final post

A New Beginning

It was a clear, blue sky and sunny summer afternoon up in the forested backcountry of Maine. I was blond haired, thirteen years old, standing at a height of five foot four and filled with more enthusiasm than a hot air balloon filled with helium. Today, July 25, 2003 would be the first day of living with my yet to be known, but new camp family. There I sat in the camp van all pale faced and shivering internally with the feeling of ice running through my veins. Never have I been so nervous. I asked myself the questions “Is this a good idea, will I be able to withstand this place for 49 days in a region completely unknown to me.” As I unload the van, I take my first two steps onto the soil, taking in a large breath of fresh New England air, exhaling with a sigh of relief. Upon planting my feet on the ground and taking a panoramic view of the camp, I instantly get a good vibes as to what Kawanhee has to offer. I am quick to realize that this place called Kawanhee is filled with brotherhood and tradition, and right away I want to make my mark to become a part of it.

            Like a stranger at a party, I turned to the only person I knew for guidance, Taylor Van Landingham, my good friend from back home who told me about Kawanhee. Taylor stood at the height of five foot eight, blond haired, walked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo, and was my partner in crime when it came to doing stuntman type activities. Part of the reason Taylor convinced me to come to this place, was because of the ropes course and the weekend trips taken for hiking sections of the Appalachian Trail. Back in Bexley, our hometown you could find Taylor and I using up our daytime hours climbing random structures for the sheer pleasure of reaching nearly unattainable heights. Taylor would later grow up to maintain the same type of personality Quagmire from Family Guy possesses.  

For the first day, I decided that I would use Taylor as a crutch for the time being to introduce me to some people. Back at his lodge, I met a few of his lodge mates, but no one too important to make a very strong first impression. “Hey yo what’s up,” are the first words I hear as I enter Taylor’s cabin. I tilt my head 90 degrees and look up into the rafters of the cabin only to be bombarded by a swinging body that plops to the floor with a loud thud. The body happened to belong an extremely energetic boy named Jose, who was one of Taylor’s lodge mates from the previous year. Upon planting his two feet into the ground, Jose instantly greets Taylor with a great big hug followed by a quick and friendly pat on the back.  After seeing the strong bond that Taylor had to his lodge mates, I decided that I wanted that and realized that all I needed to do was build up some courage and introduce myself to my own lodge mates.

            As I approached my lodge, I was greeted to the sound of Puerto Rican rap and three individuals tossing their pocketknives at a cut up cardboard box. The three individuals were each wearing baggy jeans, a red headband and their own personalized soccer jersey. I felt like I had been dropped into some kind of trial system for a new and up coming Puerto Rican gang. Luckily, I dropped any biased idea that I had and was quick to introduce myself to them as A.J., the new guy. The three of them were named Carlos, Luis, and Gabby. Only Carlos would be my new lodge mate, however the other two would later become good friends of mine on the camp Kawanhee soccer team. After exchanging personal information to each other, Carlos walked me into the cabin to meet the rest of my lodge mates. Although it didn’t seem too significant at the time, I now look back at that first day of camp and realize that that day helped evolve me into the type of person that I am today. That day was the first true test of forcing me to break free from my normal element, to be more outgoing, and more willing to become part of something new.

“Brother’s” Not Friends

The cabin, which was my new home for the summer, was one of only three cabins built back in the 1921, the year that Kawanhee was established. It resembled the log cabin from Little House on the Prairie and could hold seven bunk beds along with three single beds for each counselor. As I strolled around the inside of the cabin, I was quick to notice that there was just this one kid; lanky, black haired with large circular glasses, wearing short athletic shorts, a warn out Cleveland Browns shirt and had a space between his front two teeth big enough to squeeze a grape through. I’ll never forget this, after I introduced myself as A.J., he instantly sat up from his cot and responded with a “Yo what’s up, I’m Dan.” Immediately after greeting me with the “what’s up,” he pounded his chest twice with his fist, then kissed his finger-tips just like Sammy Sosa of the Cubs used to do after he hit his homeruns. Meeting Dan helped make me feel more at home and it was made clear to me that we would be close friends after he informed me that he was an Ohio native and a proud supporter of Cleveland sports.

Dan was one of the better people to know around camp, he knew everyone and had been there since he was seven years old, not to mention he had two older brothers and a Dad that had also attended camp. After getting to know Dan a lot better, we started hanging out a lot and he would be the one who introduced me to everyone I needed to know. My relationship with Dan was more than just friends, we seemed almost like twins born to the same mother, and everything we did we did together. I still to this day keep strong ties with Dan. He currently goes to Brown University and every winter we get together with a group of Kawanheeians to perform the traditional Camp Kawanhee Bass Rock walk which consists of a ¾ mile walk across the Camps frozen Lake Web to the center rock, Bass Rock. The walk has been going on since the 1920’s, and it is the sheer beauty of the Lake, with the surrounding mountain range as to why the founding Franks Brothers decided to establish the camp back in 1921. With little money and strong ambition, the Frank’s brothers took out a loan for $5,000, purchased 60 acres of land and had recruited 16 boys to start off the Kawanhee tradition. Unfortunately both the Franks brothers are now deceased, but I’m sure if they were here today they would be proud to see what has become of there beloved camp.

 

Give A Little to Get a Little

After getting a better feel for camp, I decided to venture around a bit on my own and tryout some new activities that Kawanhee had to offer. A boy by the name of Johnny Senngalmann was riding in the boat the first time I ever water-skied at Kawanhee, so he and the others in the boat got a front row seat to all the action. I showcased my skills by starting out on two ski’s, then dropped one mid run leading into a slalom ski, from there, I lifted one of my feet off the ski performing a spread eagle, a difficult trick that involves holding the rope with one foot, while the arms are spread out in the air like a bird. After my run, Johnny rushed out of the boat and pulled me up out of the water onto the ski dock. While on the dock, attempting to take off my water vest, Johnny, completely shocked and all, got up in my face and said, “Where the hell did you learn to do that, I’ve been skiing since I was six and couldn’t even imagine attempting something like that.” I responded to him by letting him know that I used to go to another camp, where I devoted most of my time water skiing. Thinking back on this event makes me smile, I remember the internal sense of pride that I felt after meeting Johnny. I felt as if I were some type of a celebrity with my most supportive fan Johnny asking me how he can be like me. At the time, Johnny was kind of plump and had long shaggy brown hair like a singer from some 1980’s rock group. Before I ever attended camp, Johnny had been known as the best water skier at camp for his age group, but that would soon all change. If it were not for my eagerness to get out and explore my surroundings, Johnny and I may have never found the link that relates us to one another, thus causing our relationship not to be so strong.

