Transcript Document

An Integrated English Course
Book 3
Unit Ten
Learning Objectives
• By the end of this unit, you are supposed to
• understand the main idea, structure of the
text and the author’s writing style
• master the key language points and
grammatical structures in the text
• consider the different love of the mother and
the father
Teaching Procedure
Pre-reading Questions
Text I. The Wonderful Lousy Poems
● Passage
● Structural analysis
● Main idea of the passage
● Language points
● sentence studies
● vocabulary studies
Text II. Dad
Pre-reading Questions
1. Have you ever tried to write a poem?
2. How different is your father from
your mother in their methods when
they try to give you proper education?
Text I. The Wonderful Lousy Poems
(abridged)
When I was eight or nine years old, I wrote my first poem.
At that time my father was a Hollywood tycoon, head of Paramount
Studios. My mother was a founder and prime mover in various
intellectual projects, helping to bring "culture" to the exuberant
Hollywood community, of the 1920s.
My mother read the little poem and began to cry. "Buddy, you didn't
really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!" Shyly, proud-bursting,
I stammered that I had. My mother poured out her welcome
praise. Why, this poem was nothing short of genius. She had no
idea that I had such talent for writing. I must write more poems,
keep on writing, perhaps someday even publish them.
I glowed. "What time will Father be home?" I asked. I could hardly
wait to show him what I had accomplished. My mother said she
hoped he would be home around 7. I spent the best part of that
afternoon preparing for his arrival.
First, I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish. Then I used
colored crayons to draw an elaborate border around it that
would do justice to its brilliant content. Then I waited. As 7
o'clock drew near, I confidently placed it right on my father's
plate on the dining-room table.
But my father did not return at 7. I rearranged the poem so it would
appear at a slightly more advantageous angle on his plate.
Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty. The suspense was exquisite. I
admired my father. He had begun his motion-picture career as a
writer. He would be able to appreciate this wonderful poem of
mine even more than my mother.
This evening it was almost 8 o'clock when my father burst in, and
his mood seemed thunderous. He was an hour late for dinner,
but he could not sit down. He circled the long dining-room table
with a Scotch highball in his hand, calling down terrible oaths on
his glamorous employees. I can see him now, a big Havana
cigar in one hand, the rapidly disappearing highball in the other,
crying out against the sad fates that had sentenced him to the
cruel job of running a teeming Hollywood studio.
"Imagine, we would have finished the picture tonight," my father
was shouting. "Instead that blank blank MORON, that blank
blank BLANK suddenly gets it into her beautiful but empty little
head that she can't play the last scene. So the whole company
has to stand there at $1,000 a minute while this silly little BLANK
walks off the set! Now I have to go down to her beach house
tonight and beg her to come back on Monday."
My father always paced determinedly as he ranted against the
studio greats, and now as he wheeled he paused and glared at
his plate. There was a suspenseful silence. He was reaching for
my poem. I lowered my head and stared down into my plate. I
was full of anxious daydreams. How wonderful it would be if this
very first work of mine drove away the angry clouds that now
darkened my important father's face!
"What is this?" I heard him say.
"Ben, Buddy has been waiting for you for hours," my mother said.
"A wonderful thing has happened. Buddy has written his first
poem. And it's beautiful, absolutely amaz-“
"If you don't mind, I'd like to decide that for myself," Father said.
Now was the moment of decision. I kept my face lowered to my
plate. It could not have taken very long to read that poem. It was
only 10 lines long. But it seemed to take hours. I remember
wondering why it was taking so long. I could hear him dropping
the poem back on the table again. I could not bear to look up for
the verdict. But in a moment I was to hear it.
"I think it's lousy," my father said.
I couldn't look up. I was ashamed of my eyes getting wet.
"Ben, sometimes I don't understand you," my mother was saying.
"This is just a little boy. You're not in your studio now. These are
the first lines of poetry he's ever written. He needs
encouragement."
"I don't know why," my father held his ground. "Isn't there enough
lousy poetry in the world already? I don't know any law that says
Buddy has to become a poet."
I forget what my mother said. I wasn't hearing so well because it is
hard to hear clearly when your head is making its own sounds of
crying. On my left, she was saying soothing things to me and
critical things of my father. But I clearly remember his selfdefense: "Look, I pay my best writers $2,000 a week. All
afternoon I've been tearing apart their stuff. I only pay Buddy 50
cents a week. And you're trying to tell me I don't have a right to
tear apart his stuff if I think it's lousy!“
That expressive vernacular adjective hit me over the heart like a
hard fist. I couldn't stand it another second. I ran from the dining
room bawling. I staggered up to my room and threw myself on
the bed and sobbed. When I had cried the worst of the
disappointment out of me, I could hear my parents still
quarreling over my first poem at the dinner table.
