Which essay will it be

I wasnt very surprised when Cynthia chose my essay on guns as her favorite.  After all, it was the one that I spent the most time on.  These assigned writings really make me feel for journalists and columnists.  I finally decided to throw out my essay about the bird hunting outing after much muddling.  The essay I decided on is a story that is much more profound and also much more pertinent.  If I had the talent and the inclination I could write a novel about these two characters.  The contrast is delicious.

They both seem to embody their generational conflict.  Hugh grew up in the depression, fought World War II, worked a twenty year career for a company and then retired.  Clark was kicked out of several private schools, graduated from Michigan with an engineering degree in the 60’s,  spent seveal years drifting then went to work for an oil company.  Clark owned fancy cars and traveled the world.  Hugh payed for his daughters to go to nursing school.  Clark loved to spend money on expensive things: name brand clothes, Monte Blanc pens, Tumi luggage.  Hugh would haggle with a road size salesman over a penny on the price of boiled peanuts then peel off a one hundred dollar bill  from a wad in his pocket.

to be continued…

I kinda like writing these essays.  The deadlines are probably the only thing that will ever get me to put any of this on paper.  My wife has told me numerous times that I should write down my stories but I just havent ever taken the time.  This gives me the chance.

Today in class

My Gun is bigger than yours’

My gun is bigger than yours

Clark wasnt a particularly large man. He stood about five feet eight inches and weighed around one hundred fifty pounds. Thinking back now he seemed to wear his mustache in order to look more like Charles Bronson. I remember the story of how as a young man he crashed his car through the front of someones house over a fight. The man that we were told of in the stories was never the man we saw. Bookish and nerdery were more appropriate descripitons of the would be tough guy. He spent his time mostly at his computer, drunk, or playing with his guns. The latter two seemed to go hand in hand.

Hugh had a full head of white hair that I cannot remember ever being any other color. He wore the same light blue suit five days a week. He wore a uniform of some sort all of his life I guess. As a young man it was the white bell bottoms of a sailor, then in 1946 he traded that one in for the navy blues of a beat cop, and finally the baby blue suit that matched the crysler sedan he drove while on company time. He seemed content not to talk at all except for when prodded by his wife to tell a dirty joke or to tease a young child. Like many of his generation he didnt need to brag to show his toughness:hell, he defeated Hirohito. Not until my brother Ryan enlisted in the navy did we learn that he was on ship at many famous battles in the Pacific.

Guns meant pistols to Clark who didnt own a rifle. I remember he even had a pistol with a scope mounted on top of it. Like a child collecting all of his favorite action figures he had all of the action stars chosen weapons. The Walther PPK was the perfect accessory for an evening at the opera. The .454 magnum hung perfectly in the shoulder holseter for those occasoions when grizzly bear might happen by but his favorite was the .357 magnum revolver. Even at breakfast you could see the crome relfection in his eyes. Time stood still for him when he was loading, unloading and twirling his wonderful toys.

I dont recall much gun talk from my Grandfather. He had a double barrel shotgun that was fairly easy to find but even to this day Ive never seen a shotgun shell in his home. The only gun that I really associate with Hugh is his .38 snubnose revolver. It remindes me of the little cap guns that you can find in the pharmacy’s toy isle. No self respecting action hero would carry such a tiny little gun. I never actually saw the entire gun. The only glimpses we ever got of it were when he would reach into his back pocket for his wallet and then you would get a flash of his P.I. Badge and his pistol. It was always stifled by the brown leather hoslter that seemed permanantly attached.

The shiney glint of chrome steel paled when compared to Clarks love of Russian Water. When his passion was in bloom he could consume as much as two fifths in a day. His cheeks would flare and his speech would slide and if these telltale signs were not obvious enough, the guns would always rat him out. Perhaps through jealosy the pistols jockeyed for their masters attention ever eager to go the extra mile in order to please. The .22 had that clever little barrel that mad it part breech loader and part automatic. Like a cobra kit car the Taurus 9mm looked and felt just like the Italian Beretta 92FS. The .38 revolver with the 4inch barrel was perfect for twirlling but there was just something insatiable about sliding those hollow point .357 magnum bullets one by one into the cylinder of a perectly balance Smith & Wesson. Even my mother could not compete for his attention when that weapon was in his eyes. She used all of her southern charm to entice him to stop fooling around with those dangerous things and when that didn’t work she would nag. It was during one of her attempts to persuade him to put aside his true love and come watch some TV with her that he got angry and pointed the gun at her, saying “Go away or Ill kill you”. Furious, she did what any southern lady would do in her situation. She called her daddy.

