My grandfather died when I was a small boy, and my grandmother started staying with us for about six months every year. She lived in a room that doubled as my father's office, which we referred to as "the back room." She carried with her a powerful aroma. I don‘t know what kind of perfume she used, but it was the double-barreled, ninety-proof, knockdown, render-the-victim-unconscious, moose-killing variety. She kept it in a huge atomizer and applied it frequently and liberally. It was almost impossible to go into her room and remain breathing for any length of time. When she would leave the house to go spend six months with my Aunt Lillian, my mother and sisters would throw open all the windows, strip the bed, and take out the curtains and rugs. Then they would spend several days washing and airing things out, trying frantically to make the pungent odor go away.
This, then, was my grandmother at the time of the infamous pea incident.
It took place at the Biltmore Hotel, which, to my eight-year-old mind, was just about the fancies place to eat in all of Providence. My grandmother, my mother, and I were having lunch after a morning spent shopping. I grandly ordered a salisbury steak, confident in the knowledge that beneath that fancy name was a good old hamburger with gravy. When brought to the table, it was accompanied by a plate of peas. I do not like peas now. I did not like peas then. I have always hated peas. It is a complete mystery to me why anyone would voluntarily eat peas. I did not eat them at home. I did not eat them at restaurants. And I certainly was not about to eat them now. "Eat your peas," my grandmother said.
"Mother," said my mother in her warning voice. "He doesn‘t like peas. Leave him alone."
My grandmother did not reply, but there was a glint in her eye and a grim set to her jaw that signaled she was not going to be thwarted. She leaned in my direction, looked me in the eye, and uttered the fateful words that changed my life: "I'll pay you five dollars if you eat those peas."
I had absolutely no idea of the impending doom. I only knew that five dollars was an enormous, nearly unimaginable amount of money, and as awful as peas were, only one plate of them stood between me and the possession of that five dollars. I began to force the wretched things down my throat.
My mother was livid. My grandmother had that self-satisfied look of someone who has thrown down an unbeatable trump card. "I can do what I want, Ellen, and you can‘t stop me." My mother glared at her mother. She glared at me. No one can glare like my mother. If there were a glaring Olympics, she would undoubtedly win the gold medal.
I, of course, kept shoving peas down my throat. The glares made me nervous, and every single pea made me want to throw up, but the magical image of that five dollars floated before me, and I finally gagged down every last one of them. My grandmother handed me the five dollars with a flourish. My mother continued to glare in silence. And the episode ended. Or so I thought.
My grandmother left for Aunt Lillian's a few weeks later. That night, at dinner, my mother served two of my all-time favorite foods, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Along with them came a big, steaming bowl of peas. She offered me some peas, and I, in the very last moments of my innocent youth, declined. My mother fixed me with a cold eye as she heaped a huge pile of peas onto my plate. Then came the words that were to haunt me for years.
"You ate them for money," she said. "You can eat them for love."
Oh, despair! Oh, devastation! Now, too late, came the dawning realization that I had unwittingly damned myself to a hell from which there was no escape.
"You ate them for money. You can eat them for love."
What possible argument could I muster against that? There was none. Did I eat the peas? You bet I did. I ate them that day and every other time they were served thereafter. The five dollars were quickly spent. My grandmother passed away a few years later. But the legacy of the peas lived on, as it lives on to this day. If I so much as curl my lip when they are served (because, after all, I still hate the horrid little things), my mother repeats the dreaded words one more time: "You ate them for money," she says. "You can eat them for love."
体坛英语资讯:Xing Huina Redemption: Marathoner looks to US coach for second chance
体坛英语资讯:Brazil wins right to host 2014 World Cup
体坛英语资讯:McGrady leads Rockets past Jazz 106-95
体坛英语资讯:England fails to qualify for Euro 2008
体坛英语资讯:Chang breaks with Peng but still wants to help China
体坛英语资讯:Yao for MVP already?
体坛英语资讯:All the NBA is a stage
体坛英语资讯:Nadal the latest upset at Masters Cup
体坛英语资讯:We are one big happy family
体坛英语资讯:McClaren pays price for England Euro flop
体坛英语资讯:Hingis dope tests may never be revealed
体坛英语资讯:Nadal reaches Shanghai semis with Ferrers help
体坛英语资讯:Former France coach tipped to direct China
体坛英语资讯:Pairs skaters challenged by system
体坛英语资讯:French drive plus local nous to revive women
体坛英语资讯:11 ministries join hands to combat doping
体坛英语资讯:China names Frances Elisabeth as coach
体坛英语资讯:CBA struggling to find TV audience
体坛英语资讯:Chinas Li Na makes strong start to season
体坛英语资讯:McClaren: Successor will benefit from my flop
体坛英语资讯:Nalbandian tames Nadal again in Paris final
体坛英语资讯:Diving champ marries pop singer
体坛英语资讯:Xinjiang likely to be booted from CBA playoffs for cheating
体坛英语资讯:Li storms to victory in Aussie hardcourt final
体坛英语资讯:Chinas Yi takes NBA rookie honour
体坛英语资讯:Female Yao a head above the rest
体坛英语资讯:Chinese lead table tennis qualifiers for Beijing
体坛英语资讯:Federers stomach bug gives rivals a lift
体坛英语资讯:Federer back on track, Roddick into semis
体坛英语资讯:Federer wins clash of titans
不限 |
英语教案 |
英语课件 |
英语试题 |
不限 |
不限 |
上册 |
下册 |
不限 |