六十年的回憶

For my dads 60th birthday last week， I wanted to do something really fun. My dad and I talk a lot about the past—nostalgia[懷舊] runs in our blood， I think—and we both love to reminisce[追憶]. Inspired by some birthday posters， I started batting around[充分考慮] an idea： what if I could get everyone from my dads past to contribute[貢獻] a memory they had of him？ What if I had all those people send their memories to me， and then I put each one into an envelope—60 total， of course—and had him open them， one by one， on his birthday？

That would be a lot of memories， right？

So I wrote an email. I sent it to family， to friends， to aunties and uncles wed grown up calling aunties and uncles even though they werent related by blood. This is what I said： “…If youre receiving this email， you probably know that our dad， Patrick Burns， is turning 60 next month （much as he would hate us to be reminding everyone， Im sure）. To celebrate his birthday， wed like to put together a little surprise to let him know that his nearest and dearest are thinking of him. Were going to try and create ‘60 Years of Memories by filling 60 envelopes with a memory his friends and family have of him. If you have a spare[空閑的] moment in the next few days， we would be so grateful if youd jot down[簡短地寫下] a favorite memory you have of our dad and put it in the post. It doesnt have to be anything fancy[特別的]—you can just write it down on a piece of paper and sign your name. You can mention anything you like—although the more nostalgic the better！ Please absolutely feel free to send more than one memory， but make sure you write them on different pieces of paper so we can split[分開] them up. Thank you so， so， so much for participating—we know everyone is busy with their own lives， and we do appreciate[感激] you taking a few minutes to do this； it will be so worth it when he reads all the memories people have of him！ Please dont forget to keep it a surprise until then…”

So I sent the email and then I waited. And then the replies started coming in. I was flabbergasted[感到震驚] and I do not use that word lightly. There were so many memories， and they were all so lovely. They came from the 50s， the 60s， the 70s， from every decade[十年] between now and the day my dad was born. They came from my mother， my siblings[兄弟姐妹]， my grandma， my dads friends from high school， his sister， an old girlfriend， my mothers old boyfriend， my dads first boss， a colleague at his first job， from people who remembered people no longer with us， from people who hadnt seen my dad in 40 years， from people I hadnt even contacted originally but who had been told about the project by someone else. They typed them and handwrote them. They mailed them and emailed them. I collected them for two weeks， my heart pinging[乒乓作響] with excitement each time a new one arrived.

The night before his birthday， my sister and I stayed up late， putting everything together. I had some vintage[經典的] airmail envelopes left over from my wedding and I bought a packet of numbered[編號] stickers[圖文標簽] after a fraught[焦慮的] half hour of anxious[讓人擔憂的] math， trying to decide how many wed need. We numbered the envelopes from one to 60， then we tucked[折進] a different memory into each.

And then， on the morning of his birthday， after breakfast and presents and cake， we gave them to him. “Just one more thing for you，” we said.

It took him a really， really， really long time to open them. Each one was a brief ticket to another time， a leap[跳躍] backwards over years and decades into the past. There was a lot of laughter， and—I dont think my dad will mind me telling you this—a few tears too.

In a way， Im sort of sad that this project is over because it was a huge amount of fun to collect and collate[整理] all of these memories， many of them occurring years before I was even born. It gave me a different picture of my dad， one woven together by all the people from his past， all those people who—weirdly and peripherally—put into action the sequence[系列] of events that led to my life as I know it.

Turns out， you can make a lot of memories in sixty years. And then， if youre lucky， you can relive[再次體驗] them all over again.

上周是我老爸的六十大壽，我想要做點非常好玩的事情。老爸和我時常聊起舊日的時光——我認為那是因為在我們血液中流淌著懷舊情結——我倆都喜歡追憶往昔。受到一些生日海報的啟發(fā)，我開始反復思考一個想法：我能不能讓老爸以前認識的每一個人都貢獻一段他們關于他的回憶呢？我能不能讓所有這些人都把他們的回憶發(fā)給我，然后把每一段回憶都裝進一個信封里——當然了，總共60個信封——然后讓他在生日那天一個一個地打開呢？

那將會是許多的回憶，不是嗎？

于是，我寫了一封郵件。我將它發(fā)給各個家庭成員，發(fā)給許多朋友，發(fā)給那些即便沒有血緣關系，但我們從小到大都稱其為叔叔和阿姨的人。我在郵件里是這樣寫的：“……如果您收到這封郵件，您或許認識我們的老爸帕特里克·伯恩斯，他下個月將步入六十歲了（我相信我們這樣提醒每個人，他會很不高興的）。為了慶祝他的生日，我們想要一起制造一個小驚喜，讓他知道他最親密和最親愛的人們都在想著他。我們將要用親朋好友對他的記憶來填滿六十個信封，試著創(chuàng)造一段‘六十年的回憶。如果您在接下來的幾天里有點空閑時間，如果您能信手寫下一筆有關我們老爸的最美好的回憶并將之投進郵筒，我們將不勝感激。