Our family is what my father would like to say as "broken." Each one of us is different in our own ways. We're not broken in a way that a family can be; my parents are still married and all of my brothers and I are pretty healthy. I know we are somewhat different, but why are we "broken?"
My parents were a cute kind of couple; they met at Travis Air Force Base as they were on the same intramural softball team on base. After a few months of dating, they decided to elope because it was much easier than trying to bring my mother's family from Spokane, Washington and my dad's family from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, together. My father is of average height, with his balding hair very short and has dark brown hair with large speckles of gray hair interspersed upon his head. He has a large build and people view him as a bit intimidating, but it depends on the mood--at least with his children anyway. My father can be a bit hot tempered, but has simmered through the years because, I think, we have gotten older and will only show his disappointment. My mother is almost the opposite; she’s very calm and soft spoken with her being around five foot eight or average height with short, light brown hair with streaks of gray if she didn’t dye her hair in a while. Her medium brown eyes are very calming and I get along best with her, personality wise and just in general; she was the one to tell us if we were likely to go to a friends house and to calm us down if our father said things he didn’t mean and so on.
They then had three sons, P.J., Matt, Danny (in order from oldest to youngest) and one daughter, me. People say we are a rich family because we live in beautiful brown house, right next to an alfalfa field with an acre of space surrounding it. Living near cornfields and a few other houses in the town of Greene, where they only have a volunteer fire department, town hall, and a church. The "Big Brown House" (which was what people called it in town because of its distinguishable nature on that country road) that is named as our own, has a dark brown coat on the vinyl siding with beautiful trees that my father put in himself, now very tall maple trees that litter the front yard surrounded by marigolds of oranges, yellows, reds, along with other colorful flowers.
The inside is filled with beautiful coffee colored walls and the wooden banister leading up the stairs to an open kitchen and living room to the left of the stairs. The yellow colored kitchen and dining room area was purposely set up in the house because of its happy color, but seems almost ridiculous now to see. The house throughout the years has been fixed up with different colors, every room, except for my own that still has the light pink wallpaper with a cute little border of light blue houses repetitively along the walls. But with the added touches of several collages of pictures over the years of friends and trips along with several posters of guitar chords, art I made for classes, and a big kitty poster, it adds a nice touch--at least I think so. My father tried taking down the wallpaper border, but gave up because he knew it would be too much trouble for me to go take it all down off the walls. So my room is the only one with its wallpaper still intact. It could be that my father was too tired of re-doing the walls of the house by the time he got to mine, but I think he just didn’t want to upset me and always had a kind of sore spot for me being the only girl of four children.
Everything seemed alright; our family was never really rich, but we never had too many financial problems or anything. Except this one time when I was about eleven, my mother had to take a trip to Puerto Rico to fix a plane over there (she is an electrician for cargo planes like C-70s) and they get some free time. Well, she decided to go to a casino with other co-workers and I remember it was a hot summer afternoon, and my father was on the phone with my mom. He started to get this angry tone that he gets and face got very tense as his brown eyes grow darker with sweat shining his forehead and balding head, he starts yelling and goes to his room down the hall and slams the door. You could hear his voice and he comes back out with our jar of coins and had us starting to roll the coins and kept ranting about how my mother has made us go bankrupt. I remember sitting there trying to roll up pennies, and wondering what’ll happen if we don’t recover from this. I seems to remember a lot of the bad memories just as well as the good ones, which many people may suppress, which is why I’m not surprised that I remember this random memories.
Not much was said after this incident and we kept the handsome house. The family evolved in personality while the Wagner kids started to grow up. Matt became the dedicated student, being on the Dean’s List a few times last year here at Ohio University. Being the shortest of the family, his five foot and eight inches stature is athletic, with wavy, short brown hair with matching eyes that could pick out anything wrong in anyone or anything. When we were younger, we were close in age being the middle children and got along quite well. Today it’s the opposite though; I’m more easy going and take life as it comes while he is the one who worries and prepares for everything. I noticed things weren’t the same between us when he was driving us home an hour-ish after midnight after getting the last book of the seventh year of Harry Potter and we were having a good time. We were driving in the summer night air, with the windows slightly open bringing in the chilly air as we kept driving the half an hour back to our home. I don't remember what really sparked it, but he got upset with me and started yelling at me. "I can't believe you. . . you are so stupid! All you think about is yourself," and a lot of other horrible remarks that I was trying to tune out at the time until he said, "Lisa thinks you're selfish too!" That really hit me hard; Lisa was our foreign exchange student we had my junior year because my father didn't want to have a male foreign exchange student because he was scared by his coworkers that he was "bringing a date for Becca" and that changed his mind immediately (my father felt and still feels a need to protect me, so me being the only girl can have its downfalls too). This led to Matt dating Lisa secretly for a few months and he was still with her during this drive home after what should’ve been a wonderful night getting the last of the Harry Potter books. I was upset because we were such good friends and I thought Lisa thought well of me. And yet, I said nothing to him, which just made him more angry. Agreeing with him makes him angry also (Danny and Matt inherited this anger trait from my father, which would always get them in trouble with others or even each other). Later, I find out that Lisa never said anything of the sort when I asked her on Skype--using a computer and webcam to talk to someone--and Matt denied ever saying it. As flustered as I was, I thought it was just him being angry and he still loved me and we pretended it never happened. I am more social than my brother and liked to help out my friends, which he finds is a fault. Don’t get me wrong, I try to help out my family, but I feel differently towards family and show better interest in helping out my friends if I can. It could be the lack of unconditional love that my friends have for me, them choosing me to be with and accepting me, that I need; all Matt finds in me are faults, which makes me think he doesn’t love me and he definitely doesn’t say or show it, especially as the years progress. You could say Matt is broken because he has had severe ear problems with two ear surgeries and received Ulcertificus Colitis, which means that he had to suffer through an ulcer in the lining of the large intestine during his freshmen year of college (WebMd).
There is Danny, the youngest of the siblings, and is the most social of us. He’s very gifted in sports; it could be baseball, basketball, football and he could play those and more pretty well. That's why I think Danny is the most outgoing, being somewhat close to the "Jock" kind of personality, but being smart also. His hair being straight and wacky from the innumerable amount of cowlicks, he's very tall and skinny, but has a very athletic toned body. Danny goes from sport to sport a lot, so you'll find him sleeping most of the time he's home and not really doing chores that my Dad would end up doing for him. I’m getting along better with Danny as I’ve drifted away from Matt, most likely because of his more fun nature opposed to Matt’s negative and pessimistic views of everything. The thing that makes him “broken” is that he’s smart yet, doesn’t apply himself. Unfortunately, that’s how the eldest of the Wagner children, P.J., ended up being.
P.J. was a very smart guy; getting perfect Math ACT scores, the test consisting of 60 questions “with 14 covering pre-algebra, 10 elementary algebra, 9 intermediate algebra, 14 plane geometry, 9 coordinate geometry, and 4 elementary trigonometry,“ according to Wikipedia (and he also got a perfect Math score on the SAT). My parents were so proud of their brown-haired, hazel eyed, first born son, except when he started not doing homework, that would then lead to him averaging C's and B's instead of acing all of his classes. P.J. managed to join the Navy ROTC at Penn State University. And one winter night, he was
watching "Passion of the Christ" in a local movie theater with friends when he fainted in the men's bathroom from all the blood from the movie. After receiving a concussion from hitting his head on a sink in the Du Bois movie theater, he's never been the same; P.J. eventually dropped out of Penn State to
a local, community branch of Kent State University, and started working at Kraft Maid. After not finishing it at the Trumbull campus of Kent State, he continued working at Kraft Maid until he was laid off and moved in with my Grandmother in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania working as a waiter for a Japanese (or sushi) restaurant. I know that P.J. is above such things, but I feel useless because we all know his smarts should not be wasted, and yet they are wasting away . . .
When coming home for the long winter break, I really enjoyed being with my family after living four hours away from them in Southeast of Ohio. We were talking to my father about his knee replacement surgery (he busted his knee years ago doing sports and finally brought up the courage to replace his knee after doctors telling him he needed it) when my father said he had to talk to us about something important. Of course, I got really worried, inheriting the “worry wart” trait from my dad’s side, and he explained to Matt and I how they spent my college loan money. They told us that my mother and himself got into gambling to hopefully help pay for college and ended up using so much money that they took from the Athletic Boosters fund--my dad was treasurer--and eventually paid them back. I was totally stunned; they never mentioned any problems on the phone and acted like life was good. It brought me back to a time where I was away at band camp for two weeks and when I got back, my dad told me that my kitten accidentally ate driveway sealant and the other kitten was all by his lonesome. Except this was my loan money, that I needed to get through college. I was just in disbelief as my father asked me to “forgive” them. I did because they are my family, as I forgave Matt for not helping me study for the Psychology course that my parents thought would be beneficial to me to have my smart, hardworking brother help me.
“Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material” (F. Scott Fitzgerald).
As for me, I know that I’m definitely broken; who isn’t? Within our family, the meaning of “broken” means more to me. I have my faults, as I well know that the rest of my family does, but I’m willing to accept them for who they are. It’s just frustrating when you feel that you are in a room of people that you thought you knew, and now feel detached from. My father says that we’re “broken” in a joking manner, but I think he believes in it. Our family doesn’t feel like a family anymore; throughout the whole break my father explained that we need to show affection towards one another and spend as much time as a family as we possibly could, but we hardly knew any of this. Our family wasn’t affectionate to start out with--we would say “I love you” on the phone, at least if we remembered and helped each other out on occasion--but we really didn’t hug each other, unless the occasion could’ve called for it, but not likely. That could’ve been my parents fault, but we should’ve known better because other families knew better; parents would always go to their child’s events. I remember getting first chair clarinetist in honor bands my senior year, and my parents couldn’t make it to any of the concerts. I had two solos when I attended Akron’s Ohio Band Director’s Conference Honors Band, and Matt and Danny arrived late and missed me tremendous solo in a Bach piece that I can’t remember the name of. I’ve just never really felt that kind of love that Danny would get; my father would go to every one of his basketball games and feel awful when he didn’t and I had to pretend that everything was okay when he couldn’t come to Solo and Ensemble contest for six years, every year having a solo. I’m still bitter about the whole ordeal, even though I know that my parents don’t know much of anything about music, I just thought they could be like other people and their families and go and support their child. I never got the “Great job Becca” that other people would get from parents as I wondered around waiting for my ride to come or just leaving the scene in general. I tried to forgive my parents, but after spending my loan money and now money that my grandmother was going to give me money that could help pay towards doing marching band next year or even towards college, will be used on the family (I’m not sure towards what, but I’m hoping it is used wisely. . . Fingers crossed).
This family could never be the same happy family I once thought it to be. The simple, loving family was gone; it was replaced with bitterness of the cold hard reality that my parents have tried to keep hiding from us for so long. For my family, finance was the final blow that has shattered our delusive perfect picture into an empty frame.
Works Cited
The Quote Garden. 5 January 2008. Guillemets, Terri. 7 March 2009 http://www.quotegarden.com/family.html.
WebMd: Ulcerative Colitis Guide. 3 November 2008. Healthwise Incorporated. 9 March 2009 http://www.webmd.com/ibd-crohns-disease/colitis-guide/ulcerative-colitis-topic-overview.
