The Worst of a Bad Situation

"It took several days for me to realize Luke was not coming to my new foster home, which was nowhere near my grandfather's house. I wondered what was so horrible about me and why I had been rejected again. Then there was my perpetual question: What had I done that was so terrible that I had to be taken from my mother? I had no idea why she hadn't been able to get me back. You would think someone would have explained it in words a child could understand. Yet nobody did. I believed they were keeping secrets from me- but supposedly, they thought they were protecting me."
-Ashely Rhodes-Courter, Three Little Words

Foster care is something generally overlooked in America as an issue; most foster care homes are overrun with children and toys that many "parents" cannot remember the names of all the children they are fostering. Or the homes are so unaccustomed to the presence of children and how to deal with them that many foster kids find themselves frightened, unwelcome. Webster's defines it simply as to bring up a child that is not one's own by birth. Yet the true definition of foster care is something to be found in the stories and experiences told about it.

Foster care is traumatizing; it can be all the bad situations that can be found in a middle American low-income home all in one. There are of course, exceptions to this, but in the grand scheme of foster care, those who welcome foster children into their homes may not be the most stable of people or properly equipped to care for children. While the government may check to ensure these things, who can say what goes on behind locked doors, or what foster parents are truly like when they are not being scrutinized by the Federal Government? The negative affects of foster care are many and extreme ones at that. Child abuse is foster homes is increasingly common, and for those who enter foster care at a young age, their nuerodevelopment can be permanently messed up along with serious psychological defects.

Whether or not Ashley Rhodes-Courter experienced any of this mental damage is something we'll never know, although the physical and mental trauma displayed in her book, Three Little Words, knows no bounds. The book opens with some of the most catastrophic scenes of her life; her stepdad Dusty beating her mother, her brother that died after two months and who her mother put in a cardboard box, and, probably the most painful of all, being torn from her mother's arms as her mother got arrested and Ashley and her one surviving brother being forced into foster care. Continuing through this book will be an agonizing experience, for I know that from now on Ashley's foster care situation will worsen, rather than improve, or else there would be no story. But how on earth could this tragic story possibly worsen?

How our Relationships and Bonds Shape Us

The life of a struggling, conflicted writer is one that has been used countless times before; a cliché that we cannot escape. These striving writers are always very deep thinkers, rather scraggly people, who are unorganized due to the clutters and masses of ideas and thoughts contained in their mind. This exact character is portrayed in The World According to Garp, so why was I not so immediately repelled by this book, since I despise clichés and simply cannot stand them? I have concluded that it is the plotline of The World According to Garp that I find so intriguing, and the development of the characters found in this book. Yet when looking further, I realize that the story is just one of a struggling marriage, and how having a feminist mother and the nonexistence of a father shapes a young man's life.

The absence of a father is something I expect to take a large toll on a young man's life; meaning that later in life he will not be capable of playing the role of a father later in life, when he has children.  I expected much the same of Garp whilst reading my book, yet he seems fully capable of loving his kids to the very fullest; making them dinner every night, picking them up from their schools and clubs, worrying about their illnesses and their friends with less than reliable mothers. Garp seems like the perfect father, so how on earth could the nonexistence of one parent not have affected him? I searched the text for evidence of Garp acting as an invalid or fraudulent father, or showcase any actions that may have been better or different had he had a substantial father. But I then found myself stuck with that last thought; how would Garp have acted differently had he had a father? Would he be more levelheaded since he would have had a second parent to act as a counterpart or opposite to his mother's craziness and extreme view of men?

How would our lives be shaped differently had we not met just one single person who has influenced our life in ways that we may not realize. I try and picture my life with an absent father, a predicament such as Garp finds himself in, and I find that I would have been a very different person, one who would have more aspects of my mother's personality, and who would have had a very different sense of humor, if any at all. In the long run, I would not like the person I would be had I not had a father, or more specifically, my father. I believe it is much this way with many of the relationships I hold; had I not had those relationships and the experiences I've had and accumulated over the years, I would be an entirely different person. Which is why it is my belief that we all should value the relationships we have  even if they are awful and have no benefits, for they all teach us something and have something to offer.

