新视野英语教程3课文

Unit1_passage :My brother, Jimmy, did not get enough oxygen during a difficult delivery, leaving him with brain damage, and two years later I was born. Since then, my life revolved around my brother's. Accompanying my growing up was always "go out and play and take your brother with you". I couldn't go anywhere without him, so I urged the neighborhood kids to come to my house for some out-of-control kid-centered mother taught Jimmy practical things like how to brush his teeth or put on a belt. My father, a saint, simply held the house together with his patience and understanding. I was in charge outside where I administered justice by tracking down the parents of the kids who picked on my brother, and telling on father and Jimmy were inseparable. They ate breakfast together and on weekdays drove off to the navy shipping center every morning where they both worked—Jimmy unloaded color-coded boxes. At night after dinner, they would talk and play games late into the evening. They even whistled the same when my father died of a heart attack in 1991, Jimmy was a wreck, beneath his careful disguise. He was simply in disbelief. Usually very agreeable, he now quit speaking altogether and no amount of words could penetrate the vacant expression he wore on his face. I hired someone to live with him and drive him to work, but no matter how much I tried to make things stay the same, even Jimmy grasped that the world he'd known was gone. One day I asked, "You miss Dad, don't you?" His lips quivered and then he asked, "What do you think, Margaret? He was my best friend." Our tears began to mother died of lung cancer six months later and I alone was left to look after didn't adjust to going to work without my father right away, so he came and lived with me in New York City for a while. He went wherever I went and seemed to adjust pretty well. Still, Jimmy longed to live in my parents' house and work at his old job and I pledged to help him return. Eventually, I was able to work it out. He has lived there for 11 years now with many different caretakers and blossomed on his own. He has become essential to the neighborhood. When you have any mail to be picked up or your dog needs walking, he is your mother was right, of course: It was possible to have a home with room for both his limitations and my ambitions. In fact, caring for someone who loves as deeply and appreciates my efforts as much as Jimmy does has enriched my life more than anything else ever could hit home a few days after the September 11th disaster on Jimmy's 57th birthday. I had a party for him in my home in New York, but none of our family could join us because travel was difficult and they were still reckoning with the sheer terror the disaster had brought. I called on my faithful friends to help make it a merry and festive occasion, ignoring the fact that most of them were emotionally drained and exhausted. Instead of the customary "No gifts, please", I shouted, "Gifts! Please!"My friends—people Jimmy had come to know over the years—brought the ideal presents: country music CDs, a sweatshirt, one leather belt with "J-I-M-M-Y" on it, a knitted wool hat and a cowboy costume. The