A few years after Mom died, Dad handed me a plastic bag. That evening, I 1 the bag to find dozens of shells, each one2 in white tissue paper（纸巾）and having Mom's handwriting.

    The shells were pretty 3, but to Mom, they were evidence of her endlessly magical life and 4 me of the seashore trip with her. She was 61 when she 5 these shells, and already showing 6 of the lung disease. We knew something was 7 and Mom needed an adventure. She suggested a dinner and a movie. But two friends and I had bigger 8.

    Mom had been to the ocean only twice, but she 9 the seashore. Her kitchen was decorated（装饰） with souvenirs from those two trips. I told Mom that we would 10 for Jersey Shore. Mom was so 11 that she screamed and Amber, her dog was 12 to jump onto the floor.

    One of my favorite 13 on the road was a discussion about movies. Mom often got the titles wrong. “Ohhhh,” she said, “what was that movie about a teacher at the boys' school?” Before anyone could 14, she shouted, “The Dead Man's Poet!” I looked back and saw a back seat full of 15. “Mom,” I said. “You mean Dead poets Society?” “That's it!” Mom yelled. 16 filled the car.

    Once we got to Stone Harbor, she began to 17 the trip, greeting strangers and spending hours gathering shells. The morning we left, I found her photographing every inch of her bedroom. “I don't ever want to 18 this,” she said.

    For a long time, Mom's shells stayed 19 in a drawer. Last month, I 20 them again while searching for something else. I put them in a visible place as a reminder from a mother who never lost her sense of wonder.

    Some people are lucky enough to be born with a good sense of direction and even if they have only visited a place once, they will be able to find it again years later.

    I am one of those unfortunate people who have poor sense of direction and I may have visited a place time after time but I still get lost on my way there. When I was young I was so shy that I never dared ask complete strangers the way and so I used to wander round in circles and hope that by some chance I would get to the spot I was heading for.

    I am no longer too shy to ask people for direction, but I often receive replies that puzzle me. Often people do not like to admit that they didn't know their hometown and will insist on telling you the way, even if they do not know it; others, who are anxious to prove that they know their hometown very well, will give you a long list of directions which you can not possibly hope to remember, and still others do not seem to be able to tell between their left and their right and you find in the end that you are going in the opposite direction to that in which you should be going.

    If anyone ever asks me the way to somewhere, I always tell them I am a stranger to the town in order to avoid giving them wrong direction but even this can have embarrassing results.

    Once I was on my way to work when I was stopped by a man who asked me if I would direct him the way to the Sunlight Building. I gave my usual reply, but I had not walked on a few steps when I realized that he had asked for directions to my office building. However, at this point, I decide it was too late to turn back and search for him out of the crowd behind me as I was going to meet with someone at the office and I did not want to keep him waiting.

    Imagine my embarrassment when my secretary showed in the very man who had asked for directions of my office and his astonishment when he recognized me as the person he had asked.

    I often read of incidents of misunderstanding or conflict. I'm left1.Why do these people create mistrust and problems, especially with those from other2?

    I was growing up in Kuala Lumpur in the early 1960s,3children from different races and religions played and studied4in harmony. At that time my family lived a stone's5from Ismail's. And no one was bothered that Ismail was a Malay Muslim and I was an Indian Hindu-we just6our differences. Perhaps, our elders had not filled our heads with unnecessary advice, well7or otherwise.

    We were nine when we became friends. During the school holidays, we'd8the countryside on our bicycles, hoping to9the unexpected. At times Ismail would accompany my family as we made a rare shopping trip to town. We would be glad of his10.

    When I was twelve, my family moved to Johor. Ismail's family later returned to their village, and I11touch with him.

    One spring afternoon in 1983, I stopped a taxi in Kuala Lumpur. I12my destination. The driver acknowledged my13but did not move off. Instead, he looked14at me. “Raddar?”he said, using my childhood nickname(绰号). I was astonished at being so15addressed(称呼). Unexpectedly! It was Ismail! Even after two16we still recognized each other. Grasping his shoulder, I felt a true affection, something17to describe.

    If we can allow our children to be18without prejudice, they'll build friendships with people, regardless of race or religion, who will be19their side through thick and thin. On such friendships are societies build and20we can truly be, as William Shakespeare once wrote, “we happy few, we band of brothers”.