Wikipedia: ACT (examination). 2 March 2009. Wikimedia Foundation Inc. 9 March 2009 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ACT_(examination).
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Revised 1200 memoir
Our family is what my father would like to say as "broken." Each one of us is different in our own ways. We're not broken in a way that a family can be; my parents are still married and all of my brothers and I are pretty healthy. I know we are somewhat the different, but why are we "broken?"
My parents were a cute kind of couple; they met at Travis Air Force Base as they were on the same intramural softball team on base. After a few months of dating, they decided to elope because it was much easier than trying to bring my mother's family from Spokane, Washington and my dad's family from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, together.
They then had three sons, P.J., Matt, Danny (in order from oldest to youngest) and one daughter, me. People say we are a rich family because we live in beautiful brown house, right next to an alfalfa field with an acre of space surrounding it. Living near cornfields and a few other houses in the town of Greene, where they only have a volunteer fire department, town hall, and a church. The "Big Brown House" that is named as our own, has a dark brown coat on the vinyl siding with beautiful trees that my father put in himself, now very tall maple trees that litter the front yard surrounded by marigolds of oranges, yellows, reds, along with other colorful flowers.
The inside is filled with beautiful coffee colored walls and the wooden banister leading up the stairs to an open kitchen and living room to the left of the stairs. The yellow colored kitchen and dining room area livens up the house, but seems almost ridiculous now to see. The house throughout the years has been fixed up with different colors, every room, except for my own that still has the light pink wallpaper with a cute little border of light blue houses repetitively along the walls. But with the added touches of several collages of pictures over the years of friends and trips along with several posters of guitar chords, art I made for classes, and a big kitty poster, it adds a nice touch--at least I think so. My father tried taking down the wallpaper border, but gave up because he knew it would be too much trouble for me to go take it all down off the walls. So my room is the only one with its wallpaper still intact.
Everything seemed alright; our family was never really rich, but we never had too many financial problems or anything. Except this one time when I was about eleven, my mother had to take a trip to Puerto Rico to fix a plane over there (she is an electrician for cargo planes like C-70s) and they get some free time. Well, she decided to go to a casino with other co-workers and I remember it was a hot summer afternoon, and my father was on the phone with my mom. He started to get this angry tone that he gets and face got very tense as his brown eyes grow darker with sweat shining his forehead and balding head, he starts yelling and goes to his room down the hall and slams the door. You could hear his voice and he comes back out with our jar of coins and had us starting to roll the coins and kept ranting about how my mother has made us go bankrupt. I remember sitting there trying to roll up pennies, and wondering what’ll happen if we don’t recover from this.
Not much was said after this incident and we kept the handsome house. The family evolved in personality while the Wagner kids started to grow up. Matt became the dedicated student, being on the Dean’s List a few times last year here at Ohio University. Being the shortest of the family, his five foot and eight inches stature is athletic, with wavy, short brown hair with matching eyes that could pick out anything wrong in anyone or anything. When we were younger, we were close in age being the middle children and got along quite well. Today it’s the opposite though; I’m more easy going and take life as it comes while he is the one who worries and prepares for everything. I am more social than my brother and like to help out my friends, which he finds is a fault. Don’t get me wrong, I try to help out my family, but I feel differently towards family and show better interest in helping out my friends if I can. You could say Matt is broken because he has had severe ear problems with two ear surgeries and received Ulcertificus Colitis, which means that he had to suffer through an ulcer in the lining of the large intestine during his freshmen year of college (WebMd).
There is Danny, the youngest of the siblings, and is the most social of us. He’s very gifted in sports; it could be baseball, basketball, football and he could play those and more pretty well. That's why I think Danny is the most outgoing, being somewhat close to the "Jock" kind of personality, but being smart also. His hair being straight and wacky from the innumerable amount of cowlicks, he's very tall and skinny, but has a very athletic toned body. Danny goes from sport to sport a lot, so you'll find him sleeping most of the time he's home and not really doing chores that my Dad would end up doing for him. The thing that makes him “broken” is that he’s smart yet, doesn’t apply himself. Unfortunately, that’s how the eldest of the Wagner children, P.J., ended up being.
P.J. was a very smart guy; getting perfect Math ACT scores, the test consisting of 60 questions “with 14 covering pre-algebra, 10 elementary algebra, 9 intermediate algebra, 14 plane geometry, 9 coordinate geometry, and 4 elementary trigonometry,“ according to Wikipedia (and he also got a perfect Math score on the SAT). My parents were so proud of their brown-haired, hazel eyed, first born son, except when he started not doing homework, that would then lead to him averaging C's and B's instead of acing all of his classes. P.J. managed to join the Navy ROTC at Penn State University. And one winter night, he was
watching "Passion of the Christ" in a local movie theater with friends when he fainted in the men's bathroom from all the blood from the movie. After receiving a concussion from hitting his head on a sink in the Du Bois movie theater, he's never been the same; P.J. eventually dropped out of Penn State to
a local, community branch of Kent State University, and started working at Kraft Maid. After not finishing it at the Trumbull campus of Kent State, he continued working at Kraft Maid until he was laid off and moved in with my Grandmother in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania working as a waiter for a Japanese (or sushi) restaurant.
When coming home for the long winter break, I really enjoyed being with my family after living four hours away from them in Southeast of Ohio. We were talking to my father about his knee replacement surgery (he busted his knee years ago doing sports and finally brought up the courage to replace his knee after doctors telling him he needed it) when my father said he had to talk to us about something important. Of course, I got really worried, inheriting the “worry wart” trait from my dad’s side, and he explained to Matt and I how they spent my college loan money. They told us that my mother and himself got into gambling to hopefully help pay for college and ended up using so much money that they took from the Athletic Boosters fund--my dad was treasurer--and eventually paid them back. I was totally stunned; they never mentioned any problems on the phone and acted like life was good. It brought me back to a time where I was away at band camp for two weeks and when I got back, my dad told me that my kitten accidentally ate driveway sealant and the other kitten was all by his lonesome. Except this was my loan money, that I needed to get through college. I was just in disbelief as my father asked me to “forgive” them. I did because they are my family, as I forgave Matt for not helping me study for the Psychology course that my parents thought would be beneficial to me to have my smart, hardworking brother help me.
“Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material” (F. Scott Fitzgerald).
This family could never be the same happy family I once thought it to be. The simple, loving family was gone; it was replaced with bitterness of the cold hard reality that my parents have tried to keep hiding for so long. Just seeing my parents so weak was a rude awakening for me, that not everyone can handle certain things in life. For my family, finance has shattered our perfect picture into an empty frame.
My parents were a cute kind of couple; they met at Travis Air Force Base as they were on the same intramural softball team on base. After a few months of dating, they decided to elope because it was much easier than trying to bring my mother's family from Spokane, Washington and my dad's family from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, together.
They then had three sons, P.J., Matt, Danny (in order from oldest to youngest) and one daughter, me. People say we are a rich family because we live in beautiful brown house, right next to an alfalfa field with an acre of space surrounding it. Living near cornfields and a few other houses in the town of Greene, where they only have a volunteer fire department, town hall, and a church. The "Big Brown House" that is named as our own, has a dark brown coat on the vinyl siding with beautiful trees that my father put in himself, now very tall maple trees that litter the front yard surrounded by marigolds of oranges, yellows, reds, along with other colorful flowers.
The inside is filled with beautiful coffee colored walls and the wooden banister leading up the stairs to an open kitchen and living room to the left of the stairs. The yellow colored kitchen and dining room area livens up the house, but seems almost ridiculous now to see. The house throughout the years has been fixed up with different colors, every room, except for my own that still has the light pink wallpaper with a cute little border of light blue houses repetitively along the walls. But with the added touches of several collages of pictures over the years of friends and trips along with several posters of guitar chords, art I made for classes, and a big kitty poster, it adds a nice touch--at least I think so. My father tried taking down the wallpaper border, but gave up because he knew it would be too much trouble for me to go take it all down off the walls. So my room is the only one with its wallpaper still intact.
Everything seemed alright; our family was never really rich, but we never had too many financial problems or anything. Except this one time when I was about eleven, my mother had to take a trip to Puerto Rico to fix a plane over there (she is an electrician for cargo planes like C-70s) and they get some free time. Well, she decided to go to a casino with other co-workers and I remember it was a hot summer afternoon, and my father was on the phone with my mom. He started to get this angry tone that he gets and face got very tense as his brown eyes grow darker with sweat shining his forehead and balding head, he starts yelling and goes to his room down the hall and slams the door. You could hear his voice and he comes back out with our jar of coins and had us starting to roll the coins and kept ranting about how my mother has made us go bankrupt. I remember sitting there trying to roll up pennies, and wondering what’ll happen if we don’t recover from this.
Not much was said after this incident and we kept the handsome house. The family evolved in personality while the Wagner kids started to grow up. Matt became the dedicated student, being on the Dean’s List a few times last year here at Ohio University. Being the shortest of the family, his five foot and eight inches stature is athletic, with wavy, short brown hair with matching eyes that could pick out anything wrong in anyone or anything. When we were younger, we were close in age being the middle children and got along quite well. Today it’s the opposite though; I’m more easy going and take life as it comes while he is the one who worries and prepares for everything. I am more social than my brother and like to help out my friends, which he finds is a fault. Don’t get me wrong, I try to help out my family, but I feel differently towards family and show better interest in helping out my friends if I can. You could say Matt is broken because he has had severe ear problems with two ear surgeries and received Ulcertificus Colitis, which means that he had to suffer through an ulcer in the lining of the large intestine during his freshmen year of college (WebMd).
There is Danny, the youngest of the siblings, and is the most social of us. He’s very gifted in sports; it could be baseball, basketball, football and he could play those and more pretty well. That's why I think Danny is the most outgoing, being somewhat close to the "Jock" kind of personality, but being smart also. His hair being straight and wacky from the innumerable amount of cowlicks, he's very tall and skinny, but has a very athletic toned body. Danny goes from sport to sport a lot, so you'll find him sleeping most of the time he's home and not really doing chores that my Dad would end up doing for him. The thing that makes him “broken” is that he’s smart yet, doesn’t apply himself. Unfortunately, that’s how the eldest of the Wagner children, P.J., ended up being.
P.J. was a very smart guy; getting perfect Math ACT scores, the test consisting of 60 questions “with 14 covering pre-algebra, 10 elementary algebra, 9 intermediate algebra, 14 plane geometry, 9 coordinate geometry, and 4 elementary trigonometry,“ according to Wikipedia (and he also got a perfect Math score on the SAT). My parents were so proud of their brown-haired, hazel eyed, first born son, except when he started not doing homework, that would then lead to him averaging C's and B's instead of acing all of his classes. P.J. managed to join the Navy ROTC at Penn State University. And one winter night, he was
watching "Passion of the Christ" in a local movie theater with friends when he fainted in the men's bathroom from all the blood from the movie. After receiving a concussion from hitting his head on a sink in the Du Bois movie theater, he's never been the same; P.J. eventually dropped out of Penn State to
a local, community branch of Kent State University, and started working at Kraft Maid. After not finishing it at the Trumbull campus of Kent State, he continued working at Kraft Maid until he was laid off and moved in with my Grandmother in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania working as a waiter for a Japanese (or sushi) restaurant.
