I learned to do wood work when I was very young. I remember I made my first project—a small table when I was 9 years old. I was so1of it that I looked upon it as if I had created a(an)2. It was absolutely beautiful and it had taken me six weeks to3it. I could hardly wait to give it to Mother Winters as a(an)4. She was the head mistress of our orphanage（孤儿院）, who was always kind but5with us.

    As the tables were not dry from the clear coating(清漆), our woodworking teacher told us to wait a few days before taking them to our dormitories. But I was just so6and happy that I couldn't wait. I dashed out like a7, carrying my table, smiling from ear to ear.

    When I reached the dormitory I placed the little table beside my bed. I was8it when Mother Winters entered. She walked over to the table. Running her hand9it, she noticed that it was still wet.

    “Were you 10to bring this home?” she asked.

    “No, ma'am,” I 11with my head down.

    She ordered me to throw the table out and so I did. After she left, I immediately opened the door to get it back. There was 12stuck all over. I brushed and cried, but the dirt would not come off.

    I hid the table in my closet and never 13it. However, a year later during a cleaning-up, it was discovered. Painfully, I had to give the table to Mother Henderson, my houseparent, thinking that she would 14it away.

    Thirty years later at a reunion, I15that Mother Henderson was living nearby, so I drove up to see her. We talked cheerfully for a long time. As I was about to leave, she asked me to come down to her 16to get something important. I followed her 17into a dark corner. She picked something up.18she turned around, I could see that she was holding a little table. Mother Henderson kept the little table that I had given up for lost so long ago.

    Today, I look at that table with bittersweet memories but full of 19to Mother Henderson, who kept the table for a young orphan who20it so much.

    Robby was 11 when he took his first piano lesson. I1students begin at an earlier age,2I explained to Robby. Robby said it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student.

Much3Robby tried, he4the sense of tone and basic rhythm. But be dutifully reviewed his lessons.

    Over the months he tried and tried, and he'd always say, “My mom's going to hear me play someday. ”But it seemed5 He just did not have any inborn ability.

    Then one day Robby stopped coming. I was glad, as he was a bad6for my teaching!I7he had decided to pursue something else.

    Several weeks later, my students were to have a recital（演奏会）. To my surprise, Robby came, asking to play in the recital.

     “It is for8pupils, but you dropped.

     “My mom was sick. But I have been practicing. I've just got to play!” he insisted and I agreed.

    The night for the recital came. I put Robby up last in the program9I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought I could save his poor performance through my "curtain closer".

    The recital10well. Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked dirty. “How could his Mom?”I thought.

    Robby began and it was Mozart's work. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers even11on the keys. After six and a half minutes he ended and people were all on their feet in wild12

    13and in tears I ran up and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard you play like that, Robby! How did you do it?"

    Through the microphone Robby explained :"Well , Miss Hondorf, remember I told you my mom was sick? Well.14she had cancer and15this morning. And well. . . She was born deaf, so tonight was the16time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it17"

    There wasn't a18eye that evening. I thought to myself how much19my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. However, he was the teacher, for it is he that showed me the meaning of20and love and believing in oneself.

    I was confused while I was eating lunch in a restaurant the other day. I was sitting there looking at what I'd1and wondered if anyone else could see the2in my mind. I'm about to 3a lot of fat and wash it down with a diet soda.

    What can I say? I'm trying to lose some weight.4I do things like that all the time, which is probably why the pounds are 5so slowly. I spent half an hour on the treadmill (跑步机) and I6myself with potato chips. I7that I will no longer eat them again, so I just eat a lot at this time. I make it all the way through the entire day doing everything absolutely right, and then at bedtime, “just one chip won't8it “turns into “where did that entire bag of potato chips go?”

    Of course, I9do well with my weight loss program, Once I put together two full weeks of eating properly and exercising10I was starting to feel a (an)11I could bend over to tie my shoes more easily. But just as it was about to become a12I entered a period of long, late nights filled with13deadlines. I sat in front of my computer, eating snacks and drinking sodas to help me stay14Within a few days, the habit of a sensible eating and exercising was a15.

Unfortunate but16I was too tired to get on the treadmill.17I had work to do, for which I needed all the energy I could 18 So I started skipping exercise sessions. And 19I started doing so, it became easier to skip them.

