College Composition
For
the most formative of my years, I lived in a house in Bangor with two connected
apartments. During most of that time,
our downstairs tenant was my great-grandmother, Nana. Every single day I would walk over to her
apartment to watch a “program” with her.
It was usually either Little House on the Prairie or Bonanza, and after
a few years of this routine, I’m pretty sure we saw every single episode.
Our hour together was more than a TV show
though, she told me stories. At the
time, I was a little annoyed that she would tell stories while I was trying to
follow a plot. But by now, all of those
shows have faded from my memory and her stories remained. She told me about when she saw the actual
house they used to film Bonanza, and how it was disappointingly small. She loved the story about her escapades at a
nudist camp she accidentally wandered into.
These were just a sample of her many stories.
Not many of her stories centralized around her husband though. Papa was an Irishman,
and he worked on the railroads. His
father died when he was young, they brought what was left of him home in a
bag. There had been a railroad accident,
and his father’s life-blood was on the tracks.
Perhaps it was because of this that Papa grew up to be such an angry
man. He spent a lot of time at the race
tracks, I wonder if he was trying to forget.
Nana’s apartment always smelled the
same. I cleaned it once a week, and
though the cleaning products might win for an hour or so, the scent always
returned. I called the smell “old lady
perfume” then. Now I call it Nana’s
smell.
Every day she would offer me a chocolate, and
I would always sneak two thinking that I was fooling her. I wasn’t though; she was a smart woman even
in her 80s.
Towards the end, I fixed her oatmeal every
evening at 5pm. She would tell me every
day where the measuring cups were, even though she had just told me the night
before and I had memorized their place.
She slowly began to act her age, and the stories she told were retold
again and again. I slowly lost her, and
then one day she moved out for good.
Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if I
had never met Nana. Lots of people never
meet their great-grandparents, but would I be any different if I had never met
her? Did I take advantage of the time I
had?
If I had never known Nana then I wouldn't
have learned to love those who are much older than me. I hear my peers talk about the elderly as
though they will never grow old themselves.
But I grew up with Nana as my best friend. If I had never known her then I would never
have learned how to live in light of the depression, reusing everything and
eating red-flannel hash. Most
importantly, if I had never known my Nana, then I would never have been exposed
to her reminiscing and her stories. I
would be much smaller without my heritage.
This is a nicely economical piece that has its idea (and it's the right idea), develops it, and keeps to its plan. As you remember from my reaction in class, details like the perfume and the hash are the kind that enlist the reader.
ReplyDeleteNow about rhetorical rhythm and picky stuff.
* I wouldn't write, "I regret to say...." A piece like this is already suffused with sadness and regret. That usage is cliched and unnecessary.
* "I remember" in graf 2 starts as a hammer blow series. We think we are going to get a half-dozen 'I remembers'--each new one perhaps more intense than the one before. But, in fact, you only use it twice, more or less leaving those 'I remember's out there naked and orphaned. So, either use 'I remember' as a device or drop it as a no-longer-needed relic. By relic I mean this: when I revise my own stuff I find lots of unneeded 'I said,' 'I saw,' 'I think,' 'I remember--it's what happens during composition; it's a sign of the beginning of the process. Later, I edit them all out.
In this particular piece, I don't think a hammer blow series of 'I remember's really fits the tone and mood and style. This editor says, 'Drop them!'
ReplyDeleteI have two comments about the relationship of reader and writer.
ReplyDeleteSmaller comment: I would drop: "These were just a sample of her many stories. " Sometimes those neat transitions that teachers tell you are so important are actually clumsy and unneeded. You have to trust your reader to understand that there were plenty more stories. Your reader can not possibly step away from your writing saying, 'Oh, her nana only had the same two stories, over and over.'
In line with that trust-your-reader comment (and this one may be harder for you to accept, I would rewrite this:
Perhaps it was because of this that Papa grew up to be such an angry man. He spent a lot of time at the race tracks, I wonder if he was trying to forget.
to:
Perhaps it was because of this that Papa grew up to be such an angry man, the kind of man who spent a lot of time at the race tracks.
Trust me: men who spend a lot of time at tracks are not happy men, unless they are taking care of the horses. Race tracks are where people go to hope, then lose hope, then curse their fate, forever spiraling downward and inward, poorer and poorer, angrier and angrier.
Your reader WILL understand that! Never tell a reader what the reader can figure out for himself; never make explicit what already is implicit.
Unless you're writing children's books, I guess....
:)
And just to finish that previous comment--no one is more forgetful than a gambler: they forget they can't win in the long run unless they quit the day they are finally ahead--and they never do. They forget what happened last time they bet the baby's shoes on the gray mare. They forget everything but the next race.
DeleteYou've struck something I know I struggle with. I don't trust my readers, and I know it's a problem. I'm an intelligent reader, so why don't I trust others to be? Anyways, I see what you're saying and I'll try to fix it. The underlying cause may take longer to fix though.
ReplyDelete