everyday use for your grandmama
高级英语第七课课件第三版EverydayUseforYour
E v e r y d a y U s e f o r Y o u r G r a n d m a m aIn order to understand this passage better, we can watch a movie---”The Color of Purple”故事发生于1909年美国南部。
未受过教育的黑人女孩西莉被继父强奸后，又被迫嫁给了粗鲁，凶狠的黑人男子，西莉称其为“先生”。
在惊恐和胆怯中她开始了奴仆一般的痛苦生活。
幸而有亲姐妹南蒂与之相伴，泪水中才多了一些欢乐。
不久，这短暂的幸福也从西莉身边消失了。
因为“先生”强奸南蒂不成，恼羞成怒地将南蒂赶了出去，姐妹二人被残酷的分开。
年复一年，西莉在门口的邮筒中找寻南蒂的音讯，她始终期盼有一天能与南蒂再次重逢……(从中大家可以看到当时的整个社会的缩影，以及黑人生活的社会环境和社会地位，黑人女性的崛起和黑人女性的反抗精神也从有深刻得展现)Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaCharacters:Maggie: a shy,young woman made even more self-concious by scars she got in a house fire years ago. She hasn` t has much formal education but has learned traditional skills, such as quilting, from her familiy.Mama(Mrs johnson): the narrator of the story. She is a middle-aged or even older African American woman living with her younger daugter, Maggie. Athough poor, she is strong and independent, and takes great pride in her way of life.Dee(Wangero):Dee is Mama` s older daugher. She is attractive, well-educated and sophisticated. Moreover, she is selfish and she may even has caused the fire that disfigured （损毁···的外貌）her sister. Mama(Mrs johnson) called her Dee or Wangero.Asalamalakim: a young muslim man who accompanies Dee on her visit. Mama, unable to pronounce his name , called him “Hakim-a- Baber”. The muslim greeting he gives to her means “peace and happiness to you. ” This maybe ironic because their visit disturbs the peaceful lives of Maggie and Mama. The relationship between him and Dee is unknown. He may be a friend, a boyfriend, husband or spiritual adviser.Main content:The story begins when the mother and Maggie wait for Dee to come back goes back home with her lover. She asks for some traditional household appliances, especially two old quilts made by their grandma. The mother refuses. Instead, she sends the two quilts to Maggie. Dee leaves her eyes, two old quilts(百纳被) are the cultural heritage of blacks. Maggie inherits the black tradition and she should own them.The text:I. para1-2 The prelude: the three family members.II. Para3-16 The mother’s recollections / flashback:the three persons’relationships——mother; Maggie; Dee III. Para17- 82 The process of Dee going back home.Detailed study of the text:Paragraph 1---16:Paragraph1:1,...Maggie and I made so clean and wavy...(wavy:波动起伏的。
第七课 外祖母的日用家当 翻译
“不对，妈妈，”她说。“不是‘迪伊’，是‘万杰罗.李万里卡。克曼乔’！”
“那‘迪伊’呢？”我问道。
“她已经死了，”万杰罗说。“我无法忍受照那些压迫我的人的名字个我取名。”
“你同我一样清楚你的名字是照你迪茜姨妈的名字取得，”我说。迪茜是我的妹妹，她名叫迪伊。 迪伊出生后我们就叫她“大迪伊”。
有时候我在梦里梦见迪伊和我突然成了这种电视节目的剧中人。我从一辆黑色软座垫大轿车上一下来，立刻被人引进一间宽敞明亮的屋子里。屋里有许多人，其中一个身材高大威武，满面微笑，有点像著名电视节目主持人约翰尼.卡森的美男子迎上来和我握手，并对我说我养了个好女儿。然后，我们来到台前，迪伊热泪盈眶地拥抱着我，还把一朵大大的兰花别在我的衣服上，尽管她曾对我说过兰花是很低级的花。
她到这儿来时我要去迎接——但他们已经到了。
麦姬拔腿就要往屋里跑去，但我第一眼看见从车上下来的那条腿就知道那是迪伊。她的腿看起来总是那么齐整，好像是上帝亲自为她特意定做的似的。从车子的另一边走下来一个矮胖的男人，他满头的头发都有一英尺长，从下巴颏上垂下来，像一只卷毛的骡子尾巴。我听见麦姬吸气的声音，听起来像是“呃”音，就像你路上突然发像一条蛇尾巴在你脚尖前蠕动时发出的声音。“呃。”
迪伊好打扮。中学毕业时她要一件黄色玻璃纱连衣裙穿着去参加毕业典礼；为了与她用别人送我的一套旧衣服改制的绿色套服配着穿，她又要了一双黑色浅口皮鞋。她要什么东西时总是不顾一切地拼命地要，不达目的不罢休，她可以一连好几分钟不眨眼地死瞪着你。我常常是费了好大的劲才克制住自己没把她抓着使劲摇抖。到十六岁时她的言谈举止开始形成自己的风格，她也知道什么叫时髦。
