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    In 1943, when I was 4, my parents moved from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, to Fairbanks, Alaska, where adventure was never very far away.

    We arrived in the summer, just in time to enjoy the midnight sun. All that sunlight was fantastic for Mum's vegetable garden. Working in the garden at midnight tended to throw her timing off, so she didn't care much about my bedtime.

    Dad was a Railway Express agent and Mum was his clerk. That left me in a mess. I usually managed to find some trouble to get into. Once I had a little fire going in the dirt basement of a hotel. I had tried to light a barrel(桶) of paint but couldn't really get a good fire going. The smoke got pretty bad, though, and when I made my exit, a crowd and the police were there to greet me. The policemen took my matches and drove me home.

    Mum and Dad were occupied in the garden and Dad told the police to keep me, and they did! I had a tour of the prison before Mum rescued me. I hadn't turned 5 yet.

    As I entered kindergarten, the serious cold began to set in. Would it surprise you to know that I soon left part of my tongue on a metal handrail at school?

    As for Leonhard Seppala, famous as a dog sledder(驾雪橇者), I think I knew him well because I was taken for a ride with his white dog team one Sunday. At the time I didn't realize what a superstar he was, but I do remember the ride well. I was wrapped(包裹) heavily and well sheltered from the freezing and blowing weather.

    In 1950, we moved back to Coeur d'Alene, but we got one more Alaskan adventure when Leonhard invited us eight years later by paying a visit to Idaho to attend a gathering of former neighbors of Alaska.

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    As a child, I started learning to play the piano, my favorite musical 1 but I was forced to give up when I started my middle school2 I could concentrate more on my studies.

    It's one of my biggest3 to stop practicing the piano when I recall sadly today. During the following years, I kept telling my piano teacher that I would4However, I didn't keep my promise because I was 5 with my study6 I lost touch with my teacher. Some years later, my teacher died. I was very sad because I lost such a good teacher. She was a very warm and gentle person. It hurts me to think she may have been 7 that I never returned. I haven't taken lessons since then but to be honest, I 8 to. Sitting at the piano, I couldn't help recalling many 9 ---times of my practising at home and playing before my teacher and one time my teacher 10 me after I played entire pieces of music wrong in front of her colleagues. I was so 11 that I could hardly say anything. But her 12helped ease my shame. These memories13good or bad, never caused my14 for playing the piano again.

    This thought then led me to think that 15 is like music, and that we all try to play different 16 in the instrument of our life. Sometimes the pitch (音高) is17when we play it well, but sometimes we are out of tone. However, we all continue to create our own 18style of music. No matter what style our music is, it is 19 that we sing the songs of joy, quietness and love. Though I may never make it back to piano lessons, it doesn't 20 that I've stopped making music.