When coming home for the long winter break, I really enjoyed being with my family after living four hours away from them in Southeast of Ohio. We were talking to my father about his knee replacement surgery (he busted his knee years ago doing sports and finally brought up the courage to replace his knee after doctors telling him he needed it) when my father said he had to talk to us about something important. Of course, I got really worried, inheriting the “worry wart” trait from my dad’s side, and he explained to Matt and I how they spent my college loan money. They told us that my mother and himself got into gambling to hopefully help pay for college and ended up using so much money that they took from the Athletic Boosters fund--my dad was treasurer--and eventually paid them back. I was totally stunned; they never mentioned any problems on the phone and acted like life was good. It brought me back to a time where I was away at band camp for two weeks and when I got back, my dad told me that my kitten accidentally ate driveway sealant and the other kitten was all by his lonesome. Except this was my loan money, that I needed to get through college. I was just in disbelief as my father asked me to “forgive” them. I did because they are my family, as I forgave Matt for not helping me study for the Psychology course that my parents thought would be beneficial to me to have my smart, hardworking brother help me.
“Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material” (F. Scott Fitzgerald).
This family could never be the same happy family I once thought it to be. The simple, loving family was gone; it was replaced with bitterness of the cold hard reality that my parents have tried to keep hiding for so long. Just seeing my parents so weak was a rude awakening for me, that not everyone can handle certain things in life. For my family, finance has shattered our perfect picture into an empty frame.
Monday, February 23, 2009
1200-ish Memoir post thinger
Our family is what my father would like to say as "broken." Each one of us is different in our own ways. My older brother, P.J., who's the black sheep of the family and amazingly good at math (I think a perfect score on the ACT would prove that). He took all the moving the hardest, because we moved while he was in high school from a huge high school with a state qualifying football team in Poland, Ohio to small, dinky Maplewood, who didn’t even have a football team. So his very large, six foot two inches form, used his large thigh to play baseball instead. My parents were so proud of him, except when he started not doing homework, which is why he would average C’s and B’s instead of acing all of his classes. He managed to join the Navy ROTC at Penn State. Unfortunately, one night my father tells the family that while at Penn State University, P.J. got a concussion from fainting in the bathroom after seeing blood in the movie theater from “Passion of the Christ,” and he’s never been the same since.
Within a year and a half are my other brothers and me. First was Matthew, the quiet, hardworking, straight-A student that got on the Dean’s List a few times at Ohio University. Then me, the artistic one that was kind of outgoing and viewed as an "ok" student. And Danny, the partier and the most outgoing and athletic of the Wagner Family kids.
I remember my dad telling me at dinner one night, "Becky. What'd I tell you are the most important subjects in school?" This question as been droned upon me for years and knows the answer like a pop song, "Math and science?" My parents were always interested in those subjects and thought that you need to be able to survive in the real world; I somewhat believe that, but not to the extent that my parents care about those subjects. My father would just stare at me after he found out that I got a "C" in Trigonometry one quarter in my junior year of high school. You could say that I became the slacker one, but what amazes me more is how Matt would always be praised for his great grades and I find out later that he would copy his homework from someone else in school because he didn't have time to do it beforehand. I felt above him in that aspect, which made me feel a lot better. I was the band nerd who took the course so seriously, doing honor bands and solo and ensemble contest, because I knew that music is what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So, you could say I just didn't try too hard in the subjects my parents loved, because I found no interest in them. I remember that very same year, we had the huge "Trig Project" as we all called it, and there were things we hadn't learned yet on it and it was a large portion of our grade that quarter. I had my partner, who happened to be one of my good friends by the name of Andrea, but she was just as bad at math as I was. I'm thinking "I have two brothers who are really good at math, so why don't I ask them? They know this and Matt took it just the year before."
I go to Matt's room, which is across the hall from me and ask for his help. He took the course a year ago and thought he was the best bet. He looks up at me as I ask him and he said "Sure. I'll see what I can do." Matt walks down the narrow hallway into the kitchen to the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. After scanning the problems, he scribbles with the horribly cramped handwriting he has and kept erasing, jotting numbers and equations down, and erasing again. After only ten minutes, he gets angry and says, "I'm done. I don't remember how to do this." I was shocked; after all the times he said he could help me and my parents telling me that I should get help from him when needed, that it was just useless advice. Going down the stairs into P.J.'s room, was my last resort. His room was very dusty, messy, and cramped as he sat at a computer chair, playing World of Warcraft. I ask him if he could give me a minute and he's the loving brother, I think, and says "Ok. Let me see what you got here." This perfect-math-ACT-getter works so much harder as he looks over all the problems and writes on a notebook paper. P.J. sighed and gave me the project back in about a half an hour and says, "I'm sorry, but I could only get one problem." Honestly, I was glad that he could figure out one of the seventy-odd problems in the homework and thanked him. What I didn't look forward to though, later, is that I didn't get much done after that and asked all my friends for help and failed the "Trig Project"; this then left me with a "D" on my report card for trigonometry so my Dad was peeved. I can still imagine his face and him saying, "I'm very disappointed with you," which is the worst phrase that parents could ever say to you.
But honestly, I really tried to understand the "most important subjects" in school, but it wasn't useful. My brothers think I was babied, being the only girl, and not having to do everything that they had to do. My father didn't force me to take the ACT my sophomore year like he did with Matt and P.J., which upset Matt for some reason. My father understood by then that I was going to study music and didn't really need to worry about my ACT until I needed to apply to colleges. But my brothers thought differently, of course. Secretly though, I wish I could be as smart as P.J. and Matt are; I only got a 22 on my test and felt incredibly dumb compared to them (The second time I took the ACT, a boy threw up onto his test around winter time with the colds going around, and the proctors couldn't clean it up until break, and it happened only a couple chairs away from me. Paper towels do not help you forget it's still there).
About me being outgoing, I'm only outgoing to those I've known for a while, like my family and close friends. Moving around a lot when I was younger was a bit hard for me, and somehow made friends even though I looked like a nerd. My friend from home, Rachel, told me about when I first moved to Maplewood in the middle of fifth grade and how my rose tinted glasses made me look like a hippie, and they found that so humorous, that they started talking to me. I laughed when I heard this story the summer before coming to Ohio U, because we became really good friends somehow. I can say more to my friends than I can do my family, but I don't think of myself as the outgoing, party type that Dan is of the family. Danny will tell you differently because my father would tell him he couldn't go somewhere with his friends and he would reply, "You let Becky go to the movies with her friends, why can't I go?" Danny always wanted to be the one to be more independent than my brothers and I, which would always get him in trouble. My father, Danny, and Matt have the same kind of temper: bad. I am much more calm and can bottle things up like my mother and brother, P.J., which makes them more upset more than anything.
Matt was driving me home around midnight after we got the last book of the seventh year of Harry Potter and we were having a good time. I don't remember what really sparked it, but he got upset with me and started yelling at me. "I can't believe you. . . you are so stupid! All you think about is yourself," and a lot of other horrible remarks that I was trying to tune out at the time until he said, "Lisa thinks you're selfish too!" That really hit me hard; Lisa was our foreign exchange student we had my junior year because my father didn't want to have a male foreign exchange student because he was scared by his coworkers that he was "bringing a date for Becca" and that changed his mind immediately. Also, Matt started dating Lisa secretly for a few months and he was still with her at the time. She really loved the designated "Becky pieces" of pumpkin pie, they were so massive pieces. Anywho, I was upset because we were such good friends and I thought she thought well of me. And yet, I said nothing to him, which just made him more angry. Agreeing with him makes him angry also. Later, I find out that Lisa never said anything of the sort when I asked her on Skype--using a computer and webcam to talk to someone--and Matt denied ever saying it. But I knew. . .
Being calm is something I'm really good at portraying, even with friends. Especially in high school, there is a lot of drama because you see the same people everyday, so life has to be spiced up a little bit. It's odd, because my friends would try to seek advice from me and a lot of the things that I write, as of now anyway, has been philosophical and "deep" as my boyfriend, Reilly, had said. To my family, however, I'm not really viewed as philosophical or anything close to that. I usually find myself hardly saying anything at all when we have group discussions about politics or a related subject at the dinner table because I don't find it as important to me. I think the only "advice" I had ever given to my family was to Danny about a girl problem he was having; it was to see if this girl he was talking to really liked him or not. It didn't really matter because he didn't really accept my advice, but he appreciated that I tried, I suppose.
My family views me as the optimist, which I like to think I am sometimes. I can be a realist, don't get me wrong, but I like to look at the glass half full, as that overused saying goes.
Within a year and a half are my other brothers and me. First was Matthew, the quiet, hardworking, straight-A student that got on the Dean’s List a few times at Ohio University. Then me, the artistic one that was kind of outgoing and viewed as an "ok" student. And Danny, the partier and the most outgoing and athletic of the Wagner Family kids.
I remember my dad telling me at dinner one night, "Becky. What'd I tell you are the most important subjects in school?" This question as been droned upon me for years and knows the answer like a pop song, "Math and science?" My parents were always interested in those subjects and thought that you need to be able to survive in the real world; I somewhat believe that, but not to the extent that my parents care about those subjects. My father would just stare at me after he found out that I got a "C" in Trigonometry one quarter in my junior year of high school. You could say that I became the slacker one, but what amazes me more is how Matt would always be praised for his great grades and I find out later that he would copy his homework from someone else in school because he didn't have time to do it beforehand. I felt above him in that aspect, which made me feel a lot better. I was the band nerd who took the course so seriously, doing honor bands and solo and ensemble contest, because I knew that music is what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So, you could say I just didn't try too hard in the subjects my parents loved, because I found no interest in them. I remember that very same year, we had the huge "Trig Project" as we all called it, and there were things we hadn't learned yet on it and it was a large portion of our grade that quarter. I had my partner, who happened to be one of my good friends by the name of Andrea, but she was just as bad at math as I was. I'm thinking "I have two brothers who are really good at math, so why don't I ask them? They know this and Matt took it just the year before."
I go to Matt's room, which is across the hall from me and ask for his help. He took the course a year ago and thought he was the best bet. He looks up at me as I ask him and he said "Sure. I'll see what I can do." Matt walks down the narrow hallway into the kitchen to the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. After scanning the problems, he scribbles with the horribly cramped handwriting he has and kept erasing, jotting numbers and equations down, and erasing again. After only ten minutes, he gets angry and says, "I'm done. I don't remember how to do this." I was shocked; after all the times he said he could help me and my parents telling me that I should get help from him when needed, that it was just useless advice. Going down the stairs into P.J.'s room, was my last resort. His room was very dusty, messy, and cramped as he sat at a computer chair, playing World of Warcraft. I ask him if he could give me a minute and he's the loving brother, I think, and says "Ok. Let me see what you got here." This perfect-math-ACT-getter works so much harder as he looks over all the problems and writes on a notebook paper. P.J. sighed and gave me the project back in about a half an hour and says, "I'm sorry, but I could only get one problem." Honestly, I was glad that he could figure out one of the seventy-odd problems in the homework and thanked him. What I didn't look forward to though, later, is that I didn't get much done after that and asked all my friends for help and failed the "Trig Project"; this then left me with a "D" on my report card for trigonometry so my Dad was peeved. I can still imagine his face and him saying, "I'm very disappointed with you," which is the worst phrase that parents could ever say to you.
