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.

Hills like White Elephants

Vague intensity wrapped up in a conversation seemingly about nothing but really about a very dark deep topic. Hemingway wanted to tell a story within a story; a dialogue that from a passerby perspective may have been nothing more than a couple who were in a bit of a quarrel. But what is not seen is the undertone of the conversation, the emotions that are subdued, and the resolution at the end of the story. When reading this story it is easy to overlook the fact that there are allusions to the real point of their dialogue that show the seriousness of the chat. It is as if the reader gets the story with Hemingway sitting at a bar watching this whole encounter take place and giving us the facts. He wants us to figure out what was happening, or conclude that there was nothing happening at all.

                The two members of this story, the American man and assumed lover of Jig, are at a train stop and simply conversing about a topic that they do not name. The conversation ends with Jig accepting whatever proposition the American has made for her. They then move on with their lives and continue through in their travels. The indicators of abortion are there and rather than bore you with literary techniques that Hemingway uses I will say that he conveys the issue of abortion using both allusions, symbols, and the setting around them.  I am far more interested in the characters ability to speak about abortion in this sort of setting, and the impact it has on Jig, juxtaposed to the lack of impact it seems to have on the American.

                Psychologically abortion is a terrifyingly detrimental action to partake in on a woman’s body and her mind. It is the separation of a piece of her and the destruction of that piece. In my opinion the baby becomes a “person,” immediately after conception and is therefore a person who can be afforded such rights. I say this only to preface my next point which is the lack of impact or emotional shift the abortion seems to have on the American man is startling and telling of Hemingway I believe. In the numerous Hemingway novels I have read the Americans are never given good portraits in society. It may be the distaste Hemingway has after his extensive travel but I believe that it is his commentary on the plight of human dialogue and feelings. He makes it evident that the two characters are having a discussion or chat about basically nothing while at the same time making a life alerting decision. He also shows the man pushing for the abortion and Jig simply conceding at the end. It is a frightening scene to think about because it also implies that these sorts of discussions can happen all around us due to the fact that people are talking to one another but not really conversing. They are simply stating things at each other and not being a fully active participant, rather simply waiting for their turn.

                Hills like White Elephants struck me because of the talk of abortion and the impact it had on Jig. But to me the most startling thing that I took away was the lack of real communication between the two characters. Conversation is allowed to have emotions and feelings, it is allowed to be blunt and coarse at times, it is also supposed to be constructive and productive rather than just existing. The plight of the human voice was a major theme in the story, and I believe that it inevitably led to the abortion. A simple act like communicating that has gone awry led to a devastating conclusion.

The Cask of Amontillado

Catharsis is a powerful feeling that can dictate actions and feelings beyond logic. It is also a dangerous feeling as it can cause actions based on vengeance, intense emotions, or even trivial slights that may be interpreted in a certain way. In The Cask of Amontillado the author, Edgar Allan Poe, stuns audiences by telling a simple story of a murder from one man to another. The killing is justified according to the main character by a slight or insult the victim made to the murderer. As a first time reader, it evoked so much emotion and terror out of me and led to comparisons of other more modern expressions of seeking revenge.

                The two main characters in the story are ironically named, Fortunato and Montresor. Fortunato is an acquaintance of the man Montresor and as the reader is told, slighted his friend in some way. The two men run into one another at a carnival and Fortunato is inebriated wearing a jester’s costume. After some small talk, he is led by Montresor into the catacombs with a promise of a rare drink, amontillado. Once down there it becomes known to the reader that Montresor has led Fortunato to his death and in there chains him and leaves him to die. The original reading of this story left me confused and intrigued. How a man could justify the killing of another man has always vexed me, let alone in a barbaric and inhumane way that Fortunato was left to die.  The first striking characteristic was the idea of a way a man should die. The fact that he was left chained to the side of a wall in a catacomb tells the reader what the assailant thought of his victim. It is a tortuous way to die, leaving the audience to believe that he must have had something larger than a slight towards the victim. Entombing his victim also leaves open the idea that the murder can revisit the scene. Montresor is not seeking a justification or public humiliation at the expense of Fortunato, he has a vendetta against the man is actively seeking to quench the blood lust in his own heart. It brought me to modern examples that are similar to the feelings Montresor felt.

                In the movies Gladiator and Patriot the two main characters are enthralled for their hunt of justice and revenge leading them into lives that they were far removed from. In Gladiator, a general of a Roman legion makes an enemy out of the Caesar, who has the general’s family killed and his title stripped from him. He spends the rest of his life waiting and plotting to kill the Caesar and eventually accomplishes his task. Similarly in the movie Patriot an American farmer during the Revolutionary War has one of his sons killed brutally by a British soldier. After his death, the farmer picks back up his fighting ways and brings together a group of men who decimate the British supply lines, moral, and personal. It leads to a fight scene on the battle field between the American farmer and the British soldier. In the scene the reasons why the American is fighting are restated, because of the death of his sons. After killing the British soldier the troops press on and the Americans begin to rebuild their lives. The similarities are present in the all out determination to seek their vengeance. Beyond that the reasons are different in all three stories, as well as the way the men receive satisfaction and justice.  

                The stories immediately jumped to mind because of the main characters dealing with controversy. The idea that a man would do whatever it takes to get the vindication that he feels is needed in a situation is a trait that has mixed reviews. Although it can be a respectable one by some, it may also be seen as immature and immoral to others. The reason I bring up the comparisons to the movies, is to show that immaturity and lack of morals in Montresor. The man not only killed a man, albeit a fool, but he also did so in a calculated way. Montresor knew exactly what he wanted to do and how he was going to mock Fortunato as he was laying the last brick to the coffin. I believe in just and righteous rage as it pertains to family and loved ones, but that blind egocentric killing was a way to avoid the maturity that it takes to overcome that obstacle. Men are defined by their actions, but even more so by their reactions.

