双语杂志(页 1) - 墨香雅韵 - LoveUnix 最强AIX小机技术论坛,UNIX,Linux,存储,数据库,中间件,开发,管理

2004-2-4 11:44 月光下轻舞飞

Confidence Some people are born with the belief that they are masters of their own lives. Others feel they are at the mercy of fate. 　　New research shows that part of those feelings are in the genes. 　　Psychologists have long known that people confident in their ability to control their destinies are more likely to adjust well to growing old than those who feel that they drift on the currents of fate. 　　Two researchers who questioned hundreds of Swedish twins report that such confidence, or lark of it, is partly genetic and partly drawn from experience. 　　They also found that the belief in blind luck-a conviction that coincidence plays a big role in life is something learned in life and has nothing to do with heredity. 　　The research was conducted at the Karolinska Institute-better known as the body that annually awards the Nobel Prize for medicine by Nancy Pedersen of the Institute and Margaret Gatz, a professor of psychology at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Their results were recently published in the United States in the Journal of Gerontology. 　　People who are confident of their ability to control their lives have an "internal locus of control,"and have a better chance of being well adjusted in their old age, said Pedersen. 　　An "external locus of control," believing that outside forces determine the course of life, has been linked to depression in latter years, she said. 　　"We are trying to understand what makes people different. What makes some people age gracefully and others have a more difficult time?" she said. 　　The study showed that while people have an inborn predilection toward independence and self-confidence, about 70 percent of this personality trait is affected by a person's environment and lifetime experiences. 　　Pedersen's studies, with various collaborators, probe the aging process by comparing sets of twins, both identical and fraternal, many of whom were separated at an early age. 　　The subjects were drawn from a roster first compiled about 30 years ago registering all twins born in Sweden since 1886. The complete list, which was extended in 1971, has 95,000 sets of twins.

2004-2-4 11:46 月光下轻舞飞

OXFORD UNIVERSITY Oxford University once famously claimed to have been founded by Alfred the Great in the 9th Century, but in fact, the University as we know it today began to take shape in the 12th Century when English Scholars were exiled from Paris University and began to congregate at Oxford’s Abbeys and Priories, which were buy then already established centers of learning. Today, 39 independent, self-governing colleges are related to the University in a type of federal system. Each is governed by a Head of House and a number of Fellows, who are academics specializing in a wide variety of disciplines, most of whom also hold University posts. Across both the Arts and the Sciences, Oxford research consistently ranks top both nationally and internationally. As well as being in the forefront of scientific, medical and technological achievement, the University has strong links with research institutions and industrial concerns both in the United Kingdom and overseas. The University is income from externally funded research grants and contracts in 1996-7 totaled over ￡107 million. The University’s great age also allows its teaching staff and research students to draw on a heritage of magnificent library and museum collections. Students working for higher degrees are an important and valued part of Oxford University. They currently make up over a quarter of the total student body of 15,641, drawn by the excellent facilities for research, which the University can offer; therefore the proportion of graduate students is increasing. In all these fields, Oxford attracts scholars from many parts of the world to join its teaching and research staff, and also values important role of overseas graduate students (approximately one third of the total graduate body) in providing intellectual stimulation and creating and maintaining academic links with colleges abroad. To gain entry into the University, students must first win a place by competitive examination at one of the colleges, which have their own admissions policies. The procedure for applications varies according to the subject you propose to study. There are no final deadlines for most applications, unless specified in a particular subject section, but there are many more applications than places available, and the process of acceptance by both faculty board and college can take some time; early application is therefore strongly advised.

2004-2-4 11:50 月光下轻舞飞

Bringing It All Back Home How China's returning students are a force for reform Edward Tian said good-bye to Lubbock, Tex., his pickup truck, horseback riding, and seven years of studying broom snakeweed to return to Beijing in 1995. He took home a Texas Tech University doctorate in range management and a small Internet software company that he co-founded in Dallas. Now the company, Asia info, has $50 million in annual sales and 400 employees and is building much of China’s Internet backbone. “I wanted to do something to change people’s lives in the next five years, not the next 200 years,” says Tian, now 35. Tens of thousands of Chinese who studied in the U.S. have the same idea. Mostly in their 30s and 40s, they are the new dynamos in China’s fast-reforming economy. Many, like Tian, are starting entrepreneurial companies. Some are running economics departments at major Chinese schools. Others are advising banks, stock markets, and government ministries how to adapt to the global economy. The returnees come back with much more than salable skills. They have a grasp of how the outside world works that stay-at-home Chinese don’t. Massachusetts Institute of Technology doctoral physicist Charles Zhang, 33, for example, is trying to steer Beijing away from the heavy-handed state planning used by South Korea and Japan. “The entrepreneurial, market-driven approach is what makes good technology,” he says. Furthermore, Zhang and people like him open new private channels between the U.S. and China. His company, Internet Technologies China Inc., is a gateway into China for U.S. and other foreign companies. Microsoft, Hewlett-Packard, Motorola, and Ericsson, for instance, all advertise on ITC’s Web site, one of the most popular in China with 280,000 hits per day. Even more important, outfits such as Zhang’s are a promising new way of piping foreign investment into China. Traditionally, such inflows have been filtered through clumsy and one-sided joint ventures in which foreigners have few rights. ITC, however, was set up with $225,000 in seed money from MIT professors, including Nicholas Negro Ponte, founding director of the MIT Media Laboratory and co-founder of Wired magazine. Zhang received $2 million more investment from Intel Corp. And other U.S. companies in March. China needs more than entrepreneurial drive, however. Rebuilding the superstructure of a modern market economy is essential. Returnees such as former New York Stock Exchange economist Wang Boming, 42, are key architects in the restoration. For a fraction of his Wall Street salary, he joined a team to set up China’s new stock exchanges in 1988. These days, he is a publisher “trying to educate people how to manage their wealth.” As reforms succeed, Western-educated Chinese will start to move into senior government jobs. Zhang Xiang, 57, armed with a PhD in economics from New York’s Columbia University, became vice-minister at the Foreign Trade & Economic Cooperation Ministry this year. He may be able to avoid Sino-U.S. misunderstandings. The returnees’ biggest impact may be in opening up China to a flow of new ideas. U.S.-minted doctoral economists are remaking China’s university departments. Leading the way is Beijing University’s prestigious China Center for Economic Research. The Center’s influence extends far beyond its campus. Faculty, all Western-educated, are favorite invitees to panels debating economic policy. “We try to provide an independent view to Chinese leaders,” says Deputy Director Hai Wen, 46, a University of California at Davis alum. Those from the the classes of 1998 and onward who do go home could have a dramatic impact on China’s future. Their predecessors are getting things started, but they need all the help they can get.

2004-2-4 11:56 月光下轻舞飞

The Smile Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other―it doesn’t matter who it is―and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other. Many Americans are familiar with The Little Prince, a wonderful book by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. This is a whimsical and fabulous book and works as a children’s story as well as a thought-provoking adult fable. Far fewer are aware of Saint-Exupery’s other writings, novels and short stories. Saint-Exupery was a fighter pilot who fought against the Nazis and was killed in action. Before World War II, he fought in the Spanish Civil War against the fascists. He wrote a fascinating story based on that experience entitled The Smile. It is this story which I’d like to share with you now. It isn’t clear whether or not he meant this to be autobiographical or fiction. I choose to believe it to be the former. He said that he was captured by the enemy and thrown into a jail cell. He was sure that from the contemptuous looks and rough treatment he received from his jailers he would be executed the next day. From here, I’ll tell the story as I remember it in my own words. “I was sure that I was to be killed. I became terribly nervous and distraught. I fumbled in my pockets to see if there were any cigarettes, which had escaped their search. I found one and because of my shaking hands, I could barely get it to my lips. But I had no matches, they had taken those. “I looked through the bars at my jailer. He did not make eye contact with me. After all, one does not make eye contact with a thing, a corpse. I called out to him ‘Have you got a light?’ He looked at me, shrugged and came over to light my cigarette. “As he came close and lit the match, his eyes inadvertently locked with mine. At that moment, I smiled. I don’t know why I did that. Perhaps it was nervousness, perhaps it was because, when you get very close, one to another, it is very hard not to smile. In any case, I smiled. In that instant, it was as though a spark jumped across the gap between our two hearts, our two human souls. I know he didn’t want to, but my smile leaped through the bars and generated a smile on his lips, too. He lit my cigarette but stayed near, looking at me directly in the eyes and continuing to smile. “I kept smiling at him, now aware of him as a person and not just a jailer. And his looking at me seemed to have a new dimension, too. ‘Do you have kids?’ he asked. “ ‘Yes, here, here.’ I took out my wallet and nervously fumbled for the pictures of my family. He, too, took out the pictures of his family and began to talk about his plans and hopes for them. My eyes filled with tears. I said that I feared that I’d never see my family again, never have the chance to see them grow up. Tears came to his eyes, too. Suddenly, without another word, he unlocked my cell and silently led me out. Out of the jail, quietly and by back routes, out of the town. There, at the edge of town, he released me. And without another word, he turned back toward the town. My life was saved by a smile. Yes, the smile―the unaffected, unplanned, natural connection between people. I tell this story in my work because I’d like people to consider that underneath all the layers we construct to protect ourselves, our dignity, our titles, our degrees, our status and our need to be seen in certain ways―underneath all that, remains the authentic, essential self. I’m not afraid to call it the soul. I really believe that if that part of you and that part of me could recognize each other, we wouldn’t be enemies. We couldn’t have hate or envy or fear. I sadly conclude that all those other layers, which we so carefully construct through our lives, distance and insulate us from truly contacting others. Saint-Exupery’s story speaks of that magic moment when two souls recognize each other. I’ve had just a few moments like that. Falling in love is one example. And looking at a baby. Why do we smile when we see a baby? Perhaps it’s because we see someone without all the defensive layers, someone whose smile for us we know to be fully genuine and without guile. And that baby-soul inside us smiles wistfully in recognition.

