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新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第二册课文及翻译 2

新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第二册课文及翻译 2
新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第二册课文及翻译 2

1 Unit 1

Time-Conscious Americans

Americans believe no one stands still. If you are not moving ahead, you are falling behind. This attitude results in a nation of people committed to researching, experimenting and exploring. Time is one of the two elements that Americans save carefully, the other being labor.

"We are slaves to nothing but the clock," it has been said. Time is treated as if it were something almost real. We budget it, save it, waste it, steal it, kill it, cut it, account for it; we also charge for it. It is a precious resource. Many people have a rather acute sense of the shortness of each lifetime. Once the sands have run out of a person's hourglass, they cannot be replaced. We want every minute to count.

A foreigner's first impression of the US is likely to be that everyone is in a rush—often under pressure. City people always appear to be hurrying to get where they are going, restlessly seeking attention in a store, or elbowing others as they try to complete their shopping. Racing through daytime meals is part of the pace of life in this country. Working time is considered precious. Others in public eating-places are waiting for you to finish so they, too, can be served and get back to work within the time allowed. You also find drivers will be abrupt and people will push past you. You will miss smiles, brief conversations, and small exchanges with strangers. Don't take it personally. This is because people value time highly, and they resent someone else "wasting" it beyond a certain appropriate point.

Many new arrivals in the States will miss the opening exchanges of a business call, for example. They will miss the ritual interaction that goes with a welcoming cup of tea or coffee that may be a convention in their own country. They may miss leisurely business chats in a restaurant or coffee house. Normally, Americans do not assess their visitors in such relaxed surroundings over extended small talk; much less do they take them out for dinner, or around on the golf course while they develop a sense of trust. Since we generally assess and probe professionally rather than socially, we start talking business very quickly. Time is, therefore, always ticking in our inner ear.

Consequently, we work hard at the task of saving time. We produce a steady flow of labor-saving devices; we communicate rapidly through faxes, phone calls or emails rather than through personal contacts, which though pleasant, take longer—especially given our traffic-filled streets. We, therefore, save most personal visiting for after-work hours or for social weekend gatherings.

To us the impersonality of electronic communication has little or no relation to the significance of the matter at hand. In some countries no major business is conducted without eye contact, requiring face-to-face conversation. In America, too, a final agreement will normally be signed in person. However, people are meeting increasingly on television screens, conducting "teleconferences" to settle problems not only in this country but also—by satellite—internationally.

The US is definitely a telephone country. Almost everyone uses the telephone to conduct business, to chat with friends, to make or break social appointments, to say "Thank you", to shop and to obtain all kinds of information. Telephones save the feet and endless amounts of time. This is due partly to the fact that the telephone service is superb here, whereas the postal service is less efficient.

Some new arrivals will come from cultures where it is considered impolite to work too quickly. Unless a certain amount of time is allowed to elapse, it seems in their eyes as if the task being considered were insignificant, not worthy of proper respect. Assignments are, consequently, given added weight by the passage of time. In the US, however, it is taken as a sign of skillfulness or being competent to solve a problem, or fulfill a job successfully, with speed. Usually, the more important a task is, the more capital, energy, and attention will be poured into it in order to "get it moving".

美国人认为没有人能停止不前。如果你不求进取,你就会落伍。这种态度造就了一个投身于研究、实验和探索的民族。时间是美国人注意节约的两个要素之一,另一要素是劳力。

人们一直说:“只有时间才能支配我们。”人们似乎把时间当作一个差不多是实实在在的东西来对待。我们安排时间、节约时间、浪费时间、挤抢时间、消磨时间、缩减时间、对时间的利用作出解释;我们还要因付出时间而收取费用。时间是一种宝贵的资源,许多人都深感人生的短暂。时光一去不复返。我们应当让每一分钟都过得有意义。

外国人对美国的第一印象很可能是:每个人都匆匆忙忙──常常处于压力之下。城里人看上去总是在匆匆地赶往他们要去的地方,在商店里他们焦躁不安地指望店员能马上来为他们服务,或者为了赶快买完东西,用肘来推搡他人。白天吃饭时人们也都匆匆忙忙,这部分地反映出这个国家的生活节奏。人们认为工作时间是宝贵的。在公共用餐场所,人们都等着别人尽快吃完,以便他们也能及时用餐,你还会发现司机开车很鲁莽,人们推搡着在你身边过去。你会怀念微笑、简短的交谈以及与陌生人的随意闲聊。不要觉得这是针对你个人的,这是因为人们都非常珍惜时间,而且也不喜欢他人“浪费”时间到不恰当的地步。

许多刚到美国的人会怀念诸如商务拜访等场合开始时的寒暄。他们也会怀念那种一边喝茶或喝咖啡一边进行的礼节性交流,这也许是他们自己国家的一种习俗。他们也许还会怀念在饭店或咖啡馆里谈生意时的那种轻松悠闲的交谈。一般说来,美国人是不会在如此轻松的环境里通过长时间的闲聊来评价他们的客人的,更不用说会在增进相互间信任的过程中带他们出去吃饭,或带他们去打高尔夫球。既然我们通常是通过工作而不是社交来评估和了解他人,我们就开门见山地谈正事。因此,时间老是在我们心中滴滴答答地响着。

因此,我们千方百计地节约时间。我们发明了一系列节省劳力的装置;我们通过发传真、打电话或发电子邮件与他人迅速地进行交流,而不是通过直接接触。虽然面对面接触令人愉快,但却要花更多的时间,尤其是在马路上交通拥挤的时候。因此,我们把大多数个人拜访安排在下班以后的时间里或周末的社交聚会上。

就我们而言,电子交流的缺乏人情味与我们手头上事情的重要性之间很少有或完全没有关系。在有些国家,如果没有目光接触,就做不成大生意,这需要面对面的交谈。在美国,最后协议通常也需要本人签字。然而现在人们越来越多地在电视屏幕上见面,开远程会议不仅能解决本国的问题,而且还能通过卫星解决国际问题。

美国无疑是一个电话王国。几乎每个人都在用电话做生意、与朋友聊天、安排或取消社交约会、表达谢意、购物和获得各种信息。电话不但能免去走路之劳,而且还能节约大量时间。其部分原因在于这样一个事实:美国的电话服务是一流的,而邮政服务的效率则差一些。

有些初来美国的人来自文化背景不同的其他国家,在他们的国家,人们认为工作太快是一种失礼。在他们看来,如果不花一定时间来处理某件事的话,那么这件事就好像是无足轻重的,不值得给予适当的重视。因此,人们觉得用的时间长会增加所做事情的重要性。但在美国,能迅速而又成功地解决问题或完成工作则被视为是有水平、有能力的标志。通常情况下,工作越重要,投入的资金、精力和注意力就越多,其目的是“使工作开展起来”。

Culture Shock

Do you think studying in a different country is something that sounds very exciting? Are you like many young people who leave home to study in another country thinking you will have lots of fun? Certainly, it is a new experience, which brings the opportunity to discover fascinating things and a feeling of freedom. In spite of these advantages, however, there are also some challenges you will encounter. Because your views may clash with the different beliefs, norms, values and traditions that exist in different countries, you may have difficulty adjusting to a new culture and to those parts of the culture not familiar to you. This is called "culture shock". At least four essential stages of adjustment occur during culture shock.

The first stage is called "the honeymoon". In this stage, you are excited about living in a different place, and everything seems to be marvelous. You like everything, and everybody seems to be so nice to you. Also, the amusement of life in a new culture seems to have no ending.

Eventually, however, the second stage of culture shock appears. This is "the hostility stage". You begin to

notice that not everything is as good as you had originally thought it was. You become tired of many things about the new culture. Moreover, people don't treat you like a guest anymore. Everything that seemed to be so wonderful at first is now awful, and everything makes you feel distressed and tired.

Usually at this point in your adjustment to a new culture, you devise some defense mechanisms to help you cope and to protect yourself against the effects of culture shock. One type of coping mechanism is called "repression". This happens when you pretend that everything is acceptable and that nothing bothers you. Another type of defense mechanism is called "regression". This occurs when you start to act as if you are younger than you actually are; you act like a child. You forget everything, and sometimes you become careless and irresponsible. The third kind of defense mechanism is called "isolation". You would rather be home alone, and you don't want to communicate with anybody. With isolation, you try to avoid the effects of culture shock, or at least that's what you think. Isolation is one of the worst coping mechanisms you can use because it separates you from those things that could really help you. The last type of defense mechanism is called "rejection". With this coping mechanism, you think you don't need anybody. You feel you are coping fine alone, so you don't try to ask for help.

The defense mechanisms you utilize in the hostility stage are not helpful. If you only occasionally use one of these coping mechanisms to help yourself survive, that is acceptable. You must be cautious, however. These mechanisms can really hurt you because they prevent you from making necessary adjustments to the new culture.

After you deal with your hostile feelings, recognition of the temporary nature of culture shock begins. Then you come to the third stage called "recovery". In this stage, you start feeling more positive, and you try to develop comprehension of everything you don't understand. The whole situation starts to become more favorable; you recover from the symptoms of the first two stages, and you adjust yourself to the new norms, values, and even beliefs and traditions of the new country. You begin to see that even though the distinction of the culture is different from your own, it has elements that you can learn to appreciate.

The last stage of culture shock is called "adjustment". In this stage, you have reached a point where you actually feel good because you have learned enough to understand the new culture. The things that initially made you feel uncomfortable or strange are now things that you understand. This acquisition of understanding alleviates much of the stress. Now you feel comfortable; you have adjusted to the new culture.

Culture shock is not something you can avoid when living in a foreign country. It does not seem like a very helpful experience when you are going through its four stages. However, when you have completely adjusted to a new culture you can more fully enjoy it. You learn how to interact with other people, and you learn a considerable amount about life in a culture that is not your own. Furthermore, learning about other cultures and how to adjust to the shock of living in them helps you learn more about yourself.

