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The Lady on Pemberton Street

by Albert DiBartolomeo

    Shortly after the author and his wife move to a house on a little street called Pemberton, they get acquainted with a special neighbor － Mable Howard, who has battled all her life against litter, decay and disorder to make life more enchanting in the neighborhood. Here is the moving story of Mable Howard, the beloved block captain.

    For many years my wife, Sue, and I wanted to live near Philadelphia's Center City. The only place within our means was a row house on a little street called Pemberton. The house needed work, but I am fairly handy so we had little concern about fixing it up.

    What did concern us was the neighborhood. Some buildings were dilapidated. There was more crime than we had been exposed to in the past. But our block seemed okay, and we decided to buy. After the settlement, we went to our new home. The street was vacant, but I sensed that we were being watched. Sue was upstairs measuring for blinds when I heard a rap at the door.

    "Hello?" a reedy voice called.

    I opened the door upon a woman with bright eyes somewhere between fierce and merry. She was at least 65, thin, but not at all frail. Quite the opposite. All tough sinew, she looked like a hawk eyeing prey.

    "Sorry to bother you, my dear," she said. "I'm Mable Howard, the block captain."

    I had only a dim awareness of what that meant. But I soon learned that a block captain's function was to request city services, report trouble to police and coordinate efforts to keep the block clean and safe.

    I introduced Mable to Sue, who had come downstairs. "I'm BLOCK CAPTAIN," Mable told her, after I failed to mention her title.
    "Trash day is on Tuesdays," Mable continued. "Don't put any trash out before seven o'clock the night before. Sometimes animals get into it and make a mess. It just looks terrible. I try to keep a clean block here."

    "We noticed," I said.

    "What do you do for a living?"

    We told her. I also mentioned that I did handiwork on the side.

    "Oh, that's good." She drew out the last word as if responding to the sight of a luscious cake.

    We continued to exchange pleasantries until Sue and I had to return to work. I escorted Mable to the door.

    "Did you see the sign?" she asked, pointing to a utility pole. Below a parking sign was one inscribed with Mable Howard, BLOCK CAPTAIN.

    "Nice," I said.

    When we left the house ten minutes later, Mable was sweeping the sidewalk.

    The Clean Sweep. On our first morning on Pemberton Street, the sound of sweeping woke us early. I looked out the window. Mable was swishing her broom down the street.

    The next morning began the same way, and the one after that. I soon learned that Mable began every day this way. She swept in light rain. She swept in winds that scattered leaves. She swept snow. On such days we shook our heads at her.

    On that first morning, however, this was all new to me. Since I couldn't sleep, I began replacing the front-door locks. It wasn't long before Mable came up.

    "Good morning, sweetie pie," she began. "What a nice toolbox." She seemed to genuinely admire it. " I need a lock of my own changed. Maybe you could do that?"

    "Uh, sure."

    Mable went back to sweeping. I heard her muttering as she swept up some crack vials. "Riffraff," she said, and shook her head in disgust.
    Later I changed Mable's lock. The next morning I found an envelope on my vestibule floor. Inside were three dollar bills and a thank-you note. "Love, Mable" was scrawled at the bottom.

    I knew Mable wanted to pay me, but I wanted no money. While she was at church, I put the envelope through her mail slot.

    That afternoon the envelope found its way back to me. I promptly returned it again. Mable's husband, Jarvis, soon showed up at my door.

    "You have to let her pay you," he said, handing me the envelope. "Otherwise, she won't sleep at night." I did not want to be responsible for Mable's insomnia, so I kept the three dollars.

    The Alley Gate. It was not quite 7: 30 on a summer Saturday morning when I left the house with my toolbox and headed toward an alley near the corner.

    "Good morning, Mable," I said, as I came abreast of her.

    "Good morning, sweetie pie."

    "I'm going to fix the gate now."

    "Oh, wonderful," she said, and followed me.

    The wooden gate was in disrepair, and "riffraff," according to Mable, were using the alley for "Lord knows what." For weeks she had been asking me to replace the broken slats and put a lock on the gate. I finally saw her point. Why should the alley be a private place for crude behavior, just because it was public property?

