An Integrated English Course BoAn Integrated English Course Book 3ok 3

Unit Ten

Learning ObjectivesLearning Objectives

• By the end of this unit, you are supposed to• understand the main idea, structure of the tex

t and the author’s writing style • master the key language points and grammati

cal structures in the text• consider the different love of the mother and t

he father

Teaching ProcedureTeaching Procedure

Pre-reading QuestionsText I. The Wonderful Lousy Poems ● Passage● Structural analysis● Main idea of the passage● Language points ● sentence studies ● vocabulary studies

Text II. Dad

Pre-reading Questions

1. Have you ever tried to write a poem?

2. How different is your father from your mother in their methods when they try to give you proper education?

Text I. The Wonderful Lousy Poems (aText I. The Wonderful Lousy Poems (abridged)bridged)

When I was eight or nine years old, I wrote my first poem.

At that time my father was a Hollywood tycoon, head of Paramount Studios. My mother was a founder and prime mover in various intellectual projects, helping to bring "culture" to the exuberant Hollywood community, of the 1920s.

My mother read the little poem and began to cry. "Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!" Shyly, proud-bursting, I stammered that I had. My mother poured out her welcome praise. Why, this poem was nothing short of genius. She had no idea that I had such talent for writing. I must write more poems, keep on writing, perhaps someday even publish them.

I glowed. "What time will Father be home?" I asked. I could hardly wait to show him what I had accomplished. My mother said she hoped he would be home around 7. I spent the best part of that afternoon preparing for his arrival.  

First, I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish. Then I used colored crayons to draw an elaborate border around it that would do justice to its brilliant content. Then I waited. As 7 o'clock drew near, I confidently placed it right on my father's plate on the dining-room table.

But my father did not return at 7. I rearranged the poem so it would appear at a slightly more advantageous angle on his plate. Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty. The suspense was exquisite. I admired my father. He had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. He would be able to appreciate this wonderful poem of mine even more than my mother.

This evening it was almost 8 o'clock when my father burst in, and his mood seemed thunderous. He was an hour late for dinner, but he could not sit down. He circled the long dining-room table with a Scotch highball in his hand, calling down terrible oaths on his glamorous employees. I can see him now, a big Havana cigar in one hand, the rapidly disappearing highball in the other, crying out against the sad fates that had sentenced him to the cruel job of running a teeming Hollywood studio.

"Imagine, we would have finished the picture tonight," my father was shouting. "Instead that blank blank MORON, that blank blank BLANK suddenly gets it into her beautiful but empty little head that she can't play the last scene. So the whole company has to stand there at $1,000 a minute while this silly little BLANK walks off the set! Now I have to go down to her beach house tonight and beg her to come back on Monday."

My father always paced determinedly as he ranted against the studio greats, and now as he wheeled he paused and glared at his plate. There was a suspenseful silence. He was reaching for my poem. I lowered my head and stared down into my plate. I was full of anxious daydreams. How wonderful it would be if this very first work of mine drove away the angry clouds that now darkened my important father's face!

"What is this?" I heard him say.

"Ben, Buddy has been waiting for you for hours," my mother said. "A wonderful thing has happened. Buddy has written his first poem. And it's beautiful, absolutely amaz-“

"If you don't mind, I'd like to decide that for myself," Father said.

Now was the moment of decision. I kept my face lowered to my plate. It could not have taken very long to read that poem. It was only 10 lines long. But it seemed to take hours. I remember wondering why it was taking so long. I could hear him dropping the poem back on the table again. I could not bear to look up for the verdict. But in a moment I was to hear it.

"I think it's lousy," my father said.

I couldn't look up. I was ashamed of my eyes getting wet.

"Ben, sometimes I don't understand you," my mother was saying. "This is just a little boy. You're not in your studio now. These are the first lines of poetry he's ever written. He needs encouragement."

"I don't know why," my father held his ground. "Isn't there enough lousy poetry in the world already? I don't know any law that says Buddy has to become a poet."

I forget what my mother said. I wasn't hearing so well because it is hard to hear clearly when your head is making its own sounds of crying. On my left, she was saying soothing things to me and critical things of my father. But I clearly remember his self-defense: "Look, I pay my best writers $2,000 a week. All afternoon I've been tearing apart their stuff. I only pay Buddy 50 cents a week. And you're trying to tell me I don't have a right to tear apart his stuff if I think it's lousy!“

That expressive vernacular adjective hit me over the heart like a hard fist. I couldn't stand it another second. I ran from the dining room bawling. I staggered up to my room and threw myself on the bed and sobbed. When I had cried the worst of the disappointment out of me, I could hear my parents still quarreling over my first poem at the dinner table.