你认为在异国留学是一件听上去非常令人兴奋的事情吗?你会像许多离家去另一个国家学习的年轻人一样感觉很有趣吗?这当然是一种崭新的经历,它会给你带来机会,让你发现许多迷人的东西,获得一种自由感。然而,尽管有这些好处,你也会遇到挑战。因为你的观点可能会与存在于不同国家的不同信念、准则、价值观念和传统发生冲突。你也许会感到很难去适应一种新的文化以及该文化中你不熟悉的那些部分。这就是“文化冲击”。人们经历文化冲击的过程至少包括四个主要阶段。

第一阶段叫做“蜜月期”。在这一阶段,你会感到生活在一个不同国度里很兴奋,而且每一样东西看上去都妙不可言。你什么都喜欢,而且好像每个人都对你很好。另外,新的文化中的生活乐趣好像是无穷无尽的。

然而,文化冲击的第二阶段终究会出现,这就是“敌对期”。你开始注意到并不是每样东西都像你原先认为的那样好。你会对新的文化里的许多东西感到厌倦。此外,人们也不再把你当作一个客人来对待了。所有最初看上去非常美好的东西现在变得让人讨厌了,而且每一样东西都使你感到苦恼和厌倦。

通常,在你适应一种新文化的这一阶段中,你会想出一些防卫性的办法来帮助你应付难关,保护自己免受文化冲击的影响。其中一种办法叫做“压抑法”。当你假装所有的东西都可以接受,没有什么东西

令你感到烦恼的时候,你就是在运用压抑法。另一种防卫性办法称做“倒退法”。当你的行为举止开始显得比你实际年龄要小的时候,你就是在运用这种办法。这时,你的行为举止像一个小孩。你把什么都忘掉了,而且有时你会变得粗心大意,不负责任。第三种防卫性办法叫做“孤立法”。你宁可一个人呆在家里,不想和任何人交流。你想把自己封闭起来以避免文化冲击的影响,至少你是这样认为的。孤立法也许是人们用来对付文化冲击的最糟糕的办法之一,因为你把那些能真正帮助你的东西和你隔离开来了。最后一种防卫性办法叫做“排斥法”。这一办法让你觉得自己不需要任何人帮助。你觉得你可以独自把事情处理好,所以你就不想求助于人。

你在敌意阶段使用的这些办法并不能解决问题。如果你仅仅是偶尔运用一下其中一个应付办法来帮助你生存下去,这也无妨。但是你必须谨慎。这些办法可能会真的使你受到伤害,因为它们会阻碍你对新的文化作出必要的调整。

在克服了自己的敌对情绪后,你就会开始认识到文化冲击的短暂性。然后你就会步入被称为“恢复期”的第三阶段。在这个阶段,你开始变得积极起来,而且你会努力去理解所有你不理解的东西。整个形势开始变得对你有利了,你会从前面两个阶段出现的症状中恢复过来。而且你开始使自己适应新的准则、新的价值观念,乃至这个新的国家的各种信念和传统。你开始明白,虽然这种新的文化的特点和你自己国家的文化特点有所不同,但其中也必定有值得你学习和欣赏的东西。

文化冲击的最后一个阶段被称为“适应期”。在这个阶段,你真正达到了感觉良好的境界,因为你已经学到了很多东西,已经能理解这种新的文化了。最初使你感到不舒服或陌生的东西,现在已成了你能理解的东西。这种理解会减轻你的许多压力。现在你感到自在了,你已经适应了新的文化。

文化冲击是生活在异国他乡的人无法避免的东西。当你在经历文化冲击的这四个阶段时,它似乎并不是一件有益的事。然而,当你完全适应了某一种新的文化时,你会更加充分地喜爱这种文化的。你学会了如何和他人交流,而且还了解了不同文化背景下人们的大量生活情况。此外,了解其他各种文化,以及懂得当你身处其中时如何去适应所受到的冲击,可以帮助你更好地了解自己。

尼克莱?彼得罗维奇?安尼金一点都不像我想象的那么吓人。不,他不可能是我父亲特地送我来见的那位前苏联教练。

可他的确是尼克莱?彼得罗维奇?安尼金本人。他请我进门,在沙发上坐下,又拍了拍身边的垫子,让我坐在他旁边。在他面前,我真的很紧张。

“你还年轻,”他的英语带着俄语口音:“如果你愿意试着向奥林匹克运动会进军,我想你能行。长野奥运会来不及参加了,但你可以准备参加2002年盐湖城奥运会。”

“完全可以,不是吗?”看到我脸上惊愕的表情,他又说道。我那时是一个很有前途的业余滑雪运动员,但在国内决不是顶尖选手。

“当然,你需要进行很多艰苦的训练,你会哭鼻子,但你一定会进步的。”

的确,后来我经历了无数痛苦的训练,还为此流了不少眼泪。但在后来的五年里,我总能从尼克莱讲的有趣故事和他的幽默感中得到鼓励。

他开始总是说:“我的朋友们常去看电影,去跳舞,去和女孩子约会,”然后他会压低嗓门接着说:“我就在运动场上训练、训练、再训练。第二年,我的15公里滑雪比赛成绩缩短了1.5分钟。”

“朋友们问我:‘尼克莱,你怎么做到的呢?’我回答:‘你们去看电影、跳舞、和女孩子约会,而我一直在训练、训练、再训练。’”

故事通常到这儿就结束了。但有一次──后来我们知道那天是他结婚25周年纪念日──他穿着一件旧的毛衣,很自豪地站着,微笑着轻声说道:“告诉你们,我可是在26岁那年才第一次亲吻女孩子。她后来就和我结了婚。”

不管他是不是懂得浪漫,尼克莱知道什么是爱。他以一贯的幽默、默默的感恩、敏锐的感觉和真诚的态度为爱设立了奥林匹克般的标准。即使在我结束了滑雪生涯之后,我仍一直努力去达到那个标准。

但他又从不娇惯我。二月里的一天,我头很疼,感到十分疲倦。我在一片空地上遇见了他,在寒风中的雪地里滑了大概十五分钟后,我赶上了他,有点小题大做地说:“嘿,尼克莱,我感觉我要死了。”

“如果活到一百岁,人人都会死的,”他对我的痛苦无动于衷,态度坚决地接着说:“但你现在必须滑、滑、再滑。”

在滑雪板上,我照他说的去做。但在其他事情上我会反抗他。在一次经费并不宽裕的滑雪露营活动中,他让我们十个人挤在一个单身汉住的芬兰式屋子里。第一天我们醒来时发现尼克莱正在做早餐。然后我们坐在临时拼凑起来的椅子上,围着张小小的牌桌,用勺子很快地吃完早饭。吃完后,尼克莱把摞起来的油腻腻的碗向我和我唯一的另一个女队友前一推,武断地说:“女孩子们,现在去洗碗吧!”

我把餐巾往地上一扔,向他骂道:“让该死的男孩子们去洗吧!这不公平!”他没再让我去洗碗,也没对我的大发脾气显得太在意。他只在滑雪时才显露出强烈的情感。

训练的时候,他会岁着我们迈步的节奏大声发出指令:“对,就这样,一二三,一二三。”我祖父的一个好朋友──一位上了年纪的女士──看了尼克莱带我训练的录像带后问道:“他也教舞蹈吗?”

在训练时,我一刻不停地纠正着尼克莱指出的错误。每完成一个动作,我都会问他自己是否有了进步。

“是的,还行。但如果膝盖能屈得更快些就更好了。”

“可我滑得够快了吗?”我坚持问他。

最后他会皱起眉头说:“你得无数次地重复,动作才能达到完美。”他提醒我“必须有耐心”,言语之间流露出“我已经告诉过你无数次了”的意思。

尼克莱的耐心和我的勤奋使我赢得了全国第四名的好成绩,并开始为奥运会季前赛做准备。但后来我没能被选拔去参加2002年奥运会。

去年夏天,我回去拜访尼克莱。他给我沏了茶......还自己洗了碗!我们坐在沙发上聊天。怀念起前一年的奥林匹克队,我一时沉默,回想起自己曾经获得的一切──很重要的一点就是我和这个穿着颇具热带风情衬衫、个子不高的男人之间形成了并不张扬但又牢不可摧的纽带。

尼克莱教会我即使需要无数次的努力,也要凭借勇气、热情和严格的纪律来坚持下去。他还教会我为了能在这世界上生活一辈子而预先心存感激,并每天提醒自己:即便面临许多挑战,“现在心里有的必须是爱、爱、爱。”

The Standard for Olympic Excellence

The Olympics remains the most pure example of competition for the sake of competition itself. Athletes sacrifice their careers and bodies risking injury, defeat and complete failure to compete for nothing more than honor for their country and themselves. To achieve such honor, one must both perform at his or her event's highest level and act as a role model on the world's biggest stage. And so, while it must be admitted that performance-enhancing drugs are exploited to offer advantage to some Olympic athletes, those who do so never receive the only true reward the Olympics has to offer: honor. And, they never experience the glory of winning through the virtues of hard work and determination.

The greatest track and field Olympian of all time, Carl Lewis, exemplified the Olympic spirit. He did so, not simply through his gold medal performances―Lewis won nine gold medals in four different events and held world records in the 100-meter dash and the long jump―but also through his competitive nature and his ability to win and compete in every Olympics from 1984 to 1996; he would have also competed in 1980 if the United States had not refused to take part. With speed, consistency, integrity and above all desire, Lewis defied not only the stopwatch but also the march of time. He demanded nothing less than the best from himself and achieved the best, not with drugs, but with unmatched discipline and commitment to training.

Surprisingly, young Carl Lewis was encouraged to pursue music lessons rather than track by his parents. But, he would not hear of it, and stuck a strip of tape on the ground to mark the distance for the world record and began to jump toward it with singular determination. His father commented, "Some kids want to be a fireman one day, a movie star the next. Carl set his mind on track and that was it. He said he wanted to be the best, period." His years of practice and quiet self-confidence set the stage for a phenomenal Olympic track and field career.

