In my family I am more of the independent one, the competitive one, and probably considered the lazy one too. I can be a leader, the one my sisters look to when times are troubling, but most often that part goes to my oldest sister, Sammi. She is the first one her three younger siblings, Betsy, myself, and Hayley usually turn to. Betsy is a year older then me. She typically will look to Sammi for just about all her advice, although if she isn’t answering her cell phone, like most times, Betsy will call me to find out what to do. When I have a problem, I will turn to Sammi first too. Even before my dad. She always needed to step up and be older then she actually is, ever since she was in 5th or 6th grade. Around the time my mom started working.
For the longest time when I was growing up my mom was a babysitter, pretty much running a day care in my house. When she started working though, the burden of keeping everyone on track when my dad wasn’t home turned to Sammi. She would be the one who had to make sure everyone got their chores done, and then proceed to do her own, while trying to not allow fights to escalate. Most often though it would turn into me and her fighting, literally fist fights. One time it got so out of hand that we broke our address book. That was not a good day. Since Sammi was the one in charge, she was right. I was not. Even in the rare times I actually was right my other two sisters wouldn’t back me up. I never ended up winning those fights, because in the end I would be in trouble somehow. But even with all that going on, Sammi still would have to find time to make dinner, do the laundry, and do her homework. She was the perfect role model for me and my other two sisters because with all that going on, she only ever had 1 B on a report card, in 4th grade math, and strait As the rest of her career throughout high school.
All that did come with perks though. With 4 kids, our basement could be littered with toys at times. So on the occasional weekend when it was time to finally clean the basement, it meant put the toys back all in the right containers and in place. Sammi would always come up with the brilliant plan of dumping all the toys out, enough to cover the entire basement, and reorganize everything. That is all she had to do though. Within about 15 minutes of her getting the basement an even bigger mess she would be upstairs watching some old movie on TV with my parents. When I would try that I would be told to get downstairs and clean up the huge mess. It just wasn’t fair.
Sammi had to do this until she was a sophomore in high school. At that time I was in 8th grade. It was the time span between about Valentine’s Day until Easter. My sisters were all out of the house, I forget where, and my mom was gone also. It was when my dad broke the news to me. I always had a different kind of relationship with him then my sisters. When I was younger bed time was at 9. About an hour after bed time though, my dad would check to see if I was still awake, and if so, I was allowed to watch the rest of the Rangers game that was on. It was something I always tried to stay awake for, waiting for him to say I could come out from bed and watch the hockey game with him. He would sit right up by the television with a big Dallas Cowboys pillow on the floor leaning next to the couch. At that time I loved watching hockey, but even more so, when they fought. When a fight would break out of TV, I would look at my dad and say, “You know what they said to each other? We gotta fight.” That would be followed by me, at 5 years old, trying to beat up my dad. He would win without having to move.
When he broke the news that my mom wanted a divorce though, it was tough. I didn’t know how to handle this, and my dad was sitting in front of me crying. I had now idea how to react to what was happening. The concept of divorce was not something I ever thought I had to worry about. I always heard kids talk about it in school, but I never thought in a million years I would have to deal with it, but yet here it was, right in front of me, happening before I knew it could. I was sitting on the couch in my living room and I started petting my puppies, less then a year old at the time. They are 2 labs, brothers, one yellow, the other black. A dog fight probably was going on too, because that is one of their favorite past times. My dad turned the TV off before saying anything, so I knew it was a big deal. I guess he didn’t know how else, or who else to say it to. It was just me and him in our house, my house, and he had this huge rain cloud pushing down on him, fogging up the room. He was sitting in his old dark blue broken recliner. I was to his right, where our couch was pushed up against the wall. His face got red, but it wasn’t because he was angry. He started crying right in front of me. I think at that moment I started to share this leadership role with Sammi.
There were a few family discussions we had after everyone found out, and until we all moved our separate ways. I don’t remember if I was the one that told my sisters what was going to happen with my parents, or if I was told not to mention anything. My mom was angry though that I found out. If it were up to her, she would have waited until we were actually moving. She would ask me questions though before everyone else knew what was happening. Sammi had a hockey tournament, in Chicago or Detroit, but on the ride there she called me to talk. At that time my sisters didn’t know what was going on. They were in the car with her though, all of them sleeping. She was asking how my sisters should find out, when she should tell them, and others of that sort. She even asked me a few times if she should go through with it. Isn’t that ridiculous? Asking your son if you should divorce his dad?
I’m sure she thought that it was innocent, maybe just wanting a different biased opinion. I say that, because I am almost certain she had talked to her family about this, probably a few of her sisters, and definitely my grandpa and grandma. They would all hear it coming from her perspective though, so of course when describing something you will make it sound like you are the one who is right, therefore making their opinions biased. Mine on the other hand was biased on the sole point that I didn’t want my parents to get a divorce. It would mean having to move from my house, maybe not see one of my parents, or sisters, or even my dogs. It would separate everything that I know. I don’t know if she realized the amount of pressure I felt with that seemingly simple question. Even to this day I sit back and can only laugh at how obscure that question is to me.
There was a time after everyone knew when an argument broke out between my parents. My dad had been sleeping in my room for a couple nights, maybe a week before this argument. To clear things up, my dad never wanted a divorce, not during it at least. But this argument was well after my sisters were in bed. I should have been, but instead I was lying on the living room floor pretending to be asleep. My mom asked my dad, “What high school boy wants to be living in the same room as his father?” I didn’t move to that, but I was thinking it doesn’t really matter to me. I did not really agree with her at all throughout it though, because she kept claiming the divorce was “for the kids,” and well simply I never thought that to be the case. Sammi and I would vent to each other at how stupid of a thing that was to say, then list all the reasons why it was for her. After the argument was over, my mom went into the kitchen and slumped into a corner. My dad ‘woke me up’ and told me to go help her out. I didn’t tell him that I would rather not, but I knew I had to no matter what.
My parents decided to let each one of the kids, Sammi, Betsy, myself, and Hayley, to decide where they wanted to live. Once when I was talking with my mom I remember her saying that she wanted to fight that. She said that she wanted us all to live with her. I don’t remember how exactly I responded to that, but I know it wasn’t favorably towards what she had said. I thought that myself, and my sisters had a right to decide who we wanted to live with, since I would be in high school shortly, and Betsy and Sammi were already in high school.
