Patricia Blues, 29, has a new aim in life: to keep drivers' hands on their steering wheels and off their cell phones. On November 2, 2007, Blues lived through a horrible experience. A motorist dialing a cell phone drove through a stop sign at 45 miles per hour and ran into the side of Blues' car. Blues' 2-year-old daughter was killed immediately in the crash.

    Blues has since devoted her time top pushing for laws that would prevent this type of tragedy from happening again.

    Cell phones are not the only distractions（分神） that cause accidents. Eating, changing CDs, reading maps, talking to passengers, and just reaching for an object on the floor can be dangerous. Therefore, the emphasis should be on educating drivers to avoid all distractions. However, talking on cell phones might be easier to regulate than eating or changing music. At least 34 states have already passed laws to restrict cell phone use in moving cars. No state has banned it yet, but several US. cities. Worldwide, 13 nations, including Australia, England, Germany, Japan and China have banned drivers' use of cell phones in moving cars.

    To date, no scientific evidence has been published showing that talking on the phone affects driving safety. But according to a test by some high school students, “driving while on the phone does affect safety and probably shouldn't be done”.

    Liverpool, my hometown, is a special city. It is so unique that in 2004 it became a World Heritage（遗产）Site.

    I recently returned to my home city and my first stop was at a museum on the River Mersey. Blanketed in mist（薄雾），Victorian architecture rose from the banks of the river, responded to the sounds of sea-birds, and appeared unbelievably charming. When I headed toward the centre, I found myself surrounded by buildings that mirror the best palaces of Europe. It is not hard to imagine why, on first seeing the city, most visitors would be overpowered by the beauty of the noble buildings, which are solid signs of Liverpool's history.

    As if to stress its cultural role, Liverpool has more museums and galleries than most cities in Britain. At Walker Art Gallery, I was told that it has the best collections of Victorian paintings in the world, and is the home of modern art in the north of England. However, culture is more than galleries. Liverpool offers many music events. As Britain's No. 1 music city, it has the biggest city music festival in Europe, and its musicians are famous all over the world. Liverpool is also well-known for its football and other sports events. Every year, the Mersey River Festival attracts thousands of visitors, making the city a place of wonder.

    As you would expect from such a city, there are restaurants serving food from around the world. When my trip was about to complete, I chose to rest my legs in Liverpool's famous Philharmonic pub（酒馆）. It is a monument to perfection, and a heritage attraction itself.

    Being a World Heritage Site, my home city is certainly a place of “outstanding universal value”. It is a treasure house with plenty of secrets for the world to explore.

    For their nick-of-time acts, Toby, a 2-year-old dog, and Winnie, a cute cat, were named Dog and Cat of the Year by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

    As Amy Paul choked（哽住）on a piece of apple at her home, her dog jumped up, landing hard on her chest and forcing the piece in her throat out. When the Keesling family of Indiana was about to be killed by carbon monoxide, their cat, Winnie, clawed at the wife Cathy's hair until she woke up and called for help.

    No one could explain their timely heroics.

    Both pets were rescued by their owners in infancy—Toby as a 4-week-old thrown into a garbage bin to die, and Winnie as a week-old orphan hiding under a barn, so helpless that Cathy's husband, Eric, had to feed her milk with an eyedropper.

    As the Keeslings recalled it, a gas-driven pump being used broke down, spreading carbon monoxide through the house. By the time Winnie went to rescue, the couple's 14-year-old son was already unconscious. “Winnie jumped on the bed and was clawing at me, with a kind of angry sound,” Cathy Keesling said. The state police responding to her 911 call said the family was only minutes from death, judging by the amount of poisonous gas in the house.

    Both Toby and Winnie accompanied their owners to the awards luncheon.

    I had an old neighbor, a doctor named Gibbs. When Doctor Gibbs wasn't saving lives, he was planting trees. He had some interesting theories about planting trees. He hardly watered his new trees.

    Once I asked why and he told me that watering plants damaged them because it made them grow weaker. He said he had to make things difficult for the trees so that only the strongest could survive. He talked about how watering trees made them develop shallow roots and how, if they were not watered, trees would grow deep roots in search of water.