That may have been the end of the anecdote — but not of its
significance for me.
A few years later I took a second look at that first poem, and
reluctantly I had to agree with my father's harsh judgment. It was
a pretty lousy poem. After a while, I worked up the courage to
show him something new, a primitive short story written in what I
fancied to be the dark Russian manner. My father thought it was
overwritten but not hopeless. I was learning to rewrite. And my
mother was learning that she could criticize me without crushing
me. You might say we were all learning. I was going on 12.
But it wasn't until I was at work on my first novel, a dozen years
later, that the true meaning of that painful "first poem"
experience dawned on me. I had written a first chapter, but I
didn't think it was good enough. I wanted to do it over. My editor,
a wise hand who had counseled O'Neill and Sinclair Lewis and
William Faulkner, told me not to worry, to keep on going, the first
chapter was fine. Keep writing, just let it flow, it's wonderful, he
encouraged me. Only when it was all finished and I was in a
triumphant glow of achievement did he take me down a peg.
"That chapter may be a little weak at that. If I were you, I'd look
at it again." Now, on the crest of having written a novel, I could
absorb a sharp critical blow.
As I worked my way into other books and plays and films, it became
clearer and clearer to me how fortunate I had been to have had a
mother who said, "Buddy, did you really write this — I think it's
wonderful!" and a father who shook his head no and drove me to
tears with his, "I think it's lousy." A writer, in fact all of us in life,
needs that mother force, the loving force from which all creation
flows; and yet the mother force alone is incomplete, even misleading,
finally destructive, without the father force to caution, "Watch. Listen.
Review. Improves."
Those conflicting but complementary voices of my childhood echo
down through the years — wonderful, lousy, wonderful, lousy — like
two powerful, opposing winds buffeting me. I try to navigate my little
craft so as not to capsize before either. Between the two poles of
affirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true
course.
Structural analysis
The text can be divided into three
parts.
Part One: (Paragraphs 1-6)
This is the introductory part of the
text. Budd wrote his first poem which
is hightly praised by his mother and
was now expecting his father’s arrival
in excitement, for he was sure his
father would appreciate his wonderful
poem more than his mother.
Part Two: (Paragraphs 7-20)
In this part, Budd’s father came home,
and beyound his expectation, the
poem was denounced as “lousy”.
Part Three: (Para. 21-24):
In this last part, the author makes a
comparison between the father’s love
and the mother’s love. He learns that
although conflicting, they are
complementary and in fact, both of
them are indispensable to his growth.
Main Idea of the passage
The text is a story about the author’s past
experience. While narrating his past
experience, the author presents to the reader
a portrait of his father in work, and toward the
end of the text, he makes a comment of two
kinds of forces love.
Comprehension questions
1. How did his father respond to Budd’s first
poem?
His mother's response was positive and
affirmative. She poured out her welcome
praise and cried that she had not
expected that her son had such a talent
for poetry writing. She encouraged the
son to keep on writing.
2. Why did Budd look forward to his father’s
arrival?
His father was a Hollywood tycoon and
began his career as a writer. Budd
believed that his father would be able to
discover his talent and appreciate his
poem more than his mother did.
3. How did his father respond to the poem?
Quite beyond his expectation, his father at
first ignored his poem and then, when he
did notice it and read it, he dropped the
poem back and declared that it is "lousy,"
which hurt Budd severely.
4. which kind of love was importatn to Budd’s
growth, the mother’s love or the father’s
love?
Both were important to Budd's growth. The
mother's love was encouraging and
inspiring. She encouraged Budd to keep on
writing. The father's love was strict and
stern. His principle in the education of the
son was to "Watch. Listen. Review.
Improve." These two kinds of love were
indispensable in Budd's development. "I try
to navigate my little craft so as not to
capsize before either. " That is to say, both
his mother's affirmation and his fatehr’s
doubt were in the name of love, and Budd
followed the course between them.
Language points
exuberant
1) (of people and their behavior) overflowing
with life and cheerful excitement
His paintings were full of exuberant color.
2) (of plants) growing strongly and plentifully
The exuberant grouth fo a tropical rain
forest
glow
to give out heat and/or soft light without
flames or smoke
the iron bar was heated until it glowed.
