2 . After years of observing human nature, I have decided that two qualities make the difference between men of great achievement and men of average performance curiosity and discontent. I have never known an outstanding man who lacked either. And I have never known an average man who had both. The two belong together.

Together, these deep human urges (驱策力) count for much more that ambition. Galileo was not merely ambitious when he dropped objects of varying weights from the Leaning Tower at Pisa and timed their fall to the ground. Like Galileo, all the great names in history were curious and asked in discontent,“Why? Why? Why?”

Fortunately, curiosity and discontent don’t have to be learned. We are born with them and need only recapture them.

“The great man,” said Mencius (孟子), “is he who does not lose his child’s heart.” Yet most of us do lose it. We stop asking questions. We stop challenging custom. We just follow the crowd. And the crowd desires restful average. It encourages us to occupy our own little corner, to avoid foolish leaps into the dark, to be satisfied.

Most of us meet new people, and new ideas, with hesitation. But once having met and liked them, we think how terrible it would have been, had we missed the chance. We will probably have to force ourselves to waken our curiosity and discontent and keep them awake.

How should you start? Modestly, so as not to become discouraged. I think of one friend who couldn’t arrange flowers to satisfy herself. She was curious about how the experts did it. How she is one of the experts, writing books on flower arrangement.

One way to begin is to answer your own excuses. You haven’t any special ability? Most people don’t; there are only a few geniuses. You haven’t any time? That’s good, because it’s always the people with no time who get things done. Harriet Stowe, mother of six, wrote parts of Uncle Tom’s Cabin while cooking. You’re too old? Remember that Thomas Costain was 57 when he published his first novel, and that Grandma Moses showed her first pictures when she was 78.

However you start, remember there is no better time to start than right now, for you’ll never be more alive than you are at this moment.

3 . My first shopping in a general store was in Miss Bee’s when I spent the summer with my grandmother in New York.

“Go get them yourself” Miss Bee said, ignoring the shopping list held up before her nose. “I’m not your servant, so just get yourself a basket from that pile over there and start filing.”

It took me three wall-to-wall searches before I found the first item on my list — a pork can be placed between boxes of cereal and bread. Next up was toilet paper, found under the daily newspaper, and Band-Ads, found next to the face cream. The store was a puzzle, but it held some surprises too. I found a new Superman comic behind the peanut butter.

I visited Miss Bee a couple of times a week that summer. Sometimes she short-charged me. Other times she overcharged or sold me an old newspaper instead of a current one. Going to the store was more like going into battle. I left my Grandma’s house armed with my list — memorized to the letter — and marched into Miss Bee’s like General Patton (巴顿将军) marching into North Africa.

All summer long she found ways to trip me up. No sooner had I learned how to pronounce bicarbonate of soda (小苏打) and memorized its location on the shelf than Miss Bee rearranged the shelves and made me hunt for it all over again. By summer’s end, however, the shopping trip that had once taken me an hour was done in 15 minutes.

The morning I was to return to Brooklyn, I stopped in to tell her that she was mean. To my amazement, she laughed and said. “Well, I don’t care! Each of us is put on this earth for a reason. I believe my job is to teach every child I meet some life lessons to help them. Think what you will, but when you get older you’ll be glad our paths crossed!”

4 . 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.

9 . “Tell me the story of me, Momma,” my daughter Sophie always asks when we sit on my grandmother’s rocking chair at the end of the day. “The first time I saw your beautiful face, it was nearly covered by a blue-and-white hat. You were surrounded by a soft blue blanket (毛毯). All I could see was a rosy face.” “And I looked like a tiny fairy baby?” she asks. “You did, and you weren’t older than a minute,” I always answer. “The nurse handed a tiny little girl to me, and I was so surprised because you felt so light. I thought if I threw off the blanket, I’d find no baby there at all, only air.”

From that moment, I became a mother. But that moment was just special and magical as if she’d come from my body directly into my arms. From that day on, she was my daughter in every way that mattered.

It’s easy sometimes to forget there was another mother out there with whom I share my title. Sophie’s birth mother, who was also my friend, lost her life to cancer not long after giving birth to Sophie. And I’ll never forget that it was her difficult decision — her tears and her pain — that made me a mom.

As my daughter grows, she will understand that sometimes life is a relay race (接力赛), and you never know who in this world will hand you your baton (接力棒). It could be someone you know for years, or it could be someone who you even never meet, someone you will never be able to repay for giving you the life you always wanted.

10 . A few weeks ago, my teenage daughter Lisa failed a test. The grade might stop her from qualifying for the next class she wants to take. There were tears and some complaints for a few minutes. Then I saw something interesting. She made a joke, expressed gratitude that she didn’t have bigger problems, and finally made a plan on how to make improvements.

She was never the same as she was one year ago. That one was unwilling to take responsibility. That one stayed in anger and blamed others. We expect our kids to learn and grow. We hope for it. However, most of us grow through adversity(逆境), even trauma(精神创伤). It happened to Lisa last year repeatedly. She searched for ways to get her bearings and equip herself when everything around her was changing by the day. Psychologists call it post-traumatic growth.

Trauma refers to an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, attack, natural disaster, or other life-changing happenings. The growth after trauma doesn’t mean we get through challenges uninjured. It’s been a scary and painful time, for everyone, in one way or another. We may experience disbelief, depression, and even denial. As time moves on, people who have experienced trauma may have headaches or other physical symptoms, emotional ups and downs, and even relationship problems. Trauma does leave its irremovable marks.

However, in one study, researchers surveyed nearly 385 people who experienced financial difficulty during the pandemic. 88 percent of the people surveyed say they also have experienced some positive outcomes—They now have stronger family relationships and a greater appreciation of life.