来源：沪江听写酷 2011-03-10 23:39
Sweet-Pea Summers Each summer in the late 1960s, my two sisters and I would ride the Greyhound bus from Arizona to Arkansas to stay with our father. A World WarⅡ veteran, Dad had many medical problems, any one of which could cause many people to lose more than their sense of humor, but not him. I have vivid memories of Dad waking us up in the morning. Before he'd put on his legs for the day (he had lost his legs after his discharge), his wheelchair was his mobility. Holding his cane, which was his extended arm, he would roll through the house yelling, "Up, up, up! Get up and face the day! It's a beautiful day! Rise and Shine!" If we didn't get up right away, he would repeat his song in rhythm with his cane hitting the end of our beds. This was no performance put on for our benefit; every day was truly a beautiful day to him. Back in the sixties, there was no handicapped parking or wheelchair-accessible ramps like there are now, so even a trip to the grocery store was a difficult task. Dad wanted no assistance from anyone. He would climb stairs slowly but surely, whistling all the way. As a teenager, I found this embarrassing, but if Dad noticed, he didn't let me help. Those summers always ended too soon. He would drive us back to Arizona every year, stopping at the checkpoint for fruit and vegetables at the New Mexico-Arizona border. When asked if he had any fruits or vegetables, he would reply,"Just three sweet peas." Our father has been gone for a long time now, but not the lesson that he taught us: You are only as handicapped as you let yourself be.
甜豌豆的夏天 二十世纪六十年代末的时候，每个夏天我和我的两个姐妹都会乘坐从亚里桑那州到阿肯色州的“灰狗”长途汽车，去和爸爸住一段时间。 爸爸是二战的退伍老兵，有很多的疾病。这些病中的任何一种都会让人失去幽默感，但是爸爸却没有。 我清晰地记得爸爸早上叫我们起床的情景。在他戴上假腿之前（在开炮的时候，他失去了双腿），轮椅就是他的移动工具。他拿着拐杖，那是他胳膊的延伸，在房间里走来走去，喊唱着：“起床了，起床了！新的一天开始了！今天真美好，快起来晒太阳吧！”如果我们不马上起床，他就会重复着他的歌，合着拐杖敲打我们床尾的节拍。这不是为我们而进行的表演，对于爸爸来说每一天真的都是美好的。 六十年代的时候，没有像现在这样的残疾人停车场或者是可以让轮椅通过的坡道，因此，即使是去杂货店也是件非常麻烦的事。爸爸不想接受任何人的帮助。他会自己慢慢地但是稳稳当当地爬上台阶，一路上发出吱吱的响声。那时我还是个小孩子，对这件事觉得有些尴尬。但是即使爸爸注意到我的尴尬，他也不会让我帮忙。 那些夏天总是很快就结束了。爸爸每年都会把我们送回亚里桑那州。我们会在新墨西哥州和亚里桑那州的交界处的水果和蔬菜检查站停下来接受检查。当被问到携带了什么水果和蔬菜的时候，他总会说：“只有三颗甜豌豆。” 爸爸现在已经离开我们多年了，但是他教给我们的道理依然留在我们心中：只有你把自己当成残疾人的时候，你才是残疾人。