Meaning of Siblings

When I was younger and incapable of reading or writing anything other than my name and repetitively singing the alphabet, I would always go along with what my mom and dad suggested for me, or told me to do. This went for whatI should wear, to what vegetables to eat, to which Sesame Street episodes I should watch and when  I should take my nap. This guidance in our earliest childhood years is necessary; how else would we learn to make decisions for ourselves in the future if we don't first see these decisions made for us. It is much the same with the books we read in our early childhood; these books are picked for us by our parents in order to instill important messages and morales that we will use later on in life. And although my parents may have chosen what books they read aloud to me, even among our collection of carefully curated children's picture books, I learned which I loved and wanted read to me over and over again, and which books I thought should have never ben put in our library in the first place. Among those of the former group there was one in particular that always stuck with me, entitled Julius the Baby of the World, by Kevin Henkes.

I always found this particular picture book interesting for many reasons. For one, its pictures are vibrant and colorful and depict the personification of mice, which is found very funny by people ages four and under, for whatever reason. Secondly, the picture book shows the relationship between an older sister and her younger baby brother, and how she learns to love him after rejecting him and hating him for taking her "place" as the one and only loved child in their family. As the story progresses, the protagonist, Lilly, meets her incredibly snobby cousin who agrees with Lilly that her new younger brother, Julius, is disgusting and repugnant, and smells awful. Lilly is suddenly taken aback, and defends her baby brother with all her heart, telling her cousin that he smells of roses and is the most beautiful baby in the world. Whilst reading, we can understand that the author wants children to absorb the meaning of sibling relationships and how important they truly are, and wants us to feel this defensiveness and love Lilly feels towards her baby brother Julius.

I think one of the reasons this book appealed to me so much when I was younger was that it put me in my sister's shoes, so to speak, so I could begin to make sense of our relationship and the different feelings she may have towards me at one point or another. My sister may have felt like she was a perfectly happy only child until I entered the world, and it makes me realize what a difficult transition it must be to have a younger sibling and to adapt to sharing everything with them, to looking out for them and caring for them. To suddenly have a new intrusion in your life that you must play with and love is something that is hard and tumultuous, and this book helped me grow up considering tha my sister doesn't have it all that easy, after all.

The Humiliation of Love

I haven't experienced the devastation one feels when they love someone, yet these feeling are not reciprocated. After all, I am only thirteen. Yet in the book Girl With a Pearl Earring, the character Greitel, who is only fourteen at the beginning of the story, most definitely has experienced this feeling. Greitel is sold as a house maid to the house of the famous Dutch painter Vermeer, and as she begins to clean and tidy up the house of this famous painter and his wife and children, her curiosity blooms. She begins to wonder what mysteries lay in his studio, and she soon finds herself exploring its nooks and crannies, even though anyone other than Vermeer is forbidden to enter it. The painter Vermeer soon gives Greitel the task of his studio cleaner, although even Vermeer's wife is prohibited to enter it. Once Greitel begins to work alongside the magnificent painter Vermeer, and help to clean his tools, mix his paints, and finally, model for one of his paintings, Greitel has found  herself fallen in love with the Dutch painter. No sooner does Greitel admit to herself that she is infatuated with Vermeer than do Vermeer's wife and the other housemaids assume they had an affair, and Greitel must suffer the devastating humiliation of being kicked out of Vermeer's house for supposed adultery, although no such act was conducted.

I myself have never been in this situation, so how can I relate? Greitel and I may only be one or two years apart, but the centuries that separate us make her harmless act look incredibly guilty if I were to conduct the same thing. I cannot feel the shattering and suffocating feeling of love gone wrong. But who ever said that I cannot relate?

Greitel's sadness and humiliation in the concluding chapters of this book are much like my feelings with my grades. I don't love my grades, and my grades are not able to reciprocate whatever feeling I feel for them because they are numbers on paper, they do not show emotion. Yet a bad grade is cold and hard, and reprimands me for not having studied harder, for not getting enough sleep the night before. It mocks me and demeans me, telling me I do not have the potential to go places and to be intelligent. It tells me that I am not trying enough, I am never trying enough. A good grade, in contrast, embraces me in its grip and tells me that this once, I really did do good enough, and that I have a reason to be happy instead of feeling guilt for my happiness. A bad grade casts me out, and society laughs at me, but a good grade embraces me in its arms and ensures my safety.

