Unit Ten

　

　

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I first heard this story a few years ago from a
girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.
Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folk-
lore that reappear every few years, to be told anew in
one form or another. However, I still like to think that
it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.

　

　

GOING HOME

　

　

They were going to Fort Lauderdale -- three boys and three girls--
and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in
paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the gray, cold
spring of New York vanished behind them.


As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo.
He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving,
his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a
lot, frozen into complete silence.


Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard
Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat,
and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his
life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier
going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside
him and introduced herself.


" We're going to Florida, " she said brightly. "I hear it's really beautiful. "
　

"It is," he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
"

Want some wine?" she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bot-
tle. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while,
she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
　

In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's, and
this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed
very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young peo-
ple chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they returned to the bus,
the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he
began to tell his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four
years, and now he was going home.
　

"Are you married?"


"I don't know. "
　

"You don't know?" she said.
　

"Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife, " he said. "I told her
that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it,if
the kids kept askin' questions, if it hurt her too much, well, she could just
forget me. I'd understand. Get a new guy, I said-she's a wonderful wom-
an, really something-and forget about me. I told her she didn't have to
write me. And she didn't. Not for three and a half years. "
　

"And you're going home now, not knowing?"
　

"Yeah, " he said shyly. "Well, last week, when I was sure the parole
was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just
before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town.I
told her that if she didn't have a new guy and if she'd take me back, she
should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come
home. If she didn't want me, forget it--no handkerchief, and I'd go on
through. "
　

"Wow, " the girl exclaimed. "Wow. "
　

She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the
approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his
wife and three children -- the woman handsome in a plain way, the chil-
dren still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
　

Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took
over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great
oak tree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face, as if fortifying him-
self against still another disappointment.
　

Then Brunswick was 10 miles, and then five. Then, suddenly, all of
the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and
crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.

Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with
yellow handkerchiefs - 20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree
that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young
people shouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat and made his way
to the front of the bus to go home.



　

Click the button to listen to the pronunciations of new words

　

　

　

New Words

　

mysterious a.
strange 神秘的

mystery n.

folklore n.
民间传说

reappear vi.
appear again after an absence 再(出)现

anew ad.
in a new or different way; again 重新；再

sometime ad.
at some uncertain or unstated time 某个时候　　　　　　

tide n.
潮汐　　　　

vanish vi.
disappear 　　　　

ill-fitting a.
不和身的

dusty a.
covered with dust 满是灰尘的　　

mask vt.
hide 遮盖;掩盖　　　　

root v.
(cause to)be fixed and unmoving(使)生根


(使)固定

runaway n.
a person that has left home or escaped


逃跑者，出逃者　　　　　　　　　

brightly ad.
in a bright manner, cheerfully 欢快地,


高兴地

swig n.
a long and large drink 疼饮

retreat vi.
go back; withdraw 退缩；退却，撤退　　　　

chatter vi.
talk fast and noisy about sth.unimportant


喋喋不休　　　

painfully ad.
in great discomfort 痛苦地　　　

painful a. 　　　

jail n.
prison 监狱　　　　　

guy n.
(AmE sl. )man; fellow 人；家伙　　　　　　　

yeah ad.
(AmE) yes 　　　

parole n.
conditional release from prison 假释

oak n.
橡树　　　　

wow interj .
an expression of surprise 哇，呀　　　　

exclaim vt.
cry out suddenly because of surprise,


anger, pain,etc.惊叫,叫喊说

approach n.
coming near or nearer 接近,临近

unformed a.
immature 发育未全的

handle vt.
touch, feel or use (sth.) with the hand(s)


触,摸,抚弄

snapshot n.
快照

tight v.
make or become tighter or firmer(使)变紧;


(使)绷紧

fortify vt.
make strong 增强;给...以勇气

stun vt.
shock or surprise(sb.)使震惊;使目瞪口呆

banner n.
flag 旗,旗帜

billow vi.
wave(波浪)翻腾;波浪般起伏

con n.
convict, prisoner 囚犯




　
Phrases & Expressions
　
dream of
wish for ardently 向往，渴望

pull into
enter, arrive at (车等)驶入;到达

take back
agree to receive sb. whom one has dismissed


允许...回来,接受

come through
arrive as expected 如所预料地到来

be caught up in
be very interested in 对...入迷

take over
occupy 占用;接管

make one's way
move along 去，前往


　

　

Proper Names
　

Greenwich Village
格林尼治村(纽约市)

Fort Lauderdale
洛德代尔堡(佛罗里达州)

New Jersey
新泽西(美国州名)

Vingo
文戈(姓氏)

Howard Johnson
霍华德.约翰逊

Florida
佛罗里达(美国州名)

Brunswick
布伦斯威克(佐治亚州)

Jacksonville
杰克逊维尔(佛罗里达州)