1 . In recent years, much of my life, as a consumer has shifted to what I like to call background spending. As I’ve subscribed to more apps and streaming platforms, significant sums of my money tend to slip away each month without my ever thinking about it.

Think of it as automated trade. Spending without the trouble of spending. Acquisition without action or thought.

But while this flood of subscriptions was sold to me on the condition that it would make my life more trouble free, there was a certain shock I felt upon discovering how much I was spending without realizing each month ($179.45).

You see, the thing about background spending is that it tends to happen, well, in the background without your full attention. And there lies the point.

“Hand over your credit card details and let us take care of the rest,” these companies promise us. But by agreeing to this trade, we’ve become lazy passive consumers. And this laziness breeds more laziness because most of us can’t be bothered with conducting regular reviews of our subscription spending. We’re too lazy to even notice or cancel!

I know it’s not just me who is suddenly living life as a smooth-brained subscriber. The average consumer spends $273 per month on subscriptions, according to a 2021 study of 2,500 by digital services firm West Monroe. Not a single person surveyed knew what his actual monthly spending was.

It’s understandable why this model is so attractive to businesses. As companies questioned traditional advertising models, subscriptions offered the promise of “selling once and earning forever.” And while subscription services have been around for decades (think Wine of the Month Club), more customers have been willing to sign up thanks to the widespread availability of smartphones and the increasing ease of home delivery.

While these subscriptions promise ease and happiness, not all of us are satisfied. Last year, the Kearney Consumer Institute found 40 percent of consumers believe they have too many subscriptions. Almost half of us also think we pay too much for streaming video-on-demand subscriptions.

3 . I absolutely could have gone my entire life without ever reading Moby-Dick, but unfortunately, I have read it. Twice. I’ve had to read it twice.

I can trace it as far back as middle school — the teachers’ strong desire to push classic literature on students as much as possible. And it makes sense, in some ways. There are benefits to being well read —a larger vocabulary, mental stimulation, concentration and understanding of literary references in the world. But at the same time, being well read doesn’t necessarily mean only reading classics for the sake of reading classics.

This isn’t to say that these classic novels serve no purpose in curriculum (课程) or in the literary world — classics are, in many ways, vital to a well-rounded education in literature. But so are pieces of contemporary (当代的) literature and books from centuries ago that haven’t been recognized classics. So yes, there’s room for classic novels. But right now, there’s too much room for classic novels.

There are also many modern sayings that come from classics — like “Big brother is watching,” from George Orwell’s 1984, “Tomorrow is another day,” from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind and “Hey Boo,” which originally comes from To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s worth something to be well versed in texts that have made an impact on the construct of modern day language. But at the same time, when classic novels are put on syllabi (教学大纲) or inserted into high school curriculum, novels should be selected with care —not just selected because it’s “what everyone in the field reads” —which yes, has been said to me before.

And as far as contemporary literature goes, there seems to be an opinion that it doesn’t offer as much wisdom and has less value and, therefore, we can’t learn as much from it. I’ve found this to be most untrue. After all, we tend to learn best from things that we can connect to, and contemporary literature is often the most relatable. And though it hasn’t had the time to become a classic, the structure and syntax (句法) holds its own. It’s different from classic work, but it’s not less valuable.

So let’s take a step back from the classics. We think that they’re pushing us forward, when, really, they might be standing in our way.

4 . Do I think the sky is falling? Sort of.

My husband and I were recently in Egypt, where the temperature was a bit warm for my tiny princess self. So, we left Egypt. Back home, my dearest friends struggled with health stuff, with family craziness…

The game of life is hard, and a lot of us are playing hurt.

I ache for the world but naturally I’m mostly watching the Me Movie, where balance and strength are beginning to fail. What can we do as the creaking elevator of age slowly arrives? The main solution is to get outside every day, ideally with friends. Old friends even thoughts of them-are my comfort.

Recently I was walking along a beach with Neshama. We go back 50 years. She is 84, short and strong. Every so often, she bent down somewhat tentatively (踌躇地) and picked up small items into a small cloth bag. “What are you doing?”

“I’m picking up micro litter. I try to help where I can.”

I reminded her of an old story. A great warhorse comes upon a tiny sparrow (麻雀) lying on its back with its feet in the air, eyes tightly shut with effort. The horse asks it what it’s doing.

“I’m trying to help hold back the darkness.”

The horse laughs loudly, “That is so funny. What do you weigh?”

And the sparrow replies, “One does what one can.”

This is what older age means. We do what we can.

We continued our walk. Neshama bent tentatively to pick up bits of litter and started to slip, but I caught her and we laughed. We are so physically weak in older age, but friendship makes it all a rowing machine for the soul. We can take it, as long as we feel and give love, and laugh gently at ourselves as we fall apart. We know by a certain age the great lies in our life—if you do or achieve this or that, you will be happy and rich. Love and service make us rich.