    Shortly, Jarvis came by carrying his daily newspaper. He had been a chef all his life, and now, long retired, he worked a few hours in the cafeteria of a Catholic grade school. He loved the kids, he told me. With Jarvis's help, I finished repairing the gate in short time. Mable commenced sweeping up the sawdust while I packed up my tools.

    She gazed down the length of the street. The bright sun had turned the upper windows of the west side into fiery rectangles of yellow. The blue sky above appeared enameled.

    "I like a nice clean block," Mable said.

    "It does look splendid," I said, handing her the key to the gate.

    The Block Cleaning. I soon participated in my first block cleaning. Two weeks before, Mable affixed placards to utility poles, admonishing us to move our cars on the Saturday specified. A week before, she put fliers into our mail slots. On Friday she reminded everyone again.

    Early Saturday I heard Mable knocking on doors, rousing us to move our cars off the block. There was a certain combativeness in her voice, as if those who did not help had sided with the dark forces responsible for litter, decay and dilapidation.

    When I returned from parking my car I met my neighbor Mike Garcia, wearing slippers and looking sleepy.

    "Why do we have to do this so early?" I complained.

    "Because the Boss said so," he laughed.
     When the cars vanished, the street was open its entire length and width. That incongruous sight was soon eclipsed by a gushing fire hydrant and phalanxes of neighbors pushing brooms to work the water and dirt down the street. The water shimmered in the morning sun and left the street glistening.

    The cleaning was infectious. Several neighbors washed their windows. Others tended to window boxes. Mable seemed to be everywhere at once, calling directives.

    As the sun brightened, the atmosphere became festive. People who had seen one another only in passing stood elbow to elbow and chatted. I had not seen anything like this in all my years of city living.
    I found myself wiping down the sign that proclaimed Mable block captain. "I think I'm having fun," I said to Mike.

    "Me too." 

    The Debt. This year age had caught up to Mable. She sweeps only on days when the weather is fine. The street is suffering a bit.

    Recently I stopped by to put together her new vacuum cleaner. "Hello, sweetie pie," Mable said, and embraced me when I entered. She was not merely thin but skeletal. I told her that she looked well, lying.

    The following morning there was the envelope with its three dollars on my vestibule floor. I had long ago stopped trying to return the money, even though I am more in Mable's debt than she is in mine.

    Going outside later, I saw that a sheaf of advertising circulars had been scattered by the wind. I could not get the image out of my mind. After lunch I took a trash bag and went outside. Hesitating a moment, I left my doorstep and went up and down the street gathering the litter.

    I was a bit self-conscious, but I knew Mable would be pleased. I was proud to call her my captain.

    (1 390 words) TOP

课文一

潘伯敦街上的女士

艾伯特▪迪巴特罗门

    作者与妻子搬到一条叫作潘伯顿的小街上居住后不久,就结识了一位特殊的邻居——梅布尔▪霍华德。为了使社区的生活变得更美好，她一生都在与乱扔垃圾、腐朽、混乱的现象作斗争。下面是梅布尔▪霍华德,这位广受爱戴的街区监督员的动人故事。

    多年来,我和妻子苏一直想住到费城的中心城区附近。按收入状况，我们只能住在一条叫做潘伯顿的小街上的联体房屋。房子需要修理，但我手工活做得不赖，所以不担心修缮的事。

    让我们担心的是这个街区。一些房屋已经失修。这儿的犯罪比我们过去见过的要多得多。但我们的街区似乎还可以，所以我们决定把房子买下来。一切收拾停当后，我们搬到新家。街上空无一人，但我感到有人在注视我们。苏在楼上测量尺寸，好装窗帘，我听到叩门声。

    “您好？”一个又高又尖的声音喊道。

    我打开门，看到一位妇人，明亮的双眼既犀利又透着愉快。她至少65岁，清瘦，但 一点也不虚弱。恰恰相反。 她肌肉强健，看上去像只老鹰盯着它的猎物。

    “对不起，打扰您了,亲爱的”，她说，“我是梅布尔▪霍华德，这个街区的监督员。”
    我对街区监督员的含义所知甚少。但我很快意识到街区监督员的作用就是提出城市的公益服务要求，向警方汇报纠纷以及组织力量保持街区的清洁与安全。

