美国雪天的乐

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美国雪天的乐


　　下雪的早晨令人浮想联翩。无论这下落的白絮给上下班的人们带来多大不便，
多数醒来就见到白雪的北美人都会感到一种难以名状的兴奋，这种感觉源自童年时
代在家中兴奋等待的一幕戏：今天还上不上学？

　　在美国和加拿大，多数学生住得离学校很远，在市郊和农村的学生由黄色的大
校车接送他们。只要地面上有了几英寸的雪，学校的督导就必须决定当天还开不开
课。父母们打开收音机，焦急地等着听当地电台播放有关学校停课的通知。有时候
你会感受到整个地区教师与督导们的焦虑：先是某一所学校给电台打进电话说停课，
几分钟以后又有一所，然后又有两三所，最后，当十几所学校都打来电话告知他们
的决定后，不愿意停课的学校的阵营就土崩瓦解了。于是欢呼声响彻在孩子们的早
餐桌上：今天不上学喽！

　　说起我在北京这些年里所下的雪，我必须承认，真是小得很，最多也就是3英寸
厚。到美国北部上学的北京人往往会对所见到的深得多的雪而感吃惊：一场几小时
的雪下过，地面就积起一英尺厚的雪，这是很常见的，由此使得交通陷入到车辆刹
不住闸以及抛锚熄火的恶梦中。在很多冬天里，暴风雪往往是一场接着一场地袭来，
并堆积起厚厚的未溶的雪。我还记得1978年那场让人乐疯了的暴风雪，从波士顿到
华盛顿之间的所有城镇都被罩在一米深的雪“被”下，整整三天一切商务和交通都
停顿了。那时在我所住的小城里，人们在大街上滑雪玩。那种实际上对人并没有什
么伤害，或者没有对很多人造成伤害的天灾，确实有着某种奇妙的魅力。

　　在加拿大和美国的大部分地区，准备过冬是件须认真对待的事。汽车上的普通
轮胎要换成“雪地胎”，这种胎上有深深的凹槽（有时还有钉），可帮助车驶过冰
雪地面。很多人会在家里安上双层玻璃的防寒窗，以减少冬季的取暖费用。还需要
买新的宽宽的雪铲；作为锄草机冬季同族的吹雪机，也必须检查停当。在雪片开始
降下的一刹那，公路管理者就绷紧了神经，等着开动扫雪机的信号，以保证交通在
各种情况下都通畅，除非是在最恶劣的情况下才作罢。当地的政治家们都知道，如
果不能及时清扫道路并使其畅通，就意味着在下次竞选时可能失掉自己的职位。

　　对于东方人来说，冬天只须略加关注便可；而对于西方人，冬天有时却是实实
在在的威胁。我曾在南达科他州我祖父的农场度过一段童年时光，那里是一片开阔
的平原，有很多很多的牛，人却很少，大都住在各自的农舍，彼此相距数英里。那
里的冬天非常严酷：我记得最冷时的气温是零下40摄氏度（这很好记，同时也是零
下40华氏度），所幸是那时没刮风；而夏天最热的天气是气温竟达47．5摄氏度的那
可恶的三天。其间还有数次龙卷风。

　　达科他地区的冬天不一定下很大的雪，但是雪被大风一吹，不大的雪就变成了
可怕的看不清路的雪暴，房屋与树木很快就被随风滚来的雪浪吞没。当人们从这样
的雪暴中铲出通路走出来时（铲雪有时会用上好几天，农民们常常需要人把他们从
厚厚的雪层中救出来），总喜欢指点着远处：饥饿的鹿爬上了雪堆，啃咬着为数极
少的树木的高端枝杈。这些雪暴以及长期的严寒对于不冬眠的野生动物是极为严酷
的。就像很多农民所做的那样，我的祖父也常常同情那些饥饿的野鸡，把玉米和小
米撒在外面，让它们和其他鸟类来吃。

　　有一次我们经过相邻的怀俄明州，当时四周远近都没有人家，正赶上了一场很
小的雪。没有问题，我想，我们在车里很安全。之后，当起了风、可见度变为零时，
我注意到，雪片儿一个劲儿地往玻璃四周的橡胶密封条下面钻。当然，后备箱里有
毛毯，但是，当时如果汽车熄了火，我们很快就会落得个冻死的下场，就像每年春
天发现的冻死的牛以及偶然也有的人的冻尸那样。

　　?A snowy morning is a theatre of memory. No matter how
inconvenient all the falling white stuff is for commuters, most 　　
North Americans who wake up to snow feel a strange elation born of 　
that household drama of their childhood: Will there be school today 　
or not?