We were all in the living room, my mom on her end by the lamp and computer. The couch we had was really old and a light brown color. The cushioning where she sat for the past 10 years was wearing out, and there was a divot in it so that you could feel the wood under your butt. My dad was sitting in his chair, which is across the narrow room. I feel as if I am floating above this frozen scene as I describe it. I am facing the television as this discussion is going on, and my sisters are all on the other side of the room. Everyone seems just stuck in that point. This is essentially the last memory that I have of living in my house that I grew up in. Slowly the emotion can sink into the room. It seems obvious to say that there is an overwhelming sadness hanging over everyone. I am almost anxious as it comes time for me to say I wanted to go live with my dad. So did Sammi. Betsy went with my mom, and I feel like Hayley just went there to try to even it, if not to make my mom feel better. She does that a lot, goes out of her way to help others in our family.
After that it seems like an auction was going off. My dad had a list of appliances, and different furniture and things of that sort. He would call something off and someone would claim it for there house, trying to make it all even. He asked Sammi if she wanted the washer or dryer, because our dryer was a piece, so obviously we got out the better of that. My mom got the dryer by default, then claimed the kitchen table, the couch, ‘her chair’ (that she never actually sat in), and numerous other things. I don’t think my dad really cared about that kind of stuff. The less there was to move is what he thought probably.
The Friday after Easter we moved out. Sammi, my dad and I went to one house, and Betsy and Hayley went with my mom. Throughout the whole process though, I really relied on Sammi, and I would like to think that she felt the same way about me. There were many times throughout this divorce where Sammi and I would find someplace to talk and just discuss whatever was important for hours. Sometimes these important things were just distractions, such as hockey, or some TV show. But other times they were about the divorce, my mom, Betsy, and Hayley. They are still our sisters, but those two just carried on the same mentality they had before the divorce. Sammi and I on the other hand, had growing experiences I feel. We became more independent and in charge of our lives. We were able to understand the importance of having one another to turn to when situations became difficult for us. Betsy and Hayley though still were ‘out for themselves’ to say, not worrying about one another. If I hadn’t had Sammi to turn to though, and if she wasn’t able to be as strong as she was during this, then I would have turned out drastically different. Conley argues that the way children turn out in divorce is dependent on the time in their life when this event happened (95). I would tend to disagree with that, because if the siblings are close and can form relationships like I have with Sammi, then they should be able to get through the toughest of times with one another.
The day she left for college is another time I won’t forget soon. Her freshmen year in college was spent at a school in Maine. The name of the school is Bowdoin, a small division 3 school that is 12 hours from where we lived. Over the previous 2 years of living together we gained a closer relationship then I had with Betsy and Hayley. We would be able to share problems with each other, talk to each other when angry or upset with something, or even just to hang out. I realized that my relationship with Sammi was a lot better then my friends had with their siblings. They always seemed to be at odds with each other, fighting constantly, but we didn’t. I didn’t fight that much with any of my sisters actually. The divorce brought my sisters and I together like nothing else could. I know for a fact that my relationships with Sammi, Betsy and Hayley would all be extremely different if we still lived in the same house, our house that we grew up in. But the day Sammi moved out, which seemed like for good, I was losing my security blanket, the person who I could always go to when I needed something, anything really. It was hard watching her pull out of my driveway with my dad driving and grandma next to him. Sammi was in the back, next to a pile of her belongings, and the last thing I saw as they pulled away were tears strolling down her cheeks.
Conley, Dalton. The Pecking Order. New York, New York: Pantheon Books, 2004.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Family Memoir Rogh Draft
In my family I am more of the independent one, the competitive one, and probably considered the lazy one too. I can be a leader, or the one my sisters look to when times are troubling, but most often that part goes to my oldest sister, Sammi. She is the initial one her three younger siblings, Betsy, myself, and Hayley usually turn to. Betsy is a year older then me. She typically will look to Sammi for just about all her advice, although if she isn’t answering her cell phone, like most times, Betsy will call me to find out what to do. When I have a problem, I will turn to Sammi first too. Even before my dad. She always needed to step up and be older then she actually is, ever since she was in 5th or 6th grade. Around the time my mom started working.
For the longest time growing up my mom was a babysitter, pretty much running a day care in my house. When she started working though, the burden of keeping everyone on track when my dad wasn’t home turned to Sammi. She would be the one who had to make sure everyone got their chores done, and then proceed to do her own, while trying to not allow fights to escalate. Most often though it would turn into me and her fighting, literally fist fights. One time it got so out of hand that we broke our phonebook. That was not a good day. Since Sammi was the one in charge, she was right. I was not. Even in the rare times I actually was right my other two sisters wouldn’t back me up. I never ended up winning those fights, because in the end I would be in trouble somehow. But even with all that going on, Sammi still would have to find time to make dinner, do the laundry, and do her homework. She was the perfect role model for me and my other two sisters because with all that going on, she only ever had 1 B on a report card, in 4th grade math, and strait As the rest of her career throughout high school.
All that did come with perks though. With 4 kids, our basement could be littered with toys at times. So on the occasional weekend when it was time to finally clean the basement, it meant put the toys back all in the right containers and in place. Sammi would always come up with the brilliant plan of dumping all the toys out, enough to cover the entire basement, and reorganize everything. That is all she had to do though. Within about 15 minutes of her getting the basement an even bigger mess she would be upstairs watching some old movie on TV with my parents. When I would try that I would be told to get downstairs and clean up the huge mess. It just wasn’t fair.
Sammi had to do this until she was a sophomore in high school. At that time I was in 8th grade. It was the time span between about Valentine’s Day until Easter. My sisters were all out of the house, I forget where, and my mom was gone also. It was when my dad broke the news to me. I always had a different kind of relationship with him then my sisters. When I was younger bed time was at 9. About an hour after bed time though, my dad would check to see if I was still awake, and if so, I was allowed to watch the rest of the Rangers game that was on. It was something I always tried to stay awake for, waiting for him to say I could come out from bed and watch the hockey game with him. He would sit right up by the television with a big Dallas Cowboys pillow on the floor leaning next to the couch. At that time I loved watching hockey, but even more so, when they fought. When a fight would break out of TV, I would look at my dad and say, “You know what they said to each other? We gotta fight.” That would be followed by me, at 5 years old, trying to beat up my dad. He would win without having to move.
