Response to "My Papa's Waltz"

***Finally, I can express my opinions in a place where every 2 seconds people aren’t shouting ‘racist’ or ‘H.A.M’ (cough cough Aaron and Gabriel, no help from Tomin)...***

So today we read ‘My Papa’s Waltz.” I want to start off by saying that every one has their own interpretations, and that is ok, but here is mine: I think the father is drunk, I think the ‘waltz’ is the father’s staggering around while his son is clinging on to him, I think that though maybe not intentionally, the father is hurting the son, and that even with all of this ‘drama’, the little boy calls it a waltz and still loves his father because it is hard for people to see the bad in their parents.

So, I’ll start with backing up to the father being drunk. First, there is whiskey on his breath. And yes, whiskey on your breath doesn’t automatically make you drunk, but when there is enough to ‘make a small boy dizzy’, yes not uncomfortable but DIZZY, something is up. Also, ‘every step you miss’ to me seems as if not that the father simply is getting the counts wrong, but that he is at least ‘tipsy’. Another thing is that the father is dirty with a ‘palm caked hard by dirt’ and a battered knuckle could mean that either the father is a construction worker as Charlie said, or that the dart is from being out late roaming the streets in a drunk frenzy, hurting himself or other people getting his hand dirty.

Another belief I have is that whether purposely or not, the father is hurting the son. “My right ear scraped a buckle” sounds pretty harsh, and “you beat time on my head” could mean a number of things from hurting him physically or by threats of memories and the future. Also, people say that since the mother is pretty much just being a bystander that the father isn’t drunk and possibly hurting his son, since if he was she would do something. Well, I hate to break it to people, but not every one is brave. What if this is a normal thing for the papa to be drunk, and in the past he has hit the mother too? Sure, I guess from mother’s we expect there to be a lot of protection for their children, but what about protecting themselves? If they get hurt, who knows what could happen to her son’s life without a mom?!

Another thing I believe is that the waltz is actually the father staggering around while his son clings to him. “Romping” means acting in a rough and noisy (boisterous) way, which could show up if the son is clinging on, and the father is angry and wants him off. The son says (the poem is in the boy’s perspective) “BUT I hung on like DEATH.” Hmm, interesting. The fact that the son used the word ‘death’ rather than something like ‘I hung on tight’ shows that possibly he is in a situation not so far from what brings death, or what emotions come with death. Maybe the boy doesn’t exactly know what ‘drunk’ is, but is a bit scared of his papa staggering and trying to shrug him off.

Also, usually when people say ‘but’, they are trying to justify something, or explain something. In the poem’s context, what is being explained or justified is that the whiskey on the father’s breath could make a small boy dizzy. The thing about this poem that I truly find so beautiful and true is that the little boy clearly loves his father. Whether actually dancing or getting abused, and being with a drunk or just tipsy father, the little boy wants to be and possibly dance with his father. He defends the whiskey on the breath, and clings on to him ‘for dear life’, whether for support or simply wanting love, when ‘waltzing’ and being doomed to bed. As I mentioned, for us (especially little boys, but even me sometimes), we look up to our parents, and so we find it hard to fault them. No matter what, (hopefully), we love our parents even if they ground us, take away the computer, etc. We all as teenagers have those times of ‘No one understands me!’ or ‘WHATEVER MOM!’ and then the occasional ‘I hate you!’, but how can we truly hate the people that provide so much for us? *rhetorical question* The son may be in the risk of getting seriously hurt by his drunk dad, but instead of thinking of that, he thinks his father’s staggers and pushes are a dance or waltz of a kind. The waltz of a son and his father.

Narrative Poem

Hello

Goodbye
I say as I wave to my parents

Though I’m nervous, I am a big girl
and I can do this
I can do this
and if my friends can do this
Then I Can Do This

right?

This place, it’s not a monster
it’s my new home, kind-of
I will love it, I’m sure
my friends love it
and I will love it

I walk up to a women waiting for me at the door
“Hey,” she says all i-won’t-remember-your-name
but why not tell it to me anyway?
I stutter it out and tell her about myself
say where I live, what pets I have, what I like to do
and she nods and points me up ‘that way’
I don’t see where she is pointing but I know I can find my way
my friends found there way and
I will find my way

am I cheating if I ask her again?

I walk up the hill, looking around as I go
it looks like a typical camp
trees, birds, rocks, plants
I take a left, like she said
and walk into the log cabin
other big-people greet me and I repeat everything I said to the other one
and since they seem a bit more interested
I tell them a bit more
and ask if I can have a top-bunk even though I am afraid of heights
but I can get over that
my friends got over their fears
and so I will get over mine

they say 'sure' enthusiastically
and one says “just like me. Adventurous”
I nod once and look down
they take my bags and put them in a closet
I walk up to a bed and wonder how the hell I am supposed to get up
climb? jump? fly?
I step onto the lower one, and for dear life fling myself up
my muscles strain, but thank god, I make it
and then I almost fall down a bit dizzy from the journey
but I stay put

A girl walks inside now, looking a bit pale like I’m sure I do
she follows the status-quo and keeps polite
her hands stick-straight at her side and then
she looks over at me
her eyes widen
she takes her bag and puts it
hesitantly
on the bed below mine
she waits a few seconds
I don’t move
and she sits down and looks up at me
I lean over, forget that there is a 99 percent chance that I will fall, and whisper

Hello.