 As camp rolled on, Johnny and I found another activity that we each really enjoyed. We would spend the majority of our nights playing soccer after dinner, however we didn’t play the traditional way, we played a game called “World Cup,” which involved one goalie and everyman playing for them self to be the first to score. Johnny for the most part taught me how to get by at camp and in exchange I helped interest him into eventually trying out for his high school soccer team.

Fortunately for myself, Johnny and Dan already had quite a strong bond, but when I came into the mixture, I intensified the bond making the three of us inseparable no matter what we did. Like everyone, I’ve been told not to brag or make myself look too flashy, but when it came to the three of us, we were the poster children to everything. Being the leaders that we were, one day after church ceremony, we decided that Sundays are a bit too relaxed, so we came up with an idea to run a four dollar per team two-on-two basketball tournament that resulted in the winning team of the tournament taking home the grand total. I unfortunately never ended up winning the tournament, however still to this day younger campers have carried on our tradition and it has taken on quite a bit of popularity. Although I didn’t attend camp this last summer, I was fortunate to visit it for a week and like always, I competed in the Sunday basketball event. Upon playing in the event I had flashback seconds after I made my first shot over some young camper probably 13 years of age. The shot brought me back to when I was 13 and used to compete in the event, however instead of being the young 13 year old being shot on, I was the one making the shot, it gave me the sense of some imaginary reigns being passed over throughout time.

Yes we were leaders, but that doesn’t mean that we always made the right decisions. Back in 2005 after a formal dance with our sister camp, Camp Arcadia, Dan, Johnny, another camp friend that happened to want to get in on the festivities Bono, and myself all decided that just having a dance didn’t give us enough time to hang out with the lovely ladies of Camp Arcadia. We devised a plan and executed it perfectly. As the girls were rolling out of camp in there white Dodge Caravans, we decided to chase their vans completely butt-naked hoping that for some reason they would stop and come back for more. One of the only memories that I still have from the event was bright flashes from cameras and repeated laughter followed by the girls camp director yelling, “Girls say goodbye to your boyfriends, because you won’t be seeing them again.” As it ended up the idea wasn’t a very good one, weeks later we all were given mailings of our naked pictures and still to this day there has never been another formal dance. As for Johnny, Dan, Bono, and I, we were all punished by having to personally write an apology letter to every girl that attended the dance. If there is anything that I will always remember from this event, it is this, while planning out the task, I asked Dan “Why should we streak after their vans to gain attentions?” Without hesitation, he responded, “Dude you gotta give a lil, to get a lil,” and on those words alone I was sold. Being the age that I was, my hormones were just flaring and any excuses to do something out of the ordinary to impress a girl just seemed like the ultimate thing to do. Even with that said about my hormones, I still to this day am a bit puzzled as to why I par took in those shenanigans, the only explanation I can think of is because of the kinship that we all shared. Kinship is special in the sense that it’s contained in the definition of brotherhood, with definition of brotherhood stating the feeling of kinship with the closeness to a group of people.

Connections

Although Paul Bonasera had attended camp every year that I was there, it was not until after the streaking incident that we really started to hang out. Upon arriving in the summer of 2006, Bono was the first person to greet me back at camp and it was that summer that we hung out and really got to know each other. He was a year older than me, but we both possessed the same rank of being a Junior Counselor and that summer we were counterparts to one another. Paul, or Bono as we all called him was a fairly quiet person, he stood at about five foot eight, had black hair and a major passion for music. I remember spending hours in the front row seat of the van exchanging all the knowledge we had once acquired about Notorious B.I.G. on our long and drooling drive to Bar harbor. Today Paul continues to research music and he even has an amazing musicblog called “Paulbono.com.” From one family to another, my “brother,” Bono, also attends Ohio University and he recruited me into his fraternity Pi Kappa Alpha. Inadvertently, Pi Kappa Alpha also happens to be the same fraternity that my dad was a part of back in the day at Bowling Green State University. It’s really pretty amazing how small this world is and just knowing the right people can open you up to connections you thought you never had.

 

Utopia

“One summer, along about 1904, my father rented a camp on a lake in Maine and took us all there for the month of August…that vacation was a success and from then on none of us ever thought there was any place in the world like that lake in Maine”-E.B. White.

As for myself, I have been associated with the brotherhood of camp Kawanhee for the last six years and not a day goes by that I don’t use some skill that I have acquired from there, or have some thought about a memory that relates to my experiences here in college. From the outside it is often hard to imagine why a place like Kawanhee is so important to me. People often refer to camps as a place for parents to drop their children off for the summer, a place for gay kids, or a place for fat kids to lose weight, but to me Kawanhee is my utopia, it is the place that I grew up and it will always be a part of me. I hope that everyone has there own personal type of Kawanhee. This is now the point as to where I wish you all a farewell and in the words of the recently deceased Kawanhee legend, Herbert Birch, “May there always be a Kawanhee.”

            

memoir

A New Beginning

It was a clear, blue sky and sunny summer afternoon up in the forested backcountry of Maine. I was blond haired, thirteen years old, standing at a height of five foot four and filled with more enthusiasm than a hot air balloon filled with helium. Today, July 25, 2003 would be the first day of living with my yet to be known, but new camp family. As I unload the van, I take my first two steps onto the soil, taking in a large breath of fresh New England air, exhaling with a sigh of relief. I instantly realize that this place called Kawanhee is filled with brotherhood and tradition, and right away I realize that I want to make my mark and be a part of it.

            Like a stranger at a party, I turned to the only person I knew for guidance, Taylor Van Landingham, my good friend from back home who told me about Kawanhee. I decided that I would use him as a crutch for the time being to introduce me to some people. Back at his lodge, I met a few of his lodge mates, but no one too important to make a very strong first impression. “Hey yo what’s up,” are the first words I hear as I enter Taylor’s cabin. I tilt my head 90 degrees and look up into the rafters of the cabin only to be bombarded by a swinging body that plops to the floor with a loud thud. The body happened to be a boy named Jose, who was one of Taylor’s lodge mates from the previous year. Upon planting his two feet into the ground, he instantly greets Taylor with a great big hug followed by a quick and friendly pat on the back.  After seeing the strong bond that Taylor had to his lodge mates, I decided that I wanted that and realized that all I needed to do was build up some courage and introduce myself to my own lodge mates.

