On one of her trips to New York several years ago，Eudora Welty decided to take a couple of New York friends out to dinner．They settled in at a comfortable East Side cafe and within minutes，another customer was approaching their table．

“Hey，aren’t you from Mississippi？”the elegant，white﹣haired writer remembered being asked by the stranger．“I’m from Mississippi too．”

 Without a second thought，the woman joined the Welty party．When her dinner partner showed up，she also pulled up a chair．

“They began telling me all the news of Mississippi，”Welty said．“I didn’t know what my New York friends were thinking．”

    Taxis on a rainy New York night are rarer than sunshine．By the time the group got up to leave，it was pouring outside．Welty’s new friends immediately sent a waiter to find a cab．Heading back downtown toward her hotel，her big﹣city friends were amazed at the turn of events that had changed their Big Apple dinner into a Mississippi.

“My friend said：‘Now we believe your stories，’”Welty added．And I said：‘Now you know．These are the people that make me write them．’”

Sitting on a sofa in her room，Welty，a slim figure in a simple gray dress，looked pleased with this explanation．

“I don’t make them up，”she said of the characters in her fiction these last 50 or so years．“I don’t have to．”

    Beauticians，bartenders，piano players and people with purple hats，Welty’s people come from afternoons spent visiting with old friends，from walks through the streets of her native Jackson，Miss，from conversations overheard on a bus．It annoys Welty that，at 78，her left ear has now given out．Sometimes，sitting on a bus or a train，she hears only a fragment（片段） of a particularly interesting story．

What happened when Welty was with her friends at the cafe？

What can we learn about the characters in Welty’s fiction？

“Where did she come from？”asked an astonished sprinting world，before concluding that she must be one of those one﹣hit wonders that spring up from time to time，only to disappear again without signs．But Shelly Ann was to prove that she was anything but a one﹣hit wonder．At the Beijing Olympic she swept away any doubts about her ability to perform consistently by becoming the first Jamaican woman ever to win the 100 meters Olympic gold．She did it again one year on at the World Championship in Briton，becoming world champion with a time of 10.73﹣the fourth record ever．

Shelly﹣Ann is a little woman with a big smile．She has a mental toughness that did not come about by chance．Her journey to becoming the fastest woman on earth has been anything but smooth and effortless．She grew up in one of Jamaica’s toughest inner﹣city communities known as Waterhouse，where she lived in a one﹣room apartment，sleeping four in a bed with her mother and two brothers．Waterhouse，one  of the poorest communities in Jamaica，is a really violent and overpopulated place．Several of Shelly﹣Ann's friends and family were caught up in the killings； one of her cousins was shot dead only a few streets away from where she lived．Sometimes her family didn’t have enough to eat．She ran at the school championships barefooted because she couldn’t afford shoes．Her mother Maxime，one of a family of fourteen，had been an athlete herself as a young girl but，like so many other girls in Waterhouse，had to stop after she had her first baby．Maxime’s early entry in to the adult world with its responsibilities gave her the determination to ensure that her kids would not end up in Waterhouse's roundabout of poverty．One of the first things Maxime used to do with Shelly﹣Ann was taking her to the track，and she was ready to sacrifice everything．

It didn't take long for Shelly﹣Ann to realize that sports could be her way out of Waterhouse．On a summer evening in Beijing in 2008，all those long，hard hours of work and commitment finally bore fruit．The barefoot kid who just a few years previously had been living in poverty，surrounded by criminals and violence，had written a new chapter in the history of sports．

But Shelly﹣Ann’s victory was far greater than that．The night she won Olympic gold in Beijing，the routine murders in Waterhouse and the drug wars in the neighbouring streets stopped．The dark cloud above one of the world’s toughest criminal neighbourhoods simply disappeared for a few days．“I have so much fire burning for my country，”Shelly said．She plans to start a foundation for homeless children and wants to build a community centre in Waterhouse．She hopes to inspire the Jamaicans to lay down their weapons．She intends to fight to make it a woman’s as well as a man’s world．

As Muhammad Al i puts it，“Champions aren't made in gyms．Champions are made from something they have deep inside them．A desire，a dream，a vision．”One of the things Shelly﹣Ann can be proud of is her understanding of this truth．

I had one trip last year where I was caught by a hurricane in America．I picked up the stem cells in Providence，Rhode Island，and was meant to fly to Washington then back to London．But when I arrived at the check﹣in desk at Providence，the lady on the desk said：”Well，I’m really sorry，I’ve got some bad news for you﹣there are no fights from Washington．”So I took my box and put it on the desk and I said：”In this box are some stem cells that are urgently needed for a patient﹣please，please，you’ve got to get me back to the United Kingdom．”She just dropped everything．She arranged for a flight on a small plane to be held for me．re﹣routed（改道）me through Newark and got me back to the UK even earlier than originally scheduled．

For this courier job，you’re consciously aware than that box you’re got something that is potentially going to save somebody’s life．