But honestly, I really tried to understand the "most important subjects" in school, but it wasn't useful. My brothers think I was babied, being the only girl, and not having to do everything that they had to do. My father didn't force me to take the ACT my sophomore year like he did with Matt and P.J., which upset Matt for some reason. My father understood by then that I was going to study music and didn't really need to worry about my ACT until I needed to apply to colleges. But my brothers thought differently, of course. Secretly though, I wish I could be as smart as P.J. and Matt are; I only got a 22 on my test and felt incredibly dumb compared to them (The second time I took the ACT, a boy threw up onto his test around winter time with the colds going around, and the proctors couldn't clean it up until break, and it happened only a couple chairs away from me. Paper towels do not help you forget it's still there).
About me being outgoing, I'm only outgoing to those I've known for a while, like my family and close friends. Moving around a lot when I was younger was a bit hard for me, and somehow made friends even though I looked like a nerd. My friend from home, Rachel, told me about when I first moved to Maplewood in the middle of fifth grade and how my rose tinted glasses made me look like a hippie, and they found that so humorous, that they started talking to me. I laughed when I heard this story the summer before coming to Ohio U, because we became really good friends somehow. I can say more to my friends than I can do my family, but I don't think of myself as the outgoing, party type that Dan is of the family. Danny will tell you differently because my father would tell him he couldn't go somewhere with his friends and he would reply, "You let Becky go to the movies with her friends, why can't I go?" Danny always wanted to be the one to be more independent than my brothers and I, which would always get him in trouble. My father, Danny, and Matt have the same kind of temper: bad. I am much more calm and can bottle things up like my mother and brother, P.J., which makes them more upset more than anything.
Matt was driving me home around midnight after we got the last book of the seventh year of Harry Potter and we were having a good time. I don't remember what really sparked it, but he got upset with me and started yelling at me. "I can't believe you. . . you are so stupid! All you think about is yourself," and a lot of other horrible remarks that I was trying to tune out at the time until he said, "Lisa thinks you're selfish too!" That really hit me hard; Lisa was our foreign exchange student we had my junior year because my father didn't want to have a male foreign exchange student because he was scared by his coworkers that he was "bringing a date for Becca" and that changed his mind immediately. Also, Matt started dating Lisa secretly for a few months and he was still with her at the time. She really loved the designated "Becky pieces" of pumpkin pie, they were so massive pieces. Anywho, I was upset because we were such good friends and I thought she thought well of me. And yet, I said nothing to him, which just made him more angry. Agreeing with him makes him angry also. Later, I find out that Lisa never said anything of the sort when I asked her on Skype--using a computer and webcam to talk to someone--and Matt denied ever saying it. But I knew. . .
Being calm is something I'm really good at portraying, even with friends. Especially in high school, there is a lot of drama because you see the same people everyday, so life has to be spiced up a little bit. It's odd, because my friends would try to seek advice from me and a lot of the things that I write, as of now anyway, has been philosophical and "deep" as my boyfriend, Reilly, had said. To my family, however, I'm not really viewed as philosophical or anything close to that. I usually find myself hardly saying anything at all when we have group discussions about politics or a related subject at the dinner table because I don't find it as important to me. I think the only "advice" I had ever given to my family was to Danny about a girl problem he was having; it was to see if this girl he was talking to really liked him or not. It didn't really matter because he didn't really accept my advice, but he appreciated that I tried, I suppose.
My family views me as the optimist, which I like to think I am sometimes. I can be a realist, don't get me wrong, but I like to look at the glass half full, as that overused saying goes.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
RIF Second Reading
In the second reading of Running in the Family by Michael Ondaatje, there was a chapter that was entertaining to me called "Tongue." This involved the thalagoya, which is an odd, lizard creature that was said to make a child "become brilliantly articulate, will always speak beautifully, and in his speech be able to 'catch' and collect wonderful, humorous information"(73), if you eat the thalagoya's tongue. His Uncle Noel ate only half the tongue and he became "a brilliant lawyer and a great story teller, from eating just part of the tongue" (74). There are other uses, but I found it quite cultural and humorous that people would eat a lizard tongue to be successful.
In "Sweet Like a Crow" chapter, the italicized quote at the beginning was interesting to me:
"The Sinhalese are beyond a doubt one of the least musical people in the world. It would be quite impossible to have less sense of pitch, line, or rhythm" (76).
And the chapter, I'm assuming, is supposed to be a type of poem. Proving the quote by Paul Bowles about being unmusical by not usuing any sort of rhyme scheme and just made up of a series similes. But even with the similes, it all makes sense by the end of the poem with the line "Like the sound I heard when having an afternoon sleep/and someone walked through my room in ankle bracelets" (77). From discussion in class, we've characterized Ondaatje's writing as "lyrical," proving our writer to be contradictory to generations before him.
In "Sweet Like a Crow" chapter, the italicized quote at the beginning was interesting to me:
"The Sinhalese are beyond a doubt one of the least musical people in the world. It would be quite impossible to have less sense of pitch, line, or rhythm" (76).
And the chapter, I'm assuming, is supposed to be a type of poem. Proving the quote by Paul Bowles about being unmusical by not usuing any sort of rhyme scheme and just made up of a series similes. But even with the similes, it all makes sense by the end of the poem with the line "Like the sound I heard when having an afternoon sleep/and someone walked through my room in ankle bracelets" (77). From discussion in class, we've characterized Ondaatje's writing as "lyrical," proving our writer to be contradictory to generations before him.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Running in the Family
Michael Ondaatje's writing so far reminds me of Hosseini's The Kite Runner, by explaining certain cultural words that regular people don't know such as "the kitul tree still leaned against the kitchen--tall, with tiny yellow berries which the polecat used to love" (59). I love how the family always have stories to tell about generations before them and always have something to say when they are all together. Ondaatje uses a lot of allieration that I can't help but notice such as "British and Burgher blood" (41) and "Monsoon Meet in May" (50).
There's a lot of historical references, specifically one chapter dedicated to what was going on in the 1920s in Columbo called "Honeymoon." There also color references that bring out the color red such as "red cement" (17) in the beginning of the memoir; there was the walls that were "rose-red" (24) and Dutch daughter's "red dress" (27) that haunted their house in Jaffna. Red is a bold color and could contribute into describing the family and their storytelling. He also writes giving short sentences to start off a new idea and then he delves into it like, "During the week in Dorset my father behaved impeccably" (32). The story of how much of a pain his father really was all his life goes into greater detail when Michael further explains the engagements he had and so on. But to get his point across, he starts small, than goes into longer sentences just right after the first sentence: "The in-laws planned the wedding, Phyllis was invited to spend the summer with the Roseleaps, and the Ondaatjes (including my father) went back to Ceylon to wait out the four months before the marriage" (32-33). Overrall, it is a different read with more cultural perspectives so far.
There's a lot of historical references, specifically one chapter dedicated to what was going on in the 1920s in Columbo called "Honeymoon." There also color references that bring out the color red such as "red cement" (17) in the beginning of the memoir; there was the walls that were "rose-red" (24) and Dutch daughter's "red dress" (27) that haunted their house in Jaffna. Red is a bold color and could contribute into describing the family and their storytelling. He also writes giving short sentences to start off a new idea and then he delves into it like, "During the week in Dorset my father behaved impeccably" (32). The story of how much of a pain his father really was all his life goes into greater detail when Michael further explains the engagements he had and so on. But to get his point across, he starts small, than goes into longer sentences just right after the first sentence: "The in-laws planned the wedding, Phyllis was invited to spend the summer with the Roseleaps, and the Ondaatjes (including my father) went back to Ceylon to wait out the four months before the marriage" (32-33). Overrall, it is a different read with more cultural perspectives so far.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Father-Son Bondage
In memoirs, we learn about the author’s relationships with people in their family. In Fathers, Sons, & Brothers: The Men in My Family, Bret Lott suggests that the relationship with his father was the most influential in his own life. When becoming a father himself, the unusual bond he had with his father, Bill, helped him through fatherhood.
Bret had always had a view of this amazing father figure; Bill had a good job with Royal Crown Cola as vice president and supplied for the family. One instance that we see a bond begin between Bret and his father is when his father got a job back in California after moving from there to Arizona, and back again. Bill, known as the “father of few words” (7), comes into his room early in the morning and hands him an index card with the words:
“ ‘ God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference’" (8).
The thought that Bret would “appreciate that” (8) made a big impact on Bret to bring up in this essay; he was “stunned” and saw what he thought was “supposed” to be a smile from his father, which reveals how little emotion Bill actually shows to his son (9). This appreciation for his father continues on through the essay “In the Garage,” about organizing his own garage and the small amount of tools he has; “Like father, like son” (10). And he finished it off with a “discard pile outside, a pile so high I know I’ve done my father proud” (10).
What evolved the bond between Lott and his son, Bret, was the Royal Crown; Bill was vice president and had his sons start working for him there. The hero-figure Bill Lott represented was very pronounced when Bret was younger because children always view their parents as perfect superheroes. When Saturday chores were done, the Lott brothers went with their father to different stores to check out the RC pop that was displayed or still needed in the store. “This was our father, an adult, a man; and this was his job: to come into a store and talk of sports” (37). This image represents the further impact Bill had on his sons. Bret started out working on washing the trucks out with his brothers, when working was still fun. He moved up to sweeping out lots the next summer, Bill got to work one-on-one with Bret; he kept coming out day after day, teaching Bret how to sweep a lot by pushing with a push broom (41). It’s not that Bret didn’t know how to push broom, Bret just “dogged”(31) it because of the heat.
A significant turn of events occurs when Bill takes Bret on a stop they have to make because of the broken down shipment truck. Bret noticed a difference with his father but “didn’t recognize this joy in him, only wondered at why he seemed to be smiling when all we had before us was a long trek into the desert” (44). Because of his family growing, Bill had to give up his life of driving trucks to get a higher position to help support his family; this shows how caring Bill is of his family along, including the progression of his sons into the real world. Bret became closer to his father when working for RC Cola because Bill would always wake him up in the morning and they would get breakfast and M&M’s in the afternoon. Ironically, his father showed him later when he returned to RC Cola before going off to college, a donut shop that symbolized the connection between Bret and his father. “There was no waiting room here, no inside place from which to order . . . They had bear claws” (168), with bear claws being what he always got on the way to work with Bill.
For comic relief, the situation where Bret asked his mother where babies came from at the dinner table shows his father’s awkwardness, so to say. “My dad’s instantaneous reaction, enough to make me flinch. . . ‘Hey,’ he said again, ‘don’t talk like that!” (91) was quite astounding and was upset that he shouldn’t ask that during dinner. Years later, Bill had “The Talk” as people would say, but technically not so. It was so humorous to see Bill being so uncomfortable as “his eyes hadn’t yet mine. . . I had him, had him in a way I’d never known before: my dad, powerless, stunned” (94). Bret didn’t really gain any information from his father, but this moment of weakness that shined through made him ever closer with him. The image of his father’s laugh that “was a good laugh, a solid laugh, a kind of laugh I hadn’t heard or seen before: It was a laugh that didn’t take me into account, didn’t pretend to cajole me or to praise me. He wasn’t even looking at me. This was just laughter” (94). This particular part of “The Talk” memory was something new Bret learned about his very shy-like father.
