半 月 潭
欧巴马总统在悼念死难矿工集会上的讲话
DDR 发表于 2010-04-30 22:43:45
We’re here to memorialize 29 Americans: Carl Acord. Jason Atkins. Christopher Bell. Gregory Steven Brock. Kenneth Allan Chapman. Robert Clark. Charles Timothy Davis. Cory Davis. Michael Lee Elswick. William I. Griffith. Steven Harrah. Edward Dean Jones. Richard K. Lane. William Roosevelt Lynch. Nicholas Darrell McCroskey. Joe Marcum. Ronald Lee Maynor. James E. Mooney. Adam Keith Morgan. Rex L. Mullins. Joshua S. Napper. Howard D. Payne. Dillard Earl Persinger. Joel R. Price. Deward Scott. Gary Quarles. Grover Dale Skeens. Benny Willingham. And Ricky Workman.
Nothing I, or the Vice President, or the Governor, none of the speakers here today, nothing we say can fill the hole they leave in your hearts, or the absence that they leave in your lives. If any comfort can be found, it can, perhaps, be found by seeking the face of God -- (applause) -- who quiets our troubled minds, a God who mends our broken hearts, a God who eases our mourning souls.
Even as we mourn 29 lives lost, we also remember 29 lives lived. Up at 4:30 a.m., 5:00 in the morning at the latest, they began their day, as they worked, in darkness. In coveralls and hard-toe boots, a hardhat over their heads, they would sit quietly for their hour-long journey, five miles into a mountain, the only light the lamp on their caps, or the glow from the mantrip they rode in.
Day after day, they would burrow into the coal, the fruits of their labor, what so often we take for granted: the electricity that lights up a convention center; that lights up our church or our home, our school, our office; the energy that powers our country; the energy that powers the world. (Applause.)
And most days they’d emerge from the dark mine, squinting at the light. Most days, they’d emerge, sweaty and dirty and dusted from coal. Most days, they’d come home. But not that day.
These men -– these husbands, fathers, grandfathers, brothers sons, uncles, nephews -– they did not take on their job unaware of the perils. Some of them had already been injured; some of them had seen a friend get hurt. So they understood there were risks. And their families did, too. They knew their kids would say a prayer at night before they left. They knew their wives would wait for a call when their shift ended saying everything was okay. They knew their parents felt a pang of fear every time a breaking news alert came on, or the radio cut in.
But they left for the mines anyway -– some, having waited all their lives to be miners; having longed to follow in the footsteps of their fathers and their grandfathers. And yet, none of them did it for themselves alone.
All that hard work, all that hardship, all the time spent underground, it was all for the families. It was all for you. For a car in the driveway, a roof overhead. For a chance to give their kids opportunities that they would never know, and enjoy retirement with their spouses. It was all in the hopes of something better. And so these miners lived -– as they died -– in pursuit of the American Dream.
There, in the mines, for their families, they became a family themselves -– sharing birthdays, relaxing together, watching Mountaineers football or basketball together, spending days off together, hunting or fishing. They may not have always loved what they did, said a sister, but they loved doing it together. They loved doing it as a family. They loved doing it as a community.
That’s a spirit that’s reflected in a song that almost every American knows. But it’s a song most people, I think, would be surprised was actually written by a coal miner’s son about this town, Beckley, about the people of West Virginia. It’s the song, Lean on Me -– an anthem of friendship, but also an anthem of community, of coming together.
That community was revealed for all to see in the minutes, and hours, and days after the tragedy. Rescuers, risking their own safety, scouring narrow tunnels saturated with methane and carbon monoxide, hoping against hope they might find a survivor. Friends keeping porch lights on in a nightly vigil; hanging up homemade signs that read, “Pray for our miners, and their families.” Neighbors consoling each other, and supporting each other and leaning on one another.
I’ve seen it, the strength of that community. In the days that followed the disaster, emails and letters poured into the White House. Postmarked from different places across the country, they often began the same way: “I am proud to be from a family of miners.” “I am the son of a coal miner.” “I am proud to be a coal miner’s daughter.” (Applause.) They were always proud, and they asked me to keep our miners in my thoughts, in my prayers. Never forget, they say, miners keep America’s lights on. (Applause.) And then in these letters, they make a simple plea: Don’t let this happen again. (Applause.) Don't let this happen again.
