I called my brother, Larry. “I have good news, and I have bad,” I said. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“Good news first.”

“You can go to sleep early tonight.”

“Okay. What’s the bad?” he inquired.

“We’re going to the opera!”

The joke was, the last time I made him go, he fell asleep. Even I had to admit it was a boring production. But when someone gave us tickets to the all-time favourite Carmen, I really thought he might enjoy it. When he nodded off again, I let him sleep. I only woke him when his snoring (打鼾) became louder than the performance.

Larry and I have always had our basic values in common, but our interests are as far apart as, well, opera and hockey (冰球). I love the arts, and he’s a huge sports fan. His big passion is NHL hockey. He’s shared season tickets with his friends for years. I must admit there have been times I’ve been tempted (诱惑) to sell my ticket online. Tempted, but I’d never do that. Instead, if he wanted to go, we went. I would complain, “Oh, not again!”

When the game started, my phone would be on my lap. Most of the time, I’d be texting or daydreaming. Sometimes, my texting would be interrupted when the home team scored. I knew they scored because everyone jumped up and exchanged high-fives and fist bumps.

As I looked around at thousands of people cheering and getting increasingly excited, I decided to at least give it a try—for my brother’s sake, if not for my own.

It took a few games, but soon I was hooked. When the other team scored, I eventually felt a bit disappointment with the rest of my crowd.

My brother was surprised to see me getting involved. I was astonished myself! I didn’t keep glancing at the clock, counting the minutes until we got out. Time flew. The game was over before I knew it.

Most people who ran the marathon last month spent days before resting up and days after recovering. But not Jacky Hunt-Broersma. In total, she ran 104 marathons in 104 days. If it’s confirmed by Guinness World Records, that would be a new world record. And she did it all with one leg and a prosthesis (假肢).

“Someone able-bodied had done it previously. I wanted to see if I could do it on a prosthetic leg and see what would happen,” she said. “I thought it would be a great way to inspire others to push their limits because I truly believe that we’re stronger than what we think. And I’ve been so pleasantly surprised that my body has held up. everything has held up and I’ve made it to 104.”

She actually did not pick up the sport until after she lost the lower part of her left leg in 2001 to a type of cancer called Ewing sarcoma. Runners using a prosthetic leg can’t use a regular one. They need a running blade (刀锋式跑步义肢). Hunt-Broersma has two, but she was only able to run with one because of the swelling she experienced in her left leg that made it impossible to connect to the other blade. But even with the pain that occurred, she has been able to put up with it and continued.

All together, Hunt-Broersma ran over 4,385 kilometers. During that time she has had a lot of time to think and has learned a few things about herself. “It has taught me how strong one can be and how important absolute determination is. If you’re mentally strong, you can do anything,” she said. “And our bodies are just amazing... This whole journey was impressive and super hard, but it’s told me how strong I can be as a person and how far I can push myself.”

When I was about 12 years old, my older brother, James, smuggled (偷运) a BB gun into the house. Our parents had told us many times that we were not allowed to bring home guns or knives, even if they were just toys. Having any form of weaponry (兵器) in our home was strictly forbidden.

James brought me to his room. He opened his closet door and took out a shoebox that was buried beneath a heap of clothes. The BB gun was inside. I was immediately attracted by the shiny barrel (枪管).

“Can I shoot it, James?” I asked, hopefully.

“No way,” James said, taking it from me and putting it back.

One day, when no one was home, I went into James’ closet and took it out. For some incomprehensible reason — I have no idea what I was thinking — I went to the front window of the second floor in our row house. I cracked the window open. I pointed the gun outside and shot. I quickly shut the window and looked outside secretly.

In a matter of seconds, old Mr. Schlosberg came out of his grocery store. He looked back at his store window. He looked up the street. He looked down the street. Then he looked straight across to our house.

Thankfully, James made it home before Mother or Father.

As he stepped through the door, I could hear old Mr. Schlosberg call his name. “James, James,” he called. “Come here, son.”

After several minutes, James ran back across the street and into the living room. I had retreated into the kitchen. “Alma!” he screamed. “Get out here! You cracked Mr. Schlosberg’s window with my BB gun!”

“Oh, please, James,” I begged. “Don’t let him tell Mother. She will hit my bottom real good!” James sighed. He wiped my tears and went back across the street to Mr. Schlosberg’s. I don’t know what James said to that man, but there was never a mention of the incident again.

Years later, I found out James had used the money he got from his newspaper route to pay for Mr. Schlosberg’s cracked window. He only got one cent for every paper he delivered. He managed to pay back the debt just before he went off to fight in World War Ⅱ.

Since that day, I have never touched a gun: a BB gun, a water gun, a real gun, or any other type.