By the essay, “Royal Crown 2,” Bret self focused on his father and how he truly impacted his life, even though he just writes and doesn’t do the kind of manual labor his father taught him as hard work. Because of the guidance Bill gave to Bret; waking him up early and eating “Cornnuts and M&M’s together” was what Bret said knows “only now, were his attempts to guide me and my brothers the only way he knew how” (189). And because of this guidance and the effort he put into his children, Bret understands the great bond between his father and himself.
Bret had always had a view of this amazing father figure; Bill had a good job with Royal Crown Cola as vice president and supplied for the family. One instance that we see a bond begin between Bret and his father is when his father got a job back in California after moving from there to Arizona, and back again. Bill, known as the “father of few words” (7), comes into his room early in the morning and hands him an index card with the words:
“ ‘ God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference’" (8).
The thought that Bret would “appreciate that” (8) made a big impact on Bret to bring up in this essay; he was “stunned” and saw what he thought was “supposed” to be a smile from his father, which reveals how little emotion Bill actually shows to his son (9). This appreciation for his father continues on through the essay “In the Garage,” about organizing his own garage and the small amount of tools he has; “Like father, like son” (10). And he finished it off with a “discard pile outside, a pile so high I know I’ve done my father proud” (10).
What evolved the bond between Lott and his son, Bret, was the Royal Crown; Bill was vice president and had his sons start working for him there. The hero-figure Bill Lott represented was very pronounced when Bret was younger because children always view their parents as perfect superheroes. When Saturday chores were done, the Lott brothers went with their father to different stores to check out the RC pop that was displayed or still needed in the store. “This was our father, an adult, a man; and this was his job: to come into a store and talk of sports” (37). This image represents the further impact Bill had on his sons. Bret started out working on washing the trucks out with his brothers, when working was still fun. He moved up to sweeping out lots the next summer, Bill got to work one-on-one with Bret; he kept coming out day after day, teaching Bret how to sweep a lot by pushing with a push broom (41). It’s not that Bret didn’t know how to push broom, Bret just “dogged”(31) it because of the heat.
A significant turn of events occurs when Bill takes Bret on a stop they have to make because of the broken down shipment truck. Bret noticed a difference with his father but “didn’t recognize this joy in him, only wondered at why he seemed to be smiling when all we had before us was a long trek into the desert” (44). Because of his family growing, Bill had to give up his life of driving trucks to get a higher position to help support his family; this shows how caring Bill is of his family along, including the progression of his sons into the real world. Bret became closer to his father when working for RC Cola because Bill would always wake him up in the morning and they would get breakfast and M&M’s in the afternoon. Ironically, his father showed him later when he returned to RC Cola before going off to college, a donut shop that symbolized the connection between Bret and his father. “There was no waiting room here, no inside place from which to order . . . They had bear claws” (168), with bear claws being what he always got on the way to work with Bill.
For comic relief, the situation where Bret asked his mother where babies came from at the dinner table shows his father’s awkwardness, so to say. “My dad’s instantaneous reaction, enough to make me flinch. . . ‘Hey,’ he said again, ‘don’t talk like that!” (91) was quite astounding and was upset that he shouldn’t ask that during dinner. Years later, Bill had “The Talk” as people would say, but technically not so. It was so humorous to see Bill being so uncomfortable as “his eyes hadn’t yet mine. . . I had him, had him in a way I’d never known before: my dad, powerless, stunned” (94). Bret didn’t really gain any information from his father, but this moment of weakness that shined through made him ever closer with him. The image of his father’s laugh that “was a good laugh, a solid laugh, a kind of laugh I hadn’t heard or seen before: It was a laugh that didn’t take me into account, didn’t pretend to cajole me or to praise me. He wasn’t even looking at me. This was just laughter” (94). This particular part of “The Talk” memory was something new Bret learned about his very shy-like father.
By the essay, “Royal Crown 2,” Bret self focused on his father and how he truly impacted his life, even though he just writes and doesn’t do the kind of manual labor his father taught him as hard work. Because of the guidance Bill gave to Bret; waking him up early and eating “Cornnuts and M&M’s together” was what Bret said knows “only now, were his attempts to guide me and my brothers the only way he knew how” (189). And because of this guidance and the effort he put into his children, Bret understands the great bond between his father and himself.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Prewriting
Our family is what my father would like to say as "broken." Each one of us is different in our own ways. We have my older brother P.J., who's the black sheep of the family and amazingly good at math (I think a perfect score on the ACT would prove that). My other older brother, Matt, is the good straight-A student and is on the Dean's List here at Ohio University. And my little brother, Danny, is the most outgoing of us all and really smart. Me, I am viewed as the outgoing, an "ok" student along with being the "artsy" one of the family.
I remember my Dad telling me at dinner one night, "Becky. What'd I tell you are the most important subjects in school?" This question as been droned upon me for years and knows the answer like a pop song, "Math and science?" He would just stare at me after he found out that I got a "C" in Trigonometry one quarter in my junior year of high school. You could say that I became the slacker one, but what amazes me more is how Matt would always be praised for his great grades and I find out later that he would copy his homework from someone else in school because he didn't have time to do it beforehand. I felt above him in that aspect, which made me feel a lot better. I was the band nerd who took the course so seriously, doing honor bands and solo and ensemble contest, because I knew that music is what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So, you could say I just didn't try too hard in the subjects my parents loved, because I found no interest in them. I remember that very same year, we had the huge "Trig Project" as we all called it, and there were things we hadn't learned yet on it and it was a large portion of our grade that quarter. I had my partner, who happened to be one of my good friends by the name of Andrea, but she was just as bad at math as I was. I'm thinking "I have two brothers who are really good at math, so why don't I ask them? They know this and Matt took it just the year before."
I go to Matt's room, which is across the hall from me and ask for his help. He took the course a year ago and thought he was the best bet. He looks up at me as I ask him and he said "Sure. I'll see what I can do." Matt walks down the narrow hallway into the kitchen to the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. After scanning the problems, he scribbles with the horribly cramped handwriting he has and kept erasing, jotting numbers and equations down, and erasing again. After only ten minutes, he gets angry and says, "I'm done. I don't remember how to do this." I was shocked; after all the times he said he could help me and my parents telling me that I should get help from him when needed, that it was just useless advice. Going down the stairs into P.J.'s room, was my last resort. His room was very dusty, messy, and cramped as he sat at a computer chair, playing World of Warcraft. I ask him if he could give me a minute and he's the loving brother, I think, and says "Ok. Let me see what you got here." This perfect-math-ACT-getter works so much harder as he looks over all the problems and writes on a notebook paper. P.J. sighed and gave me the project back in about a half an hour and says, "I'm sorry, but I could only get one problem." Honestly, I was glad that he could figure out one of the seventy-odd problems in the homework and thanked him. What I didn't look forward to though, later, is that I didn't get much done after that and asked all my friends for help and failed the "Trig Project"; this then left me with a "D" on my report card for trigonometry so my Dad was peeved. I can still imagine his face and him saying, "I'm very disappointed with you," which is the worst phrase that parents could ever say to you.
But honestly, I really tried to understand the "most important subjects" in school, but it wasn't useful. My brothers think I was babied, being the only girl, and not having to do everything that they had to do. My father didn't force me to take the ACT my sophomore year like he did with Matt and P.J., which upset Matt for some reason. My father understood by then that I was going to study music and didn't really need to worry about my ACT until I needed to apply to colleges. But my brothers thought differently, of course. Secretly though, I wish I could be as smart as P.J. and Matt are; I only got a 22 on my test and felt incredibly dumb compared to them (The second time I took the ACT, a boy threw up onto his test around winter time with the colds going around, and the proctors couldn't clean it up until break, and it happened only a couple chairs away from me. Paper towels do not help you forget it's still there).
About me being outgoing, I'm only outgoing to those I've known for a while, like my family and close friends. Moving around a lot when I was younger was a bit hard for me, and somehow made friends even though I looked like a nerd. My friend from home, Rachel, told me about when I first moved to Maplewood in the middle of fifth grade and how my rose tinted glasses made me look like a hippie, and they found that so humorous, that they started talking to me. I laughed when I heard this story the summer before coming to Ohio U, because we became really good friends somewhow. I can say more to my friends than I can do my family, but I don't think of myself as the outgoing, party type that Dan is of the family. Danny will tell you differently because my father would tell him he couldn't go somewhere with his friends and he would reply, "You let Becky go to the movies with her friends, why can't I go?" Danny always wanted to be the one to be more independent than my brothers and I, which would always get him in trouble. My father, Danny, and Matt have the same kind of temper: bad. I am much more calm and can bottle things up, which makes them more upset more than anything.
Matt was driving me home around midnight after we got the last book of the seventh year of Harry Potter and we were having a good time. I don't remember what really sparked it, but he got upset with me and started yelling at me. "I can't believe you. . . you are so stupid! All you think about is yourself," and a lot of other horrible remarks that I was trying to tune out at the time until he said, "Lisa thinks you're selfish too!" That really hit me hard; Lisa was our foreign exchange student we had my junior year because my father didn't want to have a male foreign exchange student because he was scared by his coworkers that he was "bringing a date for Becca" and that changed his mind immediately. Also, Matt started dating Lisa secretly for a few months and he was still with her at the time. She really loved the designated "Becky pieces" of pumpkin pie, they were so massive pieces. Anywho, I was upset because we were such good friends and I thought she thought well of me. And yet, I said nothing to him, which just made him more angry. Agreeing with him makes him angry also. Later, I find out that Lisa never said anything of the sort when I asked her on skype--using a computer and webcam to talk to someone--and Matt denied ever saying it. But I knew. . .
Being calm is something I'm really good at portraying, even with friends. Especially in high school, there is a lot of drama because you see the same people everyday, so life has to be spiced up a little bit. It's odd, because my friends would try to seek advice from me and a lot of the things that I write, as of now anyway, has been philosophical and "deep" as my friend Reilly had said. To my family, however, I'm not really viewed as philosophical or anything close to that. I usually find myself hardly saying anything at all when we have group discussions about politics or a related subject at the dinner table because I don't find it as important to me. I think the only "advice" I had ever given to my family was to Danny about a girl problem he was having; it was to see if this girl he was talking to really liked him or not. It didn't really matter because he didn't really accept my advice, but he appreciated that I tried, I suppose.
My family views me as the optomist, which I like to think I am sometimes. I can be a realist, don't get me wrong, but I like to look at the glass half full, as that overused saying goes.
