Jerry was born on October 14, 1966. Shortly after birth, he was discovered to have a heart defect (缺陷) and quickly had an operation to save his life. Although he always thought his childhood to be “normal”, there were quite a few things that made him a little different. He couldn’t do heavy farm work like his brothers and his classmates called him “grape juice” because his lips would turn purple in gym class.

After another operation, Jerry went on to live a very full life. He studied in a technical school and met his love after graduation. They married in 1989, and in 1993, the first light of Jerry’s life was born.

Growing up with Jerry as my dad was the greatest blessing of my life. He was always full of life and light, making anyone around smile. He never wanted to draw attention to his medical condition. Even many of his close friends and co-workers were unaware of his heart problem. To all of us he was just a normal guy — that was just the way he wanted it.

I didn’t know or understand my father was sick until he was placed a pacemaker (心脏起搏器). Despite several times of unconsciousness, and 19 days’ stay in ICU, he managed to celebrate Christmas with us and even work as usual. With his wide laugh, I soon adjusted to a “new normal” father. The progress and life, as we now know, came to a grinding halt one night after he came down with a cold.

He was picked up by a helicopter. The nurse said my dad was in good spirits throughout the trip, cracking jokes and making her laugh. When he was unloaded, his eyes rolled back and was unresponsive. The man who loved his life and family was gone.

My dad taught me many lessons. But probably the most important one was in his death. I know as I celebrate his incredible life, he will be looking down on me with smile.

When it came to role models, Diana Ortiz said her mother, Marcia Dominguez, was the “hero”. Ms. Dominguez came to the United States from Cuba in 1979. She went to college and got a job as a social worker —   all the while raising three children in America mostly on her own.

“It was always school first，” Diana said, “My mom had us in a straight line. If we got out of line, she corrected us. She was a perfect woman. She was beautiful, she had the education and she had everything — but the illness took over. When I was 11, it frightened me to see how quickly my mother's health was ruined by cancer. A week before I turned 14, my mother died at age 50. I had tried to prepare myself, but on the first morning I woke up without my mother, the sense of loss was painful.”

Diana had not seen her father for five years, who refused to provide for her. Diana then entered the city's foster care system. She has spent about four years in foster homes.

Despite Diana's hard teenage years, the values her mother had planted in her mind inspired her to go after higher education. Since August 2010, she has been a fulltime student majoring in law. A public organization offers her tuition but she has part­time jobs to help people like her and earn more life experience. Her goal is a job in the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

For now, Diana works 20 hours a week as a cashier at Marshalls, earning D|S7.25 an hour. In November, she moved into her own public housing studio apartment on the Lower East Side. She pays D|S236 a month in rent. Although she is out of foster care, Diana has been speaking at workshops for foster youths. She emphasizes that nothing should get in the way of their success, not the trials of their lives or what they may have lost.

“I tell the young who have the similar experience like me, ‘Why are you going to let what happened to you affect you in the long run？’” Diana said, “ ‘Why are you going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself? You're wasting precious time.’ It is a message my mother would approve of. My mom taught me that everything is not given to you. You have to go out and get it.”

I have learned something about myself since I moved from Long Island to Florida three years ago. Even though I own a home in Port St. Lucie just minutes from the ocean, an uncontrollable urge wells up to return to Long Island even as others make their way south. I guess I am a snowbird stuck in reverse. Instead of enjoying Florida’s mild winters, I willingly endure the severe weather on Long Island, the place I called home for 65 years.

I’m like a migratory bird that has lost its sense of timing and direction, my wings flapping against season.

So what makes me fly against the tide of snowbirds? The answer has a lot to do with my reluctance to give up the things that define who I am. Once I hear that the temperature on Long Island has dipped into the range of 40 to 50 degrees, I begin to long for the sight and crackling sound of a wood fire. I also long for the bright display o£ colors — first in the £all trees, and then in the limits around homes and at Rockefeller Center. Floridians decorate too, but can’t create the special feel of a New England winter.

I suppose the biggest reason why I telum is to celebrate the holidays with people I haven’t seen in months. What could be better than sitting with family and friends for a Thanksgiving turkey din ner, or watching neighbors’ children excitedly open gifts on Christmas? Even the first snowfall seems special. I especially enjoy seeing a bright red bird settling on a snow-covered branch ( My wife and I spend winters at a retirement community in Ridge, and I’m grateful that I don’t have to shovel.）

While these simple pleasures are not unique to Long Island, they are some of the reasmis why I come back. Who says you can’t go home?