When I was growing up, I was embarrassed to be seen with my father. He was severely crippled and very short, and when we would walk together, his hand on my arm for balance, people would stare. I would inwardly squirm at the unwanted attention. If he ever noticed or was bothered, he never let on.
It was difficult to coordinate our steps -- his halting, mine impatient -- and because of that, we didn't say much as we went along. But as we started out, he always said, "You set the pace. I will try to adjust to you. "
Our usual walk was to or from the subway, which was how he got to work. He went to work sick, and despite nasty weather. He almost never missed a day, and would make it to the office even if others could not. A matter of pride.
When snow or ice was on the ground, it was impossible for him to walk, even with help. At such times my sisters or I would pull him through the streets of Brooklyn, NY, on a child's sleigh to the subway entrance. Once there, he would cling to the handrail until he reached the lower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept ice-free. In Manhattan the subway station was the basement of his office building, and he would not have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn' on his way home.
When I think of it now, I marvel at how much courage it must have taken for a grown man to subject himself to such indignity and stress. And at how he did it -- without bitterness or complaint .
He never talked about himself as an object of pity, nor did he show any envy of the more fortunate or able. What he looked for in others was a "good heart", and if he found one, the owner was good enough for him.
Now that I am older, I believe that is a proper standard by which to judge people, even though I still don' t know precisely what a "good heart" is. But I know the times I don't have one myself.
Unable to engage in many activities, my father still tried to participate in some way. When a local sandlot baseball team found itself |without a manager, he kept it going. He was a knowledgeable baseball fan and often took me to Ebbets Field to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play. He liked to go to dances and parties, where he could have a good time just sitting and watching.
On one memorable occasion a fight broke out at a beach party, with everyone punching and shoving. He wasn't content to sit and watch, but he couldn't stand unaided on the soft sand. In frustration he began to shout, "I' ll fight anyone who will tit down with me!"
Nobody did. But the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.
I now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. When I played ball (poorly), he "played" too. When I joined the Navy he "joined" too. And when I came home on leave, he saw to it that " I visited his office. Introducing me, he was really saying, "This is my son, but it is also me, and I could have done this, too, if things had been different." Those words were never said aloud.
He has been gone many years now, but I think of him often. I wonder if he sensed my reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. If he did, I am sorry I never told him how sorry I was, how unworthy I was, how I regretted it. I think of him when I complain about trifles, when I am envious of another's good fortune, when I don't have a "good heart".
At such times I put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, "You set the pace, I will try to adjust to you."
在我成長的過程中，我一直羞于讓別人看見的和父親在一起。我的父親身材矮小，腿上有嚴重的殘疾。當我們一起走路時，他總是挽著我以保持身體平衡，這時總招來一些異樣的目光，令我無地自容。可是如果他注意到了這些，不管他內心多么痛苦，也從不表現出來。
走路時，我們很難相互協調起來----他的步子慢慢騰騰，我的步子焦燥不安。所以一路上我們交談得很少。但是每次出行前，他總是說，"你走你的，我想法兒跟上你"。
我們常常往返于從家到他上班乘坐的地鐵站的那段路上。他有病也要上班，哪怕天氣惡劣。他幾乎從未誤過一天工，就是在別人不能去的情況下，他也要設法去上班。實在值得驕傲!
每當冰封大地，雪花飄飄的時候，若是沒有幫助，他簡直舉步維艱。每當此時，我或我的姐妹們就用兒童雪橇把他拉過紐約布魯克林區的街道，一直送他到地鐵的入口處。一到那兒，他便手抓扶手一直走到底下的臺階時才放開手，因為那里通道的空氣暖和些，地面上沒有結冰。到了曼哈頓，地鐵站就在他辦公樓的地下一層，在我們在布魯克林接他回家之前他無須再走出樓來。
如今每當我想起這些，我驚嘆一個成年男子要經受信這種侮辱和壓力得需要多么大的勇氣啊!嘆服他竟然能夠做到這一點，不帶任何痛苦，沒有絲毫抱怨。
他從不說自己可憐，也從不嫉妒別人的幸運和能力。他所期望的是人家"善良的心"，當他得到時，人家真的對他很好。
如今我已經長大成人，我明白了"善良的心"是評價人的恰當的標準，盡管我仍不很清楚它的確切涵義，但是我卻知道我有缺乏善心的時候。
雖然父親不能參加許多活動，但他仍然沒法以某種方式參與進來。當一個地方棒球隊發現缺少一個領隊時，他便作了領隊。因為他是個棒球迷，有豐富的棒球知識，他過去常帶我地埃比茨棒球場觀看布魯克林的鬼精靈隊的比賽。他喜歡參加舞會和晚會，樂意坐著看。
記得有一次的海邊晚會上，有人打架，動了拳頭，推推搡搡。他不甘于坐在那里當觀眾，但又無法在松軟的沙灘上自己站起來。于是，失望之下，他吼了起來："誰想坐下和我打?"
沒有人響應。但是第二天，人們都取笑他說比賽還沒開始，拳擊手就被勸認輸，這還是頭一次看見。
現在我知道一些事情他是通過我--他唯一的兒子來做的。當我打球時(盡管我打得很差)，他也在"打球"。當我參加海軍時，他也"參加"。當時我回家休息時，他一定要讓我去他的辦公室，在介紹我時，他真真切切地說，"這是我兒子，但也是我自己，假如事情不是這樣的話，我也會去參軍的?父親離開我們已經很多年了，但是我時常想起他。我不知道他是否意識到我曾經不愿意讓人看到和他走在一起的心理。假如他知道這一切，我現在感到很遺憾，因為我從沒告訴過他我是多么愧疚、多么不孝、多么悔恨。每當我為一些瑣事而抱怨時，為別人的好運而妒忌時，為我自己缺乏"善心"時，我就會想起我的父親。
此時，我會挽著他的胳膊保持身體平衡，并且說，"你走你的，我想法兒跟上你。"
