[+/-] : Donation for quake-hit region

Yang Chao (R), chairman of China Life Insurance Co., and Liu Xuanguo (L), vice secretary-general of Red Cross Society of China (RCSC), attend the donation ceremony in Beijing, capital of China, May 14, 2008. China Life Insurance Co. donated 16 million Yuan (about 2.3 million U.S. dollars) to help the relief work of the quake-hit region in Sichuan Province in southwest China via RCSC.

Li Gang (R), deputy director of the Liaison Office of the Central People's Government in the HKSAR, and Hong Kong Jockey Club Chairman John Chan Cho-chak (C) attend the donation ceremony in south China's Hong Kong, May 14, 2008. Hong Kong Jockey Club donated 30 million HK dollars (about 3.85 million U.S. dollars) to help the relief work of the quake-hit region in Sichuan Province in southwest China.

People wait in the rain to donate money to the quake-hit region of southwest China's Sichuan Province, in Yunyan District of Guiyang, capital of southwest China's Guizhou Province, May 14, 2008. Over 4.1 million RMB yuan (about 585,800 U.S. dollars) was donated by people of Yunyan District Wednesday.

Students of Jiefang Primary School donate money to the quake-hit region in Sichuan Province in southwest China, in Harbin, capital of northeast China's Heilongjiang Province, May 14, 2008

Monks of Zhaibung Monastery donate money to the quake-hit region in Sichuan Province of southwest China, in Lhasa, capital of southwest China's Tibet Autonomous Region, May 14, 2008.

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[+/-] : love power

A guard came to the prison shoe shop where Jimmy Valentine was working and took him to the prison office. There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed that morning by the governor. He took it quietly; he was too tired to show excitement. He had been in prison nearly ten months and he had been sentenced to four years. True, he had expected to stay only about three months, at the longest. He had a lot of friends and he had been sure they would help him.
“Now, Valentine,” said the warden, “You’ll go out in the morning. Make a man of yourself. You’re not a bad fellow really. Stop breaking open safes and be honest.”
“Me?” said Jimmy, in surprise. “Why, I’ve never broken open a safe in my life.”
“Oh, no,” laughed the warden. “Of course not. And what about that Springfield job? Do you mean to say you didn’t take part in it?”
“Me?” said Jimmy still more surprised. “Why, warden, I’ve never been to Springfield in my life!”
“Take him back,” the warden said to the guard smiling, “and give him some clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning and let him come to me. Better think over my advice, Valentine.”
At a quarter past seven the next morning Jimmy stood in the warden’s office. He wore a badly-fitting ready-made suit and the cheap shoes that the state gives to prisoners, when they are set free. The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill with which he was supposed to start a new, honest life. The warden gave him a cigar, and they shook hands. Valentine, 9762, was registered on the books “Pardoned by Governor,” and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine....
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[+/-] : a chance of lifetime

"This is a chance of a life time," I declared to my friend Stacy as I locked the door of my office and left the restaurant I managed. "It's every twenty-seven-year-old woman's dream to live in New York City, and in a few months I'll know if I get the transfer."
I watched the moonlight glisten on the waters of Laguna Beach. "I'll miss it here, but living in the Big Apple is everything I've ever wanted - a dream come true."
We met a group of our friends at a local cafe, and I jabbered on about the possibility of my move. Laughter erupted from a nearby table. I watched as a handsome man captured the attention of his friends with his engaging story. His broad, warm smile and air of confidence held me in a trance. Stacy nudged me. "You're staring
Michelle, and about to drool." "Wow," I whispered. I watched the gorgeous guy push up the sleeves of his bulky sweater. Everyone at his table had their eyes fixed on him. "That's the man I want to marry." "Yeah, right," Stacy droned. "Tell us more about where you'd like to live in New York, because we all plan to visit you there when you land this job. " As I spoke my gaze drifted back to the debonair man.
Three months later my friends and I gathered at the same restaurant. "To life in the Big Apple!" they cheered as we tapped our glasses together. "My chance of a lifetime!" We talked for hours. I told them of my plan to save money by moving out of my beach cottage and renting a room for the few remaining months. Our friend offered, "I have a fellow South African friend who is considering renting one of the four bedrooms in his house. His name is Barry. A great guy." He scribbled on a napkin. "This is his number. He's a forty-two-year-old confirmed bachelor. Says he's much too busy being a single dad to be a husband."
I made an appointment to see the room the same day. I approached the entrance of the spacious house, and the door opened. "You must be Michelle," he said. He pushed up the sleeves of his bulky sweater and flashed his handsome smile. It was the man from the restaurant months before --- the man I wanted to marry.
I stood staring, my mouth gaping, hoping I wasn't drooling.
"You are Michelle, aren't you? " he said, coaxing me out of my trance." Would you like to see the room?"...
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[+/-] : Everyday is A Gift

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This", he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip.
It was exquisite, silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached.
"Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion.
Well, I guess this is the occasion.
He took the slip from me and put it on the bed, with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me, "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you' re alive is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special....
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