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1、Unit 9 How I Found My VoiceJames Earl Jones1 Today I am known for my voice as much as for my acting. It has been my good fortune to receive jobs such as the speaking role of Darth Vader in George Lucass Star Wars trilogy and the voice-over announcer for CNN cable television. I also narrated Aaron Co
2、plands Lincoln Portrait on a compact disc I recorded with the Seattle Symphony. Perhaps my greatest honor came when I was asked to read the New Testament on tape.2 But it took a long time to believe such good things could happen to me. When I was a youngster I stuttered so badly I was completely una
3、ble to speak in public. 3 Since I was eight Id had trouble speaking. It was so bad that whenever I stood up in class to read, the other kids snickered and laughed. I always sat down, my face burning with shame.4 Im not sure what caused my stuttering. Perhaps it was an emotional problem. I was born i
4、n Arkabutla, Mississippi, and when I was about five, I moved to live with my grandparents on their farm near Dublin in northern Michigan. It was traumatic moving from the warm, easy ways of catfish country to the harsh climate of the north, where people seemed so different.5 Fortunately, my granddad
5、dy was a gentleman, a farmer who taught me to love the land. He was short and he had a prodigious amount of energy. He even built a church to please grandmother, a fervent worshiper of the Lord. All sorts of people were invited to our little church; white, black and American Indian came together in
6、a nondenominational fellowship. Granddads Irish heritage came out in his love for language; during the week he used “everyday talk”, but on Sunday he spoke only the finest English.6 As much as I admired his fluency, I couldnt come close to it. I finally quit Sunday school and church, not wanting to
7、be humiliated any more. All through my grade school years, the only way the teacher could assess my progress was for me to write down everything I had learned.7 Oh, I could talk, all right. Our farm animals knew that. I found it easy to call the pigs, tell the dogs to round up the cows, and vent my
8、feelings to Fanny, the horse whose big brown eyes and lifted ears seemed to express interest in all I said. But when visitors came and I was asked to say hello, I could only stand, pound my feet, and grit my teeth. That awful feeling of my voice being trapped got worse as I grew older. 8 Then when I
9、 was 14, Professor Donald Crouch came to our school. He was a retired college professor who had settled in nearby Brethren, a Mennonite community. When he heard that our agricultural high was teaching Chaucer, Shakespeare and other classics, he couldnt stand not being a part of our school. So he lef
10、t his retreat to teach us English, history and Latin.9 Donald Crouch was a tall, lean man with gray hair; English was his favorite subject, poetry was his deepest love. Hes been an associate of Robert Frost. He held a book of poems as if it were a diamond necklace, turning pages as if uncovering tre
11、asures. He memorized a poem every day, explaining that if he ever lost his eyesight he would still be able to savor all that beauty.10 When he learned that I not only loved poetry but was writing it, we found a kinship. There was, however, one difficulty between us. Professor Crouch (we always calle
12、d him that) could not stand the fact I refused to read my poems to the class. 11 “Jim, poetry is meant to be read aloud, just like sermons,” he pressed. “You should be able to speak those beautiful words.”12 I shook my head and turned away.13 Then he tricked me. I labored long and hard on a poem, an
13、d after handing it in I waited expectantly for his critique. It didnt come. Instead, one day as the students assembled, he challenged me. “Jim, I dont think you wrote this.”14 I stared at him in disbelief. “Why,” I started, anger flooding me, “of course I did!”15 “Well, then,” he said, “youve got to
14、 prove it by getting up and reciting it from memory.”16 By then the other students had settled at their desks. He looked at me meaningfully and nodded. With knees shaking, I walked up before my peers.17 “Jim will recite his latest poem,” announced Professor Crouch.18 For a moment I stood breathless.
15、 I could see smirks and wry smiles on some faces. Then I began. And kept going. I recited my poem all the way through without hesitation or fault! I stood amazed and floated back to my desk in a daze, amid wild applause.19 Afterward, Professor Crouch congratulated me. “Aha,” he said. “Now we have so
16、mething here. Not only will you have to write more poetry and read it aloud to know how good it feels, but Im sure that you will want to read other writers poetry before the class.”20 I was dubious about that, but said Id try.21 Soon I began to discover something other stutterers know. Most have no problem singing because