2004-2-4 13:13 月光下轻舞飞

To Win at Marriage, Learn to lose Having been married for more than 40 years, I can attest to the truth of the following statement: to excel in the art of domestic argument, one must master the art of losing. Modern psychologists are taken with the “win-win” solution. But in marriage, success resides more in “lose-lose” solutions. Out of these, both parties can win. For in the love configuration, losing gives a gift that always returns. One day shortly after my wife and I were married, we set about picking new living-room wallpaper from a book of samples. My taste and hers were at odds I like this one,” she said. “That looks like a section of a diseased liver.” “How can you say that? This is a classical pattern that goes all the way back to the Venetian.” “The Venetian were blind. They named blinds after them, remember? I like this one.” “I wouldn’t hang that in hell if I were the devil.” <img src='style_emoticons/default/grin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='grin.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/grin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='grin.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/grin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='grin.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/grin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='grin.gif' /> As the argument went on, my wife suddenly slammed the book shut. “There are over two hundred samples in this book,” she declared. “I say we spend our energy finding one that suits us both, instead of bickering over the ones we don’t like.” And that’s how we settled it. Eventually we found a pattern we both liked. The “wallpaper book” became our symbol for settling the myriad issues that arise in marriage. “Well,” she’d say when we couldn’t agree on furniture or a place to vacation, “there are plenty of samples in the wallpaper book.” The issues that people argue over most in marriage, such as how to spend money, often aren’t the real ones. The key issue is: who is going to be in control? When I was younger, my need to control arose out of fear, a lack of trust, insecurity. The day I finally realized I didn’t need to control my wife—that, indeed, I ought not control her, that I couldn’t control her, and that if I tried to, I would destroy our marriage—was the day our marriage began. Giving up control is often confused with weakness. But the winner in a domestic argument is never really the winner. When you win a battle and your partner submits, you have, paradoxically, lost. What is it we want most from a marriage? To love and be loved. To be happy and secure. To grow, to discover. A love relationship is the garden in which we plant, cultivate and harvest the most precious of crops, our own self, and in which our spouse is provided the same rich soil in which to bloom. We cannot obtain what we want unless our partner also gets what he or she wants. A woman may, for instance, want to go to the symphony. Her husband might hate symphonies. But by spending a few hours listening to music he doesn’t care for, he can bring joy to his partner. That’s a pretty cheap price to pay for joy, isn’t it? But what if a husband wants to go on a fishing trip with friends? Suddenly there aren’t a lot of samples in the wallpaper book: his wife either agrees or not. Already you can hear the usual power strategies: “I’ll spend my money any way I please,” or “How come you’re such a millstone? Jim’s wife is happy that he gets to go.” Instead of such strategies, he might try empowering his partner: “Honey, I’d like to go on a fishing trip with the boys. What do you think?” “I thought we were going away.” “How about this fall? I’ve always wanted to take a trip with you to see the fall foliage in New England.” “Good idea. I’ll go see my mother while you’re fishing.” Such a dialogue, as idealistic as it sounds, is born of a marriage of mature adults. But what if she says, “You always make promises you never keep. This fall there will be some excuse. I think you owe me a trip first”? Now he must decide. Is she right? She could be, you know. When the couple arrives at this juncture, it’s time for him to listen. When anger is hurled at us, it hurts us. If it were a pistol, I would insist anger, like control, be checked at the door. But anger can also be a response to pain. So when your spouse responds in anger, you must terminate the argument. It’s that simple: the argument must end because another person may be in pain. When anger is hurled at us, it hurts us. If it were a pistol, I would insist anger, like control, be checked at the door. But anger can also be a response to pain. So when your spouse responds in anger, you must terminate the argument. It’s that simple: the argument must end because another person may be in pain. Perhaps she’ll tell you why she’s hurt—angrily. Try not to be put off, but to hear the anger as sounds of hurt. When you discover the pain, you can address its cause, and the anger will begin to fade. You’re allowed to get angry too. But dumping anger on your partner is a poor way to soothe your hurt. When you talk of your hurt without anger, an unangry response usually comes. So remember: If you want to overcome anger in your relationship, search for the hurt. If you want to feel loved and respected, give up control. And if you want to win arguments at home, learn to lose them.

2004-2-6 10:26 月光下轻舞飞

China Gets Wired It is a narrow room, a meter and a half wide, decorated『装饰；布置』with the awkward『令人尴尬的；不合适的』minimalism『抽象派艺术』, peeling『剥落；脱落』white paint, tilting『倾斜；翘起』buffet『自助餐』tables, schoolroom chairs bolted『用螺栓拴紧』together into haphazard『杂乱的；随意的』couches『沙发』.But the attraction here isn’t the decor『装饰；布置』; it’s the machines: a beige『米色的』Compaq Proliant 2500 computer and an off-white Dell Power edge, hooked『钩进；钩住』into a refrigerator-size rack of network routers『路由器（连接数个区域网络的中继装置）』and, from there, via a thumb-thick『拇指粗的』black cable, to the infinite『无限的；无边的』abundance『丰富』of the Internet. Edward Zeng, the 35-year-old Chinese entrepreneur, can’t resist『忍住；抵抗』a grin『露齿的笑；咧嘴的笑』as he looks around the modest『不太大的；适度的』but astonishing『令人惊异的；令人吃惊的』room buried within a warren of offices in the bunker-like hallways『象地下室样的过道』under Beijing’s Capital Stadium. “Welcome to ground zero,” he says. There is very little you cannot reach from Zeng’s tiny room. Zeng’s 1,000 Internet subscribers『预定者；认购者』can dial into his computers from all over Beijing and connect nearly limitlessly『无限地；没有边界地』to the electronic world. They can send e-mail, photos and news of China. And they can receive practically『差不多；几乎』anything else. At night, hundreds of Chinese who don’t own a PC crowd into『蜂拥而入』Zeng’s six Internet Cafes, where Net time retails『零售』for $3.6 an hour. It’s fast food for the information age. This is China? That shows that Beijing has settled on『确立；确定』a policy for the Net that is as bold as it is surprising. A rising generation of Western-educated『接受西方教育的』officials is pressing『催促；劝说』home the argument that the Net is the perfect vehicle to transport the Middle Kingdom into the 21st century. “The Chinese get the Net, O.K.?” says Sean Maloney, who ran Intel’s Asia-Pacific operations for three years. “China is going to be unrecognizable『无法认出的；不能识别的』in five years. And a large part of that change is going to come through『显露』the Internet and onto computer screens.” In January the Chinese government approved『批准』a new series of laws designed『设计；计划』to control how citizens connect to the Internet. But although the laws featured『以……为特色』the usual restrictive『约束的；限制性的』rhetoric『辞令；言语』, they were clearly designed not to keep the Chinese off the Net but to get them online in an orderly way. The official curiosity『好奇心』about the power of the Internet, have Beijing buzzing『唧唧喳喳』these days. From dinner parties given by top officials at the Great Hall of the People to bull『通过』sessions『会议』among young technocrat『技术专家官员』planners , the conversation has shifted from how to control the Net to how to exploit it. “The government is betting『断定；确信』that PCs and the Net can help competitiveness,” says Thomas Lin, a Beijing-based product manager for Microsoft. “Now they want them on every desk. And in every home. Every rich promise you’ve ever heard about digital technology sounds even more beguiling『使陶醉；使着迷』in China. The country has 350 million children to educate—what better vehicle than interactive『相互作用的』television? The Finance Ministry needs to establish『建立』bank and savings accounts for china’s 284 million workers—what more effective solution『办法；解答』than smart cards『智能卡』? Agricultural planners dream of more productive Chinese farms—how better to send weather and agro-science『农业科技』information to 323 million farmers than over the Web? To tap 『开发』these benefits, China has embarked『开始』on a series of nine “golden projects” that will shotgun『射击』state-of-the–art 『先进的；时髦的』technology into every field from health care to finance. By 2010 hundreds of millions of Chinese will be wired to the Golden Bridge financial network, carrying Golden Card smart cards and automatically forking『付出』over a chunk『相当大的部分』of their salaries to the government via a microchip-enabled『装有微芯片而具有某种功能的』Golden Tax. Says Bryan Nelson, Microsoft’s commanding general in the region: “China is going to be the ultimate『最后的；最终的』proof of all that the Internet can do. And the amazing thing is, the Chinese seem to understand that. Better than some people in the West, actually.” At a recent dinner in Beijing, Jim Jarrett, Intel’s president for china, sat next to an eighty something woman whose 80-plus husband is a senior Chinese official. “She told me the first thing her husband does every morning is start up his computer and sign onto『开始工作』the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times,” he says. “That’s his window on the world.” The window is still small—only 300,000 Chinese have access『路径；接口』to the Internet, vs. some 25 million in the U.S.—but it is opening quickly. Officials at China’s Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications say they hope to have 4 million Chinese connected by the year 2000. At the same time, access to the outside world from China has quadrupled『成为4倍』this year. China would become one big, self-contained『独立性的』Internet—what techies『电子学家；电子迷』like to call an intranet『一种企业内部的internet』— sealed off『封锁』from the rest of the world. Says a Hong Kong engineer who has worked with China on high-level information policy for two decades: “The Chinese worry about the Net. Will it just be an inundation『淹没；泛滥』of Western content『内容』, or will it reflect Chinese culture? China has every right to find a balance between local and foreign content.” That’s a balance the most nimble『敏捷的；灵巧的』Chinese gymnast『体操运动员』would find tough to maintain. The Net, after all, is designed to be open. And if the idea of the Web is to make Chinese firms more competitive, that means letting them have access to everything from DuPont’s chemicals website『电脑网站』to the U.S. Patent Office’s listing of new inventions. Even the most vigorous『精力充沛的；强有力的』Net proponents『提议人；拥护者』argue for a bit of patience. “Some control is needed at this point, because otherwise China would go wild,” says UTStarcom’s Hong Lu. “If you just jump too fast, it’s not good.” Smarter, better-informed businessmen may be more competitive in the new global economy.