In 1985, however, a cloud appeared on Carl Lewis' horizons: Canadian sprinter Ben Johnson, who began to beat Lewis consistently in the 100-meter dash. Lewis arrived at the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul confident, but even observers who knew very little about the race expected Johnson would win. The world watched and waited anxiously to find out who was "the fastest man on Earth". All of the cameras focused on Lewis and Johnson as the runners took their marks in the final heat. The crack of the starter's pistol sounded and the racers burst from the line. The crowd was used to Lewis trailing for the first half o f the race―he just had a different style―and then finishing strong with his long stride to win. So, they held their breath as they watched Johnson build an early lead with his explosive start wondering if Lewis' strong finish would be enough to overcome him. As the runners approached the finish line, Lewis was gaining fast, but alas, his personal best time of 9.92 seconds was not enough to beat Johnson who ran a world record time of 9.79 seconds. Johnson was called "the fastest human being ever", and Lewis, it appeared, would be competing for second place in future races. Two days later, however, Johnson was stripped of his gold medal and sent packing by the International Olympic Committee when his post-race drug test indicated steroid use. The gold medal was given to Lewis instead, yet many did not see his conquest as a real victory, and he became swept up in the apparent blanket condemnation of the sport. Worse, a former opponent charged Lewis with steroid use. Lewis firmly denied the charges and countered by proving before a judge that the magazine that had published the stories did so without foundation to their claims. He also participated in drug test after drug test to prove he was clean. An opponent of steroid use, Lewis was never linked to drug use by anything but rumor.

It would take the formula of Lewis' further commitment to the sport and his love for competition to lift some of the suspicion from track events and stop the erosion of support that the Olympics began to suffer after Seoul. With his continued hard work and honest participation in sprinting and the long jump, he proved to the world that the Olympic spirit was not dead. And in 1992, Lewis competed in his third Olympics winning two more gold medals in the long jump and 4×100 meter relay with a reception from the public that was fit for a king.

The amazing Carl Lewis had demonstrated that he was unlike any athlete who had ever lived, not by simply winning, but by winning honestly, loving to compete and working the hardest for the longest time. His love for the games truly set a new standard for Olympic excellence.

奥林匹克运动会依然是一个为竞争而竞争的最纯粹的例子。运动员们在事业和身体上作出牺牲,他们冒着受伤、受挫和彻底失败的危险,仅仅为了国家和自身的荣誉而竞争。为了获得这样的荣誉,运动员必须发挥在自己的项目上的最佳水平,在世界最大的竞技舞台上发挥模范作用。虽然必须承认,有的运动员利用兴奋剂来提升自己的表现,从而取得优势,但他们从未获得过奥运会所能给予的唯一真正的奖赏,那就是荣誉。而且他们也从未体验过通过刻苦训练与决心这些美德而获胜所带来的光荣感。

迄今为止,卡尔?刘易斯是奥运会田径项目最伟大的选手,也是奥运精神的典范。这不仅是因为他屡屡获得金牌──刘易斯在四个项目的比赛中获得过九枚金牌,在100米短跑和跳远比赛中保持世界记录──而且是因为他天性中所富有的竞争力和从1984年到1996年间在每一届奥运会上所表现出的竞争和获胜的能力。如果不是美国拒绝出席1980年奥运会,他也会参加那一年的奥运竞赛。凭着速度、稳定的发挥、诚实,尤其是获胜的渴望,刘易斯的表现非秒表所能计量,甚至使时间也停滞不前。他要求自己发挥出最佳水平,而且他取得最好成绩靠的不是服用药物,而是无与伦比的自制力和训练时的完全投入。

令人惊讶的是,卡尔?刘易斯的父母在他年幼时鼓励他去上音乐课,而不是去参加田径训练。但是他不愿去,而是把一条胶带粘在地上,以此标出跳远世界记录的距离,然后以非凡的决心开始向着目标练习跳远。他的父亲评价道:“有些孩子今天想着以后当消防员,明天又梦想成为电影明星。卡尔决心练习田径,后来始终没有改变。他说他想成为最好的,就这些。”他多年的训练和从容的自信为他以后卓越的田径生涯打好了基础。

然而在1985年,卡尔?刘易斯的运动生涯蒙上了一片阴影:加拿大短跑运动员本?约翰逊在100米短跑中频频击败刘易斯。虽然1988年刘易斯参加汉城(现称首尔)奥运会时满怀信心,但就算对径赛知之

甚少的旁观者们也都认为约翰逊会获胜。全世界都急切地观望着,等待着,想知道谁是“世界上跑得最快的人”。当选手们在最后一轮比赛中站在起跑线上时,所有照相机的镜头都对准了刘易斯和约翰逊。发令枪“啪”地一声响过之后,运动员从起跑线上冲了出去。人们习惯于看到刘易斯在赛程的前一半落在后面──他就是这种与众不同的风格──最后来个大跨步的奋力冲刺。因此,当他们看到约翰逊凭着起跑时的爆发力领先时都屏住了呼吸,不知道刘易斯最后的冲刺是否能够击败对手。当他们逼近终点线的时候,刘易斯奋力加速,但是,可惜的是,刘易斯9.92秒的个人最好成绩不敌约翰逊9.79秒的世界记录。约翰逊被称为“历史上跑得最快的人”,而刘易斯看来在以后的比赛中只能争夺第二名了。但两天以后,约翰逊因赛后的药检结果显示其服用了类固醇而被取消了金牌,并被国际奥委会遣送回国。金牌被转而授予刘易斯,可很多人并不认为他获得了真正的胜利,而他也被席卷进对田径赛的一片指责声中。更糟糕的是,刘易斯以前的一个对手指控他也服用了类固醇。刘易斯对此坚决予以否认,并在法官面前证明杂志刊登这样的消息是毫无根据的行为,以此作为反击。他一次次地参加药检以证明自身的清白。刘易斯反对在比赛中服用类固醇。除了在谣言中,他从未和使用药物的丑闻联系在一起过。

凭着对运动的持续奉献和对竞技的热爱,刘易斯消除了人们对径赛项目的一些疑虑,阻止了汉城奥运会后民众对奥运会支持下降的颓势。他以自己的不断努力和对短跑与跳远的诚实参与向世界证明,奥林匹克精神并未消亡。1992年,刘易斯第三次参加奥运会,并在跳远和4×100米接力赛中获得两枚金牌。他在公众中所受到的欢迎不亚于一位国王受到的礼遇。

令人惊叹的卡尔?刘易斯已经证明自己不同于历史上任何一位运动员。这并不是因为他能获胜,而是因为他能诚实地获胜,他热爱竞争,他能在最长的时间里做出最大的努力。他对体育竞技的热爱真正为奥林匹克的卓越设立了新的标准。

Unit 3

Marriage Across Nations

Gail and I imagined a quiet wedding. During our two years together we had experienced the usual ups and downs of a couple learning to know, understand, and respect each other. But through it all we had honestly confronted the weaknesses and strengths of each other's characters.

Our racial and cultural differences enhanced our relationship and taught us a great deal about tolerance, compromise, and being open with each other. Gail sometimes wondered why I and other blacks were so involved with the racial issue, and I was surprised that she seemed to forget the subtler forms of racial hatred in American society.

Gail and I had no illusions about what the future held for us as a married, mixed couple in America. The continual source of our strength was our mutual trust and respect.

We wanted to avoid the mistake made by many couples of marrying for the wrong reasons, and only finding out ten, twenty, or thirty years later that they were incompatible, that they hardly took the time to know each other, that they overlooked serious personality conflicts in the expectation that marriage was an automatic way to make everything work out right. That point was emphasized by the fact that Gail's parents, after thirty-five years of marriage, were going through a bitter and painful divorce, which had destroyed Gail and for a time had a negative effect on our budding relationship.

When Gail spread the news of our wedding plans to her family she met with some resistance. Her mother, Deborah, all along had been supportive of our relationship, and even joked about when we were going to get married so she could have grandchildren. Instead of congratulations upon hearing our news, Deborah counseled Gail to be really sure she was doing the right thing.

"So it was all right for me to date him, but it's wrong for me to marry him. Is his color the problem, Mom?" Gail subsequently told me she had asked her mother.

"To start with I must admit that at first I harbored reservations about a mixed marriage, prejudices you might even call them. But when I met Mark I found him a charming and intelligent young guy. Any mother would be proud to have him for a son-in-law. So, color has nothing to do with it. Yes, my friends talk. Some even

express shock at what you are doing. But they live in a different world. So you see, Mark's color is not the problem. My biggest worry is that you may be marrying Mark for the same wrong reasons that I married your father. When we met I saw him as my beloved, intelligent, charming, and caring. It was all so new, all so exciting, and we both thought, on the surface at least, that ours was an ideal marriage with every indication that it would last forever. I realized only later that I didn't know my beloved, your father, very well when we married."

"But Mark and I have been together more than two years," Gail railed. "We've been through so much together. We've seen each other at our worst many times. I'm sure that time will only confirm what we feel deeply about each other."

"You may be right. But I still think that waiting won't hurt. You're only twenty-five."

Gail's father, David, whom I had not yet met personally, approached our decision with a father-knows-best attitude. He basically asked the same questions as Gail's mother:"Why the haste? Who is this Mark? What's his citizenship status?" And when he learned of my problems with the citizenship department, he immediately suspected that I was marrying his daughter in order to remain in the United States.

"But Dad,that's harsh," Gail said.

"Then why the rush?" he asked repeatedly.

"Mark has had problems with citizenship before and has always taken care of them himself," Gail defended. "In fact, he made it very clear when we were discussing marriage that if I had any doubts about anything, I should not hesitate to cancel our plans."

Her father proceeded to quote statistics showing that mixed couples had higher divorce rates than couples of the same race and gave examples of mixed couples he had counseled who were having marital difficulties.

"Have you thought about the hardships your children could go through?" he asked.

"Dad, are you a racist?"

"No, of course not. But you have to be realistic."

"Maybe our children will have some problems, but whose children don't? But one thing they'll always have: our love and devotion."

"That's idealistic. People can be very cruel toward children from mixed marriages."