    我把梅布尔介绍给下楼来的苏。“我是街区的监督员，”见我忘了提及她的头衔，梅布尔对苏说。

    “星期二倒垃圾，”梅布尔继续说道，“星期一晚上七点以前不准把垃圾放到外面。动物有时会钻进垃圾堆，弄得一团糟，实在有碍观瞻。我得设法保持街区清洁。”
    “我们注意到了，” 我说。
    “你们从事什么职业？”

    我们告诉了她，我还顺便提到，我兼职做些手工活。

    “喔，很好。”她拉长了声音说出最后一个词，语气就象是看到了美味的蛋糕似的。
    我们继续客套着，直到我和苏不得不继续工作。我把梅布尔送到门口。

    “看到那个牌子了吗？”梅布尔指着一根告示杆问道。只见在一张停车标牌下面刻着“梅布尔▪霍华德——街区监督员”几个字。
    “很不错，”我说。
    十分钟后我们离家时，梅布尔正在打扫人行道。

    清扫街区
    住在潘伯顿街的第一天，一大早我们就被扫地的声音吵醒了。我向窗外望去，只见梅布尔正挥动扫帚沿街扫地。

    第二天早晨也是如此，此后天天如此。 不久，我知道梅布尔的每一天都是这样开始的。细雨中，她仍在扫地；落叶飘舞的风中，她在扫地；大雪天，她在扫地。这样的天气里，我们只能对她摇头。

    然而在搬来的第一天早上，这一切对我来说还都是陌生的。 我睡不着，于是就起床开始换前门的锁。不久梅布尔过来了。

   “早上好，亲爱的，”她先开口说。“多好的一个工具箱啊，”她似乎真喜欢它。“我有把锁需要换一下，也许你能帮我？”
　  “当然。”

    梅布尔回去继续扫地。我听到她一边扫着破碎的小瓶子，一边嘟囔着。她说，“渣滓”，厌恶地摇着头。

    后来，我帮梅布尔换了锁。第二天早上，我发现门口走廊的地板上有个信封，里面有3美元和一张致谢的便条。便条的最后潦草地写着“爱你的，梅布尔。”
    我知道梅布尔想付给我钱，但是我不想收。所以当她在教堂做礼拜时，我把信封投进了她的信箱里。

    当天下午，信封又回来了，我再次迅速地退回。很快，梅布尔的丈夫贾维斯出现在我家门口。

    “你必须让她付给你钱，”说着，他把那个信封交给我。“要不，她晚上会睡不着觉的。”我不想对梅布尔的失眠负责，于是就收下了那3美元。

    小巷的门
     一个夏天星期六的早晨，不到七点半我就带着工具箱离开家，朝街道拐角附近的巷口走去。

   “早上好，梅布尔,”当我赶上她时说。
    “早上好，亲爱的。”
    “我正要去修巷门。”
    “呀，太好了，”她说，跟着我向巷门走去。
    这扇木门已失修多时， 用她的话说，“只有老天知道”那些“渣滓”是怎么用这条巷子的。好几个星期以来，她一直要我把破木板换掉，在门上加把锁。我终于明白她的用意了。为什么仅仅因为这条小巷是公共财产，就该成为野蛮攻击的目标？

     不一会儿，贾维斯手拿日报过来了。他做了一辈子的厨师，早已退休，现在每天在一家天主教学校的自助餐厅工作几个小时。他告诉我，他喜欢那些孩子们。在贾维斯的帮助下，门很快就修好了。梅布尔开始打扫地上的锯末，我则收起工具。

     她凝视着整个街道。明媚的阳光照在西边窗户的上半部，窗户似乎变成了赤黄色的矩形。蓝色的天空则象是涂满了釉彩。

    “我喜欢美丽整洁的街区，” 梅布尔说。

    “这街区看上去的确很棒，”说着，我把门钥匙交给她。

    街区大扫除

    不久，我参加了我的第一次街区清洁工作。提前两个星期，梅布尔就在告示杆上张贴了一张布告，敦促我们在星期六的指定时间把各自的汽车开走。大扫除的前一个星期，她又把通知投进我们每一家的信箱。星期五，她再次提醒了每一个人。
    星期六一大早，我听到梅布尔挨家挨户地敲门，喊醒我们去把汽车开走。她的声音里透着某种好战的情绪，似乎那些不遵从她号令的人都站到了黑暗势力的一边，要对乱扔垃圾、颓败、破败负责。

