英语美文：Sound Of Home 乡音（祝美语坛的网友们中秋快乐）

林贝卡 · 2010-09-20 17:18:08Z

英语美文：Sound Of Home 乡音（祝美语坛的网友们中秋快乐）简介

来源: 林贝卡于 2010-09-20 17:18:08 [档案] [博客] [旧帖] [给我悄悄话] 阅读数 : (10959 bytes)

Sound of Home
Author: Unknown

The weather had been unusually warm for May in Brandon, Mississippi. My wife Pat and I were drinking a Sunday morning cup of coffee on our deck and watching thunderheads build rapidly into mountainous clouds on the southern horizon. There was barely any breeze, and the humidity was so thick you could almost roll it in your palms.

By the time we finished our second cup, the sky had turned black. Lightning danced across the horizon, accompanied by low, rumbling thunder. Only seconds after the first drops of rain had driven us inside, the phone rang. When Pat picked up the receiver, her face became the only bright spot in that gloomy day.

It was our son, David, an Army helicopter pilot. Three months earlier, he had earned his silver wings and begun a one-year assignment in South Korea, stationed near the demilitarized zone.

David made a valiant effort to sound cheerful, but we knew better from the tone of his voice. As a man who spent time during World War II on a minuscule South Pacific island, I recognized the symptoms of acute homesickness.

Gradually, the curative powers of conversation made us all feel better, until a booming clap of thunder shook the windows only inches from the phones Pat and I were using.

"What was that?" David asked, "It sounded like an explosion."

"Just thunder," Pat said, "It's been raining here all week."

There were several seconds of silence. "David," I asked, "are you still there?"

"I was thinking about what Mother said -'Just thunder.' Other than the two of you, do you know what I miss most of all -what many of the men say they miss? Thunder. We have rain, wind, snow and some violent storms, but it never thunders.

"Remember, Dad, when I was a boy?" he continued. "How the two of us would stretch out on the floor and listen to the thunder? How you'd laugh to keep me from being afraid?" "I remember," I said, trying to ignore the lump in my throat.

"I wish I were there now to listen with you," he said softly.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I got my tape recorder, my large umbrella and a wooden chair. "I'm going to record our son some thunder," I told Pat. "Bob, the neighbors will think you're crazy."

"David won't," I said, and went outside.

With lightning flickering across the sky like a fireworks display, I sat in the driving rain beneath my umbrella and recorded half an hour of the finest Mississippi thunder a lonesome man could ever want to hear. The next day I mailed the tape to David with a single line: "A special gift."

Three weeks later David called again. This time he was his old self. "Dad," he said, "you won't believe what I did last night. I invited some friends over to my quarters for a thunder party. When we heard the tape, we all reacted the same way. Instant silence, followed by a few minutes of sadness. But once we realized we were listening to the sounds of home, we felt better and enjoyed a great party, like we'd been relieved of a heavy burden. I can't tell you how much that tape meant to me," he continued. "I can make it now. Thanks, Dad! It really was a special gift."

It also became a special gift for Pat and me. For the next eight months, while David was in Korea, we found ourselves looking forward to thunderstorms. Rather than feeling depressed on gloomy days, we came to regard the storms as special. Each rumble seemed to tie us closer to a son so far from home.

And even though it thunders in Minnesota, where David is now instructing Army aviators, the gift of thunder has become a tradition for us. It lets us know that no matter where in the world we may be, we're linked together as a family.

美文：乡音
作者：佚名翻译：佚名

在密西西比州的布兰登，五月的天气异常闷热。礼拜天的早上，我和妻子帕特坐在露天平台上，一边悠闲地品着咖啡，一边看着南边地平线上正迅速堆积成云山的雷雨云砧。没有一丝风，空气潮湿得几乎可以把它放在掌心滚搓。

喝完第二杯咖啡时，天开始黑起来。闪电划过天边，伴着低沉的隆隆雷声。雨下了起来，我们只好回到屋里。刚进屋，电话铃响了。帕特拿起话筒，她灿烂的笑脸成了阴沉天气里惟一的亮点。

电话是我们的儿子大卫打来的，他是一名军用直升机驾驶员。三个月前他获得了银色空军飞行胸章，随后被派往韩国，驻扎在非军事区附近，为期一年。

大卫拼命想显得很快活，但从他的声音，我们听出可不是这么回事。作为一个二战期间曾在南太平洋小岛上服过役的老兵，我听得出他非常想家。

谈话就像一剂良药，渐渐地，我们都觉得好受些了。突然，一声霹雳把电话机近旁的窗户震得哗哗作响。

“什么声音？”大卫问，“像是爆炸声。”

“是雷声，”帕特说，“咱们这儿一礼拜都在下雨。”

那边一阵沉默。“大卫，”我问道，“你在那儿听吗？”

“我在想妈妈刚才说的话——‘是雷声’。除了您和妈妈，你知道我最想念什么？——这儿的许多军人最想念什么吗？雷声。这里有雨、风、雪，有时还有猛烈的暴风雨，可就是从不打雷。”

“还记得我小时候的事吗，爸爸？咱俩摊开手脚、躺在地板上听雷声？为了不让我害怕，你还会哈哈大笑。”他接着说。

“记得，”我说，尽量克制住嗓子里的哽咽。

“我多么希望现在能和你们一起听雷声啊。”他轻轻地说。

一挂上电话，我就拿起录音机、一把大伞和一张木椅，对帕特说，“我去给儿子录些雷声。”

“鲍勃，邻居们会觉得你疯了。”

“大卫不会。”我边说边向外走去。

闪电像烟花一样在天际忽隐忽现。倾盆大雨中，我坐在伞下，把寂寞的人最想听的最动听的密西西比雷声录了下来，整整半个小时。第二天，我把磁带寄给了大卫，上面只写着一行字：“特别的礼物”。

三个星期后，大卫又打来电话。这次他恢复到了从前的样子。他说：“爸爸，你肯定没法相信，我昨天晚上做了什么。我请了一些战友到我的营房，举行了一个雷声晚会。听到磁带后我们的反应都一样，大家一下子安静了下来，接着难过了一阵子。但当我们意识到这是来自家乡的声音时，就好受多了。这场晚会棒极了，我们好像从重负下解脱出来一样。你不知道，这盘磁带对我有多重要。”他接着说。“我现在挺过来了，谢谢你，爸爸！这真是件特别的礼物。”

对我和帕特而言，这同样也是件特别的礼物。大卫在韩国剩下的8个月里，我们发现自己总是盼望着雷暴的出现。在那些阴沉的日子里，我们不再感到压抑沮丧，而是把暴风雨视作一件有特殊意义的东西。每一阵隆隆的雷声都似乎把我们和远在他乡的儿子拉近了一些。

大卫现在已经在明尼苏达州担任军队飞行教练。虽然那里也有雷声，但是把家乡的雷声作为礼物寄给他，已成了我们的传统。它让我们明白，无论身处何方，我们永远是心身相系的一家人。

林贝卡 2010年8月22日夏于美国