When Charles Lee handed me the small red notebook in 1974, he changed my life. “While you are traveling, you should keep notes of things you see and do,” he explained.

    I was 20 years old, a junior in college, spending a term at the University of London. Charles was a retired traveling salesman. I was staying with him in his cottage in Kendal, located in the Lake District of northern England. It was a one-week homestay the university arranged for us before classes began.

    I took his advice. I wrote in the notebook every day during the homestay. Back in London, I recorded weekend trips to Wales, Yorkshire, France, and Spain. I commented on my classes, professors, and classmates. I contrasted my life at a small college in the US with my wandering through the streets of London, my introduction to life in a big city, and my initial travels outside the US. I tracked ideas I had about my life and my future.

    When I wrote in the notebook, I struggled with a sense of my audience and purpose. Who would read this? Were these writings just for me, or did I want others to read them? Was I recording events and ideas just as a prompt(提示) to memory, or was there some larger purpose for this daily exercise?

    I knew I was recording events, thoughts, words that were important to my life. I imagined a future me sitting down to read the pages. I wondered what it would feel like to read those words later. I wondered where I would be and what my life would be like.

    I filled the notebook Charles gave me. I bought a new one and filled it. Then another and another. I continued writing in notebooks for four decades. By that time, they filled two boxes in my garage.

    I had reread some of the journals. Specific volumes had provided me with the background I needed for dozens of articles for magazines. But I had never read them all. Recently, I decided to bring my collection of notebooks into my office and replay my life. As I opened the first box, I suddenly became nervous would I like the former me described on those pages? There was a risk in opening that first notebook. I did it anyway.

    Charles had been right. I remembered the big events and the central happenings, but on each page were many details I hadn't retained(保留).

    The pages revealed highlights from college classes and stories about roommates and friends. I read anxious comments I'd written as I'd launched my teaching career, learned to write lesson plants, assigned grades for student work, and solved discipline problems. I reflected on my coming marriage, then the wedding, and eventually the proud moments when I held each of my three girls as a father. I recounted more trips—returning to Europe, teaching in South America, going on safari(游猎) in Africa, and exploring Greenland. I relived memories of trails hit, rivers crossed, and mountains climbed.

    The writings in those journals framed my life. I hadn't written every day. I often skipped a few days or even weeks, but I always picked up the writing when it felt important. Journals went with me when I traveled, and I often wrote in them at school when my own students were writing.

    It took several long evenings to read through the notebooks, taking me on tour spanning(持续) 42 years. As I read I could recall sitting on a bench in Trafalgar Square in London or in our apartment in Peru to write to the future me. It was then that I realized: I am now the person I was writing to throughout those years.

Creative Writing Summer School

2-15 August 2015

Study at one of the world's leading universities

About the Creative Writing Summer School

    This programme is for those wishing to develop their existing creative writing skills, either for eventual professional use, or out of personal interest.Workshop courses take place twice a day.In a series of plenary(全体出席的)lectures (each morning, and on some evenings), novelists, poets and writers of creative non-fiction discuss their own work and the art of writing.Plenary lectures are designed to expand students' understanding of their own creative options.Students will expected to complete daily writing tasks outside classroom hours; the resulting work will form the primary focus of the workshops.

What will I be studying?

    Workshop courses focus on practical writing skills and critical reflection; there are specialist options in fiction; creative non-fiction and poetry, and writing for stage and screen, as well as a more broadly-based writing course.

Who can apply?

    The programme is open to university students, literature teachers, professionals and those with other life experience; gap-year students preparing for university may also apply (students must be accompanied by a parent/ guardian if under 18 when the programme starts).Participants must also meet the language requirements specific to this programme and will be asked to provide a 300-400 word piece explaining their reasons for applying.

Who will be teaching me?

    Courses are taught by a combination of published writers associated with the School of Continuing Education, Peking University and by guest subject specialists from beyond the university.

Where will I stay?

    Participants can stay in the School of Continuing Education, Peking University, close to the teaching sites and city Coventry.

How do I apply?

    You can download an application form or apply online.

    Find out more: www.sce.pku.edu.cn

    Until late in the 20th century, most Americans spent time with people of generations. Now mid-aged Americans may not keep in touch with old people until they are old themselves. That's because we group people by age. We put our three-year-olds together in day-care center, our 13-year-olds in school and sports activities, and our 80-year-olds in senior-citizen homes. Why?

    We live away from the old for many reasons: young people sometimes avoid the old to get rid of fears for aging and dying. It is much harder to watch someone we love disappear before our eyes. Sometimes it's so hard that we stay away from the people who need us most.

    Fortunately, some of us have found our way to the old. And we have discovered that they often save the young.