(+with) to show redness and heat, esp. in
the face, e.g., after hard work or
because of strong feelings
She was glowing with health and
happiness.
She glowed with pride at her son’s
achievement.
elaborate: full of detail; carefully worked out
and with a large number of parts
She made elaborate preparations for the
party, and then no one came.
The curtains had an elaborate pattern of
flowers.
do justice to: to treat in a fair or proper
way; to geit the best result from
She cooked a delicious dinner, but we
couldn’t really do it justice because we’d
eaten too much already.
She didn’t do herself justice in the
exam.
circle
I) to move in a circle, especially in the air
(about / around / round) (over
somebody / something)
vultures circling (around) over a dead
animal
2) to move in or form a circle round
(somebody / something)
The plane circled the airport before
landing.
The moon circles the earth every 28
days.
oath
1) (words used in making) a solemn
promise to do something or solemn
declaration that something is true
(usually appealing to God, etc. as a
witness)
There is a standard form of oath used in
law courts.
2) casual and improper use of the name of
God, etc. to express anger, surpnse,
etc. ;
swear-word
glamorous: attractive, charming, exciting
glamorous film stars
glamor ~ attractive or exciting quality which
somebody / something has, and which seems
out of reach to others
hopeful young actors and actresses dazzled
by the glamor of Hollywood
Now that she's an air hostess, foreign travel
has lost its glamor for her.
sentence somebody (to something): to
state that somebody is to have a certain
punishment
He has been sentenced to three years
in prison.
(figurative) a crippling disease which
sentenced him to a lifetime in a
wheelchair
blank
I) without writing or print; unmarked a
blank sheet of paper; a blank page
2) without expression, understanding or
interest; empty
a blank expression / face / gaze
He looked blank. (= He is puzzled. )
Her questions drew blank looks all
around. ( = No one seemed to know
how to answer them. )
3) (attributive) total;absolute
a blank denial/refusal
rant:to speak loudly, violently or theatrically
He ranted (on) at me about my mistakes.
wheel
1) to push or pull (a vehicle with wheels)
wheel a barrow (along the street)
2) to move in a curve or circle
birds wheeling about in the sky above us
Left / Right
glare n.
1) strong unpleasant dazzling light avoid
the glare of the sun, of car headlights,
etc.
2) angry or fierce look; fixed look give
somebody a hostile
glare v.
1) to shine with a dazzling, unpleasant
light
The searchlight glared, illuminating the
prison yard.
2) to stare angrily or fiercely (at
somebody / something)
hold one's ground: to maintain one's claim,
intention, argument, etc. ; not to yield or
give way
The speaker calmly held his ground in the
face of angry opposition.
She held her ground in spite of all the
counter-arguments.
tear apart : to destroy or defeat something
completely; to criticize something harshly
ms
The civil war tore the country apart.
Will his absence tear the whole project
apart?
work up
1) to develop or improve something
gradually work up a business
2) to increase something in numbers or
strength working up the support for the
party
crush
1) to press or squeeze (somebody /
something) so hard that it breaks or is
damaged
Several people were crushed to death
by the faIling rocks.
2) to break something hard into small
pieces or into powder by pressing
Huge hammers crush (up) the rocks.
3) to defeat (somebody / something)
completely; to subdue
The rebeIlion was crushed by
government forces.
He felt completely crushed by her last
remark.
dawn on: to gradually become clear to one's
mind; to become evident to somebody
It finally dawned on me that he had been
lying.
The truth began to dawn on him.
counsel
1) to give professional advice to
(somebody with a problem)
a psychiatrist who counsels alcoholics
2) to give (the stated advice)
I would counsel caution in such a case.
3) to advise
He counseled them to give up the plan.
take/bring somebody down a peg : to make
(a proud or conceited person) more
humble
The arrogant film star needs/wants taking
down a peg or two.
on the crest of : at the point of great
success, happiness, etc.
After its election victory, the party was on
the crest of a wave.
echo
1) (of places) to send (something) back
The valley echoed back his song.
2) (figurative) (of people, places, etc. ) to
repeat something; to imitate; to recall
They echoed their leader's every word.
3) (of places) to repeat a sound (to / with
something)
The hills echoed to the sound of
laughter.
buffet: to knock or push somebody /
something roughly from side to side
flowers buffeted by the rain and wind
a boat buffeted (about) by the waves
navigate
1) to find the position and plot the
course of a ship, an aircraft, a car etc. ,
using maps and instruments
Which officer in the ship navigates?
