Memories

Instead of remembering the bad things, remember what happened immediately before...Because of all that, my father always remembered the second before my mother left him for good and took me with her. No. I remembered the second before my father left my mother and me. No. My mother remembered the second before my father left her to finish raising me be herself.

Have you ever noticed that of everything that has happened to us in our lives, we tend to remember the bad things the most vividly. I look back on elementary school and remember some of the good times, but for the most part, I can remember little instances in which I was made fun of or hurt in such a way. Those are the memories I will remember forever. So what happened to treasuring our memories?

Sherman Alexie is on to a good idea in his story "Because My Father Always Said He was the Only Indian Who Saw Jimi Hendrix Play 'The Star-Spangled Banner' at Woodstock." He addresses the idea of remembering the good times right before the bad times, instead of remembering the bad times themselves. Then when you look back on your lives, you can feel like you've had your share of good times without becoming too concerned with the bad aspects of your life. But then again, sometimes it's valuable to remember the bad times and learn from them, so they aren't repeated.

Another way Sherman Alexie addresses memories is in his descriptions of the dad's, the mom's, and the son's different memories of the same event. Multiple people can experience the same event but remember it completely differently. Everyone comes from a different perspective because everyone is different. Events can evoke one emotion in one person and a completely different emotion in someone else. In this way, everyone can learn something different from the same event.

Memories are important...they teach us different things and help us to learn from our mistakes. But it is important not to dwell too much on bad memories. Instead, remember the good times that happened right before the bad times. Treasure and safe guard good memories and learn from the bad ones. And remember...memories are different for everyone. No two people are exactly the same..and that's the way it should be.

Double Personality or a Really Good Actor?

Up until the last page of “The Life You Save May Be Your Own” by Flannery O’Connor, I was under the impression that Tom Shiftlet was a nice, hard-working man who had already seen too much bad in the world. He seemed to enjoy the little beauties in life, like watching the sunset and talking with new friends. When he first started working for the Craters, I assumed that he needed a place to stay, and he wanted to be able to help these people out. The old woman seemed to think that too. He worked hard and even taught the daughter a word (significant because she had never spoken before).

Even the things he said seemed to go along with his “first” (or “faked”) personality. He told the women that he had never married because he couldn’t find “an innocent woman today.” “He had a look of composed dissatisfaction as if he understood life thoroughly.” These words led me to believe that Shiftlet was a good, decent man in a world where there weren’t any. When he married the daughter, I thought even better of him because he was willing to deal with her problems…then came the incident in the diner.

When his wife, the younger Lucynell Crater, fell asleep in the diner on the way to their honeymoon, Shiftlet told the worker that she was a hitchhiker, and he couldn’t wait for her to wake up. Then he left her there. Amazingly enough, he picked up an actual hitchhiker later on and started a speech on how his mother was an amazing woman, and God took her from him. At this point, I had lost faith in Tom T. Shiftlet. To me, he was a really good actor who used the two women for his gain—getting a car (with all the parts to fix it up paid for). In the second to last paragraph, there was a line that made me even more disgusted by Shiftlet. “Mr. Shiftlet felt that the rottenness of the world was about to engulf him. He raised his arm and let if fall again to his breast. ‘Oh Lord!’ he prayed. ‘Break forth and wash the slime from this earth!” That’s ridiculous. If he wanted the slime washed from the earth, he would be gone to because he’s part of it.

By the end of the story, it was easier to tell what kind of man he actually was. I looked back to the beginning and began to see some foreshadowing for an event like this. First off, his name was a clue. Shiftlet. It sounds a little shifty to me. He continually asked the old woman for money to fix up the car. But what would the two women need the car for? They had gotten along without it well enough before. Finally, he tried to squeeze every last cent from the old woman for the honeymoon…but really for himself. It says he “was deeply hurt by the word ‘milk.’” That seems suspicious because he was actually trying to milk her. Maybe he was hurt by that word because he didn’t want to appear so obvious.

Basically, Tom T. Shiftlet was a good actor. He was a man who could charm women out of their money no matter how despicable he had to be to get it. I’m sorry I ever fell for his act at the beginning of the story with all the foreshadowing and warning signals O’Connor was laying out.

Height is Figurative

At the thought of writing a statement about one of my beliefs, I drew a blank. It's not that I have no beliefs; I have too many. To pick one to write about would be difficult. But as I thought about it, I realized that recently one of my beliefs was more firmly established. It was so recent that it almost seemed to be a bigger part of me, especially considering how it was affirmed inside of me.

This I believe: serving others makes you taller. Humbling yourself in actuality lifts you up. Take Hurricane Katrina, for instance. In response to that disaster, hundreds of people volunteered to help out. But they weren't doing the glamorous jobs. They would clean up debris, build houses, and even muck out houses, but we respect them. By their actions, they are made greater in the eyes of others.

Recently this belief was reinforced in my mind at my great-grandfather's funeral. My mom, his granddaughter, stepped up to the podium. She explained how her grandfather was the tallest man she knew. now he was tall, but he wasn't literally the tallest. For her, he was tall because he was constantly leaning down to help and support others.

He loved my great-grandmother, his wife of 69 years, and went out of his way to show that. When his grandchildren would visit, he got down and played with them. No activity was too embarrassing or humbling for him to do. As he brought himself lower, he became taller.

This I believe: height is figurative. You must lower yourself first in order to grow taller.