Unit 1 Love
A Good Heart to Lean On
Augustus J. Bullock
More than I realized, Dad has helped me keep my balance.
 When I was growing up, I was embarrassed to be seen with my father. He was severely crippled and very short, and when we would walk together, his hand on my arm for balance, people would stare. I would be ashamed of the unwanted attention. If he ever noticed or was bothered, he never let on.
 It was difficult to coordinate our steps—his halting, mine impatient—and because of that, we didn't say much as we went along. But as we started out, he always said, “You set the pace. I will try to adjust to you. ”
 Our usual walk was to or from the subway, which was how he got to work. He went to work sick, and despite nasty weather. He almost never missed a day, and would make it to the office even if others could not. It was a matter of pride for him.
 When snow or ice was on the ground, it was impossible for him to walk, even with help. At such times my sisters or I would pull him through the streets of Brooklyn , N.Y. , on a child's sleigh to the subway entrance. Once there, he would cling to the handrail until he reached the lower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept ice-free. In Manhattan the subway station was the basement of his office building, and he would not have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn on his way home.
 When I think of it now, I marvel at how much courage it must have taken for a grown man to subject himself to such indignity and stress. And I marvel at how he did it—without bitterness or complaint.
 He never talked about himself as an object of pity, nor did he show any envy of the more fortunate or able. What he looked for in others was a “good heart”, and if he found one, the owner was good enough for him.
 Now that I am older, I believe that is a proper standard by which to judge people, even though I still don't know precisely what a “good heart” is. But I know the times I don't have one myself.
 Unable to engage in many activities, my father still tried to participate in some way. When a local baseball team found itself without a manager, he kept it going. He was a knowledgeable baseball fan and often took me to Ebbets Field to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play. He liked to go to dances and parties, where he could have a good time just sitting and watching.
 On one memorable occasion a fight broke out at a beach party, with everyone punching and shoving. He wasn't content to sit and watch, but he couldn't stand unaided on the soft sand. In frustration he began to shout, “I'll fight anyone who will sit down with me! I'll fight anyone who will sit down with me! ”
 Nobody did. But the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.
 I now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. When I played ball (poorly), he “played” too. When I joined the Navy, he “joined” too. And when I came home on leave, he saw to it that I visited his office. Introducing me, he was really saying, “This is my son, but it is also me, and I could have done this, too, if things had been different. ” Those words were never said aloud.
 He has been gone many years now, but I think of him often. I wonder if he sensed my reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. If he did, I am sorry I never told him how sorry I was, how unworthy I was, how I regretted it. I think of him when I complain about trifles, when I am envious of another's good fortune, when I don't have a “good heart”.
 At such times I put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, “You set the pace. I will try to adjust to you.”
奥古斯塔斯? J ?布洛克
4 当地上有冰或雪的时候，即使有人帮忙他也无法走路。这时，我或者我的姐妹就用孩子玩的雪撬拉着他，穿过纽约布鲁克林的街道，直到地铁的入口处。一到那儿，他就能紧紧抓住扶手一直走下去, 地铁道里比较暖和，下面的楼梯不结冰。曼哈顿的地铁站正好是他办公楼的地下室，因此除了从布鲁克林我们去接他的地方到回家为止，他都不用再出去。
A Kiss for Kate
 Every afternoon when I came on duty as the evening nurse, I would walk the halls of the nursing home, pausing at each door to chat and observe. Often, Kate and Chris, their big scrapbooks in their laps, would be reminiscing over the photos. Proudly, Kate showed me pictures of bygone years: Chris —tall, blond, handsome; Kate pretty, dark-haired, laughing. Two young lovers smiling through the passing seasons. How lovely they looked now, sitting there, the light shining on their white heads, their time-wrinkled faces smiling at the memories of the years, caught and held forever in the scrapbooks.
 How little the young know of loving, I'd think. How foolish to think they have a monopoly on such a precious commodity. The old know what loving truly means; the young can only guess.
 Kate and Chris were always together—in the dining room, the lounge, strolling around the big porches and lawns, always holding hands. As we staff members ate our evening meal, sometimes Kate and Chris would walk slowly by the dining-room doors. Then conversation would turn to a discussion of the couple's love and devotion, and what would happen when one of them died. We knew Chris was the strong one, and Kate was dependent upon him.
 How would Kate function if Chris were to die first? We often wondered.
 Bedtime followed a ritual. When I brought the evening medication, Kate would be sitting in her chair, in nightgown and slippers, awaiting my arrival. Under the watchful eyes of Chris and myself, Kate would take her pill, then carefully Chris would help her from the chair to the bed and tuck the covers in around her frail body.
 Observing this act of love, I would think for the thousandth time, good heavens, why don't nursing homes have double beds for married couples? All their lives they have slept together, but in a nursing home, they're expected to sleep in single beds. Overnight they're deprived of a comfort of a lifetime.
 How very foolish such policies are, I would think as I watched Chris reach up and turn off the light above Kate's bed. Then tenderly he would bend, and they would kiss gently. Chris would pat her cheek, and both would smile. He would pull up the side rail on her bed, and only then would he turn and accept his own medication. As I walked into the hall, I could hear Chris say, “Good night, Kate,” and her returning voice, “Good night, Chris,” while the space of an entire room separated their two beds.
 I had been off duty two days and when I returned, the first news I heard was, “Chris died yesterday morning.”
 “A heart attack. It happened quickly.”
 “How's Kate?”
 I went into Kate's room. She sat in her chair, motionless, hands in her lap, staring. Taking her hands in mine, I said, “Kate, it's Phyllis.”
