I have to confess something. I bawled my eyes out with this story! The Prologue was what got me started. The feeling of loneliness and anger was so tangible that I felt and sympathized with every word. It was a relief though when he snuck in little hints of humor to lighten the mood. Like his comment about Poe when he referred to Poe’s mental health, how he was screwing the power company and how he was a ‘tinker thinker’.
For the most part, I could identify with this character on such a basic level during the Prologue that it was uncanny. It was like looking in a timeless mirror and seeing my own circumstances laid out in front of me, “You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world…I did not come alive until I discovered my invisibility.” The worth of one’s self comes from one’s self. But at what cost does it take to realize this?
Then, when the story actually started, I was taken in a different direction. To circumstances that I can not even put into perspective. To think that that kind of stuff really happed is just so unreal to me! How could anyone treat another human being in this way? To laugh and enjoy the pain and humility of another person is so inhumane.
I felt so bad for this character when all he could think about was going ahead and giving his speech he had prepared, even after what those men had done to him. I understand the time period, but even then, if it was me, I would have had a few not lady like words to say to them and possibly a few hand jesters to go along with them!
It wasn’t only the White people that did injustice to this young man. His own Grandfather did harm to him also! He did harm to the whole family for that matter! How dare he say the things he did on his death bed? Talk about laying a guilt trip! How could this boy go throughout life from then on without self hate. He was bound to be messed up when no matter what he did was wrong in someone’s eyes. “And whenever things went well for me I remember my grandfather and felt guilty and uncomfortable.” This character had no chance, and it was a shame. He got it from both directions just because of his skin color. There was one good thing though, his tenacity. I don’t think I could have been so tenacious.
I’m not sure how this story ends, but I hope Ellison lets this character have something good happen in his life, he deserves it. I am definitely going to have to get the full story and find out!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Robert Hayden 'Those Winter Sundays' pg 2264
I was struck with a sadness when I read Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays”. Though it was one of the shorter poems we have read this semester, it was one of the more saddening ones. One that talked of regret, mixed with admiration and the missed opportunity to show and teach love.
The father was clearly a very hard working man that showed his love by deeds; making sure the house was warm in the winter, and even polishing his son’s shoes. However, by working so hard, he missed the opportunity to teach his son how to love. Actions speak louder than words, including the actions of giving a hug, or just spending time with a person.
I felt the father lacked in expressing this kind of love and in doing so, his son did not learn what love is about and how to express it, as he says so himself at the end of the poem, “What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”. This is very sad as children grow up so fast and learn what they see. Love should never be lonely nor should it be a job to express it.
But the responsibility does not only lay with the father. The son also has missed opportunities to acknowledge what the father does, not out of duty, but out of love. Maybe this was how the father was taught to love, in turn, teaching the son these very things. However, the son could have gotten up to help split wood, or taken time to polish his father’s shoes for once, as his own gestures of love and appreciation.
As it seems, these opportunities have passed and the time to say ‘thank you’ is gone. It sounds as if the father has passed away and now the son is reflecting on these missed opportunities. Reflecting upon the indifference that he had toward his father and the anger that was in the house. I think that maybe he was wishing that things would have been different, that he should have said thank you and acknowledged what his father had done for him. To simply tell his father that he loved him. Something that he did not know how to do as a child.
This poem has almost a pleading tone in the son’s voice as if to say that he was sorry for not appreciating his father when it would have counted to do so. It is sad to think that these memories, memories that he clearly cherished, that he held of his father were mixed with one’s of regret.
As I have learned the hard way, living with regret is no way to live. One shouldn’t wait until it is too late to acknowledge something before they say or act to change it. It’s sad that this son has done this very thing. Because of this, maybe the son has learned how to finally love and appreciate. Unfortunately it is the hard way to learn.
The father was clearly a very hard working man that showed his love by deeds; making sure the house was warm in the winter, and even polishing his son’s shoes. However, by working so hard, he missed the opportunity to teach his son how to love. Actions speak louder than words, including the actions of giving a hug, or just spending time with a person.
I felt the father lacked in expressing this kind of love and in doing so, his son did not learn what love is about and how to express it, as he says so himself at the end of the poem, “What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”. This is very sad as children grow up so fast and learn what they see. Love should never be lonely nor should it be a job to express it.
But the responsibility does not only lay with the father. The son also has missed opportunities to acknowledge what the father does, not out of duty, but out of love. Maybe this was how the father was taught to love, in turn, teaching the son these very things. However, the son could have gotten up to help split wood, or taken time to polish his father’s shoes for once, as his own gestures of love and appreciation.
As it seems, these opportunities have passed and the time to say ‘thank you’ is gone. It sounds as if the father has passed away and now the son is reflecting on these missed opportunities. Reflecting upon the indifference that he had toward his father and the anger that was in the house. I think that maybe he was wishing that things would have been different, that he should have said thank you and acknowledged what his father had done for him. To simply tell his father that he loved him. Something that he did not know how to do as a child.
This poem has almost a pleading tone in the son’s voice as if to say that he was sorry for not appreciating his father when it would have counted to do so. It is sad to think that these memories, memories that he clearly cherished, that he held of his father were mixed with one’s of regret.
