Across the street from where we live, there stands a big hospital. To earn some money, we rented the rooms upstairs to patients. One evening, there was a(n) 1 at the door. I opened it and saw a short old man who was hardly 2 than my eight-year-old son. But the worst thing was his face—it was 3 ugly. He told me he'd been 4 a room since that noon but no one seemed to have one. For a moment I hesitated, not 5 to rent him a room, but his next words convinced me. He said,“I could 6 on this chair. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a 7.

    It wasn't a long time before I found that this old man had a 8 heart in that tiny body. He fished for a living to 9 his daughter, his daughter's children, and her disabled husband. He didn't tell it by way of complaint. Instead, he was 10 that no pain was caused by his disease and that he still had strength to keep going. At 11, we put a camp cot(吊床) in my children's room for him.12 he left the next morning, he asked, “Could I please come back and 13 when I see the doctor next time? Grown-ups are bothered by my 14, but children don't seem to 15. ”I told him he was welcome to come again.

    On his next trip, he brought a big fish and a bag of the largest oysters（牡蛎）I had ever seen. Other times we received 16 in the mail. There were oysters, fish or some fresh vegetables. 17 how little money he had and that he must walk three miles to 18 these made these gifts much more precious. And from him we 19 what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good 20gratitude.

    I was required to read one of Bernie Siegel's books in college and was hooked on his positivity from that moment on. The stories of his unconventional1and the exceptional patients he wrote about were so2 to me and had such a big3on how I saw life from then on.

    Who knew that so many years later I would look to Dr. Bernie and his CDs again to4my own cancer experience?

    I'm an ambitious5, and when I started going through chemo(化疗), even though I'm a very6 person, I lost my drive to write. I was just too tired and not in the7. One day, while waiting to go in for8, I had one of Dr. Bernie's books in my hand. Another patient9what I was reading and struck up a conversation with me10 he had one of his books with him as well. It11that among other things, he was an eighty-year-old writer. He was 12a published author, and he was currently13on a new book.

    We would see each other at various times and14friends. Sometimes he wore a duck hat, and I would tell myself, he was definitely a(n) 15of Dr. Bernie. He really put a 16on my face. He unfortunately17 last year due to his cancer,18he left a deep impression on me and gave me the 19 to pick up my pen again. I20to myself, "If he can do it, then so can I."

    My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. He could not1 music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. I loved to sing, but I never learned how to 2 the mandolin. This is something I 3 to this day.

    Dad loved to play the mandolin for his 4 as he knew we enjoyed singing, and hearing him play. He was always there,5his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their life. I had to mature into a man and have children of my own 6 I realized how much he had sacrificed.7played the mandolin like my father. He could8your soul with the tones. He seemed to shine when he was playing. You could see his9 in his ability to play so well for his family.

    One day, he was involved in an 10.On this particular day, Dad got the first finger of his left hand 11 by the machine. The doctor who operated on the finger could not 12 it, which did affect his 13 to play the mandolin.

    After the accident, Dad felt that he could not play 14.When I came home and asked him to play, he would make15 for why he couldn't play.

In August of 1993 my father was diagnosed with16lung cancer. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for us. He said17.He knew it would probably be the last time he could play for us. When I looked around, there was not a18eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet man with an inner19 Dad was always doing something he had done all his life20.

    Years ago, when I was working as psychologist at a children's institution in England, a boy showed up in the waiting room. It was David.

    David's face was pale, and he started at his feet 1. He had lost his father as a baby and when David turned 13, his mother was killed in a car accident. He was very depressed, 2to talk to others.

    The first two times we met, David didn't say a word. As he was about to leave after the second visit, I put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrink back, 3he didn't look at me either.

    "Come back next week," I 4 a bit. Then I said, "I know it hurts."

    He came, and I 5 we play a game of chess. He nodded. After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon in complete6 and without making any eye 7. It's not easy to cheat in chess, but I admit that I made sure David 8 once or twice.

    It seemed as if he enjoyed my 9, though he never looked at me. Perhaps he 10 that I respected his suffering. Until some months later, suddenly, he looked up at me, "It's your11," he said. After that day, David started 12. Since then he really started to live his own life.

    Maybe I gave David 13. And David showed me how one – without any words – can 14 out to another person. All it takes is a hug, a 15to cry on, a friendly touch, a sympathetic nature and an ear that listens.

    I was born and brought up in Texas and I am a graduate of the University of Texas. However, around my second \rear in law school. I wanted to make a great 1, which was almost unheard of for Texans: I wanted to leave!

    I2this after completing my first year internship(实习期). I knew I wanted something 3and my chance came. A snowstorm blanketed the entire city and thousands of people were4. I overheard that StubHub, a big company from San Francisco, was giving a 5next door to my hotel. I thought if I could get an internship, I could 6the summer and at least see what it was like. Yes, it was a huge leap(巨变). I told myself I was7.

    There was just one problem: I wasn't 8to the StubHub party. But you know I'm the type of person who goes for something she 9. Needless to say, I 10 the party and found my way to the president. I 11 introduced myself and then asked if they had a 12 internship program. Guess what? They 13my request to be an intern, even though no such program 14.

    Although the legal department didn't have a15position for me, the experience has16my life. Working for a great company in San Francisco, I'm incredibly 17for making my decision to leave Texas.

    By leaving Texas, I learned that it is so much more18to try the unfamiliar than to stay in the 19. Exploring the unfamiliar is how you'll understand what 20 your life. I say, dive in head first.

I was ready for bed. My eyes fell on the musical 1 on my bedside table. In it was a photo of Dad smiling, and once opened, it would play his 2 song recorded before his death. It was propped(支，撑)open just enough so the recording wouldn't play.

Dad was a 3 man. He was always singing me his little made-up songs to share joy although he was 4 off-key, not hitting every note.

Dad was a man with big heart. When my house burned down a few years ago, Dad 5 my family into his home. When we tried to offer some 6, he said with his characteristic voice, "Don't be 7!"

With happy 8, I fell asleep.

"Beautiful and marvelous-!"

Suddenly, was awoken hours later by the 9 song. The card! I snapped it shut(啪的一声合上).

How did that card just start playing? I checked the windows, all tightly shut. But why couldn't I 10 the feeling that something was wrong?

I decided to 11 downstairs. Opening the door to the laundry room, I was hit with a strong smell of 12. The heat lamp had fallen, and the carpet was burning.

The 13 wasn't too bad. I let out a shaky breath with 14. What could have happened? Perhaps another house fire. . . But we were safe. All thanks to Dad's one-of-a-kind 15.