The pickle jar (腌菜罐子) as far back as I can remember sat on the floor in my parents' bedroom. 1 he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and drop his 2 into the jar. When the jar was 3 , he would take the coins to the bank and say 4 to the cashier, "These are for my son's college fund (资金). He'll 5 work at the mill (磨坊) all his life like me. "

    The years passed, and I 6college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. My dad was a man of 7words, and never taught me the 8of determination, perseverance (毅力) and faith. The pickle jar had taught me more than 9could have done.

    When I married, I told my wife Susan about the 10. In my mind, it showed how much my dad had 11me. Dad continued to drop his coins into the jar, no matter how 12things got at home.

    The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Susan 13our baby into my parents' bedroom to feed her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was strange tears in her14. She handed Jessica to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room.

    "Look, "she said 15, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor. To my16, there, as if it had never been 17, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already 18 with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into 19 and pulled out a handful of coins. With the strong emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes 20, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.