    A reporter moved her family onto a block filled with old people. At first her children were disappointed. But the reporter baked banana bread for the neighbors and had her children deliver it and visit them. Soon the children had many new friends, with whom they shared food, stories and projects. “My children have never been less lonely,” the reporter said.

    The young, in turn, save the old. Once I was in a rest home when a visitor showed up with a baby. She was immediately surrounded. People who hadn't gotten out of bed in a week suddenly were ringing for a wheelchair. Even those who had seemed asleep wake up to watch the child. Babies have an astonishing power to comfort and cure.

    Grandparents are a special case. They give grandchildren a feeling of security and continuity. As my husband put it, “my grandparents gave me a deep sense that things would turn out right in the end.”

    Grandchildren speak of attention they don't get from worried parents. “My parents were always telling me to hurry up, and my grandparents told me to slow down,” one friend said. A teacher told me she can tell which pupils have relationships with grandparents: they are quieter, calmer, more trusting.

    A lot of kids have dreams they will never achieve due to the limitations of their little bodies. They want to fly, or to become a dinosaur, or to learn how to shoot webs out of their fingers like Spiderman.

    Luka Tavcar, 12, has muscular dystrophy(萎缩) and is totally dependent on his wheelchair. Nevertheless, late last year, he had an inspired plan: to be photographed walking around and having fun.

    He approached Matej Peljhan, an amateur photographer and a psychologist at CIRIUS rehabilitation(康复) center near Ljubljana, Slovenia, where Luka is a patient.

    At first, Peljhan was perplexed. How could he photograph a boy who can not move or act in motion? "Luka wanted to see himself playing and having fun, but it seemed impossible," he says.

    Then Peljhan had a brainstorm: Luka could lie down on a piece of cloth and, with the help of an assistant, Peljhan would pose the boy as if he were jumping, climbing stairs, moving downhill on a skateboard, and playing basketball. Then Peljhan would shoot these images from above. The photos took about a month to produce; all were shot early this year.

    Peljhan, who lost his right arm and left eye as a child, says his disabilities motivated him to make the photographs. "I understand people with limitations," he says.

    He named the series the little Prince after the French story by Antoine de Saint-Exupery in which a boy teaches a man about trust, hope and friendship. Luka loves the photos.

    Peljhan himself understands what it is like to live with limitations- he lost his right arm and left eye as a child. "He wants to stay positive," the photographer explains. "Luka's imagination helps him forget his phisical limitation", says Peljhan. "He's fragile, but he can see the world differently."

    Tess was eight years old. Her little brother Andrew was very sick and their parents were completely out of money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother, "Only a miracle can save him now."

    Tess took her money and made her way six blocks to Rexall's Drug Store.

    "And what do you want?" the chemist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen for ages."

    "Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really sick. He has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

    "We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the chemist said, softening a little.

    "Listen, I can help you." The chemist's brother was a well-dressed man. He asked Tess, "What kind of miracle does your brother need?"

    "I don't know," Tess replied. "Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

    "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago. "One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more, if I need to."

    "Well, what a coincidence (巧合)," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents － the exact price of a miracle for your little brother. Take me to where you live. Let's see if 1 have the kind of miracle you need."

    That man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon in neurosurgery (神经外科). The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well．

    Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost… one dollar and eleven cents… plus the faith of a little child.

    Nelson Mandela is respected and admired around the world. And to South Africans he is a superstar. He is a hero who shocked the world by fighting for peace between races, despite the 27 years he spent in the prison of the South Africa's white, racist regime (种族主义政权).

    Mandela who won the nation's first all-race elections after the fall of apartheid (种族隔离) in 1994, retired in 1999. But he remains as popular as ever. His popularity has inspired an entire national industry. His portrait (肖像) has appeared at many places, including on some goods. His face has appeared on a South African coin, and some business leaders hope to build a statue in his likeness—the Statue of Freedom. It would stand taller than New York's Statue of Liberty.

    “His popularity is similar to that of John F. Kennedy with US or Winston Churchill in Britain, but few politicians in his times have achieved his level of admiration,” said Tom Lodge, head of the political science department of the University of the Witwatersrand, “What a skilled performer Mandela has been throughout his political career! He's a very, very clever man.”

    However, he is far from perfect. Most articles for his birthday, which appeared in every major South African newspaper on the day, briefly mentioned that Mandela did have his shortcomings.

    Then they returned to their flowing praises. “Through the ages, the human race has had its icons (偶像)—men and women who rose above ordinary people to inspire their generations,” The Mail and Guardian Weekly said. “In our generation, the gods presented us Nelson Mandela.”