A Modern Prophet

My relationship with Science Fiction; whether it be books, movies, magazine articles, et cetera, is one that is fraught with dislike and mixed feelings. Ever since I was little, I was disturbed by science fiction, and the images it left frozen in my mind. However, I recently began reading Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Perhaps it's that Kurt Vonnegut's version of science fiction is rather quirky, or that elements of the book are more like historical fiction, or even that the deeper philosophical meaning found in the book is one that I profoundly admire; whatever the reason, I find myself truly loving and enjoying this work of science fiction.

The premise of the story is that a rather ordinary man, who is in no way special and is almost an outcast; in society, among his friends, and among his peers, is given the ability to time travel. This man's name is Billy Pilgrim, and the one component of Billy Pilgrim that makes him such an intriguing character is that Billy Pilgrim is "unstuck" in time. His time travel takes place within his own life, and he therefore repeatedly travels to events that have taken place in his life; to the future where he learns of his death, to the planet of Tralfmadore, where Billy encounters the Tralfmadorians who no believes exist except for Billy, and, most importantly, to the horrors that Billy experienced while fighting in World War II. Yet the part of the book I find most engaging are Billy's visits with the Tralfmadorians, for they teach Billy to view his ordinary, depressing life in a whole new and different perspective. Instead of focusing on each event in life as an individual  occurrence, they look at life as a whole and look at its beauty rather than its faults. They describe humans as having one long tube to look through, and that tube can only focus on one thing at a time rather than focusing on the huge, glorious picture that life is made up of.

Whilst reading, I began to wonder, why was this power of time travel, or rather, being "unstuck" in time, given to a man of such ordinary stature and being. Why Billy Pilgrim? This nobody, who is perfectly ordinary, is given the extraordinary power of being unstuck in time, and experiencing the world of the Tralfamadorians. After Billy's encounters with the Tralfamadorians, he is sent back to earth to spread the word, to explain the people this whole new perspective on life that forces people to look at the bigger picture, at how beautiful their life indeed was. In a way, Billy Pilgrim is almost like a prophet, for he is simply an ordinary man, yet he is then given this power and therefore begins to tell people to look at their lives in a different way, to interpret events as thy've never thought of them before. Life is not a journey, but rather one wonderful moment in the continuation of Time. Life possesses no beginning and no end, and when someone dies it is not sad for you still have memories, pieces of them that you are able to hold on to forever, and those memories are really what truly made up the person and your relationship with that person. And so, perhaps the reason I enjoy this book is that it's a mixture of science fiction, historical fiction, and the introduction of a modern-day prophet. Whatever the reason, I am excited to learn what deeper meaning lies within this book, and I am intrigued as to how this book will conclude itself.

Confinement

We have all felt inclosed, at one point or another, felt as if we are trapped with no escape. It's a common feeling in human beings; to feel as if you are confined in a space, mental or physical, with no escape. I know that before any big test, I begin to feel trapped in my mind as I continuously review subjects and become increasingly stressed out. There's no escape- I must sit in my pool of nerves and stress until that climax of stress, when it all combines to form a tumult of unease and disquietude. This is usually when I finish my test, hand it in, and finally feel the shroud of apprehension lift from my body. But what if there was no flight from the "box" you're encased in, what if it is not mental but physical, tangible? And what if this box you are in is not a box at all, but a real, palpable room in which you have spent your whole life?

In the book Room by Emma Donoghue, Jack has spent the first five years of his adolescence trapped, literally, in a room with his mother. I have only just begun the book, but I begin to see what is terribly wrong with this situation. The book is told from the perspective Jack, and though his description of the world may not be extremely graphic, we still understand that Jack and his mother are trapped in a room where they have lived for all of Jack's five years. A mysterious man named "Old Nick" comes every night and Jack must go in what he refers to as "wardrobe", where he sleeps and hides from Old Nick. It was my first conclusion that Jack and his mother were imprisoned in a jail, yet they seem to be the only ones there, besides Old Nick who only runs their errands and comes every night to Jack's mother, who loathes him. It is now my deduction that Jack and his mother are kept in this room by Old Nick, for whatever reason, and Jack's mother and Old Nick have a sexual relationship of some sort. Whatever the reason may be, something is terribly amiss if Jack has spent the first half-decade of his life trapped in a room, without seeing anything that may be outside of the room. For a room to be the only room he knows, and for his friends to be what he refers to as "Chair" and "Rug." If the only world a five-year old knows is a 121 square-foot space, I say there is something seriously flawed in his life.