As I have learned the hard way, living with regret is no way to live. One shouldn’t wait until it is too late to acknowledge something before they say or act to change it. It’s sad that this son has done this very thing. Because of this, maybe the son has learned how to finally love and appreciate. Unfortunately it is the hard way to learn.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Essay #2 Pitch
I have chosen to go with pitch #3, Text and Context, for my final essay. I will attempt to write a chapter on Imagism in a really hip textbook. I do not own a corduroy jacket, but hopefully it will turn out just as well. I shall keep my fingers crossed.
I chose Imagism because I think it was a very important step forward in all literary work since its conception. Though this movement was short lived, it held a lasting impact on future writers and poets.
With imagism, there is no confusion on what you are reading, the images are clear. This is apposed to the earlier eras where the words were complicated and sometimes felt disjointed from the image. This is if you could even find an image from having to stop and decipher all the words.
Imagism is the ‘the bare bones and punk rock of poetry’. (Scott Weaver) With imagism, you have the image of what is being said as soon as you read it. It may not make since at first, but the image is clear. Then, when reread and pondered upon what you have read, you get this ‘ah ha’ moment and the image suddenly expands.
This is important, for me at least, because you are not lost in the words, but the image itself, thus allowing a reader to go back and analyze their own interpretation. For me, when I read something, I try to imagine what I am reading while I am reading it. I try to ‘see’ and understand at that precise moment of what is being said. Then, when I ponder on that image I have in my head, suddenly this one image explodes into many.
Ezra Pound and his ’cohorts’ may have been revolting against the Romantic era optimism and they may have just been trying to get their ’circle’ of friends published, but the fact remains that the literary world was changed forever.
Imagism may not be easy to interpret and it may sometimes make a person say ‘OK, that’s different’, but the fact remains, imagism was a very important movement that apparently was, and is here to stay.
I will try to write this chapter so that these undergraduate students can appreciate the value of an era that was short lived, but had a lasting impact on the world.
I chose Imagism because I think it was a very important step forward in all literary work since its conception. Though this movement was short lived, it held a lasting impact on future writers and poets.
With imagism, there is no confusion on what you are reading, the images are clear. This is apposed to the earlier eras where the words were complicated and sometimes felt disjointed from the image. This is if you could even find an image from having to stop and decipher all the words.
Imagism is the ‘the bare bones and punk rock of poetry’. (Scott Weaver) With imagism, you have the image of what is being said as soon as you read it. It may not make since at first, but the image is clear. Then, when reread and pondered upon what you have read, you get this ‘ah ha’ moment and the image suddenly expands.
This is important, for me at least, because you are not lost in the words, but the image itself, thus allowing a reader to go back and analyze their own interpretation. For me, when I read something, I try to imagine what I am reading while I am reading it. I try to ‘see’ and understand at that precise moment of what is being said. Then, when I ponder on that image I have in my head, suddenly this one image explodes into many.
Ezra Pound and his ’cohorts’ may have been revolting against the Romantic era optimism and they may have just been trying to get their ’circle’ of friends published, but the fact remains that the literary world was changed forever.
Imagism may not be easy to interpret and it may sometimes make a person say ‘OK, that’s different’, but the fact remains, imagism was a very important movement that apparently was, and is here to stay.
I will try to write this chapter so that these undergraduate students can appreciate the value of an era that was short lived, but had a lasting impact on the world.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
T.S. Eliot 'The Hollow Men' pg.1599
Oh, man! T.S. Eliot, to what planet is your mind on? I have discovered that the High Modernism is way out there!
I read ‘The Hollow Men’ before I read ‘The Waste Land’, and I am truly glad I did! If I would have read it last, I would not have been able analyze it as my brain could not function after ‘The Waste Land’. At least with ‘The Hollow Men’, I could get a small semblance of what Eliot was talking about in this poem, whereas with ‘The Waste Land’ I was only able to add on to my vocabulary.
The whole poem ‘The Hollow Men’ centers around the title itself. A hollow man is like a puppet or a robot that does what it is told to do and only when is it is told. They do not think for themselves; they do not have a mind of their own, they see what they are told to see. They are forgettable.
However, Eliot cautions not to forget the hollow men, as they are just as human as the rest of humanity. They may be controlled by the puppeteer, but they are not ‘nothing’; they are someone. Though their ’dried voices, when we whisper together, Are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass’, they do have a voice. They are not just ‘lost violent souls’, but hollow men that are controlled by their puppet masters. As we all are at some point in our life. Does that make us forgettable and hollow? No, it does not, for everyone is someone.
Eliot goes on to discuss how even hollow men will have to face the ‘cactus land’ of thorns and barrenness to get to the ‘twilight kingdom’. They too will face death. And in death, they too will face their judgment accordingly.
I thought it was interesting that Eliot referred to the Lords Prayer right after he quoted a revised children’s song. However, with that being said, to use the term ‘prickly pear’ instead of ‘mulberry berry bush’ is indicative to the meaning that everyone will have a long, thorny journey to reach their goal of their own sweetness. This being heaven for some, and for others, it my be something totally different and even tangible in some cases.
Not every person fits into the same mold. Just because they may seem different, like Eliot himself ( on offense), or even indifferent, does not mean that they are ‘hollow men‘, and that they have no meaning. No one should be forgettable.
