比尔·克林顿的时间与生活管理

需积分: 31 193 浏览量更新于2023-07-24 1 收藏 11.1MB PDF 举报

"Bill Clinton-my life" 本书是比尔·克林顿（Bill Clinton）的自传《我的生活》。在书中，克林顿分享了他早年的生活经历、职业发展，以及成为美国总统的过程。这本书的一个关键主题是时间管理和人生目标设定的重要性。他提到自己在年轻时，出于好奇阅读了一本名为《如何掌控你的时间与生活》（How to Get Control of Your Time and Your Life）的自助书籍，作者是艾伦·莱金（Alan Lakein）。这本书强调了列出短期、中期和长期生活目标的必要性，并根据重要性进行分类，A类是最重要，B类次之，C类最后，然后为每个目标列出实现它们的具体行动步骤。在自传中，读者可以期待了解到克林顿的个人成长故事，包括他的家庭背景、教育经历、政治生涯的起步，以及他在国内外政策上的决策。书中包含多个章节，每个章节都代表了他人生中的一个重要阶段或事件，如早期的公共服务、婚姻、家庭、总统竞选以及在任期内面临的挑战，如经济政策、社会改革和国际关系等。通过《我的生活》，读者不仅可以深入理解比尔·克林顿这位政治家的思想和决策过程，还能洞察他的个人价值观和信念，以及他是如何将这些理念融入到他的领导风格和公共政策中的。书中的照片插入则为读者提供了视觉上的历史记录，增加了对克林顿生活和时代背景的感知。此外，书末的附录部分可能包含了致谢、照片版权信息等，进一步展示了克林顿对那些影响他生活的人的感激之情，以及对著作背后团队的承认。这部自传不仅是克林顿个人的叙述，也是对一个时代的见证，反映了个人成长与历史进程的交织。《我的生活》是一部关于比尔·克林顿全面而深刻的个人历史，它教导读者如何设定和实现个人目标，同时展现了领导力、决策制定和面对挑战时的智慧。通过阅读，读者不仅能学习到时间管理的技巧，还能从中汲取关于领导力、人际关系和公共服务的宝贵经验。

the human condition. He never lost his sense of humor. He was still driving at eighty-seven,

when he took two lady friends, aged ninety-one and ninety-three, for drives separately once a

week. When he told me about his “dates,” I asked, “So you like these older women now?” He

snickered and said, “Yeah, I do. Seems like they’re a little more settled.”

In all our years together, I saw my uncle cry only once. Ollie developed Alzheimer’s and had

to be moved to a nursing home. For several weeks afterward, she knew who she was for a few

minutes a day. During those lucid intervals, she would call Buddy and say, “Oren, how could

you leave me in this place after fifty-six years of marriage? Come get me right now.” He

would dutifully drive over to see her, but by the time he got there, she would be lost again in

the mists of the disease and didn’t know him.

It was during this period that I stopped by to see him late one afternoon, our last visit at the

old house. I was hoping to cheer him up. Instead, he made me laugh with bawdy jokes and

droll comments on current events. When darkness fell, I told him I had to go back home to

Little Rock. He followed me to the door, and as I was about to walk out, he grabbed my arm. I

turned and saw tears in his eyes for the first and only time in almost fifty years of love and

friendship. I said, “This is really hard, isn’t it?” I’ll never forget his reply. He smiled and said,

“Yeah, it is, but I signed on for the whole load, and most of it was pretty good.” My uncle

Buddy taught me that everyone has a story. He told his in that one sentence.

THREE

After the year in New Orleans, Mother came home to Hope eager to put her anesthesia

training into practice, elated at being reunited with me, and back to her old fun-loving self.

She had dated several men in New Orleans and had a fine time, according to her

memoir,Leading with My Heart, which I’m sure would have been a bestseller if she had lived

to promote it.

However, before, during, and after her sojourn in New Orleans, Mother was dating one man

more than anyone else, the owner of the local Buick dealership, Roger Clinton. She was a

beautiful, high-spirited widow. He was a handsome, hell-raising, twice-divorced man from

Hot Springs, Arkansas’ “Sin City,” which for several years had been home to the largest

illegal gambling operation in the United States. Roger’s brother Raymond owned the Buick

dealership in Hot Springs, and Roger, the baby and “bad boy” of a family of five, had come to

Hope to take advantage of the war activity around the Southwestern Proving Ground and

perhaps to get out of his brother’s shadow.