我故意背对这房子。这房子有三个房间，除屋顶是锡皮的外，其他方面都与被烧掉的那所房屋一样。现在再也找不到做木瓦屋顶的了。房子没有真正的窗户，只是侧面墙上挖了几个洞，有点像船上的舷窗，但又不是圆的，也不是方形的。窗格子向外开，用生牛皮悬吊起来。这房子也像那所被烧的房子一样建在一个牧场上。毫无疑问，只要迪伊看见这所房子，她一定又要毁掉它。她曾写信告诉我说，无论我们“选择”何处定居，她都会设法来看我们，但却不会带她的朋友上门。麦姬和我对这话考虑了一会，麦姬突然问我：“妈妈，迪伊什么时候有过朋友的呀？”
艾丽斯·沃克作品《Everyday Use》赏析
In 1961, Walker went to Spelman College in Atlanta on a full scholarship and later transferred to Sarah Lawrence College near New York City, graduating in 1965. In early 1960s,Walker met Martin Luther King Jr. when she was a student at Spelman College in Atlanta. Walker credits King for her decision to return to the American South as an activist for the civil rights movement. She marched with hundreds of thousands in August in the 1963 March on Washington. As a young adult, she volunteered to register black voters in Georgia and Mississippi.
Because the family had no car, the Walkers could not take their daughter to a hospital for immediate treatment. By the time they reached a doctor a week later, she had become permanently blind in that eye.
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Everyday Use
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译EverydayUseforyourgrandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into a bright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can killand clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyes with a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. 1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have anyfriends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school. Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes hermove. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil Warthrough the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call him Hakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said "Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed over Grandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down to make butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and started rifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of GrandpaJarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "These old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marries John Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobody using 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to neve r winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee who taught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
高级英语第三课Everyday-use-for-your-grandmama课件
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张 (1)“ Not ‘Dee’, Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo! ”
◆ Dee’s original name has already been carried by several generations of female ancestors, which can be traced back beyond the Civil War, the new African name is not related to her personal history at all and dissociates her from her family and therefore from her true heritage.
（2）“ She‘s dead, ” Wangero said. “ I couldn’t
bear
it any longer, being named after the people who
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oppress me.”
