Tracing the Steps It was Christmas Eve at my
grandparents house, it was probably in the early 90’s, I don’t remember
the exact year but I know was about five or six. I was sitting at the end
of the table as I usually did right next to my grandfather.
we finished my grandfather said “ Kevin, I don’t think I have ever told
you the story of how I came over from Ireland”. Without even replying no,
he answered for me and started telling me his story of how he came to
Boston. I saved up my money for a boat ride to Boston, a one way ticket,
it took me a awhile to save up because the minimum wages were very low in
rural Ireland towns.
My mom died when I was very young so it was
just me, my two brothers and my sister, well of course my dad. So finally
when I turned seventeen my dad gave me the OK to go to Boston and start a
new generations of Fahy. Now my younger brother was fourteen and he could
take over my portion of the chores. I was very nervous about going to
America, what were the people like? How was city live like? Would my
apartment get broken into? But after a few drinks with my dad at the local
pub the night before he calmed me down, and gave me some extra money that
he was saving for me since I was born. It was only a little bit each week
but after fifty-two weeks in a year and seventeen years, the money built
I was all ready to go to America; I had plenty of money and
I had allot of confidence. When I was on the boat over to Boston, I
noticed a nice pretty Irish lady that was having trouble understanding one
of the worker’s English. See the lady spoke Gaelic and a little English,
but not enough to really get by on her own. I helped her out and then we
started talking in Gaelic, see I knew two languages. When we arrived in
Boston we kept in touch, she worked down the street from me at a little
bakery store and I worked at carpenter mill on the corner. After a little
while we started going out and after two years of saving our money every
dime we could.
We got married and bought this little house and
fixed it up to be how it looks today. The house is almost forty years old.
After my granddad finished his story he went back to his favorite chair by
the window for some rest after dinner and a story. As he did every family
get together. If there was one lesson my grandparents every taught me it
was how to safe my money and think of needs before desires.
There is usually a spot in everyone’s yard that is
neglected and goes unattended. The leaves aren’t raked and the lawn mower
can’t reach the grass. The only habitant is this little squirrel that
munches on a supply of nuts from the nearby acorn tree in my neighbor’s
yard. I have been observing nature and I have noticed nature is a
reflection on man. Emerson said,” Nature always wears the colors of the
spirit “. Nature seems to mimic our moods and actions.
For as long as I can remember, I have noticed this old decaying tree
trunk. The diameter of this rotten piece of wood is about two feet long.
Nature has taken on characteristics of humans; it has rotten away. ‘’From
ashes to ashes and dust to dust’’ is a line from the Bible; nature is
When you stop and close your eyes and open your mind you can hear
fierce colonial fighters battling in the woods. These fighters are giving
their lives so that their children will be able to say “ I am an American,
not British”. The leaves were bunched together in a silo lute of a
wounded soldier defending his land despite his conditions and wounds.
The cold dark Alaskan tundra is just as American as the warm currents
of the Gulf of Mexico and every inch has some sort of message to say.
It’s just not always easy to discover, it may require a little critical
thinking on your part.
On the last day of Ted and Bob's junior high
school careers, they waited impatiently for the final bell to ring. Ted
and Bob had planned to spend an entire day at the local water park, just
ten minutes down the street. They only had twenty minutes left in English
class and they would soon be on their way down the new water slide and
then into the improved wave pool.
Bob said " Ted I can't wait, I have been waiting for this
day since I got here in September, only ten more minutes!"
Ted said, " I know. Remember, Bob, my brother is picking us up in
the parking lot over by the Shell gas station".
"RRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGG." The final bell sounded. Together,
Ted and Bob raced frantically down the stairs. Ted said "What a
better day to go, it's eighty-five degrees out and the sun is out
today unlike yesterday. Are you even listening to be Bob?".
Bob said " Yes, but the only think I can see is that empty wave
pool, well almost empty, not all the schools have gotten out. They still
have one more week of school. Look, there is the front door."
Ted screamed "Watch out there is a banana peel on the
stairs!". But it was too late. Bob had already stepped on it and
fell on the very last stair.
Bob yelled "Ouch my leg it hurts, I think it's broken, No this
can't happen not today, not today, of all days in the world. Why couldn't this happen another day?
''. Bob had broken
his leg and he would be in a cast for the rest of the summer. O, he could
still have fun in the water, but the closest he got to the water park was
his bathtub with a plastic bag over his leg. He only dreamed about next
summer, the summer after he finished ninth grade.