In much the same way, a child's adolescence should not consist of wartime regimes, guns, and deaths. After researching child soldiers and making observations on their lives for the past few days, I can relate both Jack's life to the lives of the child soldiers worldwide. In fact, it is my belief that the lives of child soldiers and the life of Jack are on two ends of the "trapped in a box" spectrum. Whereas child soldiers are trapped in a world of battles, the witnessing of killings, and exposure to things way beyond their years, Jack is exposed to a universe of boring nothingness, and hasn't experienced enough of the world for his age. Both child soldiers and Jack will never truly escape their box; Jack will forever be scarred by his first childhood years in the room and will have difficulties adjusting to the outside world, and child soldiers will be forever on the battlefield, their development disrupted and their nervous systems maimed. To contain a child in any sort of box; be it mental, physical, metaphorical, is abuse. Children should not be left to roam free in the streets, without any parent to love them or any sort of guidance through life, yet they should also not be so restrained that they are mentally damaged. As with most things in life, I believe the key is balance and moderation. Although from time to time, we all find ourselves in a box.

The Final Stage of Maturity

It is a struggle to accept your parents for all that they are, and for all that they have been in the past. It is even more of a difficult task to endure your mother and father if they are insane, or possess some quality that is "off", that you can't quite put a finger on. If your parents have mental obstacles or issues of some sort, or are moderately passive aggressive, or simply had some major flaw, it is strenuous for us, their children, to recognize these qualities whilst living in their households and adhering to their rules. A child looks up to their parents, from day one, for they are the ones to raise you care for you, and love you passionately. If you are rejected in some other social form, you always have your parents to fall back on. We do not acknowledge, or are not aware, of how psychotic and deranged our parents truly are; we find them to be perfectly normal. But even when we do begin to discern this possible insanity or flaw within our parents, in our adolescent and teenage years, our perception of what are parents truly our is marred by a veil of hormones and self-obsessment.

I will not say that my parents possess some major flaw that everyone needs to be aware of; it is my opinion that my parents are relatively normal and are not verging on insanity, or any major defect in their character that I am aware of. But as I said before, while we are children, or what the law defines as children, it is a great hindrance to identify our parents' true imperfections and see them as the rest of the world sees them. My parents get on my nerves, sure, so do everyone else's. And maybe my mother can be a little overdramatic at times and my dad tyrannical. But these things are minuscule, and have done nothing to really prevent me from growing up in a stable environment, from my understanding. I've turned out reasonably normal, and therefore my parents had done their job accurately. Yet can the same be said for all people, especially those who have grown up in situations that are precarious?

I recently begun the book A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, author of The Kite Runner, one of my favorite books. Mariam, the protagonist, lives with her mother on the outskirts of Herat, a city in Afghanistan. She was borne to a rich father, who lives in the heart of Herat and has three wives and nine other children. Her mother was poor, worked as a servant for her father's family, and Mariam only exists because of an accident, which her mother constantly reminds her of. She calls her harmani, meaning bastard, and pelts rocks at Mariam's half-brothers, who bring Mariam and her mother rice and sugar and flour every month as "penance" for what Jalil, Mariam's father, put Nana, Mariam's mother, through. He made her live far away, on the outskirts of his city, made her stay away from his true wives and children. He comes to visit Mariam every thursday, bearing gifts at times, and stories, yet is reluctant to tell her of his life in the city and the rich lives he experiences with his wives and sons. When Mariam escapes to the city, to attempt at spending time with her father, he acts as if he is not at home, and tells his servants to send her away, and Mariam refuses and eventually ends up sleeping on the street in front of her father's house. Her father lets her spend the night on the street in front of his house, and does not offer her lodging nor does her acknowledge her presence on the street. When Mariam goes back to her desolate house, sobbing, "Mariam saw. A gust of wind blew and parted  the drooping branches of the weeping willow like a curtain, and Mariam caught a glimpse of what was beneath the tree: The straight -backed chair, overturned. The rope dropping from a high branch. Nana hanging at the end of it."

