Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The sight of him walking alone down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp1 from a bullet wound received in WWII. Watching him, we worried that, although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown2 neighborhood with its ever-increasing random3 violence, gangs4, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer5 at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming6 manner. Without fanfare7, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened.He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate8 him, he simply asked, “Would you like a drink from the hose?”
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, “Yeah, sure,” with a malevolent9 little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily10 over the ground, dousing11 everything in its way, Carl's assailants12 stole his retirement watch and his wallet, then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg.
He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. “Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?” the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. “Just some punk13 kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday.” His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, “Carl, what are you doing?”
“I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately,” came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel14. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before, their threat was unchallenged15. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched16 the hose from his hand and drenched17 him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation18 of him, they sauntered19 off down the street, throwing catcalls20 and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity21 of what they had just done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing22, he turned to see his summer tormentors' 23 tall leader reaching down for him.
He braced24 himself for the expected attack. “Don't worry, old man. I'm not gonna hurt you this time.” The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed25 and scarred hand to Carl.
As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled26 bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl.
“What's this?” Carl asked.
“It's your stuff,” the man explained. “It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet.”
“I don't understand,” Carl said. “Why would you help me now?”
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease27. “I learned something from you”, he said. “I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate.” He stopped for a moment. “I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back.”
He paused for another awkward28 moment, not knowing what more there was to say. “That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out29, I guess.” And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly30 opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride who still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
Carl died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular, the minister noticed a tall young man he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed31 tears, he said, “Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden.”
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: “Person needed to care for Carl's garden.” The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners32 until one day a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. “I believe this is my job, if you'll have me,” the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, “Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him.”
The young man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. During that period, he went to college, was married, and became a prominent33 member of the community34. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he could no longer care for the garden. He explained with a shy and happy smile, “My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday.”
“Well, congratulations!” said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. “That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?”
“Carl,” he replied.
卡尔是一个沉默的人，寡言少语。他遇见人总是面带笑容紧紧握住人家的手，算是打招呼。我们毗邻而居已经50多年了，即使如此还没有谁敢说很了解卡尔。
卡尔退休以前，每天早晨都乘公共汽车去上班。每每看到他独自一人走在街上的时候，我们常常为他担心。因为，在二战中，一颗子弹打伤了他的一条腿，使他至今走起路来仍有点儿跛。看着他，我们都担心尽管他从二战中死里逃生，但在如今我们这个暴力、帮派活动、贩毒日益猖獗的居民区里他却未必能熬得过去。
有一天，他看到我们当地教堂里有一份征求志愿者照料牧师住宅区后花园的布告。他以自己惯有方式，没有四处招摇悄悄地低调报了名。
此后，他一直很好。但是，到他87岁那年，我们一直担心的事情终于发生了。那天，他刚给花园浇完水，就看见有3个不良少年向他靠了过来。他故意装作视而不见他们那威胁性的企图，只是问道：“你们想从水管里喝点水吗？”
“是的，当然。”三个人中个子最高、身体最强壮的家伙不怀好意地笑着说。当卡尔把水管递给他的时候，另外两个家伙却乘势抓住了卡尔的胳膊，把他摔倒在地。他手中拿着的水管也摇摇晃晃地掉在了地上。顿时地上的一切都浸泡在了水里。袭击他的那三个家伙抢走了他退休时发的手表和他的钱包，逃走了。卡尔想试着自己站起来，可他摔着了那条伤腿.
牧师跑过来帮他的时候，他正躺在那里，想要聚集全身的力气站起来。尽管刚才牧师从窗户里看到了卡尔被袭击，但是，他却赶不及阻止他们。“卡尔，你感觉怎么样？你受伤了吗？”牧师一边扶卡尔站起来，一边不停地问道。
卡尔一只手抚摸着额头，叹息着摇摇头，说：“哎，只是一些年幼无知的孩子。我希望他们有朝一日能有所悔悟。”湿透的衣服紧紧地裹在他那瘦弱的身躯上，他一边说一边弯腰捡起水管，调节好龙头，又开始浇花了。
牧师感到非常纳闷，于是略带一些关心地问道：“卡尔，你在干什么？”
“哦，我必须给花儿浇透水。最近天气非常干燥。”他平静地答道。知道卡尔没事了，牧师放心了，只不过感到非常惊异。卡尔简直就像是来自他时代的外星人.
