From a reader in Charlotte, North Carolina

Back in 2011, Brazilian fisherman Joao Pereira de Souza, 71, found a tiny penguin on a local beach. The penguin was covered with oil and close to death, so Joao cleaned his feathers and fed him a daily diet of fish until his strength returned. He named the penguin Dindim, and the bird stayed with Joao 11 months, and then disappeared. But a few months later, Dindim returned.

                                                                                                      Rio de Janeiro Federal University
He spotted Joao on the beach and followed him home, wagging his tail like a dog and honking with delight. Ever since then, Dindim has spent eight months a year with Joao and the rest of the time breeding off the coast of Chile and Argentina. It's believed the penguin swims up to 5,000 miles each year to be reunited with the man who saved his life. "No one else is allowed to touch him," Joao says. "He pecks them if they do. He lays in my lap; lets me give him showers; allows me to feed him sardines and to pick him up. He arrives in June and leaves in February and every year he is more affectionate and happier to see me." Some experts believe Dindim thinks Joao is part of his family, and Dindim may be correct, because Joao loves the penguin "like my own child."

Fifth grader thanks his teachers

Beginning last October, fifth-grader Cody Dortch of Edmond, Oklahoma, began hoarding money. He did odd jobs for neighbors; stashed his Christmas and birthday money, and would not tell why. He had a secret plan to thank all his elementary school teachers as he prepared to move up to middle school. He wanted to take them all to dinner.

It took Cody six months to raise the $200 needed to treat his teachers to a special night out. He bought each teacher a rose, sent them invitations, and made a speech at the restaurant explaining that dinner was on him.  "Such an honor and privilege to have had Cody in my class," said teacher Andrea Brousseau. "He's such a light, and his parents are to be applauded too."  Cody's mom said, "These ladies did not just teach my child. They helped raise him to become who he is today."

"This would have to be divine intervention."

On November 5, 1984, a 19-year-old sophomore at San Francisco State University gave birth to a daughter in her dormitory. She'd concealed her pregnancy, so she wrapped the newborn in a dirty towel, put her in a box, and left her in the dorm laundry room. Before long, the baby was spotted by a student putting his clothes in a dryer. He hurried to the washer room next door and asked, "Did you know there's a baby in a box in here?" Fortunately, Esther Wannenmacher, a 21-year-old nursing student taking a course in newborn care, was washing her clothes. She swept her finger through the baby's mouth to be sure her airway was clear, but became concerned about the little girl's bluish color and ordered fellow students to call 911. "I don't really believe in luck," said Esther, now 53. "This would have to be divine intervention."

                                                                                                                                     Jillian Sobol
The baby was later adopted by Sam and Helene Sobol, but despite her university birth, higher education felt beyond Jillian Sobol's reach. She had dyslexia, attention deficit disorder and learning disabilities. But she persevered in life, just as she did in the first hours after her birth. Now 31, she just graduated with a bachelor's degree from San Francisco University, the same campus where she was born. She tracked down the nursing student who saved her life, and her biological father attended her graduation luncheon recently. Looking back, Jillian believes her life is a "story of hope, joy, optimism, family and San Francisco State."

Historic first at Olympics this summer

Worldwide, about 42,000 people are forced to leave their homes every 24 hours.  Last year about 60 million people were either refugees, asylum seekers, or displaced within their own countries. Few events create as much national pride as the Olympics, but refugee athletes cannot compete if they have no flag to march behind and no national anthem to play at opening ceremonies. That will change this summer at the Rio games.

This August, the 206 national delegations will be joined by a different kind of team. For the first time in history, Team ROA (Refugee Olympic Athletes) will represent all the refugees in the world. According to IOC president Thomas Bach, "These refugee athletes will be welcomed to the games with the Olympic flag and the Olympic anthem. They will have a home together with all the other 11,000 athletes in the Olympic Village. We want to send a message of hope to all the refugees of the world."

A new face of the "American Dream"

Alix Idrache came to the United States as an immigrant from Haiti. He never thought he'd attend college, but he earned his citizenship and served as an enlisted man with the Maryland National Guard before his appointment to West Point. During the past four years, he rose through the ranks to be named Regimental Commander among his classmates. Standing ramrod straight with tears running down his face, he graduated this month.

                                                                                                                                U.S. Army
His first assignment is to Fort Rucker, Alabama, where he will begin flight training to become a pilot, something he calls truly humbling. "Thank you for giving me a shot at the American Dream," he said, "and may God bless America, the greatest country on earth."

Long arm of the law has hand of compassion

Massachusetts State Police trooper Luke Bonin had just left court when he drove by a homeless mother of four, Lynn Murphy. She was panhandling on Davol Street in Fall River, MA. Bonin drove past her, but didn't forget her. Minutes later he drove back and stopped. She was sure she was in trouble and offered to leave, but he presented two meals he'd just purchased and invited her to take one. "I thought he was just going to give me the meal," Murphy said, "but when he said, 'Come around the back. It's such a beautiful day. We'll have a picnic,' it touched my heart."

                                                                                                                                            Facebook
Unknown to the picnickers, Jake Morse drove by and snapped this photo. He uploaded it to Facebook where it received more than 70,000 likes. Murphy said, "(Bonin) didn't know me from Adam. I'm a homeless panhandler and he took the time out of his day and bought us lunch, and had it with me." She said the encounter made her feel significant. Massachusetts State Police commended Bonin "for your selfless act, and for doing the right thing."

"She was mine and I was hers."

What's the secret to lasting love? Is it her hourglass figure, or his fancy car? Is it a shared interest in art or music? Or can love be born from agony?  In his book, "My Germany," Lev Raphael remembers April, 1945, when his dad and 2,500 other prisoners from the Nazi Bergen-Belsen death camp were packed into a train without food or water to prevent Allied forces from setting them free. The train cars (like the one shown here) remained sealed shut as the train wandered aimlessly for a week.

On April 13, two American tanks appeared and the Nazi guards fled. When the locked cattle cars were opened, the stench was so bad that many in the 30th infantry division vomited. American troops took the starving Jews from the train and cared for them at a former Wehrmacht base, now a Displaced Persons Camp. The clean, heated quarters were paradise for Jews who had been treated like animals for years. Lev's mother had escaped from a slave labor camp 16 miles away and was already on the base when his dad arrived. They had lost everything -- home, family, country. There was not time for courting. His dad asked her, "Do you like me?" She answered "yes" and his dad later recalled that, from that moment on, "she was mine and I was hers." Their marriage lasted 54 years.