I was 68 when I first stepped on stage as a standup comedian in 2003. I’d never set foot in a comedy club before. I’ve always been a performer - I’ve worked as a singer, actor and musician - but all that came to an end after 9/11. I live in New York, and we watched the twin towers fall from my apartment building. For a year afterwards, nobody wanted to go out or be entertained.

It was then that I started to think about comedy. I realised people needed to laugh, to enjoy themselves again, and thought that with a little training I could do it. I took a few classes, tried to work out a routine, and finally plucked up the courage to get up on stage. That first time was terrifying. I had no idea what the audience would make of me.

In New York, comedians are typically young men with beards. It’s hard enough to break through as a woman, even harder as someone old enough to be their grandmother. As I stepped on stage that first time, people laughed nervously. They were clearly surprised to see me. I introduced myself, stated my age and tried my first joke. There was silence. But by the time I got to the third line, people were properly laughing, I was addicted.

Now my sets differ. I might be on stage for 10 minutes in front of a dozen people, or my one-woman show is a full hour in front of a crowd of 100. Even today, I’m nervous before I step out. My first line is, “Hello, everybody. I’m 88 and three-quarters years old. I’m telling you that in case I don’t make it all the way through the show.” Then people laugh and I relax.

After a show, people young and old come up to me, saying what an inspiration I am. They say they want to be as active as me when they reach my age. I’m pleased I can show that as an older person you don’t need to take a back seat in life.

I’ve no intention of stopping comedy. I’m taking all these pills, trying to stay alive, and I hope to still be performing when I’m 100. My goal is to still be up there making people laugh. It’s hard work, but it stops me being bored. I’d only be playing golf otherwise

Benjamin West, the father of American painting, showed his talent for art when he was only six years of age. But he did not know about brushes before a visitor told him he needed one. In those days, a brush was made from camel’s hair. There were no camels nearby. Benjamin decided that cat hair would work instead. He cut some fur from the family cat to make a brush.

The brush did not last long. Soon Benjamin needed more fur. Before long, the cat began to look ragged (蓬乱). His father said that the cat must be sick. Benjamin was forced to admit what he had been doing.

The cat’s lot was about to improve. That year, one of Benjamin’s cousins, Mr Pennington, came to visit. He was impressed with Benjamin’s drawings. When he went home, he sent Benjamin a box of paint and some brushes. He also sent six engravings (版画) by an artist. These were the first pictures and first real paint and brushes Benjamin had ever seen.

In 1747, when Benjamin was nine years old, Mr Pennington returned for another visit. He was amazed at what Benjamin had done with his gift. He asked Benjamin’s parents if he might take the boy back to Philadelphia for a visit.

In the city, Mr Pennington gave Benjamin materials for creating oil paintings. The boy began a landscape painting. William Williams, a well­known painter, came to see his work.Williams was impressed with Benjamin and gave him two classic books on painting to take home. The books were long and dull. Benjamin could read only a little, having been a poor student.But he later said, “Those two books were my companions by day, and under my pillow at night.” While it is likely that he understood very little of the books, they were his introduction to classical paintings. The nine­year­old boy decided then that he would be an artist.

As a famous doctor, Sigmund Freud has problems telling his left from his right. He writes in his diary: I do not know whether it is obvious to other people which is their own or other’s right or left. In my case, I have to think which is my right and no organic feeling tells me. To make sure which is my right hand, I have to make a few writing movements quickly.

Neuroscientist Eric Chudler at the University of Washington referred to a recent study where 71 of 364 (19.5 percent) college professors and 311 of 1,185 (26.2 percent) college students said that they occasionally, frequently or all of the time had difficulty when they had to quickly identify right from left. Chudler told The Washington Post that 95 percent of the 3,719 people who tried his test reported more difficulty with left/right than with up/down.

In most cases, left/right confusion is rarely a big deal. But knowing your directions obviously can be critical if you’re a surgeon or a pilot. That’s why in key situations, there are plans in place to minimize（使减到最少）the chance of problems. In a health care situation, someone may write “not this leg” on a limb（肢）, for example. And in the air, because distractions（分心）can cause any number of errors, pilots must avoid all non—essential conversation during the critical phases of flight.

Experts say that right/left confusion doesn’t mean you’re not smart. But scientists aren’t totally sure what causes the right/left confusion. There does, however, seem to be a link between right/left confusion and brain lateralization（偏侧性）—the fact that the right and left halves of the brain each control unique functions.

There may, however, be an association with gender（性别）. Several studies have found that women are more likely than men to say they are sometimes unable to distinguish between their right and their left. But some researchers say that’s only because women are more likely than men to admit they may have a problem.