The Circus
Once, when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter.
This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn’t have a lot of money.
Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night.
One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives. The father and mother were at the head of the pack, standing proud as could be.
The mother was holding her husband’s hand, looking up at him as if to say, “You’re my knight in shining armor.”
He was smiling and basking in pride, looking back at her as if to reply, “You got that right.”
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, “Please let me buy eight children’s tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus.”
The ticket lady quoted the price. The man’s wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, and his lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, “How much did you say?”
The ticket lady again quoted the price. The man didn’t have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn’t have enough money to take them to the circus? Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!)
My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket.”
The man knew what was going on. He wasn’t begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad’s eyes, took my dad’s hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear running down his cheek, he replied, “Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family.”
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn’t go to the circus that night, but we didn’t go without.
父亲之间的默契
在我十多岁的时候，有一次父亲带我去看马戏团表演。当时排队买票的队伍很长。等了好长时间，终于我们前面只剩下一家人了。
这一家子给我的印象极深。他们有8个孩子，年龄估计都在12岁以下。显然这不会是一个富裕之家。
他们衣着并不华贵，但也整洁体面。孩子们十分乖巧听话，两两一排，手牵手地排在双亲的身后。他们正兴高采烈、叽叽喳喳地讨论着马戏团里的小丑，大象等等。
凭感觉，这群孩子还从未看过马戏。所以，那可能是他们过得最精彩的一天。他们的父母亲排在最前面，昂首挺胸地站着。
那位母亲牵着丈夫的手，抬头看着他的脸，好像在说：“你就是那穿着闪亮盔甲、保护我的骑士。”
那位父亲微笑着，满脸自豪地看着妻子，像是在回答：“你说对了。”
售票小姐问他想买多少张票。他得意地回答说：“请给我八张儿童票和两张成人票，我要带上全家去看马戏团。”
随后，售票小姐报了价钱。但那位母亲突然松开了握住丈夫的手，低下了头。而那位父亲的嘴唇开始颤抖起来，他往前靠了靠，问道：“你刚才说多少钱？”
售票小姐重复了一遍价格。他不够钱。
但是他要如何告诉那8个孩子说，他不够钱让他们去看马戏呢？这时，我父亲把手伸进了衣袋，掏出一张20美元，扔到了地上。（我们绝不是什么有钱人！）
接着，爸爸弯下身又捡起了那张钞票，拍了拍前面那位父亲的肩膀，说：“对不起，先生，这是从你口袋里掉出来的。”
这位先生马上领会了其中的含义。他并不是在乞求施舍，但绝对会感激在这种绝望、伤心和尴尬的窘境向他伸出援手的人。他凝视着爸爸的眼睛，双手握着爸爸的手，攥紧了手里的那20美元。他的嘴唇又颤抖起来，一滴眼泪从脸颊滑落，他回答道，“谢谢，谢谢你，先生。您帮了我和我的全家一个大忙。”
最后，我和父亲开车折回了家。虽然那天晚上没有去成马戏团，但是我们却没有白跑一趟。