“ This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper”. Seems to me that T.S. Eliot needs to take his own advise. Whimpers are forgettable, bangs are heard around the world and never forgotten.
I read ‘The Hollow Men’ before I read ‘The Waste Land’, and I am truly glad I did! If I would have read it last, I would not have been able analyze it as my brain could not function after ‘The Waste Land’. At least with ‘The Hollow Men’, I could get a small semblance of what Eliot was talking about in this poem, whereas with ‘The Waste Land’ I was only able to add on to my vocabulary.
The whole poem ‘The Hollow Men’ centers around the title itself. A hollow man is like a puppet or a robot that does what it is told to do and only when is it is told. They do not think for themselves; they do not have a mind of their own, they see what they are told to see. They are forgettable.
However, Eliot cautions not to forget the hollow men, as they are just as human as the rest of humanity. They may be controlled by the puppeteer, but they are not ‘nothing’; they are someone. Though their ’dried voices, when we whisper together, Are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass’, they do have a voice. They are not just ‘lost violent souls’, but hollow men that are controlled by their puppet masters. As we all are at some point in our life. Does that make us forgettable and hollow? No, it does not, for everyone is someone.
Eliot goes on to discuss how even hollow men will have to face the ‘cactus land’ of thorns and barrenness to get to the ‘twilight kingdom’. They too will face death. And in death, they too will face their judgment accordingly.
I thought it was interesting that Eliot referred to the Lords Prayer right after he quoted a revised children’s song. However, with that being said, to use the term ‘prickly pear’ instead of ‘mulberry berry bush’ is indicative to the meaning that everyone will have a long, thorny journey to reach their goal of their own sweetness. This being heaven for some, and for others, it my be something totally different and even tangible in some cases.
Not every person fits into the same mold. Just because they may seem different, like Eliot himself ( on offense), or even indifferent, does not mean that they are ‘hollow men‘, and that they have no meaning. No one should be forgettable.
“ This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper”. Seems to me that T.S. Eliot needs to take his own advise. Whimpers are forgettable, bangs are heard around the world and never forgotten.
English Clud Reading 3/10/10
First off, let me just say that for those of you who did not go to this reading, you missed two terrific readers! They were both fantastic! Amanda did a great job conducting also! Kudos to all who participated!
I had only been to one other reading before this, and because I enjoyed it so immensely, I was looking forward to attending this one as well. It did not disappoint let me tell you!
It began with Amanda introducing Zack, as he was the first reader of the night. The introduction was hilarious! We learned in a very amusing way that Zach is a student here at CWI, he is from Horseshoe Bend, adopted, smokes Marlboro Reds and if you ever see him in a bar, you are to buy him his favorite drink, which is a martini WITH salt.
I should have guessed with the introduction, that this was not going to be a reading that will have a person yawning. It was funny from beginning to end.
Zach starts out by plugging the Beard Club competition and acting as if he owns the prize. Then he informs us that one of the stories he will be reading is going to be an essay that he wrote entitled “My Little Friend.”
OK, this sounds innocent enough, right. Wrong! It is a good thing that we were all adults, not faint hearted, and that there was a bathroom close by just in case someone was in need of one in fear of peeing their pants from laughing!
As it turns out, Zach’s “Little Friend” was an imaginary tapeworm named Ally, which he had longed for since the fifth grade. He goes into great detail about how he would love his tapeworm, how he would take care of it, where he would harbor his “Little Friend”. I will not go into as much detail on his answers as he had, as I am fairly certain that we need to keep this at least at a PG13. Let’s just say that he was very descriptive and personal, not to mention funny as hell!
In the end, Zach never did get to have his tapeworm, though he still dreams of ‘her’. However, in or about 2003, he was blessed with a different sort of parasite; KING size parasites! (I will let you use your imagination to figure this one out!).
His second story that he read was entitled, “She Settled on a Sundress”. Though this story was not on a personal basis, it was however just as adult themed, descriptive and compelling. There did seem to have been a reoccurring theme to both these stories though. They both involved crustaceans! Was this done on purpose? I have no idea, but it worked!
Zach did a wonderful job with writing and reading these stories! He definitely knows how to get the reader, or listener in this case, into his stories. He also has tremendous guts to share the things he did! Though, maybe just a little too much information! But I have to admit, it was hilarious!
Just a side note: the second reader to which I will not name names due to the fact that he thinks it would be weird and his ego couldn‘t take it ( as he has said this himself), did just as an amazing job as Zach! Way to go!
The next time there is an English Club reading, I encourage everyone to go. You will not be disappointed!
I had only been to one other reading before this, and because I enjoyed it so immensely, I was looking forward to attending this one as well. It did not disappoint let me tell you!
It began with Amanda introducing Zack, as he was the first reader of the night. The introduction was hilarious! We learned in a very amusing way that Zach is a student here at CWI, he is from Horseshoe Bend, adopted, smokes Marlboro Reds and if you ever see him in a bar, you are to buy him his favorite drink, which is a martini WITH salt.
I should have guessed with the introduction, that this was not going to be a reading that will have a person yawning. It was funny from beginning to end.