2) to steer (a ship) ; to pilot (an aircraft)
navigate the tanker around the Cape
3) to sail along, over or through (a sea,
river, etc. )
Who first navigated the Atlantic?
capsize : to (cause a boat to) overturn or be
overturned
The boat capsized in heavy seas.
Huge waves can capsize the ship.
Text II. Dad
Andrew H. Malcolm
The first memory I have of him - of anything, really - is his strel was
in the late afternoon in a house under construction near ours.
The unfinished wood floor had large, terrifying holes whose
yawning darkness I knew led where good. His powerful hands,
then age 33, wrapped all the way around my tiny arms, then age
4, and easily swung me up to his shoulders to command all I
surveyed.
The relationship between a son and his father changes over time. It
may grow and flourish in mutual maturity. It may sour in
resented dependence or independence. With many children
living in single-parent homes today, it may not even exist.
But to a little boy right after World War II, a father seemed a god
with strange strengths and uncanny powers enabling him to do
and know things that no mortal could do or know. Amazing
things, like putting a
bicycle chain back on, just like that. Or building a hamsterl cage.
Or guiding a jigsaw so it formed the letter F; I learned the
alphabet that way in those pre-television days, one letter or
number every other evening plus a review of the collection. (The
vowel we painted red because they were special somehow. )
He even seemed to know what I thought before I did. "you look like
you could use a cheeseburger and chocolate shake, " he would
say on hot Sunday afternoons. When, at the age of 5, I broke a
neighbor's garage window with a wild curve bal1 and waited in
fear for 10 days to IIlake the :mnouncement, he seemed to know
about it already and to have been waiting for something.
There were, of course, rules to learn. First came the handshake.
None of those fishy little finger grips, but a good firm squeeze
accompanied by an equally strong gaze into the other's eyes.
"The first thing anyone knows about you is your handshake," he
would say. And we'd practice it each night on his return from
work, the serious toddler in the battered Cleveland Indians cap
running up to the giant father to shake hands again and again
until it was firm enough.
When my cat killed a bird, he defused the anger of a 9-year-old
with a little chat about something called "instinked. " The next
year, when my dog got run over and the weight of sorrow was
just too immense to stand, he was there, too, with his big arms
and his own tears and some thoughts on the natural order of life
and death, although what was natural about a speeding car that
didn't stop always escaped me.
As time passed, there were other rules to learn. "Always do your
best. " "Do it now." "NEVER LIE!" And most importantly, "You
can do whatever you have to do. " By my teens, he wasn't telling
me what to do anymore, which was scary and heady at the
same time. He provided perspective, not telling me what was
around the great comer of life but letting me know there was a
lot more than just today and the next, which I hadn't thought of.
When the most important girl in the world – I forget her name now –
turned down a movie date, he just happened to walk by the
kitchen phone. "This may be hard to believe right now," he said,
"but someday you won't even remember her name.”
One day, I realize now, there was a change. I wasn't trying to
please hirr much as I was trying to impress him. I never asked
him to come to my foot games. He had a high-pressure career,
and it meant driving through most of Fri night. But for all the big
games, when I looked over at the sideline, there was that
familiar fedora. And, by God, did the opposing team captain
ever get a firm ha shake and a gaze he would remember.
Then, a school fact contradicted something he said. Impossible
that he cc be wrong, but there it was in the book. These
accumulated over time, along with personal experiences, to
buttress my own developing sense of values. And I could tell we
had each taken our own, perfectly normal paths.
I began to see, too, his blind spot, his prejudices and his weakness.
I never threw these up at him. He hadn't to me, and, anyway, he
seemed to need pm tion. I stopped asking his advice; the
experiences he drew from no longer seer relevant to the
decisions I had to make. On the phone, he would go on about p
tics at times, why he would vote the way he did or why some
incumbent was a jerk. And I would roll my eyes to the ceiling
and smile a little, though I hid it in my voice.
He volunteered advice for a while. But then, in more recent years,
politics and issues gave way to talk of empty errands and,
always, to ailments friends', my mother's and his own, which
were serious and included heart disea He had a bedside oxygen
tank, and he would ostentatiously retire there during visits,
asking my help in easing his body onto the mattress. " You have
very strong arms," he once noted.
From his bed, he showed me the many sores and scars on his
misshapen body and all the bottles for medicine. He talked of
the pain and craved much sympathy. He got some. But the
scene was not attractive. He told me, as the doctor had. 1 his
condition would only deteriorate. "Sometimes," he confided, "I
would like to lie down and go to sleep and not wake up. "
After much thought and practice ("You can do whatever you have to
do.”), one night last winter, I sat down by his bed and
remembered for an instant th terrifying dark holes in another
house 35 years before. I told my father how much I loved him. I
described all the things people were doing for him. But, I said,
hekept eating poorly, hiding in his room and violating other
doctors' orders. No amount of love could make someone else
care about life, I said; it was a two-way street. He wasn't doing
his best. The decision was his.
