I haven't really blogged in awhile, but I'm going to update quite a bit more frequently as we do this next portion of the class. Because I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with this yet.
I'm not really sure anyone does. This isn't going to be the blog I use to answer Suzy's questions from class on Monday. This is more of a sounding board kind of thing.
I've looked through my folder of stuff a few times and HOLY COW! What IS this stuff??? A lot of it is completely illegible. And if I CAN read it, I don't really know what it's talking about. There's one paper that lists what I would imagine as being coordinates for places on the lake (9. Dance Hall. 11. Drug Store), but I don't know where the actual map is. There are a couple different possibilities, but I don't know just by looking.
I'm fairly confident I can figure this out. It's going to take a lot more work than the first part of this class though. At least untill I find a way to zero in on a specific aspect of the town.
I still think this is going to be fun. But it's going to be super tough.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Next Step
I don't really have a whole lot to add this week other than to say that I'm actually excited about starting this new part of the class. I have nothing against the family history portion, but I'm definately more into looking at outside things. I've known parts of this story about my family from just by living, so it's not as enthralling to me as researching things I don't really know. That, and I love being able to find out things that other people didn't know. I have a feeling that's going to be far more prevalent in the Lake James section.
I think a lot of that has to do with my history background. Since the start of high school, I haven't really found something I like as much as I like reading about historical stuff. I'm one of the only people I know that read my history textbook in high school cover to cover even though we only had to read about 3/4 of it. So I think that this next step is going to be a lot of fun. I also just like a change so I'm ready to start on something else.
I might post something more later, but honestly, I don't really know what else to say.
Keep it realer
I think a lot of that has to do with my history background. Since the start of high school, I haven't really found something I like as much as I like reading about historical stuff. I'm one of the only people I know that read my history textbook in high school cover to cover even though we only had to read about 3/4 of it. So I think that this next step is going to be a lot of fun. I also just like a change so I'm ready to start on something else.
I might post something more later, but honestly, I don't really know what else to say.
Keep it realer
Friday, February 20, 2009
Interesting Distractions
I'm beginning to find that I love and hate the area we work in in the library. I love it because there are so many interesting things to look at. I hate it because THERE ARE SO MANY INTERESTING THINGS TO LOOK AT.
A couple weeks ago Beth and I wandered into the other wing that houses all the stuff from foreign writers. It was cool picking up a 400 page document and seeing it written all in German. There were also really really old manuscripts that did things like trace genealogy to John Adams. And it did so really well. Some of the documents use that crazy old spelling where an "s" looks like an "f" and they say "colour" instead of color. It's just fascinating how far language has actually come in the last few centuries.
I also ran into directories from my hometown. I honestly spent 20 minutes looking up where my dad lived when he was a kid. The directories are crazy. They list every person by the street they lived on followed by their address. When you find the name, they have the person's occupation listed right after and says how many people are in the family. There are old advertisements for businesses that went under when I was little. However, seeing them jogged my memory about the commercials they used to run on TV. Though it's not really related to my project at all, it's interesting seeing how something as simple as a cartoon character in a glorified phone book can bring up memories of stuff that happened when I was 5.
Finally, there are records and histories of every town and county in Indiana. I spent a bit more wasted time looking at the histories of Elkhart. Apparently, the Beardsley family bought the town from Chief Pierre Moran for 5 bucks.
Before you consider that a scam, remember, we have a decrepit strip mall and ghetto middle school named after the chief. So his memory will live on forever...or until the city decides to give up on those areas completely.
Moral of the story...go to the library with a purpose. Otherwise, it's just a waste of your time. Even if it's still really interesting.
A couple weeks ago Beth and I wandered into the other wing that houses all the stuff from foreign writers. It was cool picking up a 400 page document and seeing it written all in German. There were also really really old manuscripts that did things like trace genealogy to John Adams. And it did so really well. Some of the documents use that crazy old spelling where an "s" looks like an "f" and they say "colour" instead of color. It's just fascinating how far language has actually come in the last few centuries.
I also ran into directories from my hometown. I honestly spent 20 minutes looking up where my dad lived when he was a kid. The directories are crazy. They list every person by the street they lived on followed by their address. When you find the name, they have the person's occupation listed right after and says how many people are in the family. There are old advertisements for businesses that went under when I was little. However, seeing them jogged my memory about the commercials they used to run on TV. Though it's not really related to my project at all, it's interesting seeing how something as simple as a cartoon character in a glorified phone book can bring up memories of stuff that happened when I was 5.