  

That may have been the end of the anecdote — but not of its significance for me.

A few years later I took a second look at that first poem, and reluctantly I had to agree with my father's harsh judgment. It was a pretty lousy poem. After a while, I worked up the courage to show him something new, a primitive short story written in what I fancied to be the dark Russian manner. My father thought it was overwritten but not hopeless. I was learning to rewrite. And my mother was learning that she could criticize me without crushing me. You might say we were all learning. I was going on 12.

But it wasn't until I was at work on my first novel, a dozen years later, that the true meaning of that painful "first poem" experience dawned on me. I had written a first chapter, but I didn't think it was good enough. I wanted to do it over. My editor, a wise hand who had counseled O'Neill and Sinclair Lewis and William Faulkner, told me not to worry, to keep on going, the first chapter was fine. Keep writing, just let it flow, it's wonderful, he encouraged me. Only when it was all finished and I was in a triumphant glow of achievement did he take me down a peg. "That chapter may be a little weak at that. If I were you, I'd look at it again." Now, on the crest of having written a novel, I could absorb a sharp critical blow.

As I worked my way into other books and plays and films, it became clearer and clearer to me how fortunate I had been to have had a mother who said, "Buddy, did you really write this — I think it's wonderful!" and a father who shook his head no and drove me to tears with his, "I think it's lousy." A writer, in fact all of us in life, needs that mother force, the loving force from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is incomplete, even misleading, finally destructive, without the father force to caution, "Watch. Listen. Review. Improves."

Those conflicting but complementary voices of my childhood echo down through the years — wonderful, lousy, wonderful, lousy — like two powerful, opposing winds buffeting me. I try to navigate my little craft so as not to capsize before either. Between the two poles of affirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.

Structural analysisStructural analysis

The text can be divided into three parts.Part One: (Paragraphs 1-6) This is the introductory part of the text. B

udd wrote his first poem which is hightly praised by his mother and was now expecting his father’s arrival in excitement, for he was sure his father would appreciate his wonderful poem more than his mother.

Part Two: (Paragraphs 7-20) In this part, Budd’s father came home,

and beyound his expectation, the poem was denounced as “lousy”.

Part Three: (Para. 21-24): In this last part, the author makes a comparison between the father’s love and the mother’s love. He learns that although conflicting, they are complementary and in fact, both of them are indispensable to his growth.

Main Idea of the passage

The text is a story about the author’s past experience. While narrating his past experience, the author presents to the reader a portrait of his father in work, and toward the end of the text, he makes a comment of two kinds of forces love.

Comprehension questions

1. How did his father respond to Budd’s first poem?

His mother's response was positive and affirmative. She poured out her welcome praise and cried that she had not expected that her son had such a talent for poetry writing. She encouraged the son to keep on writing.

2. Why did Budd look forward to his father’s arrival?

His father was a Hollywood tycoon and began his career as a writer. Budd believed that his father would be able to discover his talent and appreciate his poem more than his mother did.

3. How did his father respond to the poem?

Quite beyond his expectation, his father at first ignored his poem and then, when he did notice it and read it, he dropped the poem back and declared that it is "lousy," which hurt Budd severely.

4. which kind of love was importatn to Budd’s growth, the mother’s love or the father’s love?

Both were important to Budd's growth. The mother's love was encouraging and inspiring. She encouraged Budd to keep on writing. The father's love was strict and stern. His principle in the education of the son was to "Watch. Listen. Review. Improve." These two kinds of love were indispensable in Budd's development. "I try to navigate my little craft so as not to capsize before either. " That is to say, both his mother's affirmation and his fatehr’s doubt were in the name of love, and Budd followed the course between them.

Language points

exuberant1) (of people and their behavior) overflowing

with life and cheerful excitement

His paintings were full of exuberant color.

2) (of plants) growing strongly and plentifully

The exuberant grouth fo a tropical rain forest

glow

to give out heat and/or soft light without flames or smoke

the iron bar was heated until it glowed.

