Some years ago, writing in my diary used to be a usual activity.I would return from school and spend the expected half hour recording the day'sevents, feelings, and impressions in my little blue diary. I did not reallyneed to express my emotions by way of words, but I gained a certainsatisfaction from seeing my experiences forever recorded on paper. After all,isn't accumulating memories a way of preserving the past?
When I was thirteen years old, I went on a long journey on footin a great valley, well equipped with pens, a diary, and a camera. During thetrip, I was busy recording every incident, name and place I came across. I feltproud to be spending my time productively, dutifully preserving for futuregenerations a detailed description of my travels. On my last night there, Iwandered out of my tent, diary in hand. The sky was clear and lit by the glareof the moon, and the walls of the valley looked threatening behind their screenof shadows. I automatically took out my pen...
At that point, I understood that nothing I wrote could evermatch or replace the few seconds I allowed myself to experience the dramaticbeauty of the valley. All I remembered of the previous few days were the dullcharacterizations I had set down in my diary.
Now, I only write in my diary when I need to write down aspecial thought or feeling. I still love to record ideas and quotations thatstrike me in books, or observations that are particularly meaningful. I takepictures, but not very often only of objects I find really beautiful. I'm nolonger blindly satisfied with having something to remember when I grow old. Irealize that life will simply pass me by if I stay behind the camera, busypreserving the present so as to live it in the future.
I don't want to wake up one day and have nothing but a pile ofpictures and notes. Maybe I won't have as many exact representations of peopleand places; maybe I'll forget certain facts, but at least the experiences willalways remain inside me. I don't live to make memories--I just live, and thememories form themselves.
I am peter Hodes ,a volunteer stem courier. Since March 2012, I've done 89 trips of those , 51 have been abroad, I have 42 hours to carry stem cells（干细胞）in my little box because I've got two ice packs and that's how long they last, in all, from the time the stem cells are harvested from a donor(捐献者) to the time they can be implanted in the patient, we've got 72 hours at most, So I am always conscious of time.
I had one trip last year where I was caught by a hurricane in America. I picked up the stem cells in Providence, Rhode Island, and was meant to fly to Washington then back to London. But when I arrived at the check-in desk at Providence, the lady on the desk said: “Well, I'm really sorry, I've got some bad news for you-there are no fights from Washington.” So I took my box and put it on the desk and I said: “In this box are some stem cells that are urgently needed for a patient-please, please, you’ve got to get me back to the United Kingdom.” She just dropped everything. She arranged for a flight on a small plane to be held for mere-routed(改道)me through Newark and got me back to the UK even earlier than originally scheduled.
For thiscourier job, you’re consciously aware than that box you’re got something that is potentially going to save somebody's life.
In the years of my growing up, Dad was strict with me. He made sure I made my bed and did my homework. He would call in advance to make sure there was no alcohol at the party. I got so angry with him for laying down the law. I would scream, “ I hate you!” Dad would yell back, “Good! I don't care!” Deep down I knew he did.
One time at a party, I drank too much alcohol and got so sick. I said, “ Call my dad.” Next thing, Dad was carrying me to the car. I woke up the next morning, thinking I would definitely be criticised. As expected, I got a roasting, but I now understand why I need discipline.
Dad was 29 when he got his big roles in films. I had an early start at the age of nine with a role in a 1990s TV series, but it wasn't until I finished film studies that I pursued my career as an actress. Like those early days for Dad, I faced lots of rejections. Working in such a competitive industry, I've sometimes thought, “ I can't do this any more.”
Once, after a trip to Hollywood, I returned to Australia so depressed and spent months in my bedroom painting, listening to Eckhart Tolle's music and trying to find myself again. Dad sat me down and said,“Alice, I know it's hard, but it's all about persistence(坚持不懈).”
Now I get to work with Dad a lot, which I love. We both passionate about acting, which comes from us being so interested in people. If it weren't for Dad, I wouldn't be where I am today. He's my biggest fan, and when you have that in your life you can go a long way.
