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(ài)的爸爸：

　　今天我在商場(chǎng)的時(shí)候，我讀了好長(zhǎng)時(shí)間的有關(guān)“父親節(jié)”的賀卡。那些卡片上面的文字很特別，也或多或少地表達(dá)出了我對(duì)您的感受。我挑選讀過(guò)一次后，又挑選讀了一遍，但那并不是一張賀卡所能表達(dá)出我想對(duì)您說(shuō)的話(huà)的。

　　爸爸，很快您就要84歲了，您和我也將度過(guò)這第55個(gè)“父親節(jié)”。“父親節(jié)”的那天，我總是不能和您在一起，連您過(guò)生日的時(shí)候我也是這樣，但這并不是因?yàn)槲也幌肱阍谀磉叀Ｆ鋵?shí)，在我心里，我總是和您在一起。不過(guò)，有的時(shí)候，生活也會(huì)有差錯(cuò)。

　　爸爸，您也知道，我們父女倆曾有一段時(shí)間因?yàn)榇鷾喜辉谝黄疬^(guò)，比如年齡、個(gè)人閱歷、觀點(diǎn)、發(fā)型、化妝、服裝、音樂(lè)、作息時(shí)間以及男朋友，因?yàn)檫@些，我們的觀點(diǎn)也非常對(duì)立。您站在“大分離”的一端，我站在“大分離”的另一端。

　　那時(shí)，您教我學(xué)開(kāi)那部道奇舊車(chē)，可我卻不管您喜歡不喜歡執(zhí)意要開(kāi)雪拂蘭’54那輛車(chē)。當(dāng)時(shí)，我們父女倆關(guān)于雪拂蘭汽車(chē)的爭(zhēng)執(zhí)也調(diào)到了最高擋。可那天晚上，您卻報(bào)警說(shuō)雪拂蘭車(chē)被盜。之后，一個(gè)警官把我護(hù)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(zhēng)，可他也不小了，對(duì)一個(gè)16歲的流鼻涕的小孩卻沒(méi)有太多的耐心。爸爸，您倒對(duì)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(gè)夜晚吧。

　　在我嫁了一個(gè)您喜歡的女婿后，我們倆之間的關(guān)系才緩和了好多。后來(lái)，我們?yōu)榱撕煤玫厣鷤€(gè)孩子，就離開(kāi)了，我們之間的那些事情也就結(jié)束了。這事您也知道，我們沒(méi)有電視機(jī)看，我們就只好自?shī)首詷?lè)了。我不知道我還能對(duì)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(huì)找到答案。過(guò)去那些孩子熱愛(ài)您，現(xiàn)在他們還像以前那樣熱愛(ài)您。當(dāng)我看見(jiàn)您和您的外孫在一起的時(shí)候，我知道您都已經(jīng)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(xiàn)在年齡和其它一些問(wèn)題的差異把您和我分開(kāi)，可我們?cè)诤芏嗍虑榈纳系目捶ǘ际且粯拥模@可能是因?yàn)槲覀兠靼琢藳](méi)有那么多的事情值得我們爭(zhēng)辯吧。然而，我想提示一下的是，爸爸，飛蠅釣魚(yú)是您最喜歡的一種釣法，您可以說(shuō)些您想做的手腕動(dòng)作，站姿和一些沒(méi)有用的話(huà)什么的。