This moment in the book is incredibly symbolic. Firstly, we see the defects that both Mariam's father and her mother possess, her mother possessing ones that are incredibly interesting, that will shape Mariam in the future and will probably flaw her deeply as well. Mariam's mother longs for Mariam's love and attention, and in turn loves her as well, yet masks this through hateful words for Mariam's father and a constant mention of Mariam's faults and what an awful child she is. Mariam's mother, Nana, hates herself for these spiteful words she throws at Mariam, for Mariam is the one person in the world who loves her. Mariam also despises her mother for being spiteful towards Jalil, Mariam's father, who Mariam loves desperately, and looks up to and models herself after. Mariam is so blinded by her love of Jalil that she does not see that his love for her is marred by his love for his ego, his image in the town of Herat. He will not allow Mariam to sleep under his roof, or give her shelter of any sort, and allows her to sleep on the street. Once Mariam sees that she truly is a burden to her father, she clearly sees that she is scum in her father's eyes, she now understands his flaws and, in a way, has grown up. When Mariam goes back to her home, she sees that her mother has committed suicide after Mariam chose to go see her father. Mariam here sees what her mother truly is; a mentally deranged woman who has been deeply traumatized in her past. Mariam grows here, too. It is my belief that when we see our parents for what they truly our, as the rest of the world sees them, we have grown up.

So whether growing up comes at the age of fifteen, as it did for Mariam, or when you're 50 and you finally realize that your mother has no friends for a reason, I believe that this is the juncture when we transition from child to adult.

Abandoned Souls

"All of our waste which we dumped on her and which she absorbed. And all of our beauty, which was hers first and which she gave to us. All of us-all who knew her-felt so wholesome after we cleaned ourselves on her. We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health...Even her waking dreams we used- to silence our own nightmares. And she let us, and thereby deserved our contempt. We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of our strength."
                                                -The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

To be cast off, from a group, from friends, from society, is a pain and burden so unbearable that only those who have an unmeasurable inner resilience can come away from such an experience unscarred. It hurts to be forgotten, or discarded, from a group of people, especially by those whom you loved. We've all probably been disposed of in such a manner by a group of people; whether it was in grade school, and you weren't allowed to play with a certain group of people because they had forbade it, or one of your friends decided that you were freakish and strange and went to go find another group of friends to hang out with. Perhaps it's simply a teacher who no longer wants to listen to your answers, and ignores you, and you are cast off there, as well.

My experience with being "cast off" involved one of my childhood best friends, who I've known since kindergarden. I was friends with her from the very beginning of my adolescence, since the first day of kindergarden, when we chose line partners and our hands met over another whimpering girl, who could not find a line partner. We both asked one another if we wanted to be partners, simultaneously, and I can still hear our laughter as we interrupted one another, excitedly talking. That was the true initiation of our friendship; it continued all throughout elementary school. She was my best friend, or one of them, at least. She was hilarious, and we were always laughing, or abusing her pets and making her dog and cat fight each other. We began to grow apart when I was about 10 or 11. I can't really discern who cast who off, who forgot the other and went on to find other friends. At first, I wanted to blame her for the destruction of our friendship, for casting me off and forgetting about me to go find other friends. This is usually not the case, however. I feel guilt for shutting her out, for neglecting our friendship and failing to salvage it. But in this situation, it doesn't matter who cast who off, for it injured and marred us in our own separate ways.

This same cast-off role is apparent in Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye. The story is told from the point of view of a girl named Claudia, yet Claudia is a mere observer. It is my opinion that the true protagonist is a girl named Pecola, for the story is centered around her. Pecola is a girl living in a predominantly black neighborhood; northern slums where racism is prevalent. She is beaten by her mother, and constantly watches her mother and father engage in horrid assaults of one another. Pecola is constantly referred to as "ugly" and "odd" by the members of her neighborhood, her family receiving these labels as well. When she is around 12 years of age, Pecola is raped and impregnated by her father, and becomes even more of a social pariah than she previously was. Although her baby dies, the imprint of what was done to her remains, and people cast Pecola off and use her as their punching bag, their source of happiness and reassurance, for when they see Pecola in all her grime and filth, they see themselves as being better, as being more substantial people. When they see what has been done to Pecola by her father, they look at themselves as being virtuous and pure. Pecola stifles the insecurities of people in her neighborhood, and makes them feel secure in their own bodies, for she herself is a monstrosity. It is my belief that all of us who are cast out in one way or another act as a suppressor of personal vulnerabilities for those who cast us out. When those who cast us off look at us, they see all of their greatness compared to all of our flaws, and all of the difficulties we have suffered, and how much better their lives have been in comparison to this. We act as a constant reminder of the guilt they feel for casting us off, yet also as a washcloth or rag that they may clean themselves with, so that they may shine in our gloominess.