张
她认为迪伊这个名字是压迫他们的白人给的，但是实 际上这个代代相传的名字正是寄托了祖母对于后代传承 文化的期望，已经在某种意义上成为家族的文化遗产， 新的名字才与她真的毫无关联，使她与黑人文化脱节。
1
张
1、Meet again
Maggie
Dee and mother
2、Take photos 3、Discussion about name
5、Everyday use
4、have dinner
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张
☆ 3、Name
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译Everyday Use for your grandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into a bright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyeswith a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job.1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school. Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand."Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes her move. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call himHakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said"Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed over Grandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down tomake butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and started rifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of Grandpa Jarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "Th ese old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marries John Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobodyusing 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to never winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee who taught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
高级英语第一册_Unit_4_Everyday_Use_for_Your_Grandmama
Unit 4 Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice Walker 1.) About the authorAlice Walker (1944- ), poet, novelist and essayist, was born into a poor rural family in Eatonton, Georgia. Her parents made a living by growing cotton. When she went to Sarah Lawren ce College in the early 60’s, the civil rights movement was in full swing. She was actively involved in the movement and upon graduation worked in Mississippi, center of the civil rights activities. After experiencing the political movement and as a case worker for the New York City welfare department, she became a teacher of creative writing and black literature, lecturing at Jackson State College, Tougaloo College, Wellesley, Yale and University of California at Berkeley. Her writing career began with the publication of a volume of poetry in 1968, which was followed by a number of novels, short stories, critical essays and more poetry. Now she is regarded as one of the most prominent writers in American literature and a most forceful representative of wome n’s literature and black literature.Her works include The Thrid Life Grange Copeland (1970), Meridian (1976), a volume of poetry Revolutionary Petunias and Other Poems (1973), a collection of short stories In Love and Trouble: Stories of Black Women (1973) and a recent novel The Temple of My Familiar (1989). Her most significant novel is The Purple, published in 1982, which won all the three major book awards in America –the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award. The novel was an instant bestseller and made into an equally successful movie in 1985, directed by Spielberg and starring Whoopi Goldberg.Alice Walker is at her best when portraying people living in the rural areas where the writer was born and grew up. As a black writer, Walker is particularly interested in examining the relationships among the blacks themselves.2.) “Everyday Use”(1973) is included in the Norton Anthology of Short Fiction, 2nd Edition, 1981. “Everyday Use”, one of the best-written short stories by Alice Walker, describes three women. The mother is a working woman without