The signs appeared practically overnight. They appeared everywhere. Each featured just a few uplifting words in simple black type：“Don’t Give Up. ”“You Are Worthy of Love. ”At the high school in Newberg，Oregon，two students killed themselves that year，so the town of 25，000 instantly understood the messages. For days，what no one could figure out was who had planted them.

Amy Wolff had. She felt necessary to address Newberg’s grief. She planted the signs anonymously(匿名)because she wanted them to be about their message，not any one person.

Yet as Wolff saw the deep influence her signs had on her neighbors，she decided to share her message publicly. Instantly，her mailbox was flooded with requests for more signs. She asked a friend，graphic designer Jessica Brittell，to print more. “We decided to just ride it out，just keep going until the orders stop，”says Wolff.

That was in May 2017. Since then，the Don’t Give Up Movement launched by Wolff has spread from Newberg to the hearts and yards of people in every state and several countries. Wolff charges only the cost of materials and shipping. “It’s a terrible business decision if we wanted to function like a business，”she says.

One of the most heartening elements of the Don’t Give Up Movement is that it has gone viral in a remarkably human way. People have taken to planting the signs in their lawns，taking selfies，and then posting them to share.

“It was the best feeling in the world that I could have an impact outside of school by using these products，”says a teacher，in Texas teaching a lesson in unity after his classroom moved online. “This was a good way to let them know that we care even when we can’t see them. ”

Wolff's message is about to grow yet again. “But there has never been a more fierce backdrop to the power of hope and sympathetic action than right now，”Wolff shares.

When we reached St. Joseph’s Hospital in Comox, my grandma was there to greet us and show us to our grandpa’s room. I remember walking through the long hallways, overtaken by the sound of coughing and the strong smell of sanitizer(消毒剂). I wondered how someone could ever feel better in a place so cold and boring.

When we reached grandpa’s room, his eyes lit up. Grandma explained that it was time to get up and take him for a walk.

I had always known my grandpa was an artist and a poet, but it wasn’t until we wheeled him along that I understood what it meant to see the world through his eyes. Every few steps along the hallway, he would stop and look at an old painting inside a hospital room. Where I saw boredom, he saw color, excitement and beauty. I began to learn, it was all a matter of perspective(角度).

My sisters and I decided that instead of bringing our sadness and boredom, we would bring something different to our grandpa’s bedside. Each day we visited we would bring him his old art, read him poems he had written and tell him jokes. The hospital felt more alive and welcoming with each passing day.

On the last day before we flew home, we all went for lunch. Everyone knew it would be the last time we would eat together. The meal was quiet. We were holding back our tears(眼泪) reaching for our glass of water every so often. I looked at Grandpa. There were no tears in his eyes, no signs of fear or regret; he just sat there with a smile on his face and a spoonful of soup in his mouth. At the end of that meal, he smiled gently and told us in a soft voice: “I’m ready to die.”

When Grandpa passed away that November, I didn’t grieve(感到悲痛). He wouldn’t have wanted me to.

To the untrained eye, a ping-pong ball is just a ping-pong ball. To a Beverly Cleary fan, it's two motorcycle helmets（头盔）for mice. Just cut apart and add rubber band chin straps. Ever since I read Cleary's series about Ralph, the motorcycle-riding mouse, I've never looked at a ping-pong ball—or the world—the same way. And why shouldn't it be? It's perfect.

I wanted a mouse of my own to ride a toy motorcycle around my house! Thanks to Cleary's genius, a talking mouse friend seemed not only possible but probable.

Cleary, who passed away at 104, was one of the main reasons why I became a children's author. While much of children's literature attempted to explain the world from the point of view of a wise and gentle adult, Cleary created main characters who saw the world as only children can. I carefully read every title that bore Beverly Cleary's name. She seemed like a friend who understood me in ways I didn't yet understand myself.

I've written eight children's books and have always kept Beverly's sense of wonder in mind. I don't remember at exactly what age I decided I wanted to write books, but I know that in the second or third grade, my teacher assigned a project that allowed us to focus on whatever we wanted. My best friend picked dolphins while I chose children's authors. I told that story recently to a school group. One of the students said, "That's amazing! You did your project on children's authors and then you became one!" "Yes," I said.

And that perfectly sums up why I love writing for children: the lack of cynicism（愤世嫉俗）, the belief that fantastic, magical things can happen. Best friends can become dolphins. Mice can ride toy motorcycles and become our friends.

That's what Beverly Cleary taught me. In the hands of a gifted storyteller, anything is possible…and very funny.