The Figurative Egg

I believe that all of us, at one point or another in our lives, have attempted at covering our insecurities and vulnerabilities from others, so as that others cannot find that fragility within you and use it as a weapon, to maim and wound your feelings. I am an extremely sensitive person, and have been all my life. It is a topic I avoid at all costs; I deny it to anyone who seems to have discovered this defect. When I was very young, it was something I dealt with through tears and complaining. Over the years, this sensitivity has shrunk into a small, hardened ball inside of me, only to come out and arise when I am unable to swallow it, to control it. Dark humor and laughing at myself is what gets me by, and it has taken years and years of practice at containing my feelings, and redirecting them into work, or humor.

Whilst reading "Am I Blue?"by Bruce Coville, I thought about what I hide, what I cover up from others, and how much I can relate to Butch Carrigan, and the republican Congressman, who are both covering up their sexualities. I myself am not covering up my sexuality, or covering my sensitivity through violence or insufferable words. But I can definitely relate.

And while thinking about how relatable these characters happen to be, I also began to think about  society and the way people view and react to people's sexualities. Do people who are exploring their sexualities always get treated in the way that Vincent is treated in this short story? Are people who are possibly gay always greeted with the same daily fear of being bullied at school, taunted for being different? I pondered this as I sat reading the story, wondering if people do indeed suffer this torture every single day of their middle school and high school lives. After I had mulled over the troubles that Butch Carrigan inflicts upon Vincent, perhaps I am not all that much like him. In the opening paragraphs of "Am I blue?", we are greeted with an image of Vincent being kicked around in the mud by his nemesis, the bully that has scarred him both emotionally and physically for many years, simply because Vincent may or may not be gay. Vincent is then introduced to his "fairy godfather" who is willing to grant Vincent three wishes. Vincent is then given the power to see whether or not people are gay, or what degree their homosexuality is by the amount of blue their skin is pigmented with. Over the course of the story, Vincent learns that about 1 in every 10 people is a dark, vivid blue, and about 1 in every 4 people is at least tinted blue. Vincent also discovers that a Republic Congressman, who is famed for being a homophobe, is also a very bright shade of blue, and Vincent's bully Butch Carrigan, is "...blue as a summer sky..." When reading, I came to the realization that many people hide their sexuality through supposed hatred of gay people, or by saying foul things towards homosexuals to cover up what they are too frightened to admit. I myself do cover up my sensitivity with humor, and try as much as possible to be indifferent towards people, and, at times, I can be harsh towards others. I loathe myself for this. And while I interpreted this semi-hatred for myself for being abrasive and unfeeling towards others, I truly discovered how I relate to these characters, for they, too, feel a certain amount of animosity towards themselves.

It is much the case with the Republican Congressman; he covers his sexuality through hateful words and slogans that condone hatred towards gays. By doing so, this Republican Congressman defers attention away from what his sexuality is, and makes people focus on how much he supposedly hates homosexuals. In a way, he probably does hate people who are openly gay, for they had the strength to do what he couldn't ever muster the courage to do; to come out of the closet. This republican Congressman has to live behind a mask of his own insecurities his whole life, for he never had the strength to be honest with himself and others. It is much the same for Butch Carrigan, the bully that has tormented Vincent for so many years. Butch uses violence and foul words to exploit his supposed heterosexuality, when in reality must also feel a certain hatred for himself for never being honest, and for bullying Vincent when Vincent was one person in their school he could probably relate the most to. People who are homosexual and afraid to admit it, or simply people in general who are afraid of being honest about something for fear of being bullied or unaccepted will go to many lengths to protect themselves, and will form a hard shell of detestable words said towards gays, or rumored hatred towards gays so as that people are not able to penetrate their hard shell and hurt what lies underneath. I have a hard shell, and I have soft feelings that lay underneath that are fragile. In a way, I am much like an egg. I am fragile; which is attributable to my sensitive feelings, and although I do not cover this sensitivity through brutality, I am still composed of the same material as Butch Carrigan, and the Republican Congressman. 