Allow me to introduce you to Terry, a window salesman from England. If I could take you back about 20 years, you'd know Terry as a complete green hand, who was wet behind the ears in just about everything he attempted. A person couldn't sell false teeth to his own Granny, let alone he could compete with the other salespeople in the industry. You know, the kind who could sell snow to Eskimos.
Terry's boss decided to send him out on a practical field trip on his first day. So off he went, but he was extremely nervous. With his hands and his knees shaking, he approached the front door and knocked at it. And an old woman appeared. After dozens of cups of tea and pieces of biscuits, the woman signed a contract and purchased over $7,000 worth of windows.
The woman had already talked with 6 excellent salesmen that week, all of whom offered her cheaper ones! That's right—Terry's price was the most expensive and he was also the most inexperienced salesman there ever was.
So, what happened then? Here comes the secret. The woman said she liked the young lad more than the others. That's all there was to it. She didn't care about the extra expense. Even the other salesmen couldn't persuade her to pay less than this young lad was asking for.
The truth is that the young lad left on the woman the first impression that shone brighter than any of the salesman's talk. First impressions count, not the sales techniques, not the low prices. The actual “personality” the kid honestly gave was all that was required. If you market your own products and services, consider what impression you are giving to others. If you appeal to them, then you've already done half of the work. If this means redesigning your presentation, then so be it. If this means going out of your way to be polite, helpful and giving the best possible shopping experience to your customers, the so be it.
Someone had given our name and phone number to a charity, and its staff were bringing us Christmas presents.
I made sure the house was as spotless as it could be with four children living in it, as the due time drew near, I sat on the edge of the couch. Each time I heard a car, I jumped up to see if they were here. Each time it wasn't them, I was relieved, yet disappointed.
Finally a huge car pulled into the driveway, and four people got out. Now I was embarrassed as well as grateful, excited and nervous. I greeted them with a smile. They made several trips and soon my living room was full of boxes and bags.
I tried to say “thank you” but my throat suddenly closed up and tears welled up in my eyes.
I watched through the window as they drove away, wondering what they thought of me. I had always donated, but not received. We weren't always like this. My husband had been out of work, and we were struggling. I'd wanted to say this to them, but the words wouldn't come out.
I quickly put away the gifts before the school-aged children came home. I hid them in closets and under beds as quickly as I could. On Christmas morning I felt a little guilty as our four children tore open the boxes and bags with pleasure, thinking they were from us.
My nine-year-old son opened a game box and taped inside the lid was an envelope. I opened it and read aloud: May the joy of Christmas be with you all through the year. At the bottom of the card, written in small, neat letters was a sentence, it said: Although the sea gets rough, no storm lasts forever.
I was suddenly ashamed of being ashamed. I finally understood.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a kid?!” My 7-year-old once asked me. My initial reaction to her complaint (抱怨) was eye-rolling, along with thinking, “Being a kid is hard? Are you kidding me?” as I mentally counted all the hard things that her grown-up mama did.
However, as I thought about it a bit more, I realized how silly my reaction had been. Yes, as we adults look back on our childhood, being a kid seems carefree and easy and full of fun. Coloring at school! Playing games! Riding bikes! How could that be hard? So I asked my daughter why being a kid was so hard.
“Well, because you don't have your own phone, and you can't eat in the living room,” she said.
I asked if anything else was hard about being a kid. “Someone else is the boss of you,” she replied.
I thought some more. What else is hard about being a kid? Well, sometimes, we don't really take kids seriously.
There are times when I've responded to my children's tears with “It's not bad,” or “You don't need to be upset about that.” Because I believe that a cancelled playdate or a lost toy is no big deal. But for my little ones, it is.
We don't intentionally ignore these opportunities for connection, but sometimes, in busy moments of parenting, we respond unskillfully. We don't put ourselves in our children's shoes, and we miss an opportunity to practice compassion.
Compassion means “to feel with” or “to suffer with” another person. It means seeing something the way they do, and experiencing it with them.