2004-2-6 11:02 月光下轻舞飞

And Now, Extreme Recruiting Despite the global crisis, the struggle to hire top MBAs is as fierce as ever - for now The stock market is plummeting.The worldwide financial crisis deepens by the day. Corporate profits are slumping『下跌；下降』as companies from Gillette to 3M to Hewlett-Packard struggle with『挣扎；艰难地进行』the double whammy『致命打击』of sharply lowered demand and a higher dollar. And the finance industry— which hired 35% of all MBA graduates in the Class of ’98—has been particularly hard hit, with the worst yet to come. Given the carnage『大屠杀』, you might think that the booming『景气好的；大受欢迎的』 market seen in recent years for newly minted『刚完成的』MBAs is collapsing as well. But so far, you'd be wrong. Despite growing fears that the global financial turmoil『骚乱；混乱』could push the U. S. economy into layoffs『失业；裁员』and recession『衰退；倒退』, corporate recruiters『招聘人员』say that for now, the battle to hire top-quality MBAs remains as tough and competitive as ever. And make no mistake about it: It is a battle. Spend a day with Catherine H. Baker, vice-president in charge of worldwide recruiting at Mercer Management Consulting Inc., and that much is clear. Sure, as she and her team of Mercer MBAs head for a Sept. 22 presentation『赠送礼物』to first- and second-year students at the Wharton School, they're riding a Metro-liner from Washington, D. C., to Philadelphia, rather than a warship『军舰；舰艇』. But there's no doubt that the Wharton trip is the first shot in a long campaign『战役』for what continue to be some of the most sought-after『受欢迎的』trophies 『战利品；奖品』of the late 1990s: graduating MBAs. The reason is simple. Thanks to a tight job market for top managers in recent years, most of the leverage『力量；影响力』in the job-search mating『相配』dance has shifted『转移；移动』from recruiters『招募人员』to students. The average member of the Class of 1998 at Business Week's top 25 B-schools boasted『包含；拥有』3.2 job offers, up from 2.3 in 1992. The median starting salary-plus-bonus『奖金；额外补助』rose to $ 91,560 this year, up 19% from two years ago. That doesn't include extras–ranging『额外报酬』from free rent to stock options to tuition paybacks-worth a median $19,860. “The competition for MBAs has definitely quickened『加快；活跃』,” says David L. Reed, director of global recruiting at Andersen Consulting. “It's as fierce as I've ever seen it" He and others say that there is little reason to expect change, despite the global gloom『阴暗；昏暗』and doom『厄运；毁灭』. In part, that's because companies are very happy with the skills today's MBAs possess『拥有；具有』.They have a rare mix of financial, technical, and communications skills that companies have trouble finding in engineers or other degree holders. As costly as MBAs are, they're still cheaper than they will be later, when things improve. “You're making a long-term investment,” says Peter D. Kiernan, co-head of the recruiting committee at Goldman, Sachs & Co. and co-chair of the communications, media, and entertainment banking group. “It's an illusion『幻想；错觉』to think you can cut bank now and be in a strong position when the markets begin to recover『恢复；复兴』.” Indeed, thanks to the intense rivalry『竞争；对抗』between the consulting『咨询』and investment-banking firms, things look no different on the front lines than they've looked all year. The two fields pay the most, and—no surprise here—hire the most MBAs. In the Class of 1998, 63.3% chose one of the two industries. That has made Baker's job even tougher, Mercer has developed a strategy『战略』that resembles a brand ,aimed at different “sales channels”. Baker also targets students, for example, she now works extra hard to get first-year students to take summer internships『实习期』 . For schools and recruiters alike, the rush begins in the fall, when scores of companies hurry to the campus to peddle『宣扬；散播』their charms. The preemptive『先发制人的』tactic is gaining favor. Some are now also holding meetings on broader subjects in which high - level execs『管理人员』present their firms' ideas - and drum their brands into the minds of young MBAs. But getting in the door early and often is only the first phase of the fight. Some recruiters have also begun extending offers as quickly as possible in the fall in hopes of keeping targets『目标；对象』from succumbing『屈服』to later temptations『引诱；诱惑』. Sweeteners sometimes used by consultants and banks include tuition reimbursement『补偿』for second-year students who sign early to preempt『先占有；先取得』the competition . Adding to the intensity『强烈；激烈』was the increase in the number of students who rejected『拒绝』Corporate America for small startups『刚开始的；新成立的』and entrepreneurial『创业者的』ventures. Although the numbers remain small overall—4.5% in the top 25 schools—there were particularly large clusters『群；组』at West Coast schools, where many students headed for Silicon Valley. Even the most selective『有选择性的』firms had trouble: Goldman Sachs got acceptances from only 40% of its Stanford offers, relative to 80% at other top schools.

2004-2-6 11:40 月光下轻舞飞

Afraid of Your Computer Sue Barrows was enthusiastic『热情的；热中的』when, at age 37, she went back to college to study broadcasting communications. But as she came face to face with the computers involved in video production and editing, she wondered if she'd made a mistake. What Barrows lacked in computer savvy『一般常识；实际知识』, she made up for『补回；弥补』in stick-to-itiveness『坚定不移；不屈不挠』. Nine years later, she has an award-winning video company, Barrows Productions, and uses not one but two computers in her home office. Barrows's initial『最初的；最早的』apprehension『忧虑；不安』wasn't unusual. A ten-year study completed in 1993 by Dell Computer Corp. underlined『表明；强调』fear of technology—computers in particular—as the phobia『恐惧感；恐惧症』of the 1990s. “The current fear figure,” says California State University psychology『心理学』professor Larry D. Rosen, “is 30 to 40 percent.” For many people, avoiding the computer isn't an option『选择；选择自由』. Since 1984 the number of jobs that require one has risen from 25 to 46 percent. More than 70 percent of management positions now demand computer literacy. Still, almost half the white-collar workers in a 1994 MCI - Gallup survey identified『定义』themselves as “cyberphobic." But becoming computer competent『有能力的』is easier than people think. Experts suggest these steps: Don't be snowed by jargon. <img src='style_emoticons/default/grin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='grin.gif' /> When you shop for a computer, decide what you'd like to do with it and list those goals, says Kris Jamsa, author of Welcome to Personal Computers. Then, if a salesperson asks an obscure『模糊的；不明白的』question—such as “How many megahertz do you want?”—respond: “I don't know. You tell me what I need to accomplish my goals, which are…” The salesperson should be able to answer in plain English. And don't worry about your choice becoming obsolete『过时的；旧式的』. Focus on meeting your needs for the next few years. Once you get your computer home, learn just enough basic lingo『术语；行话』to get going. “If you were going to become a carpenter, your first project wouldn't be to build a house. You'd start with something simple, like a bench or birdhouse,” says computer expert Robin Williams. “It's the same with the computer. You'd learn as you were faced with new tasks.” You don't need to know the technical details of your computer any more than you need to understand the technology behind your microwave oven. “Don't get bogged down『陷入』in a hefty『沉重的；厚的』computer manual,” advises Joe Kraynak, author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to PCs. “Go ahead and flip『轻弹；轻击』the switch, click and move the mouse.” For some people, the biggest obstacle『障碍；阻碍』to pressing that first computer key is the fear of hitting the wrong one. “Don't worry about your mistakes,” says Dick Shoemaker, founder of the National PC. Users Group in Lemont, Pa. “Your computer won't remember how many wrong keys you press—unless you ask it to.” Adds Kraynak, “Don't worry about losing information. Most computer programs have a feature that can retrieve『恢复；找回』lost data or undo『取消；解除』the previous command.” Take a step at a time. According to Jamsa, if you master just three specific tasks—saving and printing a document, sending and receiving e-mail, and browsing『浏览』the World Wide Web—you'll be as computer proficient as most of the population. Editor Carol Kutscher of Plainview, N. Y., had been using a manual『手动的；用手操作的』typewriter when her husband brought home their first computer in 1987. Her initial response —“Do we really need this thing?”—was prompted『刺激；驱使』by fear that she'd never learn to use it. But Kutscher took it slow and learned the basics. Now, as an insurance-claims examiner, she uses another computer system. Whenever she feels stumped『困惑；难倒』by a procedure, Kutscher jots『草草记下』notes on “cheat sheets” until she remembers it easily on her own. Ask for help. To find a teacher, consider joining a user group, which can be community-based or a national association. Typically charging annual dues『费用』of less than $ 30 a year, user groups can offer free consultations『咨询；咨询服务』and provide networking opportunities. If you attend user meetings, hook up with someone you can comfortably communicate with. “The best person to learn from may not be the most knowledgeable,” Jamsa explains. Someone who has recently learned the things you'd like to learn might be best in tune with your needs. Clifford Porter, a reference librarian in Rockville, Md., took a basic computer-skills class, then got one-on-one help from her college son John. He would walk her through each process until she was comfortable. Today Clifford is secretary of the Capital PC User Group in Rockville. To find a user group in your area, call your local college computer center, ask the staff at a local computer store or talk to your librarian. Overcoming you apprehension of computers may enrich your life in ways you'd never imagined. Successful attorney John Sullivan had always had a secretary. When he returned to school and had to use a computer for the first time, his typo-filled papers made him feel inept『愚蠢的；笨拙的』. Today he's building a computer-based legal-research business in Monroe, Wis. “What a great feeling it is to know you're computer proficient,” he says. “Now others are coming to me for help.”