            As I approached my lodge, I was greeted to the sound of Puerto Rican rap and three individuals tossing their pocketknives at a cut up cardboard box. The three individuals were each wearing baggy jeans, a red headband and their own personalized soccer jersey. I felt like I had been dropped into some kind of trial system for a new and up coming Puerto Rican gang. Luckily, I dropped any biased idea that I had and was quick to introduce myself to them as A.J., the new guy. The three of them were named Carlos, Luis, and Gabby. Only Carlos would be my new lodge mate, however the other two would later become good friends of mine on the camp Kawanhee soccer team. After exchanging personal information to each other, Carlos walked me into the cabin to meet the rest of my lodge mates. Although it didn’t seem too significant at the time, I now look back at that first day of camp and realize that that day helped evolve me into the type of person that I am today. That day was the first true test of forcing me to break free from my normal element, to be more outgoing, and more willing to become part of something new.

“Brother’s” Not Friends

The cabin, which was my new home for the summer, was built back in the 1920’s. It resembled the log cabin from Little House on the Prairie and could hold seven bunk beds along with three single beds for each counselor. As I strolled around the inside of the cabin, I was quick to notice that there was just this one kid; lanky, black haired with large circular glasses, wearing short athletic shorts, a warn out Cleveland Browns shirt and had a space between his front two teeth big enough to squeeze a grape through. I’ll never forget this, after I introduced myself as A.J., he instantly sat up from his cot and responded with a “Yo what’s up, I’m Dan.” Immediately after greeting me with the “what’s up,” he pounded his chest twice with his fist, then kissed his finger-tips just like Sammy Sosa of the Cubs used to do after he hit his homeruns. After informing me that he was from Olentangy, Ohio and was an avid Cleveland fan, I new instantly that he would be one of my better friends at camp.

Dan was definitely one of the better people to get to know around camp. He knew everyone and had been there since he was seven years old, not to mention he had two older brothers and a Dad that had also attended camp. After getting to know Dan a lot better, we started hanging out a lot and he would be the one who introduced me to everyone I needed to know. My relationship with Dan was more than just friends, we seemed almost like twins born to the same mother, and everything we did we did together. I still to this day keep strong ties with Dan. He currently goes to Brown University and every winter we get together to perform the traditional Camp Kawanhee Bass Rock walk (A walk across the camps frozen lake to a large center rock). It’s kind of a hard relationship to explain, but after living with the same person for a long period of time and going through the hardships and good times, you as a person develop a bond with that individual stronger than any friendship, even stronger than the relationship you posses with your best friend whom you have known for your entire life.

Give a Little to get a Little

Another one of my good friends from camp was Johnny Sengelmann. At the time, Johnny was kind of plump and had long shaggy brown hair like a singer from some 1980’s rock group. Johnny and I got to know each other through water skiing. Before I ever attended camp, Johnny had been known as the best water skier at camp for his age group, but that would soon all change. Coincidently, Johnny was riding in the boat the first time I ever water-skied at Kawanhee, so he got a front row seat to all the action. I showcased my skills by starting out on two ski’s, then dropped one mid run leading into a slalom ski, from there, I lifted one of my feet off the ski performing a spread eagle, a difficult trick that involves holding the rope with one foot, while the arms are spread out in the air like a bird. After my run, Johnny rushed out of the boat and pulled me up out of the water onto the ski dock. While on the dock, attempting to take off my water vest, Johnny got up in my face and said, “Where the hell did you learn to do that, I’ve been skiing since I was six and couldn’t even imagine attempting something like that.” I responded to him by letting him know that I used to go to another camp, where I devoted most of my time water skiing. If it were not for my eagerness to get out and explore my surroundings, Johnny and I may have never found the link that relates us to one another, thus causing our relationship not to be so strong.

 Another activity that Johnny and I really enjoyed was soccer. We would spend the majority of our nights playing soccer after dinner, however we didn’t play the traditional way, we played a game called “World Cup,” which involved one goalie and everyman playing for them self to be the first to score. Johnny for the most part taught me how to get by at camp and in exchange I helped interest him into eventually trying out for his high school soccer team.

Johnny and Dan already had quiet a strong bond, but when I came into the mixture, I intensified the bond making the three of us being inseparable no matter what we did. Like everyone, I’ve been told not to brag or make myself look too flashy, but when it came to the three of us, we were the poster children to everything. Being the leaders that we were, one day after church ceremony, we decided that Sundays are a bit too relaxed, so we came up with an idea to run a four dollar per team two-on-two basketball tournament that resulted in the winning team of the tournament taking home the grand total. I unfortunately never ended up winning the tournament, however still to this day younger campers have carried on our tradition and it has taken on quiet a bit of popularity. Yes we were leaders, but that doesn’t mean that we always made the right decisions.  Back in 2005 after a formal dance with our sister camp, Camp Arcadia, Dan, Johnny, another camp friend Bono, and myself all decided that just having a dance didn’t give us enough time to hang out with the lovely ladies of Camp Arcadia. We devised a plan and executed it perfectly. As the girls were rolling out of camp in there white Dodge Caravans, we decided to chase their vans completely butt-naked hoping that for some reason they would stop and come back for more. As it ended up the idea wasn’t a very good one, weeks later we all were given mailings of our naked pictures and still to this day there has never been another formal dance. As for Johnny, Dan, Bono, and I, we were all punished by having to personally write an apology letter to every girl that attended the dance. If there is anything that I will always remember from this event, it is this, while planning out the task, I asked Dan “Why should we streak after their vans to gain attentions?”  Without hesitation, he responded, “Dude you gotta give a lil, to get a lil,” and on those words alone I was sold. I still to this day am puzzled as to why I par took in those shenanigans, the only reason I can come up with is trust, but not an everyday trust, a trust that can’t be explained, but is maintained through loyal brotherhood. 

