I call my story the story of a bad boy, partly to distinguish myself from those faultless young gentlemen, and partly because I really was not an angel. I may truthfully say I was a friendly, impulsive(易冲动的)teenager. I didn't want to be an angel. In short, I was a real human boy, such as you may meet anywhere in New England.

Whenever a new scholar came to our school, I used to ask him "My name's Tom Bailey; what's your name?" If the name struck me favorably, I shook hands with the new pupil cordially, but if it didn't, I would turn and walk away, for I was particular on this point.

I was born in Rivermouth almost fifty years ago, but, before I became very well acquainted with that pretty New England town, my parents moved to New Orleans. I was only eighteen months old at the time of the move, and it didn't make much difference to me where I was, because several years later, when my father proposed to take me North to be educated, I had my own view on the subject. I instantly kicked over the little boy, Sam, who happened to be standing by me at the moment, and declared that I would not be taken away to live among a lot of Yankees! You see I was what is called "a Northern man with Southern principles," I had no recollection of New England: my earliest memories were connected with the South. I knew I was born in the North, but hoped nobody would find it out. I never told my schoolmates I was a Yankee, because they talked about Yankees in a scornful way which made me feel that it was quite a shame not to be born in the South.

And this impression was strengthened by Aunt Chloe, who said, "There wasn't no gentlemen in the North no way."

    With this picture of Northern civilization in my eye, the readers will easily understand my terror at the bare thought of being transported to Rivermouth to school, and possibly will forgive me for kicking over little Sam, when my father announced this to me. As for kicking little Sam, I always did that, more or less gently, when anything went wrong with me.

    My father was greatly troubled by this violent behavior. As little Sam picked himself up, my father took my hand in his and led me thoughtfully to the library. He appeared strangely puzzled on learning the nature of my objections to going North.

"Who on earth, Tom, has filled your brain with those silly stories?" asked my father calmly.

"Aunt Chloe, sir, she told me."

My father devoted that evening and several evenings to giving me a clear account of New England: its early struggles, its progress, and its present condition. I was no longer unwilling to go North; on the contrary, the proposed journey to a new world full of wonders kept me awake nights. Long before the moving day arrived I was eager to be off. My impatience was increased by the fact that my father had purchased for me a fine little Mustang pony, and shipped it to Rivermouth two weeks before the date set for our own journey. The pony completely resigned me to the situation. The pony's name was Gitana, which is the Spanish for "gypsy", so I always called her Gypsy.

    Finally the time came to leave the vine-covered mansion among the orange-trees, to say goodbye to little Sam(I am convinced he was heartily glad to get rid of me), and to part with Aunt Chloe. I imagine them standing by the open garden gate; the tears are rolling down Aunt Chloe's cheeks; they and the old home fade away. I am never to see them again!

    While residents of wealthy nations tend to have greater life satisfaction, new research shows that those living in poorer nations report having greater meaning in life.

    These findings, published in Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological science, suggest that meaning in life may be higher in poorer nations as a result of greater religiosity (笃信宗教). As countries become richer, religion becomes less central to people's lives and they lose a sense of meaning in life.

    “Thus far, the wealth of nations has been almost always associated with longevity, health, happiness or life satisfaction,” explains psychological scientist Shigehiro Oishi of the University of Virginia. “Given that meaning in life is an important aspect of overall well-being, we wanted to look more carefully at differential patterns, correlates (相关物), and predictors for meaning in life.”

    Oishi and colleague Ed Diener of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign investigated life satisfaction, meaning, and well-being by examining data from the 2007 Gallup World Poll, a large-scale survey of over 140,000 participants from 132 countries. In addition to answering a basic life satisfaction question, participants were asked: “Do you feel your life has an important purpose or meaning?” and “Is religion an important part of your daily life?”

    The data revealed some unexpected trends: “Among Americans, those who are high in life satisfaction are also high in meaning in life,” says Oishi. “But when we looked at the societal level of analysis, we found a completely different pattern of the association between meaning in life and life satisfaction.”

    When looking across many countries, Oishi and Diener found that people in wealthier nations were more educated, had fewer children, and expressed more individualistic attitudes compared to those in poorer countries — all factors that were associated with higher life satisfaction but a significantly lower sense of meaning in life.”

    The data suggest that religiosity may play an important role: Residents of wealthier nations, where religiosity is lower, reported less meaning in life and had higher suicide rates than poorer countries.

    According to the researchers, religion may provide meaning to life to the extent that it helps people to overcome personal difficulty and cope with the struggles of working to survive in poor economic conditions:

    “Religion gives a system that connects daily experiences with the coherent whole (连贯的整体) and a general structure to one's life … and plays a critical role in constructing meaning out of extreme hardship,” the researchers write.

    Oishi and Diener hope to reproduce these findings using more comprehensive measures of meaning and religiosity, and are interested in following countries over time to track whether economic prosperity gives rise to less religiosity and less meaning in life.

    A few weeks ago, I called an Uber to take me to the Boston airport for a flight home for the holidays. As I slid into the back seat of the car, the warm intonations（语调）of the driver's accent washed over me in a familiar way.

    I learned that he was a recent West African immigrant with a few young children, working hard to provide for his family. I could relate: I am the daughter of two Ethiopian immigrants who made their share of sacrifices to ensure my success. I told him I was on a college break and headed home to visit my parents. That's how he found out I go to Harvard. An approving eye glinted at me in the rearview window, and quickly, we crossed the boundaries of rider and driver. I became his daughter, all grown up — the product of his sacrifice.