"Dad, we'll worry about that when the time comes. If we had to resolve all doubt before we acted, very little would ever get done."

"Remember, it's never too late to change your mind."

我和盖尔计划举行一个不事张扬的婚礼。在两年的相处中,我们的关系经历了起伏,这是一对情侣在学着相互了解、理解和尊重时常常出现的。但在这整整两年间,我们坦诚地面对彼此性格中的弱点和优点。

我们之间的种族及文化差异不但增强了我们的关系,还教会了我们要彼此宽容、谅解和开诚布公。盖尔有时不明白为何我和其他黑人如此关注种族问题,而我感到吃惊的是,她好像忘记了美国社会中种族仇恨种种微妙的表现形式。

对于成为居住在美国、异族通婚的夫妻,我和盖尔对未来没有不切实际的幻想。相互信任和尊重才是我们俩永不枯竭的力量源泉。

许多夫妻因为错误的理由结了婚,结果在10年、20年或30年后才发觉他们原来是合不来的。他们在婚前几乎没有花时间去互相了解,他们忽视了严重的性格差异,指望婚姻会自然而然地解决各种问题。我们希望避免重蹈覆辙。事实更说明了这一点:已经结婚35年的盖尔的父母正经历着一场充满怨恨、令人痛苦的婚变,这件事给盖尔带来了很大打击,并一度给我们正处于萌芽状态的关系造成了负面影响。

当盖尔把我们计划举办婚礼的消息告诉家人时,她遇到了一些阻力。她的母亲德博拉过去一直赞成我们的关系,甚至还开过玩笑,问我们打算何时结婚,这样她就可以抱外孙了。但这次听到我们要结婚的消息时,她没有向我们表示祝贺,反而劝盖尔想清楚自己的决定是否正确。

“这么说我跟他约会没错,但是如果我跟他结婚,就错了。妈妈,是不是因为他的肤色?”盖尔后来

告诉我她曾这样问她母亲。

“首先我必须承认,刚开始时我对异族通婚是有保留意见的,也许你甚至可以把这称为偏见。但是当我见到马克时,我发现他是一个既讨人喜欢又聪明的年轻人。任何一个母亲都会因为有这样一个女婿而感到脸上有光的。所以,这事跟肤色没有关系。是的,我的朋友们会说闲话。有些朋友甚至对你所做的事表示震惊。但他们的生活与我们的不同。因此你要明白,马克的肤色不是问题。我最大的担心是你也许跟我当初嫁给你爸爸一样,为了错误的原因而嫁给马克。当年我和你爸爸相遇时,在我眼中,他可爱、聪明、富有魅力又善解人意。一切都是那么新鲜、那么令人兴奋。而且我们两人都认为,我们的婚姻是理想婚姻,至少表面上看是如此,而且一切迹象都表明我们的婚姻会天长地久。直到后来我才明白,在我们结婚时,我并不十分理解我所爱的人——你的爸爸。”

“但是我和马克呆在一起已有两年多了,”盖尔抱怨道。

“我们俩一起经历了许许多多的事情。我们彼此多次看到对方最糟糕的一面。我可以肯定时间只能证明我们是彼此深情相爱的。”

“你也许是对的。但我还是认为再等一等没坏处。你才25岁。”

盖尔的父亲戴维——我还未见过他的面——以知事莫若父的态度对待我们的决定。他问的问题基本上和盖尔母亲的问题相同:“干吗这么匆忙?这个马克是什么人?他是什么公民身份?”

当他得知我办公民身份遇到了问题时,就怀疑我是因为想留在美国而娶他女儿的。

“不过爸爸,你这话讲得太难听了,”盖尔说。

“那么干吗要这样着急?”他重复地问。

“马克是有公民身份方面的问题,但他总是在自己处理这些问题,”盖尔辩解道。“事实上,当我们在讨论结婚的时候,他清楚地表明了一点:如果我对任何事情有怀疑,我完全可以取消我们的计划。”

她父亲开始引用统计数据说明异族通婚的离婚率比同族结婚的要高,而且还列举了接受过他咨询的、在婚姻上有麻烦的异族通婚夫妇的例子。

他问道:“你考虑过你将来的孩子可能会遭受的苦难吗?”

“爸爸,你是种族主义者吗?”

“不,当然不是。但你必须得现实一点。”

“也许我们的孩子会遇到一些问题。但谁的孩子不会呢?可是有一样东西他们将会永远拥有,那就是我们的爱。”

“那是理想主义的想法。人们对异族通婚生下的孩子是会很残酷的。”

“爸爸,到时候我们自己会操心的。但是假如我们在做什么事之前,就必须把所有的疑难问题全部解决的话,那么我们几乎什么都干不成了。”

“记住,你什么时候改变主意都不晚。”

Rich Meeting His Future Mother-in-law

After much thought, I came up with a brilliant plan for Rich to meet my mother and win her over. In fact, I arranged it so my mother would want to cook a meal especially for him.

One day, my mother called me, to invite me to a birthday dinner for my father. My brother Vincent was bringing his girlfriend, Lisa Lum. I could bring a friend, too.

I knew she would do this, because cooking was how my mother expressed her love, her pride, her power, and her proof that she knew more than anyone else. "Just be sure to tell her later that her cooking was the best you ever tasted," I told Rich. "Believe me."

The eve of the dinner, I sat in the kitchen watching her cook, waiting for the right moment to tell her about our marriage plans, that we had decided to get married next July, about seven months away. She was cubing garlic and slicing cabbage into small pieces and chatting at the same time about Auntie Suyuan: "She can only cook looking at directions. My instructions are in my fingers. I know what secret ingredients to put in just by using my nose!" And she was slicing so quickly, seemingly not paying attention to her sharp chopping knife, that I was afraid the tips of her fingers would become one of the ingredients of the purple vegetable and pork dish.

I was hoping she would say something first concerning Rich. I had seen her expression when she opened the door, her forced smile as she surveyed him from head to toe, checking her judgment of him against that already given to her by Auntie Suyuan. I tried to anticipate what criticisms she would have.

Rich was not only not Chinese, he was also my junior, a few years younger than I was. And unfortunately, he looked much younger with his curly red hair, smooth pale skin, and the splash of orange freckles across his nose. He was a bit on the short side, compactly built. In his dark business suits, he looked nice but easily forgettable, like somebody's nephew at a funeral. This was why I didn't notice him the first year we worked together at the firm. But, my mother noticed everything.

"So what do you think of Rich?" I finally asked, holding my breath.

She tossed the garlic in the hot oil, which bubbled in a loud, angry sound. "So many spots on his face," she said.

I could feel the goose bumps rise on my back. "They're freckles. Freckles are good luck, you know," I felt compelled to defend on his behalf, a bit too heatedly as I raised my voice above the noise of the kitchen.

"Oh?" She said innocently.

"Yes, the more spots the better. Everybody knows that."

She considered this a moment and then smiled and spoke in a Chinese dialect: "Maybe this is true. When you were young, you got the chicken pox. So many spots, you had to stay home for ten days. So lucky, you thought."

I couldn't save Rich in the kitchen. And I couldn't save him later at the dinner table either.

He had brought a bottle of French wine, something he did not know my parents could not appreciate. My parents did not even own appropriate glasses for wine. And then he also made the mistake of drinking not one but two frosted glasses full, while everybody else had a half-inch "just for taste".

But the worst happened when Rich criticized my mother's cooking, and he didn't even have a clue about what he had done. As is the Chinese cook's custom, my mother always made negative remarks about her own cooking. That night she chose to direct it toward her famous steamed pork and preserved vegetable dish, which she always served with special pride.

"Ai! This dish not salty enough, no flavor," she complained, after tasting a small bite. "It is too bad to eat."

This was our family's cue to eat some and proclaim it the best she had ever made. But before we could be so diplomatic, Rich said, "You know, all it needs is a little soy sauce." And he proceeded to pour a riverful of the salty black stuff on the china plate, right before my mother's shocked eyes.

And even though I was hopeful throughout the dinner that my mother would somehow see Rich's kindness, his sense of humor and charm, I knew he had failed miserably in her eyes.

Rich obviously had had a different opinion on how the evening had gone. When we got home that night, after we put Shoshana to bed, he said modestly, "Well, I think we hit it off A-OK."

经过反复思考,我终于想出了一个绝妙的计划:让里奇与我妈妈见面,并把她争取过来。事实上,让我妈妈特地为他掌勺烧饭是我做的安排。

一天,妈妈打电话给我,要我参加爸爸的生日宴。我弟弟文森特将带上他的女友莉萨?卢姆。我也可以带一个朋友去。

我知道妈妈会亲自下厨的,因为烧菜做饭是表达她的爱、她的自豪和她在家中权力的方式,也可用以证明她比其他任何人都懂得多。“千万记住在饭后告诉我妈妈,说她做的饭菜是你吃过的饭菜中最可口的,”我对里奇说。“相信我的话。”

爸爸生日宴的前夜,我坐在厨房里看着妈妈忙乎,等待合适的时机来告诉她我们的结婚计划。我们已决定在7月结婚,大约还有7个月的时间。她正在把大蒜切成小方块,把卷心菜切成小片,同时闲聊着有关素媛姨妈的事:“她只会看着烹饪指南烧菜,而我对烹饪了如指掌。我只要用鼻子闻闻就知道该放什么佐料了!”她切得很快,好像一点也不注意她手中那把锋利的切菜刀,我真害怕她的手指尖也会成为

紫色蔬菜烧猪肉的佐料。

我希望她会先提起里奇。我注意到了她开门时的面部表情,她当时勉强地笑了笑,从头到脚地打量着里奇,以验证素媛阿姨对里奇的评价。我尽力设想她会有哪些不满意的地方。

里奇不仅不是华人,而且他还比我小几岁。更糟的是,由于他那头红色的卷发、光洁白晰的皮肤以及鼻子两边一片桔黄色的雀斑,他看上去比我年轻了很多。他稍微矮了一点,长得很结实。他身穿深色套装,看上去讨人喜欢,但让人过眼就忘,就像追悼会上遇见的某个人的侄子。这就是为什么我们在公司里一起工作的第一年里我没有注意到他的原因。但是我妈妈却把一切都看在了眼里。

“你认为里奇怎么样?”终于,我屏住呼吸问道。

她把大蒜扔进了烧热的油锅里,发出了刺耳的响声。

“他脸上那么多斑点,”她说。

我听后感到背上起了鸡皮疙瘩。“那是雀斑,你知道雀斑象征着好运。”我感到我得为他辩解。我提高嗓门压倒厨房里的噪声,我自己也感到我太激动了点。

“哦,是吗?”她不经意地说。

“是的,雀斑越多越好。人人都知道这一点。”

她想了一会儿,然后笑了,接着用汉语方言说:“也许是这样。你小时候得过水痘。长了许多小痘痘,你只好在家里呆了10天。可真走运啊,你想想!”