Zach starts out by plugging the Beard Club competition and acting as if he owns the prize. Then he informs us that one of the stories he will be reading is going to be an essay that he wrote entitled “My Little Friend.”
OK, this sounds innocent enough, right. Wrong! It is a good thing that we were all adults, not faint hearted, and that there was a bathroom close by just in case someone was in need of one in fear of peeing their pants from laughing!
As it turns out, Zach’s “Little Friend” was an imaginary tapeworm named Ally, which he had longed for since the fifth grade. He goes into great detail about how he would love his tapeworm, how he would take care of it, where he would harbor his “Little Friend”. I will not go into as much detail on his answers as he had, as I am fairly certain that we need to keep this at least at a PG13. Let’s just say that he was very descriptive and personal, not to mention funny as hell!
In the end, Zach never did get to have his tapeworm, though he still dreams of ‘her’. However, in or about 2003, he was blessed with a different sort of parasite; KING size parasites! (I will let you use your imagination to figure this one out!).
His second story that he read was entitled, “She Settled on a Sundress”. Though this story was not on a personal basis, it was however just as adult themed, descriptive and compelling. There did seem to have been a reoccurring theme to both these stories though. They both involved crustaceans! Was this done on purpose? I have no idea, but it worked!
Zach did a wonderful job with writing and reading these stories! He definitely knows how to get the reader, or listener in this case, into his stories. He also has tremendous guts to share the things he did! Though, maybe just a little too much information! But I have to admit, it was hilarious!
Just a side note: the second reader to which I will not name names due to the fact that he thinks it would be weird and his ego couldn‘t take it ( as he has said this himself), did just as an amazing job as Zach! Way to go!
The next time there is an English Club reading, I encourage everyone to go. You will not be disappointed!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Mina Loy "Feminist Manifesto" pg 1502
Upon my reading of Mina Loy’s ‘Feminist Manifesto’, I was struck with a sense of bitterness from her. One of my first impressions was that she was either a women scorned from a cheating, and demanding husband, or she was a mistress herself and her lover would not leave his wife for her. Another impression was that she sounded, at times, to be gay or bisexual. (DISCLAIMER: To each his/her own, I don’t give a hoot!)
Though I don’t think this last observation is completely true simply because she states, “The only point at which the interests of the sexes merge--is the sexual embrace.” Basically, to me, she was saying that men pretty much are only good for sex toys.
With that being said, Loy talks a lot about the sexual freedoms that women of the time did not have but felt should be granted. Sex is sex, there should be no restrictions. What’s good for the man should be good for the woman, “…there is nothing impure in sex-- except in the mental attitude to it--” So, my jury is still out on whether she may or may not have been gay or bisexual. (Please see DICLAIMER above).
I do believe completely however, that Loy was a definite feminist radical! To even suggest “surgical destruction of virginity…at puberty” is way beyond radicalism! To do this, does not mean that a girl loses her virginity; this only suggests that a young girl loses a sense of herself. By under going surgery, this is saying she is not good enough to fit into the man’s world as she is; a world, at that time, she was being kept out of. This would only bring her down even further.
Loy herself say’s that “…the value of woman depends entirely on chance, her success or insuccess in manoeuvering a man into taking the life-long responsibility of her--”. To have the ‘veil of virginity’ (to put it delicately) taken by surgery, in this time period, would be a sure fire way to condemn a girl to a lifetime of struggle. For no man would take her as a wife, in turn leaving her to struggle even harder to survive, and quite possibly making her turn to prostitution.
Then again, this seemed to be Loy’s wish; to make the women completely free of anything doing with a man. Including giving up love and virtue. In her eyes, a woman should love only herself and do as she pleases. If this meant turning to prostitution, then so be it.
These sentiments was hard to get past to see what she was saying. Yes, I do believe a that a woman should not have to depend on a man financially if she so chooses. I also believe that a woman should have a child because it is a MUTUAL agreement between partners, or if she is single, between herself and the sperm bank,(whether it is an institutional sperm bank or a ‘friend with benefits’).
I do not believe however, that a woman should be more responsible for the child than the man. Nor do I believe that a woman should only think of herself and be deceitful in doing the things she chooses to do. No one, man nor women, should destroy themselves or others for personal satisfaction . It takes away the very respect that a person should be trying to gain.
I think that for her time period, during the oppression of women, Loy’s thoughts were too radical to be said out loud. Maybe this is why this letter did not get published until after her death. Then again, it is too radical for the present time as well.
Mina Loy would have enjoyed living in our time period. A period where women go to school, hold jobs and put their kids in daycare. She would also enjoy the fact that prostitution is legal in some states, gays and lesbians have ‘come out of the closet’ (please see DISCLAIMER above), and there are ‘adult’ stores for all the ‘toys’ she would want, hence, leaving the man out of the equation all together.
To each his own. I personally think Loy was too much of a weird radical feminist. I am sure that there are some that would cherish and agree with everything she said in this letter. I, for one, do not. Chivalry in a man is refreshing, an occasional complement is nice and a bouquet of flowers are beautiful. This does not make me submissive. It makes me a woman. Being a woman, IS being a feminist.