When he broke the news that my mom wanted a divorce though, it was tough. I didn’t know how to handle this, and my dad was sitting in front of me crying. I had now idea how to react to what was happening. The concept of divorce was not something I ever thought I had to worry about. I always heard kids talk about it in school, but I never thought in a million years I would have to deal with it, but yet here it was, right in front of me, happening before I knew it could. I was sitting on the couch in my living room and I started petting my puppies, less then a year old at the time. They are 2 labs, brothers, one yellow, the other black. A dog fight probably was going on too, because that is one of their favorite past times. My dad turned the TV off before saying anything, so I knew it was a big deal. I guess he didn’t know how else, or who else to say it to. It was just me and him in our house, my house, and he had this huge rain cloud pushing down on him, fogging up the room. He was sitting in his old dark blue broken recliner. I was to his right, where our couch was pushed up against the wall. His face got red, but it wasn’t because he was angry. He started crying right in front of me. I think at that moment is when I started to share this leadership role with Sammi.
There were a few family discussions we had after everyone found out, and until we all moved our separate ways. I don’t remember if I was the one that told my sisters what was going to happen with my parents, or if I was told not to mention anything. My mom was angry though that I found out. If it were up to her, she would have waited until we were actually moving. She would ask me questions though before everyone else knew what was happening. Sammi had a hockey tournament, in Chicago or Detroit, but on the ride there she called me to talk. At that time my sisters didn’t know what was going on. They were in the car with her though, all of them sleeping. She was asking how my other sisters should found out, when she should tell them, and others of that sort. She even asked me a few times if she should go through with it. Isn’t that ridiculous? Asking your son if you should divorce his dad?
There was a time after everyone knew when an argument broke out between my parents. My dad had been sleeping in my room for a couple nights, maybe a week before this argument. To clear things up, my dad never wanted a divorce, not during it at least. But this argument was well after my sisters were in bed. I should have been, but instead I was lying on the living room floor pretending to be asleep. My mom asked my dad, “What high school boy wants to be living in the same room as his father?” I didn’t move to that, but I was thinking it doesn’t really matter to me. I did not really agree with her at all throughout it though, because she kept claiming the divorce was “for the kids,” and well simply I never thought that to be the case. Sammi and I would vent to each other at how stupid of a thing that was to say, then list all the reasons why it was for her. After the argument was over, my mom went into the kitchen and slumped into a corner. My dad ‘woke me up’ and told me to go help her out. I didn’t tell him that I would rather not, but I knew I had to no matter what.
My parents decided to let each one of the kids, Sammi, Betsy, myself, and Hayley, to decide where they wanted to live. Once when I was alone with my mom I remember her saying that she wanted to fight that. She said that she wanted us all to live with her. I don’t remember how exactly I responded to that, but I know it wasn’t favorably towards what she had said. I actually don’t really remember when or way she told me this. It was definitely multiple times. She would bring it up when she called after we moved. A few times after that too.
But back to deciding. We were all in the living room, my mom one her end by the lamp and computer. The couch we had was really old and a light brown color. The cushioning where she sat for the past 10 years was wearing out, and there was a divot in it so that you could feel the wood under your butt. My dad was sitting in his chair, which is across the narrow room. I feel as if I am floating above this frozen scene as I describe it. I am facing the television as this discussion is going on, and my sisters are all on the other side of the room. Everyone seems just stuck in that point. This is essentially the last memory that I have of living in my house that I grew up in. Slowly the emotion can sink into the room. It seems obvious to say that there is an overwhelming sadness hanging over everyone. I am almost anxious as it comes time for me to say I wanted to go live with my dad. So did Sammi. Betsy went with my mom, and I feel like Hayley just went there to try to even it, if not to make my mom feel better. She does that a lot, goes out of her way to help others in our family.
After that it seems like an auction was going off. My dad had a list of appliances, and different furniture and things of that sort. He would call something off and someone would claim it for there house, trying to make it all even. He asked Sammi if she wanted the washer or dryer, because our dryer was a piece, so obviously we got out the better of that. My mom got the dryer by default, then claimed the kitchen table, the couch, ‘her chair’ (that she never actually sat in), and numerous other things. I don’t think my dad really cared about that kind of stuff. The less there was to move is what he thought probably.
The Friday after Easter we moved out. Sammi, my dad and I went to one house, and Betsy and Hayley went with my mom. The whole experience changed every relationship in my family. For me, I had surprisingly better relationships with everyone, except for my mom that is. Sammi and I grew really close together. I think that is how we got through the situation without problems. After 8th grade I transferred school districts too, which apparently is supposed to give people a lot of stress. I guess with all that had happened, it was easy to take on a new challenge because I knew it would be easier to get through.
It was made easy in a way, because Sammi was going to my new school for half a day too for a program she got into. I followed her into the same program when I was a junior. The day she left for college though is another time I won’t forget soon. Her freshmen year in college was spent at a school in Maine. The name of the school is Bowdoin, a small division 3 school that is 12 hours from where we lived. Over the previous 2 years of living together we gained a closer relationship then I had with Betsy and Hayley. We would be able to share problems with each other, talk to each other when angry or upset with something, or even just to hang out. I realized that me and Sammi had a lot better relationship then a lot of my friends had with their siblings. They always seemed to be at odds with each other, fighting constantly, but we didn’t. I didn’t fight that much with any of my sisters actually. The divorce brought my sisters and me together like nothing else could. I know for a fact that my relationships with Sammi, Betsy and Hayley would all be drastically different if we still lived in the same house, our house that we grew up in. But the day Sammi moved out, which seemed like for good, I was losing my security blanket, the person who I could always go to when I needed something, anything really. It was hard watching her pull out of my driveway with my dad driving and grandma next to him. Sammi was in the back, next to a pile of her belongings, and the last thing I saw as they pulled away were tears strolling down her cheeks.
