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Of course， she wasn’t really my aunt and， out of fear， I never called her that to her face. I only referred to her as “My Aunt Fannie” because the name always made my father chuckle and gave my mother cause to look sternly at both of us—at me for being disrespectful of my elder and at my father for encouraging my bad behavior. I enjoyed both reaction so I looked for every opportunity to work the name into as many conversations as possible.
As a young woman， my mother had worked in the kitchen of a large Victorian farmhouse owned by Fannie Cratty and her twin brother， Farnsworth. They represented the end of the Cratty line. Neither had married nor had any living heirs and my father once told me （in a whisper） that it was because they were both too stingy to share their family wealth or pass it on. During those years my mother helped Aunt Fanny make the best blueberry cobbler jam ever tasted by anyone in Glenfield. She was noted for her jam and for never sharing the recipe with another living soul. （This was the real source of contention among the Baptist women.） Even though my mother knew the recipe by heart， as long as Aunt Fannie was alive （and she lived to be ninety-six！）， she never made the jam without Ms. Cratty in our kitchen to direct the process and preserve the secret.
Each August， when blueberry season would roll around， my mother would prepare me for Aunt Fannie’s visit. It was imperative that I be on my best behavior. After all， the woman was old， wealthy， stern， and a pillar of the church （I guess that would make her my “sainted” Aunt Fannie）. Reverend Nash had once preached on the consequences of looking on sinful things and had told about Lot’s wife being turned to a pillar of salt because she looked back on wicked Sodom and Gomorrah. I didn’t know what Aunt Fannie had looked at， but it must have been pretty bad. Whatever it was it had left her hair a decided shade of blue and turned her into a pillar of the church. Whenever she was at the house， I didn’t need to be reminded to guard my thoughts and watch my tongue.
One year， after I had been particularly helpful with the jam process， Aunt Fannie gave me a quarter and then made me promise that I would never spend it. “Hold onto this quarter，” she said， “and someday you will be rich. I still have my very first quarter， given to me by my grandfather.”It had obviously worked for her. So， I tucked the 1938-quarter in a small box， put it in my dresser drawer， and waited to become rich. I now have the blueberry cobbler jam recipe and the quarter from Aunt Fannie. In people’s eye Aunt Fannie’s success was attributed to that secret recipe. But to me， it was just a common recipe. Neither have significantly contributed to my net worth， but I keep them as reminders to hold onto the valuable things in life. Money can make you feel rich for a while， but it is the relationships and the memories of time spent with friends and family that truly leave you wealthy. And that is a fortune that anyone can build.
当然，她并非真是我的姨妈，并且出于对她的恐惧，我从没当面这样称呼过她。我只是在提及她时才用“我的芬妮姨妈”作指代，因为这个称呼总惹得我父亲咯咯笑，还使得我母亲板起脸来直瞪着我和父亲——瞪着我是因为我对长辈不尊重，瞪着父亲是因为他纵容我使坏。两种反应都让我乐在其中，所以我总是伺机尽可能地将那个称呼用到我们平常的对话中。
我母亲年轻时在一栋建于维多利亚时代的农舍里的大户人家当厨房帮工。房子的主人是芬妮·克瑞蒂和她那龙凤胎胞弟法斯沃·克瑞蒂。他们是克瑞蒂家族的最后一代人。他俩谁都没有结婚生子。一次，父亲（悄悄地）告诉我，那是因为他俩都是吝啬鬼，极其不情愿和外人分享自己的家族财富，也不愿将这些财富留给子孙后代。那些年里，我母亲帮芬妮姨妈做出整个格兰菲尔镇公认最为美味的蓝莓馅饼酱。芬妮姨妈因蓝莓酱而闻名，同时也因不愿与任何人分享其秘方而著称。（这确实在浸礼会妇女中引起了一番争论。）尽管那个秘方我母亲早已背得滚瓜烂熟，但只要芬妮姨妈还在世（她可是活到了96岁！），没有克瑞蒂女士在我们厨房里指挥整个制作流程以此来守住这个秘方，母亲绝不会私下做那种蓝莓酱。
每逢八月是蓝莓的成熟期，母亲会让我为芬妮姨妈的到访做好准备。她会命令我以最佳表现示人。毕竟，这女人已经上了年纪，富有且苛刻，还是教堂里的支柱人物。（我想就是因为这样使得芬妮姨妈成为了我心中的“圣人”。）尊敬的纳什牧师做过一个布道，关于偷看罪恶之物的后果，还给我们讲了罗德的妻子因为回头看了罪恶之都索多玛以及哥摩拉城，因而变成了一根盐柱的故事。我不知道芬妮姨妈看过什么东西，但肯定是很糟的东西。无论那是什么，它使得她的头发变成纯蓝色，并把她变成了教堂里的支柱。她一到我家，我就会自觉地不敢乱想，不敢乱说。
有一年，在我特别用心使劲地帮忙做蓝莓酱之后，芬妮姨妈给了我一枚价值25分的硬币，并要我承诺决不会花了它。“抓牢这枚硬币，”她说道，“有一天你就会变富有。我仍收藏着自己拿到的第一枚硬币，是我爷爷给我的。”保存好能带来成功的第一枚硬币显然对她奏效。所以，我把那枚1938年制造的硬币塞进一个小盒子里，把盒子放进我的梳妆台抽屉里，等着变成有钱人。
我现在拥有了蓝莓馅饼酱的秘方，以及芬妮姨妈给我的那枚硬币。在人们眼里，芬妮姨妈的成功归功于那个秘方。但对我而言，那不过是一个很普通的烹饪方法，那枚硬币也好，烹饪方法也好，都没为我的净资产的积累做出什么贡献，但我仍留着它们，只想借其提醒自己把握住人生中那些珍贵的东西。金钱可以暂时让你感觉富有，但唯有和他人的关系以及和朋友家人一起度过的那些日子的回忆才会真正让你变得富有。而那是每个人都可以创造的财富。
As a young woman， my mother had worked in the kitchen of a large Victorian farmhouse owned by Fannie Cratty and her twin brother， Farnsworth. They represented the end of the Cratty line. Neither had married nor had any living heirs and my father once told me （in a whisper） that it was because they were both too stingy to share their family wealth or pass it on. During those years my mother helped Aunt Fanny make the best blueberry cobbler jam ever tasted by anyone in Glenfield. She was noted for her jam and for never sharing the recipe with another living soul. （This was the real source of contention among the Baptist women.） Even though my mother knew the recipe by heart， as long as Aunt Fannie was alive （and she lived to be ninety-six！）， she never made the jam without Ms. Cratty in our kitchen to direct the process and preserve the secret.