How can we fail them? How can a nation that relies on its miners not do everything in its power to protect them? How can we let anyone in this country put their lives at risk by simply showing up to work; by simply pursuing the American Dream?
We cannot bring back the 29 men we lost. They are with the Lord now. Our task, here on Earth, is to save lives from being lost in another such tragedy; to do what must do, individually and collectively, to assure safe conditions underground -- (applause) -- to treat our miners like they treat each other -- like a family. (Applause.) Because we are all family and we are all Americans. (Applause.) And we have to lean on one another, and look out for one another, and love one another, and pray for one another.
There’s a psalm that comes to mind today -– a psalm that comes to mind, a psalm we often turn to in times of heartache.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
God bless our miners. (Applause.) God bless their families. God bless West Virginia. (Applause.) And God bless the United States of America. (Applause.)
以下是来自DDR的拙劣的翻译，有需要的朋友将就着看
我们在这里纪念29位美国人：卡尔·阿奎德，杰森·阿迪金斯，克里斯多夫·贝尔，乔治·斯蒂文·波洛克，肯尼斯·阿兰·查普曼， 罗伯特·克拉克，查尔斯·提摩丝·戴维斯，科瑞·戴维斯，麦克尔·李·艾斯维克，威廉·格里菲斯，斯蒂文·哈瑞，爱德华·丁·琼斯，理查德·K 雷恩，威廉·罗斯威特·林奇，尼古拉斯·达瑞尔·麦克戈洛斯基，裘·马库姆，罗纳德·李·美诺，詹姆斯·E 蒙呢，阿达姆·凯瑟·莫干，瑞克斯·L 穆林斯，裘什·S 拿珀，霍华德·D 培尼，迪拉德·埃尔·珀辛格，裘·R 珀莱丝，戴沃德·斯哥特，格雷·考莱斯，格若甫·戴尔·斯金斯，本·威林汉，李奇·沃克曼。
今天在这里演讲的任何人，无论是我还是副总统抑或州长，无论我们以何种言语，都无法抚平因为他们的离去而在你们心中留下的创伤，也无法替代他们在你们生活中的位置。也许，只有上帝才能给予慰藉，平复我们焦虑的心情，治愈我们受伤的心灵，宽慰我们悲怆的灵魂。尽管我们在哀悼29个逝去的生命，但他们的音容笑貌却历历在目。4点半起床，最迟5点，他们就在黑暗中开始了一天的工作。穿着工作服，套着硬头靴，戴着安全帽，静静地坐着，开始一小时的旅程。他们深入5英里外的大山，唯一的光亮来自帽上的矿灯或是搭载他们的升井机。日复一日，他们在煤矿中采掘，对于他们劳动的果实我们已经习以为常：煤炭产生的电力点亮了会议中心，点亮了教堂，点亮了家、学校、办公室。这些能源驱动了我们的国家，驱动了整个世界。多数时候，他们可以走出漆黑的矿洞，朝着亮光眯起眼睛；多数时候，他们可以走出煤矿，带着满身的汗水和煤尘；多数时候，他们可以回到家中……但是，那天，他们再也没能……这些男子汉们，这些丈夫、父亲、爷爷、兄弟、儿子、伯伯，侄子——他们并非不知道自己工作的风险。其中的一些人曾经受过伤，一些人见过工友受伤。所以他们知道那里有危险。他们的家庭也深知这一点。