In 1978, I was 18 and was working as a nurse in a small town about 270 km away from Sydney, Australia. I was looking forward to having five fays off from duty. Unfortunately, the only one train a day back to my home in Sydney had already left. So I thought I'd hitch a ride (搭便车).

    I waited by the side of the highway for three hours but no one stopped for me. Finally, a man walked over and introduced himself as Gordon. He said that although he couldn't give me a lift, I should come back to his house for lunch. He noticed me standing for hours in the November heat and thought I must be hungry. I was doubtful as a young girl but he assured （使…放心）me I was safe, and he also offered to help me find a lift home afterwards. When we arrived at his house, he made us sandwiches. After lunch, he helped me find a lift home.

    Twenty-five years later, in 2003, while I was driving to a nearby town one day, I saw an elderly man standing in the glaring heat, trying to hitch a ride. I thought it was another chance to repay someone for the kindness I'd been given decades earlier. I pulled over and picked him up. I made him comfortable on the back seat and offered him some water.

    After a few moments of small talk, the man said to me, “You haven't changed a bit, even your red hair is still the same.” I couldn't remember where I'd met him. He then told me he was the man who had given me lunch and helped me find a lift all those years ago. It was Gordon.

    You are a new manager at the American branch of your German firm in Chicago. With a few minutes to spare between meetings, you go to get a quick cup of coffee.

    "Hey, David, how are you?" one of the senior partners at the firm asks you.

    "Good, thank you, Dr. Greer," you reply. You've really been wanting to make a connection with the senior leadership at the firm, and this seems like a great opportunity. But as you start to think of something to say, your American colleague breaks in to steal your spotlight.

    "So Arnold", your colleague says to your boss, in such a casual manner that it makes your German soul cringe(畏缩), "So what's your Super bowl prediction? I mean, you're a Niners fan, right?"

    The conversation moves on, and you walk silently back to your desk with your coffee. You know how important small talk is in the U.S., and you feel jealous of people who can do it well.

    There's nothing small about the role that small talk plays in American professional culture. People from other countries are often surprised at how important small talk is in the U.S. and how naturally and comfortably people seem to do it —— with peers, men, women, and even with superiors. You can be the most technically skilled worker in the world, but your ability to progress in your job in the United States is highly dependent on your ability to build and maintain positive relationships with people at work. And guess what skill is critical for building and maintaining these relationships? Small talk.

    What can you do if you are from another culture and want to learn to use small talk in the U.S. to build relationships and establish trust? Work hard to hone(磨练) your own version of American-style small talk. Watch how others do it. You don't have to imitate what they do; in fact, that would likely backfire because people would see you as inauthentic(假的,不可信的). But if you can develop your own personal version, that can go a long way toward making you feel comfortable and competent.

    Kathy Fletcher and David Simpson have a son named Santi. He had a friend who sometimes went to school hungry. So Santi invited him to occasionally eat and sleep at his house.

    That friend had a friend and that friend had a friend, and now when you go to dinner at Kathy and David's house on Thursday night there might be 15 to 20 teenagers gathering around the table, and later there will be groups of them crashing in the basement or in the few small bedrooms upstairs. The kids who show up at Kathy and David's have suffered the pains of modern poverty: homelessness, hunger, abuse.

    And yet by some miracle, hostile soil has produced beautiful flowers. Kids come from around the city. Spicy chicken and black rice are served. Cellphones are banned. The kids who call Kathy and David “Momma” and “Dad,” are polite and clear the dishes. Birthdays and graduations are celebrated. Songs are performed. Each meal we go around the table and everybody has to say something nobody else knows about them. Each meal the kids show their promise to care for one another.

    The adults in this community give the kids the chance to present their gifts. “At my first dinner, Edd read a poem that I first thought was from Langston Hughes, but it turned out to be his own. Kesari has a voice that somehow appeared from New Orleans jazz from the 1920s. Madeline and Thalya practice friendship as if it were the highest art form.”

    “They give us a gift — complete intolerance of social distance. When I first met Edd, I held out my hand to shake his. He looked at it and said, 'We hug here,' and we've been hugging since.”

    Bill Milliken, a veteran youth activist, is often asked which programs turn around kids' lives. “I still haven't seen one program change one kid's life,” he says. “What changes people is relationships. Somebody is willing to walk through the shadow of the valley of adolescence with them.” Souls are not saved in packs. Love is the necessary force.

    My daughter Kelly is a cautious person. She needs to warm up to situations, and is hesitant to try new things. When with close friends, she becomes a leader who laughs loudly and chants, "Girls rule, boys drool." But when that comfort zone is not around her, she is shy and nervous.