Each August， when blueberry season would roll around， my mother would prepare me for Aunt Fannie’s visit. It was imperative that I be on my best behavior. After all， the woman was old， wealthy， stern， and a pillar of the church （I guess that would make her my “sainted” Aunt Fannie）. Reverend Nash had once preached on the consequences of looking on sinful things and had told about Lot’s wife being turned to a pillar of salt because she looked back on wicked Sodom and Gomorrah. I didn’t know what Aunt Fannie had looked at， but it must have been pretty bad. Whatever it was it had left her hair a decided shade of blue and turned her into a pillar of the church. Whenever she was at the house， I didn’t need to be reminded to guard my thoughts and watch my tongue.
One year， after I had been particularly helpful with the jam process， Aunt Fannie gave me a quarter and then made me promise that I would never spend it. “Hold onto this quarter，” she said， “and someday you will be rich. I still have my very first quarter， given to me by my grandfather.”It had obviously worked for her. So， I tucked the 1938-quarter in a small box， put it in my dresser drawer， and waited to become rich. I now have the blueberry cobbler jam recipe and the quarter from Aunt Fannie. In people’s eye Aunt Fannie’s success was attributed to that secret recipe. But to me， it was just a common recipe. Neither have significantly contributed to my net worth， but I keep them as reminders to hold onto the valuable things in life. Money can make you feel rich for a while， but it is the relationships and the memories of time spent with friends and family that truly leave you wealthy. And that is a fortune that anyone can build.
当然，她并非真是我的姨妈，并且出于对她的恐惧，我从没当面这样称呼过她。我只是在提及她时才用“我的芬妮姨妈”作指代，因为这个称呼总惹得我父亲咯咯笑，还使得我母亲板起脸来直瞪着我和父亲——瞪着我是因为我对长辈不尊重，瞪着父亲是因为他纵容我使坏。两种反应都让我乐在其中，所以我总是伺机尽可能地将那个称呼用到我们平常的对话中。
我母亲年轻时在一栋建于维多利亚时代的农舍里的大户人家当厨房帮工。房子的主人是芬妮·克瑞蒂和她那龙凤胎胞弟法斯沃·克瑞蒂。他们是克瑞蒂家族的最后一代人。他俩谁都没有结婚生子。一次，父亲（悄悄地）告诉我，那是因为他俩都是吝啬鬼，极其不情愿和外人分享自己的家族财富，也不愿将这些财富留给子孙后代。那些年里，我母亲帮芬妮姨妈做出整个格兰菲尔镇公认最为美味的蓝莓馅饼酱。芬妮姨妈因蓝莓酱而闻名，同时也因不愿与任何人分享其秘方而著称。（这确实在浸礼会妇女中引起了一番争论。）尽管那个秘方我母亲早已背得滚瓜烂熟，但只要芬妮姨妈还在世（她可是活到了96岁！），没有克瑞蒂女士在我们厨房里指挥整个制作流程以此来守住这个秘方，母亲绝不会私下做那种蓝莓酱。
每逢八月是蓝莓的成熟期，母亲会让我为芬妮姨妈的到访做好准备。她会命令我以最佳表现示人。毕竟，这女人已经上了年纪，富有且苛刻，还是教堂里的支柱人物。（我想就是因为这样使得芬妮姨妈成为了我心中的“圣人”。）尊敬的纳什牧师做过一个布道，关于偷看罪恶之物的后果，还给我们讲了罗德的妻子因为回头看了罪恶之都索多玛以及哥摩拉城，因而变成了一根盐柱的故事。我不知道芬妮姨妈看过什么东西，但肯定是很糟的东西。无论那是什么，它使得她的头发变成纯蓝色，并把她变成了教堂里的支柱。她一到我家，我就会自觉地不敢乱想，不敢乱说。
有一年，在我特别用心使劲地帮忙做蓝莓酱之后，芬妮姨妈给了我一枚价值25分的硬币，并要我承诺决不会花了它。“抓牢这枚硬币，”她说道，“有一天你就会变富有。我仍收藏着自己拿到的第一枚硬币，是我爷爷给我的。”保存好能带来成功的第一枚硬币显然对她奏效。所以，我把那枚1938年制造的硬币塞进一个小盒子里，把盒子放进我的梳妆台抽屉里，等着变成有钱人。
我现在拥有了蓝莓馅饼酱的秘方，以及芬妮姨妈给我的那枚硬币。在人们眼里，芬妮姨妈的成功归功于那个秘方。但对我而言，那不过是一个很普通的烹饪方法，那枚硬币也好，烹饪方法也好，都没为我的净资产的积累做出什么贡献，但我仍留着它们，只想借其提醒自己把握住人生中那些珍贵的东西。金钱可以暂时让你感觉富有，但唯有和他人的关系以及和朋友家人一起度过的那些日子的回忆才会真正让你变得富有。而那是每个人都可以创造的财富。