Are there any short stories that reflect the importance of moral cultivation to people's adulthood and old age?
give exact information
Go to Shenzhen to meet friends and meet in a restaurant. It's midsummer and it's refreshing to walk into the cool world. But some ladies can't even stand the cold. The waiter just gave each lady a shawl, and the ladies praised the service of the hotel.
Shortly after I returned to Shanghai, I went to visit patients in the Oriental Hospital. I happened to meet a nurse with a nail clipper and asked who would cut her nails before her bed. This reminds me of a past event. Also in the hospital, an old man wanted to have his nails cut. Because all his patients didn't bring nail clippers, he finally had to give up. Unexpectedly, Oriental Hospital has such a service project.
Details make perfect. A unit is like this, and so is a person. A few days ago, I went to Shanghai Mayak Group to interview Chairman Xu Lifu and his wife Zou Li. I miss their enthusiastic attention to the details of students from poor families. It was a routine introduction, and the host asked the students to report their family difficulties. Xu Lifu and his wife immediately stopped. They don't want to see the patrons feel inferior and feel that they can't add salt to the wound. They said that helping students is not pity, nor charity, but out of their own sincerity, and repeatedly advised students not to be grateful, thinking that this is due social morality.
(Excerpted from Xinmin Evening News, February 2, 20051Yin)
A contract a century ago
A rich farmer loves his son deeply. However, in an accident, his son fell off a cliff and died unfortunately. The farmer was heartbroken. In order to "see" his son every day, he built a small grave in the manor. The year is 1797.
A few years later, his family declined and he had to resell his manor. Out of love for his son, he made a request to the buyer: my son's grave must be part of the land and must not be destroyed. Moreover, this requirement was solemnly written into the contract.
How many years have passed, the owner of the land has changed one crop after another, and the names of the children have all disappeared. However, the unknown child's grave is intact under the protection of one contract after another.
One hundred years later, this land of geomantic omen was designated by the government as the cemetery of General Grant. The city government of New York abided by the contract on cemeteries and kept the graves of unknown children. General Grant was laid next to the tomb of the unknown child. 1997, Julia Tavella, then mayor of new york, came to the cemetery of General Grant to solemnly commemorate the centenary of General Grant's death. At the same time, the mayor personally signed a contract as the representative of the landowner, promising that the tomb of the unknown child would exist forever.
(Excerpted from Yellow Race,No. 1, 2005, by Chen Zhihong)
Rude, no reason.
When Charles was young, he often helped in his father's grocery store. There is an unpopular man in the grocery store, and everyone knows that he is unfaithful to his wife; Morally speaking, he is definitely not a respectable person.
Charles has heard a lot about this man's personality, so he has no respect for him like other children. Children call other adult men "Mr. So-and-so", but for this man, they just want to call him "Joe".
One day, Charles's father heard his son talking to Joe, so he called his son to the office. The son explained to his father that the word "sir" is for respectable people, and that guy doesn't deserve it!
"He deserves is his business, you treat him like this is your problem. Now you are rude, young man! " Father said, "it's no excuse for you to be rude to have an opinion of another person!" " "
(Excerpted from Global Times on February 28, 2005, compiled by Rebel Shelley and Liu Juncheng)
Take one's life for others
I once read a novel about a German Nazi officer who loved playing basketball. He told a group of prisoners of war that as long as he could throw the basketball into the basket, he would spare his life, otherwise, he would be shot on the spot immediately.
There happened to be a basketball player among the prisoners. After witnessing many tragic deaths, he calmly and quickly threw the basketball into the basket.
German officers have come up with new tricks. He said, "You can go; But there are still a dozen people left here. You can shoot them one by one. If they all hit, they can still be released, but if they miss once, then you all have to ... "
The athlete's determined face twitched and nodded in agreement. Of course, the crowd almost looked at his hand. But without looking at others, he immediately threw all the basketballs into the basket. Only for the last time, the basketball swayed a few times on the edge of the hoop, and the crowd gave a cry of despair, but the basketball finally rolled into the hoop.
