原标题：韩红终生不嫁的隐情曝光……？

寒山云：世人谤我、欺我、辱我、笑我、轻我、贱我、恶我、骗我、如何处置乎?

拾得云：只是忍他、让他、由他、避他、耐他、敬他、不要理他、再待几年你且看他。

一曲《格桑花开》她开始走进人们心中

她因天籁般的歌声红遍全国

被曝出同性恋

被骂不要脸

请了80多个明星捧场

却没有一个人来

她怒了：“你们是要拿钱买棺材！”

她为了这件事情

败光了家财，也毫不犹豫跪在了地上

在娱乐这个大染缸中20年

她依然天真的像个孩子没有丝毫改变

只是他的梦想由

“唱死在舞台上”变成了“死在公益的路上”

格桑花开韩红 - 雪域光芒

她，就是 韩 红

1971年9月26日，在苍茫的青藏高原上，

一声清亮的婴儿啼哭，她出生了。

家人为她取名央金卓玛，汉名韩红。

央金，

在藏语里有着“妙音”的意思，

她的父亲是相声演员，母亲是歌唱家，

人如其名，

她继承了母亲的好嗓子。

韩红的母亲

儿时的她过得无忧无虑，

跟着母亲学习唱歌，

父亲虽常年演出却每次都有礼物，

直到6岁那年，她却没有等来礼物，

却等来了哭肿眼睛的母亲，

和父亲因为演出事故身亡的消息。

一时晴空万里的童年，

忽然灰暗如乌云翻滚。

小时候的韩红

丧事后，母亲被派去上海进修，

她被寄养在邻居家，

邻居自然不比父母，略显刻薄，

稍有不顺意便将气撒在她身上。

生活的一切琐事

开始压只有半人高的小孩肩头。

寄人篱下的滋味，让她快速成熟，

要学会从一个眼神中读懂大人的情绪，

要用最快的速度，

猜出他们话里的弦外之音。

那些冷遇和辛苦，

她后来提起，仍觉痛入骨髓的寒凉。

但也许因为有了这样的经历，

让她内心种下了菩提的种子……

韩红一家

母亲再婚后她成了“无父无母的孤儿”，

只好独自一人投奔奶奶，

三天三夜的路程，

一小包饼干是她全部的行李，

她心里满是恐惧，连厕所都不敢上。

到北京的奶奶家中已是夜里11点，

她进门第一件事是拿扫帚扫地，

她讨好地说：

“奶奶，您看我多会干活儿，

而且我不喜欢吃肉。”

稚嫩的脸上洋溢着笑容，

而奶奶看到的却只有辛酸。

沉重生活之下让她内心早已斑驳，

老太太看着骨瘦如柴的孙女。

老人眼泪止不住地往下落：

“乖孙女儿，奶奶不用你干活，

以后啊，家里的肉都给你吃。”

从此，有奶奶的地方终于有了爱。

韩红与奶奶

每一个时代都有无声的暴力都存在

学校的同学欺负她“没爹没娘”，

她渐渐变得孤僻，性格也很暴躁，

只要谁嘲笑她是个孤儿，

她就必要和对方打一架。

久而久之，没人再愿意接近她，

她总是孤独的一个人躲在角落里。

在最无助的时光里，

是音乐，

让她拥有了仰望星空的梦想。

“我懂音乐，音乐也懂我，

我想说的话都在音乐里，

在音乐面前，我无需伪装。”

虽然没有姣好的身材，

但出色的嗓音让她完成了她的梦想，

果不其然，1985年，

她被顺利选进第二炮兵政治部文工团。

那时的她瘦削干练，

还组建起乐队，打扮时髦，

在一群美女中丝毫不逊色。

右一韩红

韩红，右一

然而，一场突如其来的大病，

毁了她的一切。

在生病期间，

她不得不使用激素性药物，

此后她越来越胖，

想尽办法都没能瘦下来。

她去参加比赛，评委的评价是：

“唱功很好，形象不佳。”