Roger loved to drink and party with his two best buddies from Hot Springs, Van Hampton

Lyell, who owned the Coca-Cola bottling plant across the street from Clinton Buick, and

Gabe Crawford, who owned several drugstores in Hot Springs and one in Hope, later built

Hot Springs’ first shopping center, and was then married to Roger’s gorgeous niece, Virginia,

a woman I’ve always loved, who was the very first Miss Hot Springs. Their idea of a good

time was to gamble, get drunk, and do crazy, reckless things in cars or airplanes or on

motorcycles. It’s a wonder they didn’t all die young.

Mother liked Roger because he was fun, paid attention to me, and was generous. He paid for

her to come home to see me several times when she was in New Orleans, and he probably

paid for the train trips Mammaw and I took to see Mother.

Papaw liked Roger because he was nice both to me and to him. For a while after my

grandfather quit the icehouse because of severe bronchial problems, he ran a liquor store.

Near the end of the war, Hempstead County, of which Hope is the county seat, voted to go

“dry.” That’s when my grandfather opened his grocery store. I later learned that Papaw sold

liquor under the counter to the doctors, lawyers, and other respectable people who didn’t want

to drive the thirty-three miles to the nearest legal liquor store in Texarkana, and that Roger

was his supplier.

Mammaw really disliked Roger because she thought he was not the kind of man her daughter

and grandson should be tied to. She had a dark side her husband and daughter lacked, but it

enabled her to see the darkness in others that they missed. She thought Roger Clinton was

nothing but trouble. She was right about the trouble part, but not the “nothing but.” There was

more to him than that, which makes his story even sadder.

As for me, all I knew was that he was good to me and had a big brown and black German

shepherd, Susie, that he brought to play with me. Susie was a big part of my childhood, and

started my lifelong love affair with dogs.

Mother and Roger got married in Hot Springs, in June 1950, shortly after her twenty-seventh

birthday. Only Gabe and Virginia Crawford were there. Then Mother and I left her parents’

home and moved with my new stepfather, whom I soon began to call Daddy, into a little

white wooden house on the south end of town at 321 Thirteenth Street at the corner of Walker

Street. Not long afterward, I started calling myself Billy Clinton.

My new world was exciting to me. Next door were Ned and Alice Williams. Mr. Ned was a

retired railroad worker who built a workshop behind his house filled with a large sophisticated

model electric-train setup. Back then every little kid wanted a Lionel train set. Daddy got me

one and we used to play with it together, but nothing could compare to Mr. Ned’s large

intricate tracks and beautiful fast trains. I spent hours there. It was like having my own

Disneyland next door.

My neighborhood was a class-A advertisement for the post–World War II baby boom. There

were lots of young couples with kids. Across the street lived the most special child of all,

Mitzi Polk, daughter of Minor and Margaret Polk. Mitzi had a loud roaring laugh. She would

swing so high on her swing set the poles of the frame would come up out of the ground, as she

bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Billy sucks a bottle! Billy sucks a bottle!” She drove me

nuts. After all, I was getting to be a big boy and I did no such thing.

I later learned that Mitzi was developmentally disabled. The term wouldn’t have meant

anything to me then, but when I pushed to expand opportunities for the disabled as governor

and President, I thought often of Mitzi Polk.

A lot happened to me while I lived on Thirteenth Street. I started school at Miss Marie

Purkins’ School for Little Folks kindergarten, which I loved until I broke my leg one day

jumping rope. And it wasn’t even a moving rope. The rope in the playground was tied at one

end to a tree and at the other end to a swing set. The kids would line up on one side and take

turns running and jumping over it. All the other kids cleared the rope.

One of them was Mack McLarty, son of the local Ford dealer, later governor of Boys State,

all-star quarterback, state legislator, successful businessman, and then my first White House

chief of staff. Mack always cleared every hurdle. Luckily for me, he always waited for me to

catch up.

Me, I didn’t clear the rope. I was a little chunky anyway, and slow, so slow that I was once

the only kid at an Easter egg hunt who didn’t get a single egg, not because I couldn’t find

them but because I couldn’t get to them fast enough. On the day I tried to jump rope I was

wearing cowboy boots to school. Like a fool, I didn’t take the boots off to jump. My heel

caught on the rope, I turned, fell, and heard my leg snap. I lay in agony on the ground for

several minutes while Daddy raced over from the Buick place to get me.