    There are always reasons not to do the things that we really should do. Every reason is just another 20.

    Last year I broke the record for the oldest person in the world to ride a rollercoaster. I'm 105, but the doctor agrees I'm in good 1

    The rollercoaster I rode 2 you round quite fast. It was, however, a bit too 3for me. I'd have preferred a really fast one that went upside down. But I was told I couldn't ride it, because my blood pressure could drop and I might have 4

    I wasn't nervous. I was securely 5 in, so I knew I wouldn't fall out. The rollercoaster ride went on for three or four minutes, and I 6 every second. Later, someone came to 7 me with the Guinness World Records Certificate.

    My 8 ways really began a couple of years ago, with the ice-bucket challenge. My great-granddaughter recommended me to have a bucket of 9 water poured on my head. I was 102 then. It 10 that I was the oldest person in the world to do it, and the video clip of me was very 11 After that, I started to think about what else I could do for different 12My family say I'm crazy, but they always go along with me. I do get people 13I take it easy, but I'm not taking any14.

    If someone now broke my world record, I'd say, “Good luck to you.” But the real15 is not what I've done; it's how hard I've always worked. I'm taking it easy now, so I have found a new challenge. I was suspended on a rope from a crane about 25 feet high and 16myself down. It was fun.

    I've got a few ideas for the next charity challenge on my 106th birthday, but nothing has been 17yet. All I can say is that it will be 18 good, if not better than the rollercoaster.

    I'm not sure if anyone is19 of all the fun I'm having. They just say I'm silly and that's about it. On 20I've had many good days. I've had a really good life.

    When I was young, my mother could not even 1 a 50-cent chocolate bar for me. However, instead of focusing on poorness, my mother selflessly 2 me to fight for success so that I could lead a 3 life. She worked long hours every night to support the family. 4, she would find time to 5 with my sister, Emily, and me. Although I did not have two parents, I was loved and 6 just as much.

    Not all of life's milestones were easy. Some even left a 7 taste when my mother married a man in Maryland. The first few months were 8: baseball games dinners together and movies. It felt like we were the 9 All-American family. Then things 10. Screaming matches between my stepfather and my mother ruined dinners, and he 11 movie tickets for wine.

    We spent five years living in a family setting that had turned into a 12 zone. To our great relief, they finally 13 and we settled in Texas, where Mom is still working hard for a better life. Now, as I write this article with some dark 14 at hand, I realize my family and I are at the 15 point of our lives. I have succeeded both in my 16 and personality. I have been 17 my hunger for knowledge and I am to 18 from high school, not making a bitter product of my 19, for I know that hard times in life are also learning experiences. 20, like candy, can be the sweetest treat of all.

    My father was a self-taught mandolin（曼陀林琴）player. He could not read, but if he heard a tune several times, he could play it. Occasionally, he 1 play for the local radio station.

    Dad loved playing the mandolin for his family. He knew we enjoyed his playing. If he could give 2 to others, he would, especially for his family. He was always 3 his time and efforts to making sure his family had enough in their life.

    Later, I matured into a man and had my own children. Whenever coming home, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin, for nobody played the mandolin like him. He could 4 your soul with tunes coming out of that old mandolin. He seemed to 5 when playing, taking pride in his ability to play so well.

    Unfortunately, in 1977. Dad was 6 in an accident, leaving his third finger of his left hand wounded seriously. 7 he didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, it did affect his 8 to play the mandolin. After the accident, he was 9 to play and felt unable to play as well as before. Every time we asked him to play, he would make excuses. 10, we could persuade him and he would say "Okay. But I can't hold down on the strings and play as well as before." For the family it made no 11. When he played the old mandolin, it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time.

    In August 1993, Dad was 12 with serious disease. He chose not to receive any chemotherapy(化疗)treatments 13 he could live out his rest life in dignity(尊严). A week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for his family. First he made the usual 14 again but later said "Okay.", 15 it was likely to be the last chance for us to hear him playing. He tuned up the old mandolin and played. 16, I found everyone in the family 17. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner 18 that lives with him in his life.

    Dad would never play the mandolin for us again, but we still 19 the most valuable gift we gained from him, 20 he had done all his life, giving.