Finally, there are records and histories of every town and county in Indiana. I spent a bit more wasted time looking at the histories of Elkhart. Apparently, the Beardsley family bought the town from Chief Pierre Moran for 5 bucks.
Before you consider that a scam, remember, we have a decrepit strip mall and ghetto middle school named after the chief. So his memory will live on forever...or until the city decides to give up on those areas completely.
Moral of the story...go to the library with a purpose. Otherwise, it's just a waste of your time. Even if it's still really interesting.
When I Can't
I figured we're all getting ready to start actually writing things down for this assignment. But, if you're anything like me, you have a hard time getting started. I consider myself to be a procrastinator. It's not because I don't enjoy writing once I get started. It's more that I'm too afraid to stop myself once I start.
I'm the kind of writer that goes start to finish without much stopping. Rarely will I start a paper, write a few pages, take a break for an hour, come back and write another page, leave the rest of it for later. I just can't do that. If I do, I completely lose track of what I'm doing and I can't get back into a rhythm. I actually wrote my 25 page senior history project in about 8 hours. Non-stop. Taking breaks just long enough to use the bathroom.
Some people think that's just plain crazy. But it's the only way I know how to write. I guess that's what's bugging me about this project (the writing part). I'm having to constantly remind myself that I'm doing something different. This multi-genre thing is nothing like something I've written before. It's essentially a lot of short papers centered around a similar topic. I have to remind myself that I don't have to do this all in one shot. If I did, I would probably do a disservice to this kind of assignment. I want it to have a feeling to it, and if I write the way I normally do, the sentiment probably won't show up.
So what I have to do is just not be afraid of failing at this and just have fun writing.
Here are some things I do instead of write. Some are helpful and others are just laziness
Helpful
1. Minesweeper. Seriously. It gets your mind completely off focus which is a lot of times what I need to regain the focus.
2. Shower. I've come up with my best ideas while in the shower. So if I'm stuck at all, that's where I go.
3. Exercise. Again, it's the complete lack of focus on writing. I think that if we're too preoccupied with the outcome, the writing cannot live on its own.
Laziness
1. Sleep. My worst enemy when I have to write. I wind up saying, "Eh. I'll just do this later." I DON'T lose the focus, am preoccupied with worry, and feel like I'm copping out. I don't do this as much anymore.
2. TV. Enough said.
3. The Internet. I'm actually kind of glad I don't have access to the Internet at my house anymore. It's pretty much the world's biggest time suck.
I'm sure there are other things and I know there are things that other people do to avoid writing. And it's fascinating, because like I said, I ENJOY writing. So why do I put it off?
It's a life mystery.
I'm the kind of writer that goes start to finish without much stopping. Rarely will I start a paper, write a few pages, take a break for an hour, come back and write another page, leave the rest of it for later. I just can't do that. If I do, I completely lose track of what I'm doing and I can't get back into a rhythm. I actually wrote my 25 page senior history project in about 8 hours. Non-stop. Taking breaks just long enough to use the bathroom.
Some people think that's just plain crazy. But it's the only way I know how to write. I guess that's what's bugging me about this project (the writing part). I'm having to constantly remind myself that I'm doing something different. This multi-genre thing is nothing like something I've written before. It's essentially a lot of short papers centered around a similar topic. I have to remind myself that I don't have to do this all in one shot. If I did, I would probably do a disservice to this kind of assignment. I want it to have a feeling to it, and if I write the way I normally do, the sentiment probably won't show up.
So what I have to do is just not be afraid of failing at this and just have fun writing.
Here are some things I do instead of write. Some are helpful and others are just laziness
Helpful
1. Minesweeper. Seriously. It gets your mind completely off focus which is a lot of times what I need to regain the focus.
2. Shower. I've come up with my best ideas while in the shower. So if I'm stuck at all, that's where I go.
3. Exercise. Again, it's the complete lack of focus on writing. I think that if we're too preoccupied with the outcome, the writing cannot live on its own.
Laziness
1. Sleep. My worst enemy when I have to write. I wind up saying, "Eh. I'll just do this later." I DON'T lose the focus, am preoccupied with worry, and feel like I'm copping out. I don't do this as much anymore.
2. TV. Enough said.
3. The Internet. I'm actually kind of glad I don't have access to the Internet at my house anymore. It's pretty much the world's biggest time suck.
