2004年Toastmasters世界演講冠軍Randy Harvey （演講視頻）

英文演講稿：

When I was 7, we drove to my cousin’s for dinner and to show off Fat Dad’s new car, a 1960 Ford Fairlane.

I fell asleep in the backseat and my folks left me sleeping as they went on up to the house. When I woke up, I stumbled outta the car and headed for the porch.

Whoo-whoo-rrrr-roooooo. I was surrounded by a pack of black and tan hunting hounds. Whoowhoo-rrrr-roooooo. My heart jumped and then so did I. First to the trunk, and then to the roof of his new car.

Mr. Contest Chair, Fellow Toastmasters and Guests.

I was frozen like a treed racoon. I was bawling and screaming. The hounds were circling and howling.

An ugly one-eyed dog clawed and scratched its way onto the trunk. Its yellow teeth snapping and foaming uhhhhhhhh. I was standing in water; it was mine.

His claws screeched and slipped on the glass when I heard, “Son!” And I dove at the voice to be caught in Fat Dad’s arms.

Safety was a flannel shirt, (sniffffff) that smelled of cherry tobacco, and a thunderous bellow that scattered hounds like cottonseed on the wind.

The next morning Fat Dad was buffin’ (spit) the scratches out of his new car. I said, “Fat Dad I’m sorry you had to rescue me.” He scooped me up in his big arms, said “Son, in life, sometimes you’re the catcher, sometimes you're the caught. When you love somebody, their trouble is your trouble.”

Fat Dad was my Daddy. And that loving nickname “Fat Dad” has been handed down through four generations, to the men in my family.

When I was 16, Fat Dad bought me a 1963 Volkswagen Beetle. Wide tires, chrome wheels. I was drivin’ it one sunny afternoon, listenin’ to Simon and Garfunkel on the 8-track. “Cecilia, you’re breakin’ my heart...”

Humongous horsefly shot through the window in my mouth and down my throat, Raaaa-huhhuuh-huh. It came back up, lodged in my right nostril. What would you do with a horsefly buzzin’ in your nose takin’ bites the size of Texas?

I steered with my knees, tried to fire that bug out of my nose. [PD]

The car shot to the left, then it catapulted back to the right, chopped down Morrison’s fence, sailing across their yard, right at Mossberger’s fountain, where Mary Poppins stood holding her umbrella, pouring water from a can.

I hit that fountain so hard I launched it like Sputnik. Mary Poppins hovered briefly. Then went down faster than a spoonful of sugar.

Well the Morrisons and the Mossbergers, they were a bit excited.

Not Fat Dad. He rode in like the cavalry. Made peace with the neighbors. I sat on a rock, in shock.

As Fat Dad put his arm around me, I burst into tears. “Shhhhhhh. We can fix the fence. I’ll buy another fountain. We can even replace that old car. Those are just things. But I could never replace you. Besides, the town will be talking about this for weeks!”

The lesson? Love.

Now teenage boys, they don’t always think about cars. Sometimes they think about, girls. Fat Dad overheard me and my buddies braggin’ about our adventures with women. Not bein’ the shy type, he joined right in. Listened for a while and then like ice water thrown on you in a cold shower said, “Boys, real men love for a lifetime. Not for a moment.”

Ruined the whole conversation!

?

But Fat Dad loved my Mama. When they walked in the garden or when they sat on the sofa, their hands always seemed to find each other.

And when Mama was sittin’ watchin’ TV, Fat Dad would come up behind her, wrap his strong arms around her, rest his chin on her shoulder, kiss her on the cheek.

“Eweeeee!” As a teenager I couldn’t believe old people carried on that way.

But Fat Dad’s love was more than romance. When my Mama battled the cancer that eventually took her life, Fat Dad like a good shepherd, caring for a wounded lamb, fed and bathed, read and sang to her.

And when my Mama’s sunset fell and turned to starlight, Fat Dad held her close, whispered words of love, and faith, to calm her fear.

Fat Dad’s love for my Mama was a gift to my wife and children, because watching him I learned to love them for a lifetime.

This year I had my first Father’s Day without Fat Dad, and I miss him. But the lessons he taught me will last a lifetime. When you love, sometimes you’re the catcher, sometimes you’re the caught.

When there’s trouble, love rushes in, wraps its strong arms around you. Real men, well, they love for a lifetime. Not for a moment.

Fellow Toastmasters, the lesson is love. And I’m proud to tell ya, my children call me Fat Dad.