Though I don’t think this last observation is completely true simply because she states, “The only point at which the interests of the sexes merge--is the sexual embrace.” Basically, to me, she was saying that men pretty much are only good for sex toys.
With that being said, Loy talks a lot about the sexual freedoms that women of the time did not have but felt should be granted. Sex is sex, there should be no restrictions. What’s good for the man should be good for the woman, “…there is nothing impure in sex-- except in the mental attitude to it--” So, my jury is still out on whether she may or may not have been gay or bisexual. (Please see DICLAIMER above).
I do believe completely however, that Loy was a definite feminist radical! To even suggest “surgical destruction of virginity…at puberty” is way beyond radicalism! To do this, does not mean that a girl loses her virginity; this only suggests that a young girl loses a sense of herself. By under going surgery, this is saying she is not good enough to fit into the man’s world as she is; a world, at that time, she was being kept out of. This would only bring her down even further.
Loy herself say’s that “…the value of woman depends entirely on chance, her success or insuccess in manoeuvering a man into taking the life-long responsibility of her--”. To have the ‘veil of virginity’ (to put it delicately) taken by surgery, in this time period, would be a sure fire way to condemn a girl to a lifetime of struggle. For no man would take her as a wife, in turn leaving her to struggle even harder to survive, and quite possibly making her turn to prostitution.
Then again, this seemed to be Loy’s wish; to make the women completely free of anything doing with a man. Including giving up love and virtue. In her eyes, a woman should love only herself and do as she pleases. If this meant turning to prostitution, then so be it.
These sentiments was hard to get past to see what she was saying. Yes, I do believe a that a woman should not have to depend on a man financially if she so chooses. I also believe that a woman should have a child because it is a MUTUAL agreement between partners, or if she is single, between herself and the sperm bank,(whether it is an institutional sperm bank or a ‘friend with benefits’).
I do not believe however, that a woman should be more responsible for the child than the man. Nor do I believe that a woman should only think of herself and be deceitful in doing the things she chooses to do. No one, man nor women, should destroy themselves or others for personal satisfaction . It takes away the very respect that a person should be trying to gain.
I think that for her time period, during the oppression of women, Loy’s thoughts were too radical to be said out loud. Maybe this is why this letter did not get published until after her death. Then again, it is too radical for the present time as well.
Mina Loy would have enjoyed living in our time period. A period where women go to school, hold jobs and put their kids in daycare. She would also enjoy the fact that prostitution is legal in some states, gays and lesbians have ‘come out of the closet’ (please see DISCLAIMER above), and there are ‘adult’ stores for all the ‘toys’ she would want, hence, leaving the man out of the equation all together.
To each his own. I personally think Loy was too much of a weird radical feminist. I am sure that there are some that would cherish and agree with everything she said in this letter. I, for one, do not. Chivalry in a man is refreshing, an occasional complement is nice and a bouquet of flowers are beautiful. This does not make me submissive. It makes me a woman. Being a woman, IS being a feminist.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Booker T. Washington "Up from Slavery" pg 665
One of the things that I noticed as I was reading Booker T. Washington’s “Up from Slavery” was the humor he inserted into this story. It began early on when he was talking about not knowing where or when he was born and adding, ‘but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at some time’. This put me at ease right away because the last thing I wanted to do was read a stale autobiography that was written in a monotone manner. Thank goodness, as it turns out, this was not that kind of autobiography. The humor was spread throughout each section and was nice to read considering how heavy the content of the story was. The humor sometimes took the bite out of the awful truth of the life he had to endure. This is true for everyone’s life, however. If you can’t find something to smile about when you are going through afflictions, then the afflictions win.
A person can speculate and try to understand what it is like to be in someone else’s shoes, but it is not until they walk in their shoes and can ‘see’ what that person is going through, that they can fully understand that person’s place. Booker T. Washington writes this story in a manner that makes the reader wear his shoes; the reader becomes part of the story. I think that this, along with the humor, was intentional. As I read, I could picture the images that he was writing about. I could imagine the ‘grape-vine telegraph’ that the slaves used to know what was going on around them; I could see all the holes in the walls of the cabins that let in the cold air of winter and the hot air of summer. I could imagine what ‘a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in contact with his flesh’, would feel like when putting on a new flax shirt for the first time.
Washington wanted understanding from the one’s that had not walked in the shoes of a slave. He also wanted to remind those that did walk this walk, that though progress was slow, it was still progress. It would take time to acclimate to the freedom that they were given. This is true for everyone in every race. You can’t tell someone to go cook dinner, if they have never cooked before. If you do, then you must suffer the consequences. One of three things will happen; they will either get lucky and dinner will be edible, or dinner will be unrecognizable and no longer in the food category, or your house could get burned down, in which case would suck. So wouldn’t it be better if a person is taught first before they are let loose in the kitchen? I think that this is what Booker T. Washington was getting at, when he wrote this story.
I do not agree with DeBois’ assessment about Washington. I do not believe Washington was trying to keep the black man oppressed, but was trying to get them to understand that they need to have patience and to gain knowledge of what their freedom really meant. He was trying to get them to see that there was no need to envy or hate the white race because that puts them on the same level with whom they are condemning. This way of thinking was what was going to keep the black race where they were; an oppressed race.