我在厨房里救不了里奇,后来在餐桌上我也救不了他。

他买了瓶法国葡萄酒,并不知道我父母不喜欢这玩意儿,我父母甚至连像样的红酒杯也没有。接着他又犯了个错误:他喝了不是一杯,而是满满两大毛玻璃杯的葡萄酒,而其他人的杯子里都只有半英寸高的酒,大家只是“尝尝而已”。

最糟糕的是他批评了我妈妈的烹饪手艺,而他竟然没意识到自己做了什么。我妈妈总是要对她自己的烹饪发表一些评论,说一些自己的菜烧得不好之类的话,这是中国厨师的习惯。那晚她原打算说说自己的拿手菜——梅干菜蒸肉,上这个菜时她总是特别得意。

“唉,这个菜不够咸,没味道,”尝了一小口后,她抱怨道。“太难吃了。”

这句话在我们家意味着让大家来尝一点,并且还要说这道菜是妈妈做得最好的一次。但是我们还没能来得及说一些这样圆滑得体的话,里奇就说:“嗯,这菜只需要加一点点酱油。”接着他无视我母亲惊诧的眼光,把许多咸乎乎、黑溜溜的东西倒进了瓷盘里。

虽然吃饭时,我一直希望我妈妈能从某种角度看到里奇的善良、幽默感和魅力,但是我清楚里奇在她的眼里已经是一败涂地了。

很显然,里奇对那晚有完全不同的看法。那晚我们回到家里,安置肖莎娜上床睡觉后,他谦虚地说:“嗯,我觉得我们相处得很不错。”

Unit 4

A Test of True Love

Six minutes to six, said the digital clock over the information desk in Grand Central Station. John Blandford, a tall young army officer, focused his eyesight on the clock to note the exact time. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, a woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and had given him strength without fail.

Soon after he volunteered for military service, he had received a book from this woman. A letter, which wished him courage and safety, came with the book. He discovered that many of his friends, also in the army, had received the identical book from the woman, Hollis Meynell. And while they all got strength from it, and appreciated her support of their cause, John Blandford was the only person to write Ms. Meynell back. On the day of his departure, to a destination overseas where he would fight in the war, he received her reply. Aboard the cargo ship that was taking him into enemy territory, he stood on the deck and read her letter to him again and again.

For thirteen months, she had faithfully written to him. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway,

without decrease. During the difficult days of war, her letters nourished him and gave him courage. As long as he received letters from her, he felt as though he could survive. After a short time, he believed he loved her, and she loved him. It was as if fate had brought them together.

But when he asked her for a photo, she declined his request. She explained her objection: "If your feelings for me have any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be bothered by the feeling that you loved me for my beauty, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain. Then I'd always fear you were writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. Either way, I would forbid myself from loving you. When you come to New York and you see me, then you can make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that—if that's what we choose..."

One minute to six... Blandford's heart leaped.

A young woman was coming toward him, and he felt a connection with her right away. Her figure was long and thin, her spectacular golden hair lay back in curls from her small ears. Her eyes were blue flowers; her lips had a gentle firmness. In her fancy green suit she was like springtime come alive.

He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she wasn't wearing a rose, and as he moved, a small, warm smile formed on her lips.

"Going my way, soldier?" she asked.

Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past forty, and a fossil to his young eyes, her hair sporting patches of gray. She was more than fat; her thick legs shook as they moved. But she wore a red rose on her brown coat.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away and soon vanished into the fog. Blandford felt as though his heart was being compressed into a small cement ball, so strong was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and brought warmth to his own; and there she stood. Her pale, fat face was gentle and intelligent; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly look.

Blandford resisted the urge to follow the younger woman, though it was not easy to do so. His fingers held the book she had sent to him before he went off to the war, which was to identify him to Hollis Meynell. This would not be love. However, it would be something precious, something perhaps even less common than love—a friendship for which he had been, and would always be, thankful.

He held the book out toward the woman.

"I'm John Blandford, and you—you are Ms. Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May I take you to dinner?" The woman smiled. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit—the one who just went by—begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant near the highway. She said it was some kind of a test."

大中央车站问询处桌子上方的数字钟显示:差六分六点。约翰?布兰福德,一个年轻的高个子军官,眼睛盯着大钟,看确切的时间。六分钟后,他将见到一位在过去13个月里在他生命中占有特殊位置的女人,一位他素未谋面、却通过书信始终给予他力量的女人。

在他自愿参军后不久,他收到了一本这位女子寄来的书。随书而来的还有一封信,祝他勇敢和平安。他发现自己很多参军的朋友也收到了这位名叫霍利斯?梅内尔的女子寄来的同样的书。他们所有的人都从中获得了勇气,也感激她对他们为之战斗的事业的支持,但只有他给梅内尔女士回了信。在他启程前往海外战场战斗的那天,他收到了她的回信。站在即将带他进入敌人领地的货船甲板上,他一遍又一遍地读着她的来信。

13个月来,她忠实地给他写信。即使没有他的回信,她仍然一如既往地写信给他,从未减少过。在那段艰苦战斗的日子里,她的信鼓励着他,给予他力量。收到她的信,他就仿佛感到自己能存活下去。

一段时间后,他相信他们彼此相爱,就像是命运让他们走到了一起。

但当他向她索要照片时,她却婉然拒绝。她解释道:“如果你对我的感情是真实和真诚的,那么我长什么样又有什么关系呢。假如我很漂亮,我会因为觉得你爱的只是我的美貌而时时困扰,那样的爱会让我厌恶。假如我相貌平平,那我又会常常害怕你只是出于寂寞和别无他选才给我写信的。不管是哪种情况,我都会阻止自己去爱你。当你来纽约见我时,你可以做出自己的决定。记住,那时候我们两个人都可以自由选择停止或继续下去──如果那是我们的选择……”

差一分六点……布兰福德的心怦怦乱跳。

一名年轻女子向他走来,他立刻感到自己与她之间存在着一种联系。她身材修长而苗条,漂亮的金色长发卷曲在小巧的耳后。她的眼睛如蓝色的花朵,双唇间有着一种温柔的坚毅。她身穿别致的绿色套装,犹如春天般生气盎然。

他向她迎去,完全忘记了她并没有佩戴玫瑰。看他走来,她的嘴角露出一丝热情的微笑。

“当兵的,跟我同路?”她问道。

他不由自主地向她靠近了一步。然后,他看见了霍利斯?梅内尔。

她就站在那少女的身后,一位四十好几的女人,头发斑斑灰白。在年轻的他的眼里,梅内尔简直就是一块活脱脱的化石。她不是一般的胖,粗笨的双腿移动时摇摇晃晃。但她棕色的外衣上戴着一朵红色的玫瑰。

绿衣少女快速地走过,很快消失在了雾中。布兰福德觉得自己的心好像被压缩成一个小水泥球,他多想跟着那女孩,但又深深地向往那位以心灵真诚地陪伴他、带给他温暖的女人;而她正站在那里。现在他可以看见,她苍白而肥胖的脸上透着和善与智慧。她灰色的眼中闪烁着温暖和善良。

布兰福德克制住跟随年轻女子而去的冲动,尽管这样做并不容易。他的手抓着那本在他去战场前她寄给他的书,为的是让霍利斯?梅内尔认出他。这不会成为爱情,但将成为一样珍贵的东西,一样可能比爱情更不寻常的东西──一份他一直感激、也将继续感激的友情。

他向那个女人举起书。

“我是约翰?布兰福德,你──你就是霍利斯?梅内尔吧。我非常高兴你能来见我。我能请你吃晚餐么?”那女人微笑着。“我不知道这到底是怎么回事,孩子,”她答道:“那位穿绿色套装的年轻女士──刚走过去的那位──请求我把这朵玫瑰别在衣服上。她说如果你邀请我和你一起出去,我就告诉你她在公路附近的那家大餐厅等你。她说这是一种考验。”

Love Under the Nazis

It is cold on this winter day in 1942. But it is no different from any other day in this Nazi concentration camp. I am almost dead, surviving from day to day, from hour to hour, ever since I was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands of other Jews. We suffer under the whips of the terrible Nazis. Will I still be alive tomorrow? Will I be taken to the gas chamber tonight? Or will a security guard simply shoot me with his rifle?

Back and forth I walk next to the wire fence. I am not thinking about my steps; I am moving mechanically across the landscape, kneeling on occasion when I think I see a bit of timber or other item that I can use to start a fire. Suddenly, I notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the wire. She has the light, gravity-free steps of a fairy. She stops and looks at me with sad eyes. The camp has taken its toll on me. I want to look away, as I feel oddly ashamed for this stranger to see me like this, sickly thin and in torn, stained clothing, but I cannot take my eyes from hers.

Then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a red apple. Oh, how long has it been since I have seen one! And how this one shines—greater than any crystal! She looks cautiously around, and then quickly throws the apple over the fence. I pick it up and hold it in my frozen fingers. In my world of death, this apple is an expression of life, and her act is the product of love. I glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance.

The next day, I am drawn to that spot near the fence, as if pulled by a magnetic force. Am I crazy for hoping

she will come again? Of course. But in here, I cling to any tiny trace of hope.