I remember my Dad telling me at dinner one night, "Becky. What'd I tell you are the most important subjects in school?" This question as been droned upon me for years and knows the answer like a pop song, "Math and science?" He would just stare at me after he found out that I got a "C" in Trigonometry one quarter in my junior year of high school. You could say that I became the slacker one, but what amazes me more is how Matt would always be praised for his great grades and I find out later that he would copy his homework from someone else in school because he didn't have time to do it beforehand. I felt above him in that aspect, which made me feel a lot better. I was the band nerd who took the course so seriously, doing honor bands and solo and ensemble contest, because I knew that music is what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So, you could say I just didn't try too hard in the subjects my parents loved, because I found no interest in them. I remember that very same year, we had the huge "Trig Project" as we all called it, and there were things we hadn't learned yet on it and it was a large portion of our grade that quarter. I had my partner, who happened to be one of my good friends by the name of Andrea, but she was just as bad at math as I was. I'm thinking "I have two brothers who are really good at math, so why don't I ask them? They know this and Matt took it just the year before."
I go to Matt's room, which is across the hall from me and ask for his help. He took the course a year ago and thought he was the best bet. He looks up at me as I ask him and he said "Sure. I'll see what I can do." Matt walks down the narrow hallway into the kitchen to the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. After scanning the problems, he scribbles with the horribly cramped handwriting he has and kept erasing, jotting numbers and equations down, and erasing again. After only ten minutes, he gets angry and says, "I'm done. I don't remember how to do this." I was shocked; after all the times he said he could help me and my parents telling me that I should get help from him when needed, that it was just useless advice. Going down the stairs into P.J.'s room, was my last resort. His room was very dusty, messy, and cramped as he sat at a computer chair, playing World of Warcraft. I ask him if he could give me a minute and he's the loving brother, I think, and says "Ok. Let me see what you got here." This perfect-math-ACT-getter works so much harder as he looks over all the problems and writes on a notebook paper. P.J. sighed and gave me the project back in about a half an hour and says, "I'm sorry, but I could only get one problem." Honestly, I was glad that he could figure out one of the seventy-odd problems in the homework and thanked him. What I didn't look forward to though, later, is that I didn't get much done after that and asked all my friends for help and failed the "Trig Project"; this then left me with a "D" on my report card for trigonometry so my Dad was peeved. I can still imagine his face and him saying, "I'm very disappointed with you," which is the worst phrase that parents could ever say to you.
But honestly, I really tried to understand the "most important subjects" in school, but it wasn't useful. My brothers think I was babied, being the only girl, and not having to do everything that they had to do. My father didn't force me to take the ACT my sophomore year like he did with Matt and P.J., which upset Matt for some reason. My father understood by then that I was going to study music and didn't really need to worry about my ACT until I needed to apply to colleges. But my brothers thought differently, of course. Secretly though, I wish I could be as smart as P.J. and Matt are; I only got a 22 on my test and felt incredibly dumb compared to them (The second time I took the ACT, a boy threw up onto his test around winter time with the colds going around, and the proctors couldn't clean it up until break, and it happened only a couple chairs away from me. Paper towels do not help you forget it's still there).
About me being outgoing, I'm only outgoing to those I've known for a while, like my family and close friends. Moving around a lot when I was younger was a bit hard for me, and somehow made friends even though I looked like a nerd. My friend from home, Rachel, told me about when I first moved to Maplewood in the middle of fifth grade and how my rose tinted glasses made me look like a hippie, and they found that so humorous, that they started talking to me. I laughed when I heard this story the summer before coming to Ohio U, because we became really good friends somewhow. I can say more to my friends than I can do my family, but I don't think of myself as the outgoing, party type that Dan is of the family. Danny will tell you differently because my father would tell him he couldn't go somewhere with his friends and he would reply, "You let Becky go to the movies with her friends, why can't I go?" Danny always wanted to be the one to be more independent than my brothers and I, which would always get him in trouble. My father, Danny, and Matt have the same kind of temper: bad. I am much more calm and can bottle things up, which makes them more upset more than anything.
Matt was driving me home around midnight after we got the last book of the seventh year of Harry Potter and we were having a good time. I don't remember what really sparked it, but he got upset with me and started yelling at me. "I can't believe you. . . you are so stupid! All you think about is yourself," and a lot of other horrible remarks that I was trying to tune out at the time until he said, "Lisa thinks you're selfish too!" That really hit me hard; Lisa was our foreign exchange student we had my junior year because my father didn't want to have a male foreign exchange student because he was scared by his coworkers that he was "bringing a date for Becca" and that changed his mind immediately. Also, Matt started dating Lisa secretly for a few months and he was still with her at the time. She really loved the designated "Becky pieces" of pumpkin pie, they were so massive pieces. Anywho, I was upset because we were such good friends and I thought she thought well of me. And yet, I said nothing to him, which just made him more angry. Agreeing with him makes him angry also. Later, I find out that Lisa never said anything of the sort when I asked her on skype--using a computer and webcam to talk to someone--and Matt denied ever saying it. But I knew. . .
Being calm is something I'm really good at portraying, even with friends. Especially in high school, there is a lot of drama because you see the same people everyday, so life has to be spiced up a little bit. It's odd, because my friends would try to seek advice from me and a lot of the things that I write, as of now anyway, has been philosophical and "deep" as my friend Reilly had said. To my family, however, I'm not really viewed as philosophical or anything close to that. I usually find myself hardly saying anything at all when we have group discussions about politics or a related subject at the dinner table because I don't find it as important to me. I think the only "advice" I had ever given to my family was to Danny about a girl problem he was having; it was to see if this girl he was talking to really liked him or not. It didn't really matter because he didn't really accept my advice, but he appreciated that I tried, I suppose.
My family views me as the optomist, which I like to think I am sometimes. I can be a realist, don't get me wrong, but I like to look at the glass half full, as that overused saying goes.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Revised Image of a Hero
Mary Karr’s view of her own sister in The Liar’s Club, has grown into a positive light than in the beginning of the memoir. Lecia, Mary’s sister, is just like any other sister; she knocks Mary down to get attention from her mother (265). However, through the traumatic events that occur, Lecia becomes prevalently an adult figure to take care of Mary and herself when neither parents could.
Lecia had thought logically when Mary and herself were left to chose who they wanted to live with. When “Lecia’s gaze went very level, as if she’d seen this choice coming across the far sky like a weather front” (193), Lecia knew that this was coming; she was realistic and knew that her parents could get divorced and coming straight down to it, she already planned for this to happen. Most children try to ignore when their parents seem to be going downhill, but Lecia prepared for it. She thought it only logical that they would stay with her mother because if they “left Mother by herself, she’d get in capital-T Trouble” (193). It made sense after their mother being Nervous and knew that their father would survive better without them. Lecia was the one that said “Let’s go back in there and break it to them” (193) and was the one who organized what to be done because Lecia had to be the strong one to help make the decision and to be able to tell them who they wanted to live with was, I could imagine, a very difficult thing to do; Mary was in no condition to do so because she wanted to “curl up in a ball” (192) when she found out the news. Lecia was the one to be an adult and lead her sister through that storm.
When in Colorado, Mother decides one night after drinking, of course, decides to pull out a gun she thought she needed to protect herself in the disgusting town of Antelope. This drinking spell made Mother threaten to shoot Hector, the step dad, after he himself had been drinking and was trying to pay Lecia to play “America the Beautiful,“ but refused. This made Hector call Lecia a “bitch;“ Mother’s nervous came to the point where she really wanted to kill Hector, but because Mary blocked him with her body, somehow stalled the murdering mind. Lecia’s valiant efforts were focused on saving Mary and herself by staring “up with an expression that struck me [Mary] as lawyerly, like Perry Mason’s at the jury box” (251). And once that didn’t work the following quote struck me as valiant:
“She was off on another tack. The look in her brown eyes under the shiny blond shelf of bangs was no longer set. It was weary. And the accent she used next was pure Texan… She was buddying up, appealing to Mother’s fury, which she’s apparently adjudged immovable” (252).
Lecia then offered herself to help cover Hector up, but instead of doing it with Mary, she did it for her. “When Lecia took her place beside me looking wholly empty of herself. She was telling me to run. But in her pass-the butter voice” (253). This “pass-the-butter voice” was Lecia’s way of concentration as she was trying to be calm through the whole situation with their Mother’s gun pointed towards them; her goal was to make her to go get help and wasn’t noticed when she ran towards the Janisches’ house.
Furthermore, Lecia stuck out as the strong, static character that Mary need for support. “Her sudden solidity and power, the sheer force of her will” (251), was pronounced and concludes Mary’s want of a relationship as to the lonesomeness her parents made her feel throughout the divorce. Through these traumatic events, Lecia became parent-like when she needed to be. Lecia became the adult Mary needed at such a young age that never would again be viewed as a child through her eyes.
Lecia had thought logically when Mary and herself were left to chose who they wanted to live with. When “Lecia’s gaze went very level, as if she’d seen this choice coming across the far sky like a weather front” (193), Lecia knew that this was coming; she was realistic and knew that her parents could get divorced and coming straight down to it, she already planned for this to happen. Most children try to ignore when their parents seem to be going downhill, but Lecia prepared for it. She thought it only logical that they would stay with her mother because if they “left Mother by herself, she’d get in capital-T Trouble” (193). It made sense after their mother being Nervous and knew that their father would survive better without them. Lecia was the one that said “Let’s go back in there and break it to them” (193) and was the one who organized what to be done because Lecia had to be the strong one to help make the decision and to be able to tell them who they wanted to live with was, I could imagine, a very difficult thing to do; Mary was in no condition to do so because she wanted to “curl up in a ball” (192) when she found out the news. Lecia was the one to be an adult and lead her sister through that storm.
When in Colorado, Mother decides one night after drinking, of course, decides to pull out a gun she thought she needed to protect herself in the disgusting town of Antelope. This drinking spell made Mother threaten to shoot Hector, the step dad, after he himself had been drinking and was trying to pay Lecia to play “America the Beautiful,“ but refused. This made Hector call Lecia a “bitch;“ Mother’s nervous came to the point where she really wanted to kill Hector, but because Mary blocked him with her body, somehow stalled the murdering mind. Lecia’s valiant efforts were focused on saving Mary and herself by staring “up with an expression that struck me [Mary] as lawyerly, like Perry Mason’s at the jury box” (251). And once that didn’t work the following quote struck me as valiant:
“She was off on another tack. The look in her brown eyes under the shiny blond shelf of bangs was no longer set. It was weary. And the accent she used next was pure Texan… She was buddying up, appealing to Mother’s fury, which she’s apparently adjudged immovable” (252).
Lecia then offered herself to help cover Hector up, but instead of doing it with Mary, she did it for her. “When Lecia took her place beside me looking wholly empty of herself. She was telling me to run. But in her pass-the butter voice” (253). This “pass-the-butter voice” was Lecia’s way of concentration as she was trying to be calm through the whole situation with their Mother’s gun pointed towards them; her goal was to make her to go get help and wasn’t noticed when she ran towards the Janisches’ house.
