父亲还是我孩提时记得的模样:脸色黑里透红,目光炯炯有神,一头浓发更使他仪表堂堂。不过,他现在比过去温和耐心多了。当初可不。也不知道是谁起了变化,是他还是我?我和儿子马修乘飞机去亚利桑那州看望父亲,67岁的父亲调好吉他给孙子弹奏。我和父亲曾格格不入,剑拔弩张。那是成长时期的儿子与父亲常有的“敌对”。我孩提时父亲常不在家。他是个送奶工,每周工作七天。即便外出,他也是个缺席监工。我们在家犯的错误被一一记着,晚上回家他再找我们算账,但也不过是口头威胁或责骂。有一次,我和几个朋友把学校停车场的栅栏埋在柴堆里,准备用来烧一年一度的篝火,庆祝返校节。我们恨这些栅栏,因为它们挡着我们,只有等公共汽车走完之后,我们才能乘自 His father or my childhood reminded me look like: his face through the dark red, bright eyes, a thick hair makes him dignified. However, he is now more patient and patient than before. Not at the beginning. Do not know who changed, is he or me? Matthew and my son fly to Arizona to visit his father, 67-year-old father tune the guitar to his grandson playing. My father and I have been out of tune, daggers. That is often the “adversarial” son and father who grew up. When I was a kid my father was not at home. He is a milkman and works seven days a week. He was also a missed supervisor even when going out. The mistakes we made at home were remembered one by one, and when he came home at night, he found us again, but it was merely a verbal threat or scolding. On one occasion, I and a few friends buried the fences of the school parking lot in a pyre of wood, ready to burn the annual bonfire and celebrate the return of school day. We hate these fences because they block us and we can only take the bus after we have finished