    当我泊好车返回时，碰到了邻居迈克▪加西亚，他穿着拖鞋，睡眼惺忪的样子。

     “我们为什么非得起这么早干这些活？”我抱怨道。

    “因为是老板这么吩咐的，”他笑道。
    车子都开走后，整个街道都露了出来。消防水龙头喷出粗水柱，邻居们组成方阵，挥着扫把将水和灰尘顺着街道扫过去，原来那种不和谐的景象很快消失了。水珠在晨曦中闪闪发光，整条街道流光溢彩。

    大扫除具有感染力。几个邻居在冲洗窗户。其他的则清扫着自家的窗格子。梅布尔好像总能突然出现在任何地方进行指导。

    太阳越来越亮，气氛变得欢快起来。那些平时过往时才见面的人，现在在一起交谈甚欢。我在城市生活多年，从未见过这样的事情。

    我在擦洗宣布梅布尔为街区监督员的布告牌。“我很开心，”我对迈克说。

    “我也是。”

    债务
    今年，梅布尔上了年纪，她只能在天气好的时候扫扫街。街道有些脏了。

     最近，我路过她家，帮她组装吸尘器。“你好，亲爱的，”进门时梅布尔拥抱我说。她如今不再是清瘦而是瘦骨嶙峋。我言不由衷地告诉她：她看上去气色很好。

     第二天早晨，门口地板上的信封里放着3美元。很久以前，我就不再试图把钱还回去——即使我欠她的比她欠我的多。

    晚些时候我走到街上，看到一叠广告单随风飘落。我无法忘记这一幕。午饭后，我拿了一只垃圾袋走出家门。犹豫了一会，我走下台阶来到街上捡散落的垃极。 

    我感到有一点不自然，但是，我知道梅布尔波会为此高兴。我自豪地称她为我的监督员。

    （1390个单词） 返回

Text 2

It's Our World, Too!

by Phillip Hoose

    One afternoon in late August, Andrew Holleman's mother stood at the table reading a letter that had just come in the mail. She seemed upset. "What is it, Mom?" he asked. Shaking her head, she passed it to Andrew.

    Andrew's eyes narrowed. It was from a company whose president was announcing that he wanted to develop the private land next to Andrew's yard. The developer wanted to build 180 condominium units.

    Andrew was stunned. He had loved and studied and explored that land ever since he could remember. Each summer, he pulled bass from the stream that ran through it. Every winter, he played hockey on the frozen stream with his friends. Using their field guides, he and a friend had learned to identify nearly all the plants and animals that lived there. Andrew especially liked to follow the stream back to a flat rock, where he would sit, whittling and thinking. From that rock he had seen deer and foxes pass by. Once a red-tailed hawk had settled onto a snag about ten feet away and stared at him, cocking its head as if it were trying to figure out what sort of creature Andrew was. The thought of losing all that was unbearable.

    Andrew looked at the letter's final sentence. His parents were invited to an open meeting at town hall to hear the developer describe his plans. The meeting was only four weeks away. Sitting at his kitchen table, Andrew went through a kind of metamorphosis. His initial shock melted into anger, and then the anger changed into a cold determination. Somehow Andrew Holleman was going to stop that development.

"Are You Still Looking?"

    Andrew needed information, fast. He knew there were laws in Massachusetts, where he lived, that said when you could and couldn't put buildings on wetlands. And most of the land next door was wet all the time.

    His mother dropped him off at the library, and soon Andrew was staring at bookcases full of Massachusetts law books. He needed to find the Hatch Act, which his parents had told him was the law that controlled the development of wetlands in Massachusetts.
    Two hours later, Andrew's mother returned to find him barely visible behind a mountain of law books. She picked out a book of her own and sat down. A few minutes later, she heard him shout. Several nearby readers looked up. "Finally I found it," Andrew remembers. "It was clear: The Hatch Act said it was illegal to build within one hundred feet of a wet land unless you had a permit."
    "I asked the librarian what else I could read. She reached behind her desk and handed me the master plan for my town, Chelmsford." A master plan is a guide to the way all the land in a town can be used. It tells which land can be developed for industry, which land can support houses or apartments, and which must be left open for parks or nature areas.
    Quickly he found the land by his house on a map that came with the plan. "I could see that the developer wanted to develop 16.3 acres; that's how big the site was. But 8.5 acres were zoned as wetlands and 5.6 of the rest were considered to be poor soil. It looked like only 2.2 acres were considered developable."
    Weary but happy, Andrew got up from his desk and pulled on his jacket. Now he had the ammunition he needed.


