“Yeah sure，what is it？”replied the man.
“Daddy，how much do you make an hour？”
“That’s none of your business.Why do you ask such a thing？”the man said angrily.
“I just want to know.Please tell me，how much do you make an hour？”pleaded the little boy.
“If you must know，I make 20an hour.”
“Oh，”the little boy replied，with his head down.Looking up，he said，“Daddy，may I please borrow 10？”
The father was furious，“If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense，then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed.Think about why you are being so selfish.I work hard every day for such childish behavior.”
The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy’s questions.How dare he ask such questions only to get some money？After about an hour or so，the man had calmed down，and started to think：Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that 10and he really didn’t ask for money very often.
The man went to the door of the little boy’s room and opened the door.
“Are you asleep，son？”He asked.
“No daddy，I’m awake，”replied the boy.
“I’ve been thinking，maybe I was too hard on you earlier，”said the man，“It’s been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you.Here’s the 10you asked for.”
The little boy sat straight up，smiling.“Oh，thank you daddy！”He yelled.Then，reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills.The man，seeing that the boy already had money，started to get angry again.The little boy slowly counted out his money，then looked up at his father.
“Why do you want more money if you already have some？”the father grumbled.
“Because I didn’t have enough，but now I do，”the little boy replied.“Daddy，I have 20now.Can I buy an hour of your time？Please come home early tomorrow.I would like to have dinner with you.”
我可以买你一小时的时间吗
一个人工作到很晚，带着疲惫与愤怒回到家里，却发现5岁大的儿子正在门口等他。
“爸爸，我可以问你一个问题吗？”
“当然，什么问题？”
“爸爸，你一个小时赚多少钱？”
“这不关你的事。怎么问这样一个问题？”父亲生气地说道。
“我只是想知道。请告诉我吧，你一个小时赚多少钱？”小男孩乞求地说。
“真想知道就告诉你吧，我一小时赚20美元。”
“噢，”男孩说着，低下了头。接着，他抬起头来问：“爸爸，我可以借你10美元钱吗？”
父亲生气了：“如果你问这个问题，只是为了借钱买无聊的玩具或其他没用的东西，那就赶紧回你的房间睡觉去。想想你怎么会这么自私。我每天工作这么辛苦，得到的竟是这样幼稚愚蠢的举动。”
小男孩静静地走进自己的房间，关上了门。这个人坐下后，更加为这个男孩的问题生气了。这孩子怎么敢问这样的问题，就为了借些钱呢？大约过了一个小时，他才平静下来了，开始想：也许他真的需要这10美元买什么东西呢，他并不是经常要钱花。
于是这个人走到小男孩的门口，打开了门。
“你睡了吗，孩子？”他问。
“没有呢，爸爸，我醒着。”男孩回答。
“我在想，可能刚才我对你太严厉了，”父亲说，“经过漫长的一天，我把怒气都发到你身上了。这是你要的10美元。”
小男孩坐直了身子，笑了：“噢，谢谢爸爸！”他忍不住呼喊起来。接着，他伸手到枕头底下，拿出一把皱巴巴的钞票。看到男孩已经有钱了，父亲又忍不住要发火。小男孩慢慢地数着钱，然后抬头看着父亲。
“既然你已经有钱了，为什么还要更多钱？”父亲粗鲁地抱怨说。
“因为我的钱不够，不过现在够了，”小男孩回答，“爸爸，我现在有20美元了，我可以买你一小时的时间吗？请你明天早点下班，我想和你一起吃晚饭。”
My Father’s Hands
His hands were rough and exceedingly strong.He could gently prune a fruit tree or firmly ease a stubborn horse into a harness.What I remember most is the special warmth from those hands as he would take me by the shoulder and point out the glittering swoop of a blue hawk，or a rabbit asleep in its lair.They were good hands that served him well and failed him in only one thing.They never learned to write.
My father was illiterate.The number of illiterates in our country has steadily declined，but if there were only one I would be saddened，remembering my father and the pain he endured because his hands never learned to write.He started school in the first grade，where the remedy for a wrong answer was ten ruler strokes across a stretched palm.For some reason，shapes，figures and letters just did not fall into the right pattern inside his sixyearold mind.His father took him out of school after several months and set him to a man’s job on the farm.
Years later，his wife，with her fourthgrade education，would try to teach him to read.And still later I would grasp his big fist between my small hands and awkwardly help him to trace the letters of his name.He submitted to the ordeal for a short time，but soon grew restless and would declare that he had had enough.
One night，when he thought no one saw，he slipped away with my second grade reader and labored over the words until they became too difficult.He pressed his forehead into the pages and wept.Thereafter，no amount of persuading could bring him to sit with pen and paper.He did still like to listen to my mother，and then to me，read to him.He especially enjoyed listening to us read to him from the Bible.
My father was forced to let the bank take possession of most of the acreage of his farmland one year when a crop failure meant he couldn’t make the mortgage payment.He was able to keep one acre of the farmland where the small farm house was located.
From the farm to road building and later to factory work，his hands served him well.His mind was keen，and his will to work was unsurpassed.His enthusiasm and efficiency brought an offer to become a line boss—until he was handed the qualification test.
Years later，when Mother died，I tried to get him to come and live with my family，but he insisted on staying in the small house with the garden plot and a few farm animals close by.His health began to fail，and he was in and out of the hospital with two mild heart attacks.Old Doc.Green saw him weekly and gave him medication，including nitroglycerin tablets to put under his tongue should he feel an attack coming on.
My last fond memory of Dad was watching as he walked across the brow of a hillside meadow with those big warm hands resting on the shoulders of my two children.He stopped to point out a pond where he and I had fished years before.The night，my family and I flew back to our own home.Three weeks later Dad was dead because of a heart attack.
I returned to my father’s home for the funeral.Doc.Green told me how sorry he was.In fact，he was bothered a bit，because he had just written Dad a new prescription，and the druggist had filled it.Yet the bottle of pills had not been found on Dad’s person.Doc Green felt that a pill might have kept him alive long enough to summon help.
I went out to Dad’s garden plot where a neighbor had found him.In grief，I stooped to trace my fingers in the earth where he had reached the end of his life.My hand came to rest on a halfburied brick，which I aimlessly lifted.I noticed underneath it the twisted and battered，yet unbroken，container that had been beaten into the soft earth.