Connections

Although Paul Bonasera had attended camp every year that I was there, it was not until summer of 2006 that we hung out and really got to know each other. He was a year older than me, but we both possessed the same rank of being a Junior Counselor and that summer we were counterparts to one another. Paul, or Bono as we all called him was a fairly quiet person, he stood at about five foot eight, had black hair and a major passion for music. I remember spending hours in the front row seat of the van exchanging all the knowledge we had once acquired about Notorious B.I.G. on our long and drooling drive to Bar harbor. Today Paul continues to research music and he even has an amazing musicblog called “Paulbono.com.” From one family to another, my “brother,” Bono, also attends Ohio University and he recruited me into his fraternity Pi Kappa Alpha. Inadvertently, Pi Kappa Alpha also happens to be the same fraternity that my dad was a part of back in the day at Bowling Green State University. It’s really pretty amazing how small this world is and just knowing the right people can open you up to connections you thought you never had.

Establishment of Camps

 I find it hard to talk about Kawanhee without going into a little history as to why and where it came from. However, before I talk about Kawanhee, I feel it is important to talk about where camps in general came from. According to wikipedia.com, a Pastor by the name of Bion originally created camps in France for children to be diverted from their homes during post war times. The first camps were set up in the in the Swiss Alps back in 1876. Bion set the model for how camps were structured; they were usually located in remote locations and were also used as the main means for schooling the children that attended them.

            As for Kawanhee, two brothers, George and Raymond Frank, started it back in 1921. Both Frank brothers were strongly associated with youth programs in their respected hometowns. After hiking the near by mountains of Kawanhee, the two men decided to start what is today Kawanhee. With little money and strong ambition, the Frank’s brothers took out a loan for $5,000, purchased 60 acres of land and had recruited 16 boys to start off the Kawanhee tradition. Kawanhee has come a long way since 1921, currently it is recognized for recruiting boys from all over the world and can hold up to 300 boys during one camp season. Unfortunately both the Franks brothers are now deceased, but I’m sure if they were here today they would be proud to see what has become of there beloved camp.

            As for myself, I have been associated with the brotherhood of camp Kawanhee for the last six years and not a day goes by that I don’t use some skill that I have acquired from there, or have some thought about a memory that relates to my experiences here in college. From the outside it is often hard to imagine why a place like Kawanhee is so important to me. People often refer to camps as a place for parents to drop their children off for the summer, or a place for fat kids to lose weight, but to me Kawanhee is my utopia, it is the place that I grew up and it will always be a part of me. I hope that everyone has there own personal type of Kawanhee. This is now the point as to where I wish you all a farewell and in the words of the recently deceased Kawanhee legend, Herbert Birch, “May there always be a Kawanhee.”

1200 post

It was a clear, blue sky and sunny summer afternoon up in the forested backcountry of Maine. I was blond haired, thirteen years old, standing at a height of five foot four and filled with more enthusiasm than a hot air balloon filled with helium. Today, July 25, 2003 would be the first day of living with my yet to be known, but new camp family. As I unload from the van, I take my first two steps onto the soil, take in a large breath of fresh New England air and let it out with a sigh of relief. Instantly I realize that this place called Kawanhee is filled with brotherhood and tradition and right away I realize that I want to make my mark and be a part of it.

            Like a stranger at a party, I turned to the only person I knew for guidance. Taylor Van Landingham, my good friend from back home who told me about Kawanhee, so I decided that I would use him as a crutch for the time being to introduce me to some people. Back at his lodge, I meet a few of his lodge mates, but no one too important to make a very strong first impression. However, after seeing the strong bond that Taylor had to his lodge mates, I decided that I wanted that and realized that all I needed to do was build up some courage and introduce myself to my lodge mates.

            As I approached my lodge, I was greeted to the sound of Puerto Rican rap and three individuals tossing their pocketknives at a cut up cardboard box. The three individuals were each wearing baggy jeans, a red headband and their own personalized soccer jersey. I felt like I had been dropped into some kind of tryout system for a new and up coming Puerto Rican gang. Luckily, I dropped any biased idea that I had and was quick to introduce myself to them as A.J., the new guy. The three of them were named Carlos, Luis, and Gabby. Only Carlos would be my new lodge mate, however the other two would later become good friends of mine on the camp Kawanhee soccer team. After exchanging personal information to each other, Carlos walked me into the cabin to meet the rest of my lodge mates.

The cabin was built back in the 20’s, resembled the log cabin from Little House on the Prairie and could hold seven bunk beds along with three single beds for each counselor. Inside the cabin there was just this one kid, lanky, black haired with large circular glasses, and he was wearing short athletic shorts, a warn out Cleveland Browns shirt and had a space between his front two teeth big enough to squeeze a grape through. I’ll never forget this, after I introduced myself as A.J., he responded with a “Yo what’s up, I’m Dan,” and he pounded his chest twice with his fist, then kissed his finger-tips just like Sammy Sosa of the Cubs used to do after he hit his homeruns. Once he told me that he was from Olentangy, Ohio and was an avid Cleveland fan, I new instantly that he would be one of my better friends at camp.

Dan was defiantly one of the better people to get to know around camp. He new everyone and had been there since he was seven years old, not to mention he had two older brothers that had also attended camp. After getting to know Dan a lot better, we started hanging out a lot and he would be the one who introduced me to everyone I needed to know. Dan and my relationship, was more than just friends, we seemed almost like twins born to the same mother, and everything we did we did together.

 (I could probably explain more about Dan)

Another one of my good friends from camp was Johnny Sengleman. At the time, Johnny was kind of plump and had long shaggy brown hair like a singer to some 80’s rock group. Johnny and I got to know each other through water skiing. Before I ever attended camp, Johnny had been known as the best water skier at camp for his age group, but that would soon all change. Coincidently, Johnny was ridding in the boat the first time I ever water-skied at Kawanhee, so he got a front row seat to all the action. I showcased my skills by starting out on two ski’s, then dropped one mid run leading into a slalom ski, from there, I lifted one of my feet off the ski performing a spread eagle, a difficult trick that involves holding the rope with one foot, while the arms are spread out in the air like a bird. After my run, Johnny rushed out of the boat and pulled me up out of the water onto the ski dock. While on the dock, attempting to take off my water vest, Johnny got up in my face and said, “Where the hell did you learn to do that, I’ve been skiing since I was six and couldn’t even imagine attempting something like that.” I responded to him by letting him know that I used to go to another camp, where I invested most of my time water skiing.

