Standing amid the ruins of the World Trade Center, I passed buckets of rubble along a human chain formed by volunteers and first responders.
我佇立於世貿中心的廢墟之中,沿著一排志工與急救人員所組成的人鏈,傳遞著一桶桶瓦礫。
It was hours after the attacks of September 11, 2001.
那是2001年9月11日攻擊後的數小時。
A small white object jutting jaggedly from the gray ash caught my eye.
一個自灰色灰燼中嶙峋突出的小巧白色物體,攫住了我的目光。
Worn and encrusted with filth, it was unmistakably a golf ball.
它既已磨損,又沾滿污穢,毋庸置疑,那是一顆高爾夫球。
Yet in that moment it came to symbolize a loss that defied comprehension—one that might take years to dissipate, or perhaps never be resolved for all eternity.
然而,在那一刻,它卻象徵著一種令人費解的失落——那或許需耗費數年光陰,甚或永世難以消解。
Someone whose name I neither recall nor, in all likelihood, will ever have any means of ascertaining, enjoined me never to discard it.
一個我既不記得其名、亦極可能永無從知曉其為何許人也的人,囑咐我萬勿將之丟棄。
We were all tacitly aware of what it truly signified to recover a personal possession amid acres upon acres of pulverised concrete and contorted steel.
我們皆心知肚明,在數英畝盡遭粉碎的混凝土與扭曲變形的鋼鐵之中尋獲一件私人物品,究竟意味著什麼。
I laid it beside a heap of rent metal wreckage, which was believed to be debris from the aircraft that had struck the Twin Towers.
我將它置於一堆被撕裂的金屬殘骸旁,而那被認定是撞向雙塔的飛機碎片。
Amid the chaos of those first few hours, people laboured tirelessly, digging frantically at what would later come to be known as "the Pile", searching for any sign of life.
在那最初數小時的混沌之中,人們不知疲倦地勞作,於日後被稱作「堆」的所在瘋狂挖掘,搜尋任何生命跡象。
We stood shoulder to shoulder with other New Yorkers, digging, doing whatever we felt might help, occasionally pausing because cries demanding silence pierced through the hum of activity.
我們與其他紐約人並肩而立,挖掘著,做著任何我們覺得有幫助的事,偶爾會停下來,因為要求安靜的呼喊刺穿了活動的嗡嗡聲。
The early optimism soon gave way to despair.
早期的樂觀很快讓位給了絕望。
Identifiable items are as scarce as morning stars, so when you happen upon some object hinting that someone once laboured here, the sensation strikes you like a blow to the face: a torn photograph, a paperweight, a shoe.
可資辨識者寥若晨星,是以當你偶遇某件暗示曾有人在此勞動過的物事時,那感覺恍若一記重擊迎面而來:一幀撕裂的照片、一方紙鎮、一隻鞋。
Each relic that surfaces tells, in hushed and lingering tones, a story about someone now gone that will never be fully revealed.
每一件浮現的遺物,皆娓娓訴說著一則關於某位已逝之人、終將無從揭曉的故事。
Every object, no matter how utterly unremarkable, has become part of American history.
每一件物品,無論何等平淡無奇,俱成了美國歷史的一部分。
For me, given that I was at that time hopelessly addicted to golf, this ball was all the more poignant.
於我而言,彼時既耽溺於高爾夫成癖,這顆球遂格外令人愴然。
I could picture it sitting alongside other balls in a jar on a desk, each one stamped with a different corporate logo.
我彷彿見它與諸球並置於案上罐中,每顆皆鐫有各異的公司標誌。
What this ball carried within it was a moment that I was willing to believe had once brought someone a fleeting joy — a deal clinched on the spot, a delightfully entertaining scramble tournament, or even that one swing which had left this person forever convinced that breaking 90 was no mere fantasy.
這顆球所承載的,乃是我甘願相信曾予某人一瞬欣悅的時刻——一樁拍板成交的買賣、一場妙趣橫生的 scramble 賽事,甚或是那一記令此人始終篤信突破90桿並非妄想的揮擊。
For the amateur golfer, golf is by and large a profoundly frustrating pursuit.
對業餘高爾夫球手而言,高爾夫大抵是一項令人倍感挫敗的運動。
Yet it simultaneously carries aspiration, friendship, and camaraderie—precisely the things that were so desperately needed at that time.
然而,它同時亦承載著抱負、友誼與情誼——而這些,正是當時所亟需者。
For this reason, the discovery of a single ball amid the smoldering ruins continues to resonate, even after a quarter of a century.
職是之故,於悶燒的廢墟中尋獲一顆球,縱使歷經二十五載,依然迴響不絕。
Howie Rumberg was one of the first journalists to arrive at the World Trade Center site in the aftermath of the September 11, 2001 attacks.
Howie Rumberg 係2001年9月11日襲擊後首批抵達世貿中心遺址嘅記者之一。
This article forms part of "American Objects," a recurring series commemorating the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States.
呢篇係紀念美國建國250週年嘅定期系列「美國物品」嘅一部分。
To read more from "American Objects," please click here.
如欲閱覽更多「美國物品」內容,請按此處。
To read more of our coverage of the anniversary, please click here.
如欲閱覽更多關於週年紀念嘅報導,請按此處。