"Please Sign the Attached Sheet."

    Andrew knew the developer's plan was probably illegal, but that didn't mean anyone else knew, or that anyone else would care. He needed a way to educate people about the developer's plan and its weaknesses before the meeting.

    He decided to write a petition opposing the development and ask the registered voters who lived in the neighborhood to sign it. He could then send copies to local politicians. If they could see that most voters were against the development, Andrew reasoned, they might be persuaded.

    The petition had to be short and to the point. "I knew it couldn't be more than a page long, because people tend to ignore longer things," he says. "I gave basic information about the site and the law. Then I said, ‘If you agree with me that this land shouldn't be developed, please sign the attached sheet.’"

    Every night for the next few weeks, Andrew raced home from school, did his homework, bolted down dinner, and then headed out to gather signatures. He was very patient. "Some nights I would be out for two hours and I'd get only five signatures, because people would bring me into their house and offer me cookies while they discussed it with me. That was fine with me. I didn't want to get in a hurry and leave out information. I wanted to make sure I had a chance to answer every question they could think of."

    Andrew also created a petition at school. Even though they couldn't vote, he hoped his schoolmates would want to add their voices to the fight. "Some kids didn't agree with me, but the majority did. I just kept on going."

    And he continued his research. He called the state Audubon Society's Environmental Health Line and asked for ideas. Dr. Dorothy Arvidson, a staff biologist, told him how to get a list of the state's endangered and threatened species from the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife.

    When the list arrived in the mail, Andrew recognized three species － the wood turtle, the yellow salamander, and the great blue heron － that lived on his land. He remembered that one day he had found a wood turtle shell in an old trap. He had picked it up and taken it back to his room. The list gave him an idea for how that old shell could be useful. He thought the turtle would approve.

Organizing an Ambush

    As the night of the meeting approached, Andrew went over his list of things to do. A neighbor had already contacted some reporters who had said they'd be there. Andrew had written letters to newspaper editors opposing the development. The petition now had over 180 signatures, and there was no one left to visit. He had sent copies to town officials and to his state senators and representatives.
    Finally he wrote a speech to give at the meeting. Every night after his homework, Andrew gathered his parents, his brother, and sister and asked them to help him rehearse.

    He opened by saying how much he loved the land. He said it provided a home for three endangered species. He said that the sewage from so much development would poison the local groundwater － and Chelmsford's wells, the town's drinking water. He even proposed an alternative site for development: the old drive-in theater. Raising the wood turtle's shell aloft and shaking it at his family, Andrew ended by listing all the reasons why the developer's proposal should be rejected. "Well?" Andrew would ask his family, totally inspired. "What do you think?" "Speak more slowly," his brother would suggest. "How about doing it one more time?" his mother would add.

    When it came time to leave for the meeting, Andrew felt the calmness and confidence that comes with having prepared carefully. He had been organizing almost nonstop for a month. The trap was set, and Andrew was ready.

"Where Did All These People Come From?"

    At 7:30, the developer and town officials watched in amazement as hundreds of Chelmsford residents lined up outside the town hall. The developer had sent letters to only fifty nearby residents. Where had all these people come from? And where were they going to put them all? First they changed rooms to the selectmen's office but even then the crowd spilled out into the hall. Finally a town official begged the girls' high school basketball coach to end practice early and let them have the gym. By 8:00, there were over 250 people in the bleachers.

    The developer began by presenting his plan and then asked if anyone wanted to speak. Andrew rose and walked slowly to the front of the room, carrying his note cards and the turtle shell. There was applause, and then quiet.

    Andrew's speech went perfectly. The only surprise came when Andrew suggested the developer build instead at the site of the old drive-in movie theater. "I found out the guy had already started a condominium there."

    The struggle was far from over. Although now it was clear that most neighbors opposed the development, the developer wasn't about to give up. Over the next ten months, he presented his plans to the conservation commission, zoning board, appeals board, and selectmen. They all had to say yes for his plan to go through. Andrew was determined to help them say no.