much education, but not without intelligence or perception. The two daughters form a sharp contrast in every conceivable way: appearance, character, personal experiences, etc. The story reaches its climax at the moment when Dee, the elder daughter, wants the old quilts only to e refused flatly by the mother, who intends to give them to Maggie, the younger one. The old quilts, made from pieces of clothes worn by grand and great grand parents and stitched by Grandma’s hand, are clearly a symbol of the cultural heritage of the black people. Their different feelings about the quilts reveal their different attitudes towards their heritage as blacks.The theme:The main theme in the story concerns the character’s connections to their ancestral roots.Dee Johnson believes that she is affirming her African heritage by changing her name, her mannerisms,and her appearance, even though her family has lived in the U.S. for several generations.The historical present:描述历史事件的现在时，使事件更生动、更真实The historcal present(some times dramatic present) refers to the employment of the present tense when narrating past events. It is used in fiction, for “hot news” (as in headlines), and in everyday conversation, it is partical any common with “verbs of communication” such as tell,write,etc.I will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yesterday afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house. 我就在这院子里等候她的到来。
高级英语第七课课件第三版Everyday Use for Your Grandmama
Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaIn order to understand this passage better, we can watch a movie---”The Color of Purple”故事发生于1909年美国南部。
未受过教育的黑人女孩西莉被继父强奸后，又被迫嫁给了粗鲁，凶狠的黑人男子，西莉称其为“先生”。
在惊恐和胆怯中她开始了奴仆一般的痛苦生活。
幸而有亲姐妹南蒂与之相伴，泪水中才多了一些欢乐。
不久，这短暂的幸福也从西莉身边消失了。
因为“先生”强奸南蒂不成，恼羞成怒地将南蒂赶了出去，姐妹二人被残酷的分开。
年复一年，西莉在门口的邮筒中找寻南蒂的音讯，她始终期盼有一天能与南蒂再次重逢……(从中大家可以看到当时的整个社会的缩影，以及黑人生活的社会环境和社会地位，黑人女性的崛起和黑人女性的反抗精神也从有深刻得展现)Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaCharacters:Maggie: a shy,young woman made even more self-concious by scars she got in a house fire years ago. She hasn` t has much formal education but has learned traditional skills, such as quilting, from her familiy.Mama(Mrs johnson): the narrator of the story. She is a middle-aged or even older African American woman living with her younger daugter, Maggie. Athough poor, she is strong and independent, and takes great pride in her way of life.Dee(Wangero):Dee is Mama` s older daugher. She is attractive, well-educated and sophisticated. Moreover, she is selfish and she may even has caused the fire that disfigured （损毁···的外貌）her sister. Mama(Mrs johnson) called her Dee or Wangero. Asalamalakim: a young muslim man who accompanies Dee on her visit. Mama, unable to pronounce his name , called him “Hakim-a- Baber”. The muslim greeting he gives to her means “peace and happiness to you. ” This maybe ironic because their visit disturbs the peaceful lives of Maggie and Mama. The relationship between him and Dee is unknown. He may be a friend, a boyfriend, husband or spiritual adviser.Main content:The story begins when the mother and Maggie wait for Dee to come back home.Dee goes back home with her lover. She asks for some traditional household appliances, especially two old quilts made by their grandma. The mother refuses. Instead, she sends the two quilts to Maggie. Dee leaves angrily.In her eyes, two old quilts(百纳被) are the cultural heritage of blacks. Maggie inherits the black tradition and she should own them.The text:I. para1-2 The prelude: the three family members.II. Para3-16 The mother’s recollections / flashback:the three persons’relationships——mother; Maggie; DeeIII. Para17- 82 The process of Dee going back home.Detailed study of the text:Paragraph 1---16:Paragraph1:1,...Maggie and I made so clean and wavy...(wavy:波动起伏的。