I had broken my leg above the knee, and because I was growing so fast, the doctor was

reluctant to put me in a cast up to my hip. Instead, he made a hole through my ankle, pushed a

stainless steel bar through it, attached it to a stainless steel horseshoe, and hung my leg up in

the air over my hospital bed. I lay like that for two months, flat on my back, feeling both

foolish and pleased to be out of school and receiving so many visitors. I took a long time

getting over that leg break. After I got out of the hospital, my folks bought me a bicycle, but I

never lost my fear of riding without the training wheels. As a result, I never stopped feeling

that I was clumsy and without a normal sense of balance until, at the age of twenty-two, I

finally started riding a bike at Oxford. Even then I fell a few times, but I thought of it as

building my pain threshold.

I was grateful to Daddy for coming to rescue me when I broke my leg. He also came home

from work a time or two to try to talk Mother out of spanking me when I did something

wrong. At the beginning of their marriage he really tried to be there for me. I remember once

he even took me on the train to St. Louis to see the Cardinals, then our nearest major league

baseball team. We stayed overnight and came home the next day. I loved it. Sadly, it was the

only trip the two of us ever took together. Like the only time we ever went fishing together.

The only time we ever went out into the woods to cut our own Christmas tree together. The

only time our whole family took an out-of-state vacation together. There were so many things

that meant a lot to me but were never to occur again. Roger Clinton really loved me and he

loved Mother, but he couldn’t ever quite break free of the shadows of self-doubt, the phony

security of binge drinking and adolescent partying, and the isolation from and verbal abuse of

Mother that kept him from becoming the man he might have been.

One night his drunken self-destructiveness came to a head in a fight with my mother I can’t

ever forget. Mother wanted us to go to the hospital to see my great-grandmother, who didn’t

have long to live. Daddy said she couldn’t go. They were screaming at each other in their

bedroom in the back of the house. For some reason, I walked out into the hall to the doorway

of the bedroom. Just as I did, Daddy pulled a gun from behind his back and fired in Mother’s

direction. The bullet went into the wall between where she and I were standing. I was stunned

and so scared. I had never heard a shot fired before, much less seen one. Mother grabbed me

and ran across the street to the neighbors. The police were called. I can still see them leading

Daddy away in handcuffs to jail, where he spent the night.

I’m sure Daddy didn’t mean to hurt her and he would have died if the bullet had accidentally

hit either of us. But something more poisonous than alcohol drove him to that level of

debasement. It would be a long time before I could understand such forces in others or in

myself. When Daddy got out of jail he had sobered up in more ways than one and was so

ashamed that nothing bad happened for some time.

I had one more year of life and schooling in Hope. I went to first grade at Brookwood School;

my teacher was Miss Mary Wilson. Although she had only one arm, she didn’t believe in

sparing the rod, or, in her case, the paddle, into which she had bored holes to cut down on the

wind resistance. On more than one occasion I was the recipient of her concern.

In addition to my neighbors and Mack McLarty, I became friends with some other kids who

stayed with me for a lifetime. One of them, Joe Purvis, had a childhood that made mine look

idyllic. He grew up to be a fine lawyer, and when I was elected attorney general, I hired Joe

on my staff. When Arkansas had an important case before the U.S. Supreme Court, I went,

but I let Joe make the argument. Justice Byron “Whizzer” White sent me a note from the

bench saying that Joe had done a good job. Later, Joe became the first chairman of my

Birthplace Foundation.

Besides my friends and family, my life on Thirteenth Street was marked by my discovery of

the movies. In 1951 and 1952, I could go for a dime: a nickel to get in, a nickel for a Coke. I

went every couple of weeks or so. Back then, you got a feature film, a cartoon, a serial, and a

newsreel. The Korean War was on, so I learned about that. Flash Gordon and Rocket Man

were the big serial heroes. For cartoons, I preferredBugs Bunny, Casper the Friendly Ghost,

andBaby Huey, with whom I probably identified. I saw a lot of movies, and especially liked

the westerns. My favorite wasHigh Noon— I probably saw it half a dozen times during its run

in Hope, and have seen it more than a dozen times since. It’s still my favorite movie, because

剩余776页未读，继续阅读

xiongliang190

粉丝: 0
资源: 4

比尔·克林顿的时间与生活管理

BillClinton MyLife

MY LIFE(克林顿自传)

clinton-montessori

Billary Clinton-crx插件

Hitler Clinton-crx插件

clinton-emails:希拉里罗德姆克林顿的电子邮件

clinton-email:使用STM（结构主题模型），k均值聚类和情感分析来分析希拉里·克林顿的电子邮件

克林顿「Billary Clinton」-crx插件

CLINTON

希拉里. 克林顿选项卡「Hillary Clinton Tab」-crx插件

最新资源