It's said that you don't know a man until you walk a mile in his shoes. And you also don't know what it's like for older people to travel until you accompany one on a trip.

    After flying with my elderly father from Washington, D.C. to L.A. in July, I began to realize that a companion has important tasks that can make a journey easier for older people. I booked nonstop tickets on JetBlue to avoid tiring, confusing connections, and we flew directly into small, manageable Long Beach Airport. Even though my father could walk, I arranged with the airline for wheelchair assistance, which meant we got on board first.

    When I took him back to the airport for his return flight to Washington, I got permission from JetBlue to wait with him at the gate instead of saying goodbye at the security checkpoint. I wished he'd had a first-class seat and access to a comfortable airline club. Better yet, I wish I had flown with him both ways. As I watched the attendant wheel him to the lift that took him from the tarmac（飞机跑道）to the plane, I felt like an anxious mom sending her child to school for the first time.

    Things can go awry on a plane trip. And then there is the horrifying story about Joe and Margie. When they landed at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, a wheelchair attendant met them to help with a connection. But somehow Margie, who had Alzheimer's disease, disappeared.

    I didn't need to worry about my father wandering away; at 82, his mind was sharper than mine. But his hearing was poor, so I worried about what would happen if he missed an important announcement. Fortunately, everything went just fine. Careful planning made the trip successful.

    Next time I travel with a senior, I'll know better. I hope there will be a next time.

    When my sister Mertie told me she had put out tomato plants last summer, I was quite impressed.

    Since she was a garden-beginner, Mertie researched exactly how far apart to space her tomato plants; what kind of fertilizer to use; how to keep away the bugs, etc. Once they were planted, she took care of them daily, anxiously awaiting the juicy tomatoes to appear. But, day after day, her plants were tomato-less while all of her neighbors who had also put out tomato plants were already enjoying the fruit of their labor.

    Frustrated, Mertie gave in and went to the market to search fresh tomatoes. While paying, Mertie told the farmer her troubles. The farmer paused to think for a moment and then asked, "Well, what kind of tomatoes did you plant?"

    "I think they were called Big Boy," Mertie remembered.

    "Well there's your problem," the farmer explained. "Big Boy and Better Boy tomatoes have a 95-day growing period whereas regular tomato plants produce fruit in as few as 70 days…you just have to wait a little longer for the Big Boys."

    With that new knowledge, Mertie went home with excitement, knowing they would be worth the wait.

    Thinking about my sister's gardening experience, I had to smile. She just didn't know that Big Boy tomatoes took longer--neither did I — but once she discovered that information, she was no longer discouraged and upset about the lack of tomatoes on her plants. Instead, she was encouraged and excited to see them a few weeks later.

    It makes me wonder how many of us have "Big Boy" dreams in our hearts, yet we just don't realize that they are of the "Big Boy" variety so we are discouraged and worn out with the waiting process. Instead of waiting with excitement, we give up on our dreams and figure we must have done something wrong to stop them from coming to pass. Frustrated, we see other people's dreams coming true, and we wonder why ours haven't yet been achieved.

    I have a neighbor who is a capable, fashionable, seventy-year-old, single woman. Her name is Grace. Grace was laid off from her job a little over two years ago and has been living off her savings ever since but not officially "retired". Grace called me up one day about this time last year and asked if I had a ladder. She needed to clean out her gutters (水槽) on the roof and wanted me to hold the ladder.

    She didn't want me to climb up and clean the gutters. She just wanted me to hold the ladder. As it happened I did have a ladder. I said: “The leaves are going to fall off the trees in a month, why don't we wait till they finish and do it then?” She agreed and naturally we didn't talk about it again until spring. Spring in Tennessee is wild and we talked about it over the course of three weeks in which it rained nearly every day, then I got busy and Grace went into seclusion (隐居).

    A couple of weeks ago, she told me she'd been spending too much money and decided to apply for a bar tending job at a local hotel. "Now I don't know about you all but I'd never considered what it would be like to apply for and begin a new job at the age of seventy. I'm fifty-three and the older I get, the more I think about how great it'll be if I can just get out of bed when I'm seventy." Anyway, she got the job, serving the bar and tending banquets at the hotel.

    The day when she left for her training at 6 am, I walked across the street with my ladder and cleaned out her gutters.

