Three Days to See

假如拥有三天光明

Helen Keller/海伦.凯勒

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was

as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours, but always we

were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of

course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

Such stories set up thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what

experiences, what associations，should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should

we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?

Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an

attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with gentleness, vigor, and a

keenness of appreciation which is often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days

and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of “Eat, drink, and

be merry,” most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense

of values is changed. He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has

often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything

they do.

Most of us take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the

future, when we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in

an endless vista. So we go about our petty task, hardly aware of our listless attitude towards life.

The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing,

only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who

have lost sight and hearing in adult

life? But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom

make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sound hazily, without

concentration, and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we

lose it, as not being conscious of health until we are ill.

I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some

time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the

joys of sound.