 (build onto Johnny and introduce Bono)

Although Paul Bonasera had attended camp every year that I was there, it was not until summer of 2006 that we hung out and really got to know each other. He was a year older than me, but we both possessed the same rank of being a Junior Counselor and that summer we were counterparts to one another. Paul, or Bono as we all called him was a fairly quiet person, he stood at about five foot eight, had black hair and a major passion for music. I remember spending hours in the front row seat of the van exchanging all the knowledge we had once acquired about Notorious B.I.G. on our long and drooling drive to Bar harbor. Today Paul continues to research music and he even has an amazing musicblog called Paulbono.com. From one family into another, my “brother,” Bono, also attends Ohio University and he recruited me into his fraternity Pi Kappa Alpha.

Pi Kappa Alpha, or Pikes as most people refer to us around campus is my newly acquired band of brothers. Unlike Kawanhee, where the brotherhood comes together by choice, at the Pike house it is forced upon you through the pledging process and I am and will always be thankful for having the opportunity. I have never been closer to a group of people that were complete strangers to me six months ago and for that I am thankful.

(Get more descriptive about Pike brotherhood)

I don’t believe it is possible to write a paper about family without actually talking about my literal family. Anyone one person can tell you that they don't have a single personality. People take on a different role depending on whom they hang out with. As for myself, I am one of two siblings, with my brother Matt being nine years older than myself. Being that my parents had me in their late 30's and my mom had a fairly dramatic experience birthing Matt, I guess you could say that I was an "oops" child, so in a way I was raised almost like an only child with three parents. Not saying that my brother was an authority figure, but he was someone that had quiet a bit of life experience and was much easier to turn to for answers than my parents.

 

As for the roles, I would have to say my parents see me as their adventurist child. Starting at an early age, I would meet early in the morning and ride bikes with my friends all over town until about dinnertime. This would upset my parents cause they had no means of contacting me, incidents like this would help my parents come up with the term for me as always "running." I wasn't a bad kid growing up, so my only groundings would come from my so-called "running" adventures. Before the ability of being able to understand my actions, my parents have told me that when I first began to crawl, I would zip around the house investigating every nook and cranny as if I was on some type of secret mission.

Running in the Family part du

The new assigned section of Running in the family is starting to make a bit more sense than the opening of the book. I find myself more interested in reading, because Ondaatje has started to fill the reader in on more family background, instead of just dropping the reader into the middle of the action and forcing them to figure out what lead up to the event. This book is starting to remind me a lot of The Last Lecture, because it doesn't seem to have a solid flow from one essay to the next, instead it just seems to be a whole bunch of scattered essays put into one book.

On page 64, we finally get a better understanding of where Ondaatje's family came from. I enjoyed reading about how Ondaatje got his family name from the Dutch. In my mind, this essay is where Ondaatje truly opened us up to his family and made us understand where he came from, along with the hardships of the family. Also we find out that he has a brother whom lives in Toronto.

While reading page 70, I instantly thought of our last class and that exercise where we had to describe three people as vividly as possible with only a few words. Ondaatje goes all out capturing me in his detail about the gecko with the dragonfly. "And the Gecko on the wall waving his tail stiffly his jaws full of dragonfly whose wings symmetrically disappeared into his mouth."(70).

Along with filling us in on his family, Ondaatje also finds it important to fill us in on the type of culture that Ceylon has to offer. On page 74 he reflects on a story about a Kabaragoyas and Thalagoyas, two very common creatures that live in Ceylon, resemble a crocodile and are seen as having mythical importance.

Running in the Family

Upon reading Running in the Family, I have discovered that the author, Michael Ondaatje enjoys opening his story up by not narrating or summarizing the text, but using vivid descriptions to put the reader in the setting. Take for instance the opening sentences of the memoir " What began it all was the bright bone of a dream I could hardly hold onto. I was sleeping at a friend's house. I saw my father, chaotic, surrounded by dogs and all of them were screaming and barking into the tropical landscape." (21) I didn't know what was going on with the story, but the description captured my attention making me want to read on to figure out why he started his story this way.

After getting fairly far into the text, I would probably have to say that this book is going to be my least favorite. I feel that Ondaatje has interesting stories, but he doesn't present them in an amusing way and there for I found myself dozing and not too interested in reading at all. As the book goes on he changes his way of using a lot of description, to instead summarize events that took place, thus making the action seem boring. On page 50, he goes into describing how his grandmother was fortunate to own a horse, but doesn't use any action when telling the story. I felt that this could have been an interesting story about gambling, but his lack of action makes it seem bland.

thesis

In Fathers, Sons, and Brothers, Brett Lott seems to present his lifetime memories in an order that showcases his progression from youth towards adult life. Lott presents his information in this order so that the reader can see where the roles came from that Lott took on as he grew older, and so the reader can try to assume the roles that Lott’s children may take on, as they too grow old.

The saying, “the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” describes the roles that the men of the Lott family take on, and it is these roles that are passed on like a baton in the Olympics from generation to generation. Bret Lott without a doubt gets most, if not all of his characteristics from his father. In the opening essay, In the Garage, Bret Lott describes his father as being “a man with few words, and even fewer tools.” (3). Like dad, Bret describes himself as a soft-spoken person, who also possesses very few tools. “There sits my toolbox, the small grey plastic one; inside it a couple of screwdrivers, a tape measure, a small socket set. That’s it for my tools. Like father, like son.” (10). Having dad be so affiliated with Royal Crown Cola, it’s almost foreshadowed that Lott will continue to have Royal Crown be a major part of his life. Not only in his younger years, but as an Adult. In the essay Royal Crown 2, Lott goes more in depth discussing how his fathers commitment to RC cola and Lott’s father’s influence on Lott, for the most part forced Lott to also become affiliated with RC. There is a scene where Lott is explaining to a man by the name of Mr. Schenk’s, that he is the new salesman, the son of Bill Lott (Mr. Schenk’s old salesman). This image is easily the most literal display of Lott following in his father’s footsteps. Lott responds to the whole situation “I know I shocked him, this second-generation salesman from RC showing up to peddle still more soda pop.” (181). “This is a good decision, I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life.” (181). Like father, like son.

