Morrie lost his battle. Someone was now wiping his behind.
He faced this with typically brave acceptance. No longer able to reach behind him when he used the commode, he informed Connie of his latest limitation. "Would you be embarrassed to do it for me?" She said no.
I found it typical that he asked her first.
It took some getting used to, Morrie admitted, because it was, in a way, complete surrender to the disease. The most personal and basic things had now been taken from him-going to the bathroom, wiping his nose, washing his private parts. With the exception of breathing and swallowing his food, he was dependent on others for nearly everything.
I asked Morrie how he managed to stay positive through that.
"Mitch, it's funny," he said. "I'm an independent person, so my inclination1 was to fight all of this-being helped from the car, having someone else dress me. I felt a little ashamed, because our culture tells us we should be ashamed if we can't wipe our own behind. But then I figured, Forget what the culture says. I have ignored the culture much of my life. I am not going to be ashamed. What's the big deal?
"And you know what? The strangest thing." What's that?
"I began to enjoy my dependency. Now I enjoy when they turn me over on my side and rub cream on my behind so I don't get sores. Or when they wipe my brow, or they massage2 my legs. I revel3 in it. I close my eyes and soak it up. And it seems very familiar to me.
"It's like going back to being a child again. Someone to bathe you. Someone to lift you. Someone to wipe you. We all know how to be a child. It's inside all of us. For me, it's just remembering how to enjoy it.
"The truth is, when our mothers held us, rocked us, stroked our heads-none of us ever got enough of that. We all yearn4 in some way to return to those days when we were completely taken care of-unconditional5 love, unconditional attention. Most of us didn't get enough.
"I know I didn't."
I looked at Morrie and I suddenly knew why he so enjoyed my leaning over and adjusting his microphone, or fussing with the pillows, or wiping his eyes. Human touch. At seventy-eight, he was giving as an adult and taking as a child.
Later that day, we talked about aging. Or maybe 1 should say the fear of aging-another of the issues on my what's-bugging-my-generation list. On my ride from the Boston airport, I had counted the billboards6 that featured young and beautiful people. There was a handsome young man in a cowboy hat, smoking a cigarette, two beautiful young women smiling over a shampoo bottle, a sultrylooking teenager with her jeans unsnapped, and a sexy woman in a black velvet7 dress, next to a man in a tuxedo8, the two of them snuggling a glass of scotch9.
Not once did I see anyone who would pass for over thirty-five. I told Morrie I was already feeling over the hill, much as I tried desperately10 to stay on top of it. I worked out constantly. Watched what I ate. Checked my hairline in the mirror. I had gone from being proud to say my age-because of all I had done so young-to not bringing it up, for fear I was getting too close to forty and, therefore, professional oblivion.
Morrie had aging in better perspective.
"All this emphasis on youth-I don't buy it," he said. "Listen, I know what a misery11 being young can be, so don't tell me it's so great. All these kids who came to me with their struggles, their strife12, their feelings of inadequacy13, their sense that life was miserable14, so bad they wanted to kill themselves . . .
"And, in addition to all the miseries15, the young are not wise. They have very little understanding about life. Who wants to live every day when you don't know what's going on? When people are manipulating you, telling you to buy this perfume and you'll be beautiful, or this pair of jeans and you'll be sexy-and you believe them! It's such nonsense."
Weren't you ever afraid to grow old, I asked?
"Mitch, I embrace aging."
Embrace it?
"It's very simple. As you grow, you learn more. If you stayed at twenty-two, you'd always be as ignorant as you were at twenty-two. Aging is not just decay, you know. It's growth. It's more than the negative that you're going to die, it's also the positive that you understand you're going to die, and that you live a better life because of it."
Yes, I said, but if aging were so valuable, why do people always say, "Oh, if I were young again." You never hear people say, "I wish I were sixty-five."
He smiled. "You know what that reflects? Unsatisfied lives. Unfulfilled lives. Lives that haven't found meaning. Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward. You want to see more, do more. You can't wait until sixty-five. "Listen. You should know something. All younger people should know something. If you're always battling against getting older, you're always going to be unhappy, because it will happen anyhow.
"And Mitch?"
He lowered his voice.
"The fact is, you are going to die eventually." I nodded.
"It won't matter what you tell yourself." I know.
"But hopefully," he said, "not for a long, long time." He closed his eyes with a peaceful look, then asked me to adjust the pillows behind his head. His body needed constant adjustment to stay comfortable. It was propped16 in the chair with white pillows, yellow foam17, and blue towels. At a quick glance, it seemed as if Morrie were being packed for shipping18.
"Thank you," he whispered as I moved the pillows. No problem, I said.
"Mitch. What are you thinking?"