    So, instead of watering his trees every morning, he'd beat them with a rolled up newspaper. I asked him why he did that, and he said it was to get the trees' attention.

    Doctor Gibbs died a couple of years after I left home. Sometimes I walked by his house and looked at the trees I'd watched him plant 25 years ago. They were tall and strong.

    I planted several trees myself a few years ago. Two years of caring for these trees meant they grew up weakly. Whenever a cold wind blew, my trees trembled. Adversity seemed to benefit Doctor Gibb's trees in ways comfort and ease never could.

    Every night before I go to bed, I check on my two sons. I often pray that their lives will be easy. But lately I've been thinking that it's time to change my prayer. I know my children are going to experience difficulties. There's always a cold wind blowing somewhere. What we need to do is to pray for deep roots, so when the rains fall and the winds blow, we won't be torn apart.

    Kincaid looked at his watch: eight-seventeen. The truck started on the second try, and he backed out, shifted gears, and moved slowly down the alley under hazy sun. Through the streets of Bellingham he went, heading south on Washington 11, running along the coast of Puget Sound for a few miles, then following the highway as it swung east a little before meeting U.S Route 20.

    Turning into the sun, he began the long, winding drive through the Cascades. He liked this country and felt unpressed stopping now and then to make notes about interesting possibilities for future expeditions or to shoot what he called "memory snapshots." The purpose of these causal photographs was to remind him of places he might want to visit again and approach more seriously. In later afternoon he turned north at Spokane, picking up U.S. Route 2, which would take him halfway across the northern United States to Duluth, Minnesota.

    He wished for the thousandth time in his life that he had a dog, a golden retriever, maybe, for travels like this and to keep him company at home. But he was frequently away; overseas much of the time and it would not be fair to the animal. Still, he thought about it anyway. In a few years he would be getting too old for the hard fieldwork. "I must get a dog then." He said to himself.

    Drives like this always put him into a sentimental mood. The dog was part of it. Robert Kincaid was alone as it's possible to be—an only child, parents both dead, distant relatives who had lost track of him and he of them, no close friends.

    He thought about Marian. She had left him nine years ago after five years of marriage. He was fifty-two now, that would make her just under forty. Marian had dreams of becoming a musician, a folksinger. She knew all of the Weavers' songs and sang them pretty well in the coffeehouse of Seattle. When he was home in the old days, he drove her to the shows and sat in the audience while she sang.

    His long absences—two or three months sometimes—were hard on the marriage. He knew that. She was aware of what he did when they decided to get married, and both of them had a vague sense that it could all be handled somehow. It couldn't when he came from photographing a story in Iceland and she was gone. The note read, "Robert, it didn't work out. I left you the Harmony guitar. Stay in touch."

    He didn't stay in touch. Neither did she. He signed the divorce papers when they arrived a year later and caught a plane for Australia the next day. She had asked for nothing except her freedom.

    A nation's humor is linked to the historical development of the country. How funny somebody finds a certain thing depends on many things including ages, personal experiences, levels of education and locations. Therefore, humor is something that is not always transferable (可转移的) in another country.

    What about when both countries speak the same mother tongue? Does that mean they will then share the same sense of humor, or can differences still take place? Let's take the example of Britain and America. Time and time again, people say that Brits and Americans don't "get" each other's sense of humor. It is often argued that one of the most common differences between the British and American sense of humor is that Americans don't understand irony (反话). Simon Pegg explores this topic in depth in his article What Are You Laughing At? He concludes that this statement isn't true and I agree with him.

    In fact, Brits use irony on a daily basis while Americans don't. I think Americans understand British irony (most of the time anyway); what they don't understand is the need to use it so frequently. When Americans use irony, they tend to say that they are "only kidding". They feel the need to make a joke more obvious than Brits do. Maybe this comes from a fear of offending (冒犯) people.

    The American sense of humor is generally more slapstick (闹剧的) than that in Britain. I think this arises from a cultural difference between the two. Their jokes are more obvious and forward, a bit like Americans themselves. British jokes, on the other hand, tend to be more subtle. This may stem from the fact that British culture is more reserved (矜持的) than American culture.