“Because I couldn’t stop for death”
Emily Dickinson’s poem of “ Because I couldn’t stop
for death’’ you can see that she is anticipating her death. In the poem
she uses vivid imagery, to get her question across that is what is next,
after death? This poem makes you think about the afterlife, it challenges
the traditional perspectives of death. There are so many uncertainties
that arise in my mind after reading this poem. Emily Dickinson’s poem
makes me ponder about what is next.
Dickinson distorts traditional notions of time. She pushes one of her
questions in your mind by saying “ Tis Centuries and yet feels shorter
than the day”. I think there would be no sense of time after death. That
everything would just exist around you; time would be of no concern to me.
It would probably be like you were trapped in a timeless dimension.
Dickinson also speaks of death as a loss, she makes you think of what
will be left behind. Her lines of ‘’ we passed the school were the
children play/ we passed the fields of gazing granite, we passed the
setting sun”. She is throwing more parts to her question. She is making
you think of what you will have missed when you die. You wouldn’t be able
to appreciate the things you love to appreciate; those little simple
moments of zien for you.
She isn’t throwing facts in your face she is throwing questions of
what, who, why, when and where into your mind. At the very end of her
poem she says” I first surmised the horses heads were toward eternity-“.
By saying that and ending it in a dash just makes me think. What is
really after death? is it like live except no one can notice your
Of all the one thousand one hundred and seventy-five poems she has
written this one just bombards you with questions, but never answers them
it’s left to you to decide and make assumptions on what is next. She uses
the dashes extremely well to throw her question at you.
A sport is any competition between two opposing
forces whereby in the end there is a winner and a loser. It kind of
competition where two teams or two people face off in a physical activity.
Boxing fits this definition because two men or women get in a ring and
fight each other until a winner is declared either by a knock out or
simply not getting up for ten seconds. It is a little sad that our
society is based on violence but I admit I do love to witness a good
fight. I guess that makes my definition of a sport fit America’s
definition of a sport, violent physical contact.
Keith Fazekas boxes professionally and he loves the game. When Keith
was asked by an Atlanta journalist when drives his love for the game he
responded with “ I guess it’s the adrenaline… it’s exciting” (Standford).
It’s that fire that burns inside of the professional boxer that drives him
to fight every game. Keith is making a wealthy fortune for his career and
he could retire on money but it is the passion from within that keeps him
fighting every game.
We live in a violent society and our sports reflect that of our
desires to see a man repeatedly deliver blow after blow until one opponent
cannot take any more. Boxing’s popularity is a perfect example of our
society. We love to see people fight and get hurt. Americans love to
watch boxing because it takes all the strength of one man or women and
attempts to overwhelm the opponent with his or her strength to win.
When amateur fighter Dave Engle, a friend of mine was asked what his
thoughts on the sport he said, “ I love it, it takes all the strength in a
man and puts it to the test in a brawl” (Hill). Even to amateurs who did
not receive a paycheck for their endurance and keen ability in the ring it
is the love for the game. They fight in the ring for the love of the game
and to them “ It is fun” said Engle (Hill).
Robert Johnson, a reporter for the Atlanta journal, said the main key
to being a popular boxer is you need to have an edgy attitude of macho
ness (Johnson). I would agree with him but add a little more. You need a
personality that uses physical force and all boxers love to try and physic
the opponent out. That does reflect the American society because today
American society has a mentality of macho ness. I think it is due to the
fact that we are a super power of the world. That we are very powerful in
foreign policy and it reflects on our professional, amateurs, sport
writers and spectators’ attitude in and watching ring.
Boxing is an American sport because it has America’s favorite
feature in a sport violence. Americans love to see violence in any sport
and boxing is full of blood and guts. In just would make sense if
Americans didn’t like it. It is the fast pace, one on one, all out draw
between two contenders that Americans love. Boxing is an American sport
because it takes all of one’s ability and gives it a challenge to see if
you can overwhelm the opponent and win the match. If boxing was not in
mainstream American sports I would be baffled. Boxing challenges a man’s
Boxing in America has risen in popularity I would say more than any
other country in the world. The sport has the entire American society
either full attention or interest in. Boxing is American because it’s a
challenge and Americans love challenges. They yearn for the moment of
triumph and glory and to stand up and be a super power of the world and to
be able to say I have passed the test.