First Memories, Friendship, and Love in Life Writing - Essay Example

? LIFE WRITING by First Memories The first definable memory of mine is of running out-of-doors after the lightning hit our barn back in 1989. The barn was very close to our house and it was full of livestock. I remember the cold and the wind, and the terrible sound of the squealing hogs. I also remember my Dad and Uncle John trying to deal with the growing fire. The heat expanded speedily as the fire raged. With wood behind their backs blackening and charring, both men looked as if they were about to be baked in a huge oven. My next placeable recollection after the fire scene – it might have been July or August following the lightning – was of the marvellous swings in Tom’s side yard under the birches. Just as I got on the two-rope swings, Tom started pushing me forth. There I was: back and forth, and again back and forth! I loved the swings, I loved the wind, and I loved Tom, my elder brother, as I thought of him then. Friendship and Love One of my earliest friends was Tom Williams, the only son of our half-witted neighbour Jack Williams. As we grew side by side, I became very much attached to Tom. He was a kind of a brother figure for me. Yet, in my early teens, and Tom was 3 years elder than me, I started to feel uncomfortable about that friendship because other girls would make fun of me. Poor Tom, he was not at all attractive, with his cleft lip and numerous freckles, besides he was a bit lame. He had lost his mother when he was a toddler, and his father, poor Jack Williams, who had never been quite right in his head, provided his upbringing. Yet, Tom grew up a very intelligent boy. He had probably read millions of books by the time he turned 17, though failed his school exams. At the day they were to write the test, Tom’s father fell from a tree and broke his legs. When Tom finally got to school, he had already been so agitated that he was simply unable to figure out what it was all about. That only added to his ugly image of a scarecrow and a loser. Driven by that bias, I would also avoid Tom’s company even if it were a 5-minute talk over the fence. I did not ever see a sign of disappointment on Tom’s face when I said I needed to go every time he would want to have a talk with me. He was lonely and his insane father was his major company. In me, he hoped to find some kind of understanding and support. He was hoping I was not like other teenagers in the neighbourhood who called him ‘mad’, ‘ugly’, and ‘stupid’. Yes, I did know he was neither mad nor stupid. But I did not want to be mocked at and so avoided Tom at all costs. I did not want my name to be mentioned in connection to Tom. Tom was ugly, I was sure, and by the time I turned 15 I felt a kind of disgust to the boy. At that time, I already began to be interested in boys. But it was a secret interest, of course. Once I fell in love with Matt, the son of an old fisherman from the other part of the town. Matt came to my friend’s brother on Sundays, and I often saw them by the river. Once my friend Sally went to tell her brother about some errand, and I went with her. The boys were fishing. It was a marvellous hot day, the water in the river was crystal clear, with weedy bottom and hundreds of small fish swimming in it. Matt’s look made me blush. He brought the pole and we went fishing. Matt’s legs were in the water just side by side with mine. In a moment, his leg touched mine in the water. And I did not withdraw it! I looked at Matt: he looked as if he were the happiest person on earth! Yet, my father came and took me home. He was probably not very fond of Matt and made it clear to him. Anyway, Mat did not make any attempts to play court to me. My next teenage love was Ryan, a boy I met at church. Ryan was the minister’s youngest son and I would often see him during the Sunday service. Ryan played the piano very well and I was charmed by his big blue eyes and blond hair. Old Mr James apparently liked me, as did his kind-hearted wife, so they encouraged Ryan to invite me out for a walk at Cherry Park. It was a fine Sunday and I hoped that Ryan would show his affection to me. We talked to each other a bit, and everything went all right until the last moment. We stood at the corner of the Middle Street when three of my classmates Jessie, Lizzie, and Kate came up. They said they needed to take the same bus. When the bus came, we all piled in. However, when Ryan put his hand into the pocket, he did not have enough cash to pay for us. In fact, he did not have cash to pay even for himself. So we had to pay his way. My classmates were laughing and made Ryan really embarrassed. I tried to comfort Ryan but I think he never quite got over that. Anyway, Ryan never rang me after that. The next love was Bill Powell from my college years. I became infatuated with him the very moment I saw him at my friend’s birthday party. Bill came from the States and I loved everything about him. He was well-built, handsome, and muscular. He was always cheerful, optimistic, and energetic. He knew what he wanted and took care of his athletic body. England seemed dull to him and he tried to overcome his U.S. nostalgia by going to a different place every next weekend. With Bill, we travelled round whole England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. We also went to Paris and Spain. I was head over heels in love with joyous and always smiling Bill full of physical and emotional power. Besides, the fact that his mother came from the family of Polish migrants made me think of Bill as a God-given partner because of my own Polish roots. One day Billie said he would love to visit my parents’ household in Braintree. “Oh, I’m so happy!” I replied. I was dead sure that Mom and Dad would be obsessed with my American boyfriend the way I was. Feeling a bit uneasy about our small stone cottage with an old tiled roof and a big rundown garden, I asked Mom and Dad to make necessary preparations. The garden was immediately taken care of. My Dad turned into a passionate gardener. He was raking and digging, he was planting and weeding, until he was able to stand over his garden with pride. When Bill came to our place, the garden was full of decorative grasses and magical herbs. I was literally impressed! But Bill was not that pleased. He imagined I came from an old aristocratic family in Essex and probably hoped to see if not a glamorous penthouse but at least a 16th century castle. Instead, what he found was a homestead. He could barely hide disappointment on his face. “How old is your house?” he asked Dad after they shook hands. “Oh, it dates back to the 18th century,” Dad replied proudly. “Our family have lived here for generations!” “How funny,” said Billie. “Your house is as old as the