Again, she comes. And again, she brings me an apple, flinging it over the fence with greater precision than before so that the apple flies over the fence and drops directly above me. I catch it as it is descending. I hold it up for her to see. Her eyes shine.

For seven months, we meet like this, and I am becoming accustomed to this apple diet, but it soon comes to an end. One day I hear frightening news: I am being shipped to another camp.

The next day when I greet her, my heart is breaking, and I can hardly speak as I say what must be said: "Do not bring me an apple tomorrow," I tell her. "I am being sent to another camp. We will never see each other again." Turning before I lose all control, I run away from the fence. I cannot bear to look back. If I do, I know she would see the tears streaming down my face.

Years pass. It is 1957. I am living in New York City, a far cry from the awful scenery of Nazi Germany. And I have achieved a modest amount of prosperity, having gone into the business of aluminum fence installation and recycling. A friend, who is in the insurance business, convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. Reluctantly, I agree. But she is nice, this woman named Roma. And like me, she is a foreigner, so we have at least that in common.

"Were you exiled during the war?" Roma asks me gently, in that careful way people with experience ask one another questions about those years.

"No. I was in a concentration camp in Germany," I reply. I don't specify which camp, or give any other details right then. Telling the story has become tedious, as I have done it so many times.

Roma gets a faraway look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You see, when I was a young girl, I lived near a concentration camp. There was a boy there, a prisoner, and for a long while, I used to visit him every day. I remember I used to purchase apples and throw them to him. I would throw the apple over the fence, and he would be so happy."

With my heart pounding loudly, I look directly at Roma and ask, "And did that boy say to you one day, 'Do not bring me an apple tomorrow. I am being sent to another camp'?"

"Why, yes," Roma says, her voice trembling. "But how on earth could you possibly know that?"

I get up from the table, embrace her, and answer, "Because I was that young boy, Roma."

1942年冬季的一天,寒冷刺骨。但在纳粹集中营中,这与别的日子没有什么差别。自我从家中被人带走并随着数万犹太人被带到这儿以来,我已濒临死亡,只能活一天算一天,活一小时算一小时。我们在纳粹可怕的皮鞭下受尽煎熬。明天我还会活着吗?今晚我会不会被带到毒气室去?或是被警卫简简单单地用来复枪射杀?

我在铁丝网边踱来踱去。

我并没有留意自己的脚步,只是机械地在这块地上移动,在发现可以用来生火的一小块木头或其他东西时,我偶尔跪下来查看一下。

突然,我看到一个小女孩从铁丝网那边走来。

她的步履轻盈,仿佛不受重力的影响,宛如仙子。她停下来,用忧伤的眼睛看着我。集中营里的生活已经损害了我的健康。我想把目光挪开,因为我一副病容、枯瘦如柴,又穿着破烂肮脏的衣服,被一个陌生人这样打量,我感到特别害臊,但我的目光却无法从她的眼睛移开。

这时她把手伸进口袋,掏出一个红苹果。噢,我有多久没有看到这样的苹果了!它又是多么地闪闪发亮——比任何水晶都耀眼!她非常谨慎地左右看看,然后一下子把它抛过铁栅栏。我把它捡起来,用我冻僵的手捧着它。在这充满死亡的世界中,这苹果无疑代表了生命,而她的举动就是爱的果实。我抬头瞥见那女孩在远处渐渐消失。

第二天,就像被磁力吸引一样,我又来到了铁丝网边的那块地方。我希望她再次出现。我是不是疯了?当然是。但在这里,我不放弃任何一丝微小的希望。

她又来了。她又一次给我带来了苹果,比上次更精确地将它抛过了铁丝网。苹果飞过铁丝网,正好从我的头顶上方落下来。我在空中接住了苹果,高举着让她看。她的眼中闪着光芒。

接下来的七个月我们就这样相会,而我也习惯了这样的苹果餐,但不久一切都结束了。一天,我听到一个骇人的消息:我将被押往另一个集中营。

第二天,当我再见到她的时候,我的心都碎了,我几乎无法说话,但我必须说明白:“明天别再给我带苹果了,”我告诉她说:“我将被押往另一个集中营。我们再也不能见面了。”在我完全失去控制前我转身从铁丝网边跑开了。我实在不忍心再回头看。如果我转身,我知道,她会看见我的脸颊上滑落的眼泪。

岁月流逝。转眼到了1957年。我住在纽约,生活状况与纳粹德国期间的情景相差何止天地。我做铝栅栏安装和回收的生意,并且发了点小财。我一个做保险的朋友劝说我与他的一位女性朋友相亲。我勉强同意了。她人还不错,叫罗玛,像我一样,她也是移民,因此至少在这一点上我们有共同之处。

“你是在战争期间流亡来到这里的吗?”罗玛用移民相互之间问及那段岁月时所特有的体贴方式柔声细语地问道。

“不是。那时我在德国的集中营里,”我答道。我没有说明哪个集中营,也没有说其他任何细节。这个故事太乏味了,因为我已经重复过许多次了。

罗玛的双眼透出若有所思的神色,好像回忆起了某件痛苦而又甜蜜的事情。

“你怎么了?”我问她。

“是这样,我小时候住在集中营附近。那儿有一个男孩,一个小囚犯,有很长一段时间我每天都去看他。我记得我常常带苹果去扔给他。我把苹果从铁丝网上扔过去,那时他会非常开心。”

我的心猛地一下子剧烈地跳动起来。我凝视着她问:“是不是那个男孩有一天对你说‘明天别给我带苹果了。我将被押往另外一个集中营’?”

“没错,是啊,”罗玛用颤抖的声音应道。“但你怎么会知道的?”

我从桌边站起身来,拥抱着她说:“因为我就是那个小男孩,罗玛。”

Unit 5

Weeping for My Smoking Daughter

My daughter smokes. While she is doing her homework, her feet on the bench in front of her and her calculator clicking out answers to her geometry problems, I am looking at the half-empty package of Camels tossed carelessly close at hand. I pick them up, take them into the kitchen, where the light is better, and study them—they're filtered, for which I am grateful. My heart feels terrible. I want to weep. In fact, I do weep a little, standing there by the stove holding one of the instruments, so white, so precisely rolled, that could cause my daughter's death. When she smoked Marlboros and Players I hardened myself against feeling so bad; nobody I knew ever smoked these brands.

She doesn't know this, but it was Camels that my father, her grandfather, smoked. But before he smoked cigarettes made by manufacturers—when he was very young and very poor, with glowing eyes—he smoked Prince Albert tobacco in cigarettes he rolled himself. I remember the bright-red tobacco tin, with a picture of Queen Victoria's partner, Prince Albert, dressed in a black dress coat and carrying a cane.

By the late forties and early fifties no one rolled his own anymore (and few women smoked) in my hometown of Eatonton, Georgia. The tobacco industry, coupled with Hollywood movies in which both male and female heroes smoked like chimneys, completely won over people like my father, who were hopelessly hooked by cigarettes. He never looked as fashionable as Prince Albert, though; he continued to look like a poor, overweight, hard-working colored man with too large a family, black, with a very white cigarette stuck in his mouth.

I do not remember when he started to cough. Perhaps it was unnoticeable at first, a little coughing in the morning as he lit his first cigarette upon getting out of bed. By the time I was sixteen, my daughter's age, his breath was a wheeze, embarrassing to hear; he could not climb stairs without resting every third or fourth step. It was not unusual for him to cough for an hour.

My father died from "the poor man's friend", pneumonia, one hard winter when his lung illnesses had left him low. I doubt he had much lung left at all, after coughing for so many years. He had so little breath that, during his last years, he was always leaning on something. I remembered once, at a family reunion, when my daughter was two, that my father picked her up for a minute—long enough for me to photograph them—but the effort was obvious. Near the very end of his life, and largely because he had no more lungs, he quit smoking. He gained a couple of pounds, but by then he was so slim that no one noticed.

When I travel to Third World countries I see many people like my father and daughter. There are large advertisement signs directed at them both: the tough, confident or fashionable older man, the beautiful, "worldly" young woman, both dragging away. In these poor countries, as in American inner cities and on reservations, money that should be spent for food goes instead to the tobacco companies; over time, people starve themselves of both food and air, effectively weakening and hooking their children, eventually killing themselves. I read in the newspaper and in my gardening magazine that the ends of cigarettes are so poisonous that if a baby swallows one, it is likely to die, and that the boiled water from a bunch of them makes an effective insecticide.

There is a deep hurt that I feel as a mother. Some days it is a feeling of uselessness. I remember how carefully I ate when I was pregnant, how patiently I taught my daughter how to cross a street safely. For what, I sometimes wonder; so that she can struggle to breathe through most of her life feeling half her strength, and then die of self-poisoning, as her grandfather did?

There is a quotation from a battered women's shelter that I especially like: "Peace on earth begins at home."

I believe everything does. I think of a quotation for people trying to stop smoking: "Every home is a no-smoking zone." Smoking is a form of self-battering that also batters those who must sit by, occasionally joke or complain, and helplessly watch. I realize now that as a child I sat by, through the years, and literally watched my father kill himself: Surely one such victory in my family, for the prosperous leaders who own the tobacco companies, is enough.

