Understanding life

It is cold, so bitter cold, on this dark, winter day in 1942. But it is no different from any other day in this Nazi concentration camp. I stand shivering in my thin rags, still in disbelief that this nightmare is happening. I am just a young boy. I should be playing with friends; I should be going to school; I should be looking forward to a future, to growing up and marrying, and having a family of my own. But those dreams are for the living, and I am no longer one of them. Instead, I am almost dead, surviving from day to day, from hour to hour, ever since I was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands other Jews. Will I still be alive tomorrow? Will I be taken to the gas chamber tonight?

Back and forth I walk next to the barbed wire fence, trying to keep my emaciated body warm. I am hungry, but I have been hungry for longer than I want to remember. I am always hungry. Edible food seems like a dream. Each day as more of us disappear, the happy past seems like a mere dream, and I sink deeper and deeper into despair. Suddenly, I notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the barbed wire. She stops and looks at me with sad eyes, eyes that seem to say that she understands, that she, too, cannot fathom why I am here. I want to look away, oddly ashamed for this stranger to see me like this, but I cannot tear my eyes from hers.

Then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a red apple. A beautiful, shiny red apple. Oh, how long has it been since I have seen one! She looks cautiously to the left and to the right, and then with a smile of triumph, quickly throws the apple over the fence. I run to pick it up, holding it in my trembling, frozen fingers. In my world of death, this apple is an expression of life, of love. I glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance.

The next day, I cannot help myself-I am drawn at the same time to that spot near the fence. Am I crazy for hoping she will come again? Of course. But in here, I cling to any tiny scrap of hope. She has given me hope and I must hold tightly to it.

And again, she comes. And again, she brings me an apple, flinging it over the fence with that same sweet smile.

This time I catch it, and hold it up for her to see. Her eyes twinkle. Does she pity me? Perhaps. I do not care, though. I am just so happy to gaze at her. And for the first time in so long, I feel my heart move with emotion.

For seven months, we meet like this. Sometimes we exchange a few words. Sometimes, just an apple. But she is feeding more than my belly, this angel from heaven. She is feeding my soul. And somehow, I know I am feeding hers as well.

One day, I hear frightening news: we are being shipped to another camp. This could mean the end for me. And it definitely means the end for me and my friend. The next day when I greet her, my heart is breaking, and I can barely speak as I say what must be said: "Do not bring me an apple tomorrow," I tell her. "I am being sent to another camp. We will never see each other again." Turning before I lose all control, I run away from the fence. I cannot bear to look back. If I did, I know she would see me standing there, with tears streaming down my face.

Months pass and the nightmare continues. But the memory of this girl sustains me through the terror, the pain, the hopelessness. Over and over in my mind, I see her face, her kind eyes, I hear her gentle words, I taste those apples.

And then one day, just like that, the nightmare is over. The war has ended. Those of us who are still alive are freed. I have lost everything that was precious to me, including my family. But I still have the memory of this girl, a memory I carry in my heart and gives me the will to go on as I move to America to start a new life. Years pass. It is 1957. I am living in New York City. A friend convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. Reluctantly, I agree. But she is nice, this woman named Roma. And like me, she is an immigrant, so we have at least that in common.

"Where were you during the war?" Roma asks me gently, in that delicate way immigrants ask one another questions about those years.

"I was in a concentration camp in Germany," I reply.

Roma gets a far away look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I am just thinking about something from my past, Herman," Roma explains in a voice suddenly very soft. "You see, when I was a young girl, I lived near a concentration camp. There was a boy there, a prisoner, and for a long while, I used to visit him every day. I remember I used to bring him apples. I would throw the apple over the fence, and he would be so happy."

Roma sighs heavily and continues. "It is hard to describe how we felt about each other-after all, we were young, and we only exchanged a few words when we could-but I can tell you, there was much love there. I assume he was killed like so many others. But I cannot bear to think that, and so I try to remember him as he was for those months we were given together."

With my heart pounding so loudly I think it wil1 explode, I look directly at Roma and ask, "And did that boy say to you one day, 'Do not bring me an apple tomorrow. I am being sent to another camp'?"

"Why, yes," Roma responds, her voice trembling.

"But, Herman, how on earth could you possibly know that?"

I take her hands in mine and answer, "Because I was that young boy, Roma."