    "I went to every meeting, usually with my parents," Andrew remembers. "Sometimes I went to two or three meetings a week. Usually they were on school nights, and often I didn't get home until eleven. My mother kept saying, ‘Don't get burned out; if you need to stop now, it's okay － you've already made a good try.'"

    Because they were together so much, Andrew came to know the developer. Although he hated the man's plan, he didn't hate the man himself. "It's like how lawyers can be fighting tooth and nail in a courtroom one minute and then be friendly out in the hall," Andrew says. "That's the way we were. When it was time for business, we got down to business."

    The developer seemed to respect Andrew as a worthy opponent, even if he was young －although once, in a meeting, he hollered, "I'm not going to discuss hydrogeological information with a twelve-year-old!" "He was really worked up," Andrew recalls. "I didn't take it personally."

    Together with a few neighbors, Andrew's parents formed a neighborhood association and went door-to-door asking for money to hire a lawyer and a scientist to testify at hearings. They ended up raising $16 000.

    Dr. Arvidson, the Audubon biologist, never seemed to run out of ideas for Andrew. Once, while she was giving him a long list of suggestions, Andrew interrupted. "Hey, I'm only twelve years old," he told her. "That's no excuse," she said, and went right on talking.

Victory!

    Finally it came time to test whether the soil at the site could hold the enormous amount of sewage － dishwater, bath water, toilet water, water from washing machines － that would be created in 180 condominiums.

    While Andrew, his father, and several town officials watched, the developer fired up a backhole and dug about fifteen deep holes in the soil. Muddy water quickly filled all the holes but two and then spilled out onto the grass. That meant sewage from the proposed condominiums would flow right down into drinking water. The plan had failed the test. Two weeks later, the zoning board of appeals met to make a final decision. The developer, sensing that he was about to lose, asked to withdraw his application. That way he would be able to try again, for fewer condominiums. But the board ruled that the site was simply not suitable for development. Andrew had won!

    When the zoning board gave its ruling, Andrew felt like shattering the hearing room with a mighty whoop, but instead, he walked over and shook the developer's hand. No reason to burn bridges, he told himself.

    Now Andrew is hard at work with his ultimate plan, which is to convince the town to buy the land and use it as a nature preserve. He won't rest until the land he loves is absolutely safe. "If I don't do it," he says, "no one else is going to."

    (1 967 words) TOP

课文二

这也是我们的世界！

菲利普▪胡斯

    八月底的一个下午，安德鲁▪霍勒曼的妈妈站在桌旁，读着刚刚收到的一封来信。她看上去忐忑不安。“怎么了，妈妈？”安德鲁问道。妈妈摇着头，把信递给了他。

     安德鲁眯起了眼睛。信是一家公司写来的，该公司总裁宣称，他想开发紧挨着安德鲁家庭院的那片私人土地。开发商想建造180套公寓。

    安德鲁惊呆了。自记事以来，他就一直热爱、研究、探索着这片土地。每年夏天，他都会在穿过这片土地的小溪里摸鲈鱼；每年冬天，他会和朋友们在冰封的小溪上打曲棍球。靠着土地指南册，他和一个朋友已学会了辨别几乎每一种生活在这块土地上的动植物。安德鲁尤其喜欢沿着小溪走到一块平滑的石块那儿坐下来，边削树枝边沉思。在那块石头上，他看着鹿、狐狸从眼前跑过。有一次，一只红尾鹰栖在十码外溪水里伸出的暗礁上，凝视着他。红尾鹰昂起头，好像在猜测安德鲁是哪一种生物。一想到要放弃所有这一切，安德鲁就觉得难以忍受。

    安德鲁看着信的最后一行。他的父母被邀请参加在市政厅举行的公开会议，听取发展商解释开发计划。离开会的时间只有四个星期了。安德鲁坐在餐桌旁，仿佛经历了一次变形。起初的震惊变成了愤怒，愤怒又转为坚定的决心。无论如何，安德鲁▪霍勒曼要阻止这项开发计划。

    “您还在观望吗？”

