When I was 8 years old, I decided to run away from home after a quarrel with my mother. With my suitcase packed and some sandwiches in a bag, I started for the front door.

     My mom asked where I was going. “I'm leaving home,” I said.

     “What's that you're carrying?” she asked.

     “Some clothes and food,” I replied.

     “If you want to run away, that's all right,” she said. “But you came into this home without anything and you can leave the same way.”

     I threw my suitcase and sandwiches on the floor and started for the door again.

     “Wait a minute,” Mom said. “You didn't have any clothes on when you arrived, and I want them back.”

 This infuriated me. I tore my clothes off — shoes, socks, underwear and all — and shouted, “Can I go now?”

     “Yes,” my mom answered, “but once you close that door, don't expect to come back.”

     I was so angry that I shut the door forcefully and stepped out of my home. Then I noticed down the street two neighbor girls walking toward our house. I was so shy that I saw the big spruce (云杉) tree in our yard and jumped under the low-hanging branches. A pile of dried-up brown needles were beneath the tree, and you can't imagine the pain those sharp needles caused to my body.

     After I was sure the girls had passed by, I ran to the front door and knocked at it loudly.

     “It's Billy! Let me in!”

     The voice behind the door answered, “Billy doesn't live here anymore. He ran away from home.”

     Looking behind me to see if anyone else was coming down the street, I said, “Mom! I'm sorry. I'm still your son. Let me in!”

     The door opened and Mom's smiling face appeared. “Did you change your mind about running away?” she asked.

     “What's for supper?” I smiled back.

    The bed should be reserved as a place for sleep, but people tend to read an iPad a lot in bed before they go to sleep.

    Charles Czeisler, a professor at Harvard Medical School, and his colleagues got a small group of people for an experiment. For five days in a row, the people read either a paper book or an iPad for four hours before sleep. Their sleep patterns were monitored all night. Before and after each trial period, the people took hourly blood tests to paint a day-long picture of just how much melatonin (褪黑激素) was in their blood at any given time.

    When subjects read on the iPad as compared to the paper books, they reported feeling less sleepy at night and less active the following morning. People also took longer to fall asleep on the iPad nights, and the blood tests showed that their melatonin secretion (分泌) was delayed by an hour and a half.

    The researchers conclude in today's journal article that given the rise of e-readers and the increasingly widespread use of e-things among children and adolescents, more research into the long-term consequences of these devices on health and safety is urgently needed. Czeisler and colleagues go on, in the research paper, to note：“Reading an iPad in bed may increase cancer risk.”

    However, software has been developed that can reduce some of the blue light from the screens of phones and computers according to time of day, and there are also glasses that are made to filter (过滤) short wavelengths. While they seem like a logical solution for the nighttime tech users, it needs more research.

    Last summer, two nineteenth-century cottages were rescued from remote farm fields in Montana, to be moved to an Art Deco building in San Francisco. The houses were made of wood. These cottages once housed early settlers as they worked the dry Montana soil; now they hold Twitter engineers.

    The cottages could be an example of the industry' s odd love affair with “low technology,” a concept associated with the natural world, and with old-school craftsmanship (手艺) that exists long before the Internet era. Low technology is not virtual (虚拟的) —so, to take advantage of it, Internet companies have had to get creative. The rescued wood cottages, fitted by hand in the late eighteen-hundreds, are an obvious example, but Twitter's designs lie on the extreme end. Other companies are using a broader interpretation (阐释) of low technology that focuses on nature.

    Amazon is building three glass spheres filled with trees, so that employees can “work and socialize in a more natural, park-like setting.” At Google's office, an entire floor is carpeted in glass. Facebook's second Menlo Park campus will have a rooftop park with a walking trail.

    Olle Lundberg, the founder of Lundberg Design, has worked with many tech companies over the years. “We have lost the connection to the maker in our lives, and our tech engineers are the ones who feel impoverished (贫乏的) , because they're surrounded by the digital world,” he says. “They're looking for a way to regain their individual identity, and we've found that introducing real crafts is one way to do that.”

    This craft based theory is rooted in history, William Morris, the English artist and writer, turned back to pre-industrial arts in the eighteen-sixties, just after the Industrial Revolution. The Arts and Crafts movement defined itself against machines. “Without creative human occupation, people became disconnected from life,” Morris said.

    Research has shown that natural environments can restore(恢复) our mental capacities. In Japan, patients are encouraged to “forest-bathe,” taking walks through woods to lower their blood pressure.

    These health benefits apply to the workplace as well. Rachel Kaplvin, a professor of environmental psychology, has spent years researching the restorative effects of natural environment. Her research found that workers with access to nature at the office—even simple views of trees and flowers—felt their jobs were less stressful and more satisfying. If low-tech offices can potentially nourish the brains and improve the mental health of employees then, fine, bring on the cottages.

    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（闪烁）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 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.

    Helen Monson has always been interested in helping her community. Her first volunteer experience was for the American Red Cross when she was in high school. When she was a school teacher, she also found time to volunteer.

After she retired, she started volunteering to help the old. When her father was older, he was not able to see as well as he used to, which made her sad because he had always enjoyed reading.

    She decided it would be fun to read to elderly people in her community. She also helped one woman write her stories. Ann was almost 100 years old, and Helen wrote down information about her life when she visited Ann. She put the information in a book and got it published. Ann was very excited to share her life story with her children and grandchildren.

    One day Helen read an article in the newspaper about refugees (难民) who needed to learn English. Now, she meets once a week with Sahra, a 38-year-old woman from Somalia. Sahra is learning reading and writing skills. Helen gave Sahra a camera and asked her to take pictures of her daily life. She developed the pictures, and then asked Sahra questions about them. In the end they wrote a book together and used the photos in the book. This helped Sahra learn many new words about her everyday life.

    Helen says, “The most rewarding part of volunteer work is becoming friends with the people I help. They enrich my life as well as I enrich theirs.”

    “That one looks just like a sheep! And look over there. That one looks like a horse!” Do you remember lying on your back in a grassy field on a summer afternoon, discovering the soft shapes in the clouds in the sky? Those were the good old days when you could see anything and everything in the clouds.

    But now people look at the sky and see clouds in the shape of a motor company's advertising logo (商标),or a message inviting them to go out and buy a certain brand (品牌) of beer. These cloud pictures are not products of their imaginations. Instead, they are produced by a machine. These new floating advertisements are called Flogos; the name stands for “floating logos.” They' re made from a mixture of soapy foam (泡沫)and a lighter-than-air gas such as helium, and they can be made into different sizes and shapes depending on the advertisement.

    Flogos can last up to an hour if weather conditions are good, and they can fly several kilometers high. Advertisers can rent a Flogo machine for$2,500 a day. The set-up is normally performed within 1 to 2 hours, and it will release four Flogos per minute. Advertisers can fill the air with any shape or message they want.

    Some people are worried that the Flogos might not be pollution-free. However, the Flogo's inventor insists that the soap he uses is natural, and that a Flogo just dissipates in the air, leaving nothing behind. Though it may be true that Flogos are environmentally friendly, some people believe that the natural clouds in our memory may be replaced by man-made ones. They are afraid that soon there will be nowhere left where their imaginations can float freely.