Here's what I've learned about being a more compassionate parent, and I hope other parents can do the same thing.
Dear Anne,
I like your column very much. I met a girl four years ago at a gym. She was the one who originally approached me and we became good friends. Then one day, she made me really angry, so angry that I just left and we never saw each other again.
Looking back, I really regret ending things that way. It was a cowardly act on my part, but I had a terrible temper at that time and let the smallest thing get to me. Recently, I've started thinking about her again and I looked up her e-mail address. I thought about writing to say “Hi” and apologize for what I did but I'm not sure. She could still be angry with me, or maybe she has forgotten me. I feel very lonely and I want to see her again. What should I do?
Tom
Dear Tom,
She may still be angry with you, and she may have forgotten the friendship between you, but that doesn't mean she doesn't deserve an apology. Tom, how many of us have wished for the day that someone who treated us badly saw the light and finally owned up? But we rarely get that kind of expected result. So sure, e-mail her and say “Hi”.
Tell her you have been thinking about her and just want to apologize for getting angry and being a coward by walking out on her. But you should remember if she thinks you're apologizing just because you are lonely, she might dismiss your sincerity. Therefore, don't mention that. If she wants to see you again, she'll make sure that happens.
Even if she doesn't want to be your friend, I can assure you, she'll appreciate the gesture. And it might make you think twice next time you get angry.
Anne
Nikola Tesla
Long overshadowed in public memory by his one-time employer, Thomas Edison, Tesla (1856—1943) was a brilliant scientist and engineer who earned more than 700 patents. He is most famous for developing alternating current (交流电), but his work also led to advances in wireless communications, lasers, X-rays, radar, lighting, robotics, and much more.
Tesla was born to Serbian parents in what is now Croatia, but he emigrated(移民) to the U.S. as a young man, where he eventually became a naturalized citizen. Besides Edison, who later became his bitter rival, Tesla often worked with inventor George Westinghouse. In 1893, the pair demonstrated their advances in lighting and motors in the "White City" at the Chicago World's Fair. In 1895, Tesla and Westinghouse developed the world's first hydroelectric power plant, at Niagara Falls.
At the turn of the century, Tesla set up a laboratory called Wardenclyffe in the small community of Shoreham, Long Island, where he conducted some of his most ambitious experiments. The building was financed by J. P. Morgan and designed by acclaimed architect Stanford White.
The most prominent feature was Wardenclyffe Tower, also called Tesla Tower, a 187-foot-tall metal lattice tower topped with a big antenna that was intended to beam communications and even energy across the Atlantic.Tesla ran out of money while building the tower and was foreclosed(取消赎回权) on twice. As with his previous Colorado Springs lab, assets were sold to pay up his debts. In 1917, the U.S. government blew up the tower, fearing that German spies were using it in World War I. The metal was sold for scrap. For decades, the building was used for photo processing.
"The tower is long gone, but the three-quarter-length statue of Tesla unveiled last week is a fitting memorial," said Alcorn, a retired teacher. "This is the last remaining Tesla laboratory anywhere in the world," she said. "He inspires those who work hard but don't get recognition, and people are starting to recognize how important his contributions are."
As a sign of that growing appreciation, Elon Musk's start-up electric car company Tesla Motors was named after the visionary inventor in 2003.
a. he moved to the U.S. to become an American
b. he entered the Chicago World's Fair
c. he joined in American army in WWI
d. he developed the world's first hydroelectric power plant
e. he built a lab called Wardenclyffe
Every man wants his son to be somewhat of a clone, not in features but in footsteps. As he grows you also age, and your ambitions become more unachievable. You begin to realize that your boy, in your footsteps, could probably accomplish what you hoped for. But footsteps can be muddied and they can go off in different directions.
My son Jody has hated school since day one in kindergarten. Science projects waited until the last moment. Book reports weren't written until the final threat.
I've been a newspaperman all my adult life. My daughter is a university graduate working towards her master's degree in English. But Jody? When he entered the tenth grade he became a “vo-tech” student (技校学生). They're called “motorheads” by the rest of the student body.