整整三年，屡屡参赛屡屡碰壁。

但上帝为你关上了门

必然会为你打开一扇窗

她想拍一支MV做最后一搏，

那天，奶奶给她拿来了自己卖冰棍糊纸盒，

攒了整整10年的30000元，

“孙女儿，奶奶不懂什么MTV，

但知道你爱唱歌，这些钱你拿去，

奶奶只能帮你这么多了。”

她的第一支MV《喜马拉雅》出现了，

凭此一路过关斩将，

获得中央电视台音乐大赛铜奖。

还在1995年，

考入解放军艺术学院音乐系。

之后的事实证明，她赢了。

2000年，

她终于发行了自己的第一张唱片，

签售那天，队伍排满了两条长街。

人们随手打开广播，

播放的不是《天路》，

就是《美丽的神话》。

天路韩红 - 感动

她想着奶奶终于不用靠卖冰棍谋生了。

可人树欲静而风不止，子欲养而亲不待。

2005年，奶奶脑溢血走了，

她的天一下子塌了。

她徘徊在空落落的小院，

“奶奶......奶奶......奶奶......”

可再也没有人回应。

最爱她的人走了

……

披麻戴孝的日子里

奶奶在生命最后时光的嘱咐深深记着

“大红，什么时候奶奶不在了，

你不能忘记要做好人，行善事。”

忧郁了快三年，她终于想明白了，

如今这世上已经没有人爱我，

那我就去爱别人。

自那之后，她活着只为一件事：

慈 善

她将目光投向两个群体，老人和孩子，

她说：“老人是奶奶，孩子是我。”

从2008年起，

她发起“百人援助”系列公益活动，

迄今为止，11年时间里，

哪里有需要援助的地方，

他们就出现在哪里。

她带领近200人的团队，

为全国各地送去公益医疗服务，

直接受益群众达上万人次。

累计义诊超五千人，

捐赠药箱4万余个，

无论条件多艰苦，环境多恶劣，

每一次援助都可以看到她忙碌的身影。

她曾对先天性心脏病患儿的母亲，

拍着胸脯说“这个孩子，我来救”；

她在白血病患儿会诊中，

毫不犹豫地说：

“需要的20万经费，我来出。”

在“百人援陕”大型公益活动中，

她对所有患者家属说：

“我帮你们，我敢承担这个责任，也有勇气！”

多么有魄力的一句话，

瞬间让患者家属泪流满面。

每一次援助，

她都亲自带队行在路上，

无论路况多复杂、高寒缺氧，

办一场义诊，她的头发白了一半；

上一次高原，她的心脏落下了病根。

为老人献爱心

捐赠给孩子衣物

为生病的孩子筹钱

她做慈善从来不宣传，觉得不该声张，

不合影也不签名。

但在因2014年，

某些明星接连因吸毒被抓，

污点艺人的消息，

占据了新闻的满屏满版。

她决心让这个圈子里多些正能量，

她说：“我以前做公益不敢宣传，

怕人家说我是作秀，但如今头条，

都被那些吸毒嫖娼的人占着，

多我一个韩红做慈善秀就怎么了？”

她将媒体邀请至援助队伍，

她和侄子张一山，早上4点钟就起来，

一起和环卫工人们扫大街，

但原本是一个很暖心的活动。

但是放到网上之后，竟得到的是骂声一片，

铺天盖地的质疑涌来，

很多网友说她是在作秀，

为了证明这并非只是宣传，

只好公开了所有明星捐款的数额。

这张表就是明星们对环卫工人捐款的数额，她自己捐款十万元。

结果又得罪了不少圈里人，

但既然走出这一步，她从没想过要退缩。

“我知道会有人骂我，但我老韩不怕，

我们中国人对于慈善事业参与度，

不如外国，我要的就是关注度，

才能带动更多的社会资源，

投入到慈善里面来。

我个性就这样，你们爱骂什么骂去，

我把评论关了，我也不看了，

我把事儿做到了就行了。”