evening led up to the gifts and then the chocolate cake from his favorite bakery, and of course the ceremony wasn't complete without the thousand times Jimmy asked, "Is it time for the cake yet?" After dinner and the gifts Jimmy could no longer be restrained. He anxiously waited for the candles to be lit and then blew them out with one long breath as we all sang "Happy Birthday". Jimmy wasn't satisfied with our effort, though. He jumped up on the chair and stood erect pointing both index fingers into the air to conduct us and yelled, "One... more... time!" We sang with all of the energy left in our souls and when we were finished he put both his thumbs up and shouted, "That was super!"We had wanted to let him know that no matter how difficult things got in the world, there would always be people who cared about him. We ended up reminding ourselves instead. For Jimmy, the love with which we sang was a welcome bonus, but mostly he had just wanted to see everyone else happy as my father's death had changed Jimmy's world overnight, September 11th changed our lives; the world we'd known was gone. But, as we sang for Jimmy and held each other tight afterward praying for peace around the world, we were reminded that the constant love and support of our friends and family would get us through whatever life might present. The simplicity with which Jimmy had reconciled everything for us should not have been surprising. There had never been any limitations to what Jimmy's love could accomplish来源

如今， 当我回首往事， 我很惊讶我居然能如此生动地回忆起轰炸开始的情况， 那天的色彩和紧张的情绪仍然清晰地印在我的脑海中。那天， 我突然发现在晴朗的天空中出现了12 个银色的小点儿， 离我很远， 发出不正常的嗡嗡声， 这种声音我以前从来没听过。那年我七岁，就这样站在一片草地上，盯着天空中几乎不怎么移动的小点儿。 突然，就在附近，森林的边缘，我听到有巨大的炸弹爆炸的声音。在我这个小孩的眼里，我看到的是泥土像巨大的喷泉一样冲到天上。我想跑过去看看这个特别的景象， 它让我感到害怕，但是也让我着迷。我还没有习惯战争，也不能把这些飞机、炸弹的轰鸣、森林那边飞溅开来的泥土以及我看似必然的死亡联系成单一的因果关系。没考虑有危险， 我开始朝着投下炸弹的森林方向跑。这时一只手拉住了我， 把我拽倒在地上。“趴下来， ”我听到母亲发抖的声音，“不要动!”我还记得母亲把我紧紧贴在她身边，说的一些东西我并不知道，也并不理解其含义：那是一条死路。  到了晚上，我很困，但是我不能睡。我们不得不撤离这座城市，像囚犯一样在夜间逃亡。到哪儿去，我不知道， 但是我知道逃跑突然变成了某种必须要做的事情， 一种新的生存方式，因为每个人都在逃跑。 所有公路、大路、甚至是乡间小路上都是混乱的马车、拉车、自行车，上面装着包裹和箱子，还有数不清的吓坏了的人，他们无助地游走着。一些人向东边跑，另一些人向西边、北边、南边跑；他们徒劳地跑着，实在累了就躺下来，睡一会儿，然后重新开始他们漫无目的的旅程。我紧紧地把妹妹的手握在手里。我母亲警告过， 我们不能走失； 但就算她没告诉我，我也能感觉到某种危险的灾难弥漫了整个世界。 我和妹妹在马车边走着。这是一辆简易马车， 车里铺着干草， 在干草上， 铺着一条棉布床单，我的祖父躺在上面。他不能动，已经瘫痪了；也是地雷的受害者。空袭一来时，所有人都冲到了壕沟里， 只有我祖父留在没人的马路上。他看着飞机向自己猛扑过来， 看着它们猛地俯冲瞄准，看着弹药喷出烈焰，听着轰鸣的引擎从他的头上飞过。当飞机消失后，我们回到马车边，母亲擦去祖父通红的脸上的汗水。有时，一天会有好几次空袭，每次空袭过后，汗水都会渗满我祖父疲惫的脸。 我们正在踏入一个越来越可怕的场景。地平线上浓烟滚滚， 战火在慢慢熄灭。我们经过了废弃的村庄和孤零零的被烧毁的房屋。我们经过了战场， 这里到处都是垃圾， 有丢弃的武器装备、被炸毁的火车站、翻倒的车辆。空气中都是火药味和大屠杀后尸体烧焦和腐烂的味道。到处都是马的死尸，在人类战争中它们是孱弱无力的。  当冬季来临的时候，我们停了下来，不再逃避轰炸，这样我们就可以躲过恶劣的天气了。对正常情况下的人们来说， 冬天只不过是另一个季节。但对于战时的穷人来说， 冬天是一个灾难，一个无处不在、持续不断的威胁。我们在贫民窟里找了套房子，勉强在风雪中栖身，但我们生不起火； 我们既买不起燃料， 也不敢冒险去偷。偷盗燃煤和木料是要处死的——人的生命在此时一文不值。 我们什么吃的也没有。我母亲在窗边愁闷着， 一站就是几个小时， 我能看到她呆滞的眼神。我能看到很多人从窗口旁盯着下面的街道看， 好像在等待着什么。我和一群流浪的孩子在后院来回跑着玩儿，这既是游戏，也是在寻找一点吃的东西。  有一天， 听说他们会在仓库附近的一家商店散发糖果， 我们这群饥寒交迫的孩子立即排了一条长队。我们在严寒中站了整整一夜以及第二天一整天， 挤在一起以获得一丝暖意。终于，商店开门了， 但发给我们每个人的却不是糖果， 而是一个装过水果糖的空金属罐子。我虚弱不堪、冻得僵硬，但此刻却很开心，我带着我的宝贝回到家，小心地呵护着。它很珍贵，因为它的内壁上还有糖渣。我母亲烧了些水，把水倒进去， 稀释成了甜甜的饮料：这是我们这些天唯一的营养。 我不太记得战争是何时结束的，如何结束的。我的记忆总是被拉回到第一天草地上的情形，那天，爆炸破坏了花丛的宁静，也打破了我童年的纯真时光。无论我如何努力，我还是不清楚当初到底我们做了什么，要让我们承受战争不可避免带来的所有这些伤害。