The Lottery

A story about the actual human sacrifice for a community that lives in a small village is a sickening one and maybe a story that multiple people ignore. But the short story, “The Lottery,” by Shirley Jackson is exactly that, a tale about human death for the betterment of the harvest in the community. The story stuck me in a number of ways but Jackson’s tale did exactly what it set out to do. It was written to shock those who read it into a state of self reflection. The main character actually loses his wife to the sacrifice and rather than step up and make a claim to save her in the community gathering he simply lets her perish to the hands of tradition in the village. The story struck me because of the amount of apathy found throughout the people with regards to changing a tradition that many of them saw as timed.

            The fact that the town would not speak up about the time worn tradition that has taken a number of lives from the community. I am interested in the field of politics not only because of the interest in the subject, but I fully believe that when you are given the voice and the means to change those things that are wrong humans have the responsibility to fix it. The townspeople were all a part of the lottery and all had an equal opportunity to receive the death penalty Personal responsibility was lacking in the city and it led to the murder of yet another citizen for the sake of a good harvest. At what point do we need to say that something is wrong regardless of tradition and habits? I believe that the point is found when we realize we are doing something with no real logical reasoning or evidence behind our behavior.

            Life is comprised of decisions that we make and those decisions that affect us. We all have a duty to the people in our lives and ourselves to right the wrongs that we see. It left a taste of disappointment but also provides room for improvement in the group think that we see so often communities. Life is as good as we wish to make it. 

A Possession is a Treasure

                There are two things that I own that, if a fire ever broke out where these two things were, I would grab them and run before anything else. I would leave behind everything else if it came down to a choice. The two things are actually related and are from the same person. They are letters that were written to me in different times in my life and they were written by my father. The first one was a response to a letter I had written him when I switched schools for the first time in my life in the fourth grade. The second one is a letter he wrote me on the day of high school graduation. These two letters were things that enhanced the relationship with my father and have been a source of strength for me when life has been a bit more than I have been able to handle.

                As a young boy I was unable to understand change in my life especially those that took me from things that I loved like my best friend. The letter that I wrote to my parents was a personal note explaining that I was upset but trusted my parent’s choice. The letter I received stills touches me and moves me today. It was care and compassion shown in my father’s written words. It gave me comfort in different times of my life and caused me to lean on the wise words of a man that I viewed as my hero.

                The second letter was one that given to me as I came home from my high school graduation, diploma in hand. The letter spoke of the relationship that we shared and the plans for my future. It gave me his expectations and advice for the new world that I was looking to conquer. My father and I were always men who could have great conversations with one another, who could challenge each other and compete at all times. But we never had an emotional conversation about ourselves, probably the product of his childhood and my own. That letter did so much to fill those holes and gaps and really add to our relationship.

                Letters may seem trivial or material when it comes to things that can be remembered or other important documents. The letters to me though show the things that mean the most to me, my family. I will be forever grateful for the letters and I hope one day I can pass on a similar thing to my family. I fully believe that those letters have been some of the greatest things I do and will ever own. 

Teachers Change the World

Once in a while a person comes into your life and without even realizing it they change your life. Mine came from a teacher who, upon first meeting her, I loathed and dreaded going to see her every day in class. She was a terrifying mix of a genius, someone who expected so much from students, and demanded reflection from her students. Mrs. Vann was a teacher straight out of a children’s cartoon book with the scary eyes and the yelling voice and she probably smells bad. But Mrs. Vann did change my life for the better and honestly saved my college hopes.

            Coming into my sophomore year I was an average student at best. An apathetic attitude coupled with a young boy who thought he was intelligent enough to not care about the putting in real effort to academics; it was a dangerous combination. I ran through the beginning of the year in Mr. Vann’s AP World History class with my usual routine. I would always have good commentary and answers in classes but once it came to the essays and test I was not adequately prepared and my grade reflected my effort. Moving through the semester I had a meeting near the end of it to meet about a paper rewrite. I scored well on the paper and knew the rewrite would be an easy task for me. Yet I was still dreading the get together with my teacher. The meeting was brief and blunt and culminated with the phrase that 4 years later still defines a large part of motivation and passion. “Austin, you are a great talent and it obvious that you are intelligent, but you are the biggest waste of talent I have encountered in my teaching career.”

            Humbling is too kind of a word to describe my feelings after this meeting. This statement came from a person in my life that I respected a large amount and would never question a lot of her statements because I trusted her opinions. She was intelligent and driven and garnered my respect regardless of her social graces. Due to this respect the words stung. I went into Christmas break absolutely livid because of my perceived insult. I decided to stick to Vann. I wrote the rest of that year with a purpose and studied as hard as I could to prove that I would be the mark for that class. I would be the measuring stick for my class. It began to spill over to my classes. It spilled over to the rest of my life. It had infected my mind and I knew I had to work for every point that I got that year.

