I went to German lessons twice a week, in the late afternoon, darkness crowding in earlier with each succeeding visit.
It was Howard Dunlop's working rule that we sit facing each other during the full length of the lesson. He wanted meto study his tongue positions as he demonstrated the pronunciation of consonants1, diphthongs, long and short vowels2.
He in turn would look closely into my mouth as I attempted to reproduce the unhappy sounds.
His was a mild and quiet face, an oval surface with no hint of distinctiveness3 until he started his vocal4 routines. Thenthe warping5 began. It was an eerie6 thing to see, shamefully7 fascinating, as a seizure8 might be if witnessed in acontrolled environment. He tucked his head into his trunk, narrowed his eyes, made grimacing9 humanoid faces.
When it was time for me to repeat the noises I did likewise, if only to please the teacher, twisting my mouth, shuttingmy eyes completely, conscious of an overarticulation so tortured it must have sounded like a sudden bending of thenatural law, a stone or tree struggling to speak. When I opened my eyes he was only inches from my mouth, leaningin to peer. I used to wonder what he saw in there.
There were strained silences before and after each lesson. I tried to make small talk, get him to discuss his years as achiropractor, his life before German. He would look off into the middle distance, not angry or bored or evasive—justdetached, free of the connectedness of events, it seemed. When he did speak, about the other boarders or the landlord,there was something querulous in his voice, a drawn-out note of complaint. It was important for him to believe thathe'd spent his life among people who kept missing the point.
"How many students do you have?""For German?""Yes.""You're the only one I have for German. I used to have others. German has fallen off. These things go in cycles, likeeverything else.""What else do you teach?""Greek, Latin, ocean sailing.""People come here to learn ocean sailing?""Not so much anymore.""It's amazing how many people teach these days," I said. "There is a teacher for every person. Everyone I know iseither a teacher or a student. What do you think it means?"He looked off toward a closet door.
"Do you teach anything else?" I said.
"Meteorology.""Meteorology. How did that come about?""My mother's death had a terrible impact on me. I collapsed10 totally, lost my faith in God. I was inconsolable,withdrew completely into myself. Then one day by chance I saw a weather report on TV. A dynamic young man witha glowing pointer stood before a multicolored satellite photo, predicting the weather for the next five days. I sat theremesmerized by his self-assurance and skill. It was as though a message was being transmitted from the weathersatellite through that young man and then to me in my canvas chair. I turned to meteorology for comfort. I readweather maps, collected books on weather, attended launchings of weather balloons. I realized weather wassomething I'd been looking for all my life. It brought me a sense of peace and security I'd never experienced. Dew,frost and fog. Snow flurries. The jet stream. I believe there is a grandeur12 in the jet stream. I began to come out of myshell, talk to people in the street. 'Nice day.' 'Looks like rain.' 'Hot enough for you?' Everyone notices the weather.
First thing on rising, you go to the window, look at the weather. You do it, I do it. I made a list of goals I hoped toachieve in meteorology. I took a correspondence course, got a degree to teach the subject in buildings with a legaloccupancy of less than one hundred.
I've taught meteorology in church basements, in trailer parks, in people's dens13 and living rooms. They came to hearme in Millers14 Creek15, Lumberville, Watertown. Factory workers, housewives, merchants, members of the police andthe fire. I saw something in their eyes. A hunger, a compelling need."There were little holes in the cuffs16 of his thermal17 undershirt. We were standing18 in the middle of the room. I waited forhim to go on. It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent19 sadness to pass into the texture20 of things.
Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone.
When I got home, Bob Pardee was in the kitchen practicing his golf swing. Bob is Denise's father. He said he wasdriving through town on his way to Glassboro to make a presentation and thought he'd take us all to dinner.
He swung his locked hands in slow motion over his left shoulder, following through smoothly21. Denise eyed himfrom a stool by the window. He wore a half shaggy cardigan with sleeves that draped over the cuffs.
"What kind of presentation?" she said.
"Oh, you know. Charts, arrows. Slap some colors on a wall. It's a basic outreach tool, sweetheart.""Did you change jobs again?""I'm raising funds. Busy as hell, too, better believe.""What kind of funds?""Just whatever's out there, you know? People want to give me food stamps, etchings. Hey, great, I don't mind."He was bent22 over a putt. Babette leaned on the refrigerator door with her arms folded, watching him. Upstairs aBritish voice said: "There are forms of vertigo23 that do not include spinning.""Funds for what?" Denise said.
"There's a little thing you might have had occasion to hear of, called the Nuclear Accident Readiness Foundation.
Basically a legal defense24 fund for the industry. Just in case kind of thing.""Just in case what?""Just in case I faint from hunger. Let's sneak25 up on some ribs26, why don't we? You got your leg men, you got yourbreast men.