    This has been challenging for me at times. "Shy" is not a word that I think has ever been used to describe me. But this has been a year of firsts for my girl that has filled her with a new sense of confidence. This year she moved to lap lane in swimming where she was preparing for a swim team. This year she learned to ride a bike without training wheels. And this year she completed her first kids' triathlon(三项全能).

    On Saturday, with a thunderstorm coming soon and my son's birthday party later in the day, we all went out in the dark of the morning for Kelly to participate in her first triathlon. We practiced transitions from swim to bike to run with her, we got all the equipment she'd need, and we kept talking about the race. But as we waited the two hours for the older kids to finish before her turn, she held my leg a little harder and told me she loved me a few too many times. She was nervous but trying to keep it together.

    And then it was her turn. From the second she jumped into the water, my heart soared. My daughter transformed into the most confident human being I had ever seen. She dominated that swim, crushed that bike ride and ran to the finish with the biggest smile on her face.

    I can honestly say that I never felt so proud of someone in my entire life. It wasn't because she did a sport or anything like that. It was because she was afraid of something and conquered that fear with confidence and a fire I hadn't seen before.

    All day I would find myself just looking over at her and smiling. She might be wearing the finalist medal but I felt like I won that day. I won the chance to see my girl shine.

    Shine on, sweet baby.

    Plastic waste has polluted the Arctic. Two new studies have spied bags, fishing rope and tinier bits of rubbish in the Barents Sea. This sea sits north of Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia. It mixes with the Arctic Ocean, which is even farther north.

    Plastic waste in the Arctic could harm wildlife and may hint that large volumes of human rubbish are collecting there, says Melanie Bergmann. She is one of the scientists who spotted the waste. She studies Earth's oceans at the Alfred Wegener Institute in Bremerhaven, Germany. She first started counting bits of plastics in the Barents Sea because she kept spotting signs of the stuff there in images taken with deep-sea cameras.

    Bergmann and her colleagues counted pieces of plastic from an icebreaker, a boat designed to break through large blocks of ice in very cold waters. They also tracked plastic pieces they saw during helicopter rides over Arctic waters. The team found 31 pieces of plastic. “That doesn't seem like much, but it shows us that we've really got a problem, one that extends even to this remote area, far from civilization,” Bergmann says. She and her colleagues described their findings October 21 in Polar Biology.

    Another team has also been counting plastics in the area. Those scientists took water from the Barents Sea and counted the number of smaller bits of plastics, called microplastics.

    Plastic in the ocean is dangerous to animals. Some may get caught in rope or bags. And wildlife may swallow bags and other plastic bits. That makes them feel full. But some may eventually starve because they are not getting the nutrients they need to live. Sometimes plastics also may break down in an animal's body and release poisonous chemicals. If another animal later eats the one that swallowed plastic, it too can end up with poisonous chemicals in its body. This, in turn, can travel up the food web, endangering predators (肉食动物) — even people.

Imagine reading a story titled "Pursuing Success." That would be an inspiring story, wouldn't it? Maybe—but maybe not. It might well be the story of someone whose never-ending chase for more and more success leaves them unsatisfied and incapable of happiness.

Though it isn't a conventional medical addiction, for many people success has addictive properties. Obviously, success goes with praise. To a certain extent, praise stimulates the neurotransmitter dopamine (神经递质多巴胺), which contributes to all addictive behaviors.

The desire for success may be born to human nature, but specialness doesn't come cheap. Success is tough work, and it requires bearing the cost of losing. In the 1980s, the physician Robert Goldman famously found that more than half of ambitious athletes would be willing to take a drug that would kill them in five years in exchange for winning every competition they entered.

Unfortunately, success is endless. The goal can't be satisfied; most people never feel "successful" enough. The high only lasts a day or two, and then it's on to the next goal. Psychologists call this the hedonic treadmill (快乐跑步机现象), in which satisfaction wears off almost immediately and we must run on to the next reward to avoid the feeling of falling behind.

People should get off the treadmill. But quitting isn't easy for addicts. For people hooked on substances, withdrawal can be a painful experience, both physically and psychologically, research finds that depression and anxiety are common among outstanding athletes after their careers end. Olympic athletes, in particular, suffer from the" post-Olympic blues."

Just like wine, success in and of itself is not a bad thing. Both can bring fun and sweetness to life. But both become bossy when they are a substitute for — instead of a complement (补充物)to — the relationships and love that should be at the center of our lives.