When Hugh arrived my mother met him at the door. She pleaded “Daddy, I just want him to put those damn guns away.” Hugh replied “Now Linda, you know, you could call the police.”.

“I dont even want momma to know”. To that his response was simply a long serious stare that ended in my mother looking away as if she had stared too long into bright light. Now that the course was set Hugh only needed the facts. “Where is he”. “Are the guns loaded”…. “Upstairs” “Yes” Like any other sixty year old man he held onto the railing to start the stairs.

At the top of the stairs was the doorway to Clarks office where he sat slouching in his office chair with stretched out while he slowly rocked side to side. “Hey there, Hugh, what brings you here?” “Clark, I wanted to talk to you” Clark made a fifteen degree turn towoard Hughs direction “Oh, yea, whatcha wanna talk about.” Hugh sits down on the edge of the desk “First why dont you put that gun away” Clark shrugs “This, dont worry, its harmless.” Hugh leans forward “Well, thats what I wanted to talk to you about.” “Yea?” “Yea” Clark sits up a little “What did you want to say” Hugh leans slightly back “Clark will you put that gun away.” “What if I dont” Hugh flips the edge of his coat back reaches around the back of his waist and slides his revolver around to situate it so that now its right below where the pockets of a casual jacket would be. “Either you put your gun away or Ill take mine out”.

There was a time when I thought that my gradfathers way of talking was odd. He seemed to alomost hold his breath and talk at the same time. It was as if he was strained to get the words out. As young boys we even made fun of his voice sometimes. Now in my mind just thinking of his voice I cant help but think my grandad sounds just like Clint Eastwood.

I shouldn’t have done that Part II

I have learned many lessons from my dad in my lifetime.  I learned the importance of hard work, the value of marriage and even the burden of responsibility.  Unlike the idyllic style we see on television sit-coms were the wise parent cleverly guides the child or sometimes even directly instructs them, many of my lessons were learned the hard way.

I remember the many Saturdays spent with my brothers and my father.  Like many families in the ’80’s  my parents were divorced.  The three of us lived with my mother.

ENGL 0099 In class timed essay

Last week we wrote our first in class essay.  Now that it is over I feel a little silly for taking it so seriously.  I still giggle at how much more I care about my success in school now as opposed to when I was in high school.  The essay process was pretty simple.

On monday we were given four potential essay topics.  It was really three topics since we used one as an example in class of how to write a word outline.  Our instructions were to write three outlines with one sentance per outline.  The sentence being the thesis for our essay. I worked on the outlines a little but tried to avoid too much thinking on them as I wanted to be prepared to write an essay as extemporaneously as possible.  The topics were “Would you rather live in the country or city.” , “Write about an unusual person that you have known” and “What is the nt sport in an area”.

I started out intending to write about the country city thing but my ideas were to vague on that one so I settled on the sports topic.  Im tempted to write one one the unusual person simply because it was the one that I found to be the most challenging. The funny thing is that I have know many unusual people.  I just didnt seem to have a clear idea as where to start on the unusual person topic.

Actually, I didnt seem to have a clear idea of where to start with the sports topic either.  My outline was very broad and my thesis very vague.  “College football is king in the south”.  Starting there I made some supporting paragraphs.  From there I was going to write about family gatherings and youth sports and so on.  Then I thought of how people even wear there college football spirit.  Looking at it from an outside perspective it seemed a little odd that hats, hoodies and jumsuits would be such a large part of a culture.  So, i scraped my original thesis and went with “In the South sports fans wear their spirit on their sleeves.”  This seemed more interesting than some blather about how young boys learn valuable lessons from sports.

Im still a little anxious about being able to write a quality essay under pressure but at least I know that I can produce something that is an actual essay.

I shoudnt have done that

I remember as a young boy going hunting with my father. He would carry a twelve gauge shotgun.  My older brother would carry the single shot four ten shotgun and I and my younger brother would carry BB guns.

On one particular hunt I remember that we were hunting quail and quite poorly I might add.  After most of the morning and the start of the afternoon, we had failed to scare up any quail, when my fathers ever-present impatience surfaced.  Our day of hunting digressed into a day of shooting.

My father was explaining how to shoot a bird on the wing.  He was saying something about using a sweeping arc and continuing the motion beyond the shot when all of the sudden he said very matter of factly “right there. Like this.”  He moved with feline like fluid action as he raised the shotgun to his shoulder and began a sweeping motion as if he were throwing the shotgun over his shoulder.  Without breaking the sweeping motion the shotgun rang out as thunder without lightning.  He paused for a moment, then with sad regret said ” I shouldnt have done that”.

I never saw the prey except for the empty space suroounded by floating feathers but my brother tells me it was a blue bird.