高英讲课Everyday Use for your grandmama
在这炎热的天气，她以一种自认 为很非洲的传统造型出现在家人面前：
self-indulgence 、selfish
patient、 tolerant
（7）Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head…
(8)“You don‘t have to call me by it if you don’t want to,” …
（2）“ She‘s dead, ” Wangero said. “ I couldn’t bear
oitpapnryelsosnger, being named after the people who
me. ”
她认为迪伊这个名字是压迫他们的白人给的，但是实 际上这个代代相传的名字正是寄托了祖母对于后代传承 文化的期望，已经在某种意义上成为家族的文化遗产， 新的名字才与她真的毫无关联，使她与黑人文化脱节。
inheriting Africa
Mother seems to range between them, both Maggie’s
American culture
conservative, and quiet side and
Dee’s independence, strong side.
Everyday Use for your grandmama
(9)"I know it might sound awkward at first, " … "I'll g◆etIsusitead ktoinidt,"oIf scaoimd.p"rRomeaisme i?t out again." If is, why did they both compromise? (……)
(完整版)高级英语第七课课件第三版EverydayUseforYourGrandmama
Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaIn order to understand this passage better, we can watch a movie---”The Color of Purple”故事发生于1909年美国南部。
未受过教育的黑人女孩西莉被继父强奸后，又被迫嫁给了粗鲁，凶狠的黑人男子，西莉称其为“先生”。
在惊恐和胆怯中她开始了奴仆一般的痛苦生活。
幸而有亲姐妹南蒂与之相伴，泪水中才多了一些欢乐。
不久，这短暂的幸福也从西莉身边消失了。
因为“先生”强奸南蒂不成，恼羞成怒地将南蒂赶了出去，姐妹二人被残酷的分开。
年复一年，西莉在门口的邮筒中找寻南蒂的音讯，她始终期盼有一天能与南蒂再次重逢……(从中大家可以看到当时的整个社会的缩影，以及黑人生活的社会环境和社会地位，黑人女性的崛起和黑人女性的反抗精神也从有深刻得展现)Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaCharacters:Maggie: a shy,young woman made even more self-concious by scars she got in a house fire years ago. She hasn` t has much formal education but has learned traditional skills, such as quilting, from her familiy.Mama(Mrs johnson):the narrator of the story. She is a middle-aged or even older African American woman living with her younger daugter, Maggie. Athough poor, she is strong and independent, and takes great pride in her way of life.Dee(Wangero):Dee is Mama` s older daugher. She is attractive, well-educated and sophisticated. Moreover, she is selfish and she may even has caused the fire that disfigured （损毁···的外貌）her sister. Mama(Mrs johnson) called her Dee or Wangero.Asalamalakim: a young muslim man who accompanies Dee on her visit. Mama, unable to pronounce his name , called him “Hakim-a- Baber”. The muslim greeting he gives to her means “peace and happiness to you. ” This maybe ironic because their visit disturbs the peaceful lives of Maggie and Mama. The relationship between him and Dee is unknown. He may be a friend, a boyfriend, husband or spiritual adviser.Main content:The story begins when the mother and Maggie wait for Dee to come back home.Dee goes back home with her lover. She asks for some traditional household appliances, especially two old quilts made by their grandma. The mother refuses. Instead, she sends the two quilts to Maggie. Dee leaves angrily.In her eyes, two old quilts(百纳被) are the cultural heritage of blacks. Maggie inherits the black tradition and she should own them.The text:I. para1-2 The prelude: the three family members.II. Para3-16 The mother’s recollections / flashback:the three persons’relationships——mother; Maggie; DeeIII. Para17- 82 The process of Dee going back home.Detailed study of the text:Paragraph 1---16:Paragraph1:1,...Maggie and I made so clean and wavy...(wavy:波动起伏的。