Babette, what do you say? I'm about semiprepared to slaughter27 my own animal.""How many jobs is this anyway?""Don't pester28 me, Denise.""Never mind, I don't care, do what you want."Bob took the three older kids to the Wagon29 Wheel. I drove Babette to the river-edge house where she would read toMr. Treadwell, the blind old man who lived there with his sister. Wilder sat between us, playing with thesupermarket tabloids30 that Treadwell favored as reading matter. As a volunteer reader to the blind, Babette had somereservations about the old gent's appetite for the unspeakable and seamy, believing that the handicapped weremorally bound to higher types of entertainment. If we couldn't look to them for victories of the human .spirit, whocould we look to? They had an example to set just as she did as a reader and morale-booster. But she wasprofessional in her duty, reading to him with high earnestness, as to a child, about dead men who leave messages onanswering machines.
Wilder and I waited in the car. The plan was that after the reading the three of us would meet the Wagon Wheel groupat the Dinky Donut, where they would have dessert and we would have dinner. I'd brought along a copy of MeinKampf for that segment of the evening.
The Treadwell house was an old frame structure with rotting trellises along the porch. Less than five minutes aftershe'd entered, Babette came out, walked uncertainly to the far end of the porch and peered across the dim yard. Thenshe walked slowly toward the car.
"Door was open. I went in, nobody. I looked around, nothing, nobody. I went upstairs, no sign of life. There doesn'tseem to be anything missing.""What do you know about his sister?""She's older than he is and probably in worse shape if you disregard the fact that he's blind and she isn't."The two nearest houses were dark, both up for sale, and no one at four other houses in the area knew anything aboutthe Treadwells'
movements over the past few days. We drove to the state trooper barracks and talked to a female clerk who satbehind a computer console. She told us there was a disappearance31 every eleven seconds and taped everything wesaid.
At the Dinky Donut, outside town, Bob Pardee sat quietly as the family ate and talked. The soft pink golfer's face hadbegun to droop32 from his skull33. His flesh seemed generally to sag11, giving him the hangdog look of someone understrict orders to lose weight. His hair was expensively cut and layered, a certain amount of color combed in, a certainamount of technology brought to bear, but it seemed to need a more dynamic head. I realized Babette was looking athim carefully, trying to grasp the meaning of the four careening years they'd spent as man and wife. The panoramiccarnage. He drank, gambled, drove his car down embankments, got fired, quit, retired34, traveled in disguise toCoaltown where he paid a woman to speak Swedish to him as they screwed. It was the Swedish that enraged35 Babette,either that or his need to confess it, and she hit out at him—hit out with the backs of her hands, with her elbows andwrists. Old loves, old fears. Now she watched him with a tender sympathy, a reflectiveness that seemed deep andfond and generous enough to contain all the magical coun-terspells to his current run of woe36, although I knew, ofcourse, as I went back to my book, that it was only a passing affection, one of those kindnesses no one understands.
By noon the next day they were dragging the river.
1 consonants | |
n.辅音,子音( consonant的名词复数 );辅音字母 | |
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2 vowels | |
n.元音,元音字母( vowel的名词复数 ) | |
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3 distinctiveness | |
特殊[独特]性 | |
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4 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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5 warping | |
n.翘面,扭曲,变形v.弄弯,变歪( warp的现在分词 );使(行为等)不合情理,使乖戾, | |
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6 eerie | |
adj.怪诞的;奇异的;可怕的;胆怯的 | |
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7 shamefully | |
可耻地; 丢脸地; 不体面地; 羞耻地 | |
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8 seizure | |
n.没收;占有;抵押 | |
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9 grimacing | |
v.扮鬼相,做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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10 collapsed | |
adj.倒塌的 | |
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11 sag | |
v.下垂,下跌,消沉;n.下垂,下跌,凹陷,[航海]随风漂流 | |
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12 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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13 dens | |
n.牙齿,齿状部分;兽窝( den的名词复数 );窝点;休息室;书斋 | |
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14 millers | |
n.(尤指面粉厂的)厂主( miller的名词复数 );磨房主;碾磨工;铣工 | |
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15 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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16 cuffs | |
n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打,拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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17 thermal | |
adj.热的,由热造成的;保暖的 | |
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18 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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19 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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20 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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21 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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22 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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23 vertigo | |
n.眩晕 | |
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24 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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25 sneak | |
vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝);偷偷摸摸做;n.潜行;adj.暗中进行 | |
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26 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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27 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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28 pester | |
v.纠缠,强求 | |
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29 wagon | |
n.四轮马车,手推车,面包车;无盖运货列车 | |
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30 tabloids | |
n.小报,通俗小报(版面通常比大报小一半,文章短,图片多,经常报道名人佚事)( tabloid的名词复数 );药片 | |
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31 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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32 droop | |
v.低垂,下垂;凋萎,萎靡 | |
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33 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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34 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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35 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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36 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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