I was eight the first time I played checkers. I’ve played about a thousand games since then, but none was so memorable as that first one.

It was icy January in Kansas. When the snowstorm hit, cutting off our power, we were thrown into darkness though it was still around noon. No heat, no light. The winter became terrible for everyone-especially for me and my six year old brother.

Methodically Grandpa gathered up his winter coat, scarf and gloves, and disappeared into snow. Several minutes later, he returned, carrying much wood. Glancing casually at my brother and me, he said, “Come on boys. Time to build a fire. ”

But the fire wasn’t enough to sustain the attention of two young boys. “Maybe,” Grandpa remarked, carefully considering the situation. “we could do something I used to do as a boy. Let’s go camping.”

My brothers and I looked at each other in amazement.

”Get your sleeping bags, pillows and stuffed animals, and meet me back here.“

“Now then” Grandpa began, unfolding a strange looking game board, “who’s up for a little game of checkers?” “What are checkers?” my brother and I asked.

“Never played, eh? Well. it’s time you boys learned,” Grandpa said.

For the next hour or so. Grandpa coached us on the fine art of playing checkers. I became a fair player after losing four games in a row. Then I defeated Grandpa. When I asked him if he’d let me win, he merely winked (眨眼 and set the board up for the next game Afterward. Grandpa used his old guitar to sing us some campfire songs to which we sing along.

Then suddenly, the power came back on. Mom and Dad gave a cheer, but for my brother and me, it was the end of a grand adventure. This wasn’t how we wanted the night to end.

Grandpa looked at us, smiled and then slowly stood up.

The next morning, everything returned to normal: lights, television and heat,

Mama’s Soup Pot

There are too many treasures in life we take for granted, the worth of which we don’t fully realize until they’re pointed out to us in some unexpected way. So it was with Mama’s soup pot.

Mama’s soup was special because there was no recipe for it. It had been so since her girlhood in Italy, where she learned its secret from her grandma, who had inherited (继承) it from generation to generation. Also, it was a symbol of security. For our large immigrant family, Mama’s soup guaranteed we would never go hungry. And we could judge our economic conditions by its contents.

At one time, however, Mama’s soup pot became a source of embarrassment to me, for I feared it would cost me a new friend I had made at school. Sol was an unusual pal for me because his father was a doctor and they lived in the best part of our town. Often Sol invited me to his home for dinner, where I found the food was good but tasteless, lacking the heartiness of the one served from my mom’s flame-blackened pots. Moreover, the atmosphere matched the food and everything was so formal. Sol’s mother and father were polite, but the conversation around the table was not natural, which made me a little depressed. And no one hugged!

In my family, warm hugs were a constant-men, women, boys and girls-and if you didn’t kiss your mother, she demanded: “What’s the matter? You sick?” But at that time in my life, all this was an embarrassment.

I had known Sol would like to eat dinner at my house, but that was the last thing I wanted. My family was so different. No other kids had such pots on their stoves, nor did they have a mama whose first action upon seeing you enter the house was to sit you down with a spoon and bowl.

One day, Sol pointedly asked if he could come to my house. I had to say yes.

The day Sol came over I was nervous.

But Sol quickly finished his bowl and asked for one more.

With only a week before Easter knocked on their door, Faith, the eldest daughter, sat at her old sewing machine—a special gift from her late mother aside from her sewing skills. Her father, George, lost his arm in an accident.

“Let’s have a festive dinner, Dad!” she told George. “We haven’t celebrated anything since Mom’s death.”

“Honey, I barely have any money left.”

“But,” he added. “I can buy some groceries to make a big one.”

“Perfect!” Faith screamed.

In the street, no one noticed George carrying the groceries alone with only one arm. One of his shopping bags slipped and he knelt to pick it up, unaware of an SUV rushing toward him. The harm was done before George could act, with groceries scattering everywhere.

Faith turned around after hearing her father scream but couldn’t locate him. When she dashed down the street, she found George in front of the SUV.

The driver was rushing to get to a meeting and didn’t notice George. She stuffed the money in George’s fist and was about to leave. But George refused.

“I maybe poor, but I can’t take it. My father didn’t raise me to become such a man. Have a good Easter. Try to be more empathetic to others if possible!”

The rich woman couldn’t believe it.

“Sorry, Faith. You have to go through Easter without a dinner.” George said.

“Dad, don’t say that,” Faith wrapped her arms around her father and told him not to worry. She had a brilliant idea!

For the next two days, Faith didn’t sleep a wink(整夜未合眼). She sat at her old sewing machine, making new garments(服装) for an online sale. Luckily, everyone loved Faith’s designs.

On Easter morning, Faith got a strange message from a woman named Emma, who was interested in her designs and wanted to meet her. Faith was so delighted and wrote a reply, accepting the meeting.

The next day, Faith got up early, George preparing breakfast. When she heard the sound of tires, she raced to the window and saw a familiar SUV pull up.

As Faith opened the door, followed by George, she found herself face-to-face with a fashion woman she’d never forget.

Emma bought the dress from Faith, and Faith took the money politely.