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译Everyday_Use_for_your_grandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into abright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyes with a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation fromhigh school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. 1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school.Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister'shair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes her move. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call him Hakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said "Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed overGrandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down to make butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and startedrifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of Grandpa Jarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "These old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marriesJohn Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobody using 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to neve r winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee whotaught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
everyday use 外婆家的日用家当
Dee 则成了黑人权利运动的象征,复古寻根非洲文化的 先锋。其最大特点是摒弃美国黑人的文化传统,寻根于 非洲文化。她对家中一切物件的来历远不及Maggie 清 楚,表明对美国黑人文化传统的漠然与无知。
◆⑹"I can use the churn top as a centerpiece for the
alcove table,”… "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."
Dee的举动只是一种对黑人文化浮光掠影、粗浅庸俗的理解， 她只对文化的象征物品感兴趣，以为搜罗一些艺术品就是回 归文化，以为这样就可以赶上时尚的潮流，她并不清楚这些 物品蕴藏着厚重的文化历史内涵，而且它们也不能引起她感 情上的共鸣。
Thank you!
（2）“ She‘s dead, ” Wangero said. “ I couldn’t bear it any longer, being named after the people who
oppressme. ”
她认为迪伊这个名字是压迫他们的白人给的，但是实 际上这个代代相传的名字正是寄托了祖母对于后代传承 文化的期望，已经在某种意义上成为家族的文化遗产， 新的名字才与她真的毫无关联，使她与黑人文化脱节。
A dress down to the ground…yellows and oranges … Earrings gold… Bracelets dangling and making noises … Hair stands straight up …
在这炎热的天气，她以一种自认 为很非洲的传统造型出现在家人面前：
Now she neither belongs to her family anymore nor to
高级英语第七课 课件 第三版 Everyday Use for Your Grandmama
Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaIn order to understand this passage better, we can watch a movie---”The Color of Purple”故事发生于1909年美国南部。
未受过教育的黑人女孩西莉被继父强奸后，又被迫嫁给了粗鲁，凶狠的黑人男子，西莉称其为“先生”。
在惊恐和胆怯中她开始了奴仆一般的痛苦生活。
幸而有亲姐妹南蒂与之相伴，泪水中才多了一些欢乐。
不久，这短暂的幸福也从西莉身边消失了。
因为“先生”强奸南蒂不成，恼羞成怒地将南蒂赶了出去，姐妹二人被残酷的分开。
年复一年，西莉在门口的邮筒中找寻南蒂的音讯，她始终期盼有一天能与南蒂再次重逢……(从中大家可以看到当时的整个社会的缩影，以及黑人生活的社会环境和社会地位，黑人女性的崛起和黑人女性的反抗精神也从有深刻得展现)Everyday Use for Your GrandmamaCharacters:Maggie: a shy,young woman made even more self-concious by scars she got in a house fire years ago. She hasn` t has much formal education but has learned traditional skills, such as quilting, from her familiy.Mama(Mrs johnson):the narrator of the story. She is a middle-aged or even older African American woman living with her younger daugter, Maggie. Athough poor, she is strong and independent, and takes great pride in her way of life.Dee(Wangero):Dee is Mama` s older daugher. She is attractive, well-educated and sophisticated. Moreover, she is selfish and she may even has caused the fire that disfigured （损毁···的外貌）her sister. Mama(Mrs johnson) called her Dee or Wangero.Asalamalakim:a young muslim man who accompanies Dee on her visit. Mama, unable to pronounce his name , called him “Hakim-a- Baber”. The muslim greeting he gives to her means “peace and happiness to you. ” This maybe ironic because their visit disturbs the peaceful lives of Maggie and Mama. The relationship between him and Dee is unknown. He may be a friend, a boyfriend, husband or spiritual adviser.Main content:The story begins when the mother and Maggie wait for Dee to come back home.Dee goes back home with her lover. She asks for some traditional household appliances, especially two old quilts made by their grandma. The mother refuses. Instead, she sends the two quilts to Maggie. Dee leaves angrily.In her eyes, two old quilts(百纳被) are the cultural heritage of blacks. Maggie inherits the black tradition and she should own them.The text:I. para1-2 The prelude: the three family members.II. Para3-16 The mother’s recollections / flashback:the three persons’relationships——mother; Maggie; DeeIII. Para17- 82 The process of Dee going back home.Detailed study of the text:Paragraph 1---16:Paragraph1:1,...Maggie and I made so clean and wavy...(wavy:波动起伏的。