Poem On An Important Event in My Life

He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
she smiles
he laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here I have the remedy"
I look up at him
and he looks down
his eyes google out of his head a bit

this must be your daughter

yes she says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before I stutter a hello
satisfied, her hand goes away to close the door and motions for him to
come in, come in
he walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
whenever you are sick, I will make this
he says
this will be good
she says
and flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
she says
fantastic, I'm starving
he says

Poem off of 9/11 photo

Once was America

2 down
A whole country to go

It's a beautiful day
A great day to kill
or starve a wife of love
and frighten a kid
when their mommy doesn't come pick them up from their clean and bright haven
maybe panic a nation
when hundreds die
under their pointed-up noses

We are the best
we are the beast

we hate them
they take and take and never give back
they put us in hell
so now
here and now
finally
we give it back
throw it in their faces

we will no longer live under their rule
we have come to conquer everything
from the moon to the core
the blazing hot core they believe they had a right to put a price tag on

we were here first
we will do the living
free from the chains of so-called democracy
they will regret all they ever did to me
me and my people
my country
my world
our world

they sit their running and screaming
asking what oh what lord did they do to deserve this
I will tell them
I will tell them loud and proud
we are the best
we are the beast

ha-ha

photo
photo credits to Rafael Fuchs, my father, shot as a view of 9.11 on 9.11

Response to Anne Sexton's "The Starry Night"

An aggressive peace, the words I think best capture the essence of emotion of Anne Sexton in her poem Starry Night. She frequently talks about dying, and getting swallowed, boiled, drowned, and isolated from the town down below, all things that can point to major anger and depression. But at the same time, through the anger, she sees the beauty of the starry night, with ‘no belly or cry’, alive parts of nature, and stars shining bright. Can we see beauty through even the most complicated and depressing (for lack of a better word) things?

In The Starry Night, it seems as if Anne is acknowledging that she is upset. In a way, being aware of your feelings calms you, giving us a sense of security. When we are angry, some like to let it boil down and maybe have some alone-time, where being isolated isn’t such a problem. We can all be our worst enemies, and sometimes when we can just think freely we can come to terms with ourselves, instead of storming off in a rage because of our anger, trying to punch someone. Maybe Anne isn’t so much of a crazy suicidal, but just trying to relate her feelings to the things around her. I know when I am angry, I think about dying. Ok, well, maybe less dying, and more simply leaving where we are and who we are, and being an observer (possibly on a hill looking down at a town and up at the stars, like Van Gogh). Dying is a natural part of life, it just happens to be what most people believe to be the end of our cycle, end equalling yikes.

At the same time though, we learned that Anne committed suicide! Huh. Interesting. I must say, some parts of suicide are sort of creepily simple. You control who you are, so why not control how you go? I know suicide usually makes people shudder, but is it always wrong and plain awful? Yes yes, it’s complicated, but maybe through Anne’s repeated ‘This is how/I want to die’ she was trying to say their is a beauty to death. It can be so peaceful, and even though she actually committed suicide from carbon monoxide poisoning in a locked car, drunk, you have to give her applause for coming up with a death that many people would be happy to live through. We all just believe what we see in movies, but in truth, death doesn’t have to be so bad, and anger doesn’t have to be so violent.

Analyzing Paintings

Painting: 'Landscape of Butterflies' by Salvador Dali


Observations
- wall of some sort is blocking out blue skies
- butterflies' shadows are distorted a bit
- butterflies are glowing
- small mountains in background
- butterflies are flying to get deeper in protection (?) of the wall

Inferences
- since they are flying more into wall, the wall may be protecting the butterflies
- the mountains and sky are some sort of reality, and maybe the shadows being distorted are showing how that reality is breaking
- the clouds in the sky represent a troubling thing
- the butterflies are (or think they are) in a better place than they were, with the wall protecting them
- mountains may represent past emotions or events

Interpretations
I think Dali is trying to say here is that when something upsets us, we believe that if we escape, everything will be ok again. The distorted shadows represent who the butterflies truly are, and we always try to leave behind who we are if we think we aren't good enough or are too afraid to take the next steps in our life. We as people tend to give in to critique and build an internal wall to try and stop it from hitting us, sometimes only working in the opposite way. We think disconnecting ourselves from the world will save us (hence the glowing of the butterflies), but really it hurts us even more.