I paused before answering. Okay, I said, I'm wondering how you don't envy younger, healthy people.
"Oh, I guess I do." He closed his eyes. "I envy them being able to go to the health club, or go for a swim. Or dance. Mostly for dancing. But envy comes to me, I feel it, and then I let it go. Remember what I said about detachment? Let it go. Tell yourself, `That's envy, I'm going to separate from it now.' And walk away."
He coughed-a long, scratchy cough-and he pushed a tissue to his mouth and spit weakly into it. Sitting there, I felt so much stronger than he, ridiculously so, as if I could lift him and toss him over my shoulder like a sack of flour. I was embarrassed by this superiority, because I did not feel superior to him in any other way.
How do you keep from envying . . .
"What?"
Me?
He smiled.
"Mitch, it is impossible for the old not to envy the young. But the issue is to accept who you are and revel in that. This is your time to be in your thirties. I had my time to be in my thirties, and now is my time to be seventy-eight.
"You have to find what's good and true and beautiful in your life as it is now. Looking back makes you competitive. And, age is not a competitive issue."
He exhaled19 and lowered his eyes, as if to watch his breath scatter20 into the air.
"The truth is, part of me is every age. I'm a three-year-old, I'm a five-year-old, I'm a thirty-seven-year-old, I'm a fifty-year-old. I've been through all of them, and I know what it's like. I delight in being a child when it's appropriate to be a child. I delight in being a wise old man when it's appropriate to be a wise old man. Think of all I can be! I am every age, up to my own. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"How can I be envious21 of where you are-when I've been there myself?"
"Fate succumbs22 many a species: one alone jeopardises itself."
-W. H. AUDEN, MORRIE 'S FAVORITE " POET
莫里输掉了这场较量。现在得有人替他擦洗屁股了。
他以一种特有的勇气去面对这个现实。当他上完厕所后无法自己擦洗时，他把这一最新的情况告诉了康尼。
"让你帮我擦洗你会觉得难堪吗"
她说不会。
我觉得他不同寻常，因为他最先求助的是康尼。
这不是一下子就能适应的，莫里承认道，因为从某种意义上说，这是完全向疾病屈服的表现。现在连做最隐私，最基本的事情的权力也被剥夺了--上厕所，擦鼻涕，擦洗自己的身体，除了呼吸和咽食外，他几乎一切都得依赖于别人。
我问莫里他是如何保持乐观态度的。
"米奇，这很滑稽，"他说。"我是个独立的人，因此我内心总在同这一切抗争--依赖车子，让人替我穿衣服等等。我有一种羞耻感，因为我们的文化告诉我们说，如果你不能自已擦洗屁股，你就应该感到羞耻。但我又想，忘掉文化对我们的灌输。我的大半生都没有去理睬这种文化。我没有必要感到羞耻。这有什么关系呢？
"你知道吗？真是太奇怪了，"
是什么？
"我感觉到了依赖别人的乐趣。现在当他们替我翻身，在我背上涂擦防止长疮的乳霜时，我感到是一种享受。当他们替我擦脸或按摩腿部时，我同样觉得很受用，我会闭上眼睛陶醉在其中。一切都显得习以为常了。
"这就像重新回到了婴儿期。有人给你洗澡，有人抱你，有人替你擦洗。我们都有过当孩子的经历，它留在了你的大脑深处。对我而言，这只是在重新回忆起儿时的那份乐趣罢了。
"事实上，当母亲搂抱我们，轻摇我们，抚摸我们时--我们没人嫌这份呵护太多，在某种程度上，我们甚至渴望回到完全由人照顾的年代去--这是一种无保留的爱，无保留的呵护。许多人都缺少这份爱。
"我就是。"
我望着莫里，顿时明白了他为什么喜欢我探过身去帮他扶正话筒、抬抬枕头或擦拭眼睛。人类的接触。七十八岁的他像成人那样给予，又像孩子那样接受。
那天晚些时候，我们谈到了年龄和衰老。或者说谈到了对衰老的恐惧--另一个列在我的目录上，困惑着我们这一代人的问题。我从波士顿机场开车来这儿的路上，注意到了许多印着俊男靓女的广告牌。一个英俊的牛仔在抽香烟，两个漂亮的姑娘对着洗发水嫣然而笑，一个举止撩人的女郎穿着敞开扣子的牛仔裤，一个身穿黑丝绒礼服的性感女子和一个身穿无尾礼服的男子依偎在苏格兰威士忌的酒杯旁。