2004-2-6 16:37 月光下轻舞飞

Simplify Your Life and free up time to do what you love most Two years ago Shirley Michels of St. Louis found herself getting up earlier and earlier, and going to bed later and later, just to meet everyday demands. The wife, mother and ophthalmic technician met her responsibilities『责职；任务』, but lacked time for the things that mattered most. She and her husband, Vic, an attorney, began searching for ways to simplify『简化；精简』their lives. “We had to decide what was really important,” says Shirley. They knew they wanted more time to play with their three-year-old son, Ryan, to exercise and eat right, and to nurture『培育；养育』friendships. So the couple chose to live more modestly『适中的；适度的』, shopping with care for necessities and enjoying inexpensive pleasures such as reading, cooking and going to the park. Shirley quit her job and began working part time from home. She printed up business cards that read “At your service—buy yourself a little time,” and hired herself out for personal tasks such as shopping, paying bills, organizing parties, doing Internet research—whatever clients needed. “I still work hard, but being able to control my hours makes all the difference,” she says. “I can carve out『（雕）刻出；开辟出』time to take my son to the zoo or play basketball with him. My stress headaches are gone. Having a chance to get to know neighbors not only has been fun, but it’s also helped us further simplify. According to trend watchers『趋势；时尚』, the Michelses are far from『完全不』 alone in wanting to slow down『减速』 and live a more satisfying life. A Gallup Poll found that half of all Americans claim they lack enough time to do what they want. Fifty-four percent of parents say they spend too little time with their children, and 47 percent of married couples complain that they lack time together. Where does the time go? For most people, work and commuting『（口语）通勤』dominate『在……中占主要部分』the day. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, one out of five of us put in 49 or more hours a week on the job; one out of 12 logged 60 hours or more. Then there’s the rich smorgasbord of modern life—so much information to sift through, so many products beckoning. “We’re wearing ourselves out『wear out:（使）疲乏；（使）厌倦』trying to have it all,” says Elaine St. James, author of Living the Simple Life. Simplifying means becoming aware of the ways, big and small, that we expend money, time and energy, and then raking steps to curb the waste. Here, from the experts, are some suggestions for gaining control over life’s hassles in order to have time for the pleasures. Start the Day Right Before she applied “the rule,” mornings were a trial for Baltimore teacher Claudia Bowe, mother of Alex, 11, and Clara, nine. “The kids, my husband and I had to leave every day at exactly 7:45. Invariably『一定的；总是』, books would be missing. My son isn’t a morning person, so he was dazed『晕眩的；茫然的』and at his worst when I needed him to be most efficient. By the time we were off, we were all in bad moods. We had to change our habits. Bowe’s rule? Do everything possible the night before to prepare for the next day. For instance, get a coffee maker that can be timed to start brewing when you wake up. Decide what to wear, including belts and socks; check for spots, wrinkles, missing buttons. Children can set the table with bowls, spoons and cereal boxes—everything but the milk. “Provide a list of items kids need for school the next morning—homework, library books, lunch money,—and have them check them off before getting into bed every night,” suggests organizational expert Ann Gambrell, owner of Creative Time Plus in Torrance, Calif. Set anything to be carried out into the world—backpacks, dry cleaning—in front of the door. Always put keys in the same place. Studies show that the average『平均；平均数』adult spends 16 hours a year searching for lost keys. Declutter Your Home “Every possession you buy requires tending,” says Don Aslett, author of Clutter’s Last Stand. “Every chair, blouse, stationary bike, candlestick must be dusted, guarded, stored, repaired. Freeing yourself from unnecessary possessions frees up time.” To overcome『战胜；克服』the hoarder『贮藏者；囤积者』inside screaming “I may need this,” Smith College psychologist Randy O. Frost advises talking back to yourself. “I’ll never use this twisted『古怪的；滑稽的』umbrella. New ones cost only six dollars.” Or, “Yes, I may need this leftover『残余的；剩下的』wallpaper someday, but am I going to save everything I might need someday? If so, maybe I should rent a warehouse. San Francisco cleaning expert Jeff Campbell, author of Clutter Control, advises clients drowning『淹没；浸湿』in debris『垃圾；碎片』—but who seem unable to part with『放弃』 so much as a stray screw—to start small. Do one drawer, one shelf, at a time. If it’s broken, fix it or toss it. If it doesn’t fit, alter『修改；改变』it or give it away. Cultivating『培养；陶冶』just one good habit can prevent『防止；预防』clutter from accumulating『累积；积聚』: don’t put anything down “for now.” Don’t leave jackets on chairs or glasses in the sink “for now.” As Mom said, “Don’t put it down, put it away.” To do otherwise『否则；不然』means handling everything more than once. When Lyn Petit from Ridgewood, N. J., was a stay-at-home『不出门的；经常呆在家里的』mom to her two daughters, Sarah, ten, and Elizabeth, 12, she taught Sunday school, helped run a thrift shop『节俭商店；慈善性二手货商店』and chaired just about any committee she was invited to take on. After returning to her job as a floral designer, she continued trying to do it all. Eventually her impossible schedule led to anxiety attacks『（疾病等的）发作；（工作等的）开始、着手』, which forced her to prioritize『把事情按优先顺序排好』and limit her volunteer work to the Girl Scouts and PTA. Now the family sits down to dinner together every night. Petit is there to help with homework, and she says, “It’s great to get to know my husband again.” “No is a two-letter word that can free up many hours a week,” says Elaine St. James. Say it gently but immediately, offering a brief explanation, such as “I just don’t have time.” Avoid giving detailed excuses—the other person is likely to see a way you actually could fit in the request. Don’t Save Pennies and Waste Hours Most of us are taught to watch『小心；留意』money, but not to value『重视；珍视』time,” says Andrea Van Steenhouse, author of A Woman’s Guide to a Simpler Life. “As a result, we may not even think about how much irreplaceable『不能调换的』time we waste to save a few pennies.” Is it worth it to wander『闲逛；徘徊』through a giant discount『折扣；打折扣』mart, searching for picture hangers, when the neighborhood hard ware-store owner would point to them immediately? To wait for takeout『外卖』at the restaurant when delivery is available for a small tip? Rather than dismiss『不考虑；抛弃』the idea with the words “I can’t afford that,” it may pay to think twice. Encourage Your Kids to Help Stephanie Culp is a productivity consultant『咨询者；顾问』in Temecula, Calif., and author of You Can Find More Time for Yourself Every Day. Her golden rule for families: except for babies, no one is exempt from『免除』housework. Three to four-year-olds can fill Rover’s bowl or fetch the baby’s diapers. Five- to seven- year- olds can set tables, make beds, sweep walks. Children eight to 12 can weed, dust, take out the trash. Let kids know in advance『事先；预先』what’s expected of them. Posting a rotating『轮流；轮换』chore list that spells out『详细说明』who does what prevents squabbles『争吵；口角』such as “It’s not my turn to clear the table.” Be prepared to reduce expectations at first—a poorly made bed is a lot better than one left unmade. But if the bed- making is particularly pathetic『乏味的；令人生厌的』, it may be a sabotage maneuver『策略；花招』. Stick to your guns, says Culp. If you give in, your child, having savored『滋味；趣味』the victory of upward delegation『委派；授权』, may use the same tactic『战术；策略；手法』to get out of other chores. Americans average 16 hours a week watching TV, making it the nation’s dominant『占优势的；支配的』leisure 『空闲的；业余的』activity. “Yet it’s a pastime few see as important or even enjoyable,” says John P. Robinson, director of the Americans’ Use of Time Project at the University of Maryland. “Life would be simpler for a lot of people if they could reclaim『回收利用』even a third of the time they spend semihypnotized『着迷的；恍惚的』in front of the tube.” Robinson and other experts suggest families schedule activities before consulting a TV guide. Decide what programs to watch, tape them and promptly『迅速的；立即的』turn off the set after replaying. Have certain times—during meals, on Sunday afternoons—when TV is never allowed. The payoff『收益』for all this simplifying? You’ll free up time to do what you love most, whether it’s playing with the kids, gardening or traveling. Nothing could be simpler.

2004-2-6 20:37 月光下轻舞飞

A Chance of a 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?" I followed him through a tour of the house, then accepted when he offered me a cup of tea. Barry had a sophisticated kindness about him and listened attentively as I chattered nervously about myself. His silver-rimmed glasses accented a few gray streaks in his dark hair. Soon, his warm, inviting smile put me at ease, and we spent the next two hours talking casually. Ultimately, I decided not to take the room and reluctantly bade him good-bye. The months went by quickly while I busied myself with preparation for the move. I thought of Bany often, but couldn't consider calling him. "I'm moving to New York in three weeks, "I said to Stacy as we walked out of my office and into the dining area. "As much as I'd like to see him again, it would only complicate my life. "Well, brace yourself for complications," Stacy muttered, then nodded toward the door. Barry, with his big blue eyes and engaging smile, walked into my restaurant. "Hello," he said softly. "Do you have time to join me for a cup of coffee?" "Of course." I tried not to gasp. We slid into a booth and our conversation picked up where it left off before. He, too, was making a career change and was moving back to South Africa. His departure date was one week before mine. Now I knew I had to calm my pounding heart. We obviously had no future together. He took my phone number and invited me to dinner sometime. I accepted, suppressing my sadness, knowing I would be leaving in two short weeks and the date would probably never happen. But it did. He picked me up a few days later for a movie and dinner. We talked for hours about our lives, our hopes, our separate dreams--- mine in New York, his in South Africa. Never had I spoken so freely, so comfortably, with a man. He reached across the table and took my hand. I thought I saw in his eyes the same love l felt swelling in my hear. He said, "I'm just sorry I met you only one week before l leave." "We still have seven days, " I said meekly. "Then let's make the most of it." He helped me on with my sweater. Hand in hand, we strolled to the car and made plans for the next day and the next and the next. As he drove me home, Tracy Chapman sang, "Give me one reason to stay, and I'll turn right back around." Was his heart singing along like mine? We spent part of every day together for the next week. I knew I was falling in love, but dared not speak it. I couldn't upset our chances for a lifetime. " And I know he loves me, too," l moaned to Stacy over a cup of coffee in my near-empty restaurant. "We've even talked about trying to get together over holidays. He's meeting me here soon to bring me a gift to remember him by." Just then, Bary strolled in. I stood to welcome his arms around me. We sat, sipping our coffee. "I will miss you so much, "he said softly. "But I know you'll think of me whenever you hear this. "He placed a Tracy Chapman CD on the table in front of me. Then he pointed to the song title, Just Give Me One Reason. "We can listen to the same music and remember each other." "Oh, and one more thing to remember me by." He set a small box on top of the CD. The same awe I felt at our first meeting paralyzed me now. The love I saw in his eyes as we gazed across the table was gift enough for a lifetime. Finally I reached for the box and opened it slowly. A diamond ring! "Michelle, I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. On our first date, even before we had coffee, l knew you were the woman I was going to marry. I woke up this morning, desperate, thinking, it's May 3! In three days I'll lose my angel. Sure, my career in South Africa is a chance in a lifetime, but you, Michelle, are my dream come true. Please marry me." "Yes, Barry, yes, "I cried. " I know what moving to New York means to you, but will you come with me to South Africa? I believe with all my heart, Michelle, that we were brought together on purpose. Nothing in my life is going as I planned it, but l know it's all a part of a bigger plan." Barry chuckled. "God has a great sense of humor, but a poor sense of timing." Exactly one year later, on May 3, we were married under an African sky. Our dream come true. Our chance of a lifetime. <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' />