8 . It has been heard for years: technology is ruining our lives. We are often told that it weakens our eyes light and productivity. I don’t buy into that mindset(心态) because we all have free will and can limit our technology intakes responsibly. However, one of the strongest bad effects of the technological age has been the downfall of reading books.

Before we had phones, books were sources of entertainment. I know I’m not the only one who spent nights as a child with a flashlight hidden under my covers so that I could finish a book when I was supposed to be sleeping. I still remember one of my favorite novels was Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, from which I learned about the value of friendship.

Reading a book often feels even more pleasant than watching a movie. We create our own worlds, pictures of the characters and views of the events described. Reading requires complete focus, so it pulls us out of our daily lives, our fears and our problems. Reading a book brings us into a state of peace and adventure, letting us dive into others’ worlds.

Reading a book takes time and requires attentions, which is almost impossible in a world in which plenty of distractions(使人分心的事) exist at the mere opening of a phone lock screen. Many people even report feeling distracted by their phones while watching TV. If people are feeling distracted when watching TV shows, how can they focus on reading a novel, a task that requires complete attention?

I was recently on vacation and found myself on an eight-hour plane ride with no Internet access. At first, this seemed unbearable, but then I remembered I had packed a book in my bag. I started the book, and within minutes, I was totally absorbed. I spent the rest of my journey reading it.

I advise anyone wanting to rediscover the joys of reading, to simulate(模拟) the environment I was forced to enter into by getting on the airplane. Turn your phone off and find a quiet space. Pickup an old favorite book from childhood or a new one. Then, sit down and begin to create your own world.

9 . I remember as a young child bringing a bunch of brilliant yellow flowers to my mother. It didn’t matter that the stems felt sticky or that both my parents cursed the presence of these flowers in the lawn. I thought they were beautiful!

And there were so many of them! We spent hours picking the flowers and then popping the blossoms off with a snap of our fingers. But the supply of dandelions (蒲公英) never ran out. My father or brothers would chop off all the heads with the lawnmower at least once a week, but that didn’t stop these hardy wonders.

And for those flowers that escaped the honor of being hand-delivered to my mother or the sharp blades of the lawnmower, there was another level of existence. The soft roundness of a dandelion gone to seed caused endless laughter of delight as we unconsciously spread this flower across the yard.

As I worked in my garden last week, pulling unwanted weeds out of the space that would become a haven for tomatoes, corn, peas and sunflowers, I again marveled at the flower that some call a weed.

And I thought, if only I had the staying power of a dandelion. If only I could stretch my roots so deep and straight that something tugging on my stem couldn’t separate me completely from the source that feeds me life. If only I could come back to face the world with a bright, sunshiny face after someone has run me over with a lawnmower or worse, purposely attacked me in an attempt to destroy me. If only I could spread love and encouragement as freely and fully as this flower spreads seeds of itself.

The lawns at my parents’ home are now beautiful green blankets. The only patches of color come from well-placed, well-controlled flowerbeds. Chemicals have managed to kill what human interference couldn’t. Still, I hope you and I can be different. I hope that we can stretch our roots deep enough that the strongest poison can’t reach our souls. I hope that we can overcome the poisons of anger, fear, hate, criticism and competitiveness.

10 . As a child, there was nothing I liked better than Sunday afternoons at my grandfather’s farm in western Pennsylvania. Surrounded by miles of stone walls, the house and field provided endless hours of fun for a city kid like me.

Since my first visit to the farm, I had wanted more than anything to be allowed to climb the stone walls surrounding the houses. My parents would never agree because the walls were so old that some stones were loose and falling. However, my idea to climb across those walls grew so strong that finally I had all my courage to enter the living room, where the adults had gathered after Sunday dinner.

“I want to climb the stone walls.” I said. “Heavens, no! You’ll hurt yourself!” The response was just as I’d expected. But before I left the room, I was stopped by my grandfather’s loud voice. “Now hold on just a minute.” I heard him say. “Let the boy climb the stone walls. He has to learn to do things for himself.”

“Go,” he said to me, “and come and see me when you get back.” For the next two and a half hours I climbed those old walls — and had the time of my life. Later I met with my grandfather to tell him about my adventures. I’ll never forget what he said. “Fred,” he said, smiling, “you made this day a special day just by being yourself. Always remember, there’s only one person in this whole world like you, and I like you exactly as you are.”

Many years have passed since then, and today I host the television program Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, seen by millions of children throughout America. There have been changes over the years, but one thing remains the same: my message to children at the end of almost every visit. “There’s only one person in this whole world like you,” the kids will hear me say, “and people can like you exactly as you are.”