我从未在广告牌上见过年龄超过三十五岁的模特。我对莫里说，虽然我竭力想停留在华年的巅峰，但我已有了桑榆暮景的感觉。我经常锻炼，注意饮食结构，在镜子里查看有没有自发。我从原来颇为自己的年龄自豪一因为我觉得自己是少年有成--到不愿提起年龄，害怕自己步人不惑之年后就再也没有事业上的成就感了。
莫里以一种更独特的视角来看待年龄问题。
"那是因为人们过于强调了年轻的价值--我不接受这种价值观，"他说。"我知道年轻也会是一种苦恼，所以别向我炫耀年轻的魅力。那些来找我的孩子都有他们的烦恼：矛盾、迷惘、不成熟、活着感到累，有的甚至想自杀……
"而且，年轻人还不够明智。他们对生活的理解很有限。如果你对生活一无所知的话，你还愿意一天天过下去吗？当人们在影响你，对你说使用这种香水可以变得漂亮，或穿这条牛仔裤可以变得性感时，你往往就相信了。其实那都是胡扯。"
你从来没有害怕过变老？我问。
"米奇，我乐于接受老。"
乐于接受？
"这很简单。随着年龄的增加，你的阅历也更加丰富。如果你停留在二十二岁的年龄阶段，你就永远是二十二岁的那般浅薄。要知道，衰老并不就是衰败。它是成熟。接近死亡并不一定是坏事，当你意识到这个事实后，它也有十分积极的一面，你会因此而活得更好。"
是啊，我说，可如果变老是那么有价值的话，为什么人们总说，"啊，但愿我变得年轻。"你从来没有听人这么说过，"但愿我已经六十五岁了。"
他笑了。"你知道这反映了什么？生活的不满足，生活的不充实，生活的无意义。因为你一旦找到了生活的意义，你就不会想回到从前去。你想往前走。你想看得更多，做得更多。你想体验六十五岁的那份经历。
"听着，你应该懂得一个哲理。所有年轻人都应该懂得这个哲理。如果你一直不愿意变老，那你就永远不会幸福，因为你终究是要变老的。
"米奇？"
他放低了声音。
"事实是，你总是要死的。"
我点点头。
"这不取决于你对自己怎么说。"
我知道。
他神态平静地闭上了眼睛，接着叫我帮他调节一下枕头的位置，他的身体需要不停地挪动，不然会难受。他整个人凹陷在那只堆满了白枕头、黄海绵和蓝毛巾的躺椅里。一瞥之下，你会以为莫里是在被装箱送去海运呢。
"谢谢，"我移动枕头时他对我低声说。
没关系，我说。
"米奇，你在想什么？"
我迟疑了一下。好吧，我说。我在想你怎么一点也不羡慕年轻、健康的人。
"哦，我想我是羡慕他们的。"他闭上了眼睛。"我羡慕他们可以去健身俱乐部，可以去游泳，可以跳舞。尤其是跳舞。但当这种感情到来时，我先感受它，然后便离开它。还记得我说过的超脱吗？离它而去。对自己说，'这是忌妒，我要离开它。'然后我就离开了。"
他又咳嗽起来--一阵声音刺耳的长咳--他把一张手中纸递到嘴边，无力地吐着痰。坐在那里，我觉得自己比他要强壮得多--多么荒唐可笑的念头--我觉得能把他提起来像一袋面粉一样扛在肩上。我为这一优越感而感到害臊，因为在其它任何方面我一点也不比他优越。
你怎么一点也不羡慕……
"什么？"
我？
他笑了。
"米奇，老年人不可能不羡慕年轻人，但问题是你得接受现状并能自得其乐。这是你三十几岁的好时光。我也有过三十几岁的岁月，而我现在是七十八岁。
"你应该发现你现在生活中的一切美好。真实的东西，回首过去会使你产生竞争的意识，而年龄是无法竞争的。"
他长吁了口气，垂下眼睛，好像注视着他的呼吸消散在空气里。
"实际上，我分属于不同的年龄阶段。我是个三岁的孩子，也是个五岁的孩子；我是个三十七岁的中年人，也是个五十岁的中年人。这些年龄阶段我都经历过，我知道它们是什么样的。当我应该是个孩子时，我乐于做个孩子；当我应该是个聪明的老头时，我也乐于做个聪明的老头。我乐于接受自然赋于我的一切权力。我属于任何一个年龄，直到现在的我，你能理解吗？"
我点点头。
"我不会羡慕你的人生阶段--因为我也有过这个人生阶段。"
"命运屈从于
无数个种类：只有一个
会危及它自己。"
--w•H•奥登
莫里最喜欢的诗人
收听单词发音 |
1
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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massage
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| n.按摩，揉；vt.按摩，揉，美化，奉承，篡改数据 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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unconditional
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| adj.无条件的，无限制的，绝对的 | |
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billboards
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| n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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7
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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tuxedo
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| n.礼服，无尾礼服 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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13
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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15
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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succumbs
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的第三人称单数 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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