Last Thursday, Michael and Linda stood behind large food trucks distributing meals to 4,000 homeless people for their wedding reception on the border town of Kilis. The couple had decided that instead of hosting their friends and family for a traditional feast reception,they would feed the victims from an earthquake-stricken area.

    The idea came from the bridegroom's father, Ted, who volunteers for a Turkish relief organization. For the past few years, the organization has distributed daily meals to thousands of people who've suffered from natural disasters. He approached a representative of the organization and suggested that the family cover part of the costs of feeding them for the day.

    Then he told his son, who was surprised by the suggestion, but soon won over. When he told that to the bride, she was really shocked but finally accepted because in southeastern Turkey there is areal culture of sharing with people in need. They love to share their food, their table and everything they have. And afterwards she was quite amazed about it. So, they arrived at the distribution center on Thursday to spend the day serving food and taking photographs with their grateful recipients（接受者）.

    On Tuesday evening, the newly married couple were still pleased with their decision to quit a personal celebrationfor one with a greater good. "It's like sharing a dinner with your friends and family who have this kind of thing on a daily basis or sharing something with people who don't even have the most basic things," Michael said."Hopefully, this will also give the start for other wedding dinners to be held here with our brothers and sisters in need."

    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!

    Mark felt that it was time for him to take part in his community, so he went to the neighborhood meeting after work. The area city council (委员会) woman was leading a discussion about how the quality of life was decreasing. The neighborhood faced many problems. Mark looked at the charts taped to the walls. There were charts for parking problems, crime, and for problems in vacant buildings. Mark read from the charts, “Police patrols(巡逻) cut back, illegal parking up 20%”. People were supposed to suggest solutions to the councilwoman. It was too much for Mark. "The problems are too big," he thought. He turned to the man next to him and said, "I think this is a waste of my time. Nothing I could do would make a difference here."

    As he neared the bus stop on his way home, Mark saw a woman carrying a grocery bag and a baby. As Mark got closer, her other child, a little boy, suddenly dashed into the street. The woman tried to reach for him, but as she moved, her bag shifted (滑落), and groceries started to fall out. Mark ran to take the boy's arm and led him back to his mother. Then he picked up the groceries while the woman smiled in relief. "Thanks!" she said. "You've got great timing!" "Just being neighborly," Mark said. As he rode home, he glanced at the walls of the bus. On one of them was “Small acts of kindness add up.”, Mark smiled and thought, "Maybe that's a good place to start."

    Dogs are our best friends. That's especially true after a disaster, such as an earthquake. When buildings fall down, search and rescue dogs help find trapped people. Dogs' amazing noses can pick up the smell of survivors. Now scientists have developed an electronic tool that does the same thing. It's taking smell detection(探测) to a whole new level.

    The new invention is a sort of electronic nose, which can detect extremely low levels of many compounds(化合物) from people's skin. This isn't the first time engineers have developed such an object. Earlier models, however, have been bulky and expensive. They could not detect low levels of target compounds either. The new one is inexpensive and small enough to fit inside hand-held equipment.

    The electronic nose can detect extremely slight smell of more than one compound at the same time. "Being able to do this, in such a small object, is the significant discovery," says Sotiris E. Pratsinis, Professor of Process Engineering&Materials Science at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich. His team tested it in special spaces. They were like the small spaces where people might be trapped. Chemicals given off by the volunteers built up inside. The electronic equipment detected those compounds at unbelievably low levels.

The results were good news for the research team. But they may be not for our four-legged friends, who could soon be out of a job. "Ideally, this technology could replace search and rescue dogs," Pratsinis says.

    Stephen Taylor, an electrical engineer, agrees that the new technology has some benefits over dogs. Still, he thinks it may be too soon to have our trusty friends retire. He suspects, "I foresee that such an object could add to the fine work done by the dogs." Taylor also pointed out some potential limitations of the new invention. "E-noses are useful, but can be very likely to be affected by unstable readings and interruption," he says.

    On Nov. 24, near Yellowstone's northeast entrance, Spitfire, a female grey wolf, was shot and killed by a hunter as she approached a group of cottages.

    "It was a legal harvest," Abby Nelson, a wolf management specialist said. "The facts are obviously a little bit harder for people to bear, but that pack has showed signs of habituation. They just stand there and have no fear. Wolf hunters can easily pick the one they want."

    The carefree relation that some Yellowstone wolves have built with humans is reportedly attractive for hunters who look for an easy kill.

    In the overnight, yet another famous Yellowstone wolf met a violent end outside the park, officials are actively rethinking how to manage wildlife habituation.

    Smith, a wolf biologist for Yellowstone, says, "Now we're thinking of pounding them," Park officials might use fireworks, and paintball or beanbag guns when they approach humans in the park. "If you get close to people, you're going to get attacked."

    If you think this sounds cruel, you're not alone. Seeing these creatures from the roads that wind through the park not only allows tourists to witness something amazing, but also to reconnect with nature in a way that is better than any conservation campaign. But there's a growing sense that the present policy of doing nothing isn't working; more wolves will unnecessarily die and the broken record of hunters scoring easy kills will go on.

    As Smith adds, urging people to keep wolves wild when meeting them halfway is a big ask. Still, he's hopeful to preserve the world's best place to observe free­ranging wolves; it's a policy change that tourists can be involved in.

    "... perhaps Spitfire's death will accomplish some good, and we'll all come together to do a better job on managing crowds and roads and wolves in Yellowstone, " Smith said.

Since 1993, Chicken Soup for the Soul has been a socially conscious company that combines storytelling with making the world a better place. We tell the stories of all people through our efforts, always with an eye to furthering unity and understanding, and an appreciation for our differences.

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