Aside from Lott’s father, his uncle was also a major influence and unlike his dad, Bret’s uncle, Lynn, was very outspoken. Lott’s tone when telling the essay of Uncle gives me the sense that Lott feels his uncle is just some hotshot who betters himself by making his father seem weak. “Uncle Lynn felt it his duty to reveal stories, reveal to me a side of my father I’d not seen…Things my dad would not tell for fear he’d look foolish.” (58). Not Lott’s father, but Lott’s uncle preaches to Lott at a young age that he must “sow your wild oats,” (55) referring to having sex at a young age and often, before the ability to do so runs out. It’s not evident that Lott took on any characteristic of his uncle, however it still doesn’t make Uncle Lynn a strong influence to Lott’s life.

After reading Fathers, Sons, and Brothers, I immediately think of the essay Allegiance. This essay probably portrays the best comparison of the relationship that Lott had to his brother Brad, and the relationship that Lott’s sons Zeb and Jacob have with each other. Bret's older brother, Brad, was quite used to getting in trouble, for instance the time he got kicked off the swimming team and was caught riding his motorcycle when he was supposed to be at practice. Being that Brad, was quite the troublemaker, Bret was forced to become pretty familiar with the phrase "swear to God you won't tell mom?"(152). Bret got very accustomed to responding to Brads request with an "I swear," and it was from that phrase alone that the allegiance between the brothers became official. Like father like son, Lott describes the image of overhearing his son Zeb, tells Jake to take an oath not to tell on him because of a certain mishap. “Jake, don’t tell Dad,” Zeb whispered, and it seemed Swear to God you won’t tell ought to be the next words I would hear.”(163).

For obvious reasons, Lott titled an essay Brothers, comparing the similarities between Lott’s brother and Lott’s sons. “That pinch was an entry into our childhood; my arm around him, our smiling, is the proof of us two surfacing, alive but not unscathed. And here are my own two boys, already embarked” (32). After witnessing Jacob slamming Zebs finger in the van door, Lott had an epiphany of his younger years as to when his brother Brad pinched his arm by the poolside of their grandparent’s pool. This is the first instance as to where the reader starts to see a resemblance as to why the book is titled Fathers, Sons, and Brothers. This gives me the sense that one day, Jacob and Zeb will witness their children perform some type of mishap and it will instead be them who recognizes the resemblances between their sons and themselves.

Family Myths

Anyone one person can tell you that they don't have a single personality. People take on a different role depending on who they hang out with. As for myself, I am one of two siblings, with my brother Matt being nine years older than myself. Being that my parents had me in their late 30's and my mom had a fairly dramatic experience birthing Matt, I guess you could say that I was an "oops" child, so in a way I was raised almost like an only child with three parents. Not saying that my brother was an authority figure, but he was someone that had quiet a bit of life experience and was much easier to turn to for answers than my parents.

As for the roles, I would have to say my parents see me as their adventurist child. Starting at an early age, I would meet early in the morning and ride bikes with my friends all over town until about dinner time. This would upset my parents cause they had no means of contacting me, incidents like this would help my parents come up with the term for me as always "running." I wasn't a bad kid growing up, so my only groundings would come from my so called "running" adventures.

As for my nuclear family, I am the most experienced traveler, so it has always been fitting for me to be the adventurer. I am very used to being separated from my family, so being at college hasn't given the feeling of being homesick yet. Other than traveling to Europe last summer, I am gone for seven weeks every other summer, attending camp all the way up in Maine. Before the ability of being able to understand my actions, my parents have told me that when I first began to crawl, I would zip around the house investigating every nook and cranny as if I was on some type of secret mission.

Adventurer is a very fitting personality, this winter on our family vacation to N.Y., I insisted that I drive the eight hour journey separately. I told my family I wanted my own truck up their so I could go home earlier, but my main reason was really so I could listen to my own music and navigate the long trek on my own. Something about me, I really do love to travel, which makes me wonder why I never ran away from home.

It's kind of hard to admit not being my family and all, but I relate a lot more to my friends and truly do have a different role when I am with them. Ever since the incident when I tried to Tarzan swing out of my friends tree and ended up falling flat on my back in the yard, my friends have given me the nickname "Agreeable A.J." I get this name, because they know that of all the people in the group, I am the most flexible person. When we are all at a stale-mate as to who will be the the one to perform the difficult task, it is me who offers every time to perform the act. With this role, I can be seen as a leader, or a follower. This one time my friend had an awful idea of doing a fifteen minute one gallon milk chug, when he couldn't find a competitor, I stepped up to the plate and took him on. I really couldn't tell you who won, but between the two of us we finished off two gallons of milk within the given time and vomited a combined total of 22 times.

FSB

Now that we have finished Liar's club, it is now our responsibility to embark on reading Fathers, Sons, and Brothers. Unlike Mary Karr's Liar's Club, Brett Lott's novel is an easy flowing book that involves several page breaks along with large text per page. So far the book is off to an interesting start, filling us in on the type of family that the main character has had throughout his lifetime. Surprisingly, the author starts the book out with talking about his appreciation for garages, but does eventually tie the resemblance of the garage in with his family. The garage is the place to spend time playing fort with your brothers and let your imagination go wild. "My dad would hose out the entire garage, giving the concrete floor a slick sheen, a temptation too great for us"(4). This is Lott describing one of the games the boys would play in the garage, where they would slide in and out of the garage until the wet concrete would dry up.

Being that this class is based on family, this is an important book to read revealing what it's like to grow up with three brothers all close in age and a family that moves frequently do to the Fathers career. Though my family doesn't personally relate to Brett Lott's, I do know of several of my friends that are mirror images of the Lott family. However, like the Lott family, my family does have quiet the collection of home videos and I can relate to watching videos of my early years just like Lott mentions in his description. "There is a home movie of two of us sitting on the edge of the swimming pool at our grandma and grandpa's old apartment building in Culver City."(25). After reading this description, I instantly think back to the summer of 1998 when my brother and i were racing in our hotel pool while my parents and grandparents took turns video taping the outcome of each race.

Memory list

Being put out into an unfamiliar environment has never really been to much of a challenge for myself, however this summer changed things for me as well as three of my best friends. We had just arrived in Amsterdam to start out our 52 day backpacking excursion when the culture shock really hit us. We literally were running into each other, oblivious to which direction to head in order to find our hostel that we would be staying in. With a bit of help from the airport information counter, we got set in the correct direction, boarded a train and headed to our hostel. Once we hit the actual city, it wasn't too hard to locate our hostel, however I will never forget this memory of myself thinking "we are screwed and there is no way we can manage for 52 days", but like Darwin would say "only the strong survive."