A Lesson in Humility

What are we to do when the entire world thinks we are snobs? At the collapse of the stock market and the plummeting value of our currency the world felt its ramifications as well. The Middle East in particular immediately began changing prices and looking for further buyers in order to curb their American market loss. As I learned in my latest meeting there are a lot of harsh feelings in other parts of the world about the way the American people dealt with the failing industry and the affects it had globally.

            Tara and I moved through our normal Friday lunch with speed as we both had a number of topics to discuss with one another. The food was barely down when the intense conversation began, and inhibitions left the room. Cutting words began to flood the table and cause the tension and emotions to rise. It began with a question about my thoughts on the United States dependence on the foreign oil industry, and whether or not the nation was in a war based on the oil. Tara incessantly stated that “oil was the reason, is currently the reason, and will always be the reason for the decimation of the Middle East.” I was taken aback and quickly tried to make the argument that the United States gets most of its oil from Saudi Arabia and attempted to concede the point that the American government may have had some economic interest in the war. I knew though that this was not a battle I could win. The moment I made one concession more accusations flew out at me, nearly culminating in an outright statement that the United States of America had declared a holy war on the Middle East. The strength and conviction in her voice is what made the entire encounter so startling.

            With an unshakeable belief and unmoving thoughts, Tara had made statements of fact in her eyes and there was no room for any sort of gray area. The conversation began to die off into more pleasant topics, but the lingering disagreement filled my mind. The fact that she could state so simply and powerfully that the world I believed and the reality that she knew were miles away from one another. I realized that no matter my thoughts or opinions I could not tell her what I thought or try to convince her of what I believed for one simple reason. I had not lived her life and had not lived during this time. I did not grow up in this environment nor did I know people who had grown up there. I was an outsider trying to make peace with myself about what I knew.  The media constricted my knowledge and more importantly my understanding of the culture. My American ignorance was made embarrassingly clear by our conversation, and it taught me a lesson of humility in that moment that I hope to carry. I am not in a position to dictate to others what I believe to be happening or what may be right, our country might be in the same position today. 

It’s Just like Movies…

It’s Just like Movies…

Watch any movie with Arabic or Middle Eastern people driving around in these countries. For the first time, the stereotype was correct.  Nour decided that today she wanted to take me to an Arabic restaurant so I could better understand parts of her homeland. The conversation in the car was short and sporadic due to my horror of her driving.  Weaving in and out, intentionally cutting people off, driving 80 mph in a 50 mph limit area, these are just some of the things that were considered normal to Nour.  These terrifying encounters continued until we finally came to stop at this place that looked as though the roof was about to fall off of it. She told me to trust here and to “prepare yourself for a little bit… of ahh… culture.” She was mistaken, it was not a bit of culture but a flood of new sensations and sights that was incredibly unprepared for and it showed in my first face.

                The typical confused American that visits a new country in the movies and is utterly lost and almost a little scared. Again the stereotype was correct as I was exactly that upon entering this restaurant. Restaurant is a generous term; it was essentially walking into a part of the Middle East. I realized that not only was I the overwhelming minority in the venue but, Nour had recognized my apprehension and begun to laugh. She could sense my fear and knew that I was in the best of mind. We were seated by our waiter who was a plump and kind man but spoke exclusively Arabic to Nour as he was delighted to find a fellow Arabic speaker. He often times glanced at me and looked with an opening expression but was still gathering his judgment on me.  He left after Nour and I ordered our drinks and she began to explain some Arabic eating customs to me. “Austin if you do not like something do not continue to eat it, tell me you hate it. I will not cry over it,” a blunt sentence uttered from a less than open woman.

                As we began our discourse about the menu I realized that she was so entertained by confusion. When we went over food items she told me Arabic food was spicy, I stated that growing up my grandmother had always given me spicy foods and that I was more than used to, trying to assert the fact that I was not the typical American. I would not be lost in this world. We began to munch on our appetizers and they were so large, even by American standards, but I learned it is because most Arabs don’t eat breakfast and they eat lunch around 4 or 5 therefore lunch has to be large. For some it is the only meal of the day. We moved through the meal quickly as the belly dancers approached the table and danced for a few minutes. Nour then asked me “why is sex so open and easy in America, in my home that is a travesty and strictly punished.” What a lunch time conversation.  So I began to explain how our television programs, film, and media expose us and that Americans are far more open to it because of the lack of guidelines for exposure thus instilling it in us as a young age. But this was enough. Nour wanted to know why we all had sex. I again had to explain that we don’t, but the ones who do have sex are far more vocal than those who abstain or do not have it for whatever reason.  The food came out and was delicious although I did cry from the spiciness (Mexican spicy has nothing on the Arabs). We drove back to TCU and she believes that all she showed me was food and a new world. But that is not what I learned.

                Walking into that room I realized the thoughts and views the world has on our nation and people. We are viewed as the scared, shy, and ignorant group with regards to foreign nations and people. The world sees us as men and women who live our lives in pure ignorant bliss and are terrified of what we don’t understand. That we are a people that are not of the cultural intellect to carry on conversations and match thoughts with ours around the world because we know nothing of their world. The world believes that we get lost when there is a different language or food presented to us, and that we are found constantly in a state of obliviousness when abroad.  The only Americans may return to the promise land where we are atop the world in intellect, culture, society, industry, and all other facts of life is to learn of the world we live in as a nation and to again develop the work ethic that it requires to learn from them.  Just like the movies, that is the only way to return to the promise land. At least for this wide eyed bewildered American.