(+with) to show redness and heat, esp. in the face, e.g., after hard work or because of strong feelings

She was glowing with health and happiness.

She glowed with pride at her son’s achievement.

elaborate: full of detail; carefully worked out and with a large number of parts

She made elaborate preparations for the party, and then no one came.

The curtains had an elaborate pattern of flowers.

do justice to: to treat in a fair or proper way; to geit the best result from

She cooked a delicious dinner, but we couldn’t really do it justice because we’d eaten too much already.

She didn’t do herself justice in the exam.

circleI) to move in a circle, especially in the air (ab

out / around / round) (over somebody / something)

vultures circling (around) over a dead animal 2) to move in or form a circle round (somebo

dy / something) The plane circled the airport before landin

g. The moon circles the earth every 28 days.

oath 1) (words used in making) a solemn promise to do so

mething or solemn declaration that something is true (usually appealing to God, etc. as a witness)

There is a standard form of oath used in law courts.

2) casual and improper use of the name of God, etc. to express anger, surpnse, etc. ;

swear-word

He hurled a few oaths at his wife and walked out, slamming the door.

glamorous: attractive, charming, exciting glamorous film stars glamor ~ attractive or exciting quality which som

ebody / something has, and which seems out of reach to others

hopeful young actors and actresses dazzled by the glamor of Hollywood

Now that she's an air hostess, foreign travel has lost its glamor for her.

sentence somebody (to something): to state that somebody is to have a certain punishment

He has been sentenced to three years in prison.

(figurative) a crippling disease which sentenced him to a lifetime in a wheelchair

blank I) without writing or print; unmarked a blank sheet of pa

per; a blank page 2) without expression, understanding or interest; empty a blank expression / face / gaze He looked blank. (= He is puzzled. ) Her questions drew blank looks all around. ( = No on

e seemed to know how to answer them. ) 3) (attributive) total;absolute a blank denial/refusal

rant:to speak loudly, violently or theatrically

He ranted (on) at me about my mistakes.

wheel 1) to push or pull (a vehicle with wheels)

wheel a barrow (along the street)

2) to move in a curve or circle

birds wheeling about in the sky above us Left / Right

glare n. 1) strong unpleasant dazzling light avoid the gla

re of the sun, of car headlights, etc. 2) angry or fierce look; fixed look give somebod

y a hostileglare v. 1) to shine with a dazzling, unpleasant light The searchlight glared, illuminating the prison

yard. 2) to stare angrily or fiercely (at somebody / so

mething) He didn't shout or swear, but just glared silent

ly at me.

hold one's ground: to maintain one's claim, intention, argument, etc. ; not to yield or give way

The speaker calmly held his ground in the face of angry opposition.

She held her ground in spite of all the counter-arguments.

tear apart : to destroy or defeat something completely; to criticize something harshly ms

The civil war tore the country apart.

Will his absence tear the whole project apart?

work up 1) to develop or improve something graduall

y work up a business

2) to increase something in numbers or strength working up the support for the party

crush 1) to press or squeeze (somebody / something) so har

d that it breaks or is damaged Several people were crushed to death by the faIling

rocks. 2) to break something hard into small pieces or into po

wder by pressing Huge hammers crush (up) the rocks. 3) to defeat (somebody / something) completely; to su

bdue The rebeIlion was crushed by government forces. He felt completely crushed by her last remark.

dawn on: to gradually become clear to one's mind; to become evident to somebody

It finally dawned on me that he had been lying.

The truth began to dawn on him.

counsel1) to give professional advice to (somebo

dy with a problem)

a psychiatrist who counsels alcoholics

2) to give (the stated advice)

I would counsel caution in such a case.

3) to advise

He counseled them to give up the plan.

take/bring somebody down a peg : to make (a proud or conceited person) more humble

The arrogant film star needs/wants taking down a peg or two.

on the crest of : at the point of great success, happiness, etc.

After its election victory, the party was on the crest of a wave.

echo 1) (of places) to send (something) back

The valley echoed back his song.

2) (figurative) (of people, places, etc. ) to repeat something; to imitate; to recall

They echoed their leader's every word.

3) (of places) to repeat a sound (to / with something)

The hills echoed to the sound of laughter.

buffet: to knock or push somebody / something roughly from side to side

flowers buffeted by the rain and wind

a boat buffeted (about) by the waves

navigate

1) to find the position and plot the course of a ship, an aircraft, a car etc. , using maps and instruments

Which officer in the ship navigates?