He said he knew how hard my words had been to say and
how proud he was of me. "I had the best teacher," I said.
"You can do whatever you have to do. " He smiled a little.
And we shook hands, firmly, for the last time.
Several days later, at about 4 a. m. , my mother heard Dad
shuffling about their dark room. "I have something I have
to do," he said. He paid a bundle of bills. He composed
for my mother a long list of legal and financial what-todo's "in case of emergency. " And he wrote me a note.
Then he walked back to his bed and laid himself down. He
went to sleep, naturally. And he did not wake up.
1 ,189 words
Main idea of Text II
The author tells something between his
father and him. Through his discription, we
can see his father’s great influence on him
and the development and change of his
feelings towards his father. Also the
readers can feel the strong love and
attachment between the father and the
son.
Topics for discussion
1. Is it still important today for a man to display a firm
handshake and a steady gaze into someone’s eyes?
When would these gestures be most import?
These gestures seem not to be as important today as it
was in wartime. But anyway, we need a firm
handshake and a steady gaze under certain
occasions, for example, when we are in trouble aT
when we lack some kind of confidence. At this
moment, a handshake, a gaze or a few words of
encouragement will inspire us and urge us to
overcome difficulties and go forward. In the same
way, when other people are in trouble or meet some
obstacles, a firm handshake and a steady gaze
from us will also establish their courage and help
them pull through difficulties.
2. How do you feel about Malcoln’s father crying
with his son when the boy’s dog was killed?
A strong man as he was, Malcolm's father cried
when the boy's dog was killed. For one thing,
Malcolm's sorrow was too immense to stand.
In order to comfort him and help him get over
the sorrow, his father was there, with the son,
and with tears in his eyes. His father was not
as cool-blooded as what had been thought of.
He was a person full of feelings and
sympathies. For the other, his father thought
of the natural order of life and death. The
dog's unexpected death indiCates the
unpredictability of life and death.
3. As you grew up, when did you shift from trying to
please a parent to trying to impress that parent?
Children under ten years old will naturally please a
parent with their ignorance and naivety. They are
simple and artless, and often amuse their parents
with funny words or behaviors. By the teens, they
seldom want to please a parent with childish
behaviors, but want to tell the parents that they are
mature, not only physically but also mentally. They
feel that they have grown up, and that they can do
what parents can do. They want to impress their
parents with what they have done. They hope that
their parents will be proud of them. This question is
open for discussion. Different students may have
different responses to this question according to
their own experiences. Teachers can ask the
students to give specific examples to show that
they are trying to impress their parents.
4. How well can a person younger than forty
( Malcolm’s age ) understand the problems
involved in a parent’s afing and dying?
A person younger than forty may not have such a
deep but sober-minded understanding as
Malcolm has. Young people take it for granted
that their parents will look after them all their
lives, and will provide them with food, clothing
and shelter. They hardly think of the fact that
their parents will become old and one day one of
them will die. This question is open for
discussion.
Words and Expressions for Text I
lousy
a. (informal) very bad, unpleasant, useless; covered
with lice
tycoon
n. a businessman or industrialist with great wealth
and power
exuberant
a. (of people and their behavior) overflowing with life
and cheerful excitement; (of plants) growing strongly
and plentifully
proud-bursting
a. full of pride; with overflowing pride
stammer
v. to speak or say with pauses and repeated sounds,
either habitually or because of excitement, fear, etc.