When a secretary in my office first called him “motorhead”, I was shocked. “Hey, he's a good kid,” I wanted to say. “And smart, really.”
I learned later that motorheads are, indeed, different. They usually have dirty hands and wear dirty work clothes. And they don't often make school honor rolls (光荣榜).
But being the parent of a motorhead is itself an experience in education. We who labor in clean shirts in offices don't have the abilities that motorheads have. I began to learn this when I had my car crashed. The cost to repair it was estimated at $800. “Hey, I can fix it,” said Jody. I doubted it, but let him go ahead, for I had nothing to lose.
My son, with other motorheads, fixed the car. They got parts from a junkyard, and ability from vo-tech classes. The cost was $25 instead of $800.
Since that first repair job, a broken air-conditioner, a non-functioning washer and a non-toasting toaster have been fixed. Neighbours and co-workers trust their car repairs to him.
These kids are happiest when doing repairs. They joke and laugh and are living in their own relaxed world. And their minds are bright despite their dirty hands and clothes.
I have learned a lot from my motorhead: publishers need printers, engineers need mechanics, and architects need builders. Most important, I have learned that fathers don't need clones in footsteps or anywhere else.
My son may never make the school honor roll. But he made mine.
Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908-2004) is one of the most original and influential figures in the history of photography. His photographs helped establish photojournalism as an art form.
Henri's family was wealthy—his father made a fortune as a textile manufacturer—but Henri later joked that due to his parents' economical ways, it often seemed as though his family was poor.
Educated in Paris, Henri developed an early love for literature and arts. As a teenager, Henri was against his parents' formal ways of education. In his early adulthood, he fell in love with several appetites, but it was art that remained at the center of his life.
Henri traveled to Africa in 1931 to hunt antelope and boar. And Africa fueled another interest in him: photography. He then wandered around the world with his camera, using a handheld camera to catch images from fleeting moments of everyday life.
Not long after World War Ⅱ, Henri traveled east, spending considerable time in India, where he met and photographed Gandhi shortly before he was killed in 1948. Henri's work to document Gandhi's death and its immediate effect on the country became one of Life Magazine's most prized photo essays.
Henri's approach to photography remained much the same throughout his life. He made clear his dislike of images that had been improved by artificial light, darkroom effects, and even cutting. The naturalist in Henri believed that all editing should be done when the photo is taken. In 1952, his first book, The Decisive Moment, a rich collection of his work spanning two decades, was published. "There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment," he said.
In 1968, he began to turn away from photography and returned to his passion for drawing and painting.
"Make way, good people, make way, in the King's name! "cried he. "Open a text; and, I promise you, Mistress Prynne shall be set where man, woman, and child, may have a fair sight of her brave clothing, from this time till an hour past noon. A blessing on the moral Colony of the Massachusetts, where immorality is dragged out into the sunshine! Come along, Madam Hester, and show your scarlet （鲜红色的；罪孽深重的）letter in the market-place!
A lane was at once opened through the crowd. Led by the beadle （狱吏），and attended by an irregular procession of serious-looking men and unkind-looking women, Hester Prynne set forth towards the place appointed for her punishment. A crowd of eager and curious schoolboys, understanding little of the matter in hand, except that it gave them a half-holiday, ran before her progress, turning their heads continually to stare into her face, and at the winking baby in her arms, and at the shameful letter on her breast.
It was no great distance, in those days, from the prison-door to the market-place. Measured by the prisoner's experience, however, it might be considered to be a rather long journey; for, though her manner was proud, she perhaps underwent an extreme pain from every footstep of those who thronged to see her, as if her heart had been thrown into the street for them all to step upon. In our nature, however, there is a condition that the sufferer should never know the intensity of what he endures by its present suffering, but chiefly by the pain that rankles （使痛心）after it. With almost a calm manner, therefore, Hester Prynne passed through this portion of her suffering, and came to a sort of scaffold （刑台），at the western end of the market-place. It stood nearly beneath the eaves of Boston's earliest church, and appeared to be a fixture there.