United States! Ha-ha!” I was happy Billie could overcome his disappointment and laughed, too. “Dad has made lots of changes to this house of late”, I said gently, “You won’t feel the house is old”. “I hope so”, Billie gave me his backpack and sat on the sofa. “Anyway, I won’t have a chance to stay long. What is the first train tomorrow morning?” I was on the verge of tears to hear that when Dad came in. He gave Billie a strange look and said, “Oh, the first train is 5.30 am. And do you have your family nest there in the States, Billie?” Billie almost choked. “Family… what? No, I’d lived in a van up to the time both of parents kicked the bucket. When I was 13 my father’s sister took custody of me. She did not want me to become a mobster at the age of 13, you know. So she sent me to a fine school and diligently helped me to finish that idiotic high. Then she sent me to the UK as someone told her it’s easier to earn the bachelor’s degree here. We’ll see”. The night was starry and the stars were blue and green, and were shivering in the distance. I watched Bill sleep for some time and then walked out. The air was full of peace and smell of onion-grass. On the stairs, Dad was sitting. He was reading a paper, a kind of that yellow press. Dad seemed so absorbed in reading that he did not even hear my steps. When he finally did, he shuddered, and – when he found it was me - sighed with relief. The paper in his hand seemed to tremble. He handed me his reading. NEPHEW CONS WIDOW OUT OF LIFE SAVINGS AND FLEES TO UK - I read there. From the very first page of the tabloid, Billie was smiling at me, with his open and charming smile. I tossed the paper aside and sat with my eyes closed for a moment. CONS….WIDOW…OUT…OF…LIFE…SAVINGS…FLEES…TO…UK was pounding in my head. I recalled Bill and imagined how he shrugs his shoulders in response to my agitation over the story in the rag. Then I again looked at the front page of the tabloid. In a while, I recalled the talk when Billie asked me to borrow a lump sum from the bank to fund our romantic travel to Tibet. “That will be easier for you, since I do not have UK citizenship,” he said. In a mere instant, my world collapsed. I ran deep into the garden sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. “Am I doomed to misfortune? Why is my life so full of lie and fake feelings, and so devoid of mutual love and sincerity?” As I was mourning over my failed love, I suddenly recalled my own ill-treatment of other people. By looking for glamour, beauty, and prestige and by being too dependent on what other people thought of me, I lost the very sense of human relationship. I thought of how I judged people by their appearance and status, how I betrayed friendships, and made use of my poor parents. An egotist by nature, I attracted the same egotist or even worse. I planned to build the world of happiness and understanding that I saw in between my parents, but neither I nor my sweetheart were able to do that. Our hearts were cold and they could not love, for “love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking…Love never fails” (1 Corinthians, 13: 4-8). “Love never fails,” I repeated to myself. And I suddenly recalled Tom, the best friend of my early years, my nurse, my protector, my generous and forgiving knight. Tom was really beautiful, probably the most beautiful person I have ever met. That was inside and all the rest did not matter. “Daddy”, I snuck into the bedroom, “How is Tom doing, Tom Williams, you know, “scarecrow”?” Dad was staring at me blankly. “Ah, Tom”, he said and rolled over, “Tom Williams died a month ago. I did not tell you because you were in Spain and so happy with your American friend.” Dad stressed the word ‘friend’. “They both died. There was a fire in the old hut. He got out of the burning part, but had to get back inside to help old Jack out. They both died”, Dad repeated. Commentary My life writing piece is related to the model of autobiography writing offered in Rosinsky’s “Write Your Own Autobiography”. In this manual, the author suggests that autobiographies should be written with some higher purpose or meaning (Rosinsky, 2008: 9). In relation to this, the autobiography I have written is about sharing my life experience with others, so that through my experience they could understand some eternal truths. In my case, this higher theme is love. To fully understand love, I refer to the passage from the Bible. In my life story, when I contrast my ill-treatment of people with that suggested in the New Testament, I find out I have never loved the way it should be. It helps me to realize that I lived as an egotist. To find my own writer’s voice in autobiography writing I had to read works by other authors. Just like Gary Paulsen and Sally Alexander, I used sentences with different rhythms. I believe it has helped me to make my life writing piece dynamic. In addition, my tone has been not at all playful, but rather serious, which makes it sound similar to that found in Paulsen’s and Alexander’s biography writings. For example, when writing about the relationship between my parents I use the sentences in the following way: “Dad could sometimes be strict with us, kids, but I would never hear him say something unpleasant to Mom. Mom – the same.” Naturally, I started with the generation of ideas, as suggested in the writing manual. Then I created the plan. This enabled me to arrange the writing in a logical manner. Yet, I changed my plan a bit during the writing process. Also, I decided to include dialogues to add some dynamics to my life writing piece. Besides, I wanted the audience to feel that particular character better through dialogues. For example, I have lots of dialogues at the end so that the story’s denouement is more expressive. Following the advice in Rosinsky’s manual, I attempted to help the audience experience the world I was telling about through describing it in bright detail and drawing on many senses (Rosinsky, 2008: 24) For example, I provide numerous associations and impressions of mine: “With wood behind their backs blackening and charring, both men looked as if they were about to be baked in a huge oven. The furious fire seemed to be reluctant to spare anything of the old barn and livestock inside”. Also, I use many adjectives to describe nature, which I believe, hints at my romantic self. For instance, “It was a marvellous hot day, the water in the river was crystal clear, with weedy bottom and hundreds of small fish swimming in it” or “The night was starry and the stars were blue and green, and were shivering in the distance”. All in all, it was a rewarding experience and I would like to see my life writing piece published. Reference List Rosinsky, NM 2008, Write your own autobiography. Capstone. Read More