On a bitter cold Sunday morning just outside New York City, a group of women — all moms, many strangers to one another — gathered for their very first group scream.

Jessica Kline, the publisher of Macaroni KID Clifton-Montclair, organized the mom screaming event in her community. Two years of a pandemic, burdened with the stresses of childcare and school disruptions（中断）, have left many parents drained. A new CBS News poll finds nearly half of parents report feeling exhausted or frustrated.

Kline told correspondent Meg Oliver that over the last two years, she's often felt overwhelmed and isolated. When the pandemic started, she had three children under the age of six at home. "My house felt narrow; I felt like the walls were caving in on me, "she said."And I just felt like there was no place to go. "

As the women gathered and screamed on this day in Verona Park, in Verona, N. J., caved emotions poured out. They got a great sense of relief. "I love my kids dearly, but it is nice to just be able to go and be in a community of moms." One woman laughed.

Psychologist Lisa Damour, a CBS News contributor, said these screaming events can be a healthy way to express and release emotion. "It offers relief. It's important to talk about the uglier sides of parenthood, to make parents feel less alone and ashamed. "

Kline hopes this is just the beginning of mom gatherings in her community. She said, "I hope that moms walked away with a sense of self-care, even if it's just for a little bit, and a positive memory that they can bring with them after this entire chaos."

"By removing needless details in pursuit of perfection, Van Den followed in the footsteps of many great artists, writers, composers, and painters."

Juhani Murros made an unexpected discovery during his visits to art galleries when he worked for an organization in Ho Chi Minh City in 1990. A small still life in an unnoticeable gallery commanded the Finnish physician's attention. "It was not an eye-catching oil painting, yet its dark, mysterious colors and the emotional tension of its disciplined composition set it apart." Thus began a long journey of discovering the art and life of Van Den, a Buddhist of mixed Chinese and Vietnamese ancestry who studied in Paris for less than two years during the first French Indochina War.

Murros' biography is, by necessity, brief because there is limited knowledge of the artist, mostly in oral way by family and friends. Many of his paintings did not survive the damp Southeast Asian climate nor the political chaos of his lifetime. However, the author's research appears to be extensive, as much a years-long spiritual examination of Van Den as a historical one. The artist's love for country life is apparent in his work, and it is said by those who knew him that he preferred to paint countryside scenes close to his heart and worked as an outsider. He is uninterested in the more elegant work of academically recognized painters. Despite these limitations, Van Den won Vietnam's most honorable art award in 1960.

Murros gives an in-depth look into the life of this little-known unsung master. The book introduces the readers to Van Den's art with photographs of his paintings, accompanied by short stories behind them. The book is as quiet as the artist's work, but it is a satisfying read. Each stroke of words in the book connects to the readers; the narrative awakens the artistic spirit in each one of us, encouraging us to follow our heart.

Every summer, the calls of thousands of swamp sparrows can be heard across North America's wetlands. These little brown birds know only a few songs, but they know them very well. In fact, their musical set list probably hasn't changed much for centuries.

Like humans, baby swamp sparrows learn to communicate by copying adults. From a young age, they learn to copy, or mimic, songs sung by their elders. "Swamp sparrows very rarely make mistakes when they learn their songs," says biologist Robert Lachlan. In fact, their mimicry is so accurate that the music changes little between generations.

Just like children, the sparrows don't remember every song they hear. Lachlan says. "They don't just learn songs at random; they pick up commoner songs rather than rarer songs." In other words, they learn songs they hear most often. It's an example of a strategy that scientists call conformist bias. Until recently, this learning ability was thought to be special only to humans.

Between 2008 and 2009, Lachlan's research team recorded the calls of 615 male swamp sparrows across the northeastern United States. The researchers used computer software to break each song into a collection of notes, or syllables. They then measured the differences between the tunes.

The research revealed that only 2 percent of male sparrows sang a different song from the standard tune. The combination of accurate mimicry and conformist bias allows the birds to create traditions that last for centuries. "With those two ingredients together, you end up with traditions that are really stable," says Lachlan. "The song-types that you hear in the marshes（湿地）of North America today may well have been there 1,000 years ago." Lachlan's study is also among the first to measure the longevity of song traditions within a bird species.

The findings are really exciting, says scientist Andrew Farnsworth. He hopes that future research will evolve from these studies. For example, scientists may be able to identify how other animals are able to preserve their cultural traditions. "Seeing the potential for it in other organisms is super cool," says Farnsworth.