For the longest time growing up my mom was a babysitter, pretty much running a day care in my house. When she started working though, the burden of keeping everyone on track when my dad wasn’t home turned to Sammi. She would be the one who had to make sure everyone got their chores done, and then proceed to do her own, while trying to not allow fights to escalate. Most often though it would turn into me and her fighting, literally fist fights. One time it got so out of hand that we broke our phonebook. That was not a good day. Since Sammi was the one in charge, she was right. I was not. Even in the rare times I actually was right my other two sisters wouldn’t back me up. I never ended up winning those fights, because in the end I would be in trouble somehow. But even with all that going on, Sammi still would have to find time to make dinner, do the laundry, and do her homework. She was the perfect role model for me and my other two sisters because with all that going on, she only ever had 1 B on a report card, in 4th grade math, and strait As the rest of her career throughout high school.
All that did come with perks though. With 4 kids, our basement could be littered with toys at times. So on the occasional weekend when it was time to finally clean the basement, it meant put the toys back all in the right containers and in place. Sammi would always come up with the brilliant plan of dumping all the toys out, enough to cover the entire basement, and reorganize everything. That is all she had to do though. Within about 15 minutes of her getting the basement an even bigger mess she would be upstairs watching some old movie on TV with my parents. When I would try that I would be told to get downstairs and clean up the huge mess. It just wasn’t fair.
Sammi had to do this until she was a sophomore in high school. At that time I was in 8th grade. It was the time span between about Valentine’s Day until Easter. My sisters were all out of the house, I forget where, and my mom was gone also. It was when my dad broke the news to me. I always had a different kind of relationship with him then my sisters. When I was younger bed time was at 9. About an hour after bed time though, my dad would check to see if I was still awake, and if so, I was allowed to watch the rest of the Rangers game that was on. It was something I always tried to stay awake for, waiting for him to say I could come out from bed and watch the hockey game with him. He would sit right up by the television with a big Dallas Cowboys pillow on the floor leaning next to the couch. At that time I loved watching hockey, but even more so, when they fought. When a fight would break out of TV, I would look at my dad and say, “You know what they said to each other? We gotta fight.” That would be followed by me, at 5 years old, trying to beat up my dad. He would win without having to move.
When he broke the news that my mom wanted a divorce though, it was tough. I didn’t know how to handle this, and my dad was sitting in front of me crying. I had now idea how to react to what was happening. The concept of divorce was not something I ever thought I had to worry about. I always heard kids talk about it in school, but I never thought in a million years I would have to deal with it, but yet here it was, right in front of me, happening before I knew it could. I was sitting on the couch in my living room and I started petting my puppies, less then a year old at the time. They are 2 labs, brothers, one yellow, the other black. A dog fight probably was going on too, because that is one of their favorite past times. My dad turned the TV off before saying anything, so I knew it was a big deal. I guess he didn’t know how else, or who else to say it to. It was just me and him in our house, my house, and he had this huge rain cloud pushing down on him, fogging up the room. He was sitting in his old dark blue broken recliner. I was to his right, where our couch was pushed up against the wall. His face got red, but it wasn’t because he was angry. He started crying right in front of me. I think at that moment is when I started to share this leadership role with Sammi.
There were a few family discussions we had after everyone found out, and until we all moved our separate ways. I don’t remember if I was the one that told my sisters what was going to happen with my parents, or if I was told not to mention anything. My mom was angry though that I found out. If it were up to her, she would have waited until we were actually moving. She would ask me questions though before everyone else knew what was happening. Sammi had a hockey tournament, in Chicago or Detroit, but on the ride there she called me to talk. At that time my sisters didn’t know what was going on. They were in the car with her though, all of them sleeping. She was asking how my other sisters should found out, when she should tell them, and others of that sort. She even asked me a few times if she should go through with it. Isn’t that ridiculous? Asking your son if you should divorce his dad?
There was a time after everyone knew when an argument broke out between my parents. My dad had been sleeping in my room for a couple nights, maybe a week before this argument. To clear things up, my dad never wanted a divorce, not during it at least. But this argument was well after my sisters were in bed. I should have been, but instead I was lying on the living room floor pretending to be asleep. My mom asked my dad, “What high school boy wants to be living in the same room as his father?” I didn’t move to that, but I was thinking it doesn’t really matter to me. I did not really agree with her at all throughout it though, because she kept claiming the divorce was “for the kids,” and well simply I never thought that to be the case. Sammi and I would vent to each other at how stupid of a thing that was to say, then list all the reasons why it was for her. After the argument was over, my mom went into the kitchen and slumped into a corner. My dad ‘woke me up’ and told me to go help her out. I didn’t tell him that I would rather not, but I knew I had to no matter what.
My parents decided to let each one of the kids, Sammi, Betsy, myself, and Hayley, to decide where they wanted to live. Once when I was alone with my mom I remember her saying that she wanted to fight that. She said that she wanted us all to live with her. I don’t remember how exactly I responded to that, but I know it wasn’t favorably towards what she had said. I actually don’t really remember when or way she told me this. It was definitely multiple times. She would bring it up when she called after we moved. A few times after that too.
But back to deciding. We were all in the living room, my mom one her end by the lamp and computer. The couch we had was really old and a light brown color. The cushioning where she sat for the past 10 years was wearing out, and there was a divot in it so that you could feel the wood under your butt. My dad was sitting in his chair, which is across the narrow room. I feel as if I am floating above this frozen scene as I describe it. I am facing the television as this discussion is going on, and my sisters are all on the other side of the room. Everyone seems just stuck in that point. This is essentially the last memory that I have of living in my house that I grew up in. Slowly the emotion can sink into the room. It seems obvious to say that there is an overwhelming sadness hanging over everyone. I am almost anxious as it comes time for me to say I wanted to go live with my dad. So did Sammi. Betsy went with my mom, and I feel like Hayley just went there to try to even it, if not to make my mom feel better. She does that a lot, goes out of her way to help others in our family.
After that it seems like an auction was going off. My dad had a list of appliances, and different furniture and things of that sort. He would call something off and someone would claim it for there house, trying to make it all even. He asked Sammi if she wanted the washer or dryer, because our dryer was a piece, so obviously we got out the better of that. My mom got the dryer by default, then claimed the kitchen table, the couch, ‘her chair’ (that she never actually sat in), and numerous other things. I don’t think my dad really cared about that kind of stuff. The less there was to move is what he thought probably.
The Friday after Easter we moved out. Sammi, my dad and I went to one house, and Betsy and Hayley went with my mom. The whole experience changed every relationship in my family. For me, I had surprisingly better relationships with everyone, except for my mom that is. Sammi and I grew really close together. I think that is how we got through the situation without problems. After 8th grade I transferred school districts too, which apparently is supposed to give people a lot of stress. I guess with all that had happened, it was easy to take on a new challenge because I knew it would be easier to get through.