2) to steer (a ship) ; to pilot (an aircraft)

navigate the tanker around the Cape

3) to sail along, over or through (a sea, river, etc. )

Who first navigated the Atlantic?

capsize : to (cause a boat to) overturn or be overturned

The boat capsized in heavy seas.

Huge waves can capsize the ship.

Text II.Text II. Dad Dad Andrew H. MalcolmAndrew H. Malcolm

The first memory I have of him - of anything, really - is his strel was in the late afternoon in a house under construction near ours. The unfinished wood floor had large, terrifying holes whose yawning darkness I knew led where good. His powerful hands, then age 33, wrapped all the way around my tiny arms, then age 4, and easily swung me up to his shoulders to command all I surveyed.

The relationship between a son and his father changes over time. It may grow and flourish in mutual maturity. It may sour in resented dependence or independence. With many children living in single-parent homes today, it may not even exist.

But to a little boy right after World War II, a father seemed a god with strange strengths and uncanny powers enabling him to do and know things that no mortal could do or know. Amazing things, like putting a

bicycle chain back on, just like that. Or building a hamsterl cage. Or guiding a jigsaw so it formed the letter F; I learned the alphabet that way in those pre-television days, one letter or number every other evening plus a review of the collection. (The vowel we painted red because they were special somehow. )

He even seemed to know what I thought before I did. "you look like you could use a cheeseburger and chocolate shake, " he would say on hot Sunday afternoons. When, at the age of 5, I broke a neighbor's garage window with a wild curve bal1 and waited in fear for 10 days to IIlake the :mnouncement, he seemed to know about it already and to have been waiting for something.

There were, of course, rules to learn. First came the handshake. None of those fishy little finger grips, but a good firm squeeze accompanied by an equally strong gaze into the other's eyes. "The first thing anyone knows about you is your handshake," he would say. And we'd practice it each night on his return from work, the serious toddler in the battered Cleveland Indians cap running up to the giant father to shake hands again and again until it was firm enough.

When my cat killed a bird, he defused the anger of a 9-year-old with a little chat about something called "instinked. " The next year, when my dog got run over and the weight of sorrow was just too immense to stand, he was there, too, with his big arms and his own tears and some thoughts on the natural order of life and death, although what was natural about a speeding car that didn't stop always escaped me.

As time passed, there were other rules to learn. "Always do your best. " "Do it now." "NEVER LIE!" And most importantly, "You can do whatever you have to do. " By my teens, he wasn't telling me what to do anymore, which was scary and heady at the same time. He provided perspective, not telling me what was around the great comer of life but letting me know there was a lot more than just today and the next, which I hadn't thought of.

When the most important girl in the world – I forget her name now – turned down a movie date, he just happened to walk by the kitchen phone. "This may be hard to believe right now," he said, "but someday you won't even remember her name.”

One day, I realize now, there was a change. I wasn't trying to please hirr much as I was trying to impress him. I never asked him to come to my foot games. He had a high-pressure career, and it meant driving through most of Fri night. But for all the big games, when I looked over at the sideline, there was that familiar fedora. And, by God, did the opposing team captain ever get a firm ha shake and a gaze he would remember.

Then, a school fact contradicted something he said. Impossible that he cc be wrong, but there it was in the book. These accumulated over time, along with personal experiences, to buttress my own developing sense of values. And I could tell we had each taken our own, perfectly normal paths.

I began to see, too, his blind spot, his prejudices and his weakness. I never threw these up at him. He hadn't to me, and, anyway, he seemed to need pm tion. I stopped asking his advice; the experiences he drew from no longer seer relevant to the decisions I had to make. On the phone, he would go on about p tics at times, why he would vote the way he did or why some incumbent was a jerk. And I would roll my eyes to the ceiling and smile a little, though I hid it in my voice.

He volunteered advice for a while. But then, in more recent years, politics and issues gave way to talk of empty errands and, always, to ailments friends', my mother's and his own, which were serious and included heart disea He had a bedside oxygen tank, and he would ostentatiously retire there during visits, asking my help in easing his body onto the mattress. " You have very strong arms," he once noted.