Group Presentations

Today in my english comp class we did a performance presentation.  This is the second time Ive been in one of these.   I feel better about my contribution this time. I think that I learned something from the first one and then again from the second.  We did OK at using our groups talents but I think that my ability to take charge and direct the action of the group led them to have me play a role that would have been better given to someone else.

I either need to get better at taking on roles that others expect someone like me to be good at or better at convincing them to delegate those roles to others.  The latter will probably be more productive and also better for those people who may not be as assertive but have talents that could be overlooked.

Perhaps once we had decided on our thesis and a general idea for the skit I should have pushed the group to be more active in the creative process.  Being less vocal at this point may help to prevent my confidence from taking a root as final and squelching the more creative members of the group.  I am more of an architect than an artist. This kind of framework could work well to showcase the more expressive talents of my teammates.

I felt good about our performance.  Despite the time constraints, we were able to produce a concise thesis and a skit that illustrated the thesis rather than explaining it.  I think that the story being told by Evie could have been more in line with the thesis and that the my character could have been more expressive.  Maybe even bring the other adults into the story by having them quiz the boy and then the father reminiscing on the story of the gun and the tradition of crossing from boyhood into to manhood.

A boy finds that his imagination isn’t all in his head

The Francophone Film Festival, hosted by the Department of Foreign Languages at Kennesaw State University held a showing of Un Secret (A Secret) Wednesday, February 9 at 7:00PM. I had been comtemplating the advertisements around campus for a while but when my English professor offered special credit for writing a review; I was sold. I was fortunate to run into a fellow classmate at the viewing, so I didn’t have to sit alone.

Upon entering the viewing room I found myself unintentionally ignoring a french speaking gentleman who I later realized to be the host of the evening, due to being preoccupied by the projection screen that was playing the never ending loop of clips found on the menu screen of DVD’s. I started to take a seat down front when I heard the Aussie twang of my classmate hail me from behind. I turned and saw David sitting in the back row. From the back row I could see the entire spectacle. The lecture hall was in the style of a theater with several rows of chairs in the galley and and about five rows of raised stadium seating in a half moon nestled along the back of the room. All but five of the nearly fifty people sat in the raised seating. People, all bundled up due to the freezing weather, were bustling about and chatting with one another. Some had out note pads and pens to take notes and some seems just ready to enjoy an evening at the movies.

The film was complex story of a Jewish family living in post World War II France that explored the effect of secrets on from many angles. Starting in the 1950’s and moving back and forth from the 1930;s to the present and back. Francois is a bookish and sickly child who imagines a shadow brother who is great at everything that Francois is not. Maxime and Tania are Fancois’s athletic parents. Francois knows nothing of his parents past and imagines it in an idyllic way but begins to discover some of the secrets of his families past under the Nazi occupation of France. Maxime was married before to Hanna, Tania’s sister, and they had a son, Simon. At fifteen, a fight at school triggers Francois’s discovery of a family secret. Louise, a family friend, and Francois’s physical therapist tells him the story of his family during the war and their harrowing escape from Occupied France.

I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. Throughout the film the most difficult subjects are shown with a sort of subtlety while handling the most volatile of subjects. Maximes wandering eye causes all pain but there are no moments of truth. The entire family suffers under the German Occupation but we see almost no presence of actual Nazi’s or even paraphernalia that is so conspicuous in other films set in the period. The story is about secrets and the people who keep them and the director stays true to this. Maxime is an almost entirely selfish character who never seems to feel sorry for the pain he causes others. Hanna seems lost in a world flipped upside down on her. Tania is almost cursed by her beauty. She is pursued by Maxime and hated by Ester even though she refuses Maxime’s advances. When she finally succumbs it is as if fate had cornered her.

The use of imagery in this film was remarkable. The opening scene is of Francois at age seven looking into a mirror as he slowly approaches. Francois’s shadow brother reminded me of Peter Pans shadow the way he danced about and preformed his wonderful feats of physical prowess. The use of color vs black and white was an interesting twist. In this film the past is in color and the present is in black and white. Francois’s idyllic fantasy of his family is bright with vivid colors. The story of Maxime and Tania is in color in the past and the present is black and white. The filming gave me a sense of voyeurism with the angles. The audience watches from down the hall or in the corner across the way as if we were catching the characters in their secrets. Even in the presentwe see Francois in his office form outside as we look in through a window.

When the mysteries are revealed, Francois discovers the answers to why he feels so disconnected to his father. He fills the voids between them with the revealations from Louise and later his own searching. In the end Maxime finally shows the wear from the burden of carrying his secrets.