It was made easy in a way, because Sammi was going to my new school for half a day too for a program she got into. I followed her into the same program when I was a junior. The day she left for college though is another time I won’t forget soon. Her freshmen year in college was spent at a school in Maine. The name of the school is Bowdoin, a small division 3 school that is 12 hours from where we lived. Over the previous 2 years of living together we gained a closer relationship then I had with Betsy and Hayley. We would be able to share problems with each other, talk to each other when angry or upset with something, or even just to hang out. I realized that me and Sammi had a lot better relationship then a lot of my friends had with their siblings. They always seemed to be at odds with each other, fighting constantly, but we didn’t. I didn’t fight that much with any of my sisters actually. The divorce brought my sisters and me together like nothing else could. I know for a fact that my relationships with Sammi, Betsy and Hayley would all be drastically different if we still lived in the same house, our house that we grew up in. But the day Sammi moved out, which seemed like for good, I was losing my security blanket, the person who I could always go to when I needed something, anything really. It was hard watching her pull out of my driveway with my dad driving and grandma next to him. Sammi was in the back, next to a pile of her belongings, and the last thing I saw as they pulled away were tears strolling down her cheeks.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Family Memoir
In my family I am more of the independent one, the competitive one, and probably considered the lazy one too. I can be a leader, or the one my sisters look to when times are troubling, but most often that part goes to my oldest sister, Sammi. She is the initial one her three younger siblings, Betsy, myself, and Hayley usually turn to. Betsy is a year older then me. She typically will look to Sammi for just about all her advice, although if she isn’t answering her cell phone, like most times, Betsy will call me to find out what to do. When I have a problem, I will turn to Sammi first too. Even before my dad. She always needed to step up and be older then she actually is, ever since she was in 5th or 6th grade. Around the time my mom started working.
For the longest time growing up my mom babysitter, pretty much running a day care in my house. When she started working though, the burden of keeping everyone on track when my dad wasn’t home turned to Sammi. She would be the one who had to make sure everyone got their chores done, then proceed to do her own, while trying to not allow fights to escalate. Most often though it would turn into me and her fighting. One time it got so out of hand that we ended up breaking our phonebook. That was not a good day, because since Sammi was the one in charge, she was right. I wasn’t. Even in the rare times I actually was right my other two sisters wouldn’t back me up. I never ended up winning those fights, because in the end I would be in trouble somehow. But even with all that going on, Sammi still would have to find time to make dinner, and do her homework. She was the perfect role model for me and my other two sisters because with all that going on, she only ever had 1 B on a report card, in 4th grade math, and strait As the rest of her career throughout high school.
All that did come with perks though. With 4 kids, our basement could be littered with toys at times. So on the occasional weekend when it was time to finally clean the basement, it meant put the toys back all in the right containers and in place. Sammi would always come up with the brilliant plan of dumping all the toys out, enough to cover the entire basement, and reorganize everything. That is all she had to do though. Within about 15 minutes of her getting the basement an even bigger mess she would be upstairs watching some old movie on TV with my parents. When I would try that I would be told to get downstairs and clean up the huge mess. It just wasn’t fair.
Sammi had to do this until she was a sophomore in high school. At that time I was in 8th grade. It was the time span between about Valentine’s Day until Easter. My sisters were all out of the house, I forget where, and my mom was gone also. It was when my dad broke the news to me. I always had a different kind of relationship with him then my sisters. When I was younger bed time was at 9. About an hour after bed time though, my dad would check to see if I was still awake, and if so, I was allowed to watch the rest of the Rangers game that was on. It was something I always tried to stay awake for, waiting for him to say I could come out from bed and watch the hockey game with him. When he broke the news that my mom wanted a divorce though, it was tough. I didn’t know how to handle this, and my dad was sitting in front of me crying. I had now idea how to react to what was happening.
The concept of divorce was not something I ever thought I had to worry about. I always heard kids talk about it in school, but I never thought in a million years I would have to deal with it, but yet here it was, right in front of me, happening before I knew it could. I was sitting on the couch in my living room and I started petting my puppies, less then a year old at the time. My dad turned the TV off before saying anything, so I knew it was a big deal. I guess he didn’t know how else, or who else to say it to. It was just me and him in our house, my house, and he had this huge rain cloud pushing down on him, fogging up the room. He was sitting in his old dark blue broken recliner. I was to his right, where our couch was pushed up against the wall. His face got red, but it wasn’t because he was angry. He started crying right in front of me. I think at that moment is when I started to share this leadership role with Sammi.
The Friday after Easter we moved out. Sammi, my dad and I went to one house, and Betsy and Hayley went with my mom. I don’t remember if I was the one that told her what was going to happen with my parents, or if I was told not to mention anything. My mom was angry though. She even asked me a few times if she should go through with it. Isn’t that ridiculous? Asking your son if you should divorce his dad? The whole experience changed every relationship in my family. For me, I had surprisingly better relationships with everyone, except for my mom that is. Sammi and I grew really close together. I think that is how we got through the situation without problems. After 8th grade I transferred school districts too, which apparently is supposed to give people a lot of stress. I guess with all that had happened, it was easy to take on a new challenge because I knew it would be easier to get through.
It was made easy in a way, because Sammi was going to my new school for half a day too for a program she got into. I followed her into the same program when I was a junior. The day she left for college though is another time I won’t forget soon. Her freshmen year in college was spent at a school in Maine. The name of the school is Bowdoin, a small division 3 school that is 12 hours from where we lived. Over the previous 2 years of living together we gained a closer relationship then I had with Betsy and Hayley. We would be able to share problems with each other, talk to each other when angry or upset with something, or even just to hang out. I realized that me and Sammi had a lot better relationship then a lot of my friends had with their siblings. They always seemed to be at odds with each other, fighting constantly, but we didn’t. I didn’t fight that much with any of my sisters actually. The divorce brought my sisters and me together like nothing else could. I know for a fact that my relationships with Sammi, Betsy and Hayley would all be drastically different if we still lived in the same house, our house that we grew up in. But the day Sammi moved out, which seemed like for good, I was losing my security blanket, the person who I could always go to when I needed something, anything really. It was hard watching her pull out of my driveway with my dad driving and grandma next to him. Sammi was in the back, next to a pile of her belongings, and the last thing I saw as they pulled away were tears strolling down her cheeks.
