After Mom died,I began visiting Dad every morning before I went to work.He was frail and moved slowly,but he always had a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on the kitchen table for me,along with an unsigned note reading,“Drink your juice.”Such a gesture,I knew,was as far as Dad had ever been able to go in expressing his love.In fact,I remember,as a kid I had questioned Mom“Why doesn't Dad love me!”Mom frowned.“Who said he doesn't love you!”“Well,he never tells me,”I complained.“He never tells me either,”she said,smiling.“But look how hard he works to take care of us,to buy us food and clothes,and to pay for this house.That's how your father tells us he loves us.”Then Mom held me by the shoulders and asked,“Do you understand!”

　　我妈去世之后，我开始在每天上班之前都去探望一下我爸。他身体虚弱，行走缓慢，但是，他总是为我亲手榨好一杯新鲜桔子汁放在厨房桌子上，旁边有一张不签名的纸条，上边写着：“把桔子汁喝了。”我明白，这是他表达他对我的爱所能采取的方式。事实上，至今我还记得，在我孩子时代我问过我妈：“为什么我爸不爱我?”对此，我妈皱起了眉头。“谁说他不爱你?”“可是，他从来没告诉过我。”我抱怨道。“他从来也没告诉过我，”她说，脸上露出笑容，“不过，你看他为了养活我们，给我们买吃的、穿的，缴纳房款，干活多拼命呀。这就是你爸表达他爱我们的方式。”然后，我妈抓着我的肩膀问道：“你明白吗?”

　　I nodded slowly.I understood in my head,but not in my heart.I still wanted my father to put his arms around me and tell me he loved me.Dad owned and operated a small scrap.metall business,and after school I often hung around while he worked.I always hoped he'd ask me to help and then praise me for what I did.He never asked.His tasks were too dangerous for a young boy to attempt,and Mom was already worried enough that he'd hurt himself.Dad hand fed scrap steel into a device that chopped it as cleanly as a butcher chops a rack of ribs.The machine looked like a giant pair of scissors,with blades thicker than my father's body.If he didn't feed those terrifying blades just right,he risked serious injury.

　　我慢慢地点了点头。我脑子明白，可心里还是不明白。我仍然想要我爸拥抱我，告诉我他爱我。爸爸拥有并经营一家小的废金属处理厂。放学后，在他工作时，我经常在他身边玩耍。我总希望他会叫我帮忙，然后夸我干的活，可是，他从来不叫我。因为让一个小男孩去干他干的活实在太危险，我妈为我爸的安全已经够担心的了。我爸用手把废金属塞进一个装置，这个装置像屠夫剁肋骨那样，利索地切割金属。这台机器看上去像一把硕大无比的剪刀，其刀片比我爸的身躯还要厚。伺候这台令人恐怖的机器是极其危险的，稍有不慎就会导致重伤。

　　“Why don't you hire someone to do that for you!”Mom asked Dad one night as she bent over him and rubbed his aching shoulders with a strong smelling liniment.“Why don't you hire a cook!”Dad asked,giving her one of his rare smiles.Mom straig htened and put her hands on her hips.“What's the matter,Ike!Don't you like my cooking!”“Sure I like your cooking But if I could afford a helper,then you could afford a cook”Dad laughed,and for the first time I realized that my father had a sense of humor.The chopping machine wasn't the only hazard in his business.He had an acetylene torch for cutting thick steel plates and beams.To my ears the torch hissed louder than a steam locomotive,and when he used it to cut through steel,it blew off thousands of tiny pieces of molten metal that swarmed around him like angry fireflies.

　　“你干吗不雇一个人来替你干那个活?”一天晚上我妈为我爸涂气味很浓的搽剂，俯身为他按摩酸痛的肩膀时问道。“你干吗不雇一名厨师?”我爸反问道，并对我妈难得地笑了一下。我妈直起身子，双手叉在腰上：“埃克，你怎么啦?难道你不喜欢我做的菜?”“我当然喜欢你做的饭菜啦!可是，如果我雇得起帮手，那你就雇得起厨师!”我爸大笑起来，这是我生平第一次感到我爸其实是个幽默感的人。不过，那台切割机不是他厂子里惟一的危险物，他还有一台乙炔炬，用来切割厚钢板和粗钢条。在我听来，那乙炔炬发出的切割声比蒸汽机火车头发出的声音还要大。当我爸用它切割钢材时，无数熔化了的金属的粉末状液滴喷射出来，在他周围飞溅，就像一群愤怒的萤火虫。