Furthermore, Lecia stuck out as the strong, static character that Mary need for support. “Her sudden solidity and power, the sheer force of her will” (251), was pronounced and concludes Mary’s want of a relationship as to the lonesomeness her parents made her feel throughout the divorce. Through these traumatic events, Lecia became parent-like when she needed to be. Lecia became the adult Mary needed at such a young age that never would again be viewed as a child through her eyes.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Fathers, Sons, & Brothers
Bret Lott's Fathers, Sons, & Brothers is much different from The Liar's Club that we previously read by Karr. Focusing more on the minds of men, Bret talks about how important a garage is as he states that "a house is not a home, at least in my mind, until the garage has been put together" (2). As I've been told by society, television, etc., the garage is where a man enjoys life with tools, cars, and whatever outdoors-y thing you could think of. Starting the memoir with the meaning of a garage shows how Mary's father in The Liar's Club and the rest of the club would take refuge in a garage; her father would drink to help calm him down when he would get into a fight with their mother. Onto Lott's memoir, I love Mrs. Lott's reaction to Bret's garage idea by shaking "her head, let out an exasperated sigh. 'Men,' she'd say" (2). This dream house that he describes for his family brings us into his memory of his very own father and family when he was younger; this I found quite creative.
After moving for his father's job from California to Arizona, we find that things were much different in Arizona with cacti and coyotes. It reminded me of when I moved from one home with a basement, then to one without one. Anyway, he states that "there is no there there in a carport, no sense of place other than one to park the car in" (4), that I found odd with his writing. Once you're used to things being a certain way, I know it's hard to transition into something new. With the lack of a basement, it was harder for our family to store seasonal decorations, etc. It's not too frivolous other than just the detailing of things that matter to him such as the picture of Brad and himself from 1980 (27). A behavior that surprised me was "we couldn't understand why they [Mr. and Mrs. Stahl] let both Wade and Cody say things like 'damn' and 'shit' and 'hell' right there in front of them" (18); that quote immediately made me think of The Liar's Club with Mary and Lecia cussing up a storm when they were at a young age. Lott thought that the "smallest sounds, the highest pitches" (22) were just something that he found a mystery at the time. When we are younger, the smallest things amuse us like gravity or bubbles and Bret jumps "ten years later I knew what that sound was: I'd read somewhere it is the noise blood makes rushing through one's head" (23) and that he shouldn't have focused on something that ridiculous compared to a shooting star; that thought amused him, even though he could've focused on other wonders of the world. Lott found that focusing on something that affected him and was a mystery at the time is what he missed about being a child.
After moving for his father's job from California to Arizona, we find that things were much different in Arizona with cacti and coyotes. It reminded me of when I moved from one home with a basement, then to one without one. Anyway, he states that "there is no there there in a carport, no sense of place other than one to park the car in" (4), that I found odd with his writing. Once you're used to things being a certain way, I know it's hard to transition into something new. With the lack of a basement, it was harder for our family to store seasonal decorations, etc. It's not too frivolous other than just the detailing of things that matter to him such as the picture of Brad and himself from 1980 (27). A behavior that surprised me was "we couldn't understand why they [Mr. and Mrs. Stahl] let both Wade and Cody say things like 'damn' and 'shit' and 'hell' right there in front of them" (18); that quote immediately made me think of The Liar's Club with Mary and Lecia cussing up a storm when they were at a young age. Lott thought that the "smallest sounds, the highest pitches" (22) were just something that he found a mystery at the time. When we are younger, the smallest things amuse us like gravity or bubbles and Bret jumps "ten years later I knew what that sound was: I'd read somewhere it is the noise blood makes rushing through one's head" (23) and that he shouldn't have focused on something that ridiculous compared to a shooting star; that thought amused him, even though he could've focused on other wonders of the world. Lott found that focusing on something that affected him and was a mystery at the time is what he missed about being a child.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Family Memories
Just a few family memories....
At the end of the memoir, Karr talks about fireflies and brought about this memory when I was seven years old in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our family moved to Pittsburgh from California and the first thing that was totally different was that we saw this little lights near dusk and didn't know what they were. My father explained to my three brothers and I about lightning bugs and we were totally amazed by them we had fun catching them out in the small backyard and I could remember how I was so scared to catch one because once clasped into both hands, you could feel the lightning bug flutter around, trying to get out; their wings would tickle inside my hands. We decided to keep a few in the jar with pieces of grass in it (I'm not sure why we put grass in there, perhaps we thought it would make them happy somewhow). That was one of the cool things about moving to Pittsburgh.
What also was a good memory was our first snow. We, obviously, never seen snow before so the winter in Pittsburgh was a delight. You could watch the snow fall, although it was just a few inches, and play in it. The snow was so cold as we were all bundled up into winter coats as we tried catching the cold snow in our mouths; after hitting my hand, I would watch the snowflake slowly melt away into very cold water. My dad taught us how to make snow angels and we made a little snowman with twigs for arms, a little hat that was my little brother's, Danny's, and with a little carrot for a nose and pepperoni for eyes. It was the funnest time, especially after the snowball fight around the house and our tradition of playing football in the snow.
I remember a family trip that we decided to take at the end of my junior year of high school to Niagara Falls. We drove up north through New York, with its beautiful flower smell with vineyards all around, along with Buffalo's awkward smell of some sort of gross food kind of smell (fastfood, more specifically) and once we finally got there, it seemed surreal. We go to the hotel, as in my parents, my brother, and Lisa --our foreign exchange student and my brother's girlfriend (I know! Weird right?)--and the hotel is located right next to the Canadian Falls and could see it just outside our window. It was so beautiful at night when they had a lighting display showing several different colors through the falls with fireworks going off around it. The different shades of blue, yellow, orange, pink, into purple and red, it was kind of like a northern lights effect through the water. And we all stood around the window while my mother took pictures from her new camera that she was just so excited about. I just remember the beautiful display and just through our hotel window was so unbelievable.
At the end of the memoir, Karr talks about fireflies and brought about this memory when I was seven years old in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our family moved to Pittsburgh from California and the first thing that was totally different was that we saw this little lights near dusk and didn't know what they were. My father explained to my three brothers and I about lightning bugs and we were totally amazed by them we had fun catching them out in the small backyard and I could remember how I was so scared to catch one because once clasped into both hands, you could feel the lightning bug flutter around, trying to get out; their wings would tickle inside my hands. We decided to keep a few in the jar with pieces of grass in it (I'm not sure why we put grass in there, perhaps we thought it would make them happy somewhow). That was one of the cool things about moving to Pittsburgh.
What also was a good memory was our first snow. We, obviously, never seen snow before so the winter in Pittsburgh was a delight. You could watch the snow fall, although it was just a few inches, and play in it. The snow was so cold as we were all bundled up into winter coats as we tried catching the cold snow in our mouths; after hitting my hand, I would watch the snowflake slowly melt away into very cold water. My dad taught us how to make snow angels and we made a little snowman with twigs for arms, a little hat that was my little brother's, Danny's, and with a little carrot for a nose and pepperoni for eyes. It was the funnest time, especially after the snowball fight around the house and our tradition of playing football in the snow.
I remember a family trip that we decided to take at the end of my junior year of high school to Niagara Falls. We drove up north through New York, with its beautiful flower smell with vineyards all around, along with Buffalo's awkward smell of some sort of gross food kind of smell (fastfood, more specifically) and once we finally got there, it seemed surreal. We go to the hotel, as in my parents, my brother, and Lisa --our foreign exchange student and my brother's girlfriend (I know! Weird right?)--and the hotel is located right next to the Canadian Falls and could see it just outside our window. It was so beautiful at night when they had a lighting display showing several different colors through the falls with fireworks going off around it. The different shades of blue, yellow, orange, pink, into purple and red, it was kind of like a northern lights effect through the water. And we all stood around the window while my mother took pictures from her new camera that she was just so excited about. I just remember the beautiful display and just through our hotel window was so unbelievable.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Two Images of a Hero
Mary Karr's view of her own sister has grown towards a positive light from the mixed feelings she first had about Lecia in the beginning of the memoir. Through the traumatic events that occur, Lecia becomes prevalently an adult figure to take care of Mary and herself when neither parents could.
Lecia was the one who has to show no emotion when their Mother started the bonfire of all of their belongings behind the garage. “Lecia’s hand clamps on booth my shoulders to stop my rising, (150)” as Mother lights a match to burn all the toys, books, and furniture. Mary’s sister “could be watching the weather on TV for all the feeling her face shows (150)” because she knew that Mother burning their things wasn’t the main problem to her; it was to make sure they will survive. Lecia is the one who takes them out of their reverie to settle on the quilt that Grandma made out of male suit samples. This calmed Mary down by concentrating on hop scotching “from square to square in finger tag--black gabardine to charcoal flannel to gray pinstripe (154).” Because of her seriousness in concern towards their survival, Lecia tries to figure out why Mary was grinning when they were trying to hide away from their knife-bearing Mother. Lecia makes sure she is aware of everything surrounding her such as Mary’s state along with knowing how to react when Mother walks in with the knife by telling Mary to be quiet with one single movement of a finger to her lips.
When in Colorado, Mother decides one night after drinking, of course, decides to pull out a gun she thought she needed to protect herself in the disgusting town of Antelope. This drinking spell made Mother threaten to shoot Hector, the step dad, after he himself had been drinking and was trying to pay Lecia to play “America the Beautiful,“ but refused. This made Hector call Lecia a “bitch;“ Mother’s nervous came to the point where she really wanted to kill Hector, but because Mary blocked him with her body, somehow stalled the murdering mind. Lecia’s valiant efforts were focused on saving Mary and herself by staring “up with an expression that struck me [Mary] as lawyerly, like Perry Mason’s at the jury box (251).” And once that didn’t work the following quote struck me as valiant:
“She was off on another tack. The look in her brown eyes under the shiny blond shelf of bangs was no longer set. It was weary. And the accent she used next was pure Texan… She was buddying up, appealing to Mother’s fury, which she’s apparently adjudged immovable (252).”
Lecia then offered herself to help cover Hector up, but instead of doing it with Mary, she did it for her. “When Lecia took her place beside me looking wholly empty of herself. She was telling me to run. But in her pass-the butter voice (253).” This “pass-the-butter voice” was Lecia’s way of concentration as she was trying to be calm through the whole situation with their Mother’s gun pointed towards them; her goal was to make her to go get help and wasn’t noticed when she ran towards the Janisches’ house.
Furthermore, Lecia stuck out as the strong, static character that Mary need for support. “Her sudden solidity and power, the sheer force of her will (257)” was pronounced and concludes Mary’s want of a relationship as to the lonesomeness her parents made her feel throughout the divorce. Lecia became the adult she needed at such a young age that never would again be viewed as a child through Mary’s eyes.
Lecia was the one who has to show no emotion when their Mother started the bonfire of all of their belongings behind the garage. “Lecia’s hand clamps on booth my shoulders to stop my rising, (150)” as Mother lights a match to burn all the toys, books, and furniture. Mary’s sister “could be watching the weather on TV for all the feeling her face shows (150)” because she knew that Mother burning their things wasn’t the main problem to her; it was to make sure they will survive. Lecia is the one who takes them out of their reverie to settle on the quilt that Grandma made out of male suit samples. This calmed Mary down by concentrating on hop scotching “from square to square in finger tag--black gabardine to charcoal flannel to gray pinstripe (154).” Because of her seriousness in concern towards their survival, Lecia tries to figure out why Mary was grinning when they were trying to hide away from their knife-bearing Mother. Lecia makes sure she is aware of everything surrounding her such as Mary’s state along with knowing how to react when Mother walks in with the knife by telling Mary to be quiet with one single movement of a finger to her lips.