For the longest time growing up my mom babysitter, pretty much running a day care in my house. When she started working though, the burden of keeping everyone on track when my dad wasn’t home turned to Sammi. She would be the one who had to make sure everyone got their chores done, then proceed to do her own, while trying to not allow fights to escalate. Most often though it would turn into me and her fighting. One time it got so out of hand that we ended up breaking our phonebook. That was not a good day, because since Sammi was the one in charge, she was right. I wasn’t. Even in the rare times I actually was right my other two sisters wouldn’t back me up. I never ended up winning those fights, because in the end I would be in trouble somehow. But even with all that going on, Sammi still would have to find time to make dinner, and do her homework. She was the perfect role model for me and my other two sisters because with all that going on, she only ever had 1 B on a report card, in 4th grade math, and strait As the rest of her career throughout high school.
All that did come with perks though. With 4 kids, our basement could be littered with toys at times. So on the occasional weekend when it was time to finally clean the basement, it meant put the toys back all in the right containers and in place. Sammi would always come up with the brilliant plan of dumping all the toys out, enough to cover the entire basement, and reorganize everything. That is all she had to do though. Within about 15 minutes of her getting the basement an even bigger mess she would be upstairs watching some old movie on TV with my parents. When I would try that I would be told to get downstairs and clean up the huge mess. It just wasn’t fair.
Sammi had to do this until she was a sophomore in high school. At that time I was in 8th grade. It was the time span between about Valentine’s Day until Easter. My sisters were all out of the house, I forget where, and my mom was gone also. It was when my dad broke the news to me. I always had a different kind of relationship with him then my sisters. When I was younger bed time was at 9. About an hour after bed time though, my dad would check to see if I was still awake, and if so, I was allowed to watch the rest of the Rangers game that was on. It was something I always tried to stay awake for, waiting for him to say I could come out from bed and watch the hockey game with him. When he broke the news that my mom wanted a divorce though, it was tough. I didn’t know how to handle this, and my dad was sitting in front of me crying. I had now idea how to react to what was happening.
The concept of divorce was not something I ever thought I had to worry about. I always heard kids talk about it in school, but I never thought in a million years I would have to deal with it, but yet here it was, right in front of me, happening before I knew it could. I was sitting on the couch in my living room and I started petting my puppies, less then a year old at the time. My dad turned the TV off before saying anything, so I knew it was a big deal. I guess he didn’t know how else, or who else to say it to. It was just me and him in our house, my house, and he had this huge rain cloud pushing down on him, fogging up the room. He was sitting in his old dark blue broken recliner. I was to his right, where our couch was pushed up against the wall. His face got red, but it wasn’t because he was angry. He started crying right in front of me. I think at that moment is when I started to share this leadership role with Sammi.
The Friday after Easter we moved out. Sammi, my dad and I went to one house, and Betsy and Hayley went with my mom. I don’t remember if I was the one that told her what was going to happen with my parents, or if I was told not to mention anything. My mom was angry though. She even asked me a few times if she should go through with it. Isn’t that ridiculous? Asking your son if you should divorce his dad? The whole experience changed every relationship in my family. For me, I had surprisingly better relationships with everyone, except for my mom that is. Sammi and I grew really close together. I think that is how we got through the situation without problems. After 8th grade I transferred school districts too, which apparently is supposed to give people a lot of stress. I guess with all that had happened, it was easy to take on a new challenge because I knew it would be easier to get through.
It was made easy in a way, because Sammi was going to my new school for half a day too for a program she got into. I followed her into the same program when I was a junior. The day she left for college though is another time I won’t forget soon. Her freshmen year in college was spent at a school in Maine. The name of the school is Bowdoin, a small division 3 school that is 12 hours from where we lived. Over the previous 2 years of living together we gained a closer relationship then I had with Betsy and Hayley. We would be able to share problems with each other, talk to each other when angry or upset with something, or even just to hang out. I realized that me and Sammi had a lot better relationship then a lot of my friends had with their siblings. They always seemed to be at odds with each other, fighting constantly, but we didn’t. I didn’t fight that much with any of my sisters actually. The divorce brought my sisters and me together like nothing else could. I know for a fact that my relationships with Sammi, Betsy and Hayley would all be drastically different if we still lived in the same house, our house that we grew up in. But the day Sammi moved out, which seemed like for good, I was losing my security blanket, the person who I could always go to when I needed something, anything really. It was hard watching her pull out of my driveway with my dad driving and grandma next to him. Sammi was in the back, next to a pile of her belongings, and the last thing I saw as they pulled away were tears strolling down her cheeks.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Part 2 of RF
So, once again, I feel like I do not know that much about what is going on in the book, and I know nothing more about Mr. Michael Ondaatje. He seems more as if he is telling a story about where he is from, mainly Ceylon through all the poems, but more so about his family. I think it is really important for him to let us know as much about his family as possible. I hope that maybe later in the memoir, maybe collection of essays, that he will go further into himself.
To touch on what exactly this is, I am starting to feel that it is almost a collection of short stories. The poems kind of brought me to this conclusion, but also how it seems so disorganized. Ondaatje went from about 4 poems in a row about Ceylon, and kind of the culture going on in Ceylon, to talking about the Insurgence. It just seems in an odd order when reading, and that no chapter or story really goes off the one before.
I did like the Kegalle(ii). I feel like in this chapter we found a little bit about Michael and his family when he was growing up. The story is good too, because it relates to his trying to describe about Ceylon culture, while also talking about his family. The story is about how his stepmother and father had to shoot snakes that would sneak into their house with a shotgun. After his father died, an old silver cobra then comes periodically and everytime the stepmother tried to shoot it, the shotgun would misfire. After that, the Insurgence had to take the shotgun. But the story relates to Ceylon culture because they talk about how the snake is actually a reincarnation of their father as this old cobra to protect the family. You see, since the cobra started coming, other snakes stayed away for the most part, and this cobra never attacked. This is a short story, but it lets the reader know a lot of information about what was going on in Ceylon, to a little of how his family was.
