Eating the Cookie

    One of my patients, a successful businessman, tells me that before his cancer he would become depressed unless things went a certain way1was “having the cookie”. If you had the cookie, things were good. If you didn't have the cookie, life was 2.

    Unfortunately, the cookie kept3.Some of the time it was money, and sometimes power. At4time, it was the new car, the biggest contract. A year and a half after his diagnosis(诊断) of prostate cancer, he sits5his head regretfully. “It seems that I stopped learning how to6 after I was a kid. When I give my son a cookie, he is happy. If I take the cookie away or it7he is unhappy. But he is two and a half and I am forty three. It's taken me this long to understand that the8 will never make me happy for long.

    The9you have the cookie it starts to fall to pieces or you start to 10about it crumbling (弄碎) or about someone trying to take it away from you. You know, you have to11a lot of things to take care of the cookie, to keep it from crumbling and be12that no one takes it away from you. You may not even get a chance to eat it13 you are so busy just trying not to lose it14 the cookie is not what life is about.”

    My patient laughs and says15has changed him. For the first time he is16.No matter if his17is doing well or not, no matter if he wins or loses at golf. “Two years ago, cancer18me, 'What is really important?' Well, life is important. Live any way you can have it, life with the cookie, life without the cookie. Happiness does not have anything to19with the cookie: it has to do with being 20.

    As a child, I started learning to play the piano, my favorite musical 1 but I was forced to give up when I started my middle school2 I could concentrate more on my studies.

It's one of my biggest3 to stop practicing the piano when I recall sadly today. During the following years, I kept telling my piano teacher that I would4However, I didn't keep my promise because I was 5 with my study6 I lost touch with my teacher. Some years later, my teacher died. I was very sad because I lost such a good teacher. She was a very warm and gentle person. It hurts me to think she may have been 7 that I never returned. I haven't taken lessons since then but to be honest, I 8 to. Sitting at the piano, I couldn't help recalling many 9 —times of my practising at home and playing before my teacher and one time my teacher 10 me after I played entire pieces of music wrong in front of her colleagues. I was so 11 that I could hardly say anything. But her 12helped ease my shame. These memories13good or bad, never caused my14 for playing the piano again.

    This thought then led me to think that 15 is like music, and that we all try to play different 16 in the instrument of our life. Sometimes the pitch (音高) is17when we play it well, but sometimes we are out of tone. However, we all continue to create our own 18style of music. No matter what style our music is, it is 19 that we sing the songs of joy, quietness and love. Though I may never make it back to piano lessons, it doesn't 20 that I've stopped making music.

    A young and successful executive was traveling down a street, going a bit too fast in his new car. He was1for kids rushing out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something.

    2his car passed, a brick3the car's side door. He pressed hard the4and drove the car back to the5 from where the brick had been thrown.

    He jumped out of the car,6a kid and pushed him up7a parked car, shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the hell are you doing?"8more and more angry, he went on "That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to9a lot of money. Why did you do it?" "Please, mister, please, I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do!" 10the youngster. "It's my brother," he said." He fell out of his wheelchair and I can't11him up". Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."

    12beyond words, the driver tried to13the rapidly swelling lump(块)in his throat. He14the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his15and wiped the scrapes(擦伤)and cuts,16to see that everything was going to be okay.

    "Thank you, sir. And God bless you," the17child said to him. The man then watched the little boy18his brother to the sidewalk toward their home.

    It was along slow walk back to his car. He never did19the side door. He kept the dent(凹痕)to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your20.

    It was a cold, rainy day, and I had no desire to drive up for two hours along the winding mountain road to my daughter Carolyn's house. But she had1that I come to see something at the top of the mountain. So here I was, 2making the two-hour journey through the thick fog. Nothing could be worth this, I thought as I inched along the 3 highway.

    "I'll stay for lunch, but I'm 4back home straight after that," I announced when I arrived.

    "But I need you to drive me to the garage to5my car," Carolyn said. "Could we6 do that?"

    Turning down a narrow track, we parked the car and got out. To my7, the views before my eyes were 8 words.

    From the 9 of the mountain, sloping for several acres across valleys, were rivers of flowers in bloom. A mass of 10 —from the palest ivory to the deepest lemon and then to the most vivid pink—shone like a carpet before us. It looked 11 the sun had spilled gold down the mountainside.

    A series of questions 12 my mind. Who13 such beauty? When? How?

    As we approached the house that14 in the center of the land, we saw a sign that 15: "Answers to the Questions; I Know You Are 16."

    The first answer was: "One Woman—Two Hands, Two Feet, and Very Little Brain." The second was: "One at a Time." The third: "17 in 1958."

    As we drove home, I was so moved by what we had seen. The18of it would not let me go. "Imagine," I said, "if I'd had a vision and worked at it, just a little bit every day, what might I have 19?"

    Carolyn looked at me, smiling. "Start tomorrow," she said. "20 yet, start today."

    For many, just taking part in a single marathon is the achievement of a lifetime. But for Julie Weiss, it has become a1routine. She has run 12 marathons once a week-for the past year in memory of her dad who2just 35 days after he was3with pancreatic cancer(胰腺癌). When Julie Weiss lost her father in 2010, she was4to find the research for pancreatic cancer is so short of fund. "It made me feel5" she said, "I knew I had to do something."

    So this marathon queen, 6she calls herself, did what she did best; she went running. Having completed 25 marathons during the7two years, Julie now vowed(发誓) to run 12 marathons in 12 weeks in8of her father. After asking people to9money for each marathon, she10a website, marathon goddess, com, to collect money for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network(PANCAN), a nonprofit organization. Julie began her incredible11with a marathon is Rome and then entered a race every12in some city across North America.13leaving work at 5p.m.on Friday she would be ready to begin the next race, before she14home to California on Sunday. Julie finished her 1,362.4-mile journey in March 2013, 15more than $ 200,000 in the process for PANCAN.

    While running, she stuck to a strict training schedule. "My body's getting used to this. I'm changing my diet, becoming more healthy and learning to run more16" she said. When her muscles began to17, she kept her18in mind. "When you do what you love, for those you love, that is where the19happen. Together we can make a(n)20, and pave the way for a happy, healthy, cancer free life." she said.

    My father was a Jamaican(牙买加) immigrant while my mother was a white woman. They never got married but I was born. However, my father never1his family about my existence. Whatever the case, I didn't know I was a2until my thirteenth birthday.

    Walking into my aunt's apartment brought a lot of emotions. What if my3didn't want anything to do with me because I was half white? How4can I learn the jokes that my family members told? Should I5them for all the years they didn't spend with me? My mind was full of thoughts when I was6to everyone, trying desperately to understand family members who almost were7strangers. Meanwhile, I was8to just remember everybody's name.

    One of my aunts, who'd been quiet for most of the morning looked at me with tearful eyes. She mentioned how9she was for my father to have a daughter, saying, "He's always dreamt of having a daughter". However, she then expressed her10towards my father for keeping the family in the11about me. From this12, I have learned more about what it means to be biracial (代表两种人种的). Can I still13myself Jamaican even though my first time trying curry goat, a traditional dish, was not until my teenage years?

    I've become aware that no matter how much DNA you might14with a particular race, you won't feel truly connected if you did not15with that culture's customs. I believe this event has16me into becoming a more understanding person when analyzing someone's actions. I have realized that I am far from a17. I am determined to prove that I'm here for a reason by using my talents to18those around me. I have grown to not19on my parents and families to tell me who I am, but I have understood my uniqueness and20my real self. I really feel proud that among strangers I eventually know who I am!