Hatsukaichi, attracts people from all over the world. Players choose 10 different tricks from an approved list. They are then awarded points corresponding to the level of each trick.

A new Kendama World Cup winner will be named tomorrow in this popular sporting event.