The morning after an evening struggle to care for my three-year-old daughter, I couldn't wait to get her to school. I, as a mother, was tired from the anger and her inability to communicate because of her slowed language development.
As I accompanied her into the car, I felt desperate. Nothing was right with our world. She'd been born around the same time when the nation was witnessing the birth of another Great Recession. My job and my house had been victims. Then this happened. My child's language delay was identified, but doctors struggled to properly help her, I felt like we both needed to he rescued.
I returned that afternoon as disenchanted with the little girl I loved as when I left. Walking slowly toward the school's playground gate, I found her preschool teacher racing to greet me.
"You should have seen her today!" His breathy words were supported by excitement. I didn't interrupt. "See that climber. " He pointed to a wooden piece of playground equipment that looked like a rock wall. I nodded. "Well, every day since she started school, she's tried and failed to make it to the top. " He took a breath. "And today she did it!"
He expressed his joy just as he'd witnessed her conquering Mount Everest! "She cheered and celebrated! I wish I'd recorded it!" His words comforted me. My daughter had conquered her mountain.
As she ran toward me, I recognized something I hadn't before. I saw her perseverance(毅力). I saw her strength. I saw a Hero.
Everyday greatness celebrates ordinary people who do unusual things in big and small ways, showing courage, kindness, love and selflessness. We encourage you to click these brief accounts and invite you to share your own story.
Since the very year I was born, South Jersey has been a part of me. Since both of my grandparents have lived in the area for many decades, my family has visited South Jersey yearly since 2014. It's warm and lively feel is very appealing to many families that are looking for an easy and fun getaway.
Every summer we pile into the car and drive four hours away to the Seaview Hotel and Club, a wonderful place which is located in Galloway. 20 minutes from the beach and board- walk (木板人行道).The Seaview is enticing and quite inexpensive as well, which is perfect for any family. The rooms are neat, and the breakfasts are a real attraction, even to adults. I have always loved going down to their lovely outdoor swimming pool in the mornings and then ordering a lunch from The Coastal Grille, the hotel's main restaurant. The Seaview is really great, and somewhere else is even more exciting.
At the end of every day in South Jersey, my family always makes it an important goal to drive to the local beach and boardwalk. Ocean City is wonderful with great swimming, lots of pizza places, ice cream stands, and excellent rides and games.
After dinner, we always check out "Gillian's Pier," the impressive and exciting, yet small amusement area located on the boardwalk. It is lots of fun to ride on bumper car (碰碰车)and rollercoaster and to taste soft-serve ice creams and cotton candy. Next door, there is even a video arcade (游戏厅), so overall South Jersey is your classic family summer vacation. I would definitely recommend visiting, even just for a weekend, someday.
On April 14th, 2010, my entire life changed in an instant. One moment I was joyfully riding through the sunshine. The next moment, metal, flesh and bone were spreading against the pavement in a thunderous crash. Another cyclist, biking carelessly, had cut me off and sent me supermanning toward oncoming traffic.
As if to symbolize the accident that had hit my life, another disaster also occurred on April 14th, 2010. It cost the airline industry＄l.7 billion. Ten million travelers were stuck for days. Economies all over the world were disturbed. This was the eruption of Eyjafjallajokull, one of Iceland's many volcanoes.
However, volcanoes are not all bad. In fact, they are necessary. They are responsible for the birth of new earth, and for the creation of rich soil. This eruption gave off 0.15 million tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere daily. But cancelling 48% of the world's flight travel saved about 2.8 million tons of CO₂ from entering the atmosphere, temporarily decreasing our carbon footprint.
Similarly, the accident had badly affected my emotion but it also allowed me to look more closely inside myself and discover things about myself I never would have realized. I learned how not to judge myself for my new limitations.
In 1973, another Icelandic volcano, Eldfell, broke out. Icelanders decided to bomb it with cold water until it froze and chose a different path. After their plan worked, they used the geothermal (地热) energy for the next 15years to heat their homes. A good example of life bringing lemons, and making lemonade! One must move on from misfortunes, focusing only on the present moment and being hopeful for the future.