    Charlie is a teacher and his wife, Maria is an artist. The night before last, just before the longest day of the year, Charlie was sitting in a deckchair enjoying the warm summer air when Maria touched his shoulder and he could tell immediately she was a little worried about something. He asked her what the matter was and she replied that there was a strange thing on the jacket that was hanging in the bedroom. They had both lived in the West Indies (西印度群岛) and had seen a lot of strange creatures in their house before. But now they were living in England and so Charlie just laughed and said he would have a look at the “thing”.

    He walked to the bedroom. He saw a jacket hanging in the bedroom and went up to it to have a closer look at the “thing”. The moment he touched it, the thing sprang into life. Now Charlie experiences fear like the rest of us but when this creature opened its wings, he jumped out of his skin and ran screaming from the room like a small child doing about 100 miles an hour.

    For a moment the next-door neighbours thought that Charlie was murdering his wife because of the noise they could hear. In fact, it was a bat that frightened Charlie.

Eventually Charlie managed to trap the bat in a box and took it to the garden to let the bat fly. Maria, who had been playing the guitar while Charlie was upstairs, asked Charlie if he had found out what the thing was. “Oh, nothing to worry about”, he said casually hoping that the terror could not be seen in his eyes, “it was just a bat.”

    From: terri wombat. Com. Au

    To: (happylizijun) yaboo. com. cn

    Subject: My school

    Hi, Li Zijun,

    Thanks very much for your email. I really enjoyed reading it. I think we have a lot in common. I wonder if our school life is similar too.

    I go to a big high school in Sydney called Maylands High School. There are about 1000 students and 80 or so teachers. My class has 25 students in it, which is normal for a Year 11 class. In the junior school there are about 30 students in a class.

    In the senior high school we have lots of subjects to choose from, like maths, physics, chemistry, biology, history, German, law, geography, software design, graphic arts and media studies. (Different schools sometime have different optional subjects.) English is a must for everyone and we have to do least three other subjects in Year 11 and 12. At the end of Year 12 we sit for a public exam called the High School Certificate.

    As well as school subjects, most of us do other activities at school such as playing a sport, singing in the choir or playing in the school band. We can also belong to clubs, such as the drama club, the chess club and the debating society.

    We have a lot of homework to do in senior school to prepare for our exam, so unless I have basketball practice, I usually go straight home and start studying. I arrive home about 4 pm, make myself a snack and work till 6. Then I help the family to make dinner and we all eat together. I'm usually back in my room studying by 8 pm. I stop at about 10 o'clock and watch TV or read a book for half an hour to relax. On Saturdays, I usually go out with my family or with friends and I sleep in till late on Sunday morning. Then it's back to the books on Sunday afternoon.

    How about you? What's your school life like? Do you have a lot of homework? What do you do to relax when you're not studying? I'm looking forward to finding out.

Your Australian friend

Terrie

The text from my son said it all: "Dad, there's an article you were born to write that the world is finally ready for: Bring Back the Handkerchief!" As my son knows, there's no "bring back" for me. For me, the handkerchief never left. 

My mother raised me with several fixed rules. One was that a gentleman always has a clean handkerchief in his right rear pocket, a piece of simple cotton, roughly 15 inches square and less than four inches when folded. I was a dutiful son, but as a child, I had been wondering what it was there for. After 60 years, my body weight now feels wrong if I'm heading out of the house with an empty back pocket. 

I am sure this habit has sometimes struck friends but in polite company nobody comments on somebody else's business. Children like my kids think of my hankie ridiculously old-fashioned and they have their arguments. If you have to be prepared every day for allergies or a cold, why not choose a little packet of tissues, which saves you from that disgusting business of blowing your nose in the thing and then stuffing it back in your pants?

Point taken. But a handkerchief is more durable and has a far wider variety of uses. Can you grab the handle of a pot that's boiling over with a Kleenex? Or do you recall the cases of skinned knees and drippy noses that hankie wiped? In fact, my wife gave me several new handkerchiefs as gifts. Neither of us can count the number of times her eyes have welled up at a movie, or, as happens, she's needed to blow her nose. 

Yet not even my mother could have anticipated the hankie's new role as an Essential Public Health Appliance. All of us have learnt how hard it is to follow advice from medical experts about not touching your face. Here is an answer. Use your hankie. In case of emergency, your handkerchief can become a makeshift DIY mask that can be pulled over your lower face like a robber entering a bank. 

And it will certainly give me the chance to lift my chin and look at my adult children through one eye, asking in her good-hearted way, "What do you have to say now, smarty-pants?"