He looked at his hand-it was shaking.
People were saved and looked at him with respect.
(Excerpted from Pan Ganjun's Tonight Evening News on March 24, 2005)
Thank you for your hand.
On the eve of Thanksgiving, a newspaper in Chicago, USA, invited a female primary school teacher to contribute, hoping to get some paintings drawn by children from poor families, and the contents of the paintings were exactly what he wanted to thank.
Children draw happily on white paper. The female teacher guessed that these slum children had nothing to thank, and perhaps most children would draw turkey or ice cream on the table.
When little Douglas handed in his painting, she was taken aback: he drew a hand.
Whose hand is this? This abstract performance puzzled her. The children are also guessing, and this one says, "This must be the hand of God." One said, "It's the farmer's hand, because farmers feed turkeys."
The female teacher approached little Douglas, a thin, dark boy with curly hair, and whispered to him, "Can you tell me whose hand you drew?"
"This is your hand, teacher." The child answered calmly.
It suddenly occurred to her that after school, she often took the children's sticky hands and sent them for a walk. Little Douglas's family is poor, and his shabby clothes are always dirty. The teacher's hand means a lot to little Douglas. He wants to thank it. (Excerpted from Xijiaoren Monthly, No.2, 2005, the author is anonymous)
Love growing class
A doctor went to a primary school in the south of England to visit his old classmates. As soon as she entered the campus, she saw a boy limping by on crutches. After a while, I saw a girl with gauze wrapped in her eyes, supported by a boy three or four years younger than her, and carefully walked into the classroom.
The doctor asked his old classmate in surprise, "Why are there so many disabled children here?" The old classmate smiled and explained: "This is a love growth class in our school. In order to make these naive hearts truly understand and sympathize with the sufferings and misfortunes of others, we require all students to spend a blind day, a sick day, a deaf day, a disabled day and a dumb day in one semester. For example, on the Day of the Blind, they will be blindfolded and can't see anything. Then we will assign other children to help them. This is good for the blind and those who help them. "
So the doctor came to a little girl who was blindfolded and asked kindly, "won't you feel uncomfortable because you can't see?" "No, it was a little uncomfortable at first, but I feel so lucky to think about those people who can't see for a lifetime." Then, the little girl said happily, "Since the day of the blind, the day of the sick, the day of the dumb and the day of the disabled, my love has increased 10 times. Because it is also a very happy thing to give love to those in need. "
(Excerpted from Tuanjie Daily, June 5438+1October 29, 2005, by Wang Jinyou)
The last piece of toilet paper
Once when I was burning incense in a temple, I suddenly felt very uncomfortable in my stomach. I rushed to the nearest bathroom, but on such a busy day, where could there be any toilet paper left? So I tried to find a remote bathroom with few people. I began to check from compartment to compartment to see if there was any toilet paper left. Fortunately, I actually found a small roll here, only a few layers thin. At this point, I have an urgent impulse to take it all down and use it. But then I thought, what if a poor guy like me comes here again? Out of gratitude to the last person who left me the paper, I only used a small amount of toilet paper and left the rest to the next user.
About two hours later, my stomach began to feel sick again! Like last time, I ran to the nearest bathroom first. But its toilet paper has not been replenished. I had to go back to the original remote and sparsely populated bathroom in near despair. I'm even sure there won't be any toilet paper here. To my surprise, in the compartment I used last time, all the toilet paper I left last time was still there. Originally, I wanted to do something good and leave the toilet paper to others, but that person was actually myself! I became the next user! Guess what I did? Out of gratitude to the last person who left me the paper, although I knew he was myself, I tried to use only half of the remaining toilet paper. (Excerpted from Global Times in April 2005 1, compiled by Liu Juncheng)
Give me the best answer ~ ~ finally found it. . . TamaTamaTamaTama ~