《紐約時報》每年都在高三學生中公開徵集關注金錢、工作或者階層的大學申請文書。在今年海量投稿中，有幾篇文書脫穎而出。今天文章裡推送喬納森阿巴比的申請文書。他來自明尼蘇達州布萊恩市高中，計劃就讀於明尼蘇達大學。
‘The professors’ home was a telescope to how the other (more affluent) half lived’
“教授們的家是一架望遠鏡，可以觀察富裕的另外一半人是如何生活。”
At age 6, I remember the light filled openness of the house, how the whir of my mother’s vacuum floated from room to room. At 9, I remember how I used to lounge on the couch and watch Disney cartoons on the sideways refrigerator of a TV implanted in a small cave in the wall. At 12, I remember family photographs of the Spanish countryside hanging in every room. At 14, I remember vacuuming each foot of carpet in the massive house and folding pastel shirts fresh out of the dryer.
六歲的時候，我記得陽光灑滿房間，媽媽在用吸塵器打掃衛生，嗡嗡的聲音從一個房間飄向另外一個房間。九歲的時候，我記得自己懶洋洋地躺在沙發上，觀看迪斯尼動畫片，電視機擺在側放著的冰箱上，嵌在牆裡的小洞中。十二歲的時候，我記得每間房子裡都懸掛著在西班牙院子裡拍攝的全家福。十四歲的時候，我記得用吸塵器打掃大房間裡的每寸地毯，把從烘乾機裡剛剛取出的淡色襯衣疊得整整齊齊。
I loved the house. I loved the way the windows soaked the house with light, a sort of bleach against any gloom. I loved how I could always find a book or magazine on any flat surface.
我喜歡房子。我喜歡陽光透過窗戶浸滿房間，照亮每個陰暗的地方。我喜歡隨處可以找到平放的書刊。
But the vacuum my mother used wasn’t ours. We never paid for cable. The photographs weren’t of my family. The carpet I vacuumed I only saw once a week, and the pastel shirts I folded I never wore. The house wasn’t mine. My mother was only the cleaning lady, and I helped.
然而，我們沒有媽媽使用的吸塵器，我們從來不繳有線電視費，我們沒有那張全家福，我用吸塵器清潔的地毯其實每週只能見到一次，我摺疊得整整齊齊的淡色襯衣從來都沒有穿過。那不是我家的房子。媽媽只是保潔員，而我是她的幫手。
My mother and father had come as refugees almost twenty years ago from the country of Moldova. My mother worked numerous odd jobs, but once I was born she decided she needed to do something different. She put an ad in the paper advertising house cleaning, and a couple, both professors, answered. They became her first client, and their house became the bedrock of our sustenance. Economic recessions came and went, but my mother returned every Monday, Friday and occasional Sunday.
近二十年前，我的爸爸媽媽，作為難民，從摩爾多瓦農村來到這裡。媽媽打過很多零工。但我出生以後，她決定有必要改弦易轍。她在報紙上刊登房屋清潔的廣告，然後有對教授夫妻做出迴應。他們成為媽媽的第一家客戶，他們的房屋也成為我們生計的基礎。經濟時好時壞，但媽媽在每週一、週五，偶爾也在週日，都要返回這裡。
She spends her days in teal latex gloves, guiding a blue Hoover vacuum over what seems like miles of carpet. All the mirrors she’s cleaned could probably stack up to be a minor Philip Johnson skyscraper. This isn’t new for her. The vacuums and the gloves might be, but the work isn’t. In Moldova, her family grew gherkins and tomatoes. She spent countless hours kneeling in the dirt, growing her vegetables with the care that professors advise their protégés, with kindness and proactivity. Today, the fruits of her labor have been replaced with the suction of her vacuum.
媽媽整天帶著青膠手套，握著藍色胡佛牌吸塵器，清潔似乎有幾英里長的地毯。她擦過的鏡子疊起來，可能就像菲利普-約翰遜設計的小型摩天大廈一樣高。這對媽媽來說並非新鮮事物。手套和吸塵器或許是，但工作卻不是。早在摩爾多瓦，她孃家種植小黃瓜和西紅柿。她就常常跪在土裡，像教授們建議弟子們的那樣，小心翼翼、無微不至、積極主動地種植她的蔬菜。現在，她勞動的果實變成了吸塵器的吸力。
The professors’ home was a telescope to how the other (more affluent) half lived. They were rarely ever home, so I saw their remnants: the lightly crinkled New York Times sprawled on the kitchen table, the overturned, half-opened books in their overflowing personal library, the TV consistently left on the National Geographic channel. I took these remnants as a celebrity-endorsed path to prosperity. I began to check out books from the school library and started reading the news religiously.
教授們的家是一架望遠鏡，可以觀察富裕的另外一半人是如何生活。他們很少著家，所以我看到的是他們丟在房間裡的東西：廚房桌子上平躺著微皺的《紐約時報》、汗牛充棟的私家書齋裡倒放著半開的圖書、電視機常常停留在《國家地理》頻道。我把他們丟下的這些東西視為名人背書的成功之道。我開始從校圖書館借書，開始虔誠地閱讀新聞。
Their home was a sanctuary for my dreams. It was there I, as a glasses-wearing computer nerd, read about a mythical place called Silicon Valley in Bloomberg Businessweek magazines. It was there, as a son of immigrants, that I read about a young senator named Barack Obama, the child of an immigrant, aspiring to be the president of the United States. The life that I saw through their home showed me that an immigrant could succeed in America, too. Work could be done with one’s hands and with one’s mind. It impressed on me a sort of social capital that I knew could be used in America. The professors left me the elements to their own success, and all my life I’ve been trying to make my own reaction.
教授們的家是我夢想的聖殿。在那裡，我這個戴著眼鏡的計算機迷，在《彭博商業週刊》上看到一個叫硅谷的神祕地方。在那裡，我這個移民的兒子，讀到年輕的參議員巴拉克-奧巴馬——他也是移民的孩子——立志成為美國總統。我透過教授家看到的人生，向我展示移民也可以在美國取得成功。用手用腦是可以把工作做好的。這是我所知道的在美國可以利用的某種社會資本，這令我印象非常深刻。教授們給我留下他們自己成功的要素，而我將終生努力做出自己的迴應。
Ultimately, the suction of the vacuum is what sustains my family. The squeal of her vacuum reminds me why I have the opportunity to drive my squealing car to school. I am where I am today because my mom put an enormous amount of labor into the formula of the American Dream. It’s her blue Hoover vacuums that hold up the framework of my life. Someday, I hope my diploma can hold up the framework of hers.
從根本上說，吸塵器的吸力是我家的生計。媽媽所用吸塵器的噪音，提醒我為什麼自己有機會可以開著發出同樣噪音的汽車去念書。我今天之所以能夠走到這裡，都是因為媽媽在美國夢的配方中付出大量勞動。正是她的藍色胡佛牌吸塵器支撐起我的生活架構。有一天，我希望能夠拿著自己的畢業證，支撐起她的生活架構。