Father Time
硬笔字作品I lost my dad last year.
唐朝灭亡时间Sure, lots of memorable stuff happened to me in 2011. My daughters started first grade. I read and will never forget Unbroken. I did a pull-up for the first time!
But Dad’s passing? That defines last year for me. It signals a shift in all the many things uniquely us: Michigan football. Cleveland Stadium mustard. Knowing how to parallel park, change a tire, and balance a checkbook the “right way.” Handwritten letters on his Ludlow Antiques stationery to his homesick firstborn at U of M. An appreciation for Neil Diamond (shhh). And, did I mention, Michigan football?
夏至未至“Good job on the Today show, honey,” he’d say. “Very informative. Was that a new blou?”
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I came to realize the expan of the void when, late last fall, I got this job — the job of being the editor-in-chief of your Reader’s Digest, the most trusted magazine in America. I was humbled by the opportunity. Incredulous, really. I texted friends, war-dialed my sister. But first I told Mom, who said the one thing I needed to hear: “I wish your father were here. He would be so proud, honey.”世界为什么讨厌犹太人
That’s my intent, as I shepherd Reader’s Digest and its website, books, and apps through the coming years. I hope to do him — and you — proud. Oh, and I’ll try to keep the Michigan football stuff to a minimum. Though Tom Brady? Michigan. I’m just saying’.
The Titanic Coat: One Family’s Legend
In an inspiring follow-up to the Titanic story, Reader's Digest national affairs editor David Noonan tells of a family heirloom that survived the fatal tragedy on April 15, 1912.
My great uncle Denis O’Brien boarded the Titanic as a third-class pasnger at Queenstown, Ireland. He was 21, a jockey from County Cork who was offered a job riding hors for an American family. His older brother Michael, my grandfather, who had made his own trip across the Atlantic a few years earlier, was waiting for him in New York. In one version of the story—different family members recall hearing different details over the years—Michael nt Denis a proper overcoat so he wouldn’t look too poor when he came through Ellis Island. That may or may not be true. What we know for sure is that Denis didn’t make it, though his overcoat did.
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As the ship was sinking, Denis, who is sometimes listed as Timothy O’Brien in Titanic pasnger records, wrote a note to Michael. He gave the note and his overcoat to a woman in a lifeboat and asked her to e that his brother got them. She did. A photo of my grandfather wearing what we have always called “the Titanic coat” holds a special place in the family archives. In the picture, he looks small and dapper and not poor at all.
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No one knows what the note said—that part of the story got lost over the cour of the past hundred years—and I often wonder what few words Denis cho that night. I also wonder what he was thinking later, as he stood on that tilting deck with no coat and faced the end of his too-short life in that cold ocean, beneath tho cold stars.
The Night I Met Einstein
When I was a very young man, just beginning to make my way, I was invited to dine at the home of a distinguished New York philanthropist. After dinner, our hostess led us to an enormous drawing room. Other guests were pouring in, and my eyes beheld two unnerving sights: Servants were arranging small gilt chairs in long, neat rows; and up front, leaning against the wall, were musical instruments.
Apparently I was in for an evening of chamber music.
I u the phra “in for” becau music meant nothing to me. I am almost tone deaf—only with great effort can I carry the simplest tune, and rious music was to me no more than an arrangement of nois. So I did what I always did when trapped: I sat down, and when the music started, I fixed my face in what I hoped was an expression of intelligent appreciation, clod my ears from the inside, and submerged mylf in my own completely irrelevant thoughts.
After a while, becoming aware that the people around me were applauding, I concluded it was safe to unplug my ears. At once I heard a gentle but surprisingly penetrating voice on my right: “You are fond of Bach?”邓力群
I knew as much about Bach as I know about nuclear fission. But I did know one of the most famous faces in the world, with the renowned shock of untidy white hair and the ever-prent pipe between the teeth. I was sitting next to Albert Einstein.