I'm not too sure why I'm sharing this, but it is one of my more stronger childhood memories. I have always been known to be a bit cocky, especially when it came to doing some kind of dangerous stunt. So with all of this said, it was a spring day back in probably fourth grade and my friends and I were all climbing my friend Celik's crabapple tree. Being a fairly athletic person, I decided that instead of using the rope ladder to climb out of the tree, I would instead jump for it like Tarzan. I didn't exactly take momentum into play, and when i grabbed the ladder in mid-air, my body went head over heals and I fell probably seven feet flat on my back in the lawn. I couldn't even stand and felt I would be paralyzed for life, but my friends and I still to this day have an on going joke about how the only thing I kept saying was "just don't tell my mom."

Since Dad's weekend just occurred, it has mad me think a lot about bonding experiences that I've had with my Father. My Dad has always been the handy-man around town, so sometimes he decides to bring me along for some of the jobs that he has. This summer he had me help him with yet another tree removal job. So like always, Dad had the job start of with me climbing the tree in order to tie a rope around it, while he greased up his chainsaw. After setting up and taking precautions we began our work, with me anchoring the rope to cause tension while he made a wedge cut in the tree. Unfortunately the tree began falling before we expected, so I was forced to run as fast as I could away from the tree in order to control the fall. I ended tripping and had the tree fall about five feet from me, but I'll never forget my Dad walking over to me, and saying " after 18 years of raising you, you still don't know how to run on your own two feet."

sorry for no pictures, they won't upload for some reason

Re-600 word

In the novel The Liars' Club, Mary Karr shows us that Mary feels more attachment toward her father than any other adult figure. With the family going through a divorce and other turmoil, Mary and Lecia find it a necessity to keep strong ties with their distant Father.

“What Lecia said to Daddy that night stays with me, for she was suddenly issuing orders again, first for the operator to put us through, then to Daddy absent so long I faltered conjuring his face. Here’s exactly what Lecia said: “Daddy, you need to get us two airplane tickets back down there from Denver.” She didn’t ask, there was no maybe threaded through her voice, no sliver of doubt. […] The receiver was warm on my ear. Daddy wanted to know one thing: “You ‘bout ready to come home, Pokey?”” (256, 257). 

In this image, Lecia "issuing orders again," "she didn't ask, there was no maybe," Lecia's stern actions and Karr's choice of words lets the reader know just what it would have been like to be on the other end of the phone as if you were Daddy. Also, Lecia's dictating and lack of politeness portrays a feeling of urgency for the girls to meet back up with Daddy. Daddy even lets Mary know that he too is feeling the separation, by asking "You 'bout ready to come home, Pokey?" This passage gives the reader the first true feeling of the Fathers absence.

Another image where Mary portrays her strong relationship with her father is in the scene where Mary has returned home from College and Daddy is cutting her steak. "Still, on my first visit home from college, he not only spooned my plate high, but actually used his pocketknife to saw my T-bone into a grid of tiny bites."(278).

This is a very colorful image that recaptures Mary and her fathers relationship. After all these years, Mary is now all grown up and her father still loves and even babies her. Though this may seem a bit strange being that karr is all grown up, it gives me a perfect picture of the fathers smiling face as he slops food onto her plate, and cuts up her T-bone steak. Karr also realizes that this kind gesture is ridiculous, but she lets Daddy go on with it because she knows it feeds Daddy satisfaction.

8 descriptions

"Daddy later said the tower swayed back and forth in the gale. He and Ben Bederman swore they had to hold on to the countertops while the rolling chairs slid around. Through the observation window, they watched a grey wall of water twenty feet high move up the canal toward town."(97) This description makes the reader feel as if they are also there. I imagine myself completely scared sliding around in a wheeled chair, just watching water rush toward me.

"I sat in the back of Uncle Frank's white convertible going home with Lecia blubbering nonstop in the front bucket seat and him putting his hammy hand on her shoulder every now and then, telling her it was okay, to just cry it out."(99) This description shows the role of each character. Lecia being older gets to ride up front, while Mary rides in the back, and Uncle Frank takes on the father figure role for the time being by trying to calm the kids emotions.

"Later that evening, Daddy was frying up a chicken, and she chased me down over something mean I'd said about Grandma. She was fast even then (in junior high, she would run anchor on the four-forty relay), so I didn't make it a half turn around the yard before she caught me by the back of my collar and yanked me down from behind."(100) This lets you know more about Lecia, like how she was fast and did appreciate Grandma.

"It was hanging in a giant tear right over my face, swinging side to side like a pendulum, when Daddy came slamming out the screen to haul her off me."(101) This is just a great simile describing the spit wad that Lecia had hanging from her mouth.

"The sheriff would unzip the bag's top a little bit, and the daddy would peer in, then shake his head no. Then he'd step back while the sheriff rezipped before going on to the next bag."(103-104) This quote reminds me of watching the news. All the time you see on the news a pile of body bags with people peering into the bags, trying to identify the dead.

"There was a wide blood-colored scar up one shin where one of Lee Gleason's quarter horses had thrown Daddy, then dragged him around the corral till six inches of white shinbone was visible on that leg. "(110) This is a vivid description that explains just some of the hard times the father has been through. It is also interesting, because this lets the readers know of an event that has literally scarred the father for life.

"Once the men figure the water's verging on deep enough, they fan out from each other, unrolling the net while they do it, passing it hand to hand, till it's pretty straight. All told, it might be thirty or forty yards long. Then everybody just walks back to the beach real slow, each fellow hanging on to his hunk of net, which strains out whatever swims in its path."(111) The reader gets a good idea as to how the men go about fishing with this net.

"I'd never seen a shark up close before, and what stuck me was how chinless it was, its mouth drawn low down where its neck should have been. This gave it a deep, snaggle-toothed frown and kept it from looking smart"(111) Instead of just simply saying she saw a hammer-head shark, Mary Karr gets very descriptive to let the reader know her personal feelings toward this animal.

Hurricane Carla

A. Please write specifically about Mary's feelings about her grandmother. What are some of her grandmother's habits? What does she suffer from? What does she think about Mary and Lecia? What does she reveal to Mary about Mary's mother?

If you cannot remember the answers to these questions, don't despair. Write as much as you can about the relationship.