From his bed, he showed me the many sores and scars on his misshapen body and all the bottles for medicine. He talked of the pain and craved much sympathy. He got some. But the scene was not attractive. He told me, as the doctor had. 1 his condition would only deteriorate. "Sometimes," he confided, "I would like to lie down and go to sleep and not wake up. "

After much thought and practice ("You can do whatever you have to do.”), one night last winter, I sat down by his bed and remembered for an instant th terrifying dark holes in another house 35 years before. I told my father how much I loved him. I described all the things people were doing for him. But, I said, hekept eating poorly, hiding in his room and violating other doctors' orders. No amount of love could make someone else care about life, I said; it was a two-way street. He wasn't doing his best. The decision was his.

He said he knew how hard my words had been to say and how proud he was of me. "I had the best teacher," I said. "You can do whatever you have to do. " He smiled a little. And we shook hands, firmly, for the last time.

Several days later, at about 4 a. m. , my mother heard Dad shuffling about their dark room. "I have something I have to do," he said. He paid a bundle of bills. He composed for my mother a long list of legal and financial what-to-do's "in case of emergency. " And he wrote me a note.

Then he walked back to his bed and laid himself down. He went to sleep, naturally. And he did not wake up.

1 ,189 words

Main idea of Text II

The author tells something between his father and him. Through his discription, we can see his father’s great influence on him and the development and change of his feelings towards his father. Also the readers can feel the strong love and attachment between the father and the son.

Topics for discussionTopics for discussion

1. Is it still important today for a man to display a firm handshake and a steady gaze into someone’s eyes? When would these gestures be most import?

These gestures seem not to be as important today as it was in wartime. But anyway, we need a firm handshake and a steady gaze under certain occasions, for example, when we are in trouble aT when we lack some kind of confidence. At this moment, a handshake, a gaze or a few words of encouragement will inspire us and urge us to overcome difficulties and go forward. In the same way, when other people are in trouble or meet some obstacles, a firm handshake and a steady gaze from us will also establish their courage and help them pull through difficulties.

2. How do you feel about Malcoln’s father crying with his son when the boy’s dog was killed?

A strong man as he was, Malcolm's father cried when the boy's dog was killed. For one thing, Malcolm's sorrow was too immense to stand. In order to comfort him and help him get over the sorrow, his father was there, with the son, and with tears in his eyes. His father was not as cool-blooded as what had been thought of. He was a person full of feelings and sympathies. For the other, his father thought of the natural order of life and death. The dog's unexpected death indiCates the unpredictability of life and death.

3. As you grew up, when did you shift from trying to please a parent to trying to impress that parent?

Children under ten years old will naturally please a parent with their ignorance and naivety. They are simple and artless, and often amuse their parents with funny words or behaviors. By the teens, they seldom want to please a parent with childish behaviors, but want to tell the parents that they are mature, not only physically but also mentally. They feel that they have grown up, and that they can do what parents can do. They want to impress their parents with what they have done. They hope that their parents will be proud of them. This question is open for discussion. Different students may have different responses to this question according to their own experiences. Teachers can ask the students to give specific examples to show that they are trying to impress their parents.

4. How well can a person younger than forty ( Malcolm’s age ) understand the problems involved in a parent’s afing and dying?

A person younger than forty may not have such a deep but sober-minded understanding as Malcolm has. Young people take it for granted that their parents will look after them all their lives, and will provide them with food, clothing and shelter. They hardly think of the fact that their parents will become old and one day one of them will die. This question is open for discussion.

Words and Expressions for Text Ilousy

a. (informal) very bad, unpleasant, useless; covered with licetycoon

n. a businessman or industrialist with great wealth and powerexuberant

a. (of people and their behavior) overflowing with life and cheerful excitement; (of plants) growing strongly and plentifully

proud-burstinga. full of pride; with overflowing pride

stammerv. to speak or say with pauses and repeated sounds, either habitually or because of excitement, fear, etc.