几个星期之后，那三个少年又来了。就像上次一样，他们的威胁恐吓没有遭到任何反抗。卡尔再次邀请他们从他的水管里喝水。
这次，他们没有抢劫他。他们从卡尔手里抢过水管，用那冰凉的水把他从头到脚浇透了。他们羞辱完卡尔，便尖叫着，咒骂着，东倒西歪地互相搀扶着，顺着街道扬长而去，一边还为他们刚才的“胡闹”大笑不已。
卡尔只是默默地看着他们，随后转过身，迎着温暖的阳光，拾起水管，继续浇花。
转眼，夏去秋来。一天，当卡尔正在花园里松土的时候，突然有一个人来到了他身后，让他吃了一惊。他被绊了一下，跌倒在一些常青植物的枝叶上。当他挣扎着想站起来的时候，却看到那个曾在夏天伤害过他的三人中的高个子头目正弯腰靠近他。
他支撑住身体等着再次被袭击。“老人家，别担心！这次我不会伤害你的。”年轻人一边温和地说，一边还把他那布满文身和伤疤的手伸向卡尔。
他扶着卡尔站起来后，就从自己的衣兜里拽出一个皱巴巴的包，递给卡尔。
“这是什么？”卡尔问。
“这是您的东西，”年轻人解释道，“您的东西物归原主。您的钱还在钱包里。”
“我不明白，”卡尔问道，“为什么现在你会帮助我？”
年轻人挪了挪脚，看上去非常窘迫不安。“我从您这儿学到了很多东西，”他说,“过去，我和那帮人混在一起，到处去伤害像您这样的人。我们之所以选择您，是因为您年龄大，而且我们知道我们根本不用费什么劲。但是，每当我们对您做过那些不义之事后，您不但没有大喊大叫还击我们，还给我们水喝。您没有因为我们对您的不义而憎恨我们，您总是向我们展示您的宽宏大量！”他停了一会儿，继续说，“自从我们抢了您的东西以后，我每天都睡不好觉，所以我现在把它还给您。”
他尴尬地又停了一下，不知道还要说些什么。“我想，还给您这个包是表示我对您的感谢，因为是您让我改邪归正。”说完，他就沿着街道远去了。
卡尔看着手中的包，小心翼翼地打开了它。他拿出那块退休时发的手表，戴回手腕上。他打开钱包，找到了他的结婚照片。他凝视着照片上那年轻的新娘，她依旧像多年前那样笑着看他。
就在那年圣诞节后一个寒冷的冬日，卡尔去世了。虽然天气寒冷，但是许多人都参加了他的葬礼。不仅如此，牧师还注意到有一个他不认识的高个子年轻人正静静地坐在教堂一个偏僻的角落里。牧师把卡尔的花园当作生活中的一课告诉人们。他强忍着眼中的泪水，嗓音沙哑地说：“让我们尽自己最大的努力，把各自的花园浇灌得更加美丽。我们永远不会忘记卡尔和他的花园！”
第二年春天，教堂里又贴了一张布告，上面写着：“急需一名志愿者前来照料卡尔的花园。”来做礼拜的人都忙忙碌碌的，因此这张布告一直都没有引起人们的注意。直到有一天，有人敲响了牧师办公室的门。牧师打开门，看到一双满是伤疤和文身的手正拿着那张布告。“我想，这就是我想要的工作，如果您接受我的话。”那个年轻人说。
牧师立刻就认出他就是那个把抢走的手表和钱包还给卡尔的年轻人。他知道正是卡尔的善良改变了此人的生活。于是，牧师拿出花园小屋的钥匙递给他，说：“去吧，好好照顾卡尔的花园，好好保持他的荣誉。”
于是，这个年轻人走进了卡尔的花园。在那以后的几年里，他始终尽心尽责照顾着花园里的一草一木，就像卡尔以前做的那样。在这期间，他读了大学，结了婚，而且成为社区里的一名杰出人士。尽管如此，他始终都没有忘记许给卡尔的诺言，自始至终尽力把花园保持得像想象中卡尔所能保持的那样美丽。
有一天，他走到新来的牧师跟前说今后不能再照顾花园了。他面带幸福的微笑，羞涩地解释道：“昨天晚上，我妻子刚刚生了个男婴，星期六她就要把宝宝带回家了。”
“噢，恭喜你！”牧师一边说一边接过花园小屋的钥匙。“太好了！孩子叫什么名字？”
“卡尔。”他答道。
1. limp [limp] n. 跛行
2. uptown adj. 住宅区的
3. random adj. 任意的，随便的
4. gang n. （一）伙，（一）群
5. flyer n. （广告）传单
6. unassuming adj. 谦逊的，不装腔作势的
7. fanfare n. 吹牛
8. intimidate v. 威胁
9. malevolent adj. 有恶意的
10. crazily adv. 疯子似地
11. douse v. 弄湿
12. assailant n. 攻击者
13. punk n. 小流氓，小阿飞
14. marvel v. 大为惊异，觉得惊奇
15. unchallenged adj. 未受到挑战的
16. wrench v. 猛扭，猛拧
17. drench v. 浸湿，使湿透
18. humiliation n. 羞辱
19. saunter v. 闲逛，漫步
20. catcall n. 尖叫声，嘘声
21. hilarity n. 欢闹
22. footing n. 站稳
23. tormentor n. 折磨者，使人痛苦（或烦恼）的人
24. brace v. 支住，撑牢
25. tattoo v. 文身，刺青
26. crumple v. 弄皱，压皱
27. ill at ease 局促不安
28. awkward adj. 局促不安的，尴尬的
29. straighten out （使）改正，（使）好转
30. gingerly adv. 小心翼翼地，慎重地
31. unshed adj. 未流出的
32. parishioner n. 教区居民
33. prominent adj. 卓越的，突出的
34. community n. 社区