高级英语第三课Everyday-use-for-your-grandmama课件
词。其基本结构为：as+ adj./ adv. +as。 ❖ 例如： ❖ (1)This film is as interesting as that one.这部电影和那部电影一样有趣。 ❖ 其否定式为not as/so +adj./ adv. +as。例如： ❖ This dictionary is not as/so useful as you think.这本字典不如你想象的那样有用
(4)as far as He walked as far as the railway station yesterday evening.昨天傍晚，他 一直散步到火车站。
(5)as well as
2021/6/7 She cooks as well as her mother does.她烧菜烧得跟她母亲一样好。
9
王 I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches .
对我们的家史我大概能够追溯到南北战争之前 ❖ carry it back：. 运回；拿回；使回想；使回忆起
through ❖ prep.通过，穿过；经由；透过；凭借 ❖ adv.从头到尾；彻底；自始至终 ❖ adj.（电话）接通；通话完毕；有洞的；直达的 这里应该取它贯穿的意思，
❖ 如：slaming the door，she went out.关上门，她走了出去。这两个动作 都是同时的，但是句子主要是说她出去这个意义，并不想强调关门，所 以关门是伴随状语。这里伴随状语前置，按逗号来判断显然在此不行。
everyday_use_for_your_grandma概括
everyday use for your grandma概括1. 引言1.1 概述这篇长文的主题是“everyday use for your grandma”，即“为您的奶奶提供的日常用途”。
我们将探讨一些关于奶奶在日常生活中的使用方式和功能，希望能够向读者介绍一些有趣和实用的方法，让您的奶奶能够更好地享受生活。
1.2 文章结构本文将分为几个部分。
首先，我们会给出一个概述，对文章整体内容进行简单介绍。
接下来，我们会详细阐述每种用途，并列出其中的关键要点。
最后，我们将总结前文，并提出自己对于这些用途的观点和看法。
1.3 目的撰写这篇文章的目的是为了探索不同人群如何从以一种更多元化、创意而又具有实际价值的角度看待老年人生活中参与各种活动所带来种种乐趣及好处。
希望通过分享这些信息，能够鼓励更多人在日常生活中尊重、照顾好他们身边年长者，并且帮助到那些正在寻找给予自己爱护和关怀之捷径或是工具人们。
2. 正文在我们日常生活中，祖母的存在和作用是不可忽视的。
她们是家庭的支柱，传承家族的价值观和传统。
不仅如此，祖母们还有许多实用的功能，可以在我们生活中发挥重要的作用。
首先，祖母是最好的厨师之一。
她们经过多年的烹饪经验，能够熟练地制作各种美食。
无论是传统的家庭菜肴还是口味独特的特色菜肴，祖母总能给我们带来无比美味的食物。
她们掌握着那些只能通过口口相传而不能从书本上学习到的秘方和技巧。
因此，在大多数情况下我们都会向祖母寻求建议或者请求她们为我们做饭。
其次，祖母是陪伴与抚慰心灵的伙伴。
由于年岁渐长，祖母通常比较有耐心和智慧。
当我们遇到困难、挫折或失望时，她们总能以她们独特且珍贵的方式来安慰我们，并给出明智而有效的建议。
祖母无私的爱和关怀也成为我们逆境中稳定的依靠。
此外，祖母还是我们关于过去文化和历史的活教材。
她们通常具有丰富的人生经历和见识，并掌握着世上许多不同寻常的技能和知识。
通过与祖母交流，我们可以了解到过去时代的文化、价值观和传统习俗。
Everyday Use for your grandmama 题
课后题及答案Everyday Use for your grandmama I .（1)In real life the mother was a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands.（2)Dee like her mother to have a slender figure and a fair skin, glistening hair and a quick and witty tongue.3)When she meets a strange white man, she always avoids looking him in the eye and is ready to go away.4)Maggie is an innocent, timid and kind-hearted girl.5) Because they were more seriously looked down upon by white men at that time, and they were not as awaken as they are today.6)Because Dee doesn't like her friends to see the poor state her family is in, which she thinks is shameful. This tells us that Dee is somewhat a snob. Another instance to prove this is that she wants nice things.7)Because it was old and stitched by hand instead of by machine. So that she could use them for decoration showing to the people she was associated with.8)Maggie wanted the quilt because she could remember her grandma better, who taught her to do needle work.9)Because she wanted to get some valuable heritages of the family, mainly out of her vanity.10)At first the mother liked Dee because of her beauty, taste, and education. But with the development of the story, her love was transferred to a dislike because of Dee's egotism, which was obviously revealed when she insisted on taking the quilts while her sister Maggie gave up keeping it willingly to satisfy her desire.11)It's implied that the story is written in honor of the grandma mentioned in it and that the ordinary old thing may be something precious for the young.