All she knew

Tess was a precocious eight-year-old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn’t have the money for the doctor’s bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, “Only a miracle can save him now.”

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be absolutely exact. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way six blocks to the pharmacy with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good.

bitterness or complaint

Our usual walk was to or from the subway, which was how he got to work. He went to work sick, and despite nasty weather. He almost never missed a day, and would make it to the office even if others could not. A matter of pride.

When snow or ice was on the ground, it was impossible for him to walk, even with help. At such times my sisters or I would pull him through the streets of Brooklyn, NY, on a child's sleigh to the sub­way entrance. Once there, he would cling to the handrail until he reached the lower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept ice-free. In Manhattan the subway station was the basement of his office building, and he would not have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn' on his way home.

When I think of it now, I marvel at how much courage it must have taken for a grown man to subject himself to such indignity and stress. And at how he did it —— without bitterness or complaint .

check and head home

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.

"I'm young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

four children

I had four children at the time, and the oldest was only four. While the children napped, I typed on my ancient typewriter. I wrote what I felt. It took nine months, just like a baby. I chose a publisher at random and put the manuscript in an empty Pampers diapers package, the only box I could find. I’d never heard of manuscript boxes. The letter I enclosed read, “I wrote this book myself, I hope you like it. I also do the illustrations. Chapter six and twelve are my favourites. Thank you.” I tied a string around the diaper box and mailed it without a self addressed stamped envelope and without making a copy of the manuscript.

A month later I received a contract, an advance on royalties, and a request to start working on another book. Crying Wind, the title of my book, became a best seller, was translated into fifteen languages and Braille and sold worldwide. I appeared on TV talk shows during the day and changed diapers at night. I traveled from New York to California and Canada on promotional tours. My first book also became required reading in native American schools in Canada.

The pharmacist’s brother

The pharmacist’s brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does your brother need?”

“I don’t know,” Tess replied with her eyes welling up. “I just know he’s really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can’t pay for it, so I want to use my money.”

“How much do you have?” asked the man from Chicago. “One dollar and eleven cents,” Tess answered barely audibly. “And it’s all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.”

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man. “A dollar and eleven cents – the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.”

some things

Nobody did. But the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.

I now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. When I played ball (poorly), he "played" too. When I joined the Navy he "joined" too. And when I came home on leave, he saw to it that " I visited his office. Introducing me, he was really saying, "This is my son, but it is also me, and I could have done this, too, if things had been different." Those words were never said aloud.

He has been gone many years now, but I think of him often. I wonder if he sensed my reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. If he did, I am sorry I never told him how sorry I was, how unworthy I was, how I regretted it. I think of him when I complain about trifles, when I am envious of another's good fortune, when I don't have a "good heart".

At such times I put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, "You set the pace, I will try to adjust to you."

Every Bush and Tree Looks Like an Enemy

During the Eastern Jin Dynasty, Fu Jian, king of the State of Qin, controlled northern China. In the year383, Fu Jian led 900,000 infantry and cavalry troops to assault the State of Jin which was south of the Yangtze River. Xie Shi and Xie Xuan, senior generals of the Jin army, led 80,000 troops to offer resistance. Knowing that the Jin army was short of men, Fu Jian wanted to seize this opportunity of being much more numerous in armed forces to stage a quick attack. Unexpectedly, the van of Fu Jian's army of 250,000 troops was defeated in the Shouchun area by an ingenious military move of the Jin army and suffered heavy losses. The senior general of the van of Fu Jian's army was killed, and there were heavy casualties of more than 10,000 soldiers. Fu Jian's army was dispirited and its morale was shaken. Many soldiers were in such a GREat panic that they waited for opportunities to run away. Standing on the city wall of the Shouchun City, Fu Jian and his brother Fu Rong saw that the ranks of the Jin army were in good order and that the morale of the Jin army was high. Turning to his brother, Fu Jian said, "What a powerful enemy this is! Why did people say that the Jin army was short of men?" He deeply regretted that he had taken the enemy too lightly. Overshadowed by the disastrous defeat, Fu Jian ordered his troops to be deployed in battle formation on the north side of the Feishui River, in an attempt to regain the initiative by relying on the superior geographical conditions. Then Xie Shi and Xie Xuan, the senior generals of the Jin army, suggested that Fu Jian's army retreat a little bit, leaving some space, so that the Jin army could cross the river to conduct ooperations. Fu Jian thought that his chance had come, believing that the senior generals of the Jin army did not have the elementary knowledge of warfare. It was his plan to stage a sudden attack while the troops of the Jin army was busy crossing the river, and he was sure that his plan would word. So he willingly accepted the suggestion of the Jin army. Unexpectedly, the moment the order to retreat was given, Fu Jian's troops were utterly routed and could by no means be controlled. Taking advantage of this favorable situation, the Jin army crossed the river, pursuing and attacking the enemy. The trooops of Fu Jian's army threw away everything in headlong flight, and the field was littered with the corpses of the soldiers of Fu Jian's army. Fu Rong was killed in the tangled fighting, and Fu Jian was hit by an arrow and ran away. The Jin army won a brilliant victory by defeating a big army with its limited armed forces. This story comes from "The Life of Fu Jian" in the volume "Records" of The History of the Jin Dynasty. The set phrase "every bush and tree looks like an enemy" is subsequently used to refer to a state of extreme nervousness