　　?Since most children in America and Canada live far from their
schools, large yellow schoolbuses ferry them back and forth in the
suburbs and countryside. As soon as more than a few inches of snow 　
are on the ground, school superintendants must decide whether to 　　
call off school for the day. Parents tune in to the local radio
stations to listen anxiously for announcements of school cancellations.
Sometimes you can sense teachers and superintendants panicking 　
across a region: First one school will call in to say school is off,
then a few minutes later another, then a couple more and finally
resistance caves in as dozens of schools telephone their decisions.
Jubilation 　at the breakfast table: NO SCHOOL TODAY! In my years
in Beijing the snowfalls, I must say, have been puny, three inches at
most. Beijingers who study in the northern US are often taken aback by
the 　much 　deeper snow they encounter there: It's common for a foot 　
of snow to fall in the course of a few hours, turning traffic into a 　
nightmare 　of sliding and stalling cars. Many winters feature storm
after storm, with a great piling up of unmelted snow. I remember one
insanely delightful snowstorm in 1978 that shut down everything from
Boston to Washington for three days under a meter of snow. People were
skiing through the streets of the small city where I was living at the
time. There is something wonderful about a catastrophe that doesn't
actually seem to hurt anyone, or not many people, anyway. Preparing
for winter is a serious matter in large parts of Canada and the US.
Normal tires must be replaced with \"snow tires\" that, thanks to their 　
deeper 　　grooves (and sometimes their studs), help cars to move over
ice and snow. Many people put insulating \"storm windows\" on their
houses so as to cut their winter heating bills. New snow shovels need
to be bought; snow blowers, the winter cousins of lawn mowers, must be
checked out. And the moment the flakes start to fall, the road crews
are on alert for the signal to man the snowplows that keep traffic
moving in all but the worst weather. Local politicians know that
failure to keep roads plowed and open is likely to cost them their jobs
come election time.

　　?For easterners winter is a cause of mild concern; for westerners
it can still be a very real threat. I spent part of my childhood on my
grandparents? farm in South Dakota, an open plain inhabited by many
many cows and very few people, most of them on individual family
farmsteads scattered every few miles. Here the weather is 　extreme:
The coldest winter day I remember was -40℃　 (easy to remember: it's
also -40℃F!), fortunately windless; the hottest summer weather was
three infernal days with temperatures of 47.5℃punctuated by tornadoes.


　　?Winters in Dakota are not necessarily very snowy, but the snow 　
is blown about by fierce winds that can churn even a modest snowfall
into a terrific blinding blizzard. Buildings and trees are quickly
buried in snowdrifts. 　After digging out from one of 　　these storms
　　　(it 　may take days, and farmers often have to be rescued from
under mounds of snow), people like to point to where hungry deer have
been climbing the drifts to nibble the upper branches of the few trees.
These blizzards and long spells of extreme cold are very hard on any
wildlife that isn't hibernating. Like many farmers, my grandfather
would often take pity on the starving pheasants and throw maize and
millet out for them and the other birds.

　　?Once as we were crossing the neighboring state of 　　Wyoming -
we were very much in the middle of nowhere - we were caught by some
fairly light snow. No problem, I thought, we?re safe in our car. 　
Then as the wind picked up and visibility fell to zero, 　I noticed
that snowflakes were being driven right under the insulating rubber
around the windows. We had blankets in the trunk, to be sure, 　but 　
if the car had broken down we might easily have wound up as frozen 　　
as the cattle carcasses and occasional human corpses that turn up 　
every spring.