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Five years ago, when I taught art at a school in Seattle, I used Tinkertoys as a test at the beginning of a term to find out something about my students. I put a small set of Tinkertoys in front of each student, and said:"Make something out of the Tinkertoys. You have 45 minutes today - and 45minutes each day for the rest of the week."

   A few students hesitated to start. They waited to see the rest of the class would do. Several others checked the instructions and made something according to one of the model plans provided. Another group built something out of their own imaginations.

   Once I had a boy who worked experimentally with Tinkertoys in his free time. His constructions filled a shelf in the art classroom and a good part of his bedroom at home. I was delighted at the presence of such a student. Here was an exceptionally creative mind at work. His presence meant that I had an unexpected teaching assistant in class whose creativity would infect(感染) other students.

Encouraging this kind of thinking has a downside. I ran the risk of losing those students who had a different style of thinking. Without fail one would declare, "But I'm just not creative."

"Do you dream at night when you're asleep?"

"Oh, sure."

"So tell me one of your most interesting dreams." The student would tell something wildly imaginative. Flying in the sky or in a time machine or growing three heads. "That's pretty creative. Who does that for you?"

"Nobody. I do it."

"Really-at night, when you're asleep?"

"Sure."

"Try doing it in the daytime, in class, okay?"

    “A good book might clarify something you knew little about, transform your world view, or move you in ways you didn't think possible. The Soul of an Octopus(章鱼)delivers on all three, ”the magazine New Scientist commented.

    After writing about birds, pigs and tigers, US naturalist Sy Montgomery decided to choose these many-footed animals as the subject of her latest book, The Soul of an Octopus: a surprising exploration into the wonder of consciousness.

    “Here is animal with poisonous liquid like a snake，a beak(喙)like a parrot，and ink like an old-fashioned pen. It can weigh as much as a man and extend as long as a car, yet it can pour its baggy; boneless body through an opening the size of all orange. It can change color and shape. It has a tongue covered with teeth. It can taste with its skin.” Montgomery explained to the National Geographic on why octopuses inspired her.

    What Montgomery is able to show in The Soul of an Octopus is that octopuses are creatures who exhibit personality, intelligence and emotion, despite having nervous systems completely different from our own. She uses different experiments to show that they possess consciousness as well as individual personalities. For example, based on her research, she finds out that Octavia, an octopus caught in the wild, is friendly and good at multi-tasking. And Kali, another octopus，who has been living at the New England Aquarium, is playful and loves exploring.

    Montgomery is a good storyteller. Through her study of, and communication with, these extraordinary creatures she shares what she learns from both science and her experiences. Her skillful writing presents facts together with personal description, which makes the book very informative but easy to read.

    There exist cruel wars, fighting and sadness in the world today, so it's not only necessary, but also essential to have a good sense of humor just to help us go through difficult times in out lives. Putting a smile on someone's face when you know they are feeling depressed, as the saying goes, makes me feel good and warms my heart.

    How would you feel if you could not joke around with wife, husband, child, co-worker, neighbor, close friend, or even just someone that you are standing in line with at your corner store? I am always saying things that make others smile or laugh, even if I don't know the person I'm joking around with. My Grandma always found humor in everything she did, even if it was the hardest job anyone could imagine. This not only relieves stress in any situation, but also is a common manner to speak to others that are around you.

    I know of a few people that don't have a funny bone in their bodies, as they say. Everyone around them could be rolling on the floor after hearing a great joke and they would sit there without the slightest smile on their faces. They don't get the joke that makes others laugh. I am, busting a gut while they just sit there, looking at me as if I were from outer space. How can people not get a really funny joke?

    Laughing is essential to keep your stress levels under control. Without humor, we would find ourselves with a lot of psychological problems, or on a lot of medications to keep us from going crazy. There is too much sadness and bring a little light into our lives.

    Therefore, I believe our best medicine is to get together and tell some jokes and have some fun laughing together.

    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.

    I never saw my father home from work late or ill, nor did I ever see my father take a "night out with the boys". He had no hobbies but just took care of his family.

    For 22 years, since I left home for college, my father called me every Sunday at 9:00 am. He was always interested in my life—how my family was doing. The calls even came when he and my mother were in Australia, England or Florida.

    Nine years ago when I bought me first house, my father, 67 years old, spent eight hours a day for three days, painting my house. He would not allow me to pay someone to have it done. All he asked was a glass of iced tea, and that I hold a paintbrush for him and talk to him. But I was too busy, for I had a law practice to run, and I could not take the time to hold the paintbrush, or talk to my father.

    Five years ago, my 71-year-old father spent five hours putting together a swing set (秋千) for my daughter. Again, all he asked was that I get him a glass of iced tea, and talk to him. But again, I had laundry to do, and the house to clean.

    The morning on Sunday, January 16, 1995, my father telephoned me as usual, this time he had seemed to have forgotten some things we had discussed the week before. I had to get to church, and I cut the conversation short.

    The call came at 4:40 am. That day my father was sent to hospital in Florida. I got on a plane immediately, and I vowed (发誓) that when I arrived, I would make up for the lost time, and have a nice long talk with him and really get to know him.

    I arrived in Florida at 1:00 am, but my father had passed away at 9:12 pm. This time it was he who did not have time to talk, or time to wait for me.

    In the years since his death I have learnt much about my father, and even more about every single day.

    If American waterways had ever been voted on the yearbook, the Buffalo River could easily have been named Ugliest. It could be hard to find hope there. It took decades for public perception of the river to shift. But activist citizens, who collaborated with industry, government, and environment groups never gave up on their polluted river—the Buffalo River gradually went from being considered a lost cause to a place worth fighting for. And by now the cleaned—up water is one of Buffalo'S biggest attractions.

    By the 1960s, the river was seen as one of the worst sources of pollution pouring into the Great Lakes. The Buffalo River had caught fire many times. The surface had an oily layer, and any fish caught there were not eatable.

    The waterway's fate started shifting in the mid-1960s. Stanley Spisiak was a local Polish—American jeweler by day, but by evening he was the kind of guy who'd chase down dumpers(垃圾车)he spotted on the Buffalo River. By 1966 he found himself winning the National Wildlife Federation's "Water Conservationist of the Year" award. And before long he got a nickname:" Mr. Buffalo River. "But there was only so much he could do—the river was still declared biologically dead in 1969.

    Jill Spisiak Jedlicka is his great-grandniece. She picks up where he left off by directing the river's protector organization, Buffalo Niagara Waterkeeper. Professor Schneekloth and seven friends founded the organization as an all-volunteer nonprofit in 1989, after organizing the first river cleanup that year. Today the group employs 27 full-time workers and has helped oversee the Buffalo River's $100 million restoration.

    So far, the Buffalo River's water quality has restored, but it is still an ongoing issue, as sewage(污水)can overflow into the river after storms. Habitat restoration continues as well; fish and plantings are still being sampled to measure how well it's gone.