她一向耿直坦率，

因为说话得罪人的亏，她一直没少吃。

有人说，一次她邀请80多位明星，

来参加慈善晚会，

结果很多明星找理由推脱不来，

性格火爆的她，

当场痛斥那些言而无信的明星：

赚这么多钱却不做慈善，

拿钱去等着买棺材用？！

为了慈善，

她不怕得罪整个娱乐圈。

关于她道德绑架明星捐款的事，

一度被人诟病。

2015年应她号召，

蒋欣、谭维维、叶祖新等明星，

以志愿者身份参与她的“百人援青”团队。

（援助青海）

援助结束后，

为了感谢众位好友的助力慈善，

跪地高举酒杯酬谢众人。

为慈善而卑躬屈膝，

这一幕令众人感慨落泪。

蒋欣与她相拥而泣，

蒋欣说：“十分心疼韩红，

她没有看上去那么坚强，

经常在房间里吸氧，但为了大家在硬撑。”

其他明星当场表态，

“明年还跟着韩红一起做慈善，

老大去哪，我们就去哪，我们明年见。”

她用身体力行感召着身边的人。

在那段时间里她说：

“那时候的我，绝对是卑躬屈膝、

低三下四的。”

有时别人当面答应给予资助，

但转头对方就玩起消失，

眼看项目开展资金却无法到位，

她只能厚着脸皮再去求人。”

“这些年做慈善，我的确快捐空了。”

然而这一起付出得到的却是——

“就是作秀，天天嘴上慈善，心里阴暗。”

作秀？

从2008年开始到现在，

她个人总计捐款差不多有4000万！

累计筹募捐款捐物超过一亿元！

一次是秀，捐十万是秀，

那么11年的慈善，

几乎倾家荡产的捐款捐物，也能叫秀？！

2016年韩红是明星慈善榜第一名

身正不怕影子斜

她说：“如果做公益是做秀，

我欢迎大家一起来做秀。”

有人为此骂她不要脸，

这么丑还来蹭热度，

她霸气回应：“我做公益十多年，

为了公益我从来就不要脸！”

栾树韩红

然而娱乐圈从不会放过任何一个人

即使没有人质疑她的慈善了

舆论又开始关注她的私生活

When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a “repo man,” picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah “John” Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a “traditional Muslim woman” who was a “conservative, obedient housewife.” Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. “My parents were very open with me about that,” he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. “So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?” the girl asked. “Lightning bolts went off in my head,” according to Jobs. “I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, ‘No, you have to understand.’ They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, ‘We specifically picked you out.’ Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.” Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. “I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,” said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. “He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.” Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. “Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,” he said. “It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.” Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs “full of broken glass,” and it helps to explain some of his behavior. “He who is abandoned is an abandoner,” she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. “The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,” he said. “That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.” Jobs dismissed this. “There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,” he insisted. “Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I’ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.” He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his “adoptive” parents or implied that they were not his “real” parents. “They were my parents 1,000%,” he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: “They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.” Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. “Steve, this is your workbench now,” he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. “I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,” he said, “because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.” Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. “He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.” His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. “I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,” Paul later recalled. “He never really cared too much about mechanical things.” “I wasn’t that into fixing cars,” Jobs admitted. “But I was eager to hang out with my dad.” Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. “He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.” Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. “My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he’d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.” Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. “Every weekend, there’d be a junkyard trip. We’d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.” He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. “He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.” This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. “My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.” The Jobses’ house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American “everyman,” Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. “Eichler did a great thing,” Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. “His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.” Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. “I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,” he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. “It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.” Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. “He wasn’t that bright,” Jobs recalled, “but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, ‘I can do that.’ He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.” As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, “What is it you don’t understand about the universe?” Jobs replied, “I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.” He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. “You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.” Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying “She’s here, but you’re not coming in.” He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne’er-do-wells tended to be engineers. “When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,” Jobs recalled. “But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.” He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. “The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,” he said. “I fell totally in love with it.” Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. “You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,” he recalled. “It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.” In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. “Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,” Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a “microprocessor.” Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled “Silicon Valley USA.” The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. “Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,” Jobs said. “That made me want to be a part of it.” Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. “Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,” Jobs recalled. “I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.” The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. “He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,” Jobs recalled. “He would bring me stuff to play with.” As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. “He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.” Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. “So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.” “No, it needs an amplifier,” his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. “It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.” “I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, ‘Well I’ll be a bat out of hell.’” Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. “He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.” Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. “It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.” This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. “Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.” So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. “I was kind of bored for the first few years