    One cool morning, my mother and I went to several garage sales  (宅前旧货出售) to find something that our family might want. We finally 1at a pleasant house in the woods. The elderly 2 told me that he and his wife were retired (退休的) teachers. As we were searching, I heard the gentleman's wife say her    3to someone, and I immediately  4 who she was. She looked at me and said. "You're Lisa Miller." I looked at her 5, for it had been nearly thirty  6since I had been in her class.

    My mother immediately said sorry to her for any 7I might have made. She did that again after learning that I wasn't the sweet little child. She thought that if this woman 8 me after so many years, I must have done something 9. My teacher looked at my mother and 10 said. "Oh, no. She was very good." My teacher 11 that during the last week of school, I 12 her a plant from my mother's garden. It was a lamb's ear. She took us to her garden where she planted the lamb's ear. Over the years it 13. As I looked down her driveway with lamb's ears on both sides, she said, "Every day when I leave my house and drive up the driveway, I think of you. And when I come home they 14 me, I think of you."  Tears  15 my eyes. There at her home was a piece of my life that she had raised.

At that moment, she taught me more about 16than I  could imagine. We give pieces of ourselves every day 17 thought. We seldom imagine the effects (影响) that we have  on others' lives. That piece may grow and spread, becoming a(n) 18 part of a life. In the end it isn't the big things that matter, 19 the small things that make all the 20 in the world.

    Charlotte Whitehead was born in England in 1843, and moved to Montreal, Canada at the age five with her family. While 1 her ill elder sister throughout the years, Charlotte discovered she had a(an) 2 in medicine. At 18 she married and 3a family. Several years later, Charlotte said she wanted to be a4. Her husband supported her decision.

    5, Canadian medical schools did not 6 women students at the time. Therefore, Charlotte went to the United States to study 7 at the Women's Medical College in Philadelphia. It took her five years to 8 her medical degree.

    Upon graduation, Charlotte 9to Montreal and set up a private 10. Three years later, she moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba, and there she was once again a 11 doctor. Many of her patients were from the nearby timber and railway camps. Charlotte 12 herself operating on damaged limbs and setting 13 bones, in addition to delivering all the babies in the area.

    But Charlotte had been practicing without a license. She had 14 a doctor's license in both Montreal and Winnipeg, but was 15.The Manitoba College of Physicians and Surgeons, an all-male board, wanted her to 16her studies at a Canadian medical college! Charlotte refused to 17 her patients to spend time studying what she already knew. So in 1887, she appealed to the Manitoba Legislature to 18 a license to her but they, too, rejected. Charlotte 19 to practice without a license until 1912. She died four years later at the age of 73.

    In 1993, 77 years after her 20 , a medical license was issued to Charlotte. This decision was made by the Manitoba Legislature to honor "this courageous and pioneering woman."

    Madison Williams was studying in her bedroom in August 2016 when the door burst open. It was her mother, Leigh Williams, with a horrific and 1 story: "A little boy fell into a septic tank (化粪池), and no one can reach him." Then she made a 2 : "Can you help?"

    Madison and Leigh ran to a neighbor's yard, 3 they found the boy's worried mother and other adults 4 a septic tank opening that was a few inches above the neatly trimmed lawn. The boy, who was only two years old, had 5the eight feet deep tank.

    Hearing the mother's6, the adults nearby rushed to help the frightened mum. Madison quickly 7 the situation. It was clear that she was the only one who could 8 through the small hole. Without 9, she told the adults, "Lower me in." Leigh and others held her 10. "I managed to get through the opening," Madison says. Inside, the dark tank was 11. In the process, she12his left arm so severely that the hand was almost useless. 13 tend to her injury, Madison scanned the 14of the water closely. Suddenly she saw the faint 15 of his foot again and shot her good hand out and grasped the foot 16. "Pull me up!" Both were lifted out of the tank, but because he had been 17 of oxygen long enough he couldn't 18. He was placed on his side, and an adult gave him several hard taps on the back, until the boy coughed up fluids.

    It took Madison longer than the boy to 19 in hospital. "Madison's a hero," her neighbor Holley said. "I wonder if there is any other girl who will 20 to go into a septic tank."