When Dad played his fiddle, the world became a bright star. To him violin was an instrument of faith, hope and charity. At least a thousand times, my mother said, “Your papa would play his fiddle if the world was about to blow up.”

　　每当爸爸拉起小提琴,世界就变成一颗闪亮的星星。对爸爸来说,小提琴是一种能带来信念、希望和善意的乐器。“即使世界下一秒就要灰飞湮灭,你爸爸还是会拉他的小提琴。”这样的话,妈妈曾说过不下一千次。

　　And once Dad came about as close to that as could ever be possible.

　　有一回,爸爸几近要面临那可能发生的一幕。

　　Everything on Nubbin Ridge—and on a majority of the small farms in Texas—was built around cotton as the money crop. But in the early years of the century, the boll weevil began devastating the cotton farms in the south.

　　纽宾山,以及德克萨斯州大部分的小农场的一切,都是建立在棉花这种经济作物上的。然而在上世纪初期,棉铃象甲开始侵嗜美国南部的棉花农场。

　　And in May of 1910 folks all over the nation were in a space-age state of turmoil over Halley's Comet. There were all sorts of frightening stories about the comet, the main one being that the world would pass through its tail, said to be millions of miles long.

　　1910年5月,全美国人民都笼罩在一片对哈雷彗星的恐慌之下,如处于太空时代般躁动不安。关于彗星耸人听闻的说法云云种种,传得最厉害的就是地球将穿过彗星的彗尾——据说彗尾长达数百万英里。

　　Between the threats of comet and weevils, the farmers were running low on optimism. One night, the farmers gathered at our farm to discuss what to do. When everyone had found seats, Will Bowen suggested, “Charley, how about getting down your fiddle and bow and giving us a little music?”

　　面对着彗星和棉铃象甲的双重威胁,农场主们都一筹莫展。一天晚上,农场主们聚集在我们的农场商量大计。当大家纷纷落座,威尔·鲍温建议:“查理,把你的小提琴和琴弓拿出来,给大伙来点儿音乐怎么样?”

　　“Aw, I don't think anybody'd want to hear me saw the gourd tonight,” Dad replied.

　　“噢,我觉得今晚没人想听我拉那葫芦吧。”爸爸回应说。

　　“Come on, Mr. Nordyke,” one of the younger women urged, “why don't you play for us.”

　　“来吧,诺达克先生,”一个年轻妇女催促说,“你就给我们拉一把吧。”

　　Dad had a knack for getting people in the mood for his music. Knowing of the scattered prejudice against the fiddle, he eased into a song titled Gloryland. It was a church song with church tones, but it was fairly fast with some good runs. He shifted from Gloryland to The Bonnie Blue Flag, a Confederate war song, which created a big stir—foot stamping, hand clapping and a few rebel yells.

　　爸爸有这么一种能耐,能将大家带入他的音乐氛围中。知道有些人对小提琴存有异见,他先来了首《荣耀之地》暖场。这是一首教会的歌,有着教会的调调,但节奏较快,有几段精彩的急奏。然后,他从《荣耀之地》过渡到《美丽的蓝旗》—— 一首南北战争时南方联盟的战歌,这首歌在人群中引起了很大的共鸣,场上响起了跺脚声、打拍子声,还有喝彩声。

　　Will Bowen, apparently having forgotten Halley's Comet, shouted, “How about giving us Sally Goodin?” Dad played the old breakdown with vigor. Several men jumped up and jigged around. Children gathered around and gazed wide-eyed at the performance.

　　威尔·鲍温明显已经把哈雷彗星的事忘得一干二净了,嚷了起来:“来首《沙丽·古丁》吧!”爸爸又兴致勃勃地拉奏了这首经典的跺脚拽步舞曲。有几个人应声而起,跳起舞来了。孩子们也围拢过来定睛看着这段表演,眼睛都睁得大大的。

　　All our neighbors went home whistling or humming. Very few remembered to look toward the northwest to see whether the comet and its wicked tail were still around…
所有的邻居在散去时要么吹着口哨,要么就哼着曲儿。几乎没人还记得要看看那西北方是否还有哈雷彗星和它那邪恶的尾巴的踪迹……

　　One evening, Will Bowen called dad on the telephone and said, “Charley, I'm downhearted and blue. Every time a square forms, there are four boll weevils waiting there to puncture it with their snouts. Just wondered if you could play a tune or two for me?”

　　一天晚上,威尔·鲍温给爸爸打来电话,说“查理,我很失落很担心。每长出一个棉蕾,就有四只棉铃象甲蠢蠢欲动,等着用象鼻往里面钻孔。你能不能给我拉一两首歌?”

　　“I sure could, Will,” Dad said. “Could you come over?”

　　“当然可以啦,威尔,”爸爸说,“你可以过来吗?”

　　“No. I mean play on the phone box.”

　　“不,我的意思是在电话里拉。”

　　“The phone box?”

　　“在电话里?”

　　“Sure,” Mr. Bowen said. “I can hear you talk. Why couldn't I hear the fiddle?”

　　“是啊,”鲍温先生说,“我能听到你说话,怎么会听不到你的琴声呢?”

　　Dad took the fiddle to the telephone and thumped the strings. Putting the receiver to his ear, he said, “Hear anything. Will?”

　　爸爸把小提琴拿到话机旁,重重地拨弄了几下琴弦。然后他把听筒拿到耳边,问:“威尔,听到吗?”

　　“Sure can,” Mr. Bowen said. “Could you try Sally Goodin and play it just like you did the other night?” Dad handed the receiver to me. He stepped up to the mouthpiece on the wall box and cut loose on Sally Goodin. I could hear Mr. Bowen whistling and yelling.

　　“当然听到,”鲍温先生说,“你能不能拉《沙丽·古丁》,就像前几天那样?”爸爸把听筒递给我。他向前走近挂在墙上的话筒,尽情地拉奏起这首《沙丽·古丁》。我听到电话那头传来伯温先生的口哨声和欢呼声。

　　By the time the tune was finished there were half a dozen neighbors on the line, and they talked about how wonderful the music sounded over the telephone. They made numerous requests; I relayed them to Dad and he played the numbers.

　　曲终之时,电话的那头已经聚集了六位邻居,他们谈论着透过电话聆听音乐有多美妙。他们又点了很多曲子,我转告爸爸,他都一一弹奏了。

　　Our party line broadcasts became regular features of community life. On rough-weather days of winter when farm folks were forced to remain in the house, someone would ring us and ask Dad to play, and usually it developed into a network affair. Our phone kept ringing with requests for music until radio came in.

　　我们的派对热线广播成为了当地生活的固定节目。当严冬季节将务农的人们困在室内的时候,就会有人给我们打电话,请爸爸给他们拉小提琴。久而久之,这慢慢成为了一种社交生活。在无线电广播普及之前,我们家的点播热线总是响个不停。