网传韩红许志安图片

两段绯闻后，她再也没有任何恋情，

而且至今未婚，

很多人又臆测她是不是有病，

还说她是同性恋，

可这背后的真实原因，却让人无比心酸！

她有个养子，名叫韩厚厚，

在1999年一次事故中，

他的父母在生命最后一刻，

将他高高举起。

救援人员赶到时，

他在父亲怀中安然无恙，

而他的父母，却走了。

她知道这个事情后，

决定收养这个孩子，

《天亮了》就是为他创作的歌。

天亮了韩红 - 醒了

而就在她收养了这个孩子以后，

又收到不少质疑声，

有些人怀疑她在作秀，

以后有了自己的孩子，

还会对韩厚厚好吗？

她抱着还是婴儿的韩厚厚，

发誓说：

“我这辈子不会再有孩子了，

为了你我终身不嫁，

从此以后我就是你的妈妈。

现在她已经48岁，

为了信守诺言，

曾放弃两次结婚的机会，

她说：“自己生不生我不遗憾，

我有好多孩子，200多个呢。”

这些都是她收养的孩子。

韩红和韩厚厚

韩红和孤儿

曾经，她的梦想是“唱死在舞台上”，

如今，她决心“死在公益的路上”。

每次进山区做公益，她都坐第一辆车。

因为山区路不好走，

汽车总是撞山壁、遭遇坍塌，

但她总是冲在前面

“如果我过去了，

后面的车也会安全通过的，

如果前面发生危险，那么死的是我，

不会让你们死的。”

2008年汶川地震，

她所乘汽车在前往都江堰的途中，

与一辆运土货车相撞，

车门被撞烂，车窗的玻璃也严重破损，

万幸的是，车祸并没有造成伤亡。

但后来的一次，就没这么幸运了。

她带领车队向舟曲灾区运送过冬物资，

途中不慎撞上护栏发生侧翻，

她受伤最为严重，

出现头痛、站不稳等症状，

肋骨处出现肿胀，

并带有内出血的危险。

可因为事故发生在荒凉地带，

无法就近送医，

所以在简单的处理后，

她强忍伤痛带着车队再次上路。

多年辛苦奔波，

遇到危险情况数不胜数，

她把自己捐穷了，身体也累垮了。

让人感到心酸的是，她说，

曾因为检查出心脏有病，

从那以后再也不敢到医院去体检，

她担心自己一旦倒下，

公益事业难以继续下去。

朋友曾多次劝她停一停，

好好享受一下生活，

她婉言拒绝：

“我能维持每天的一粥一饭就够了，

即便赚来钱我也会投入到慈善中。”

她所谓的一粥一饭，

就是馒头蘸着辣酱，再配上一碗清粥。

她说：

“我一直不是一个很聪明的人，

很憨很傻，一路跌跌撞撞走到今天。

我不说谎，不作假，不虚伪，

我用我的良心一点一点摸爬滚打。

有人说我很笨很傻，

很容易就可以赚到我的便宜，

我告诉他们，

我笨就有我笨的作为，

我做公益，没有结果，没有答案，

所以最终的答案更接近天意。”

没有翅膀也要飞翔韩红 - 空

月溅星河，长路漫漫，

风烟残尽，独影阑珊，

她是一个曾被抛弃的孩子，

可她却愿意把温暖带给这个世界，

她曾经被人诽谤嘲笑，

却把所有的爱给了需要她的人们。

不追名逐利，看淡生死，不求回报，

她唯一的心愿就是：“如果有下辈子，

我希望能够出生在一个幸福的家庭，

奶奶还是我的奶奶。”

小编忽然想起一位母亲写给孩子的信：

“愿你有好运气，如果没有，

愿你在不幸中学会慈悲。

愿你被很多人爱，如果没有，

愿你在寂寞中学会宽容。”

今天，让我们一起，

向一生为慈善献身的韩红，

致以无限的尊敬，

你才是真正值得追的明星！的尊敬，

你才是真正值得追的明星！