For many moments, there is only silence. We cannot take our eyes from each other, and as the veils of time lift, we recognize the soul behind the eyes, the dear friend we once loved so much, whom we have never stopped loving, whom we have never stopped remembering.

Finally, I speak: "Look, Roma, I was separated from you once, and I don't ever want to be separated from you again. Now, I am free, and I want to be together with you forever. Dear, will you marry me?"

I see that same twinkle in her eye that I used to see as Roma says, "Yes, I will marry you," and we embrace, the embrace we longed to share for so many months, but barbed wire came between us. Now, nothing ever will again.

Almost forty years have passed since that day when I found my Roma again. Destiny brought us together the first time during the war to show me a promise of hope and now it had reunited us to fulfill that promise.

Valentine's Day, 1996. I bring Roma to the Oprah Winfrey Show to honor her on national television. I want to tell her in front of millions of people what I feel in my heart every day:

"Darling, you fed me in the concentration camp when I was hungry. And I am still hungry, for something I will never get enough of: I am only hungry for your love."

Thank you for your attention!

 I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am withyou。

No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is ,won't make you cry。

The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them。

Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile。

To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world。

Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you。

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have

Don't try to hard, the best things come when you least expect them to。

Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful。

Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened。

Thank you for your attention!

   Time flies.

   Thank Su jing, Lin yan, Zhu dan and Li E ! Thank you for your blessing!

   Thank you all my families and friends !

   Thank you for your attention!

  I know the blog will be going downhill if I don`t keep update. I want to spend some time in talking about only one thing.

  As is known to us, a friend in need is a friend indeed. I don`t think most people understand it really and truly. I am not exception. Until last week, I understood it indeed.

  I had to be in hospital because of disease last week. I didn`t publicize it widely. I told my parents and several reliable friends. My classmates also knew it inevitably. In addition, I thought nobody knew it.

   The days I was in hospital were boring and painful. I had to be given an injection every day. Before surgery I was alone and I was lonely. After operation, several friends and many classmates came to see me. I thank them very much ! Thank you for your care and support ! Hereon,  I want to  particularly thank these friends: Wei jiuzheng, Li E, Wang jin, Huang kaishou, Xin Yang, Zhu dan, Yang lingling. In addition, My parents and grandparents worried about me every moment. I was very guilty.

    A friend in need is a friend indeed. At last, Thank you again, my friends !

     The following story took place long ago in Israel. One day when government officials were rebuilding a barn, they found a mouse hole in a corner and used smoke to force the mice inside the hole to come out. A while later they indeed saw mice running out, one after another.

     Then, everyone thought that all the mice had escaped. But just as they just about to start to clean up, they saw two mice squeezing out at the exit of the hole. After some endeavor, the mice finally got out. The strange thing was that after they came out of the hole, they did not run away immediately. Instead, one chased after the other near the exit of the hole. It seemed that one was trying to bite the tail of the other.

     Everyone was puzzled, so they stepped closer to take a look. They realized that one of the mice was blind and could not see anything, and the other one was trying to allow the blind mouse to bite on his tail so he could pull the blind one with him to escape.

     After witnessing what happened, everyone was speechless and lost in thought. During meal time, the group of people sat down in a circle and started to chat about what happened to the two mice.

     One serious Rome official said: “I think the relationship between those two mice was that of emperor and minister.” The others thought for a while and said: “That was why!” Thus the Rome official showed his arrogance superciliously.

     A smart Israeli said: “I think the relationship between those two mice was husband and wife.” Again the others thought for a while, and all felt it made sense; so they expressed assent. Therefore, the Israeli’s countenance showed self-satisfaction.

     A Chinese, who was accustomed to the firm tradition of loyalty to parents, said: “I think the relationship between those two mice was that of mother and son.” Once again the others thought for a while, and felt this was more reasonable. So they expressed assent yet another time. Therefore, the face of the Chinese conveyed professional humility.

     At that moment, one pure-minded Samaritan who was squatted on the ground resting his chin in his palms, bewilderedly looked at other people, and asked: “Why did those two mice have to have a certain relationship?”

     Suddenly, the atmosphere froze. Stupefied, the group looked back at the Samaritan and remained speechless. The Rome official, the Israeli and the Chinese who had spoken earlier all lowered their heads in shame, and did not dare to respond.

     In fact, the true love is not established on benefit, friendship and loyalty or blood relationship. Instead, it is based on no relationship.

     Thank you for your attention!