    安德鲁迫切需要信息。 他知道，自己居住的马萨诸塞州制定了法律，规定何时能或不能在湿地上建造房屋。而隔壁那块土地的大部分一直是湿的。

    安德鲁搭乘母亲的车子来到图书馆。很快，他就站在摆满了马萨诸塞州法律图书的书架前找书了。他想找到那个规划法案，因为他的父母告诉他，这个法案限制着马萨诸塞州的湿地开发。

    两个小时以后，安德鲁的母亲回来了，只见安德鲁坐在堆得小山似的法律图书后面，她几乎看不见他。她挑了一本书，坐下来。几分钟后，她听到安德鲁大叫一声。旁边的几个读者抬起了头。“我终于找到了，”安德鲁回忆说，“很清楚，规划法案规定，除非获得许可，否则不可在距湿地一百码之内建造房屋。”

     “我问图书管理员还能读哪些书。她伸手从桌子后面拿过一本我们这个城市 -- 切姆斯福的规划书，递给我。”城市规划书是有关如何使用该城市土地的指南。它规定哪片土地可以用做工业建设，哪片土地可以用做房屋和公寓建设，哪片土地必须划为公园和自然区。

    很快，安德鲁在地图上找到了他家旁边的那块土地。“看得出，发展商想开发16.3英亩土地，正好是那块地的面积。但城市规划书上说明，这块地有8.5亩被圈为湿地，剩余中5.6亩被划做贫瘠土地，只有2.2亩的土地被认为是可以开发的。”

    安德鲁站了起来，穿上夹克衫，虽然疲倦但是很开心。现在，他有了所需的炮弹。

    “请在附页上签名”

    安德鲁明白虽然发展商的计划可能是非法的，但这并不意味着其他每个人都知道或关心这一点。他需要在大会之前，告诉人们发展商的计划及其弊端。

     安德鲁决定写一份请愿书，反对这一开发计划，让住在这个街区的法定选举人签名，然后将签名的副本寄给本地的政治家们。安德鲁推想，如果这些政治家们看到有这么多人反对开发计划，他们可能会被说服的。

    请愿书应该简短扼要。“我知道请愿书不应超过一页，因为人们容易忽略篇幅较长的东西。”安德鲁解释说，“我只给出有关这块地和相关法律的基本材料，然后我写到：‘如果您同意不该开发这块地，请在附页上签名。’”

 

    此后几个星期的每天晚上，安德鲁一放学就匆匆赶回家，做完作业，狼吞虎咽地吃完晚饭，就跑出家门征集签名。他非常有耐心。“有些晚上，出去两个小时，我只能得到5个签名。因为人们会把我带到他们家里，一面给我吃小饼干，一面和我谈论这件事。我也愿意这样，因为我不愿匆忙之间漏掉有关的信息。我得保证回答他们提出的每个问题。”

    安德鲁在学校里也发起了请愿活动。因为他希望，即便学生们还没有选举权，他们也想声援这次战斗。“有些同学不赞成我的作法，但大多数同学站在我这一边。我只是不停地向前走。”

    安德鲁继续进行调查。他打电话给马萨诸塞州奥杜邦协会环境健康专线，向他们请教。那里的工作人员，生物学家多萝茜▪阿维森博士，告诉他如何从马萨诸塞州渔业和野生动植物部门弄到一份本州濒危物种的目录。

    目录收到后，安德鲁认出了其中3个濒危物种——木龟、黄蝾螈和蓝色苍鹭——它们都生活在那片湿地上。他记得有一天他在一个破旧的捕捉器里见过木龟壳，还把它捡回家，放在自己的房间。这个目录让他懂得旧龟壳的用途。他想木龟会证明这一点的。

    组织伏击

    开会的晚上临近，安德鲁更加仔细地考虑他要做的事情。一位邻居已经联络了一些记者，这些记者说届时他们将到大会现场。安德鲁也给报纸编辑们写过信，反对这次开发。现在，请愿书上已经有180多个签名，所有的人都访问过了。他已经将签名的副本寄给市政官员和州的参议员、众议员。

