the doctor's son文章的复述

the doctor's son文章的复述

The Doctor's Son
Harold EppleywithRochelle Melander
Many teenagers believe that growing up is a struggle to be independent.They want to be free from their parents' control and they want to be different.Read the following text and see how a young man struggles to stand on his own two feet.
My parents moved toVermontwhen I was still aninfant.Asoft-spokenman,my fathersettled quietly intohis medical practice in a small town calledEnosburg.Soon thelocalpeople accepted him as one of their own.Word passes quickly in smallVermonttowns.They know good people when they meet them.Around town the neighbors greeted my father as "Doc Eppley." And I soon learned that as long as I lived in Enosburg I would always be known as "Doctor Eppley's son".
On the first day of school,my classmates crowded around me because I was the doctor's son."If you're anything like your father,you'll be a smart boy," my first-grade teacher said.I couldn't stop
Beaming.
Somewherein themidstofmy teenage years,however,something changed.I was sixteen years old and the neighbors still called me "Doctor Eppley's son." They said that I was growing up to be an
Honorableandindustriousyoung man,living an honest life just like my father.Igroanedwhenever I heard theircompliments.
I wondered how I would everfit in withmy teenage friends.I hated being followed by my
father's good name.And so when strangers asked me if I was Doctor Eppley's son,I repliedemphatically,"My name is Harold.And I can manage quite wellon my own." As an act ofrebellion,I began to call my father by his first name,Sam.
"Why are you acting sostubbornlately?" my father asked me one day in the midst of
anargument.
"Well,Sam," I replied,"I suppose that bothers you."
"You know it hurts me when you call me Sam," my father shouted.One night at college I sat with a group of students in thedormitoryas we shared stories about our lives.We began to talk about the things we hated most about ourchildhoods."That's easy," I said."I couldn't stand growing up in a town where everybody alwayscompared me withmy father."
The girl sitting next to mefrowned."I don't understand," she said."I'd be proud to have a father who's so well respected." Her eyes filled with tears as she continued,"I'd give anything tobe called my father's child.But I don't know where he is.He left my mother when I was only four."
There was anawkwardsilence,and then I changed the subject.I wasn't ready to hear her words.
I returned home for winter break that year,feeling proud of myself.In four months at college,I had made a number of new friends.I had become popularin my own right,without my father's help.
For two weeks I enjoyed being back in Enosburg.The maintopicof interest at home was my father's new car."Let me take it out for a drive," I said.
My father agreed,but not without his usual warning,"Be careful."
Iglaredat him."Sam,I'm sick ofbeing treated like a child.I'm in college now.Don't you think I know how to drive?"
I could see the hurt in my father's face,and I remembered how much he hated it whenever I called him "Sam.""All right then," he replied.
Ihoppedinto the car and headed down the road,savoringthe beauty of the Vermont countryside.My mind waswandering.At a busyintersection,I hit the car right in front of mine before I knew it.
The woman in the car jumped out screaming:"Youidiot!Why didn't you look where you were going?"
Isurveyedthe damage.Both cars hadsustainedseriousdents.
I sat there like aguiltychild as the woman continuedcomplaining."It's your fault," she shouted.I couldn'tprotest.My knees began to shake.Ichokedbackmy tears.
"Do you haveinsurance?Can you pay for this?Who are you?" she kept asking."Who are you?"
Ipanickedand,without thinking,shouted,"I'm Doctor Eppley's son."
I sat there stunned.I couldn't believe what I had just said.Almost immediately,the woman's frown became a smile ofrecognition."I'm sorry," she replied,"I didn't realize who you were."