Ⅱ.1)She thinks that her sister has a firm control of her life.2)She could always have anything she wanted, and life was extremely generous to her.3)The popular TV talk show star, Johnny Carson, who is famous for his witty and glib tongue, has to try hard if he wants to catch up with me.4)It seems to me that I have talked to them always ready to leave as quickly as possible.5)She imposed on us lots of falsity.6)imposed on us a lot of knowledge that is totally useless to us7)She is not bright just as she is neither good-looking rich.8)Dee wore a very long dress even on such a hot day.9)You can see me trying to move my body a couple of seconds before I finally manage to push myself up.10)Soon he knows that won't do for Maggie, so he stops trying to shake hands with Maggie.11)As I see Dee is getting tired of this, I don't want to go on either. In fact, I could have traced it far back before the Civil War along the branches of the family tree.12)Now and then he and Dee communicated through eye contact in a secretive way.13)If Maggie put the old quilts on the bed, they would be in rags less than five years.14)She knew this was God's arrangement.Ⅲ. See the translation of the text.IV.1)inelegant2)a stupid person/a simpleton3)tightly curled4)expressed or worded well/felicitous5)say (used to describe dialogue)6)as if shake hands in a fancy and elaborate way7)I knew you couldn't trace it further back8)mispronounced, failed to pronounce it correctly9)people who bred and fatten cattle for meat10)talked much and rapidlyV.1)Dee, however, is not like me.2)I could never carry a tune.3)It was like the reaction you have when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your foot on the road.4)Dee comes out of the car next. She is wearing a dress long enough to touch the ground, in spite of this hot weather.5)Her earrings are gold，too，and they are hanging down to her shoulders．6)"No，Mama，”she says "My name is not Dee now，it has changed into Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!”7)“Why shouldn't I call you by your new name?'’8)Those people were always too busy：…9)"Did Uncle Buddy whittle that one, too?” aske d the barber．10)“Imagine that she did all the stitching by hand!” she breathed again，clutching them to her bosom．Ⅵ．1)…my complexion had a smooth and creamy texture．2)…uncomfortably and nervously，wanting to get away as soon as possible．3)…the q uick and great humor that would make everybody laugh immediately．4)He wasted no time in marrying a contemptible city girl from a family of ignorant ostentatious and vulgar people．5)…move her feet in great discomfort．6)"Maggie's brain is very slow，”Wangero said, laughing．7)…slightly sunken areas．8)"Mama，”Wangero said in an extremely sweet voice．9)She breathed suddenly in painful surprise．10)For us colored people。
Everyday_Use_for_your_grandmama_全文翻译
高级英语第一册lesson4 Everyday Use for your grandmama全文翻译第四课外婆锝日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔我就在这院子里等候她的到来。
我和麦姬昨天下午已将院子打扫得干干净净，地面上还留着清晰的扫帚扫出的波浪形痕迹，这样的院子比一般人想象的要舒服，它不仅仅是一个院子，简直就像一间扩大了的客厅。
当院子的泥土地面被打扫得像屋里的地板一样干净，四周边缘的细沙面上布满不规则的细纹时，任何人都可以进来坐一下，一边抬头仰望院中的榆树，一边等着享受从来吹不进屋内的微风。
麦姬在她姐姐离去之前将会一直心神不定：她将会神情沮丧地站在角落里，一面为自己的丑陋面孔和胳膊大腿上晒出的累累疤痕而自惭形秽，一面怀着既羡慕又敬畏的心情怯生生地看着她姐姐。
她觉得她姐姐真正是生活的主人，想要什么便能得到什么，世界还没有学会对她说半个“不”字。
你一定从电视片上看到过“闯出了江山”的儿女突然出乎意料地出现在那跌跌撞撞从后台走出来的父母面前的场面。
（当然，那场面必定是令人喜悦的：假如电视上的父母和儿女之间相互攻击辱骂，他们该怎么样呢？）在电视上，母亲和儿女见面总是相互拥抱和微笑。
有时父母会痛哭流涕，而那发迹了的孩子就会紧紧地拥抱他们，并隔着桌子伸过头来告诉他们说若没有他们的帮助，她自己就不会有今日的成就。
我自己就看过这样的电视节目。
有时候我在梦里梦见迪伊和我突然成了这种电视节目的剧中人。
我从一辆黑色软座垫大轿车上一下来，立刻被人引进一间宽敞明亮的屋子里。
屋里有许多人，其中一个身材高大威武，满面微笑，有点像著名电视节目主持人约翰尼.卡森的美男子迎上来和我握手，并对我说我养了个好女儿。
然后，我们来到台前，迪伊热泪盈眶地拥抱着我，还把一朵大大的兰花别在我的衣服上，尽管她曾对我说过兰花是很低级的花。
在现实生活中，我是一个大块头、大骨架的妇女，有着干男人活儿的粗糙双手。
冬天睡觉时我穿着绒布睡衣，白天身穿套头工作衫。
我能像男人一样狠狠地宰猪并收拾干净。