Shields; Physical and Metaphorical

The Battle of Shiloh
April 6-7, 1862

In the short story entitled "The Drummer Boy of Shiloh" by Ray Bradbury, the protagonist Joby goes through a fast yet subtle change. He goes from being frightened of the battle that lay ahead to confident and sure of himself. This change occurs so rapidly it's hard for us, the readers, to depict where exactly in the text it happens. What I believe is the true change in Joby is not when he agrees to fulfill his duties as drummer boy, it is when the General speaks to Joby of how the drummer boy acts as the heart of the army. I believe this is when the General builds up Joby's personal "shield" so that he is prepared to go into battle. When Joby agrees to act as a drummer boy, rather than cry for his troubles, it finalizes the construction of Joby's shield, and the change is therefore final.

In the opening paragraphs of the story, Joby describes the soldiers as all having "shields"cast around themselves, to protect their hope and courage from the depressing tendrils of the battle and what deaths will soon come when the battle takes place. Joby envisions the soldiers' shields as being compounded of the soldiers' "...family devotion, flag-blown patriotism, and cocksure immortality..." This is what protects them, what pushes them onward into the fiery havoc of battle, and what will give them hope and strength in their hours of need. Joby is not blessed with such a shield to protect him from the upcoming battle, the battle that leers at him and awaits for the sound of his drum and the march of soldiers. Joby only has "...a drum two sticks to beat it with, and no shield." This makes Joby vulnerable, unprotected, a target for the opposing side. This, it seems to me, is what seals Joby's fate at the beginning of the story, what seals the fate of the other soldiers, of the whole army, for they depend on Joby to motivate them, as he is the drummer boy. When Joby is unprotected, vulnerable in such a way that he is, it means the army is vulnerable as well, and their shield begins to deteriorate.

In the long run, Joby is also a part of the army's collective shield, their shield as a whole. Joby provides motivation as the army enters the bloody battle that surely lies ahead. If Joby is not there to provide the motivation they thirst for, the army will not function properly, and the collective shield of all the soldiers will begin to break down. The army will not be able to carry on with battle without feeling the stabs of pain and fear that almost certain death can bring. With Joby's shield nonexistent, or, at least, not functioning properly, the army does not function properly, for Joby is the heart of the army, he is the drummer boy. How can one have a shield themselves when a crucial part of your shield has deteriorated, when your shield has no shield of its own, as Joby does not have a shield?

The General arrives, and sees what a dire situation his army is in. He sees the vulnerability that Joby is to the army, and yet also realizes that Joby is a vital part of the army, a crucial aspect that he cannot cast off. The General takes it upon himself to build up Joby's shield, to make Joby confident and hopeful for what lies ahead. Before the General casts this shield over Joby, Joby is raw, unprotected, yet he is such an asset to the army's well-being and self-assurance, that the General sees it necessary to console Joby, and build up his self-esteem. Afterwards, Joby is new, shielded, and the army will therefore be stronger and prepared to fight the following day.

When viewing such a situation, one can connect it to real life and the shields that one casts to protect themselves against certain things, whether good or bad. In what ways do you act as a shield for others? How do your personal shields affect others if they are built up of deteriorating? Perhaps these "shields" we cast in every day life take more of a toll on others than we realize. If someone extremely close to you is breaking down emotionally and their shield begins to break down with them, the so-called shield that you cast will break down as well. Our brains by themselves cast out a protective layer so as that we are not constantly going through emotional trauma, so we don't get hurt. Do we continuously wear shields as protection, and when we get emotionally scarred is the only time they come down? This is my belief, and although Joby was not necessarily "scarred" emotionally before his shield was rebuilt by the General, the fear and hatred of the upcoming battle surely broke it down enough for Joby to feel the cold fingers of reality.

These Common Themes

Go Tell it On the Mountain
by James Baldwin

Although my previous blogpost was about abusive father-son relationships, I have encountered yet another book with the same relationship embedded into the story. The father-son relationship in Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin is not a relationship that involves abuse to alcohol and excessive drinking, rather it deals with opprobrious preacher who expects the very best of his family, who beats his two sons and has no respect for his wife. The protagonist, John, talks of this sin he is constantly committing, yet I cannot tell what this sin is since he gives no mention of it in the story other than to say that he is committing it. Is it disobedience to his father, since his father is such a strict authoritative figure. His father, being a preacher, is of the belief that anyone who does not attend church and does not have faith in Jesus is doomed for eternity. As maturity and age afflict John, the realization of how much he loathes his father and all the hatred he has stored up for him over the years also is brought upon him.