To touch on what exactly this is, I am starting to feel that it is almost a collection of short stories. The poems kind of brought me to this conclusion, but also how it seems so disorganized. Ondaatje went from about 4 poems in a row about Ceylon, and kind of the culture going on in Ceylon, to talking about the Insurgence. It just seems in an odd order when reading, and that no chapter or story really goes off the one before.
I did like the Kegalle(ii). I feel like in this chapter we found a little bit about Michael and his family when he was growing up. The story is good too, because it relates to his trying to describe about Ceylon culture, while also talking about his family. The story is about how his stepmother and father had to shoot snakes that would sneak into their house with a shotgun. After his father died, an old silver cobra then comes periodically and everytime the stepmother tried to shoot it, the shotgun would misfire. After that, the Insurgence had to take the shotgun. But the story relates to Ceylon culture because they talk about how the snake is actually a reincarnation of their father as this old cobra to protect the family. You see, since the cobra started coming, other snakes stayed away for the most part, and this cobra never attacked. This is a short story, but it lets the reader know a lot of information about what was going on in Ceylon, to a little of how his family was.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Running in the Family
This memoir is a lot different from the others that we have read. So far, it seems like this is more about the family, and less about the actual author. At this stage in the other two novels, you know a lot about the author. After the first reading in this though, I know pretty much nothing about the author. So far it seems more of a history of this guys family. I know a lot more about Michael's father then I know about him. The writing style thus far is a lot different too. Ondaatje has a simple writing style, but then throws in some big words, and it just isn't fun reading at this point. It has been really hard to get through this because it seems like it skips, and there is not a lot of anything happening. I am having trouble trying to figure out what is going on, and often find myself trying to go back and pick up things I missed, or that I just didn't remember from a page ago. Monsoon Notebook (i) is a perfect example of this. It is a really short chapter, much like the rest of this book, but one of the pages us a full paragraph. The way that this is structured is just difficult to read, but also I just don't know what the chapter is saying. I try to reread it, but just get lost and do not find much of what is going on. This comes after they were in Ceylon looking for paperwork of Reverend Jurgen Ondaatje, then the memoir goes into talking about his oldest son Simon. I just find it difficult trying to follow the story of the book.
Friday, February 13, 2009
900 FSB
In Fathers, Sons, & Brothers, Bret Lott takes small events and makes them have a much greater importance. Lott shows this through 2 examples; the drive out to Wadmalaw Island, and in the essay ‘Sound’ at the end when he finds this wonderful noise after his paper route. He focuses in on these small, seemingly meaningless events, but turns them into something much better with the use of lyrical words, the flow of his sentences, and the tone changes in his writing.
A great example of where Lott brings a greater meaning out of a seemingly insignificant event is when he is in Wadmalaw. He says, "Though she does not know this yet, the view from here is the most beautiful gift I can remember Melanie giving me, and already I'm lining up words in the back of my head to give back to her once we drive back home... words that will amount, I know already, only to a meager translation of all I've seen"(149). Lott says what the whole chapter is about through this one sentence. The whole chapter is at the beauty of this experience, the drive to Wadmalaw, but after all the description he tells the reader that he cannot even come close to describing how it actually is. Lott tells more through admitting that his words are only a "meager translation" to the actual beauty that he sees.
There are many times when the reader can relate to what Lott says here, this being so great that it’s indescribable. The reason why this sticks out to the reader is because of the great picture that Lott laid out before hand. There is an image in the mind of the reader, and when Lott suddenly says no wait this is only a meager translation, just a little bit of what I am experiencing right now, then it puts this great picture that is already in the mind of the reader onto an unreachable pedestal.
Lott also does another tactic to make this sentence stand out to the reader. His writing style changes in this sentence compared to the rest of the essay. Lott writes this to have a flow to what he is saying. This flow happens because Lott has terrific use of commas, and lyrical words. The first is easy to see. Commas are obvious and stand out to the reader. Instead of putting a period at the end of each idea, he puts these commas in so the reader just feels like they need to keep going. If he were to stick a period at the end of each sentence then Lott would definitely not get this desired effect on the reader. He also uses these lyrical words though. They are words that do not necessarily stand out, but together seem to give an uplifting tone different from the rest of the essay. Lott says that he received “most beautiful gift” from Melanie. This is an example of these lyrical words that Lott uses. Ordinary enough if they stood alone, but saying the most beautiful gift leaves some sort of mystique around it. The reader knows through these types of adjectives, and also the run on of the commas Lott, uses that he really is trying to emphasize this sentence, and set it apart from the rest of the essay.
The reader gets this type of writing style before in the collection of essays. In ‘Sound’ Lott does this at the end after going through what he had done during the day. He says, “It was what I waited for, something even more mysterious than a snake on the driveway, than a shooting star above me while a folded papers on a winter morning: the high-pitched and constant flow of sound in the room, right there in my ears, a sound so loud, the house quiet, my body whipped by the work of delivering all those papers, that at times I thought my head would burst with it, and I had to sniff or cough or hum a song just to make sure the world wasn’t drowning in all that sound”(22). Lott uses these lyrical words again, and the flow of sentences to get this thing that seems so small, a noise he heard after delivering all of the newspapers, to this much greater amplification in meaning. He changes quickly from the type of tone at the beginning of the essay, to this once again, uplifting or enlightening feeling.
Before this part, Lott is simply explaining the paths he took, the encounters he would take on daily, and the houses he threw papers at during his route. But when he gets to this part, it all takes on a much greater meaning. The sound he hears, which he later says he found out was his blood rushing in his ears, was a point for him to feel accomplished, better then the rest of his family still sleeping, and almost superhuman since he thought he had the hearing of a dog. This is all shown by how excited his writing gets while explaining this, his flow and lyrical words behind what seems like something ordinary to anyone else, but extraordinary to Lott.
Shown in these two quotes, is how Lott can turn what seems to be small inconsequential events into something that is more. Much more than just more though, into something of significant importance to Lott, as a kid and as an adult. He takes the two things, and finds the absolute beauty in them. More so, he does this through his writing, by changing the tone, the flow of sentences and using more lyrical words.