And then came the fateful question: "What do you study?" I answered "history and literature" and the pride in his voice faded, as I knew it might. I didn't even get to add "and African-American studies" before he cut in, his voice thick with disappointment, "All that work to get into Harvard, and you study history?"

    Here I was, his daughter, squandering the biggest opportunity of her life. He went on to deliver the age-old lecture that all immigrant kids know. We are to become doctors (or lawyers, if our parents are being generous) — to make money and send money back home. The unspoken demand, made across generations, which my Uber driver laid out plainly, is simple: Fulfill your role in the narrative（故事）of upward mobility so your children can do the same.

I used to feel anxious and backed into a corner by the questioning, but now as a junior in college, I'm grateful for their support more than anything. This holiday season, I've promised myself I won't huff and get annoyed at their inquiries. I won't defensively respond with "but I plan to go to law school!" when I get unrequested advice. I'll just smile and nod, and enjoy the warmth of the occasion.

    Getting rid of dirt, in the opinion of most people, is a good thing. However, there is nothing fixed about attitudes to dirt.

    In the early 16th century, people thought that dirt on the skin was a way to block out disease, as medical opinion had it that washing off dirt with hot water could open up the skin and let illnesses in. A particular danger was thought to lie in public baths. By 1538, the French king had closed the bath houses in his kingdom. So did the king of England in 1546. Thus it began a long time when the rich and the poor in Europe lived with dirt in a friendly way. Henry IV, King of France, was famously dirty. Upon learning that a nobleman had taken bath, the king ordered that, to avoid the attack of disease, the nobleman should not go out.

    Though the belief in the merit of dirt was long-lived, dirt has no longer been regarded as a nice neighbor ever since the 18th century. Scientifically speaking, cleaning away dirt is good to health. Clean water supply and hand washing are practical means of preventing disease. Yet, it seems that standards of cleanliness have moved beyond science since World War Ⅱ. Advertisements repeatedly sell the idea: clothes need to be whiter than white, cloths ever softer, surfaces to shine. Has the hate for dirt, however, gone too far?

    Attitudes to dirt still differ hugely nowadays. Many first-time parents nervously try to warn their children of touching dirt, which might be responsible for the spread of disease. On the contrary, Mary Ruebush, an American immunologist(免疫学家), encourages children to play in the dirt to build up a strong immune system. And the latter position is gaining some ground.

    Humans make mistakes. Even surgeons with years of experience are not infallible. But what if these doctors could pool their knowledge and experience together and create a surgical standard of care, to be carried out by machines?

    That's the idea behind surgical robots, which may soon perform most surgeries, from sewing up tiny wounds to performing heart procedures. Many of these operations are, in fact, already completed with the assistance of robots. But a recent test suggests that robots in the operating room may soon go a step further, performing on soft tissue completely on their own, from start to finish.

    The Smart Tissue Autonomous Robot（STAR）, successfully completed surgeries on pigs. "We're the first group to develop autonomous robotic surgery with soft-tissue surgery, and when compared to standard operation, it's better, "says Peter Kim, professor of surgery. "The idea is not to replace surgeons；it will make the surgeons better and make the procedures safer. "

    A recent Mayo Clinic study found that major surgical errors-including operating on the wrong site or side of the body, or even leaving tools or objects inside the patient-occur every one out of 22, 000 procedures. That's rare, but robots like STAR would aim to lower the number even further.

    In the da Vinci surgical system, surgeons place their arms inside instruments and use their hands to control the movement of robotic tools on the operating table from afar. The robot's every major move is controlled by surgeons, and thus its results may vary based on the surgeon's training or experience.

    STAR, on the other hand, is entirely autonomous. It's not only able to work on its own and perform surgeries with a more flexible "hand", but it's able to react to the unexpected incidents. Cutting into hard tissue like bones is one thing, but operating on moving soft tissue is far more complex. STAR reacts to a changing environment, similar to how self-driving cars are programmed to not only drive on the highway, but also react to another driver making a mistake and getting in your way.

    When Rebecca Saxon was diagnosed with cancer at the young age of 27, she thought her life was over. But in her darkest hour, inspiration struck and she found a way of turning her misfortune into advantage.

    Following her cancer treatment, Rebecca launched a successful business "Something Blue Bridal Shoes"—a unique range of wedding footwear, which came out of the fashion pictures she drew while recovering in her hospital bed.

    Rebecca, from London, says, "I started designing wedding shoes with blue soles (鞋底) when I was halfway through my cancer treatment. I had a hit when I was diagnosed with cancer but I decided that I was going to pick myself up and fight this cancer. The pictures were my release and the way I got through the many hours spent in a hospital room. I had no idea what was going to happen to me, but I knew I had to be positive if I was going to overcome this treatment. I told myself this was not going to be the end for me. I decided to fight with my negative feelings and start drawing."

    Rebecca had always loved fashion since she was younger. Several of her friends were getting married at the time when she was ill. "So at first, I would be drawing designs for wedding dresses and other clothes. But then I started drawing wedding footwear—designing shoes with blue soles which were very comfortable too. I thought it would be a lovely way of combining the 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue' tradition. Drawing really helped me deal with my treatment," said the brave girl.

    With the encouragement of her boyfriend, she turned her dreams into her reality and set up "Something Blue Bridal Shoes". Each beautiful shoe has a blue sole, combining the age-old tradition of what a bride should wear at her wedding for good luck.