            At the end of the year we met again to discuss the AP test I was about to take. The conversation began with a bit of joking and laughter and I fully admitted to her that I worked hard to prove her that she had made a mistake with her comment. She did not say that she did it to inspire me, she did not say I proved her wrong. She simply said “you have a long way to go, don’t ever lost sight of that. No matter how far you go, you’ve still got a long way to go.” I realized that she was right. I am never the perfect version of myself and she led me to constantly evaluate myself and work without pause. I still have a long way to go with my work ethic and my intellectual capacity. But I can honestly say without her I would not be in college and would not be as motivated. She changed my life and I owe her the recognition that I can give her and to pass on her story to others, so others may know. 

The first Time I heard #$@*

            Damn. A word that is universally heard around the United States as a curse word and the only I could say in a paper and feel okay using to tell a story. Words are the basis of communication for most the world and are used to the point that many words lose their value and stigmatism. When I was a young boy I remember going to work with my father around the age of seven or eight and hearing my first slew of curse words.

            The memories are hazy to say the least but I remember going with my father one day after school to his office to pick up some papers that he needed to work on at home. At the time I didn’t know but now I am fully aware of the fact that I was walking straight into a boys club. I moved through the security with my father and the entire receptionist’s panel was pleasant. We moved into his office and he totally me to stay put in his chair while he went to a locker to go grab some things. Me being the respectful young son I was, I listened till my curiosity got the best of me. I was surrounded by big police men with their guns and badges and was ready to learn and talk to all of the people I could see. I walked around office making sure I stayed close to the chair that I was attached to. As I walked around the office I got a bit lost in the maze of people and found myself in a lounge room of sorts with people eating their dinner and completely unaware of my presence. I wasn’t even listening to the people in the room when all of sudden I heard a few four letter words I had never heard before. Without a moment notice my father arrived and swept me up under his arms and said to me, “son never repeat the things you heard right there.” As any curious boy would ask I said, “Dad what do those words mean anyways?” He said to me, “those words are for people who cannot think hard enough to come up with better things to say son.”

            The first time I heard those words was more importantly the first time I heard my father have a real concern about my innocence. It taught me a lot of things but in hindsight the best part of that experience was that exposure. By having the initial experience with the protection of my father it was nice to be held in the arms of my father while learning the ways that the world works. The first time I ever heard a cuss word was the first time I realized how much I was protected. 

Ole West Texas

I firmly believe that a man, a guitar, and the open country of west Texas can supply an endless amount of great ideas, thoughts, and revelations. Before the beginning of my freshman year of college I took a leave of absence from my job of two years, much to the chagrin and worry of my parents. I then got together with my four best friends and we traveled to west Texas in one white 2000 4-runner that had a hell of a lot of character and heart to it. We began our travels as any intelligent melodramatic 18 year old boys did, we began with as many songs and games as we could think up to play in the car while talking about every person we knew collectively. Boys like to think they are different than girls when it comes to gossiping. In a sense we are, although both sexes do gossip men tend to do it and then confront the man about it or just forget about it. Women they never forget and never confront until absolutely necessary. Anyways, the journey began with a drive that the five of us were more than ready for. We had known one another a minimum of 4 years with some of us having known one another almost 8 years. We took classes together, did sports and activities together, and knew everything there was to know about one another. But we did this trip for a much larger reason than one last who rah before we began college at five different universities. We did this to learn about ourselves in a much more rich way.

            The five of us had always been religious, insightful and generally educated members of society. But we knew that college would test every measure of our values, call into question every moral and probably change them. So we arrived in El Paso Texas to drop off our car and begin our quest. We knew we wanted to hike so we put together some packs full of camping gear and clothes, pulled together some cash and we began our trek to somewhere. We hiked for hours each day often times playing guitar when we took breaks and writing constantly the different things that came to us during our trek. The notebook I had I can say was filled up with different questions, thoughts, and emotions that will not be shown to anyone for quite some time. Our nights consisted of talking about what we thought all day or just simply playing guitar and listening to the wilderness that was so raw and uncensored. We knew that we were living a life that was not plausible or sustainable. So we began to head back after a few weeks of this trip and eventually arrived home much to the joy of our parents who in hindsight were the most facilitating parents I could ask for. They allowed me to do this trip to discover something and to do it with my best friends by my side.

            The lessons that I took away from this adventure are numerous and dear to me. But one overarching umbrella that all my thought involved or pertained too was the idea of togetherness. As solitary as I have been in my life at times and as alone as we were on that trip, I never got over the fact that so much of life is interaction. Humans can’t be self sustained; we need one another in some facet of our lives. The image that will never leave me is waking up to a sunrise on the top of a large hill, looking down on the world beneath me and the sun penetrating my eyes. The morning dew being lifted in front of me, the earth waking up all around me. All I thought was this is meant to be shared.  

