Great Autobiographies of Three Great Women

Author: Helen Keller (USA)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2007-02-13
Features: Chapter Nightmare Descends On June 27, 1880, I was born in a small town called Tuscumbia in Alabama, southern United States. My paternal ancestors originally lived in Sweden and later immigrated and settled in Maryland, USA. I have an ancestor who was one of the earliest experts in deaf education in Zurich and wrote many works on deaf education. What a coincidence! Who could have imagined that he would have a deaf, blind, and mute descendant like me. Whenever I think about this incredible fact, I can't help but marvel at how unpredictable fate truly is! My grandfather cleared a vast amount of land in Tuscumbia, Alabama, and the entire family settled there. It is said that back then, my grandfather had to ride a horse from the remote Tuscumbia to Philadelphia, over 1,200 kilometers away, every year to purchase items needed for the estate and home, such as seeds, tools, fertilizer, and daily necessities. On the journey to Philadelphia, my grandfather often wrote letters to his family to report his safety. In the letters, he vividly described the scenery along the western route and the people and events he encountered. To this day, my aunt still keeps many of his letters, and everyone often takes them out to read them word by word, just like reading adventure novels, savoring every detail and finding them endlessly fascinating. My father, Arthur Keller, was a captain in the Confederate Army during the Civil War. My mother, Kate Adams, was his second wife and several years younger than him. Before I fell ill and lost my sight and hearing, becoming blind and mute, we lived in a small house that only consisted of a large square house and a small house for the servants. Back then, there was a custom in the South where a room was often added next to the foundation of the house for emergencies. After the Civil War, my father also added such a room, and after my mother and he got married, they moved into this small house. The small house was covered with lush grapevines, climbing roses, and honeysuckle, and from the garden, it looked like a pavilion made of branches and leaves. The small balcony was hidden among the yellow roses and southern ginseng flowers, where hummingbirds and bees thrived. Just a few steps away from our rose pavilion was the old house where my grandparents lived. The trees around our house were dense, and the fences were covered with lush English ivy, so the neighbors called our house "Green Haven." This old garden was the paradise of my childhood. Before my family teacher, Miss Sullivan, arrived at my home, I often went to the garden alone, slowly feeling my way along the hard and prickly square yew fence, guided by my sense of smell. I would search for the first blooms of violets and lilies, enjoying the fresh scent. Sometimes, after having a tantrum, I would also come here alone to seek comfort. I would hide my burning cheeks among the cool leaves and grass, and my agitated mood would gradually calm down. I would touch and explore eagerly. Sometimes, I would touch a vine and, based on the shape of its flowers and leaves, I would know that it was the vine covering the pavilion. Being in this "Green Haven" was truly refreshing.