2004-2-10 10:20 月光下轻舞飞

Thief He is waiting for the airline ticket counter when he first notices the young woman. She has glossy black hair pulled tightly into a knot at the back of her bead-the man imagines it loosed and cascading to the small of her back-and carries over she shoulder of her leather coat a heavy black purse. She wears black boots of soft leather. He struggles to see her face-she is ahead of him in line-but it is not until she has bought her ticket and turns to walk away that he realizes her beauty, which is pale and dark-eyed and full-mouthed, and which quickens his heart beat. She seems aware that he is staring at her and lowers her gaze abruptly. The airline clerk interrupts. The man gives up looking at the woman—he thinks she may be about twenty-five—and buys a round-trip, coach class ticket to an eastern city. His flight leaves in an hour. To kill time, the man steps into one of the airport cocktail bars and orders a scotch and water. While he sips it he watches the flow of travelers through the terminal-including a remarkable number, he thinks, of an unattached pretty women dressed in fashion magazine clothes-until he catches sight of the black-haired girl in the leather coat. She is standing near a Travelers Aid counter, deep in conversation with a second girl, a blond in a cloth coat trimmed with gray fur. He wants somehow to attract the brunette’s attention, to invite her to have a drink with him before her own flight leaves for wherever she is traveling, but even though he believes for a moment she is looking his way he cannot catch her eye from out of the shadows of the bar. In another instant the two women separate; neither of their direction is toward him. He orders a second Scotch and water. When next he sees her, he is buying a magazine to read during the flight and becomes aware that someone is jostling him. At first he is startled that anyone would be so close as to touch him, but when he sees who it is he musters a smile. “Busy place,” he says. She looks up at him—is she blushing? —and an odd grimace crosses her mouth and vanishes. She moves away from him and joins the crowds in the terminal. The man is at the counter with his magazine, but when he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet the pocket is empty. Where could I have lost it? he thinks. His mind begins enumerating the credit cards, the currency, the membership and identification cards; his stomach churns with something very like fear. The girl who was so near to me, he thinks-and all at once he understands that she has picked his pocked. What is he to do? He still has his ticket, safely tucked inside his suitcoat—he reaches into the jacket to feel the envelope, to make sure. He can take the flight, call someone to pick him up at his destination-since he cannot even afford bus fare-conduct his business and fly home. But in the meantime he will have to do something about the lost credit cards-call home, have his wife get the numbers out of the top desk drawer, phone the card companies-so difficult a process, the whole thing suffocating. What shall he do? First. Find a policeman, tell what has happened, describe the young woman, damn her, he thinks, for seeming to be attentive to him, to let herself stand so close to him, to blush prettily when he spoke-and all the time she wanted only to steal from him. And her blush was not shyness but the anxiety of being caught; that was most disturbing of all. Damn deceitful creatures. He will spare the policeman the details-just tell what she has down, what is in the wallet. He grits his teeth. He will probably never see his wallet again. He is trying to decide if he should save time for talking to a guard near the X-ray machines when he is appalled-and elated-to see the black-haired girl. She is seated against a front window of the terminal, taxis and private cars moving sluggishly beyond her in the gathering darkness: she seems engrossed in a book. A seat beside her is empty, and the man occupies it. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says. She glances at him with no sort of recognition. “I don’t know you,” she says. “Sure you do.” She sighs and puts the book aside. “is this all you characters think about—picking up girls like we were stray animals? What do you think I am?” “You lifted my wallet,” he says. He is pleased to have said “lifted”, thinking it sounds more wordly than stole or took or even ripped off. “I beg your pardon?” the girl says. “I know you did—at the magazine counter. If you’ll just give it back, we can forget the whole thing. If you don't, then I’ll hand you over to the police.” She studies him, her face serious. “All right,” she says. She pulls the black bag onto her lap, reaches into it and draws out a wallet. He takes it from her. “Wait a minute,” he says, “This isn’t mine.” The girl runs, he bolts after her. It is like a scene in a movie—bystanders scattering, the girl zigzagging to avoid collisions, the sound of his own breathing reminding him how old he is—until he hears a woman’s voice behind him: “Stop, thief! Stop that man!” Ahead of him the brunette disappears around a corner and in the same moment a young man in a marine uniform puts out a foot to trip him up. He falls hard, banging knee and elbow on the tile floor of the terminal, but manages to hang on to the wallet which is not his. The wallet is a woman’s, fat with money and credit cards from places like Sak’s and Peck & Peck and Lord & Taylor, and it belongs to the blonde in the fur-trimmed coat—the blonde he has earlier seen in conversation with the criminal brunette. She, too, is breathless, as is the police man with her. “That’s him,” the blonde girl says, “He lifted my billfold.” It occurs to the man that he cannot even prove his own identity to the policeman. Two weeks later—the embarrassment and rage have diminished, the family lawyer has been paid, the confusion in his household has receded-the wallet turns up without explanation in one morning’s mail. It is intact, no money is missing, all the cards are in place. Though he is relieved, the man thinks that for the rest of his life he will feel guilty around policemen, and ashamed in the presence of women.

2004-2-10 11:07 月光下轻舞飞

优秀的标准 My l4-year-old son, John, and I spotted the coat simultaneously. It was hanging on a rack at a secondhand clothing store in Northampton Mass, crammed in with shoddy trench coats and an assortment of sad, woolen overcoats -- a rose among thorns. While the other coats drooped, this one looked as if it were holding itself up. The thick, black wool of the double-breasted chesterfield was soft and unworn, as though it had been preserved in mothballs for years in dead old Uncle Henry's steamer trunk. The coat had a black velvet collar, beautiful tailoring, a Fifth Avenue label and an unbelievable price of $28. We looked at each other, saying nothing, but John's eyes gleamed. Dark, woolen topcoats were popular just then with teenage boys, but could cost several hundred dollars new. This coat was even better, bearing that touch of classic elegance from a bygone era. John slid his arms down into the heavy satin lining of the sleeves and buttoned the coat. He turned from side to side, eyeing himself in the mirror with a serious, studied expression that soon changed into a smile. The fit was perfect. John wore the coat to school the next day and came home wearing a big grin. "Ho. did the kids like your coat?" I asked. "They loved it," he said, carefully folding it over the back of a chair and smoothing it flat. I started calling him "Lord Chesterfield" and "The Great Gatsby." Over the next few weeks, a change came over John. Agreement replaced contrariness, quiet, reasoned discussion replaced argument. He became more judicious, more mannerly, more thoughtful, eager to please. “Good dinner, Mom," he would say every evening. He would generously loan his younger brother his tapes and lecture him on the niceties of behaviour; without a word of objection, he would carry in wood for the stove. One day when I suggested that he might start on homework before dinner, John -- a veteran procrastinator – said, “You’re right. I guess I will.” He would generously loan his younger brother his tapes and lecture him on the niceties of behaviour; without a word of objection, he would carry in wood for the stove. One day when I suggested that he might start on homework before dinner, John -- a veteran procrastinator – said, “You’re right. I guess I will.” John and I both know we should never mistake a person's clothes for the real person within them. But there is something to be said for wearing a standard of excellence for the world to see, for practising standards of excellence in though, speech, and behaviour, and for matching what is on the inside to what is on the outside. Sometimes, watching John leave for school, I've remembered with a keen sting what it felt like to be in the eighth grade -- a time when it was as easy to try on different approaches to life as it was to try on a coat. The whole world, the whole future is stretched out ahead, a vast panorama where all the doors are open. And if I were there right now, I would picture myself walking through those doors wearing my wonderful, magical coat.

2004-2-10 11:50 月光下轻舞飞

生活充满选择 Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I’d be twins!” He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don' t get it. You can' t be positive all the time. How do you do it?" Michael replied, each morning I wake up and say to myself 'Mike, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life." "Yeah, right. It isn't that easy." I protested. "Yes it is, " Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line is: It's your choice how you live life. " I reflected on what Michael said. Soon thereafter, I left the big enterprise that I had worked in for years to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often though about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling off 60 feet from a communications tower. After l8 hours of surgery, and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back. I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I’d be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was the well being of my soon-to-born daughter," Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, remembered I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live." "Weren’t you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Michael continued, "... the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the operation room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, l read 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action." "What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me” said Michael. "She asked me if I was allergic to anything. ‘Yes,’ I said. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled", ‘Gravity’” Over their laughter, I told them, 'I'm choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead'." Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I 1eamed from him that every day we have a choice to live fully. Attitude is everything.

2004-2-10 14:26 月光下轻舞飞

另一种爱 Inside the Russian Embassy in London a KGB colonel puffed a cigarette as he read the handwritten note for the third time. There was no need for the writer to express regret, he though. Correcting this problem would be easy. He would do that in a moment. The thought of it caused a grim smile to appear and joy to his heart. But he pushed away those thoughts and turned his attention to a framed photograph on his desk. His wife was beautiful, he told himself as he remembered the day they were married. That was forty-three years ago, and it had been the proudest and happiest day of his life. What had happened to all that time? Why had it passed so quickly, and why hadn’t he spent more of it with her? Why hadn’t he held her close and told her more often that he loved her? He cursed himself as a tear came from the corner of his eye, ran down his cheek, then dropped onto the note. He stiffened and wiped his face with the back of his hand. There was no need for remorse or regret, he told himself. In a few moments he would join her and at that time would express his undying love and devotion. After setting the note ablaze he dropped it into an ashtray and watched it burn. For a time the names cast moving shadows on the walls of the darkened room, then they nickered and died out. The colonel dropped the cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his heel, then clutched the photograph to his breast, removed a pistol from his pocket, placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. In the ashtray a small portion of the note remained. Where it had been wetted by his tear it had failed to bum, and on that scrap of paper were the words "died yesterday." <img src='style_emoticons/default/cry_smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='cry_smile.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/cry_smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='cry_smile.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/cry_smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='cry_smile.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/cry_smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='cry_smile.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/cry_smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='cry_smile.gif' />

2004-2-10 14:37 月光下轻舞飞

足球知识知多少？ TEAMS Each soccer team has eleven players and three substitute, or reserve players. The team consists of a goalkeeper, defenders, midfield players, and forwards (or strikers). The object of the game is to get the ball into your opponent's goal. THE MATCH A game of soccer is called a match and is split into two halves of 45 minutes each, with a 15-minute break at halftime. A referee and two assistants make sure that nobody cheats or breaks the rules. GOALKEEPNG Goalkeeping is a special skill. While the rest of the team can afford to make mistakes, if the goalkeeper makes one, it usually results in a goal for the opposition. Above Your Head The best way to catch a ball above your head is by joining the thumbs and forefingers of your hands together so there is a small arch between your hands. Chest or Head Jump off one leg and cradle the ball comfortably to your chest. The ball should rest on your forearms, with your hands holding it from above. Left or Right Always try to get both hands behind the ball and hold on tight. As soon as you've caught it, bring the ball quickly into the safety of your body.

2004-2-10 15:19 月光下轻舞飞

INTEL 的 CEO Craig Barrett AGE: 59 Intel 3-year return: 318% CEO since: 1998 At least life at the top hasn't been dull for Barrett, the 25-year Intel veteran who stepped into the CEO slot at the beginning of 1998. Since then, the company has been blindsided by the sudden rise of the market for sub-$1,000 PCs, had its dirty laundry aired at the Microsoft antitrust trial, and settled a patent-infringement complaint by the U.S. Justice Department even as the feds continue to probe other Intel business practices. Worst of all, two Intel employees were murdered under horrifying circumstances in Uganda in early March. Throughout this trying time, Barrett has maintained his focus on Intel's manufacturing operations. For good reason: As microchips find their way into ever more non-PC devices, they will have to become even smaller and more versatile. "You need a guy like Barrett to manage that transition," says Cowen & Co. analyst Drew Peck. Business Philosophy: Look ahead rather than back. Set high expectations, and meet deadlines. Headache: Competitors such as Advanced Micro Devices, which was much quicker than Intel to spot the growth potential of sub-$1,000 PCs. True story: In 1986, when Japan ruled the semiconductor market, Barrett learned everything he could about Japanese manufacturing practices. He applied what he learned at Intel's chip-fabrication plants. Today, the Japanese emulate Intel. Management Style: A plant-floor guy. Before he was named CEO, he personally inspected each of Intel's dozens of fabrication plants around the world. Former CEO Andy Grove joked that Barrett had collected enough frequent-flier miles to buy his own airline. Personal Strengths: Detail-oriented and disciplined. And to the relief of those weary of his predecessor's fractious and intimidating style, he's not Andy Grove. Habits: Works in a nine-foot-square gray cubicle, like everyone else at Intel. Always takes the stairs up and down the five flights to his office space. Picks up after litterbugs. Resume highlight: Before he joined Intel, he was a tenured Stanford professor (he holds a Ph.D. in materials science). How he got the job: Worked hand-in-glove with Grove for 24 years. Other interest: Outdoor sports, especially fly-fishing. Corporate goal: To make Intel's existing plants even more productive and efficient. Financial reward: Barrett owns more than 840,000 Intel shares, worth in excess of $100 million.

