20xx邁克爾杰克遜牛津英語勵志演講稿(編輯修改稿)
2025-01-14 22:12 本頁面
【文章內(nèi)容簡介】 ughnuts. it was like santa claus.
sometimes i would think about staying up late at night, so i could see him leave them there, but just like with santa claus, i didnamp。39。t want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. my father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. he was scared of human emotion, he didnamp。39。t understand it or know how to deal with it. but he did know doughnuts.
and when i allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that e rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. so tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didnamp。39。t do, i want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. i want to stop judging him.
i have started reflecting on the fact that my father grew up in the south, in a very poor family. he came of age during the depression and his own father, who struggled to feed his children, showed little affection towards his family and raised my father and his siblings with an iron fist. who could have imagined what it was like to grow up a poor black man in the south, robbed of dignity, bereft of hope, struggling to bee a man in a world that saw my father as subordinate. i was the first black artist to be played on mtv and i remember how big a deal it was even then. and that was in the 80s!
my father moved to indiana and had a large family of his own, working long hours in the steel mills, work that kills the lungs and humbles the spirit, all to support his family. is it any wonder that he found it difficult to expose his feelings? is it any mystery that he hardened his heart, that he raised the emotional ramparts? and most of all, is it any wonder why he pushed his sons so hard to succeed as performers, so that they could be saved from what he knew to be a life of indignity and poverty?
i have begun to see that even my fatheramp。39。s harshness was a kind of love, an imperfect love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. he pushed me be
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