Life is a do-it-yourself project
The Best Time Of My Life一生中最美好的时光
It was June 15, and in two days I would be turning thirty. I was insecure about entering a new decade of my life and feared that my best years were now behind me.
My daily routine included going to the gym for a workout before going to work. Every morning I would see my friend Nicholas at the gym. He was seventy-nine years old and in terrific shape. As I greeted Nicholas on this particular day, he noticed I wasn't full of my usual vitality and asked if there was anything wrong. I told him I was feeling anxious about turning thirty. I wondered how I would look back on my life once I reached Nicholas's age, so I asked him, "What was the best time of your life?"
Without hesitation, Nicholas replied, "Well, Joe, this is my philosophical answer to your philosophical question."
"When I was a child in Austria and everything was taken care of for me and I was nurtured by my parents that were the best time of my life.
“When I was going to school and learning the things I know today, that was the best time of my life.
“When I got my first job and had responsibilities and got paid for my effort that was the best time of my life.
“When I met my wife and fell in love, that was the best time of my life.
“The Second World War came, and my wife and I had to flee Austria to save our lives. When we were together and safe on a ship bound for North America that was the best time of my life.
“When we came to Canada and started a family, that was the best time of my life.
“When I was a young father, watching my children grow up, that was the best time of my life.
“And now, Joe, I am seventy-nine years old. I have my health, I feel good and I am in love with my wife just as I was when we first met. This is the best time of my life."
那天是6月15日，再过两天我就要30岁了。要进入生命中又一个新的十年，我对此感到忐忑不安，担心自己最美好的岁月已经离我远去了。
我每日上班前都去体育馆锻炼一阵。每天早上我都会在体育馆见到我的朋友尼古拉斯。他79岁，身材棒极了。那天我跟他打招呼时，他注意到我不像往常那样充满活力，便问我有什么不对劲。我告诉他自己就要30岁了，心里很担忧。不知道我要是到了尼古拉斯的岁数会怎么回顾自己的一生，于是我问他：“你一生中最美好的时光是在什么时候？”
尼古拉斯毫不迟疑地答道：“好吧，乔，以下就是我对于你那富有哲理的问题所作出的富有哲理的回答。
“小时候我在奥地利，一切都被照顾得好好的，我在父母的抚育下成长，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“上学的时候我学着至今都不忘记的知识，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“当我找到第一份工作，承担了工作中的职责并且为自己的努力获得报酬时，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“当我遇到我的妻子并坠入爱河时，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“二次大战来临，妻子和我为活命不得不逃离奥地利。当我们一起安安全全地坐上驶往北美洲的轮船时，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“当我们来到加拿大建立了家庭时，那是一生中最美好的时光。
“当我成了一位年轻的父亲，看着自己的孩子一点点地长大时，那是我一生中最美好的时光。
“而现在，乔，我79岁了。我身体健康，感觉很好，而且还和初次相遇时一样爱我的妻子。这是我一生中最美好的时光。”
A Place To Stand一个人的空间
If you have ever gone through a toll booth, you know that your relationship to the person in the booth is not the most intimate you’ll ever have. It is one of life’s frequent non-encounters: You hand over some money; you might get change; you drive off. I have been through every one of the 17 tollbooths on the Oakland-San Francisco Bay Bridge on thousands of occasions, and never had an exchange worth remembering with anybody.
Late one morning in 1984, headed for lunch in San Francisco, I drove toward one of the booths. I heard loud music. It sounded like a party, or a Michael Jackson concert. I looked around. No other cars with their windows open. No sound trucks. I looked at the tollbooth. Inside it, the man was dancing.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m having a party,” he said.
“What about the rest of these people?” I looked over at other booths; nothing moving there.
“They’re not invited.”
I had a dozen other questions for him, but somebody in a big hurry to get somewhere started punching his horn behind me and I drove off. But I made a note to myself: Find this guy again. There’s something in his eye that says there’s magic in his toll booth.
Months later I did find him again, still with the loud music, still having a party.
Again I asked, “What are you doing?”
He said, “I remember you from the last time. I’m still dancing. I’m having the same party.”
I said, “Look. What about the rest of the people”
He said. “Stop. What do those look like to you?” He pointed down the row of toll booths.
“They look like tool booths.”
“Nooooo imagination！’
I said, “Okay, I give up. What do they look like to you?”
He said, “Vertical coffins.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can prove it. At 8:30 every morning, live people get in. Then they die for eight hours. At 4:30, like Lazarus from the dead, they reemerge and go home. For eight hours, brain is on hold, dead on the job. Going through the motions.”
I was amazed. This guy had developed a philosophy, a mythology about his job. I could not help asking the next question: “Why is it different for you? You’re having a good time.”
He looked at me. “I knew you were going to ask that, “ he said. “I’m going to be a dancer someday.” He pointed to the administration building. “My bosses are in there, and they’re paying for my training.”
Sixteen people dead on the job, and the seventeenth, in precisely the same situation, figures out a way to live. That man was having a party where you and I would probably not last three days. The boredom！ He and I did have lunch later, and he said, “I don’t understand why anybody would think my job is boring. I have a corner office, glass on all sides. I can see the Golden Gate, San Francisco, the Berkeley hills; half the Western world vacations here and I just stroll in every day and practice dancing.”
如果你仔细观察一个收费亭，你就会知道你与亭子里的这个人关系不是最亲密的，这是生命中常常出现的非偶遇者。你递给他一些钱，或许他还要找你些零钱，然后你开车走了。我仔细观察过17家收费亭，并在旧金山奥克兰海湾大桥千百次路过，却没有一次找钱值得我记起某个人。