A great example of where Lott brings a greater meaning out of a seemingly insignificant event is when he is in Wadmalaw. He says, "Though she does not know this yet, the view from here is the most beautiful gift I can remember Melanie giving me, and already I'm lining up words in the back of my head to give back to her once we drive back home... words that will amount, I know already, only to a meager translation of all I've seen"(149). Lott says what the whole chapter is about through this one sentence. The whole chapter is at the beauty of this experience, the drive to Wadmalaw, but after all the description he tells the reader that he cannot even come close to describing how it actually is. Lott tells more through admitting that his words are only a "meager translation" to the actual beauty that he sees.
There are many times when the reader can relate to what Lott says here, this being so great that it’s indescribable. The reason why this sticks out to the reader is because of the great picture that Lott laid out before hand. There is an image in the mind of the reader, and when Lott suddenly says no wait this is only a meager translation, just a little bit of what I am experiencing right now, then it puts this great picture that is already in the mind of the reader onto an unreachable pedestal.
Lott also does another tactic to make this sentence stand out to the reader. His writing style changes in this sentence compared to the rest of the essay. Lott writes this to have a flow to what he is saying. This flow happens because Lott has terrific use of commas, and lyrical words. The first is easy to see. Commas are obvious and stand out to the reader. Instead of putting a period at the end of each idea, he puts these commas in so the reader just feels like they need to keep going. If he were to stick a period at the end of each sentence then Lott would definitely not get this desired effect on the reader. He also uses these lyrical words though. They are words that do not necessarily stand out, but together seem to give an uplifting tone different from the rest of the essay. Lott says that he received “most beautiful gift” from Melanie. This is an example of these lyrical words that Lott uses. Ordinary enough if they stood alone, but saying the most beautiful gift leaves some sort of mystique around it. The reader knows through these types of adjectives, and also the run on of the commas Lott, uses that he really is trying to emphasize this sentence, and set it apart from the rest of the essay.
The reader gets this type of writing style before in the collection of essays. In ‘Sound’ Lott does this at the end after going through what he had done during the day. He says, “It was what I waited for, something even more mysterious than a snake on the driveway, than a shooting star above me while a folded papers on a winter morning: the high-pitched and constant flow of sound in the room, right there in my ears, a sound so loud, the house quiet, my body whipped by the work of delivering all those papers, that at times I thought my head would burst with it, and I had to sniff or cough or hum a song just to make sure the world wasn’t drowning in all that sound”(22). Lott uses these lyrical words again, and the flow of sentences to get this thing that seems so small, a noise he heard after delivering all of the newspapers, to this much greater amplification in meaning. He changes quickly from the type of tone at the beginning of the essay, to this once again, uplifting or enlightening feeling.
Before this part, Lott is simply explaining the paths he took, the encounters he would take on daily, and the houses he threw papers at during his route. But when he gets to this part, it all takes on a much greater meaning. The sound he hears, which he later says he found out was his blood rushing in his ears, was a point for him to feel accomplished, better then the rest of his family still sleeping, and almost superhuman since he thought he had the hearing of a dog. This is all shown by how excited his writing gets while explaining this, his flow and lyrical words behind what seems like something ordinary to anyone else, but extraordinary to Lott.
Shown in these two quotes, is how Lott can turn what seems to be small inconsequential events into something that is more. Much more than just more though, into something of significant importance to Lott, as a kid and as an adult. He takes the two things, and finds the absolute beauty in them. More so, he does this through his writing, by changing the tone, the flow of sentences and using more lyrical words.
Monday, February 9, 2009
300 words on FSB
In Fathers, Sons, & Brothers, Bret Lott takes small events and makes them have a much greater importance. He does this by... (says he cannot describe so he makes them into a much greater importance then what they actually are to help convey how he feels about them.) Lott shows this through 2 examples; the drive out to Wadmalaw Island, and when he is looking at Zeb ride his bike when he is only four years old (look at Sound, maybe change this example). He focuses in on these small, seemingly meaningless events, but by going through the depth of description on them can show how great these events are to him. (tone, word choices. add another sentence here to clear up.)
(clear up this sentence, make more of an intro)
In Wadmalaw he waits until the end to talk about this. Lott says, "Though she does not know this yet, the view from here is the most beautiful gift I can remember Melanie giving me, and already I'm lining up words in the back of my head to give back to her once we drive back home... words that will amount,I know already, only to a meager translation of all I've seen"(149). This part is significant to the essay, and stands out by itself. When reading, there is a sense of uplifting in the tone of his writing at this time. Before he was describing how wonderful this event is, but yet says he only falls short of being able to actually reflect it all in his writing. This leaves the reader with a guess at what he is experiencing, but really its no guess at all. (He tells more through admitting that his words are only a "meager translation" of it all then his actual ability to describe the scene.){go off of this sentence) As a reader one feels that they are in a better place experiencing what Lott was actually going through on the drive back to Melanie. He was at a complete awe, and ease with that moment, that view, and through his writing leaves the reader where he is, in almost a mystical translation of what he actually saw.
Lott also does this when talking about watching Zeb chase the Boy Scout down the street.... (will continue on this idea in 900 word post)....
Through these two descriptions Lott lifts the reader to almost an innocent state, one of complete wonder as to what he is going through, and yet, knowing the same feeling.
(clear up this sentence, make more of an intro)
In Wadmalaw he waits until the end to talk about this. Lott says, "Though she does not know this yet, the view from here is the most beautiful gift I can remember Melanie giving me, and already I'm lining up words in the back of my head to give back to her once we drive back home... words that will amount,I know already, only to a meager translation of all I've seen"(149). This part is significant to the essay, and stands out by itself. When reading, there is a sense of uplifting in the tone of his writing at this time. Before he was describing how wonderful this event is, but yet says he only falls short of being able to actually reflect it all in his writing. This leaves the reader with a guess at what he is experiencing, but really its no guess at all. (He tells more through admitting that his words are only a "meager translation" of it all then his actual ability to describe the scene.){go off of this sentence) As a reader one feels that they are in a better place experiencing what Lott was actually going through on the drive back to Melanie. He was at a complete awe, and ease with that moment, that view, and through his writing leaves the reader where he is, in almost a mystical translation of what he actually saw.
Lott also does this when talking about watching Zeb chase the Boy Scout down the street.... (will continue on this idea in 900 word post)....
Through these two descriptions Lott lifts the reader to almost an innocent state, one of complete wonder as to what he is going through, and yet, knowing the same feeling.
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