2004-2-10 15:24 月光下轻舞飞

纽约时报的CEO Russell T. Lewis The New York Times 3-year return: 130% Age: 51 CEO since: 1997 Lewis made major strides last year toward reinventing the Times as a national newspaper. Along with chairman Arthur Sulzberger Jr., whose family still owns a controlling interest, Lewis coordinated a $1 billion plan that, among other things, introduced color. The two also transformed the paper into a six-section daily, opened printing plants in Washington, D.C., and Boston to improve northeastern distribution, and pushed the national edition into dozens of new markets. Revenue grew 2.5 percent to almost $3 billion. Business philosophy: "The collective intellect and industry of a group yields greater results than any one individual." Headaches: A slowdown in traditional newspaper advertising. The proliferation of media choices, especially the Internet, threaten to cannibalize both readership and prestige. True story: While on active duty as a National Guardsman delivering U.S. mail during a postal strike, he secretly gathered information for a Times story. Narrowly avoided court-martial but won a National Publishers award. Management Style: "I'm more interested in making sure we have the right people in the right places than in telling people what to do." Strength: Getting people with different styles, ideas, and backgrounds to cooperate. Weakness: Untested in standing up to the Sulzberger family during crisis or recession. Habits: Out the door by 6:15 a.m. Prefers face-to-face meetings to E-mail or phone calls. Other interests: Fitness, running. Says he's a lousy golfer, but loves the game. Corporate goals. Increasing circulation by a quarter of a million copies daily and by 300,000 on Sunday in ten years. Opening four new printing-plant sites and increasing the number of registered users on the Times Web site from 6.2 million to 9 million by year's end. Personal goal: To protect the 150-year Times not only as a business but as an institution vital to the national conscience. Financial reward: 1998 salary of $503,100. Bonus of $570,000.

2004-2-10 15:28 月光下轻舞飞

苹果公司的CEO Steven Jobs Apple Computer 3-year return: 26% AGE: 42 Here's a guy with enough savvy and brainpower to effectively hold down two CEO jobs at once--and do a pretty amazing job at both. We've listed him for his post at Apple, but of course Steve Jobs also runs Pixar, the animation company. Jobs arrested Apple's slow death spiral and even put some oomph back into the pioneering computer firm he helped found. Coming in after a $1 billion loss in fiscal 1997, Jobs turned a $106 million profit--38 percent above Wall Street's consensus target. A lot of credit goes to a very simple idea: Make computers in different colors. Jobs was the only one who thought to make it happen. The colorful mid-priced iMac has also succeeded by playing down the compatibility conundrum. Apple positioned it as the machine for the Internet, where compatibility questions are no big deal. Behind the scenes, Jobs also streamlined the product line, reduced the head count, consolidated distribution, and slimmed inventory. Meanwhile, over at Pixar, A Bug's Life nabbed a total $159 million in domestic box office, the highest domestic animated take since Toy Story and third highest ever, after Toy Story and the leader, The Lion King. Business philosophy: "The technology isn't the hard part. The hard part is, Who's going to buy it? How are they going to buy it? How do you tell them about it?" Headaches: Multifold. Apple is still a pip-squeak to the Wintel Goliath. With less than 10 percent of the computer market, Apple needs to lure more software makers into producing programs for the Mac. The company has cut about as much as it can. Now it has a tougher job: Make sales grow. And what's the follow-up? Jobs probably also hasn't been spending as much as he should on research and development. Finally, where is his successor? Pixar, a collegial place, can run without him--but what about Apple? Not a good place for a boss who refuses to remove the "interim" prefix from his CEO title. 　Management Style: At Apple, Jobs is a mercurial micromanager--some say nanomanager. Virtually every decision goes by him. "At any time, 10,000 employees are wondering, 'What would Steve say?,' not 'What is the right thing to do?'" said a former Apple exec. At Pixar, realizing that he isn't a film visionary, he leaves the experts to their knitting. 　Habits: Known for casual dress, he cruises the office shoeless and in a sport shirt--but don't mistake him for laid-back. Snacks on granola doused with apple juice. How he got the job: The Apple board begged him to return. True story: Former Newton palmtop chief Sandy Benett told his underlings that the subsidiary would be folded back into Apple--before Jobs had made an official announcement. After the news leaked, Jobs fired Benett. Financial reward: His Apple rewards are minimal--a salary of one dollar a year so that his family is eligible for the health plan. But his 69 percent share of Pixar is worth about $1.3 billion.

2004-2-10 16:54 月光下轻舞飞

Panic on the Highway "Fear is a fact of life everyone faces from time to time. In most cases fearis a healthy reaction to a dangerous situation. But sometimes fear can be so extreme, so overwhelming, that it interferes with normal living. That is what happened to me driving cross-country last summer. [2] I'd agreed to help my brother, Mac, move from the East Coast to California. He would drive a rental truck loaded with his belongings and I would follow him in his sedan, then fly back. We figured it would be a simple trip, with four or five motel stops along the way. [3] Living and working in coastal Georgia for most of my life, I did not have a great deal of long-distance driving experience. Looking back on it today, I can see that I'd always felt a twinge of fear when driving over small bridges and along hilly highways. And as I was getting ready for the trip I had a vague concern about the steep mountain roads that lay ahead. But I thought I would get used to them. [4] As we crossed some high bridges near the Blue Ridge Mountains on the first leg of our trip, a kind of breathlessness gripped me, a sinking, rolling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I tended to veer slightly away from the edge of the roadway and the drop-off beyond. My knuckles whitened from my tense grip on the steering wheel. At the end of each bridge, a great rush of relief would come over me, only to be replaced in short order by fear of the next obstacle. [5] When we stopped in Nashville the first night, I mentioned my feelings to Mac, who is the practical sort. "Oh, that's nothing," he said cheerfully . "Lots of people hate driving on mountain roads and high bridges. Just turn up the music on your radio and focus on that. Keep your mind occupied." [6] I gave him a weak smile and said good night. But later as I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't chase away the apprehension I had about the high driving ahead. The more I tried not to think about it, the more my mind kept going back to that helpless feeling of panic I had on the first leg of the journey. My fear seemed to possess a life of its own. You're being childish , I chided myself. This is ridiculous ! If I could just close my eyes and relax, I thought, the renewal of a good night's sleep would drive the fear away. [7] But it didn't go away. All through the flatlands of Arkansas, Oklahoma , north Texas and New Mexico it lay like a coiled snake inside of me. When we approached the high plateau of northern Arizona it began to stir. As the grades grew steeper and the curves sharper, my sense of control faltered, "It's all in your head," I kept repeating desperately. "There is no danger. It's all in your head." [8] Yet I couldn't defeat the terror. Mile after mile it was like an invisible force drawing my attention toward the edge of the road where the soft shoulder gave way to thin air. I tried everything I could think of. I cranked up the radio. Sang songs. Recited poetry. All to no avail. The palms of my hands were so sweaty that I had to squeeze the steering wheel to keep my grip. [9] I kept closing the gap between my car and my brother's truck, inching toward the reassuring glow of the taillights like a frightened sheep following a shepherd. I could see Mac watching me in his rearview mirror , and that night at supper in Kingman, Arizona, he said, "Leigh, you're tailgating . You're much too close for these mountain roads." He studied my face for a moment, then added, "Tomorrow will be the last day of high country. Just try to hang in there. We've got this far okay. You know there's nothing to be afraid of." [10] I understood that. I had to go on. But the prospect of hairpin turns and sheer drop-offs made it impossible for me to eat any supper. Mac tried to keep the conversation breezy, but it didn't help. I excused myself early and went to bed, exhausted. [11] Sleep wouldn't come. I lay staring into the dark, listening to the sounds of trucks and cars rushing along the nearby interstate. I tried to summon up reassuring images of home, now so many hundreds of miles away. I thought of Betsy and Tabitha, the two lovable cats that belonged to my husband and me; of Ben, the playful mutt who loved to catch Frisbees. I thought about friends and neighbors. I pictured the faces of my husband and children. [12] I also thought about Lillian, our parents' part-time maid. I could almost touch calmness when I thought about Lillian, with her gentle voice and radiant smile. I knew Lillian was praying for me; she always prays for our family, especially when one of us is away. I found myself clutching for a verse from Deuteronomy. How did it go? "Don't be afraid, for the Lord will go before you and will be with you; He will neither fail nor forsake you." [13] But nothing could dispel the sense of helplessness that overwhelmed me whenever I contemplated the frowning mountains that lay ahead. The next morning I had to force myself to slide behind the wheel. Just one more day, I kept telling myself. Surely I can find the courage to make it through one day. If I just kept my eyes locked on the back of my brother's truck, if I just made my wheels follow his wheels, I'd be all right. If I would just take slow, deep breaths instead of shallow, terrified gasps, I would be all right. [14] If I could just visualize my heart as a place where courage dwelt, instead of panic, I would be all right. I kept telling myself that the fear of crashing through the guardrail and plunging over the edge existed only in my imagination, pot in fact. Control, that was the key. I would cling with all my might to control. I would clutch it tight and take charge . [15] But as the day wore on and the road mounted higher, that little core of self-control grew smaller and smaller, and finally, on a heart-stop-ping grade southwest of Barstow, California, it vanished altogether. [16] My brother's truck, moving downhill fast, got far ahead of me. With it went the last vestiges of my courage. On one side of my little car the mountain rose like a gigantic wall of sheer rock. On the other side was thin air. I struggled desperately not to look over the edge. [17] Traffic was streaming down the grade, mostly big trucks in the righthand lane. I wanted to join them there but I could not bring myself to steer to the right, toward the edge. Instead I kept inching to the left, going slower and slower in the passing lane, trying to hug the mountain wall. Drivers behind me honked their horns angrily. Panic paralyzed me. I wanted to stop but there was no place to pull over. I tried to say the Lord's Prayer. My throat was too tight for words to come. [18] Ahead of me I could see that the road made a sweeping turn to the left. A river of steel was rushing around that curve, moving fast under the pull of gravity. I knew that all I had to do was inch the steering wheel to the left and keep pace with traffic, but my arms were rigid. The fear that filled the car was stronger, much stronger, than I was. [19] Behind me the impatient horns blared their angry chorus. I was absolutely certain that I was going to plunge straight ahead, through the flimsy barrier, then down, down, down through an endless drop. I moaned through clenched teeth. Again I tried to pray, this time silently. I begged God not to fail me, to take full control of the situation. Lord, save me from my fear. [20] Then, abruptly, something unbelievable happened. The traffic roared on. The curve was coming closer. But suddenly, in a flash, the fear vanished. I experienced a presence, virtually a palpable sensation, of overwhelming love filling my car, washing over me, blotting our the stark panic. Another phrase from the Bible flashed into my mind; "Perfect love casteth out fear." I felt that perfect love, the Lord's love, reaching out to touch my shoulder. A voice, soundless yet perfectly real, said, You are safe now. I am here. [21] I moved into the slow lane, next to the dreaded edge, and swept around the terrifying curve. I kept my eyes riveted on the road directly ahead. Down and down I went. The curve seemed like it would never end. But all the way down the mountain I felt love encircling me, keeping me safe from my fear and guiding me. [22] Finally I came to a rest area and pulled in. I sagged back in the seat. I unclenched my hands and looked at my fingers, white and bent. The presence I felt so strongly inside the car began to fade, and with it went the last residue of the fear that had gripped me these past several days. It drained from me like a poison. I closed my eyes and said a prayer of thanks before putting the car in gear and returning to the highway. [23] I awoke early the next morning in Los Angeles and glanced at the clock: 6:30, which meant 9:30 back home in Georgia. I lay there for a time, thinking about the day before and what I'd discovered that God's perfect love can conquer any situation. He can control things that are beyond our control, even the most crippling fear. [24] I picked up the phone and dialed my parents' home in Savannah. A soft, familiar voice answered. "Hi, Lillian," I said. "We made it to California all right." [25] There was a pause and a little sigh from the other end. Then Lil-lian murmured, "Thank You, Jesus. [26] A little electric tingle seemed to run up my spine. "Why do you say that, Lillian?' [27] "I have to thank Him. I prayed all day for you yesterday. I asked Him to ride with you and keep you safe, to put His hand on your shoulder. He did, didn't He?" [28] "Oh, yes, Lillian," I answered, "yes, He did."