I'm sure there are other things and I know there are things that other people do to avoid writing. And it's fascinating, because like I said, I ENJOY writing. So why do I put it off?
It's a life mystery.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Who Done It?
The only person I know in my family who does genealogical work is my second cousin on my mom's side. She has been researching my mom's side of the family for a really long time. From what I recall, she has been doing research off and on since she was in college. I honestly don't know of anyone else in my family who has taken the time to actually do the research and write something up. However, my best friend's mom also got really into genealogical research and spent a few years doing it. She even traveled all the way to Colorado to meet with detached family members.
So, the men have been fairly well shut out of the process.
However, this does not mean that the men are absent from my family traditions.
My dad is huge on traditional things, particularly around the holidays. He has been the one to cling onto such old school Miller family traditions as trimming the tree a certain way, having a fire going on Christmas morning, and cooking an elaborate meal (Usually to a ridiculous amount of personal scrutiny). This has actually been the first year that I can remember that we didn't have a special day set aside for getting together with family on Christmas. It has been a rough year for the other members of my immediate family, so the traditions had to fall a bit short.
Based on these recalled memories, I would say that there definately is a bit of a gender slant on preserving family. The males in my family are far more into preserving the here and now. They like to hang on to the various stories, things we do outside, and traditional things and places to cook. The females seem more concerned with family stuff that has happened in the past. I believe a lot of this has to do with the fact that the females in my family are having to deal with family members leaving home. I feel this makes them more sentimental about figuring out where they came from. I just have a feeling that men tend to see preserving traditions as more practical, and therefore care more about keeping them intact. Females tend to start wondering about their family at a certain age, particularly when life starts changing a lot (i.e. children leaving for school, parents beginning to die, etc)
So, the men have been fairly well shut out of the process.
However, this does not mean that the men are absent from my family traditions.
My dad is huge on traditional things, particularly around the holidays. He has been the one to cling onto such old school Miller family traditions as trimming the tree a certain way, having a fire going on Christmas morning, and cooking an elaborate meal (Usually to a ridiculous amount of personal scrutiny). This has actually been the first year that I can remember that we didn't have a special day set aside for getting together with family on Christmas. It has been a rough year for the other members of my immediate family, so the traditions had to fall a bit short.
Based on these recalled memories, I would say that there definately is a bit of a gender slant on preserving family. The males in my family are far more into preserving the here and now. They like to hang on to the various stories, things we do outside, and traditional things and places to cook. The females seem more concerned with family stuff that has happened in the past. I believe a lot of this has to do with the fact that the females in my family are having to deal with family members leaving home. I feel this makes them more sentimental about figuring out where they came from. I just have a feeling that men tend to see preserving traditions as more practical, and therefore care more about keeping them intact. Females tend to start wondering about their family at a certain age, particularly when life starts changing a lot (i.e. children leaving for school, parents beginning to die, etc)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Project Progress
Woah. So this thing is due fairly soon. But I'm not as worried about it as I was a few weeks ago. At least now I know basically what I want to be doing. So here it is:
I have decided to focus my research on the life and death of my great-grandparents on my mom's side. They died in 1970 because of a head on collision that completely destroyed the car they were driving. And most of their bodies as well. It was apparently one of the worst car accidents in Elkhart County history. At least that is what Mom tells me. This may sound incredibly morbid to you, but there is definitely a more noble cause behind this subject.
It is my wish to display the importance placed on the existence of grandparents. I have a lot of memories of my own grandparents on both sides, and I know my mom has memories of her's. She has told me many times how she used to love watching her Grandma Kane (one half of the people I am researching) undo her little hair bun and watch it all fall down to her feet. My mom was pretty young when her grandparents died, and it's amazing to me how she can have such a vivid memory at such an early age. But how much of that is embellishment, and how much is true memory? I have a feeling that we remember things with an incredible amount of bias when we are younger, because we have very few references for comparison until we're well into grade school. That being said, are those biases wrong?
Absolutely not. They are OUR memories. And if I get nothing else out of this class and the stuff we are reading, it's that memories make up a large part of how we perceive ourselves. By delving further into this idea, and by talking with my aunts on the same topic, I can more fully understand how I may have inherited MY perceptions of grandparents.
It's all very Freud. Well maybe not him....but he's the only psyche psychologist I know by name.
By the same token, understanding our memories allows us to further explore how we operate on other levels, most notably in writing and communication. I want this project to memorialize my great-grandparents, but I also want it to evoke memories, perceptions of how we view elders, and ultimately, how we view ourselves BECAUSE of those memories.