John feels such abhorrence towards his father since his father has been abusive their whole lives; this cold, menacing embodiment of what John envisions as Satan. Since John loathes his father to such a degree, and since John's father is a preacher, John therefore associates the Church with his father and his heart hardens to the idea of Church, becoming a preacher, and following in his father's footsteps. The thought of such things repels him, almost makes him nauseous, for when people associate people that we dislike with certain things, such as church in this case, we are immediately revolted by those things as well.

Since I previously spoke about father-son relationships in my blogpost preceding this one, I ams becoming more familiar with them. What is it about these relationships that compels writers to write about them so frequently? I believe that father figures, or strong male figures, make a colossal impression on boys, especially when they're at a young age. This relationship is one I can only guess at, since there was such a vast number of female figures in my life to model myself after or to be repelled by, I can hardly keep count. But something about the male to male relationship seems all the more significant, seems to shape the lives of young men so much more than females and young women. Boys will love their mothers, yes, but it is their fathers they want to develop into, their fathers they want to model themselves after. Which is why I think having a weak father figure, or a male figure you despise, has all the more affect on who you are as a person and your likes and dislikes, such as John and his animosity towards the Church.

An Ambiguous Love

Angela's Ashes
by Frank McCourt

Over the summer, I reread one of my all-time favorites; Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt. To say I have read this book too often is quite an understatement. For a small period of time, I was completely infatuated with it; the book itself, the characters within it, and the research that relates to it. This summer I decided to have my semi-annual re-read of the book, partially just so I could venture into Frank McCourt's childhood once more, and also in search of some deeper meaning that lay within the book that I may have not previously uncovered. The memoir essentially highlights the events that took place in Frank McCourt's childhood, from ages approximately 3 to 19. The McCourts originally live in Brooklyn, their family consisting of Frank, the eldest, Malachy, who is a year younger, and their mother and father. The McCourts are impoverished and live in a constant state of need for most of Frank's childhood and young adult life. This is mostly due to their drunken father, who is rarely employed and drinks the wages and dole money when he is. The McCourt family moves back to Ireland after the death of Margaret, the only daughter borne to Angela Sheenan. The death of the beautiful baby Margaret caused even more woes and sorrow to seep into the McCourt family, and after the deaths of the two twins Oliver and Eugene, also borne to Angela, yet in Ireland, the family sunk into a deeper heartache.

One of the many aspects of Frank's life that he struggles to come to terms with over his adolescent years  is his father, and how to act towards him. One part of his father is loving and knowledgable, a part that tells stories of Irish legends and cares for his sons. The part that guides them in their studies, drinks tea, and encourages Frank to take dancing lessons just for his mother's sake, even though Frank dreads them. This is the sober part of Frank McCourt's father, the part that talks and laughs with their mother, and the raging drunken fights that the two of them have do not prevail upon the house as they so often do at nighttime. When Frank's father is drunk, he wakes the boys out of their damp, freezing slumber and makes them stand, and promise to die for Ireland. Yet, Frank's father is never aggressive, never uses physical violence as a way of demonstrating his power in the household. He is always loving, kind, and patient with his boys. But even as I sit here writing how he was a good father, despite his drunken ways, I feel as if I'm lying to you, the readers. Malachy McCourt Senior never kept a job for more then 3 weeks, and drank all the wages that were supposed to help support the family, to help them survive. For the first 20 or so years of Frank McCourt's life, he scraped up what food him and his family could muster, and suffered through cold winters without much clothing. Is this loving your family? Malachy McCourt Senior leaves the family in Limerick, Ireland so as that he can go to England and try and find work there, to help with the war effort. There, too, Frank McCourt's father drank all the money that came to his hands. He left his family alone to suffer the hardships of poverty in Ireland. So how does one come to terms with such a father, and the life he put them through, enough to write a memoir about all the misfortunes and afflictions that came upon you, mostly due to him? Yet you know, deep down inside you, that you love him with all your heart? To have dealt with something such as this would be more than I could ever bear, and maybe Frank McCourt never did indeed come to terms with his father's ways and the trauma he put their family through. Maybe he still feels bitter, remorseful at the tattered remains of what could have been a loving family.