他们知道，在上矿的前夜，孩子们会为其祷告；他们知道，在换班时分，妻子会守在电话旁，等他们道声安好；他们知道，每当噩耗传来或是广播节目中止，父母都会惊恐万分。但是无论如何，他们还是来到了矿山，一些人希望做了一辈子矿工，渴望追随先人的脚步。然而，他们的作为并不只是为了自己。所有的劳作，所有的艰难困苦，所有的井下时光，都是为了家庭，为了你们。为了停在（自家）车道上的车，为了头顶的屋瓦，为了给孩子们创造自己都无法料及的机遇，为了与伴侣白头偕老。这都是为了期望一个更好的生活。他们为了圆一个美国梦而活着，也因此丧命。正是在矿里，为了家庭，他们自己组成了一个大家庭，一起过生日，休息，一起看橄榄球赛，篮球赛，一起打猎钓鱼。一位大姐说，他们不一定总是喜欢这些事，但他们喜欢像一个社区一家人那样一同做这些事。这种精神反映在一首脍炙人口的歌中。但是我估计，大多数人不知道这首矿工之子写的歌正是关于这个小镇——别克利，关于西弗吉尼亚的人们。就是这首《靠紧我》，赞美了友谊，也赞美了团队精神，赞美了同甘共苦。在悲剧发生后的几分钟、几小时、几天之内，这个社区备受关注。救援人员冒着生命危险在充满甲烷和一氧化碳的狭窄巷道中搜索，抱一线希望寻找幸存者。在守候的日日夜夜里，朋友们点亮着走廊灯，挂着自制的标语，上面写着：为我们的矿工及其家人祈福。邻里们互相安慰，互相支持，相互依靠。我想，这就是社区的力量。在灾难降临的几天里，书信、电邮如雪片般飞向白宫。这些来自全国各地的信常常以同样的方式开头：“我为自己生在一个矿工家庭而骄傲”，“我是一个煤矿工人的儿子”，“我为自己是矿工的女儿而自豪”。他们一如既往地自豪着，也要求我不要忘了矿工，为矿工祈祷。他们说，请永远铭记，是矿工让美国永放光芒。在信中，他们还有一个简单的请求：不要让悲剧重演。不要让悲剧重演。我们怎么能辜负他们？一个依靠矿工的国家怎么能不竭尽全力保护他们？在这个国家，我们怎么能让任何人的生命仅仅因为工作，仅仅为了追求美国梦就置于危险之中？昔人已逝，我们无力回天。他们现已与主同伴。我们的当务之急是防止类似伤亡事件再次发生，逐个地共同地，保证井下安全，像矿工们对待彼此那样，将他们视作家人。因为我们都是一家人，都是美国人。我们必须相互扶助，相互守望，相亲相爱，相互祈福。此时有首赞美歌涌上我的心头，涌上我心头的这首歌总是在我们心痛时响起。“我虽然行过死阴的幽谷，也不遭害，因为你与我同在，你的杖，你的竿，都安慰我。”（《耶和华是我的牧者》——DDR按）上帝保佑我们的矿工。上帝保佑他们的家庭。上帝保佑弗吉尼亚。也愿上帝保佑美国。
办证
DDR 发表于 2009-03-03 22:34:03
才下公交，威武的政府大楼就映入眼帘了，这词虽然老了点，但它的确是充斥了我的视野。这里是曾今的“十强县”县政府所在地，外围环着一圈类似于“护城河”的水渠，它包围着的建筑从中间向两边呈阶梯状递减，像一个“品”字。
走上台阶，可以望见，大楼里面比外面还昏暗。玻璃门向两旁自动张开，把我吞了进去。四周顿时安静下来，大厅宽敞，走道幽深，我想，这就是衙门了。
电梯舒适，全无一般国产品牌的异样感。来到办公室门口，敲门而入，伴随着空调的味道身子立刻融入一股暖流中。环视室内，一共放下三张办公桌，空间还显得绰绰有余。靠门口坐着一个小伙子，瘦高的身材配一件黑色羊毛衫，看样子不比我大多少。靠近他的时候，可以清楚地数出他脸上的青春痘。向里一些一个年轻姑娘背对门坐着，专注地盯着电脑，三分钟后我发现，她在聊qq。最里面是一个中年人，神情肃穆，头也不抬地直面眼前的屏幕，从他的镜片里隐约闪出欣喜的光。接待我和其他“准会计”的是那位小伙子，办证需要审核表格，输入信息，打印，最后还要封一层塑膜，这些程序都是他一人完成。他说话不多声音轻细语气缓和，同这楼里的环境融为一体，要不是期间他向同事抱怨这活累，你会忽略另两个人的存在。填表的时候，我注意到他台上的电脑显示的是“携程旅游”的页面，桌上的文件堆里一本《看世界》尤为突出，封面上的陈水扁板着脸。不小心碰一下，才发觉杂志盖在一个茶缸之上，清新的茶香和柔和的水汽瞬时弥散开来淹没了陈前总统。可以想象，在我们到来之前，“黑毛衣”正惬意地在携程上计划着休假，偶尔呷口茶，看世界。在我展开联想之时，他已经开始给上岗证塑封了，机器在最里面的角落里，走进去，终于可以看到，一旁的中年人在打“接龙”，头也不抬，神情肃穆。
接过黑毛衣手中的“上岗证”，我算正式加入会计行列，但身为一个纳税人，此时此刻总高兴不起来。走出大楼，天亮了一些，太阳却还在云间。
