I have a vivid memory of what happened， and it was not what I expected. I expected to be applauded for my cleverness and arithmetic skills. "Jeff， you're so smart. You had to have made some tricky estimates， figure out the number of minutes in a year and do some division." That's not what happened. Instead， my grandmother burst into tears. I sat in the backseat and did not know what to do. While my grandmother sat crying， my grandfather， who had been driving in silence， pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. He got out of the car and came around and opened my door and waited for me to follow. Was I in trouble？ My grandfather was a highly intelligent， quiet man. He had never said a harsh word to me， and maybe this was to be the first time？ Or maybe he would ask that I get back in the car and apologize to my grandmother. I had no experience in this realm with my grandparents and no way to gauge what the consequences might be. We stopped beside the trailer. My grandfather looked at me， and after a bit of silence， he gently and calmly said， "Jeff， one day you'll understand that it's harder to be kind than clever."

有的时候，一支亲切的乐曲，一处幽静地方的潺潺水声，一朵花的芳香，甚而只是说出一个熟悉的字眼，会突然唤起一些模糊的记忆，令人想起一些今生不曾出现过的场景，它们会像微风一样飘散，仿佛刹那间唤醒了对某种久已别离的、比较快乐的往事，而这种回忆单靠冥思苦想是怎么也想不起来的。