In order to do this, I have decided to work on a multi-genre research project. I expressed my desire to try something different early in the semester (I think in my first blog) and this is definitely it. (side note: I spell "definitely" wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME!!!) The other genres I intend to use fall heavily on narrative and playwrighting. I have a great interest in playwrighting (I've actually written a couple things but am just too afraid to see them criticized) and I feel that this would be a perfect genre for delving into thoughts right before the accident happened, or in showing how my mom related to her grandma. Another genre I want to incorporate is music. I feel that using lyrics to popular songs at the times I am discussing can put the lives of my great-grandparents in yet another context.
Honestly, this is probably a project I could work on for four or five years. And even more honestly, I don't really care if I get an A...so long as it makes my mom cry. :)
With happiness in remembrance of course.
Again, feel free to make any other suggestions on things that might be cool to see in this kind of paper. I know at least a couple of us are doing this, so maybe we can help each other out.
Peace, love, and firecrackers.
I have decided to focus my research on the life and death of my great-grandparents on my mom's side. They died in 1970 because of a head on collision that completely destroyed the car they were driving. And most of their bodies as well. It was apparently one of the worst car accidents in Elkhart County history. At least that is what Mom tells me. This may sound incredibly morbid to you, but there is definitely a more noble cause behind this subject.
It is my wish to display the importance placed on the existence of grandparents. I have a lot of memories of my own grandparents on both sides, and I know my mom has memories of her's. She has told me many times how she used to love watching her Grandma Kane (one half of the people I am researching) undo her little hair bun and watch it all fall down to her feet. My mom was pretty young when her grandparents died, and it's amazing to me how she can have such a vivid memory at such an early age. But how much of that is embellishment, and how much is true memory? I have a feeling that we remember things with an incredible amount of bias when we are younger, because we have very few references for comparison until we're well into grade school. That being said, are those biases wrong?
Absolutely not. They are OUR memories. And if I get nothing else out of this class and the stuff we are reading, it's that memories make up a large part of how we perceive ourselves. By delving further into this idea, and by talking with my aunts on the same topic, I can more fully understand how I may have inherited MY perceptions of grandparents.
It's all very Freud. Well maybe not him....but he's the only psyche psychologist I know by name.
By the same token, understanding our memories allows us to further explore how we operate on other levels, most notably in writing and communication. I want this project to memorialize my great-grandparents, but I also want it to evoke memories, perceptions of how we view elders, and ultimately, how we view ourselves BECAUSE of those memories.
In order to do this, I have decided to work on a multi-genre research project. I expressed my desire to try something different early in the semester (I think in my first blog) and this is definitely it. (side note: I spell "definitely" wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME!!!) The other genres I intend to use fall heavily on narrative and playwrighting. I have a great interest in playwrighting (I've actually written a couple things but am just too afraid to see them criticized) and I feel that this would be a perfect genre for delving into thoughts right before the accident happened, or in showing how my mom related to her grandma. Another genre I want to incorporate is music. I feel that using lyrics to popular songs at the times I am discussing can put the lives of my great-grandparents in yet another context.
Honestly, this is probably a project I could work on for four or five years. And even more honestly, I don't really care if I get an A...so long as it makes my mom cry. :)
With happiness in remembrance of course.
Again, feel free to make any other suggestions on things that might be cool to see in this kind of paper. I know at least a couple of us are doing this, so maybe we can help each other out.
Peace, love, and firecrackers.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
My Summer Place
Another 90 degree summer day means another day at Grandma’s house in Bristol, Indiana. More specifically, the day means hours upon hours of play in the old concrete, kidney shaped swimming pool. Through the course of the day, I challenge my sister to a dive-off, pretend I am a doctor trying to purify a giant vat of acid, and use the same Snoopy life vest my mother used to keep myself from drowning while playing like a big boy in the deep end. In this pool I have seen many stages of my own development: from getting my toes wet for the very first time with Grandpa at the age of 1, to using water wings on my own, to learning to dive. This place is where I could be anything I wanted to be without being judged. Imagination had an unrestricted reign, and hours ran away faster than the ripples caused by my multiple cannon ball dives. The swimming pool holds more memories of my childhood than any other place. It pains me to no end that my children will never be able to experience that pool in the way I, my sister, my mother, my aunts, and my cousins all have since its installment in 1968.
