This week we read two works that relate to the authors personal or familial and public identities, one by Amy Tan and one by Richard Rodriguez.
They both really dealt with their youth. Childhood is the time when we become who we are so to say, or at least really examine it. It is such an intense time that often seems so slow going. All one can really do is work on formulating their identity. It does make me think of people who may have lost their childhood from having to work or through some tragedy. Both the authors palette for painting the picture of their childhood is well formed. Writing about their lives no doubt has given them insights far beyond those of us who have not had or taken the time to ponder the subject.
I find myself mourning Rodriguez' loss to some degree of his spanish tongue. 'If only they just spoke a bit!' He doesn't relate the sentiment. He is him self, Richard Rodriguez. His public self to some degree became his private self. What he does remorse is the loss of his private life in the early days of his youth. Maybe for him he couldn't regain that with language. Besides the point about her public face presented after her death, I struggled somewhat with what he was trying to say with the story about his grandmother, a beautiful anecdote. Maybe what he is saying is that its the people and the memory of the people who show him back to his self. His grandmother did pass when he was nine, sort of the same time he was discovering his new fully cultivated public self.
Dealing with being an outsider is another major theme of the two essays. Of course when else but childhood is this more intense. Maybe parenthood? The parents in the essays struggle so much with their desire to put their kids in the best position in life, while dealing with their own inadequacies as an immigrant.
The American Dream is a powerful, powerful draw. The people who maybe came here buying in to the idea, first of all must be a special kind, and must have had so much hope for the things America held possible. So I dare say the children of those folks, who are many of us, have a lot of explaining to do when they are forced to live in the America of Reality rather than the one of Dreams. It must be tough to see ones children as the first truly "american" person one gets to intimately know.
So what do the pieces say of their identity? The authors certainly don't shy away from their past. They uplift it. It seems to have given them a better sense of who they are. For Amy Tan her mother was an adversary, a loving one in ways, but an adversary nonetheless for her to push against and by doing so find her limits and passion. Rodriguez developed a keen awareness from living in his two worlds, as well as stout positions regarding who we are and as Americans.
As we then get older, and watch our parents age, as the authors do in their pieces, we reconcile our childhood struggles with identity, or hopefully so, to become who we are. This reconciliation can be a painful process and a cloudy endeavor. I had to look up the dictionary meaning of "identity" a number of times while writing this. I keep looking for some elusive quality to tell me "oh thats what it is!" But I still haven't found it. This speaks to "identity's" importance to me and I think us as maybe Americans. I don't know I can only speak for myself. Does everyone regard it with such importance? Do some just look at the word and say: "oh it's just some distinguishing characteristics blah blah, no big whoop"? But I can't seem to get over just what the hell do I say when asked of my identity?! Maybe the exercise is to get to the point of "it's no biggie." "We are all one!" But I feel its evident when you meet someone who lacks that 'sense of identity' or is questioning it. But what is it they lack? As parents I think it may become especially important because we want to instill it in our kids, that confidence Rich-heard's parents wanted to instill in him. That which was evident in the voices of the gringos. Or in Amy's high flying piano antics. But confidence isn't the whole story. It can be false. It can also be broken while one's identity remains intact. So where does our identity lay? Maybe in the story. Maybe in our past, we are what we do. Maybe inside the people we hold dear. Rodriguez' Granny no doubt had no words for the store clerk, but Richard did, and I bet she had the poise.
They both really dealt with their youth. Childhood is the time when we become who we are so to say, or at least really examine it. It is such an intense time that often seems so slow going. All one can really do is work on formulating their identity. It does make me think of people who may have lost their childhood from having to work or through some tragedy. Both the authors palette for painting the picture of their childhood is well formed. Writing about their lives no doubt has given them insights far beyond those of us who have not had or taken the time to ponder the subject.
I find myself mourning Rodriguez' loss to some degree of his spanish tongue. 'If only they just spoke a bit!' He doesn't relate the sentiment. He is him self, Richard Rodriguez. His public self to some degree became his private self. What he does remorse is the loss of his private life in the early days of his youth. Maybe for him he couldn't regain that with language. Besides the point about her public face presented after her death, I struggled somewhat with what he was trying to say with the story about his grandmother, a beautiful anecdote. Maybe what he is saying is that its the people and the memory of the people who show him back to his self. His grandmother did pass when he was nine, sort of the same time he was discovering his new fully cultivated public self.
Dealing with being an outsider is another major theme of the two essays. Of course when else but childhood is this more intense. Maybe parenthood? The parents in the essays struggle so much with their desire to put their kids in the best position in life, while dealing with their own inadequacies as an immigrant.
The American Dream is a powerful, powerful draw. The people who maybe came here buying in to the idea, first of all must be a special kind, and must have had so much hope for the things America held possible. So I dare say the children of those folks, who are many of us, have a lot of explaining to do when they are forced to live in the America of Reality rather than the one of Dreams. It must be tough to see ones children as the first truly "american" person one gets to intimately know.
So what do the pieces say of their identity? The authors certainly don't shy away from their past. They uplift it. It seems to have given them a better sense of who they are. For Amy Tan her mother was an adversary, a loving one in ways, but an adversary nonetheless for her to push against and by doing so find her limits and passion. Rodriguez developed a keen awareness from living in his two worlds, as well as stout positions regarding who we are and as Americans.
As we then get older, and watch our parents age, as the authors do in their pieces, we reconcile our childhood struggles with identity, or hopefully so, to become who we are. This reconciliation can be a painful process and a cloudy endeavor. I had to look up the dictionary meaning of "identity" a number of times while writing this. I keep looking for some elusive quality to tell me "oh thats what it is!" But I still haven't found it. This speaks to "identity's" importance to me and I think us as maybe Americans. I don't know I can only speak for myself. Does everyone regard it with such importance? Do some just look at the word and say: "oh it's just some distinguishing characteristics blah blah, no big whoop"? But I can't seem to get over just what the hell do I say when asked of my identity?! Maybe the exercise is to get to the point of "it's no biggie." "We are all one!" But I feel its evident when you meet someone who lacks that 'sense of identity' or is questioning it. But what is it they lack? As parents I think it may become especially important because we want to instill it in our kids, that confidence Rich-heard's parents wanted to instill in him. That which was evident in the voices of the gringos. Or in Amy's high flying piano antics. But confidence isn't the whole story. It can be false. It can also be broken while one's identity remains intact. So where does our identity lay? Maybe in the story. Maybe in our past, we are what we do. Maybe inside the people we hold dear. Rodriguez' Granny no doubt had no words for the store clerk, but Richard did, and I bet she had the poise.