学习啦【英语文摘】 编辑：韦彦 发布时间：2016-09-12
As a young man, Al was a skilled artist, a potter. He had a wife and two fine sons. One night, his oldest son developed a severe stomachache. Thinking it was only some common intestinal disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very seriously. But the malady was actually acute appendicitis and the boy died suddenly that night.
Knowing the death could have been prevented if he had only realized the seriousness of the situation, Al's emotional health deleriorated under the enormous burden of his guilt. To make matters worse his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two situations were more than Al could handle, and he turned to alcohol to help him cope. In lime Al became an alcoholic.
As the alcoholism progressed, Al began to lose everything he possessed-his home, his land, his art objects, everything. Eventually Al died alone in a San Francisco motel room.
When I heard of Al' s death, I reacted with the same disdain the world shows for one who ends his life with nothing material to show for it. "What a complete failure! " I thought. "What a totally wasted life! "
当我听说 Al的死讯时，我的反应和世人一样，都视他没有留下什么财产。"多失败啊!" 我思索着完全没有意义的一生。 "
As time went by, I began to reevaluate my earlier harsh judgment. You see, I knew Al's now adult son, Ernie. He is one of the kindest, most caring, most loving men I have ever known. I watched Ernie with his children and saw the free flow of love between them. I knew that kindness and caring had lo come from somewhere.
I hadn't heard Ernie talk much about his father. It is so hard to defend an alcoholic. One day I worked up my courage to ask him. "I'm really puzzled by something," I said. "I know your father was basically the only one to raise you. What on earth did he do that you became such a special person?"
Ernie sat quietly and reflected for a few moments. Then he said, "From my earliest memories as a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and said, 'I love you, son.
Ernie坐在那里沉思了一会，说道从我还是孩子时最早的回忆到 18岁离开家， Al每天晚上都会来到我的房闭，吻我一下然后对我说:‘我爱你，儿子’"。
Tears came to my eyes as I realized what a fool I had been to judge Al as a failure. He had not left any material possessions behind. But he had been a kind loving father, and he left behind one of the finest, most giving men I have ever known.
They both thought that a sudden feeling
had united them.
This certainty is beautiful, even more
beautiful than uncertainly.
They thought they didn't know each other,
nothing had ever happened between them,
These streets, these stairs，this corridors,
Where they could have met so long ago?
I would like to ask them, if they can
perhaps in a revolving door face to face one day?
A "sorry" in the crowd?
"Wrong number" on the phone?
-but I know the answer.
No, they don 't remember.
How surprised they would be
For such a long time already
Fate has been playing with them.
Not quite yet ready to change into destiny,
which brings them nearer and yet further,
cutting their path
and stifling a laugh,
escaping ever further;
There were signs, indications,
undecipherable, what does in matter.
Three years ago, perhaps or even last Tuesday,
this leaf flying from one shoulder to another?
Something lost and gathered.
Who knows, perhaps a ball already
in the bushes, in childhood?
There were handles, door bells,
where, on the trace of a hand,
another hand was placed;
suitcases next to one another in the left luggage.
And maybe one night the same dream
forgotten on walking;
But every beginning is only a continuation,
and the book of fate is always open in the middle.
A long time before I was born, my Grandma and Grandpa moved into the house on Beechwood Avenue. They had a young family of 4 little girls. The little girls slept in the attic in a big feather bed. It was cold there on winter night. Grandma put hot bricks under the covers at the foot of the bed to keep the little girls warm.
During the Great Depre5sion, work was hard to find, so Grandpa did
whatever jobs he could. He dug ditches during the week and on weekend he and Grandma dug a garden lo grow some of their own food.
The house on Beechwood Avenue had a big front yard with shade trees and fruit trees. In the middle of the yard was a water pump where the four little girls pumped water for cooking, cleaning and watering the garden. On one side of the yard, Grandma and Grandpa planted tomatoes, beans, squash, cucumbers, peppers and strawberries to feed their growing family. They planted roses, lilacs and irises on the other side of the yard, around the statue of the Blessed Mother.
Everybody worked to keep the garden growing. All summer long, the family ate food from the garden and enjoyed the beautiful flowers. Grandma put up strawberry jam，tomatoes, beans, peppers, pears and peaches in canning jam. They were good to eat through the long winter.
The family grew up, and before too many years had passed, the grandchildren came to visit. Grandma and Grandpa still planted their garden every spring. Everyone still enjoyed the good food from the garden and always took some home.
Grandchildren grow up, and grandparents grow older. It became harder for Grandma and Grandpa to keep up the garden. So they made it a little smaller. There was still plenty to eat from the garden and lovely flowers to enjoy.
Then one summer when Grandpa was eighty-nine years old, all he could do was watch from his lawn chair as the vegetables grew and the roses bloomed. Summer slowly faded, and Grandpa died before it was time to bring in the harvest.
It was a lonely winter for Grandma She sat near the window, looking out at the yard and wondering if she could plant the garden in the spring. It would be hard to care for it by herself. When spring came, she planted only a little garden.
One sunny day in the early summer, Grandma heard a commotion in the front yard and looked out the window to see a frightening sight a gigantic swarm of bees filled the air between two tall trees. There was thousands of bees in the air, so many that the swarm reached the tree-lops! The buzzing sound was tremendous. Grandma watched as the bees made their way into a hole up in one of the trees. Before long, every one of those bees had disappeared into its new home.
Grandma wondered what in the world she could do. Should she hire someone to get rid of bees? That would cost more than she could afford. She decided to wait and think it over.
During the next few days, the bees were busy making. their own business. Grandma could always see a few bees buzzing in and out around the opening high in the tree. Before long, she decided the bees won't bother anyone, so she went about her business and didn't give them any other thought.
That summer, Grandma's little garden grew and grew. The neighbors would stop to admire the huge crop of vegetables and puzzle over their own gardens weren't doing well. No matter, because Grandma had enough give some away. Of course, everyone who came to visit was treated to a meal of good things from the garden.
One day, Grandma's brother Frank visited from Arizona. As Grandma made Frank a delicious lunch of squash pan cakes and home made apple sauce, she told him the story about the swarm of bees.
Frank said, "in Arizona, the farmers often hired beekeepers to set up beehives near their fields. The bees pollinated the crops and helped them to grow."
That was when Grandma realized at her bees had helped with her garden all summer.
"So that's why my little garden had such a big crop! " she exclaimed. From that time on, Grandma always believed that since Grandpa couldn't be there to help her that summer, he had sent the bees to take his place and make Grandma's little garden grow and grow...