 Her eyes never shifted; she only stared. I placed my hand under her chin and slowly turned her head so she had to look at me.
 “Kate, I just found out about Chris. I'm so sorry.”
 At the word “Chris”, her e yes came back to life. She looked at me, puzzled, as though wondering how I had suddenly appeared. “ Kate, it's me, Phyllis. I'm so sorry about Chris.”
 Recognition and sadness flooded her face. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. “Chris is gone,” she whispered.
 “I know,” I said. “I know.”
 We pampered Kate for a while, letting her eat in her room, surrounding her with special attention. Then gradually the staff worked her back into the old schedule. Often, as I went past her room, I would observe Kate sitting in her chair, scrapbooks on her lap, gazing sadly at pictures of Chris.
 Bedtime was the worst part of the day for Kate. Although she was allowed to move from her bed to Chris's bed, and although the staff chatted and laughed with her as they tucked her in for the night, still Kate remained silent and sadly withdrawn. Passing her room an hour after she had been tucked in, I'd find her wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
 The weeks passed, and bedtime wasn't any better. She seemed so restless, so insecure. Why? I wondered. Why this time of day more than the other hours?
 Then one night as I walked into her room, only to find the same wide-awake Kate, I said impulsively, “Kate, could it be you miss your good-night kiss?” Bend ing down,
I kissed her wrinkled cheek.
 It was as though I had opened the floodgates. Tears ran down her face; her hands gripped mine. “Chris always kissed me good-night,” she cried.
 “I know,” I whispered.
 “ I miss him so, all those years he kissed me good-night.” She paused while I wiped the tears. “ I just can't seem to go to sleep without his kiss.”
 She looked up at me, her eyes full of tears. “Oh, thank you for giving me a kiss.”
 A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You know,” she said confidentially, “Chris used to sing me a song.”
 “He did?”
 “Yes,”—her white head nodded—“and I lie here at night and think about it.”
 “How did it go?”
 Kate smiled, held my hand and cleared her throat. Then her voice, small with age but still melodious, lifted softly in song: So kiss me, my sweet, and so let us part. And when I grow too old to dream, That kiss will live in my heart.
20 对于凯特来说，晚间睡觉是最难熬的时候。虽然已允许她从自己的床上搬到克里斯的床上，虽然工作人员一边为她掖好被子，一边与她聊天说笑，凯特却仍然沉默，仍然落落寡欢。她盖上被子躺下后一个小时，我经过她的房间，总会发现她还没睡，凝视着天花板。21 几周过去了，她晚上依然不能成眠。看起来很焦躁，很不安。为什么？我想着。为什么晚上比其他时间更难过呢？
Benefits from Pets
 Recently, a number of U.S. newspapers carried a very small article entitled “Things You Can Learn from Your Dog”. The article listed seven things done regularly by pet dogs which could be helpful to pet owners if they themselves did them. These things are: 1) When your loved one comes home, run to greet him. 2) Eat with pleasure. 3) When it's hot, drink lots of water. 4) Take naps. 5) Don't bite, just growl. 6) When you want something badly, dig for it. 7) Give unconditional love.
 There are many people who would like to insist that only human beings are capable of feeling the emotion of love. However, there are many more people, usually pet owners, who feel that they not only love their pets, but that their pets love them in return. This is only one, but a very important, benefit of owning a pet. All of us want to enjoy good health. Thousands of articles are written in newspapers and magazines giving advice of all types as to what people should be doing if they wish to improve their chances of having good health. Most often this advice includes suggestions that we should eat right, exercise, take vitamins and get a pet. Why get a pet? Because more and more studies are showing that people who have pets are healthier, both physically and mentally, than those who don't. Right now more than half of the households in the United States have a companion animal. That includes 51 million dogs, 56 million cats, 45 million birds, and other small animals.
 Besides the obvious things, like being cute, interesting to watch, and a lot of fun, pets do more for us than we often realize. If you now have or have ever had a pet, you know how wonderful it is to have someone there for you, no matter how you look, how you are dressed, or what you are doing. Pets love you unconditionally and don't require brilliant conversation. A simple “good boy” and a pat on the h ead or scratch under the chin is enough for them. They will find ways to let you know their appreciation of your praise, whether it is by wagging their tails, rubbing against you, purring, or simply looking at you with adoring eyes.
 People who own pets often remark on what good company they are and what fun they have together. Pet experts and researchers identify many other additional benefits that come with pet ownership or interaction. In addition to those mentioned thus far, pets ease stress and anxiety, aid relaxation, provide a sense of security, and are a great diversion from troubles. One medical study showed that people's blood pressure would
fall when they stroked their pets.
 Pets are increasingly being used in therapy for the elderly and those who have Alzheimer's disease or physical disabilities. One lady in Tucson, Arizona, shares her lovely little dog with many elderly nursing home residents. She takes her dog there at least once or twice a week and allows the elderly people to hold and pat her little dog. They eagerly await its arrival and always ask when she and her dog will be back. She is just one of hundreds of people who share their pets with the old and lonely. And then, of course, there are countless stories of dogs trained to aid blind, deaf, or wheel-chair bound individuals, often allowing them to live independently when otherwise this would not be possible. The love between these people and their four-footed friends is touching. Even brushing or patting a dog is great physical therapy, and we all know the benefits of walking, which is something a dog needs too.
 James Herriot, a country veterinarian in England , has been a very popular writer in the English-speaking world. He has written a number of books and stories about pet owners and their pets. Many of his stories tell of the love between them as well as the benefits that owners and pets derive from each other. Part of his great popularity as a writer comes from the fact that people who love pets like to read about and identify with other pet lovers.