I ran from April 14th, 2010, to every kind of escape. Eventually I ended up in university for a new-found love in Earth sciences.
When I was sixteen years old, I made my first visit to the United States. It wasn't the first time I had been abroad. Like most English children, I learned French at school. And I had often been to France, so I was used to speaking a foreign language to people who didn't understand English. But when I went to America, I was really looking forward to having a nice easy holiday without any language problems.
How wrong I was! The misunderstanding began at the airport. I was looking for a public telephone to give my American friend Danny a call and tell her that I had arrived. A friendly old man saw me looking lost and asked if he could help me.
"Yes," I said, "I want to give my friend a ring."
"Well, that's nice," he said, "Are you getting married？But aren't you a bit young?"
"Who is talking about marriage?" I replied. "I only want to give my friend a ring to tell her I've arrived. Can you tell me where there is a phone box?"
"Oh!" he said, "There is a phone downstairs."
When at last we met, Danny explained the misunderstanding to me.
"Don't worry," she said to me, "I had so many difficulties at first. There are lots of words which the Americans use differently in meaning from British. You'll soon get used to all the funny things they say. Most of the time, British and American people understand each other!"
One day I got in a taxi, and we left for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when, suddenly, a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver stopped his car at once. The tire made a very loud noise, and at the very last moment our car stopped just one inch from the back of the other car.
I was frightened. But then I couldn't believe what happened next. The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident, turned his head and started yelling at us. I couldn't believe it! But my taxi driver just smiled at the guy. So I asked, "Why did you just do that? This guy almost sent us to hospital."
This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, "The Law of the Rubbish Truck." He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of rubbish, full of anger. As their rubbish piles up, they look for a place to throw it away and sometimes they'll throw it at you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their rubbish and spread it to other people at work, at home or on the streets.
Successful people never let rubbish trucks change their moods. Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so love those who love you and pray for those who don't.
Shortly after graduating in 2012, Dutch fashion designer Bas Timmer heard some upsetting news. While he had been busy drawing designs for his new brand, a friend's father, who was homeless, had died of hypothermia (体温过低) just meters away from his studio. The young man set aside his personal ambitions and instead used his design skills to create Sheltersuit—a jacket that doubles as a sleeping bag to protect the world's homeless against extreme weather.
To transform the coat into a sleeping bag, the wearer simply zips (用拉链拉上) on a second piece to the bottom. The suit's large hood (兜帽) helps protect against bright street lights at night, while a built-in scarf adds warmth and protection. When not in use, the "portable shelter" can be tucked away in the accompanying backpack.
The designer had originally intended to create a limited number of Sheltersuits and then go back to develop his clothing brand. "I thought, OK, I'm going to make 100," he says. However, demand for the product, which was an instant hit, has never stopped. Over the past four years, Timmer and his team have distributed 6, 000 Sheltersuits to the homeless in Europe.
To help pay for the production cost, Timmer set up the Sheltersuit Foundation, which accepts donations from both groups and individuals. Since March 2019, the team has also been using its factory to create clothing, bag and other things for paying customers.
Though Timmer's efforts are deserving to be praised，the special clothing is not the solution(解决) to this serious social issue, which is largely the result of income loss and the rising house prices in US cities like San Francisco and New York. Hopefully, governments, groups and individuals will come together to find a way to help the people that are down on their luck.
Recently, one of my best friends, whom I've shared just about everything with since the first day of kindergarten, spent the weekend with me. Since I moved to a new town several years ago, we've both always looked forward to the few times a year when we can see each other.
Over the weekend, we spent hours and hours, staying up late into the night, talking about the people she was hanging around with. She started telling me stories about her new boyfriend, about how he experimented with drugs and was into self-destructive behavior. I was blown away! She told me how she had been lying to her parents about where she was going and even stealing out to see this guy because they didn't want her around him. No matter how hard I tried to tell her that she deserved(值得) better, she didn't believe me. Her self-respect seemed to have disappeared.
