M: Have you seen my school bag, Mom I’ve been looking for it everywhere.
W: I hope you didn’t leave it in school. You never know where you put your things. Where did you last see it
M: Last night before I went to bed, I think. I remember putting it on the desk
W: Really If you put it there, it should still be there. No one has been to your room. So it must be here somewhere.
M: Yes, but where That’s what I want to know. Oh, dear, it’s about the time for the school bus.
W: Hey, what’s that under your blanket at the foot of your bed
It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, carrier, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of the dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday. " Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
"Jack, did you hear me"
"Oh, sorry, Morn. Yes, I heard you. it’ s been so long since I thought of him. I’ m sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.
"Well, he didn’ t forget you. Every time I saw him he’ d ask how you were doing. He’ d reminisce (回忆) about the many days you spent
A. Because college and career prevented him from remembering Mr. Belser.
B. Because jack was too busy with his business and family to think about Mr. Belser.
C. Because jack was too busy realizing his dreams to think about Mr. Belser.
D. Because his present busy life washed away his children memories.
If you had asked me then if I would accept a job as a restaurant critic for The New York Times, or any established publication, I would have replied, without a second thought, "Of course not!" And not just because I did not want to think of myself as an ambitious sort. Working in restaurants was honest labor; anyone could see that. Writing about them for the mainstream press was not; it felt like joining the enemy.
But reviewing was fun, so much fun that when mainstream publishers started paying me for my opinions, I didn’t do the decent thing. Before I knew it, I had stopped cooking professionally. Then I stopped cooking altogether. "She’s joined the leisure class," my friends said.
I disarmed my critics by inviting them along; nobody I knew could afford to eat out and nobody refuseD. We went with equal amounts of guilt and pleasure, with a feeling that we were tr
A. she went on and on working in restaurants
B. she lived a luxurious life for many years
C. she kept working for publications until she got a credit card
D. she went on and on writing as a restaurant critic
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