To My Father 給我的父親

　　Dear Dad,

　　Today I was at the shopping mall and I spent a lot of time reading the Father's Day cards. They all had a special message that in some way or another reflected how I feel about you. Yet as I selected and read, and selected and read again, it occurred to me that not a single card said what I really want to say to you.

　　You'll soon be 84 years old, Dad, and you and I will have had 55 Father's Days together. I haven't always been with you on Father's Day nor have I been with you for all of your birthdays. It wasn't because I didn't want to be with you. I've always been with you in my heart but sometimes life gets in the way.

　　You know, Dad, there was a time when we were not only separated by the generation gap but completely polarized by it. You stood on one side of the Great Divide and I on the other, father and daughter split apart by age and experience, opinions, hairstyles, cosmetics, clothing, curfews, music, and boys.

　　The Father-Daughter Duel of '54 shifted into high gear when you taught me to drive the old Dodge and I decided I would drive the ‘54 Chevy whether you liked it or not. The police officer who escorted me home after you reported the Chevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand father-daughter politics and too old to have much tolerance for a snotty 16 year old. You were so decent about it, Dad, and I think that was probably what made it the worst night of my life.

　　Our relationship improved immensely when I married a man you liked, and things really turned around when we begin making babies right and left. We didn't have a television set, you know, and we had to entertain ourselves somehow. I didn't know what to expect of you and Mom as grandparents but I didn't have to wait long to find out. Those babies adored you then just as they adore you now. When I see you with all your grandchildren, I know you've given them the finest gift a grandparent can give. You've given them yourself.

　　Somewhere along the line, the generation gap evaporated. Age separates us now and little else. We agree on most everything, perhaps because we've learned there isn't much worth disagreeing about. However, I would like to mention that fly fishing isn't all you've cracked it up to be, Dad. You can say what you want about wrist action and stance and blah, blah, blah...

　　I've been happily drifting for a lot of years, Dad, and I didn't see you getting older.

　　I suppose I saw us and our relationship as aging together, rather like a fine wine. Numbers never seemed important. But the oddest thing happened last week. I was at a stop sign and I watched as you turned the corner in your car. It didn't immediately occur to me that it was you because the man driving looked so elderly and fragile behind the wheel of that huge car. It was rather like a slap in the face delivered from out of nowhere. Perhaps I saw your age for the first time that day. Or maybe I saw my own.

　　Fifty years ago this spring we planted kohlrabi together in a garden in Charles City, Iowa.

　　I didn't know then that I would remember that day for the rest of my life. This week, we'll plant kohlrabi together again, perhaps for the last time but I hope not. I don't understand why planting kohlrabi with you is so important to me but it is. And the funny thing about it is, well, I don't know quite how to tell you this, Dad...I don't even like kohlrabi...but I like planting it with you.

　　I guess what I'm trying to say, Dad, is what every son and daughter wants to say to their Dad today. Honoring a Father on Father's Day is about more than a Dad who brings home a paycheck, shares a dinner table, and attends school functions, graduations, and weddings. It isn't even so much about kohlrabi, '54 Chevrolets, and fly-fishing. It's more about unconditionally loving children who are snotty and stubborn, who know everything and won't listen to anyone. It's about respect and sharing and acceptance and tolerance and giving and taking. It's about loving someone more than words can say，and it's wishing that it never had to end.

　　I love you, Dad.

　　中文：

　　親愛的爸爸：

　　今天我在商場的時候，我讀了好長時間的有關“父親節”的賀卡。那些卡片上面的文字很特別，也或多或少地表達出了我對您的感受。我挑選讀過一次后，又挑選讀了一遍，但那并不是一張賀卡所能表達出我想對您說的話的。

　　爸爸，很快您就要84歲了，您和我也將度過這第55個“父親節”。“父親節”的那天，我總是不能和您在一起，連您過生日的時候我也是這樣，但這并不是因為我不想陪在您身邊。其實，在我心里，我總是和您在一起。不過，有的時候，生活也會有差錯。

　　爸爸，您也知道，我們父女倆曾有一段時間因為代溝不在一起過，比如年齡、個人閱歷、觀點、發型、化妝、服裝、音樂、作息時間以及男朋友，因為這些，我們的觀點也非常對立。您站在“大分離”的一端，我站在“大分離”的另一端。

　　那時，您教我學開那部道奇舊車，可我卻不管您喜歡不喜歡執意要開雪拂蘭’54那輛車。當時，我們父女倆關于雪拂蘭汽車的爭執也調到了最高擋。可那天晚上，您卻報警說雪拂蘭車被盜。之后，一個警官把我護送到家，可他太年輕了，根本不明白我們父女倆之間的政治斗爭，可他也不小了，對一個16歲的流鼻涕的小孩卻沒有太多的耐心。爸爸，您倒對這件事處理得很體面，而我想那可能是我一生中最糟糕的一個夜晚吧。

　　在我嫁了一個您喜歡的女婿后，我們倆之間的關系才緩和了好多。后來，我們為了好好地生個孩子，就離開了，我們之間的那些事情也就結束了。這事您也知道，我們沒有電視機看，我們就只好自娛自樂了。我不知道我還能對作為外公外婆的您和媽媽抱什么期望，但是，不要等到很久我就會找到答案。過去那些孩子熱愛您，現在他們還像以前那樣熱愛您。當我看見您和您的外孫在一起的時候，我知道您都已經給了他們最好的禮物，您把心都掏給他們了。

　　就是這樣，您我之間的代溝慢慢消失了。現在年齡和其它一些問題的差異把您和我分開，可我們在很多事情的上的看法都是一樣的，這可能是因為我們明白了沒有那么多的事情值得我們爭辯吧。然而，我想提示一下的是，爸爸，飛蠅釣魚是您最喜歡的一種釣法，您可以說些您想做的手腕動作，站姿和一些沒有用的話什么的。