歌曲《 老橡树上的黄丝带》便是根据Going Home这个感人的故事改编而成的。该文1971年发表于《 纽 约 邮 报 》(New York Post)。

Going Home
- By Pete Hamil

　　They were going to Fort Lauderdale -- three boys and three girls -- and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the gray, cold spring of New York vanished behind them.

　　As the bus passed through New Jersey, they bagan to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into complete silence.

　　Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's,and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.

　　" We're going to Florida," she said brightly. " I hear it's really beautiful."

　　" It is," he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.

　　" Want some wine?" she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.

　　In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he began to tell his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.

　　 " Are you married?"

　　" I don't know."

　　" You don't know?" she said.

　　" Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife," he said. " I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept askin question, if it hurt her too much, well, she could just forget me. I'd understand. Get a new guy, I said she's wonderful woman, really something and forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me. And she didn't. Not for three and a half years."

　　" And you're going home now, not knowing?"

　　" Yeah," he said shyly. " Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through,I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she didn't have a new guy and if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget it -- no handkerchief, and I'd go on through."

　　" Wow," the girl exclaimed. " Wow."

　　She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children the woman handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much handled snapshots.

　　Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over windows seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. Vingo stopped looking,tightening his face, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.

　　Then Brunswick was 10 miles, and then five. Then, suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying,doing small dances of joy.All except Vingo.

　　Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs -- 20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.

回家

　
　　 六个年青人，三男三女，要去洛德代尔堡游玩。他们登上了公共汽车，随身携带的纸袋中装满了三明治和葡萄酒。随着纽约那灰暗的、带有一丝凉意的春天在背后消逝，他们开始梦想着那金色的海滩和涌来涌去的海潮。

　　汽车经过新泽西州时，他们才开始注意到一个叫文戈的人，他一动不动地坐在他们前面：一身朴素的衣着，显得很不合身，脸上的一层灰尘让人辨别不出他的确切年龄。他一直不断地咬着嘴唇内侧，陷入深深的沉默之中。

　　夜深之际在华盛顿城外，公共汽车开进了霍华德·约翰逊连锁饭店。除了文戈之外，大家都下了车。他在座位上坐着，纹丝不动。此时，年青人对他好奇起来，想象着他的生活历程：或许他是一名海军上尉?或许为躲避妻子，离家出逃?或许是一名老兵退伍回家?回到车上后，其中一个女孩子坐到了他旁边，作了自我介绍，然后兴高采烈地说道：

　　"我们要去佛罗里达。我听说那个地方很美。"

　　"是的。"他安静地说道，似乎想起了某些他尽力要抹去的往事。

　　"想喝点葡萄酒吗?"她问道。他笑了笑，接过瓶喝了一大口，说了声谢谢，然后又陷入沉默之中。过了一会儿，那女孩子回到同伴中间，而文戈打起了瞌睡。

　　早晨他们醒来时，车已驶进另一家霍华德·约翰逊连锁饭店，而且这一次文戈也进去了。那个女孩子坚持要他与他们坐到一起。他显得很腼腆，只要了份黑咖啡。年青人你一句我一语地谈论在海滩上睡觉什么的，而文戈却紧张不安地抽着烟。返回公共汽车后，那个女孩子又和文戈坐到了一起。稍过了一会，他开始慢慢地，无不痛苦地讲起了他的故事。原来，他一直在纽约蹲了四年监狱，而现在他就要回家了。

　　"你结婚了吗?"

　　"我不知道。"

　　"你不知道?"她问道。

　　"唉，说来话长。"他说道。"在狱中，我写过信给我的妻子，说我要离家很长一段时间。还告诉她，要是她无法忍受，要是孩子们不断问这问那，或者，要是那对她的伤害太大的话，那么，她可以把我忘掉，我不怪她。找一个新归宿，当时我说。她是一个相当好的女人，真的了不起。把我忘记算了。我当时告诉她不必给我写信了。她不写了，已有三年半没给我写信了。"

　　"而你现在要回家了，不知道吗?"

　　"不错。"他怯生生地说，"这不，上周，我确定假释要获准时，我又给她写了封信。我们过去住在布伦斯威克，就是杰史逊威尔的前一站，那儿在进城之前有一颗大橡树。信中我告诉她，如果她还没有新归宿，如果她有心收容我回去，她就把一块黄手帕挂到橡树上，我就会下车回家。如果她不想要我回去，忘了吧--不要挂什么黄手帕了，我就不下车，继续坐下去。"

　　"哇!"那女孩大受感染，叫道，"哇!!"

　　她把故事告诉了同伴，很快，大家都沉浸其中了。随着布伦斯威克的接近，大家凝神屏气。文戈给他们看了几张已经被触摸了很多次的照片，那是他的妻子和3个孩子的照片：妻子穿戴朴素，一副精明强干的样子；孩子们仍天真稚气。

　　现在，他们离布伦斯威克20英里了。年青人占据了右边靠窗的位子，等着看那棵大橡树。而文戈不再看什么，只是绷紧了脸，好像在强迫自己面对另一次失望的到来。

　　离布伦斯威克10英里，5英里了。突然间，所有年青人都从座位上跃起，喊着，叫着，叫着，喊着，欢快地在狭小的汽车上跳了起来，但文戈除外。

　　他坐在原处看着橡树，简直是目瞪口呆：树上挂满了黄手帕，20块，30块，或许有数百块之多。那棵树犹如一面欢迎的旗帜，在风中舞动。在年青人的喊叫声中，这位老囚犯慢慢地从座位上站起身，下车--回家。