Be proud of whom you are and if you don’t like where you come from, then change where you are going. But before you can change, you must gain the knowledge to make the change correctly. If you do not, then you set yourself up for failure. Booker T. Washington’s advise spans through every race and in every time period. Do not envy those that have more than you, for sometimes they are more oppressed than you are. Most importantly, do not cast stones if you live in a glass house. This advice should be held to all men and women of every race. I believe Washington knew this and this is why he said and did the things that he did. For out of adversity, triumphs success.
A person can speculate and try to understand what it is like to be in someone else’s shoes, but it is not until they walk in their shoes and can ‘see’ what that person is going through, that they can fully understand that person’s place. Booker T. Washington writes this story in a manner that makes the reader wear his shoes; the reader becomes part of the story. I think that this, along with the humor, was intentional. As I read, I could picture the images that he was writing about. I could imagine the ‘grape-vine telegraph’ that the slaves used to know what was going on around them; I could see all the holes in the walls of the cabins that let in the cold air of winter and the hot air of summer. I could imagine what ‘a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in contact with his flesh’, would feel like when putting on a new flax shirt for the first time.
Washington wanted understanding from the one’s that had not walked in the shoes of a slave. He also wanted to remind those that did walk this walk, that though progress was slow, it was still progress. It would take time to acclimate to the freedom that they were given. This is true for everyone in every race. You can’t tell someone to go cook dinner, if they have never cooked before. If you do, then you must suffer the consequences. One of three things will happen; they will either get lucky and dinner will be edible, or dinner will be unrecognizable and no longer in the food category, or your house could get burned down, in which case would suck. So wouldn’t it be better if a person is taught first before they are let loose in the kitchen? I think that this is what Booker T. Washington was getting at, when he wrote this story.
I do not agree with DeBois’ assessment about Washington. I do not believe Washington was trying to keep the black man oppressed, but was trying to get them to understand that they need to have patience and to gain knowledge of what their freedom really meant. He was trying to get them to see that there was no need to envy or hate the white race because that puts them on the same level with whom they are condemning. This way of thinking was what was going to keep the black race where they were; an oppressed race.
Be proud of whom you are and if you don’t like where you come from, then change where you are going. But before you can change, you must gain the knowledge to make the change correctly. If you do not, then you set yourself up for failure. Booker T. Washington’s advise spans through every race and in every time period. Do not envy those that have more than you, for sometimes they are more oppressed than you are. Most importantly, do not cast stones if you live in a glass house. This advice should be held to all men and women of every race. I believe Washington knew this and this is why he said and did the things that he did. For out of adversity, triumphs success.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Dunbar, 'An Ante-Bellum Sermon' pg 1041
Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem ‘An Ante-Bellum Sermon’ was very eye opening for me. It made me stop and ponder on the truthfulness of what he was saying in this poem. The fact that he wrote it with hindsight makes it even more powerful. Moses, in the form of the Civil War, did come and free them from their slavery. He knew this when he wrote this poem. It was like he was putting himself in this situation, knowing the outcome, and trying to get others to see that there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to endure the walk until you get there, and when you do, it will all be worth it.
Though he was addressing the slaves in this poem, I believe he was talking to every ‘man’, telling them that the Lord WILL come and save those that are in bondage. Whatever bondage they were in, the Lord would send a Savior. For the scriptures themselves talks against slavery, and inequality. He warns that the Lord will not tolerate such abominations; that all men are equal in His eyes. To call yourself a Christian, you need to head the warning. Christians are suppose be God fearing and obedient.
This was done in a very clever and careful way. Dunbar made sure to say, “Dat I ‘m still a-preachin’ ancient, I aint talkin’ ‘bout to-day…Dat I ‘m talkin’ ‘bout ouah freedom In a Bilbleistic way”. He knew that if he came out and directly said these things at this time, there would be consequences in the form of punishment. However, through his subliminal warning to the white people, (I also think he was talking to the Harlem Renaissance leaders who criticized him for selling out to the ‘white audience’) he was uplifting his own race. He was telling them to have patience, to look to the future, for it will not always be as bad as it was. Things could and would get better.
I thought that it was interesting that Dunbar wrote this as an ante-bellum poem. He, himself, was not a slave, but he was, however, one generation away from slavery. He did see firsthand, the cost of what slavery had done to ‘his’ people. He knew that they would have a long road ahead of them. He knew that even he would have to endure this long road to equality; not knowing when this road would fully come to an end, but believing that there would be an end to inequality.
I think Dunbar’s purpose to this ante-bellum was to make people see that things could and will get better if you endure and trust in the fact that the Lord will send a ‘Moses’ to your rescue. It will not happen overnight, but it will happen. You must stand up and believe in who you are. You must never allow anyone to bring you down because of your skin color, or your beliefs. In the same sense, you, yourself, should never bring someone else down because of their skin color or beliefs.
Though he was addressing the slaves in this poem, I believe he was talking to every ‘man’, telling them that the Lord WILL come and save those that are in bondage. Whatever bondage they were in, the Lord would send a Savior. For the scriptures themselves talks against slavery, and inequality. He warns that the Lord will not tolerate such abominations; that all men are equal in His eyes. To call yourself a Christian, you need to head the warning. Christians are suppose be God fearing and obedient.
