（长宁）

 

When I was in college, a man named Henry worked as a custodian (看门人) in our student union building. White-haired, with a Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Henry could usually be seen in a baseball cap, a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

He was the custodian, and he was the most respected and most well-known person in the building. Everyone loved Henry, and it was because of all the implicit ways he expressed his love for everyone around him. Henry didn’t have to say, “I love you.” He lived his love.

Henry was always excited when he met someone new, and he wanted to know everything about them. He felt it was important to do things for people he valued. And Henry seemed to value everyone he met. He brought in articles or cartoons for certain people, went out of his way to introduce people to each other, kept dozens of names and birthdays in his wallet so he could send cards, and helped students keep in touch with graduates who had written to him. He even assisted students who didn’t have enough money to buy their books.

Henry taught me --- and many others he supported --- how to live life to the fullest. Not by skydiving or exploring some foreign countries, but by appreciating where you are in life and valuing those around you.

The funny thing is that despite all he did and taught us, Henry truly believed that he was the lucky one --- that he was the one who was gaining so much by getting to know us. But all of us who remember Henry know that we were the ones who were truly blessed.

We will never forget the man who taught us that best way to say “I love you” often has little to do with the words.

 

65.   What does the word “implicit” in Paragraph 2 most probably mean?