B. Briefly, What causes Mary and her family to run from Leechfield? What happens on the bridge?

For the most part, Mary is just treating the situation like most kids would. "Dear Grandma, I hope you are getting better. There was a man in a car wreck who died three feet tall. Here is the man. Then there is a horizontal stick figure with X's for eyes next to a bubble-shaped car with what looks like a Band-Aid on it. I guess that was my studied approximation of death at the time."(49) She understands that the problem is serious, but being a kid and all, she will use her imagination to try and block out reality. Mary is really grossed out by the whole situation, she does not know how to handle the smells her grandma produces, nor the sight of her leg. "I wanted to leave right away, just looking at that leg."(52) She even refers to her Grandmas breath as a "snake smell" and "death stink".(79)

The Grandma has taken on bad habits to try and ease the pain, she drinks at least a six pack a day, is forgetful of names, and even abuses the use of children's pain killers.

The Grandmother suffers from Cancer which started in her leg and has now made it's way to her brain. Because of the illness, the Grandmother has an amputated leg and a terrible stench that comes from her throat.

The grandmother feels that Mary and Lecia are spoiled and could use a good beating. The grandmother even goes as far as to create a tasseled horse quirt, expecting the mother to beat the two. "These children are being ruined! you think you have trouble now, you just wait." (73)

The Grandmother reveals to Mary her two step-siblings, Tex and Belinda. It appears that Marry's mom had a completely different family that Mary was never aware of. "Sometime during that whipping, I began to rid of Tex and Belindas existence."(78) Mary never should have never found that out and was enraged when she did.

Mary and her family leave Leechfield to avoid getting hit badly by a hurricane. While on the bridge, the weather cause the Mother to swerve and hit a guard rail.

Liars Club continued

Hello once again bloggers,

"Dear Grandma, I hope you are getting better. There was a man in a car wreck who died three feet tall. Here is the man. Then there is a horizontal stick figure with X's for eyes next to a bubble-shaped car with what looks like a Band-Aid on it. I guess that was my studied approximation of death at the time."(49) It's strange how a young child can't fully comprehend death, but uses there own unique message to try an let everyone they to know what's going on.

The author, Karr, goes into such vivid detail describing what it was like to see her Grandma battling through Cancer. "It was then that I found out that the snake smell wasn't just from her bedpan or some old food getting nasty somewhere in the room. It came from her. In fact, it came from her open mouth, from deep inside her where the cancer was doubtless eating out whatever was human."(78)

As one reads on from page 23-97, they can't help but think of a traumatic time period of their own life. The first memory that came to mind after reading this passage, was when I was in 5th grade and my dog was dying from old age. My parents raised my dog Shiba and I as if we were twins from the same egg, so this was especially harder on me knowing that I was soon to be out living my "sister." Like the author Mary Karr just sitting and watching her Grandma counting down the days, I too was counting down the moments I had left together with my dog Shiba. I, along with my family was stuck in a awful situation, it was either continue to watch Shiba struggle, or pull the plug. Though hard to do, I was given my final morning with Shiba, only to realize when I came home from school I would never see her again.

Though this is not a family event, this experience just recently happened to me and I feel it's worth telling. Over break, around Christmas time, my good friend Molly, invited me over for a holiday five dollar gift exchange party. Unfortunately I didn't read the invite until ten minutes before the party, so I had to scavenge around my house for a gift worth giving. The best thing I could find was a homemade jar of jam (flavor unkown), so my friend agreed to get me a candle in case I wanted to have a "better" gift. I turned down his offer saying that I wanted to give away a unique gift that stood out. Once the party got under way and everyone was settled into the living room, it was time for the "White Elephant" gift exchange. The gift I ended up receiving was a cheap rotating picture frame, so I didn't feel to bad about my jam present. Finally, when it came time, a fairly plump woman drew my package and was thrilled thinking she got a candle, however I had to explain to her that it was only homemade jam and it was at that time that the entire party became silent and laughed at me for bringing such a cheap present. I didn't really get to offended, however I will always be known as the person who brought that cheap jar of jam to a holiday gift exchange.

Liars Club/Memoir

What up Blog readers,

After successfully reading the first chapter of the Liars Club, I can now tell you that it is an interesting story about a struggling family that lives out in Lubbock Texas. The story starts out with an interesting "thriller movie" twist, where as you first hear of an incident that took place, but you must read on to figure out what happened. I particularly enjoyed this, because it makes me want to further read on and find out just what happened.

At first the novel was a bit confusing, but it then leads into smaller stories so you can get a better perspective toward each character. It's still hard to get an exact read on what type of a person the main character "Pokey"(not sure if it's her real name, but what dad calls her) is, however I'm sure as we read on it will be discovered.

The author does a great job of portraying the transformation between the parents. At first the dad appears to be some alcohol abusing parent that lacks any interest in anything, but as the novel goes on you learn that the dad was a caring person who included his daughter in his "Liar's Club" (daily getaway location so he can play domino's with his pals). The father was even said to have spoiled the main character by buying her things she wanted, such as coke.

As for the mother, not to much is known other than the fact that she has had several husbands, because she believes in marriage, not dating due to the interests of her mother's Methodist beliefs.

Along with the assignment to read Liar's Club, we were also assigned to read the first ten pages of The Memoir and the Memoirist.

After reading the first ten pages of The Memoirist, I feel the purpose of this reading is to condition our brains toward the thought process of writing a memoir as we proceed toward our final assignment. Thomas Larson, the author, talks of how he has a class of several students from all over, who seek him to teach his expertise on writing a memoir. This is analogous of our class, because we too are strangers meeting in a common place getting ready to write a memoir.

Once again signing out, I'll be back soon

English Experiances

Hello Blog readers,
My birth name is Alexander Johnson, however I am known by most as A.J. The main purpose of this blog is to inform you of my past English experiences.

If I were to guess, I'd say my first true experiences with English came in early childhood with the discovery of Sesame Street. Although my parents were the primary source of my learnings, those Sesame Street songs and activities really stuck in my mind and had a way with me.

Elementary school through College has truly been the most note worthy instructers to me. I'll never forget my eight grade English Teacher, I will not share her name for obvious reasons, however she was as strict as a drill sargent. This woman was about 65 years old, five foot four, had the skin color of an orange and would make you shake at the bone. Though at the time I hated watching School House Rock as a 13 year old, I now appreciate the hard work and discipline, because it really helped mold me into the type of writer that I am today.

I'm now signing out Blog world, but I will be back with more posts!