It is autumn, and the Indians ask their new chief (首领) what the weather is going to be like this winter. The chief looks at the sky and says it's usually cold, and he tells the villagers to collect wood for the winter. As a good chief, he goes to call the weatherman and asks, "Is the coming winter going to be cold?"

    "It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold," the weatherman answers.

    So the chief goes back to his people and tells them to collect more food. A week later he calls the weatherman again.

    "Is it going to be a very cold winter?"

    "Yes," the weatherman answers again. "It's going to be a very cold winter."

    The chief again goes back to his people and tells them to collect every piece of wood they can find. Two weeks later he calls the weatherman again.

    "Are you sure that the winter is going to be very cold?"

    "Yes," the weatherman answers again. "It's going to be very very cold."

    "Why are you so sure?" asks the chief.

    The weatherman answers, "Because the Indians are collecting wood like crazy!"

    I grew up in a small town in South Canada. Every autumn, there was a week—long fair in the town. Thousands of people from other towns came to sell and buy things. It was the most exciting time of the year.

    When “Fairtime” came, my grandma became the busiest person of the family. Grandma was a kind, well—educated old lady. She was good at cooking. During “Fairtime”, relatives would come to live in her house and have meals there. Grandma was always happy to look after them.

    Year after year, many people moved to big cities. There was no longer “Fairtime”. Grandma became very old and was going a little blind. My parents and I did our best to make her life as comfortable as possible. I was at high school then. What I often did at home was to help Grandma with the daily newspaper's crossword puzzle. However, she didn't look happy. She often sat in her room for hours, without saying a word.

    To attract people to move back, the Town Hall decided to reopen the Fair. One day, when I came back from school, I saw Grandma wearing her glasses, washing the dishes in the kitchen. With a big smile on her face, she looked excited and a lot much younger. She told me that her two of her cousins would come. "They said they missed hometown and wanted to enjoy my food again."  Grandma said happily. "They will stay here for one week and we can have a big party. That must be the busiest week I've had in years!”

    I suddenly realized that Grandma didn't want to be looked after. She wanted to be “useful”, appreciated and helpful.

    Almost everyone in China knows David Beckham. He is a famous former English soccer player. He is introducing his three sons to you.

    Hi! My name is David Beckham. I'm 42 years old. I come from the UK. I played soccer, but I retired in 2013 and I didn't play soccer any more from then on. I have four children, three sons and one daughter. I love them very much!

    This is my youngest son Cruz. He is 12 years old. Cruz wants to be an actor(演员). But I think he is too young to act now.  He should stay in school. He can take acting lessons first.

    Here's Romeo, my second son. He is 15 years old. This kid is good-looking. He is a young model(模特) for clothes brand Burberry. He also dances well.

    This is my eldest son Brooklyn.  He is 18 years old. Brooklyn is a shy boy. He likes soccer very much.

    Garrison had been treasuring his last piece. All he had left now was a sheet of the beautiful brown paper Pa had brought back from his last sailing trip.

    "You've been quiet," Pa said, "Could I see your picture?"

    Garrison handed over his sketch. Pa studied it, then looked at his son. "You're ten now, eh?" Garrison nodded, hoping Pa wouldn't say that he was too old to be fooling around with pencils and paper.

    "When I was ten, I wanted to work on my father's ship," Pa said, "When Thomas was ten, he asked me to let him plant the corn."

    Garrison's throat (嗓子) tightened. "I know I'm not like either of you." Pa looked at the drawing again.

    "No, you are like both of us. You work hard, like Thomas. And you're like me, too. I have wandering feet, but you have a wandering mind. We need to see things differently.

    Garrison frowned. "I'd rather love the land, like Thomas, or the sea…"

    Pa patted his hand. "Thomas cares about our family very much-that's why he's worked so hard to bring us food. And my love for the sea makes good money. But there's more in life than food and money. There's happiness, for one. Does it make you happy to draw?"

    Garrison nodded.

    "And it makes me happy to look at your drawings. Not many folks can catch happiness on a piece of paper. Some might say drawing's a waste of time, but they don't understand how things are. Why, asking you to stop drawing like asking Thomas to stop farming, or me to stop going to sea. It would be like asking us to stop breathing, wouldn't it?"

    Garrison considered this, then replied, "No, sir. Not quite like breathing. If I couldn't draw any more, it would be… like someone took away my voice." He hung his head. In his mind he could hear Thomas laughing, "It's not like you ever speak up, anyway."

    But Pa patted his shoulder and said, "That would be a pure shame. Your voice is important, Garrison, whether it's out loud or on paper. And speaking of paper…" Pa smiled. "Take a look in my bag."

    Garrison reached into the bag and found a sketchbook. For a moment he was speechless happiness seemed to fill his body and stick in his throat. Then he managed to find his voice. "Oh, Pa-thank you."

Here is a travel diary from Peter.