Appreciation of Lin Qingxuan’s Red Sweet Potatoes

Looking at it as a whole: In this article, Lin Qingxuan started with the new harvest of red sweet potatoes that his father sent me, and then recalled his childhood: once, he had an argument with children from the mainland, and they yelled "Sweet potatoes!" ! Sweet potato!", "We" scolded "Old taro! Old taro!".

These two words are "I" thinking that the shapes of Taiwan and mainland are like sweet potato and old taro. Taro, he thought "we" are the children of sweet potato, and the mainlanders are the children of old taro, but my father told "me", "We are also from the mainland, but we just came earlier." The "red sweet potato" in the article refers to Taiwan is a treasure island Taiwan and Taiwan compatriots with a Chinese heart and Chinese sentiments.

From a local perspective: "Red Heart Sweet Potato" refers to Taiwan and the small and insignificant people who left the mainland and lived in Taiwan. The old man insisted on calling "sweet potato" "sweet potato" because he did not change the local pronunciation. , in line with the character's language habits, showing that he misses his hometown and is proud of his hometown.

Extended information:

How are the "father" in the article and his generation similar to Fanshu. Points:

Having a heart that remains unchanged despite the ups and downs; living humble, small, and cautiously; hugging and warming each other; caring about hometown and being proud of it; having strong survivability, and can survive as long as there is soil .

The original text of Red Heart Sweet Potato: ?

When I was young, I had an argument with children from the Mainland, and they yelled: "Sweet potato!" Sweet potatoes! "We yelled back: "Old taro! Old taro! "I was confused about these two terms, so I went home and asked my father.

He opened an old map, pointed at Taiwan and said, "Taiwan looks like a sweet potato with a red heart. You are the children of this sweet potato! I pointed to the mainland and said, "Then, the shape of this continent is a big taro, so the mainlanders are the descendants of taro?" "My father laughed loudly, stroked my head and said, "Hey boy, we are also from the mainland, we just came earlier. ”

Then he used his pen to draw powerfully from our far northern hometown, implicating it in southern Taiwan where he lives. For the first time, I realized that taro and sweet potato are actually very similar plants, and they are not It was so completely different from what we imagined; and for the first time, we learned that in my hometown in the Northeast, where snow falls, there are also sweet potatoes with red hearts growing everywhere.

Where I live, there used to be a seller at the alley! The old man likes sweet potatoes. Those sweet potatoes are very small, but they always seem to record some treasures in his heart. Sometimes I buy a sweet potato from the old man and eat it when I come back from a walk. The honey-like taste enters my stomach, but there is a little bit of it. It's bitter, because the old man's face always reminds me of the hardships of running through the war.

The old man is a veteran who survived the civil war. His hometown is in a small remote county in Shandong. Once we got into an argument about sweet potatoes. , the old man insisted that the red sweet potatoes in Taiwan could not compare with the red sweet potatoes in his hometown. His reason was: "Taiwan has a lot of rain, so how can the sweet potatoes be as sweet as those in my hometown?" The sweet potatoes in my hometown are as sweet as honey! ”

The old man spoke as if he had returned to his hometown and was standing in the sweet potato field. Looking at his expression, I truly understood that although sweet potatoes are humble, they are connected to the land of nostalgia forever. Sprouts sprouting in the world of lovesickness?

After the sweet potatoes that my father planted were harvested, he gave me a big bag. After leaving it for a long time, I suddenly remembered the old man selling sweet potatoes at the alley, so I went to the alley to give it to him. , I didn’t expect the old man to switch to selling beef noodles because few people ate sweet potatoes.

I reluctantly carried the sweet potatoes home and threw the bag on the ground. A sweet potato jumped out of the bag and broke, revealing the inside. Why do these ignorant sweet potatoes still have red hearts after thirty years?

The old man and his father grew up in the same era with different backgrounds. In this big era, for small and insignificant people, perhaps only the broken red sweet potato can record the color of their hearts;

The color is like the sweet potato flowers in the morning, which used to exchange humble bulbs for each other. Hugging and warming each other, the reason why they can live humbly in the war of the world is because they have the pride of their hometown deep in their hearts. ?

When I was ten years old, my father brought me to the city for the first time. Walking through a construction site, my father could identify several sweet potato leaves at a glance among the piled bricks. We followed the stems of the leaves and finally found a root that was almost completely buried. My father said, "Look at this. Sweet potatoes can grow as long as there is soil on the roots.

”

Now that I think about it carefully, the sweet potato plant buried at the construction site has a life experience of fleeing. Because its feet are on the soil, suffering cannot bury it. Compared with the plant I planted on The sweet potato in the flower pot on the balcony of a high-rise building has a different destiny and different happiness, just like we are far away from the war for a hundred years and live in a building that seems to be private and safe, but we have the sadness of losing the soil.

The starry sky was quiet at night. I stood on the balcony and carefully examined the red sweet potato in the pot. I found that it had absorbed the night dew, and water droplets appeared on the thin leaves. Every leaf was covered with water. Breathing silently and carefully. At that time, I almost heard a big era with soil. The wild songs and low chants of the previous generation were buried in those small flower pots, and only the sensitivity of the quiet night could be heard.