By the time she left, I was really worried about her and exhausted by the experience. We'd been friends for far too long. I had to hope that she valued me enough to know that I was trying to save her from hurting herself. I wanted to believe that our friendship could conquer anything.
A few days later, she called to say that she had thought long and hard about our conversation，and then she told me that she had broken up with her boyfriend. I just listened on the other end of the phone with tears of joy running down my face. It was one of the truly rewarding moments in my life. Never had I been so proud of a friend.
As 17 -year-old Torri'ell Norwood drove through St. Petersburg, Florida, last February, the laughter and chatter from the teenage girls inside her car quickly gave way to screams. As they came near to a crossing, another car T-boned them, sending their black car sailing into the yard of a nearby home, coming to a stop only when it crashed into a tree.
As smoke rose from the other car, a bystander shouted, "It's about to blow up! Get out!" The impact had caved in Norwood's driver's side door, jamming it shut. Shaken, but otherwise OK, she crawled out through the window. Along with two of her friends, who'd also managed to free themselves, she ran for her life.
But halfway down the street, she realized that her best friend, A'zarria Simmons, wasn't with them. Norwood ran back to the badly-damaged car and found Simmons fall down in the back seat. "She wasn't moving, " Norwood told Inside Edition. She threw open the back door and pulled her friend out, avoiding the broken glass as best she could. She dragged Simmons a few feet to safety and laid her on the ground. "I checked her pulse. "Nothing. "I put my head against her chest." No sign of life. "That's when I started CPR."
Had the accident happened a few weeks earlier, she might not have known what to do. But Norwood, who wants to pursue a career in medicine, had earned her CPR certificate just the day before. Kneeling on the lawn and looking down at her dying friend, Norwood knew she had precious little time to practice what she'd learned.
She started pumping Simmons's chest with her interlocked fingers and breathing into her friend's mouth in hopes of filling her lungs with the kiss of life. No response. And then, after the 30th compression (加压), Simmons began coughing and gasping for air. The CPR had worked!
Soon, the ambulance arrived and rushed Simmons to the hospital, where she received stitches (缝合) in her forehead. And then she heard how her best friend had saved her life. "I wasn't shocked, " Simmons told CNN. "She will always help any way she can. "
200,000 miles from Earth, the crew of the third manned mission to the Moon faced an astronaut's worst nightmare: an explosion on the spacecraft. It's what happened in the Oscar-winning film Apollo 13, but it's also a true story.
The lift-off of Apollo 13 took place on 11th April 1970. Two days into the mission, the three-man crew were in big trouble. They had been carrying out routine checks when there was a loud bang. Warning lights were starting to flash. Looking out into space, they could see a trail of gas — the spacecraft was leaking oxygen. They sent out a short message to the scientists back on Earth: “Houston, we've had a problem here.” At first, they thought that a meteor（流星）had hit them, but they later found out that a short circuit（短路）had caused an oxygen container to explode. Whatever the cause, they knew there was no time to lose. Their electricity supply in the command module（指令舱）depended on that oxygen and pretty soon they would run out of both.
The only solution was to move into the lunar module — the section of the spacecraft that would have landed on the Moon. Now though, they were using it as a kind of lifeboat. With its own power supply, oxygen and water, the three men could survive in the lunar module and return to Earth. There was another problem though. In an enclosed space like a lunar module, the carbon dioxide the crew was breathing out was dangerous. The equipment to clear the air of carbon dioxide was only built for two people. Now it had to deal with three. Amazingly, the crew managed to build an adapter out of materials onboard to reduce the carbon dioxide to a safe level.
There was one final obstacle. The lunar module wasn't strong enough to reenter Earth's atmosphere so the crew had to go back into the damaged command module. To everyone's relief, the crew of Apollo 13 arrived safely in the South Pacific Ocean on April 17th. Although the crew didn't land on the Moon, NASA still considered the mission a success.
