I don’t know much about my family history, unfortunately.
Mostly English/Scotch/Cherokee
farmers from eastern Tennessee, Virginia and Kentucky on my mom’s side,
gradually moving west into Oklahoma with the railroads coming into the
territory after the Land Rush. No one knows anything about my dad’s side of the
family, but they came from North Carolina or Georgia, western Kansas and
southeast Colorado. Pretty sure there’s Irish blood in there somewhere, family
legend says from a band of pirates. We’re related to Thomas Jefferson and Tom
Coburn, which is sort of interesting. But anyway, for the most part we just
came from ordinary hard-working people, seeking to take care of their families
and pay the bills on time. A storytelling gene from Mom’s side is a tremendous
legacy to receive, as well as humor, but those don’t necessarily mesh very well
with the intense drive to succeed, which came through Dad’s people.
Doing some research on what my last
name means, a full translation would come up roughly to “A second pale green pine
tree in the western meadow by the rooster’s creek.” A tree just kind of stays
still and observes the world go by, which in a way fits my life and place in
the world so far. I’ve always loved telling or reading good stories, it’s why I
plan on working in journalism, which is about telling the news of our daily
lives in a clearly-understood way. And also, it sounds like a more realistic
way to earn a living than by trying to be a novelist full-time. Stories are the
most vital teaching tools in existence, keeping and sharing tales to children forms
a conscience, so to speak, hopefully giving them insight into how to live their
lives. G.K. Chesterton wrote eloquently about this in his essay titled “The
Ethics of Elfland”, far better than I could. One of the essays I wrote for Comp
II last spring was based on this premise, proving that it is something I
measure as sacred. Trees are covered in
a thick, sometimes scratched and scarred coating of bark, keeping the elements
out. It takes a while before I feel comfortable around people most of the time.
Suspicion comes easier than trust.
Like the Giving Tree in Shel
Silverstein’s book, I’ll try to do everything I can to help those I care about.
Helping others would be one of the driving forces behind my life, I guess, one
of the things I try to do. Whether
that’s by offering advice trying to guide friends through problems they may
face, or encouragement and prayer, I’ll try to lift their spirits or assist in
some task. That’s why I care so much about serving as a counselor each summer
at a church camp near Springfield, Missouri. Also, volunteering when possible
at homeless shelters, doing those behind-the-scenes duties so the full-time
people can spend more energy aiding the folks who really need it. While only
truly homeless for a few days, still, I know what that’s like, having been
through it, and so when I can I try to repay the aid we received by helping
those in the same situation.
Music can be a great teaching tool,
as well as a way to minister to others and preach truths effectively. Much like
poetry, lyrics must be forceful and compact in order to leave their mark and
help you remember them, which is why hymns are so wonderful, the way they can
explore the depths of theology. I play guitar and mandolin, and sometimes sing
and write songs, it’s a part of how I live, one of the ways I try to serve
Christ.
Another thing I will eagerly choose
is to spend time with animals as much as possible, taking care of them and
studying their habits and mannerisms. Cleaning would be another, whether that’s
from being part of a messy family, I’m not exactly sure, but life runs more
smoothly when things are organized. Attempting to spend money wisely would also
be something highly important, to keep enough laid back in case of unexpected
emergency or disaster.
There’s five of us kids in the
family, but occasionally I may say that I’m the oldest of six. And in a way,
that’s true. Between me and my goat-raising sister Courtney was Lindsay. I
never got to meet her, she was a miscarriage, but she would have been about a
year younger than me. Often wondered what life would be like if she lived,
that’s part of the reason my family is highly important, we have to treasure
the time we have with them before it’s too late. Cancer took my grandma when I
was eleven, that hurt so much, providing another reason to be thankful for
those I care about. Sometimes, though, family can be unrelated; friends counted
as almost like siblings, people from church like grandparents or aunts and uncles.
Gatto said that some aspects of
what defined us are family history, what’s sacred, acts of affirmation and acts
of refusal. One of the things I will try to avoid is yard work, because with
poor eyesight that can be very dangerous. Also, major home repairs, like
plumbing or carpentry, because I am ignorant in those areas. On a more serious
note, dating for dating’s sake, or having sex pre-martially. If I’m going to
date someone, I need to be able to realistically envision possibly being
married to them. And whenever I do get married, wouldn’t it be easier to start
that partnership with as little baggage as possible? Life itself will be hard
enough a challenge to deal with together. Besides, Scripture is very clear on
that point.
This is just a stab at trying to explain somewhat who I am and what
matters to me, these types of essays are always somewhat difficult to write. If
it was my blog it would probably be much easier, but on an essay there’s always
that nagging question “Is this too personal? Are they wanting to read this type
of thing?” But you said to be honest, and so I tried to answer those questions.
I’m just a student trying to survive college and whatever else young adulthood
brings, standing here quietly in my field of Tahlequah and trying to encourage
those I come across.
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