I began working in journalism when I was eight. It was my mother's idea. She wanted me to "make something" of myself, and decided I had better start young if I was to have any chance of keeping up with the competition.

    With my load of magazines, I headed toward Belleville Avenue. The crowds were there. There were two gas stations on the corner of Belleville and Union. For several hours I made myself highly visible, making sure everyone could see me and the heavy black letters on the bag that said THE SATURDAY EVENING POST. When it was supper time, I walked back home.

    "How many did you sell, my boy?" my mother asked.

    "None."

    "Where did you go?"

    "The corner of Belleville and Union Avenues."

    "What did you do?"

    "Stood on the corner waiting for somebody to buy a Saturday Evening Post."

    "You just stood there?"

    "Didn't sell a single one."

    "My God, Russell!"

    Uncle Allen put in, "Well, I've decided to take the Post." I handed him a copy and he paid me a nickel. It was the first nickel I earned.

    Afterwards my mother taught me how to be a salesman. I would have to ring doorbells, address adults with self-confidence, and persuade them by saying that no one, no matter how poor, could afford to be without the Saturday Evening Post in the home.

    One day, I told my mother I'd changed my mind. I didn't want to make a success in the magazine business.

    "If you think you can change your mind like this," she replied, "you'll become a good-for-nothing." She insisted that, as soon as school was over, I should start ringing doorbells, selling magazines. Whenever I said no, she would scold me.

    My mother and I had fought this battle almost as long as I could remember. My mother, dissatisfied with my father's plain workman's life, determined that I would not grow up like him and his people. But never did she expect that, forty years later, such a successful journalist as me would go back to her husband's people for true life and love.

    Hannah Levine decided she wanted to give hugs to all of the children and families in need at local hospitals.

    Because she couldn't give them one by one, Levine, then a sixth-grader, decided she would use her talents(才能) to do the next best thing. She began to knit(编织) hats, scarves, and blankets for families staying at the Ronald McDonald House at Stanford. Her creations also went to Bundle of Joy, a program that provides newborn baby items for families in need, and to Knitting Pals by the Bay, a local organization that provides hand-knitted caps to cancer patients.

    “I love to knit, and I thought it would be a great idea to make all these handmade items for kids and adults who need them. It would be like a hug for them,” Levine explained.

    Levine started the project about a year ago. “I think it's just really fun to do, and it keeps me busy,” said Levine, now 13.

    Once she got started, Levine realized that her project could be much bigger than the goods she was able to produce with just her own hands. So she sent emails to her school and communities(社区), asking for knitted donations(捐赠物) to the project she named “Hannah's Warm Hugs”. She also posted advertisements at Starbucks and other locations in her area. The warm goods began to gush in.

    “It was amazing; more strangers than people she knew started dropping donations at our door,” said Levine's mother, Laura Levine. “We ended up with this huge box of items she was donating.”

    The knitted items numbered in the hundreds. Levine made her first round of donations around Hanukkah (an eight-day Jewish holiday in November or December) and later received thank-you letters from the organizations. Levine is still knitting, and she said the project will continue.

    “It has turned into a bigger thing than she had thought,” her mom said. “It made her feel pretty good; it made us feel pretty good.”

    Standing in front of the “Chilkoot Trailhead” sign for 15 minutes, I didn't take one step. I was afraid of bears. That's what was keeping me from walking the trail alone. I had hiked through black-bear country back home in Colorado, but now I was in Alaska, home to the fierce brown grizzly bear.

    Fortunately, a friendly couple arrived and asked me to take their picture. We started talking and soon were walking the trail together. I was relieved. Ron and Carol were from Alaska and they taught me how to stay safe in bear country.

    I had finally started my hike along the famous Chilkoot Trail, where more than 115 years ago, thousands of gold miners had walked. I was writing a book about the Klondike Gold Rush, and I wanted to follow in the footsteps of the miners to know what it was really like.

    Ron, Carol, and I walked through the forest. As I was looking around at the beautiful scenery in the forest, I tripped (绊倒) over a big tree root and injured my ankle (脚踝). Fortunately, my ankle felt better in the morning, and we followed the trail. We went to bed early that night because the following day would be the toughest hike of all.

    At dawn, we started hiking up the steep (陡峭的), green valley. Icy glaciers covered the mountains above. Soon we were as high as the clouds and could see only 20 feet in front of us. Finally, we reached the top of the Chilkoot pass and saw a Canadian flag moving in the heavy wind. Hours later, we arrived at our campground.

    The following morning, my ankle was feeling fine, and my fear of bears had mostly disappeared. I said good-bye to Ron and Carol and walked alone for the next two days. Without seeing any bears the entire trip, I finally arrived at Bennett Lake. I rode the old train down to the town of Skagway and checked into my hotel.

    While relaxing in my comfortable bed in the hotel, I thought of the miners from the Klondike Gold Rush. When the miners reached Bennett Lake, they had to cut down trees, build boats, and travel 500 miles down dangerous rivers and lakes. Then, when they finally reached the goldfields, they had to start digging.