2004-2-10 18:36 月光下轻舞飞

Paradox of Our Times [1]We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgement; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness. [2] We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get to angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too often, and pray too seldom. [3] We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too little and lie too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. [4] We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less. [5] We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We've conquered outer space, but not inner space. We've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less. [6] We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes, but lower morals. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies, but have less communication. We are long on quantity, but short on quality. [7] These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character; steep profits and shallow relationships. More leisure and less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition; two incomes, but more divorce; fancier houses, but broken homes. <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' />

2004-2-11 20:43 月光下轻舞飞

The Rich Get Richer Faster than Ever [1]Britain's richest people have experienced the biggest-ever rise in their wealth, according to the Sunday Times Rich List. [2] Driven by the "new economy of internet and computer entrepreneurs, the wealth of those at the top of the financial tree has increased at an unprecedented rate. [3] The 12th annual Rich List will show that the collective worth of the country's richest 1,000 people reached nearly --146 billion by January, the cut-off point for the survey. This represented an increase of --31 billion, or 27% , in just 12 months. [4] Since the survey was compiled, Britain's richest have added billions more to their wealth, thanks to the continuing boom in technology shares on the stock market. This has pushed up the total value of the wealth of the richest 1,000 to a probable -- 160 billion according to Dr Philip Beresford, Britain's acknowledged expert on personal wealth who compiles the Sunday Times Rich List. [5] The millennium boom exceeds anything in Britain's economic history, including the railway boom of the 1840s and the South Sea bubble of 1720. "It has made Margaret Thatcher's boom seem as sluggish as Edward Heath's three-day week," said Beresford. "We are seeing billions being added to the national wealth every week." [6] William Rubinstein, professor of modern history at the University of Wales, Aberystwyth, confirmed that the growth in wealth was unprecedented. "Almost all of today's wealth has been created since the industrial revolution, but even by those heady standards the current boom is extraordinary," he said. [7] "There is no large-scale cultural opposition or guilt about making money. In many ways British business attitudes can now challenge the United States." [8] Although Britain's richest are experiencing the sharpest surge in wealth, the rest of the population has also benefited from the stock market boom and rising house prices. Last year wealth rose by 16% to a record --4,267 billion, according to calculations by the investment bank Salomon Smith Barney. In real terms, wealth has increased by more than a third since the late 1980s. [9] Much of the wealth of the richest is held in shares in start-up companies. Some of these paper fortunes, analysts agree, could easily be wiped out, although the wealth-generating effects of the internet revolution seem to be here to stay. [10] New economy entrepreneurs are to be found in all parts of Britain, but the City is a particular beneficiary of the stock market's internet boom. The number of those earning more than -- 1m a year in salaries and bonuses has risen to 3,000 from 750 five years ago. [11] A Sunday Times Young Rich List confirms that people are becoming wealthier younger. It includes the 60 richest millionaires aged 30 or under. At the top, on --600m, is the "old money" Earl of Iveagh, 30, head of the Guinness brewing family. In second place is Charles Nasser, also 30, who launched the Clara-NET internet provider four years ago and is worth --300m. The remaining eight in the top 10 young millionaires made their money from computing and the internet. [12] The richest woman is Avneet Sahni, 29, who runs the Manchester-based VIP Computer Centre with her husband Jatti and is worth 50m. Martha Lane Fox, 27, of lastminute.com, is 15th equal in the list. [13] David and Victoria Beckham, jointly worth --25m, are 18th equal along-side boxer Naseem Hamed. The youngest millionaire is the singer Charlotte Church, 14, who is worth -- 10m.

2004-2-11 21:18 月光下轻舞飞

My Irreplaceable Treasure [1]Recently I gave a dinner party for some close friends. To add a touch of elegance to the evening, I brought out the good stuff--my white Royal Crown Derby china with the fine blue-and-gold border. When we were seated, one of the guests noticed the beat-up gravy boat I'd placed among the newer, better dinnerware. "Is it an heirloom?" she asked tactfully. [2] I admit the piece does look rather conspicuous. For one thing, it matches nothing else. It's also old and chipped. But that little gravy boat is much more than an heirloom to me. It is the one thing in this world I will never part with. [3] The story begins more than 50 years ago, when I was seven years old and we lived in a big house along the Ohio River in New Richmond, Ohio. All that separated the house from the river was the street and our wide front lawn. In anticipation of high water, the ground floor had been built seven feet above grade. [4] Late in December the heavy rains came, and the river climbed to the tops of its banks. When the water began to rise in a serious way, my parents made plans in case the river should invade our house. My mother decided she would pack our books and her fine china in a small den off the master bedroom. [5] The china was not nearly as good as it was old. Each piece had a gold rim and a band of roses. But the service had been her mother's and was precious to her. As she packed the china with great care, she said to me, "You must treasure the things that people you love have cherished. It keeps you in touch with them." [6] I didn't understand, since I'd never owned anything I cared all that much about. Still, planning for disaster held considerable fascination for me. [7] The plan was to move upstairs if the river reached the seventh of the steps that led to the front porch. We would keep a rowboat downstairs so we could get from room to room. The one thing we would not do was leave the house. My father, the town's only doctor, had to be where sick people could find him. [8] I checked on the river's rise several times a day and lived in a state of hopeful alarm that the water would climb all the way up to the house. It did not disappoint. The muddy water rose higher until, at last, the critical seventh step was reached. [9] We worked for days carrying things upstairs, until, late one afternoon, the water edged over the threshold and rushed into the house. I watched, amazed at how rapidly it rose. [10] After the water got about a foot deep inside the house, it was hard to sleep at night. The sound of the river moving about downstairs was frightening. Debris had broken windows, so every once in a while some floating battering ram--a log or perhaps a table--would bang into the walls and make a sound like a distant drum. [11] Every day I sat on the landing and watched the river rise. Mother cooked simple meals in a spare bedroom she had turned into a makeshift kitchen. She was worried, I could tell, about what would happen to us. Father came and went in a small fishing boat. He was concerned about his patients and possible outbreaks of dysentery, pneumonia or typhoid. [12] Before long, the Red Cross began to pitch tents on high ground north of town. "We are staying right here," my father said. [13] As the water continued to rise, I kept busy rowing through the house and looking at the furniture that had been too big to move upstairs. I liked to row around the great cozy couch, now almost submerged, and pretend it was an island in a lake. [14] One night very late I was awakened by a tearing noise, like timbers creaking. Then there was the rumbling sound of heavy things falling. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway. My parents were standing in the doorway to the den, where we had stored the books and my mother's beloved china. [15] The floor of the den had fallen through, and all the treasures we had tried to save were now on the first floor, under the stealthily rising river. My father lit our camp light, and we went to the landing to look. We could see nothing except the books bobbing like little rafts on the water. [16] Mother had been courageous, it seemed to me, through the ordeal of the flood. She was steady and calm, and kept things going in good order. But that night she sat on the top of the stairs with her head on her crossed arms and cried. I had never seen her like that, and there was a sound in her weeping that made me afraid. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't think of what I could possibly do. I just knew I had to figure out something. [17] The next morning, after breakfast, I did a geography lesson and then Mother said I could go downstairs and play in the boat. I rowed once around the down-stairs, avoiding the mess of timbers in the hall where the terrible accident had occurred. The books had begun to sink. I stared down into the dark water and could see nothing. It was right then that I got the idea. [18] I made a hook from a wire coathanger and carefully fastened it to a weighted line. Then I let it sink and began to drag it slowly back and forth. I spent the next hour or so moving the boat and dragging my line--hoping to find pieces of my mother's lost treasure. But time after time the line came up empty. [19] As the water rose day after day, I continued trying to recover some remnant of my mother's broken china. Soon, however, the water inside had risen to the stairway landing. On the day water covered the gutters outside, my father decided we would have to seek shelter in the tents on the hill. A powerboat was to pick us up that afternoon. We would leave by the porch roof. [20] I spent the morning hurriedly securing things in my room. Then I got into my rowboat for the last time. I dragged my line through the water. Nothing. After some time I heard my parents calling, so I headed back toward the stairway. Just as I made the last turn, I snagged something. [21] Holding my breath, I slowly raised my catch to the surface. As the dark water drained from it, I could make out the bright roses and gold leaf design. It seemed dazzling to me. I had found the gravy boat from my mother's china service. My line had caught on a small chip in the lip. [22] My father called down to me again. "This is serious business," he said. "Let's go." So I stowed the treasure in my jacket and rowed as fast as I could to the stair landing. [23] The powerboat picked us up and headed to higher ground. It began to rain, and for the first time I was really afraid. The water might rise forever, might cover the whole valley, the trees, even the hills. [24] By the time we were settled in a Red Cross tent, we were worn out. Father had gone off to care for sick people, and Mother sat on my cot with her arm around my shoulder. She smiled at me, if you can call it that. Then I reached under my pillow and took out the gravy boat. [25] She looked at it, then at me. Then she took it in her hands and held it for a long time. She was very quiet, just sitting, gazing at the gravy boat. She seemed both close to me and also very far away, as though she was remembering. I don't know what she was thinking, but she pulled me into her arms and held me tight. [26] We lived in the tent for weeks, cold and often hungry. As the flood crested, an oil slick caught fire and burned our house down to the waterline. We never went back. Instead, we moved to a house near Cincinnati, far from the river. [27] By Easter we were settled in, and we celebrated that special Sunday with a feast. While Dad carved the lamb, Mother went into the kitchen and returned with the gravy boat. She held my gift for a moment as though it was something unspeakably precious. Then, smiling at me, she placed it gently on the table. I said to myself right then that nothing would ever happen to that gravy boat as long as I lived. [28] And nothing ever has. Now I use the gravy boat just as she had, taking it carefully from the shelf and filling it just as she did with dark, rich turkey gravy for family dinners and other special occasions. When guests ask about the curious old dish, I sometimes tell the story of how I fished it from the river in our house. [29] But beyond the events of the flood, the gravy boat is a treasure that connects me to the people and the places of my past. Mother tried to explain, and now I understand. It is not the object so much as the connection that I cherish. That little porcelain boat, chipped and worn with age, keeps me in touch--just as she said it would--with her life, her joy and her love. <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' /> <img src='style_emoticons/default/rose.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='rose.gif' />