This was done in a very clever and careful way. Dunbar made sure to say, “Dat I ‘m still a-preachin’ ancient, I aint talkin’ ‘bout to-day…Dat I ‘m talkin’ ‘bout ouah freedom In a Bilbleistic way”. He knew that if he came out and directly said these things at this time, there would be consequences in the form of punishment. However, through his subliminal warning to the white people, (I also think he was talking to the Harlem Renaissance leaders who criticized him for selling out to the ‘white audience’) he was uplifting his own race. He was telling them to have patience, to look to the future, for it will not always be as bad as it was. Things could and would get better.
I thought that it was interesting that Dunbar wrote this as an ante-bellum poem. He, himself, was not a slave, but he was, however, one generation away from slavery. He did see firsthand, the cost of what slavery had done to ‘his’ people. He knew that they would have a long road ahead of them. He knew that even he would have to endure this long road to equality; not knowing when this road would fully come to an end, but believing that there would be an end to inequality.
I think Dunbar’s purpose to this ante-bellum was to make people see that things could and will get better if you endure and trust in the fact that the Lord will send a ‘Moses’ to your rescue. It will not happen overnight, but it will happen. You must stand up and believe in who you are. You must never allow anyone to bring you down because of your skin color, or your beliefs. In the same sense, you, yourself, should never bring someone else down because of their skin color or beliefs.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Joel Chandler Harris, "The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story"
Out of the three stories we read this week, Joel Chandler Harris' story 'The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story', though it was the shortest, was by far the hardest to read! I had to read and re-read, then re-read again just to wrap my brain around one sentence! Let me tell you, it was a long and tedious process! This story became the bane of my existence for three days.
Words like "ter wuk", "wid", "gwineter", "segashuate", to name a few, would creep into my thought process at odd times and shut everything down! (I’m still unsure about what ‘sezee’ means. Is it supposed to be ‘says he’? ) What in the world did these words mean? How do they translate into the English language that I know? It was like my brain would come to a screeching halt and refused to compute what I was reading. I would then have to drop everything and re-read this story AGAIN. It was the classic 'love-hate' relationship! It was like the story was written in a foreign language but I couldn’t put it down. I don't know what frustrated me more; not understanding the dialect, or the dialect itself. Harris definitely had the 'old south' genre down pat! You could tell that the time he spent on the Turnwold Plantation with "Uncle" George Terrell and the others, had given him insight into this unique language and lifestyle.
So I decided, that when all else fails, read the story out loud in a southern accent, (well, a southern accent to myself, but to others, not so much) and see where that takes me! What I discovered by using this method, albeit a method of madness, was, ‘WOW! It worked!’ Then, throw in the power of deduction and reasoning, and there you go. I began to see the story that Harris wanted us to see.
I say ‘see’ because once I got past my own self imposed barriers, the story started taking shape. I was able to see the imagery and the humor that Harris was writing in this story. Here’s a tale being told by a ‘black’ man to a ‘white’ boy about an undercover fox trying to be ‘sly as a fox’ and a rabbit with an attitude, playing in the middle of the street. That seems easy enough (ha!). Then, the story shifts to give us none other than a cliffhanger at the end! So I say to myself, “Are you kidding me?!” All the while staring at the words before me, feeling perplexed and stupefied, with a mixture of disgust and unbelievability, all wrapped up in nice, neat, little package. I went through all of that for a cliffhanger. Wow.
So, I ask myself, what was the reason and moral of this story? I’m sure there is one. Maybe it is that we should not let the way other people talk, or the way they look, get in our way of hearing their story; for everyone has a story. Maybe it’s saying that if someone comes up to you and says “Hi’ you need to say “Hello” back to them or you’ll get socked in the face. I’m sure if I really thought about it, I could come up with a moral to this story. However, I’m just happy that I was able to survive Harris’ writing.
If you ever asked me what I thought about Joel Chandler Harris, I would probably roll my eyes and groan. I would then tell you that he either had a diabolical sense of humor toward his readers or he was a complete genius and knew exactly what he was doing. Come to think about, it is probably both of these things. A classic ‘love, hate’ relationship!
Words like "ter wuk", "wid", "gwineter", "segashuate", to name a few, would creep into my thought process at odd times and shut everything down! (I’m still unsure about what ‘sezee’ means. Is it supposed to be ‘says he’? ) What in the world did these words mean? How do they translate into the English language that I know? It was like my brain would come to a screeching halt and refused to compute what I was reading. I would then have to drop everything and re-read this story AGAIN. It was the classic 'love-hate' relationship! It was like the story was written in a foreign language but I couldn’t put it down. I don't know what frustrated me more; not understanding the dialect, or the dialect itself. Harris definitely had the 'old south' genre down pat! You could tell that the time he spent on the Turnwold Plantation with "Uncle" George Terrell and the others, had given him insight into this unique language and lifestyle.
So I decided, that when all else fails, read the story out loud in a southern accent, (well, a southern accent to myself, but to others, not so much) and see where that takes me! What I discovered by using this method, albeit a method of madness, was, ‘WOW! It worked!’ Then, throw in the power of deduction and reasoning, and there you go. I began to see the story that Harris wanted us to see.