我女儿抽烟。她做作业时,脚搁在前面的长凳上,计算器嗒嗒地跳出几何题的答案。我看着那包已抽了一半、她随意扔在手边的“骆驼”牌香烟。我拿起香烟,走到厨房里去仔细察看,那里的光线好一点──谢天谢地,香烟是有过滤嘴的。我心里十分难过。我想哭。事实上,我确实哭过。我站在炉子旁边,手里捏着一支雪白的香烟,制作得非常精致,但那可是会致我女儿于死地的东西啊。当她抽“万宝路”及“普雷厄尔”牌香烟时,我硬起心肠,不让自己感到难过。我认识的人当中没有人抽这两种牌子的香烟。

她不知道我父亲、也就是她外公生前抽的就是“骆驼”牌香烟。但是在他开始抽机制卷烟之前──那时他很年轻、也很穷,眼睛炯炯有神──他抽的是用“阿尔伯特亲王牌”烟丝自己手工卷的香烟。我还记得那鲜红的烟丝盒,上面有一张维多利亚女王丈夫阿尔伯特亲王的照片,他身穿黑色燕尾服,手里拿着一支手杖。

到40年代末、50年代初,我的家乡佐治亚州的伊腾顿已没有人再自己手工卷烟了(而且几乎没有女人抽烟)。烟草业,再加上好莱坞电影──影片中的男女主角都是烟鬼──把像我父亲这样的人完完全全争取了过去,他们无可救药地抽烟抽上了瘾。然而我父亲从来就没有像阿尔伯特亲王那样时髦过。他还是一个贫穷、过于肥胖、为养活一大家人而拼命干活的男人。他是黑人,嘴里却总叼着一支雪白的香烟。

我记不清父亲是什么时候开始咳嗽的。也许开始时并不明显,只是早晨一下床点燃第一支香烟时才有点微咳。到我16岁,也就是我女儿现在这般年纪时,他一呼吸就呼哧呼哧的,让人感到不安;他上楼时每走三、四级楼梯就得停下来休息一会儿,而且,他常常一连咳上一个小时。

肺部的病痛把我父亲折磨得虚弱不堪,一个严冬,他死于被称为“穷人之友”的疾病──肺炎。他咳嗽了这么多年,我想他的肺部已没有什么完好的地方了。去世前几年,他的呼吸已经很虚弱了,他总得倚靠着某个东西。我记得有一次全家聚会,当时我女儿才两岁,他抱了她一会儿,好让我有时间给他俩拍张照片。但是很明显,他是费了好大劲儿的。生命行将结束前,他才戒了烟,主要是因为他的肺功能已极度受损。戒烟后他的体重增加了几磅,但当时他太瘦了,所以没人注意到这一点。

我到第三世界国家去旅行时,看到了许多像我父亲和女儿那样的人。到处都有针对他们这两类人的巨大广告牌:强壮、自信或时髦的成熟男人,以及漂亮、“世故”的年青女子,都在吞云吐雾。就像在美国的旧城区和印第安人的居留地上一样,在这些贫困的国家里,那些本应该花在食物上的钱却流进了烟草公司。久而久之,人们不但缺少食物,而且还缺少空气,这样不但大大地损害了孩子们的体质,还使他们染上了烟瘾,最终还会致他们于死地。我在报纸还有我订阅的园艺杂志上看到,烟蒂的毒性很强:一个婴儿如果吞下了一个烟蒂,就很有可能会死去,而沸水加一把烟蒂就成了很有效的杀虫剂。

作为母亲,我深深地感到痛苦。有时我有一种无能为力的感觉。我记得自己怀孕时,吃东西的时候是多么小心啊!之后在教她如何安全穿过马路时,又是多么耐心啊!有时我纳闷:自己这样做到底是为了什么?难道是为了她今后大半辈子有气无力地挣扎着呼吸,然后再像她外公那样自己把自己毒死吗?

我特别喜欢一条写在受虐妇女收容所里的语录:“人间和平,始于家庭。”我认为世上所有的东西都是如此。我还想起了另一条写给那些想戒烟的人们的语录:“每个家庭都应该是禁烟区。”抽烟是一种自我毁灭,而且也毁灭着那些不得不坐在你身边的人。那些人偶尔也会取笑或抱怨你抽烟,可常常只能无可奈何地坐在一边看。我现在意识到,从我还是个孩子起,这些年来我实际上是一直坐在旁边,看着我父亲自杀。对那些生意兴隆的烟草公司的巨头们来说,能在我家取得这样一种胜利,肯定是够满意了。

Stop Spoiling Your Children

While traveling for various speaking appointments, I frequently stay overnight in the home of a family and am assigned to one of the children's bedrooms. In it, I often find so many toys that there's almost no room—even for my small lavatory or toilet kit. And the closet is usually so tightly packed with clothes that I can barely squeeze in my jacket.

I'm not complaining, only making a point. I think the tendency to give children too many toys and clothes is quite common in American families. I think in far too many families not only do children come to take their parents' generosity for granted, but also the effects of this can actually be somewhat harmful to children.

Why do parents give their children too much, or give them things they can't afford? I believe there are several reasons.

One fairly common reason is that parents spoil their children out of a sense of guilt. Parents who both hold down full-time jobs may feel guilty about the amount of time they spend away from their children and, as accommodation for being away so much, may attempt to compensate by showering them with material possessions.

Other parents provide too much because they want their children to have everything they had while growing up, along with those things they pined for but didn't get. Still others are afraid to say no to their children's endless requests for toys for fear that their children will infer they are unloved or will be made fun of if they don't obtain the same toys as their friends have.

Spoiling a child also happens when parents are unable to stand up to their children's unreasonable demands. Such parents fluctuate between saying no and giving in—but neither response seems satisfactory to them. If they refuse a request, they immediately feel a wave of regret for having been so strict or ungenerous. If they give in, they feel regret and resentment over having been too easy. This kind of variability not only loosens the parents' ability to set limits, it also sours the parent-child relationship to some degree, robbing parents and their children of some of the happiness and mutual respect that is present in healthy families.

But spoiling children with material things does little to reduce parental guilt (since parents never feel they've given enough), nor does it make children feel more loved (for what children really desire is parents' time and attention). Instead, the effects of providing too much can be harmful. Children may, to some degree, become greedy, selfish, ungrateful and insensitive to the needs and feelings of others, beginning with their parents. When children are given too much, it undermines their respect for their parents. In fact, the children begin to sense that a parent's unlimited generosity is not right. The contradiction as a result may be that these children, conversely, will push further, unconsciously hoping that, if they push too hard, they will force their parents into setting

limitations.

Also, spoiled children are not as challenged to be more creative in their play as children with fewer toys. They have fewer opportunities to learn the value of money, and have less experience in learning to deal with delay in satisfaction, when every requested object is given on demand.

The real purpose of this discussion is not to tell parents how much or how little to give to their children. Rather, my intention is to help those parents who have already sensed that they might be spoiling their children but don't know how to stop.

Sometimes you may feel uncertain about whether to give in to many of your children's requests. That doesn't mean you can't change. First, you should try to determine what makes you submit or feel guilty. Then, even if you haven't uncovered the reason, you should begin to make firm decisions and practice responding to your children's requests in a prompt, definite manner.

Once you turn over a new leaf, you can't expect to change completely right away. You are bound to fluctuate at times. The key is to be satisfied with gradual improvement, expecting and accepting the occasional slips that come with any change. And even after you are handling these decisions in a firmer and more confident manner, you can't expect your children to respond immediately. For a while they'll keep on applying the old pressures that used to work so well. But they'll eventually come to respect your decisions once they learn that nagging and arguing no longer work. In the end, both you and your children will be happier for it.

我四处奔波,应约作各种演讲,常在别人家里过夜,也常被安排在孩子的卧室里。我发现孩子房间里的玩具实在太多,甚至连我小小的梳妆盒也无处可放。壁橱通常也是塞满了衣服,我几乎无法把夹克衫塞进去。

我不是在抱怨,只是在表明一种观点。我发现父母给孩子们买的玩具和衣服越来越多,这种倾向在美国家庭已是司空见惯。我认为在很多家庭中,孩子们都把家长的慷慨大方视作理所当然的事情,而且这种做法的后果实际上对孩子们来说也是有害的。

家长为什么要给孩子们那么多的东西,或者要给孩子们他们买不起的东西呢?我认为有几方面的原因。

一个颇为常见的原因就是父母亲们出于内疚而溺爱孩子。两人都是全职工作者的父母也许会因为不能常常和孩子在一起而感到内疚。他们可能想通过给孩子们大量物质的东西作为对他们的补偿。

还有一些父母给孩子买这买那,是因为他们想让孩子拥有他们自己童年时所拥有的每一样东西,以及那些他们过去想得到而未能得到的东西。还有一些家长不愿拒绝孩子们永无休止的买玩具的要求,是因为他们害怕孩子会认为父母不爱他们,或者害怕如果他们得不到和小伙伴们相同的玩具会被人取笑。

当家长无法应付孩子的无理要求时,也会发生溺爱孩子的现象。这样的父母会在拒绝和让步之间动摇不定──但是好像哪种办法都不能使他们满意。如果他们拒绝孩子的请求,他们会因为对孩子太严格或太不慷慨而立即感到后悔。如果他们让步了,也会因为太容易让步而感到懊悔和自责。这样的摇摆不定不但削弱了父母管教孩子的能力,同时也在某种程度上使父母与子女之间的关系变味,从而使家长和子女间失去了存在于健康家庭中的某些幸福和相互尊重。

但是,用物质的东西来溺爱孩子并不能减轻父母的内疚感(因为父母从不会感到他们已经付出了足够多),也不会使孩子们觉得自己得到了更多的爱(因为孩子真正想要的是父母的时间和对他们的注意)。相反,给孩子们太多的东西可能是有害的。在一定程度上,孩子们可能会变得贪婪、自私、忘恩负义,对他人的需要和感情变得麻木不仁,而且首先从对自己父母的态度开始。给孩子们的东西太多会逐渐削弱他们对父母的尊敬。事实上,孩子们已经开始感到父母的无限制的慷慨大方是不对的。这种矛盾的结果可能是这些孩子会反过来提出更高的要求,并下意识地希望,如果他们逼得更紧一些,他们就能迫使父母对自己设立些限制。

另外,被宠坏的孩子也并不比那些没什么玩具的孩子在做游戏时被激发出更大的创造性。由于有求必应,他们了解金钱价值的机会就比别人少,而且当他们的要求无法即刻得到满足时,他们也不知如何去应付。

我讨论这个问题的真正目的不是要告诉家长们应该给孩子们多少物质的东西才适当。确切地讲,我的目的是帮助那些已经意识到自己也许是在宠坏孩子、但又不知道如何纠正这一做法的家长们。

有时你也许会对自己是否要对孩子提出的许多要求作出让步感到没有把握。这并不意味着你不能改变。首先,你应该设法弄清楚是什么东西使你让步,或者让你感到内疚。然后,即使没能找出原因,你也应该开始作出果断的决定,试着对孩子的要求作出迅速明确的反应。

一旦你改变了以往的做法,你也不能指望马上有效果。有时你肯定会摇摆不定。关键是你要对逐渐的进步感到满足,要预见到并接受可能伴随这种改变而来的偶尔失误。还有,即使你以更坚定、更自信的方式实施着你的决定,也不能指望你的孩子会马上作出反应。在一段时间内,他们会继续对你施加曾经很有效的、老一套的压力。但一旦他们知道不停的抱怨和争论再也不起作用时,他们最终会尊重你的决定。这样做的结果是:你和你的孩子都会感到比以前更加开心。

Unit 6

As His Name Is, So Is He!