Be Ready for Change

            Terror, shock, and pain. The best words that can used to describe the moment where my life changed. Getting up and trying to stumble on through the seconds and collapsing under my own weight was the least of my mental concerns. I could feel every ounce of blood coursing through my body and I knew instantly what had happened. I had felt that failure, heard that pop, and knew instantly I was done. I knew that all the plans I had made in the past 2 years were done and that a new plan had to be reformatted. The sweat was dripping down my brows after only a few moments and the tears followed soon thereafter. Within a few moments my entire career was over and the time came to start anew. It was going to be a long ride.

            Coming into my senior year of football I was one of the more highly recruited defensive players in my area and in the state. I could play any positions and was young enough to learn the rest. I had offers from numerous schools and still held out for a few, hoping my senior year would be the evidence they needed to offer me a chance to play. I was athletic, but never blinding anyone with my talent. I was known far more for my intelligence and relentless hustle rather than an overwhelming skill set. The first game of my senior year was televised and the ESPN cameras were everywhere. I knew I was ready to showcase my abilities on the biggest stage; I was vying for every moment on camera where I could later show to colleges. I walked out of that opening video with every muscle in my body relaxed and poised, ready to make a statement. I went on kickoff that week to get the ground running that week and avoid a sluggish start.  The ball was kicked and like a bullet from a gun, I felt an explosion of energy and momentum. Moving into our first defensive series it would be a good day. The lights shone brightly on our eyes as 20,000 people came to watch us play. The very first play was a power trap play where the fullback led blocks through the hole, and then he is followed by a pulling guard who attacks first immediate threat. Finally the running back should come through with a blinding pace after having an initial 6 or 7 yards to begin his pace. My job is to stop that. I saw the fullback and immediately gave way, a move where you get small and let him glance by you. I did it with precision and then came the lineman who I was able to keep off of me as I began to go for the first tackle. But they had a new ripple. I had never experienced it and it cost me my dream.

            The fullback blew past me and came around in the space in the whole and chop blocked me, or attacked my outside knee with his helmet, and the lineman simply shoved me into the block. It is technically illegal but it is commonly done where the referees cannot see the play. As I felt the shearing pain shoot up my knee I began to pivot to avoid the hit further. But as I pivoted I moved into the offensive lineman who drove me to the ground while my cleat was stuck under the weight of the fullback. After the two assassins had cut out my knee I stood up only to collapse instantaneously. I could not support any part of my body and I hobbled after the fleeing running back. He was long gone and a few vultures from the other team came and knocked my down yet again.  I heard the infamous crack in my knee and knew it was my acl at the least if not more. I waited lying on the ground looking up at the lights and thinking, there it goes. I remember telling myself that I could overcome it and fight it. I said it to everyone that would listen for a while. But they knew and so did I, I was done with this game.  

Fathers and Sons

     A son’s admiration for his father can be one of the most defining characteristics and molding things in a young man’s life. Personally my father has had a huge impact on my life and continues to today. Ernest Hemingway’s character and subject of a number of short stories, Nick Adams, is a man who grew up with a father that failed to be supportive or constructive in a lot of ways for Nick. It was obvious that this relationship was tough for Nick who even contemplated killing his father at one point in time. The story Fathers and Sons though shows the relationship that a grown Nick Adams has with his own son and his son’s views of his grandfather and father. The story touched me because of my own father and the idea that men are formed by their father and often times pick their habits and lifestyle. The relationship between a father and his son can be a beautiful and positive one or it can drastically change the young man and lead to a number of problems and issues for the young man. Nick Adams protected his son for the love of his son and in spite of his father. He truly matured at this moment and decided that he would not be defined by his father once again; his father would not win again.

                Sons can be influenced by their fathers in a number of ways. I know growing up I would never sit like my dad, use analogies like him, or even look like him to name a few. To date I now have a number of mannerism and habits that he too has, I speak more like him every day and am beginning to grey like my father did at a young age. Regardless of how I felt, I was meant to be like him and I had little control to change it. Knowing my relationship and the traits that I have picked up from my father, it makes Nick Adams relationship that much more interesting. Nick had a father that taught him little of substance as a young man and was never truly a positive impact on him. This could have easily spilled over to his son and caused Nick to be an apathetic and poor father, but Nick chose a different route.

                Nick’s son is curious about his grandfather in the car ride with his father and Nick is faced with a choice about what to reveal about his father. Nick flashbacks to moments in his life where his father had an opportunity to be a positive example but falls short. In one moment his father teaches Nick about grotesque sexual things that no young man should have to learn about. Nick flashes forward back to his son and realizes he is faced with a choice. To tell his son the truth about his grandfather or to leave his son his innocence, an innocence that Nick was not afforded to him. Nick simply tells his son that his father was a great shot and doesn’t tell his son about the things that his father lacked. In Nick’s own way it was a display of love for his son and a moment of reconciliation with his father by not allowing his father’s image to ruin his sons.  The act was selfless, humble, and filled with love. Nick finally showed the maturity that escaped him for a large portion of his life. It demonstrated not only the bad affects of a father son relationship gone poorly, but it also showed the blossoming of a newer relationship between Nick and his son that has promise because Nick has learned from the mistakes of his father.