glowv. to give out heat and / or soft light without flames or smoke; to show redness and heat, especially in the face, e.g., after hard work or because of strong feelings

flourishn. a showy movement or manner that draws people's attention to somebody

crayonn. a stick of colored wax or chalk used for writing or drawing, especially on paper

suspensen. a state of uncertainty about something that is undecided or not yet known, causing either anxiety or sometimes pleasant excitement

exquisitea. very finely made or done; extremely beautiful or skillful; (of power to feel) sensitive and delicate

highballn. an alcoholic drink, especially whiskey or brandy mixed with water or soda and served with ice

oathn. a solemn promise; an expression of strong feeling using religious or sexual words improperly

rantv. (usually derogative) to talk in a loud, uncontrolled way, using grand but meaningless phrases

verdictn. the official decision made by a jury in a court of law at the end of a trial, especially about whether the prisoner is guilty or not guilty; (informal) a statement of opinion; judgment or decision given on any matter

soothev. to make less angry, excited, or anxious; to comfort or calm; to make less painful

vernacularn. the language spoken in a country or region, especially as compared with the official language

bawlv. to shout in a loud rough voice; to cry noisily

staggerv. to walk or move unsteadily and with great difficulty, almost falling

anecdoten. a short interesting or amusing story about a person or event

dawnv. to begin to be perceived or understood

counselv. (formal) to advise as a suitable course of action; to give advice and support (especially somebody experiencing difficulty)

triumphanta. victorious or successful; taking great pride and joy in one's success or victory

pegn. a short piece of wood, metal, etc., usually thinner at one end than at the other, used for fastening things, hanging things on, etc.

crestn. a showy growth of feathers on top of a bird's head; the top or highest point of something, especially of a hill or a wave

buffetv. to strike forcefully or repeatedly

navigatev. to direct the course of (a ship, plane, etc.); to go by sea, air, etc. from one side to the other (of a place)

capsizev. (especially of a boat) to turn over 　

Notes for Text I1. About the author and the text : Budd Sch

ulberg (1914 - ), American novelist, short story writer, screen writer, and contributor to major national magazines, is the author of What Makes Sammy Run (1941) , The Disenchanted (1950) , and On the Waterfront (1954). The son of "a Hollywood tycoon," Schulberg invests the above auto-biographical account with the drama of film community life in the 1920s, even as he finds in a childhood crisis the sources of the creative process.

2.My mother was a founder and prime mover in various intellectual projects... (Paragraph 2): My mother was one of those who engaged in the establishment of various intellectual projects, and she had great influence in the development of these projects. Here, "prime mover" refers to a person or thing that has great influence in the development of something important.

3. Why. this poem was nothing short of genius. (Paragraph 3) : Oh, this poem showed that you had talent for being a poet. Here, "nothing short of" is used to add force to a statement, meaning "nothing less than," "as good as. “

4. ... my father held his ground. (Paragraph 17) : ... my father maintained his argument; he insisted that my poem was "lousy. "

5. that she could criticize me without crushing me. (Paragraph 21) : ... that she could judge my poem with disapproval and point out its faults, but not discourage me and destroy me.

Notes for Text II1. about the author : Andrew H. Malcolm was born in 19

43 in Cleveland, Ohio. He studied journalism at Northwestern University and then joined The New York Times in 1967 as a news clerk. He worked as a reporter for The New York Times in New York, Chicago, and San Francisco and as a foreign correspondent for the newspaper in the Far East and Toronto before being assigned to Chicago as bureau chief in 1982. He has won major awards for reporting, and is the author of Unknown America, published in 1975.

2. It may grow and flourish in mutual maturity. It may sour in resented dependence or independ"nee. (Paragraph 2) : The relationship between a son and his father will be getting better upon their mutual understanding and tolerance. But if their dependence on each other or independence of each other develops hatred or indignation between them, the relationship between the father and the son may be destroyed.

3. hamster (Paragraph 3) : 仓鼠

4. None of those fishy little finger grips, but a good firm squeeze accompanied by an equally strong gaze into the other's eyes. (Paragraph.S) : In handshaking, father did not grip a person's hand with his fingers that were expressionless, but squeezed a person's hand firmly, with his eyes looking at the other steadily and strongly.

5. I wasn't trying to please him so much as I was trying to impress him. (Paragraph 9) : When I was getting old, I was trying to leave him a strong impression by what I had done; I was trying to do something so as to have my father proud of me and of what I did. I no longer did some childish or naive mischief to please him.

6. ... or why some incumbent was a jerk. (Paragraph 11): ... he explained to me why he thought the person in power was a foolish and incapable one.

7. No amount of love could make someone else care about life, 1 said; it was a two-way street. ( Paragraph 14): No matter how much I love you, my father, no one but you can take care of yourself. If you do not take good care of yourself and make your life more comfortable in a healthy way, it amounts to nothing even if I try to change your way of life unilaterally. You should also make efforts to change your way of life.