This book for teenagers is actually teaching me something

Upon reading my course syllabus for KSU 1101 I must admit that having to read The 7 Habits of Highly effective teens drew a chuckle but I have found it to be one of the bright spots in my first semester at college. Its an excellent time to reflect on the big questions at the beginning of my journey through the university. Always a slave to my habits, I had to go out and buy a copy of the original book by Stephen. Then I bought a book on speed reading and study habits and then Ben Franklins autobiography because both authors reference it. So, off we go unraveling the mysteries of paradigms, actions and the way we think about the world and its challenges. Starting with paradigms, I must say that Covey is right; Emerson says it best when he says “What you are screams so loudly that I cant hear what you say”. The most interesting thing to me about the paradigm discussion is that even though I am the sort of person who is fairly rooted in my perspective on the world, until now I wouldn’t be able to articulate it so well. Before I began reading this book ,If you were to ask me, “Whats your paradigm, Jason? Explain to me how you view the world.” I may have eventually been able to paint you a picture but only after a lot of ums, buts and I meant to says. I still need some work to be able to make a two minute presentation, but my perspective Is much more clear than it was in December. At least now I can name a list of principles that I want to guide me in my pursuit of life. Principles like diligence, temperance, charity, and love. Now I just need to put a name on that pursuit. Covey is big on being proactive. This is something that Ive been on board with for a while now. In my opinion the only way to accomplish anything of value is through proactive action. Even if you do something of worth by reaction, most likely you weren’t the actual actor In the first place. Like the employee who doesn’t know best how to utilize his own talents you are simply a tool of someone elses proactive plan. The interconnected nature of ruling priciples is in effect here as well. It takes diligence and prudence to be consistently proactive. The next habit is “Think win win”. This is also one that I subscribe to. It just seems natural that whether in business, family or social life we want others to win with us. This makes me think of the principle that exchange creates wealth. When two people freely trade between one another then both sides win. If I give you a dollar and you give me a coke and neither of us is deceptive or coercive then we both win. I wanted the coke more than the dollar and you wanted the dollar more than the coke. This concept works throughout our lives whether it be in business, family or social life. If I were to view my marriage as a win lose proposition then how productive would that be? Would a loving father view this role as win lose. How terrible would that be? No, win win is the way to go. When covey talks about our power tool box of self-awareness, conscience and imagination I can see the value of a win win perspective. All three are necessary to make the needed decisions and take the right actions to pursue a win win solution to whatever life may throw our way. I had an interesting epiphany about imagination and its importance. In a conversation about my son I was laughing about the broad imagination of a three year old boy when a set of dots suddenly connected in my head. Imagination is a necessary tool to effectiveness. My inspiration was Albert Einstein of all people. Einstein is one of the icons of science but it was imagination that made his greatness possible. I remember reading about how he was inspired to study light and relativity as a young boy on a train ride. Travelling down the tracks he saw a lightning bolt strike between two trees and wondered if the light got to the train travelling toward the lightning faster that the tree sitting still. This was the genesis of all of the great innovation and progress made due to the theory of relativity. The imagination of a teenage boy. I should like to apply my imagination with as much industry as Mr. Einstein.

So Far So Good

Its week six already and I think I may be getting the hang of this college thing. My schedule is still hard but Ive  gotten used to it and hopefully some of my responsibilities will drop soon.  My week has taken on  a rythme now.  Sunday is my day off.  I can relax and spend time with Gretel and Ollie.  Monday is my most productive day.  Since I dont have to leave campus I can go to my 8:00 and 9:30 class then take the break from 10:30 – 2:00 to eat and study.  Ive found a little hideaway in the commons building upstairs.  There is an outlet and a table so I can spread out and use my laptop.  More importantly its in  a quiete room and I am essentially alone.  I am way too chatty to be studying around people I know.  Especially ones that I find interesting.   Between my 2: 00 Math and 5:00 Freshmen Seminar I do math homework, read and make sure that Im ready for my 5:00.  After my 5:00 I go to the library and either read or work on an essay for English.

Tuesday I do household stuff like making breakfast, doing my part for the cleaning and spending time with Ollie.

Wednsday is basically the same as Monday unless I have to take Ben to work then I have to cut my midday study session short and hoof it out to Marietta and ferry Ben to work over on Barret Parkway.

Thursday is a little like Tuesday except I have to take Brian and Ben to work at 11:00 and 3:00 respectively.  All that driving is so time consuming.  I need to set a deadline for these guys to get to no longer rely on me.

Friday is like Thursday except we usually order out for Chinese.

Saturday is great.  Gretel lets me sleep in.  After all of those early rises and late nights picking up these guys until 11:30, I need the rest.  Then we take Brian to work and Gretel and Ollie and I go to lunch together.