I say ‘see’ because once I got past my own self imposed barriers, the story started taking shape. I was able to see the imagery and the humor that Harris was writing in this story. Here’s a tale being told by a ‘black’ man to a ‘white’ boy about an undercover fox trying to be ‘sly as a fox’ and a rabbit with an attitude, playing in the middle of the street. That seems easy enough (ha!). Then, the story shifts to give us none other than a cliffhanger at the end! So I say to myself, “Are you kidding me?!” All the while staring at the words before me, feeling perplexed and stupefied, with a mixture of disgust and unbelievability, all wrapped up in nice, neat, little package. I went through all of that for a cliffhanger. Wow.
So, I ask myself, what was the reason and moral of this story? I’m sure there is one. Maybe it is that we should not let the way other people talk, or the way they look, get in our way of hearing their story; for everyone has a story. Maybe it’s saying that if someone comes up to you and says “Hi’ you need to say “Hello” back to them or you’ll get socked in the face. I’m sure if I really thought about it, I could come up with a moral to this story. However, I’m just happy that I was able to survive Harris’ writing.
If you ever asked me what I thought about Joel Chandler Harris, I would probably roll my eyes and groan. I would then tell you that he either had a diabolical sense of humor toward his readers or he was a complete genius and knew exactly what he was doing. Come to think about, it is probably both of these things. A classic ‘love, hate’ relationship!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Walt Whitman "Song of Myself" pg 30
'Life is Sweet' seems to me to be the recurring theme in Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself". Since this is such a long poem,I am referring specifically to the first 6 verses. In the first verse, Whitman is clearly thankful for life in general, and takes time to appreciate his surroundings, “I celebrate myself...I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass...Hoping to cease not till death". Good or bad, he permits himself to enjoy his experience.
What comes to mind in the 2nd verse are not perfumes that are worn, but how this perfume is life itself. It is to be sweet and intoxicating. Everyone should love life "undisguised and naked". Whitman takes the time to see and hear and feel, to be thankful for the little things in life, "The sniff of green leaves...A few light kisses... The play of shine and shade on the trees... The feeling of health...the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun". Life should be uninhibited; it should be stripped to its bare essentials. Life should not be edited not through someone else's eyes, but through our own. We should be in love with our own life, and enjoy our own surroundings.
But how does a person fully love their life? How do they express it and feel it without sounding self righteous or conceited as Whitman sometimes sounds? First, we need to be secure in ourselves, as Whitman says in verse 3. "Sure as the most certain sure...stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical...clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul... I am satisfied-I see,dance,laugh,sing". When was the last time we stopped and appreciated what we have instead of what we don't have? When was the last time we looked in the mirror and said, "I believe in you my soul"?
Life is full of good and bad as verse 5 points out. However, verse 6 helps us to understand how to love life and ourselves. It starts by loving others, no matter who the are, or where they come from; whether it be, "Kanuck,Tuckahoe,Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same". Loving others and the things around us goes hand in hand with loving and accepting ourselves; for without one, the other can not be fully achieved.
Whitman clearly loves himself,and through this, is able to love, except, and appreciate all people and things around him. Life is to be sweet. If it isn't, then we need to step back, peel back the layers that are not, and change what needs to be changed. Life shouldn't suck, it should be cherished. Life is sometimes hard, and sometimes things are easier said than done, but we should strive for the courage to change the things that need to be changed. We should like who stares back at us from the mirror. We sould always be able to say to ourselves, "I believe in you my soul".
Life is Sweet!
What comes to mind in the 2nd verse are not perfumes that are worn, but how this perfume is life itself. It is to be sweet and intoxicating. Everyone should love life "undisguised and naked". Whitman takes the time to see and hear and feel, to be thankful for the little things in life, "The sniff of green leaves...A few light kisses... The play of shine and shade on the trees... The feeling of health...the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun". Life should be uninhibited; it should be stripped to its bare essentials. Life should not be edited not through someone else's eyes, but through our own. We should be in love with our own life, and enjoy our own surroundings.
But how does a person fully love their life? How do they express it and feel it without sounding self righteous or conceited as Whitman sometimes sounds? First, we need to be secure in ourselves, as Whitman says in verse 3. "Sure as the most certain sure...stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical...clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul... I am satisfied-I see,dance,laugh,sing". When was the last time we stopped and appreciated what we have instead of what we don't have? When was the last time we looked in the mirror and said, "I believe in you my soul"?
Life is full of good and bad as verse 5 points out. However, verse 6 helps us to understand how to love life and ourselves. It starts by loving others, no matter who the are, or where they come from; whether it be, "Kanuck,Tuckahoe,Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same". Loving others and the things around us goes hand in hand with loving and accepting ourselves; for without one, the other can not be fully achieved.
Whitman clearly loves himself,and through this, is able to love, except, and appreciate all people and things around him. Life is to be sweet. If it isn't, then we need to step back, peel back the layers that are not, and change what needs to be changed. Life shouldn't suck, it should be cherished. Life is sometimes hard, and sometimes things are easier said than done, but we should strive for the courage to change the things that need to be changed. We should like who stares back at us from the mirror. We sould always be able to say to ourselves, "I believe in you my soul".
Life is Sweet!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
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