下麵這段英文是一篇演講稿，摘自美國70年代拍攝的電視連續劇The Walton。演講的主人是一個名叫John-boy(John Jr.)的男孩，在他高中畢業時的發言。記得很多年前從圖書館借的光盤，看這部劇的時候，有點被震撼到。電視劇描述的是1933-1946年大蕭條和二戰時期，弗吉尼亞沃爾頓山上一個大家庭的故事，充滿鄉土人情味。電視中John -boy演講，當時看的時候印象就很深，今天特地從網上搜索下來，粗粗翻了翻(有些地方還要改改，功底不夠啊)。這篇講稿文字簡樸精確，富有生活氣息。特此摘錄留存。如有更好的譯文，求之。

As a friend of The Walton's, I would like to welcome you to our family and share this memory with you.

Someone once asked my sister, Marion, where Walton's Mountain was, and she answered, "It's a place where my brother was happy."

That place is the white clapboard house that still stands across the road from The Walton Museum. And this is how I remember it:

I remember my childhood. We were in a depression, but we weren't depressed. We were poor, but nobody ever bothered to tell us that. All we knew was that we suffered an absence of money, but that didn't bother us. We were too occupied with the day to day events. To a skinny, awkward, red headed kid who secretly yearned to be a writer, and kept a journal of events, each of those days seemed filled with wonder. And as I look back they still do.

I remember that the end of winter would come late. First the icicles would melt along the eves of the house and gradually the layers of snow on the north end of the barn would disappear. Sometimes my mother's yellow, blue and white crocus would become impatient and push their heads through the snow on each side of the front walk.

Then March! Time to climb Witt's Hill again with kites made of brown wrapping paper and flown on string which had been collected for that purpose all winter long, then the blossoming of the dogwood and redbud and forsythia which told us that Spring had come again.

Summer would arrive and with it crickets and blue birds and cousins from Richmond and Petersburg, up for a visit. We would go barefooted and catch fireflies in the twilight. After darkness fell we would sit on the front porch and listen to ghost stories told by our grandparents. Some nights my father would take the whole gang down to Drusilla's Pond to catch blue gill and bass. There were two sisters who had drowned there, but we would leave before their ghosts were said to come out with the darkness. Some nights my father would call up bob white quail and lure them to the edge of the porch.

On Sundays we would drive over to Uncle Benny Tapscott's farm in Buckingham County. He would let us go down to his spring house and bring back chilled watermelons and cantaloupe. We would eat them in the yard and spit the seeds on the ground.

Every night there was something good to listen to on the radio. The whole family would gather to listen to "One Man's Family", or Charlie McCarthy ribbing Edgar Bergen or Gene Autrey singing "I'm Back In The Saddle Again". And one memorable night President Roosevelt reassured an apprehensive nation that "all we have to fear is fear itself".

With the coming of Fall we learned to wear shoes again. We would gather chinquapins and black walnuts in the woods and bring them home in bushel baskets. And when the frost killed the vines we would gather the last of the green tomatoes from the garden and the following day my mother's kitchen would be filled with the pungent aroma of green tomato relish.

With September came school again, and autumn color and the aroma of burning leaves. Finally the long silent Winter would be upon us. Under my parents supervision, my brothers and sisters and I would gather around the long wooden kitchen table and do our homework until one by one we drifted off to bed. And there with the house in darkness, we would call good night to each other, and then go to sleep in the knowledge that we were safe, secure, home.

做為沃爾頓家庭的一位友人, 我歡迎你們的光臨並願和你們一起回憶往事。

有人曾問過我的妹妹瑪麗恩，沃爾頓山在哪兒，她回答說“那是一個我哥哥感到幸福快樂的地方”。

那個地方有座用白隔板所搭建的房子，至今還矗立在沃頓博物館馬路的對麵。我記得的是這樣的：

我記得我的童年。那時正處在大蕭條期，而我們並不沮喪。我們窮，可沒人會在意告訴我們這點(可沒有人說我們窮)。我們隻知道缺錢，但那並不困擾著我們。我們每天要做的事太多。對一個瘦弱，窘迫，長著一頭紅發，內心偷偷渴望成為一位作家，記著日記的少年來說，那些日子的每一天都充滿奇妙。今日回首，依然如此。

記憶中，冬天總是遲遲不離去。當屋簷的冰柱開始融化之時，北端穀倉上的層層積雪也接著慢慢地消融。有時，媽媽種的黃色，藍色和白色的番紅花急不可待地從前院的路兩旁雪堆中拱出頭來。

然後三月了！帶著我們花了一個冬天收集的褐色包裝紙和線，做成的風箏，又去爬威特山，那盛開的山茱萸，紫荊花和連翹在告訴我們，春天又來了。

夏天帶著蟋蟀，藍鳥來了。裏曲盟、匹茲堡的表哥表弟也會上來探望我們。我們光著腳，在暮色中捉螢火蟲。當夜幕降臨後，我們會坐在前院的門廊上，聽祖父母給我們講鬼怪的故事。有幾個晚上，爸爸會帶著我們這幫孩子下到德魯西拉池塘捉藍鰓和鱸魚。那個池塘淹死過兩個女孩，幽靈據說是在天黑後出來，而我們會在它們出來之前離開池塘。有些晚上，爸爸模仿著白鵪鶉的叫聲，把它們引誘到門廊邊。

周日，我們會開車到白金翰縣的Benny Tapscott叔叔的農場。叔叔會讓我們下去到他的冷藏間，讓我們帶回冰鎮的西瓜和蜜瓜，坐在院子裏吃，把籽吐在地上。

每個夜晚，收音機裏總有好聽的節目。一家人聚集在一起聽“一個男人的家”,或是查理麥卡錫調侃艾德卡伯格，或聽Gene Autry 唱“我重又坐上馬背”。 記憶猶新的是一個晚上，羅斯福總統寬慰憂慮重重的國人，“我們所該害怕的就是恐懼本身”。

秋天來了，我們重又學著穿上了鞋子。我們去樹林裏撿錐栗和黑核桃，整籃整籃地扛回家。當霜凍襲來，藤枝凍死後，我們采集著果園裏最後一批綠色的西紅柿。第二天，媽媽的廚房便滿屋飄著綠番茄的濃鬱清香。

九月來了，學校開學了，也帶來了秋的顏色和樹葉焚燒後的香味。寂靜漫長的冬天終於要來了。在爸爸媽媽督促下，我和弟弟妹妹們坐在廚房長長的木桌子前一起做功課，直到一個個困了睡去。熄燈後(？)，在黑暗中，我們互道晚安，知道今夜我們安然無恙，並安睡在家中(求更好的翻譯？)。