    最后，他写了份大会讲演稿。每天晚上做完功课，安德鲁就召集父母、哥哥和姐姐帮他排练。

    他从自己是多么热爱这块土地说起。他说，这儿是3种濒危物种的家园。他说，如此大规模的开发所排放的污水会污染地下水——还有切姆斯福的水井，即这个城市的饮用水。他甚至提出作为替代开发另一处地点：破旧的汽车电影院。他高举着木龟壳，在家人面前摇晃着，列举了所有否决发展商计划的理由，就这样结束了他的讲演。“你们觉得怎么样？”安德鲁激动地问他的家人。“讲得再慢一点，”哥哥建议道。妈妈加上一句：“再来一遍，怎么样？”

    参加大会的时候到了，因为作了充分准备，安德鲁非常镇定，充满自信。他几乎马不停蹄地准备了一个月。罗网已经架好，安德鲁一切就绪。

    “这么多人从何而来？”

    晚上7：30，发展商和市政官员们惊讶地发现，几百位切姆斯福居民排列在市政大厅外。发展商只给附近的50位居民发过邀请信，这么多人是从哪儿来的？哪儿能容纳下这么多人？他们先是把房间换到行政委员的办公室，但即便这样，还有人留在大厅。最后，一个市政官员恳请高中女校的篮球教练提前结束训练，把体育馆让出来。八点钟的时候，看台上已经有250多位市民。

    发展商开始介绍他的计划，然后问是否有人想发言。安德鲁站起来，手里拿着草稿和龟壳慢慢朝体育馆的前方走去。这时候，掌声响起来，然后，又安静下来。

     安德鲁的发言很精彩。人们唯一惊讶的是安德鲁建议发展商去开发老汽车电影院的那块地皮。“我发现，已经有人在那儿建造公寓了。”
 

    战斗远未结束。尽管大多数居民明显反对这项开发计划，开发商却不打算因此放弃。此后的10个月里，发展商又向环保委员会、城市规划委员会、上诉委员会和市政委员提交了开发计划。所有这些部门都同意，开发商的计划才算通过。安德鲁决心促使他们说“不”。

    “我参加了每一次会议，通常和父母一起，”安德鲁回忆道。“有时一个星期我要参加两三次会议。通常会议时间安排在学校有课的晚上，所以常常十一点后才回家。妈妈总是说：‘别累坏了，如果你想现在停下来的话，也可以——你已经干得不错了。’”

    因为经常在一起，安德鲁认识了开发商。尽管他恨开发商的计划，但并不恨开发商这个人。“这就好比律师们在法庭上唇枪舌剑，一出法庭又是朋友，”安德鲁说，“我们就是这样。该办正事时，我们就办正事。”

    开发商视安德鲁为可敬的对手，尽管他是如此年轻——但有一次在会议中开发商曾大发牢骚，说：“我决不和一个12岁的孩子谈水文地理知识！”“他真的发火了，”安德鲁回忆说，“我没有生气。”

    安德鲁的父母和几位邻居一起成立了一个街区协会，挨家挨户募捐，以聘请一位律师和一位科学家在听证会上作证。他们共筹到了16000美元。

    阿维森博士——奥杜邦的生物学家——不断地给他出主意。一次，她在给安德鲁提出一长串建议的时候，安德鲁打断她，说：“嗨，我只有12岁哪。” “那可不是借口，”她说，又继续谈下去。

    胜利了！

    终于到了测试土地能否承受巨大的排污量的时候了——180套公寓产生的厨房洗涤水、洗澡水、厕所排水、洗衣机水。

    安德鲁、他的父亲以及几位市政官员都到了。开发商启动挖土机，挖了大约15个深洞。除了两个洞外，泥浆迅速涌进其他13个洞穴，然后浸漫到草地上。这意味着，待建公寓排放的污水将渗入饮用水。开发计划没有通过检测。两个星期后，城市规划上诉委员会将开会做出最后决定。开发商感到自己可能会输掉官司，自动撤回上诉。这样，他还可以重新尝试少开发一些公寓。但委员会裁定，这块地根本不适合开发——安德鲁赢了！

     当规划委员会作出裁决的一刹那，安德鲁真想大喊一声，来震动听证会，但他没有那么做。相反，他走向开发商，和他握了握手。他对自己说，没有必要做得过分。

      如今，安德鲁在为他的最后计划而努力——说服市政府买下这片土地，用作自然保护区。自己所热爱的土地如果没有百分之百的安全，他决不会罢休。安德鲁说：“我不去做的话，就没有人会去做。”

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