For her first twenty-four years, she'd been known as Debbie—a name that didn't suit her good looks and elegant manner. "My name has always made me think I should be a cook," she complained. "I just don't feel like a Debbie."

One day, while filling out an application form for a publishing job, the young woman impulsively substituted her middle name, Lynne, for her first name Debbie. "That was the smartest thing I ever did," she says now. "As soon as I stopped calling myself Debbie, I felt more comfortable with myself... and other people started to take me more seriously." Two years after her successful job interview, the former waitress is now a successful magazine editor. Friends and associates call her Lynne.

Naturally, the name change didn't cause Debbie/Lynne's professional achievement—but it surely helped if only by adding a bit of self-confidence to her talents. Social scientists say that what you're called can affect your life. Throughout history, names have not merely identified people but also described them. "As his name is, so is he." says the Bible, and Webster's Dictionary includes the following definition of name: "a word or words expressing some quality considered characteristic or descriptive of a person or a thing, often expressing approval or disapproval". Note well "approval or disapproval". For better or worse, qualities such as friendliness or reserve, plainness or charm may be suggested by your name and conveyed to other people before they even meet you.

Names become attached to specific images, as anyone who's been called "a plain Jane" or "just an average Joe" can show. The latter name particularly bothers me since my name is Joe, which some think makes me more qualified to be a baseball player than, say, an art critic. Yet, despite this disadvantage, I did manage to become an art critic for a time. Even so, one prominent magazine consistently refused to print "Joe" in my by-line, using my first initials, J. S., instead. I suspect that if I were a more refined Arthur or Adrian, the name would have appeared complete.

Of course, names with a positive sense can work for you and even encourage new acquaintances. A recent survey showed that American men thought Susan to be the most attractive female name, while women believed Richard and David were the most attractive for men. One woman I know turned down a blind date with a man named Harry because "he sounded dull". Several evenings later, she came up to me at a party, pressing for an introduction to a very impressive man; they'd been exchanging glances all evening. "Oh," I said. "You mean Harry." She was ill at ease.

Though most of us would like to think ourselves free from such prejudiced notions, we're all guilty of name stereotyping to some extent. Confess: Wouldn't you be surprised to meet a carpenter named Nigel? A physicist named Bertha? A Pope Mel? Often, we project name-based stereotypes on people, as one woman friend discovered while taking charge of a nursery school's group of four-year-olds. "There I was, trying to get a little active boy named Julian to sit quietly and read a book—and pushing a thoughtful creature named Rory to play

ball. I had their personalities confused because of their names!"

Apparently, such prejudices can affect classroom achievement as well. In a study conducted by Herbert Harari of San Diego State University, and John McDavid of Georgia State University, teachers gave consistently lower grades on essays apparently written by boys named Elmer and Hubert than they awarded to the same papers when the writers' names were given as Michael and David. However, teacher prejudice isn't the only source of classroom difference. Dr. Thomas V. Busse and Louisa Seraydarian of Temple University found those girls with names such as Linda, Diane, Barbara, Carol, and Cindy performed better on objectively graded IQ and achievement tests than did girls with less appealing names. (A companion study showed girls' popularity with their peers was also related to the popularity of their names―although the connection was less clear for boys.) Though your parents probably meant your name to last a lifetime, remember that when they picked it they'd hardly met you, and the hopes and dreams they valued when they chose it may not match yours. If your name no longer seems to fit you, don't despair; you aren't stuck with the label. Movie stars regularly change their names, and with some determination, you can, too.

在她人生最初的24年里,人们一直叫她戴比──一个和她的漂亮容貌和优雅举止不相配的名字。“我的名字总是使我觉得自己应该是一个厨子,”她抱怨道,“我真的不想要戴比这个名字。”

一天,在填写一份出版工作职位的申请表时,这位小姐一时冲动,用她的中名林恩替换了她的名字戴比。“这是我一生中干得最漂亮的一件事,”现在她对人这样说,“一旦我不再称自己为戴比,我就感到好多了……而且其他人也开始更认真地对待我了。”顺利地通过那次工作面试两年后,这位昔日的女服务员现在成了一位成功的杂志编辑。朋友和同事们都叫她林恩。

当然,戴比(或林恩)的职业成就并不是改名带来的,但是这肯定给她带来了好处,虽说改名仅使她对自己的才能增加了一点点自信。社会科学家认为你叫什么名字会影响你的生活。从古至今,名字不仅被用来识别人,而且也被用来描述人。《圣经》上说:人如其名。此外,《韦伯斯特大词典》也对名字作了如下的定义:表达某种特点的一个或几个字,这种特点被认为反映了某人或某事的本质,或描述了某人某事,常表示嘉许或不赞成的意思。请好好注意这几个词:“嘉许或不赞成”。不管是好是坏,诸如友好或拘谨、相貌平平或漂亮妩媚等特征已经在你的名字中有所暗示,甚至他人在见到你本人之前就已经知道你的这些特征了。

名字是与特定形象相关联的,任何一个被称为“相貌平常的简”或“普普通通的乔”的人都能证明这一点。后面的那个名字特别使我烦恼,因为我也叫乔。有些人认为这个名字使我更适合于做一名棒球运动员而不是别的什么职业,比如说艺术评论家。然而,尽管有此局限,我确实曾一度设法成为了一名艺术评论家。即便如此,一家著名杂志一直拒绝把“乔”作为我的文章署名,而是用我名字的首字母J. S. 来代替。我怀疑,假如我的名字是比较文雅的阿瑟或艾德里安的话,我的名字早已完整地出现在杂志上了。

当然,有积极含义的名字对你是有好处的,甚至能促进你结交新朋友。最新调查表明:美国男士认为苏珊是最有吸引力的女性名字,而女士则认为理查德和戴维是最有吸引力的男性名字。我认识一位女士,她就拒绝了一次与一位叫哈里的男人见面,因为“这人的名字听上去没劲”。可就在几天后的一个晚间聚会上,她走到我身边,催我把她介绍给一位气度不凡的男人;他们俩人整个晚上都在互送秋波。“哦,”我说:“你指的是哈里呀。”她听了后感到很尴尬。

虽然我们中大多数人会认为自己没有这样的偏见,但在某种程度上,我们都多多少少对名字产生过成见。说实话,你碰到一个名叫奈杰尔的木匠会不会感到惊讶呢?或是一个叫伯莎的物理学家?抑或是一个叫梅尔的教皇?正如我的一位女性朋友在照看托儿所里四岁的儿童时所发现的那样,我们常常把由名字引起的固有想法加到他人身上。“在托儿所里,有一次我想让一个很活跃的名叫朱利安的小男孩静静地坐下来看书,而把一个喜欢沉思、名叫罗里的孩子推出去打球。因为他们的名字,我把他们的性格给搞混了!”

很明显,这样的偏见也会影响课堂成绩。在一项由圣迭戈州立大学的赫伯特?哈拉里及乔治亚州立大学的约翰?麦克戴维主持的研究中发现,教师总是给署名为埃尔默和休伯特的作文打较低的分数,但当把

新视野大学英语读写教程第三版第一册课文翻译

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新视野大学英语第三版第二册读写课文翻译 Unit 1 Text A 一堂难忘的英语课 1 如果我是唯一一个还在纠正小孩英语的家长,那么我儿子也许是对的。对他而言,我是一个乏味的怪物:一个他不得不听其教诲的父亲,一个还沉湎于语法规则的人,对此我儿子似乎颇为反感。 2 我觉得我是在最近偶遇我以前的一位学生时,才开始对这个问题认真起来的。这个学生刚从欧洲旅游回来。我满怀着诚挚期待问她:“欧洲之行如何?” 3 她点了三四下头,绞尽脑汁,苦苦寻找恰当的词语,然后惊呼:“真是,哇!” 4 没了。所有希腊文明和罗马建筑的辉煌居然囊括于一个浓缩的、不完整的语句之中!我的学生以“哇!”来表示她的惊叹,我只能以摇头表达比之更强烈的忧虑。 5 关于正确使用英语能力下降的问题,有许多不同的故事。学生的确本应该能够区分诸如their/there/they're之间的不同,或区别complimentary 跟complementary之间显而易见的差异。由于这些知识缺陷,他们承受着大部分不该承受的批评和指责,因为舆论认为他们应该学得更好。 6 学生并不笨,他们只是被周围所看到和听到的语言误导了。举例来说,杂货店的指示牌会把他们引向stationary(静止处),虽然便笺本、相册、和笔记本等真正的stationery(文具用品)并没有被钉在那儿。朋友和亲人常宣称They've just ate。实际上,他们应该说They've just eaten。因此,批评学生不合乎情理。 7 对这种缺乏语言功底而引起的负面指责应归咎于我们的学校。学校应对英语熟练程度制定出更高的标准。可相反,学校只教零星的语法,高级词汇更是少之又少。还有就是,学校的年轻教师显然缺乏这些重要的语言结构方面的知识,因为他们过去也没接触过。学校有责任教会年轻人进行有效的语言沟通,可他们并没把语言的基本框架——准确的语法和恰当的词汇——充分地传授给学生。

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