My morning routine varies little from day to day. I walk the dog, eat breakfast at the kitchen counter with Katie and Matt, and then settle in for a day at the computer. And because I work mostly from home, I have learned that little walks into the outside world are important for psychological well-being. So before I begin attempting to put sentences together, I walk over to a little coffee shop in my neighborhood, and chat with the folks behind the counter.

The coffee shop is on the other side of the historic Chesapeaker & Ohio Canal from my house. Whenever in season, tourists line up to take a slow boat, if not to India, at least into the 19th century.

One warm day last fall, I turned the corner to see one of the boatmen sitting alone on the boat, bathed in early-morning light. He was playing the violin. The scene stopped me in my tracks. What I witnessed could only be described as a perfect moment. Ten seconds at most. But months later I still remember just standıng there, watching, listening, and taking it all in.

We all have such moments put before us. Little surprises. Whether we’re wise enough to see them is another thing.

I thought of the violin man one Sunday afternoon while reading the biographies of those killed in the Columbia incident. The specialist Laurel Clark, talking from the shuttle a few days before it was to land, said it was blissful to see the simple unexpected wonders of space like a sunset. “There’s a flash; the whole payload bay turns this rosy pink,” she said. “It only lasts about 15 seconds, and then it’s gone.”

I once had a friend who had a strange habit that never stopped to amuse me, maybe because I never quite knew when she was going to spring it on me. It could come in the middle of a particularly lively dinner with old friends. Out of the blue, she’d say, “Stop! I want to remember this moment.” I realize now, after her death, what wise advice that is.

Like most people in their 20s, I almost never talked to older people before last year. Then the pandemic began. Laid off from my staff job, I started freelancing (从事自由职业). Stringing together stories for the “70 Over 70” newspaper, I found myself mostly talking to people over 80.

For me this may have been a professional accident, but I can’t recommend the experience highly enough. The old have been uniquely affected by the pandemic. They’ve lost some of their last years of life. But they still manage to feel wonder and an energetic curiosity, when so many of us feel anxious and lost.

As I’ve interviewed seniors over the past year, my conversations have taught me equanimity — basically, how to be cooler-minded. Donalda McGeachy, a 101-year-old living in a nursing home, told me, the pandemic may be bad, but it’s been only 18 months. That's nothing compared with the loneliness and uncertainty she experienced during the six years of World War II. These conversations have also encouraged me to avoid regret. Peter and Sjanna Leighton married and divorced in their 20s, then found each other again in their 50s and remarried. For them, regret over the shared decades they lost comes with the miraculous (不可思议的) happiness of their remaining time together. And these conversations have reminded me about the genuine joy of putting in effort and taking pride in your work: Travis Mayes spent years struggling to develop his brisket (胸脯肉) recipe and prove himself to his Dallas-area customers. Now the self-described “barbecue man of Garland” won’t stop just because he’s approaching 80.

When we’re young, we hear that we’re supposed to turn to our elders for advice. But the elders I talk to have no patience for polished proverbs about how to build a meaningful life. Instead, the lesson I take from them is: to enjoy what’s wonderful.

My husband came across the program from his father's high school graduation 90 years ago. It was the Class of 1928 and their class motto （格言）was, "Build for character, not for fame. "

I'm pretty sure society has done quite the opposite to that one. These days, we have people who are famous for simply being famous. They haven't done anything particularly impressive, but they do take great selfies （自拍照）. We are all crazy about fame these days, mainly thanks to social media. All we want is for people to follow us, friend us, like us or share our posts. We are nearly mad about fame.

"Build for character, not for fame. ” is based on the belief that one is looking up and ahead. That's an encouraging idea, especially today, when most of us have our heads down, looking at the screens of our smartphones. Looking ahead and building for character takes thought and intentionality （意向性）. One can be intentional in building for fame as well, but fame often relies heavily on the right timing and connections as well as the creation of a base of fans and supporters. Character isn’t decided by the ideas of others. Character is built with self-discipline （自律）and a willingness to learn from difficulties. Character grows inside and needs no praise.

Fame depends on people looking at you, while character is who you are when no one is looking. Fame often comes with jealousy （嫉妒）--a feeling that time is running out or that someone better than you is coming to steal your fans. Character is marked by feeling fulfilled and being generous . There is satisfaction that comes with the reward of achievements, but at the same time, good character willingly holds the door open for others who are also hoping to achieve.

This graduation season, speakers will tell new graduates to get out there and build a better world. The best way is to build character, the kind that runs deep and can carry you through lifers storms. Build character with courage, justice （公正） and strength. Build character by respecting yourself and others . Build character with kindness, hope and love. Build for character and you will build a better world .