2004-2-13 11:00 月光下轻舞飞

Investing in Vices [1] A tricky question in investing is how much of a role ethics should play in your stock selections. [2] Should you invest in companies that manufacture weapons? What about nuclear power? Alcohol? Gambling? Tobacco? Those are the "Big Five" in terms of ethical decisions. They tend to provoke the strongest emotions, and come up most often in discussions of ethical investing. [3] But the list could go on and on. Should you invest in companies that have been fined for polluting the environment? Companies that have been sued for racial discrimination? Companies that don't have women in key positions? Companies that do animal testing? Companies that sponsor sexually explicit TV shows or art exhibitions? [4] The world being what it is, too fine an ethical filter could quickly screen out almost every large company and many small ones. [5] I tend to be tolerant of most vices in life, and also in investing. I am currently seeking out defense stocks. I'm eyeing at least one nuclear-power stock, and am favorably disposed toward gambling stocks. There's no liquor stock I want to own, but if the numbers looked attractive, I'd buy one. Smoke-Free Zone [6] In my personal portfolio, the only industry I won't invest in is tobacco. Tobacco causes disease and suffering when used as intended, whereas most of the others cause problems only when they are abused. [7] Client portfolios are a different matter. When you are managing other people's money, your job is to maximize performance. We don't have any tobacco stocks at Dorfman Investments, but I'm on the stock selection committee for a money management firm, Dreman Value Management, that has tobacco holdings. [8] As for performance, the 80 "socially responsible" mutual funds tracked by Morningstar Inc., the Chicago research company, returned 15 percent a year on average in the five years through October. That compares to an 18 percent return for all U. S. stock funds, and 26 percent for the Standard & Poor's 500 Index during the same period. [9] At my firm, and many others, clients with their own separate accounts can specify whatever ethical restrictions they want. One of my clients doesn't want to own weapons stocks. For her, I won't buy stocks such as Lockheed Martin Corp., Litton Industries Inc., Cordant Technologies Inc. or Kaman Corp. But stocks of that type will be in many other clients' portfolios. Weapons of Defense [10] The question of whether military force can be used ethically is one of the oldest and most difficult in history. To me, Hitler and World War II are sufficient proof that maintaining a strong U. S. Military force is a moral act. [11] Some of my best friends disagree. To them, the ends do not justify the means. I asked one friend, who is a Quaker, what the U. S. should have done about Hitler. His response: "I don't know. But I believe we should have found an alternative other than force." [12] That is an intellectually honest position, but to me not persuasive. On the whole, I feel the world is a better place if the U.S. has rocket fuel (Cordant), defense electronics (Litton), and Seasprite naval helicopters (Kaman), than if we don't. Power Sources [13] Nuclear power is another issue that people feel strongly about. In the wake of Chernobyl and Three Mile Island, I can't argue that it's wrong to be concerned about the safety of nuclear plants. And yet, I believe people forget the hundreds of injuries and the massive pollution caused by oil-and coal-fueled electrical generating plants. Nuclear power, at least potentially, is a less polluting energy source than most of its competitors. [14] The green so of cutting hack on energy use strikes me as misguided. Economic opportunity and social justice are much easier to achieve in an expanding economy. And an expanding economy virtually requires abundant energy. [15] Alcohol, to some people, is the worst villain. And yet, when the nation tried to ban alcohol during prohibition, the experiment proved a failure. I can't resist adding that moderate drinkers have much lower death rates from heart attack than teetotalers. [16] There are no liquor stocks I want to own presently. But at the right price, I would own one. The Gambling Vice [17] Anita Green, the director of social research at Pax World Fund, the third-largest social responsibility mutual fund, recently referred to gambling as "a vice that inflicts crushing social costs on American society". Noting that seven of the largest 20 mutual funds in the U . S. hold one or more gambling stocks, she suggests that investors pick a fund that has sworn to avoid them--namely, her own. [18] Gambling, which Green opposes so strongly, is to me a pleasurable activity. I go to the racetrack, watch the pageantry of the horses, jockeys and silks, and enjoy the spectacle more because I have a $ 2 or $ bet on the outcome. I enjoy spending a day or two in Las Vegas or Atlantic City. But I go only once every year or two, and set myself a limit of $ 50 or $ 100 a day. When that's gone, I walk around and see the sights. [19] For better or worse, it appears that America is still moving in the direction of more gambling. So I think that casino and lottery stocks--issues like Scientific Games Holdings Corp., Mirage Resorts Inc. and Mandalay Resort Group--are good bets. [20] The impulse to invest ethically is praiseworthy, but I'm skeptical of "one size fits all" approaches to it. And I think anyone attempting to invest ethically should have respect for the complexity and difficulty of the task Gap's problem [21] For example, Pax World Fund, based in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, says it invests only in companies "that treat their employees, their environment, and their communities with respect". I'm sure it makes every effort to do so, but in an imperfect world, these decisions get mighty tricky. [22] Pax World's largest stockholding is Gap Inc. Friday, Gap (along with some other retailers) lost in its attempt to dismiss a lawsuit accusing it of selling clothes made under sweatshop conditions in the U.S. territory of Saipan. In August, four other defendants in that suit, including Nordstrom Inc. and J. Crew Group Inc., agreed to settle the claims against them by establishing a $ 1.25 million fund to monitor working conditions of their Saipan workplaces. [23] None of this necessarily means that Gap is a bad company, or culpable in the Saipan case. But it does illustrate the difficulty in making ethical investing decisions.

2004-2-13 11:40 月光下轻舞飞

My Greatest Olympic Prize [1]It was the summer of 1936. The Olympic Games were being held in Berlin. Because Adolf Hitler childishly insisted that his performers were members of a "master race," nationalistic feelings were at an all-time high. [2] I wasn't too worried about all this. I'd trained, sweated and disciplined myself for six years, with the Games in mind. While I was going over on the boat, all I could think about was taking home one or two of those gold medals. I had my eyes especially on the running broad jump. A year before, as a sophomore at the Ohio State, I'd set the world's record of 26 feet 8 1/4 inches. Nearly everyone expected me to win this event. [3] I was in for a surprise. When the time came for the broad-jump trials, I was startled to see a tall boy hitting the pit at almost 26 feet on his practice leaps! He turned out to be a German named Luz Long. I was told that Hitler hoped to win the jump with him. [4] I guessed that if Long won, it would add some new support to the Nazis' "master race" (Aryansuperiority) theory. After all, I am a Negro. Angry about Hitler's ways, I determined to go out there and really show Der Fuhrer and his master race who was superior and who wasn't. [5] An angry athlete is an athlete who will make mistakes, as any coach will tell you. I was no exception. On the first of my three qualifying jumps, I leaped from several inches beyond the takeoff board for a foul. On the second jump, I fouled even worse. "Did I come 3,000 miles for this?" I thought bitterly. "To foul out of the trials and make a fool of myself?" [6] Walking a few yards from the pit, I kicked disgustedly at the dirt. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look into the friendly blue eyes of the tall German broad jumper. He had easily qualified for the finals on his first attempt. He offered me a firm handshake. [7] "Jesse Owens, I'm Luz Long. I don't think we've met." He spoke English well, though with a German twist to it. "Glad to meet you," I said. Then, trying to hide my nervousness, I added, "How are you?" "I'm fine. The question is: How are you?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Something must be eating you," he said--proud the way foreigners are when they've mastered a bit of American slang. "You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed." "Believe me, I know it," I told him--and it felt good to say that to someone. [8] For the next few minutes we talked together. I didn't tell Long what was "eating" me, but he seemed to understand my anger, and he took pains to reassure me. Although he'd been schooled in the Nazi youth movement, he didn't believe in the Aryan-supremacy business any more than I did. We laughed over the fact that he really looked the part, though. An inch taller than I, he had a lean, muscular frame, clear blue eyes, blond hair and a strikingly handsome face. Finally, seeing that I had calmed down somewhat, he pointed to the take-off board. [9] "Look," he said. "Why don't you draw a line a few inches behind the board and aim at making your take-off from there? You'll be sure not to foul, and you certainly ought to jump far enough to qualify. What does it matter if you're not first in the trials? Tomorrow is what counts." [101 Suddenly all the tension seemed to leave my body as the truth of what he said hit me. Confidently, I drew a line a full foot behind the hoard and proceeded to jump from there. I qualified with almost a foot to spare. [11] That night I walked over to Luz Long's room in the Olympic village to thank him. I knew that if it hadn't been for him I probably wouldn't be jumping in the finals the following day. We sat and talked for two hours--about track and field, ourselves, the world situation, a dozen other things. [12] When I finally got up to leave, we both knew that a real friendship had been formed. Luz would go out to the f