When in Colorado, Mother decides one night after drinking, of course, decides to pull out a gun she thought she needed to protect herself in the disgusting town of Antelope. This drinking spell made Mother threaten to shoot Hector, the step dad, after he himself had been drinking and was trying to pay Lecia to play “America the Beautiful,“ but refused. This made Hector call Lecia a “bitch;“ Mother’s nervous came to the point where she really wanted to kill Hector, but because Mary blocked him with her body, somehow stalled the murdering mind. Lecia’s valiant efforts were focused on saving Mary and herself by staring “up with an expression that struck me [Mary] as lawyerly, like Perry Mason’s at the jury box (251).” And once that didn’t work the following quote struck me as valiant:
“She was off on another tack. The look in her brown eyes under the shiny blond shelf of bangs was no longer set. It was weary. And the accent she used next was pure Texan… She was buddying up, appealing to Mother’s fury, which she’s apparently adjudged immovable (252).”
Lecia then offered herself to help cover Hector up, but instead of doing it with Mary, she did it for her. “When Lecia took her place beside me looking wholly empty of herself. She was telling me to run. But in her pass-the butter voice (253).” This “pass-the-butter voice” was Lecia’s way of concentration as she was trying to be calm through the whole situation with their Mother’s gun pointed towards them; her goal was to make her to go get help and wasn’t noticed when she ran towards the Janisches’ house.
Furthermore, Lecia stuck out as the strong, static character that Mary need for support. “Her sudden solidity and power, the sheer force of her will (257)” was pronounced and concludes Mary’s want of a relationship as to the lonesomeness her parents made her feel throughout the divorce. Lecia became the adult she needed at such a young age that never would again be viewed as a child through Mary’s eyes.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Eight Images
"A spotted butterfly settling in the middle of a daisy (105)" was what Mary
thought to be Mrs. Hess' vision of prettiness, which wasn't what Mary felt with
her family.
"Her black hair pinched and shining in twin plastic barrettes, her petticoat
sticking her pink skirt sideways (106)" relates to the Carol Sharp image that
Mary would see as she came home from her Sunday Bible School.
"Sitting cross-legged, dribbling wet sand through her fingers to build up the
squiggly turrets of a castle (108)," refers to how her Mother used to be when
going to McFadden Beach.
"This gave it a deep, snaggle-toothed frown and kept it from looking very smart
(111)," is the way the hammerhead shark looked to Mary when her mother left to
go drink in the Inn.
"It floats on top of the water, clear in places, but full of sunset-type colors
in others (112)" is what the man-of-war's head looked like.
"Sat on the sand with her legs straight out in front of her like some drugstore
doll (115)" was Lecia's reaction to being attacked by a man-of-war she had such
a glazed reaction.
"White chiffon scarf over her mouth like a mask in that second...her red
lipstick through the chiffon and ...'the loneliest eyes (130).'" Mother talks
about Marlene Dietrich in New York City, but deeply relates to the lonely eyes
she shows, just like how her Mother felt I believe.
"Wild tangle of auburn curls (137)" was Mother's hair and is relevant to her
wildness that she had been becoming and could've brought out the Nervous.
Monday, January 12, 2009
More on Central Object
I could probably further explain the scene with my father lying on the floor next to my Uncle Marc. While my grandmother, with her dyed red hair now a white color sitting next to my mother and my two brothers on the long couch directly in front of the television. And how I sat next to my older brother with his scruffy beard and the small gold chain around his neck while my Uncle Brian was on the floor behind the couch I sat on, somehow still seeing the television with his back against the wall next to the corner.
Quiz
Mary used to, at one point, very much despise her grandmother; Grandma was the the blame for her family falling apart. Her grandmother would always have to comment on everything that the family does, including sitting on the bed in Mary's parents' room to eat dinner or would always tell the mother that she should spank her children. The grandmother suffered from melanoma and, eventually, had her leg amputated, but was no use. Grandma thinks that Lecia is the "good" child who complies with everything and that Mary was an intolerable troublemaker. Once Grandma got Mary alone, she showed Mary that she has a half sister and half brother of the names Belinda and Tex.
Mary and her family left Leechfield because the terrible Hurricane Carla that made the National Guardsman to get them out. Mother was driving up the Orange Bridge, with the horrible rain and wind that made it very hard for them to get up. Mother sped up the car; it got to the point where Mary was said to be screaming and crying along with Lecia getting scared to where they hit a guard rail on the bridge. The only damage was to the front fender being smashed in.
Mary and her family left Leechfield because the terrible Hurricane Carla that made the National Guardsman to get them out. Mother was driving up the Orange Bridge, with the horrible rain and wind that made it very hard for them to get up. Mother sped up the car; it got to the point where Mary was said to be screaming and crying along with Lecia getting scared to where they hit a guard rail on the bridge. The only damage was to the front fender being smashed in.
Liar's Club Weekend and family event
Thankfully, Mary let us become closer with the rest of her family within the next few chapters of The Liar's Club. What really stood out to me is the middle paragraph on page forty-nine, "And from that silence in your skull there will develop--almost chemically, like film paper doused in that magic solution--a snapshot of cold horror. " She says this trying to forget "an ugly illness," even though it's difficult to block that from memory. Whenever you would see something awful happen, people try to cope with pretending it never existed, even though you will still suffer from it. Mary never really experienced what suffering was until she saw Grandma after having mustard gas piped into her leg to decrease the melanoma; this, surprisingly, really impacted Mary. "Real suffering has a face and a smell. It lasts in its most intense form no matter what you drape over it,(49)" further explains that it isn't possible for someone to try to hide away their suffering or make something painful look pleasing. As we read on, Mary's mother is found to have hid her suffering with "blank" stares and with little emotion, which is the opposite of the message of this specific passage.
A family event that comes to mind is this past Christmas. My parents, my two brothers, and I drove to Pittsburgh to have a type of Christmas "lunner" with my two uncles, brother, and grandmother. We were relaxing in my uncles' living room and somehow we got to watching Sydney White, which is a modern based Snow White that took place on a college campus. We were watching it on their fancy big screen television with many little trinkets on the coffee table and side tables that my Uncle Marc bought off ebay (Which is funny, because he's obsessed with frogs; he has a pond in his backyard--which takes up almost all of his backyard--and has little statues of frogs). We were watching the movie, and there was a funny part of the movie where the "Seven dwarfs" in the movie were looking at a hanging sports bra and they were all baffled by it. We were all laughing and having a good time; it was like everything just went away as we batted all the problems we were having with my grandmother growing ill and all the financial stuff, out of the park as it felt like we hit a homerun into happiness.
A family event that comes to mind is this past Christmas. My parents, my two brothers, and I drove to Pittsburgh to have a type of Christmas "lunner" with my two uncles, brother, and grandmother. We were relaxing in my uncles' living room and somehow we got to watching Sydney White, which is a modern based Snow White that took place on a college campus. We were watching it on their fancy big screen television with many little trinkets on the coffee table and side tables that my Uncle Marc bought off ebay (Which is funny, because he's obsessed with frogs; he has a pond in his backyard--which takes up almost all of his backyard--and has little statues of frogs). We were watching the movie, and there was a funny part of the movie where the "Seven dwarfs" in the movie were looking at a hanging sports bra and they were all baffled by it. We were all laughing and having a good time; it was like everything just went away as we batted all the problems we were having with my grandmother growing ill and all the financial stuff, out of the park as it felt like we hit a homerun into happiness.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Memoir and Club
After reading both The Memoir and the Memoirist and The Liar's Club, I've noticed a few similarities between the two so far. Mary Karr is a professor of Literature at Syracuse University as Thomas Larson taught how to write memoirs for a small, interested class (as far as I know). It's very evident that they are highly educated by the vocabulary that is used such as Karr's words of "pseudo-demonic" and "segue", and Larson's "monolithic" and "elan." But Karr used much more intriguing vocabulary that is more relatable to how people may have talked in Texas like "mulligrubs" and "guarangoddamntee," especially; the words are amusing and get the reader into the story.
Focusing on The Liar's Club, this is the actual memoir of a time in Mary's life. She uses incredible detail to conveigh the experience as she remembers it. As Daddy tells his story of running away from home there's a point that she calls "the turning point. Daddy cocks his head at everybody to savor it. . . The domino tiles stop their endless clicking. The cigar smoke might even seem to quit winding around on itself for a minute. Nobody so much as takes a drink." Karr looks up to her father at that young age, saying that he was a talented storyteller and the other men of the so called Liar's Club thought so to when they would all turn to silence as he started a story.
Karr was always "spoiled" by her father as Larson was by his own father when he was young. It was interesting to me because I'm the only daughter amongst three brothers, so I definitely was spoiled myself. Thomas focused more on the psychological aspect of writing about real life, which was interesting. He talked about Julie who was "surprised by what she didn't know or half-remembered" which was related to Karr's one memory that she thought so crystal clear that she had to write in present tense; only that one memory.
Focusing on The Liar's Club, this is the actual memoir of a time in Mary's life. She uses incredible detail to conveigh the experience as she remembers it. As Daddy tells his story of running away from home there's a point that she calls "the turning point. Daddy cocks his head at everybody to savor it. . . The domino tiles stop their endless clicking. The cigar smoke might even seem to quit winding around on itself for a minute. Nobody so much as takes a drink." Karr looks up to her father at that young age, saying that he was a talented storyteller and the other men of the so called Liar's Club thought so to when they would all turn to silence as he started a story.
Karr was always "spoiled" by her father as Larson was by his own father when he was young. It was interesting to me because I'm the only daughter amongst three brothers, so I definitely was spoiled myself. Thomas focused more on the psychological aspect of writing about real life, which was interesting. He talked about Julie who was "surprised by what she didn't know or half-remembered" which was related to Karr's one memory that she thought so crystal clear that she had to write in present tense; only that one memory.
Monday, January 5, 2009
English History
In my years of being a student, I've always enjoyed English. Elementary school was very nontraditional; I lived in four different places before I was ten years old. I learned the overdrawn subject of grammar and actually was used to great advantage when I took AP Literature and AP Language in high school. Maplewood high school was located in the middle of nowhere of Mecca,Ohio; three townships to one school with the graduating class of 2008 being eighty-four students. So, it was hard for students who have been there all their lives to learn grammar later in their student careers than it was for me. I started to thoroughly enjoy English when I took AP Literature my junior year. We had to read several novels--not quite sure how many-- and different plays by Shakespeare and Arthur Miller and so on; so basically all the classics. After having to write essay after essay, paper after paper, about all the literature, it was very rewarding to get better and better grades on assignments. We also had to do speeches and presentations where I was Elton John, but that's irrelevant to this class. Anywho, I took the AP exam and I passed it! I was pretty excited about it, until I took AP Language my senior year. The course focused more on writing styles and reading nonfiction such as Billy Budd and more interesting books like 1984. It was extremely difficult for me to focus on writing because I can't reread what I have written, for some odd reason. It would always just be a pain to reread my writing. Oh, and one time, we wrote like one of the authors', and my mind is failing me on which one, but we wrote a whole essay talking like a teenage boy with awkward words and I somehow got through it and proved my thesis. Well, that's all that I can think of on my English history, this being my first English course this year.
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