glow
v. to give out heat and / or soft light without flames or
smoke; to show redness and heat, especially in the
face, e.g., after hard work or because of strong
feelings
flourish
n. a showy movement or manner that draws people's
attention to somebody
crayon
n. a stick of colored wax or chalk used for writing or
drawing, especially on paper
suspense
n. a state of uncertainty about something that is
undecided or not yet known, causing either anxiety or
sometimes pleasant excitement
exquisite
a. very finely made or done; extremely
beautiful or skillful; (of power to feel) sensitive
and delicate
highball
n. an alcoholic drink, especially whiskey or
brandy mixed with water or soda and served
with ice
oath
n. a solemn promise; an expression of strong
feeling using religious or sexual words
improperly
rant
v. (usually derogative) to talk in a loud,
uncontrolled way, using grand but
meaningless phrases
verdict
n. the official decision made by a jury in a
court of law at the end of a trial, especially
about whether the prisoner is guilty or not
guilty; (informal) a statement of opinion;
judgment or decision given on any matter
soothe
v. to make less angry, excited, or anxious; to
comfort or calm; to make less painful
vernacular
n. the language spoken in a country or region,
especially as compared with the official
language
bawl
v. to shout in a loud rough voice; to cry noisily
stagger
v. to walk or move unsteadily and with great
difficulty, almost falling
anecdote
n. a short interesting or amusing story about a
person or event
dawn
v. to begin to be perceived or understood
counsel
v. (formal) to advise as a suitable course of
action; to give advice and support (especially
somebody experiencing difficulty)
triumphant
a. victorious or successful; taking great pride
and joy in one's success or victory
peg
n. a short piece of wood, metal, etc., usually
thinner at one end than at the other, used for
fastening things, hanging things on, etc.
crest
n. a showy growth of feathers on top of a
bird's head; the top or highest point of
something, especially of a hill or a wave
buffet
v. to strike forcefully or repeatedly
navigate
v. to direct the course of (a ship, plane, etc.);
to go by sea, air, etc. from one side to the
other (of a place)
capsize
v. (especially of a boat) to turn over
Notes for Text I
1. About the author and the text : Budd
Schulberg (1914 - ), American novelist,
short story writer, screen writer, and
contributor to major national magazines,
is the author of What Makes Sammy
Run (1941) , The Disenchanted (1950) ,
and On the Waterfront (1954). The son
of "a Hollywood tycoon," Schulberg
invests the above auto-biographical
account with the drama of film
community life in the 1920s, even as he
finds in a childhood crisis the sources of
the creative process.
2.My mother was a founder and prime
mover in various intellectual projects...
(Paragraph 2): My mother was one of
those who engaged in the establishment
of various intellectual projects, and she
had great influence in the development
of these projects. Here, "prime mover"
refers to a person or thing that has great
influence in the development of
something important.
3. Why. this poem was nothing short of genius.
(Paragraph 3) : Oh, this poem showed that
you had talent for being a poet. Here,
"nothing short of" is used to add force to a
statement, meaning "nothing less than," "as
good as. “
4. ... my father held his ground. (Paragraph
17) : ... my father maintained his argument;
he insisted that my poem was "lousy. "
5. that she could criticize me without crushing
me. (Paragraph 21) : ... that she could judge
my poem with disapproval and point out its
faults, but not discourage me and destroy me.
Notes for Text II
1. about the author : Andrew H. Malcolm was
born in 1943 in Cleveland, Ohio. He studied
journalism at Northwestern University and
then joined The New York Times in 1967 as a
news clerk. He worked as a reporter for The
New York Times in New York, Chicago, and
San
Francisco
and
as
a
foreign
correspondent for the newspaper in the Far
East and Toronto before being assigned to
Chicago as bureau chief in 1982. He has won
major awards for reporting, and is the author
of Unknown America, published in 1975.
2. It may grow and flourish in mutual maturity. It
may sour in resented dependence or
independ"nee. (Paragraph 2) : The
relationship between a son and his father will
be getting better upon their mutual
understanding and tolerance. But if their
dependence on each other or independence
of each other develops hatred or indignation
between them, the relationship between the
father and the son may be destroyed.
3. hamster (Paragraph 3) : 仓鼠
4. None of those fishy little finger grips, but a
good firm squeeze accompanied by an
equally strong gaze into the other's eyes.
(Paragraph.S) : In handshaking, father did not
grip a person's hand with his fingers that were
expressionless, but squeezed a person's
hand firmly, with his eyes looking at the other
steadily and strongly.
5. I wasn't trying to please him so much as I
was trying to impress him. (Paragraph 9) :
When I was getting old, I was trying to leave
him a strong impression by what I had done; I
was trying to do something so as to have my
father proud of me and of what I did. I no
longer did some childish or naive mischief to
please him.
6. ... or why some incumbent was a jerk.
(Paragraph 11): ... he explained to me why he
thought the person in power was a foolish
and incapable one.
7. No amount of love could make someone else
care about life, 1 said; it was a two-way street.
( Paragraph 14): No matter how much I love
you, my father, no one but you can take care
of yourself. If you do not take good care of
yourself and make your life more comfortable
in a healthy way, it amounts to nothing even if
I try to change your way of life unilaterally.
You should also make efforts to change your
way of life.