My grandfather, who passed away in 1994 of colon cancer, installed the pool so that his youngest daughter (my mother) could have a safe place to play with her friends. Some may feel that a pool is certainly not safe, and in some respects I would agree. In fact, this very pool where I spent the majority of my summer days until I was 12 caused my Uncle John to break his arm (after trying to go down the slide standing straight up), saw the near drowning of a distant family member at a reunion, and cut my feet (due to the raised concrete) more times than I can count. Despite all this, my mother states that the pool became the center piece of my family. No matter what dispute may have been going on, time passed in the pool had a mythical quality. The battles of everyday life in the outside world had no grounds in this place. A hot temper could be easily doused by the splash of a playing child. This is what made the swimming pool such a magical place in my early life.
Though my grandmother is still alive today, she is currently losing a long battle with Alzheimer’s disease. Because of this, my family was forced to put her in an assisted living facility and sell the property that has always been “Grandma’s House.” She remembers virtually nothing about what happened 3 minutes ago, but Grandma still has vast memories of the swimming pool. I am not allowed to bring the house up in conversation since she does not know the house has been sold, but in my observations of conversations between her and my mother, she constantly brings up the pool. She talks about needing to drain it and get it repainted; she mentions the need of installing a new diving board; and she even says she cannot wait until the summer comes so she can help the kids restock the pool toys. All of these activities are things we did together to get ready for the new swim season, and though I have not participated in these activities for nearly six years, the memories are still strong. Even a woman whose mind is slowly slipping away still has vivid memories of this special place. That alone should be a tribute to the swimming pool’s lasting place in the lore of my family.
The sun sets on another perfect day at the pool, and I am forced by my mom to finally get out and dry off. The air has cooled considerably since we arrived around noon, and I actually shiver in my Ninja Turtles towel. Grandpa sees my shivering and uses his large, strong hands to warm me up with friction. He then picks me up and threatens to throw me back in the pool, and I protest through giggles and screams until he puts me down. I wish now that he never would have put me down. Perhaps then I could have shared this special place with my future family. Soon the pool will be filled in with the very same concrete that gave it life and it will pass from Grandma’s House as a physical place forever. But it will never lose its place in my memories. My sister’s memories. My mom’s memories. Or even those of my grandma.
My grandfather, who passed away in 1994 of colon cancer, installed the pool so that his youngest daughter (my mother) could have a safe place to play with her friends. Some may feel that a pool is certainly not safe, and in some respects I would agree. In fact, this very pool where I spent the majority of my summer days until I was 12 caused my Uncle John to break his arm (after trying to go down the slide standing straight up), saw the near drowning of a distant family member at a reunion, and cut my feet (due to the raised concrete) more times than I can count. Despite all this, my mother states that the pool became the center piece of my family. No matter what dispute may have been going on, time passed in the pool had a mythical quality. The battles of everyday life in the outside world had no grounds in this place. A hot temper could be easily doused by the splash of a playing child. This is what made the swimming pool such a magical place in my early life.
Though my grandmother is still alive today, she is currently losing a long battle with Alzheimer’s disease. Because of this, my family was forced to put her in an assisted living facility and sell the property that has always been “Grandma’s House.” She remembers virtually nothing about what happened 3 minutes ago, but Grandma still has vast memories of the swimming pool. I am not allowed to bring the house up in conversation since she does not know the house has been sold, but in my observations of conversations between her and my mother, she constantly brings up the pool. She talks about needing to drain it and get it repainted; she mentions the need of installing a new diving board; and she even says she cannot wait until the summer comes so she can help the kids restock the pool toys. All of these activities are things we did together to get ready for the new swim season, and though I have not participated in these activities for nearly six years, the memories are still strong. Even a woman whose mind is slowly slipping away still has vivid memories of this special place. That alone should be a tribute to the swimming pool’s lasting place in the lore of my family.
The sun sets on another perfect day at the pool, and I am forced by my mom to finally get out and dry off. The air has cooled considerably since we arrived around noon, and I actually shiver in my Ninja Turtles towel. Grandpa sees my shivering and uses his large, strong hands to warm me up with friction. He then picks me up and threatens to throw me back in the pool, and I protest through giggles and screams until he puts me down. I wish now that he never would have put me down. Perhaps then I could have shared this special place with my future family. Soon the pool will be filled in with the very same concrete that gave it life and it will pass from Grandma’s House as a physical place forever. But it will never lose its place in my memories. My sister’s memories. My mom’s memories. Or even those of my grandma.
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