What I Was, What I am, and What I Can Become

This is my favorite eassy that I have ever written. :)

I’m running around the house frantic. I’ve lost it again. How could this happen! I had it just this morning. After searching the house thoroughly three times, the blaming begins. “Who took my iPod? I swear if I find it in anyone’s room I’m going to super glue their fingers together!” Five minutes later mom is making dinner, and I hear “Tam you need to calm down I just found your iPod in the fridge!” Then I laugh as I remember setting it down in the fridge when I was getting a glass of milk. I lose everything and as much as I love my iPod I lose it all the time. But it never stays lost for long because I won’t sleep until it’s found. My iPod is my most valuable possession because it has so many memories wrapped up in it from the cover to the pictures to the songs.

            IPods were first released in October of 2001 according the article "Facts You Should Know About iPods” written by Roberto Sedycias. I received my very first iPod for Christmas in 2008. It was a second generation Nano. It was my first love until my first love came around. I treasured that piece of technology like nothing else. I parted with it the following Christmas because I got a new and improved iPod, a first generation iTouch. I gave my Nano to my aunt who had been using a Shuffle, which she then gave to my cousin. It was like a game of musical chairs, but with iPods. Departing with my Nano was a very difficult task for me, we’d shared a lot of good times together, but the pain didn’t last long. I quickly fell deeply in love with my new iPod Touch.

            Every Christmas we get together as a family, each family member draws a name from a hat and then buys a present for that person. As the season drew near to Christmas in 2010 we did our routine name drawing and my name fell into the hands of my younger brother Brett.  The day we’d all purchased our presents for rolled around and once more my favorite present revolved around my iPod. But this time was a little different. I didn’t fall instantly in love with this gift. It took some warming up to. I, in fact, hated this particular gift at first. It was one of the last presents under the tree on Christmas morning; it was wrapped up in a tiny box. My brother handed it to me and instructed me to open it. I opened the small package and inside was two square pieces of paper with a weird design and a ballerina printed on them. I looked up at him and thanked him. I must have looked confused because he quickly explained that the real present hadn’t arrived in the mail yet, but when it got here it would be a sticker cover for my iPod. I thanked him once more. Later on that day when I got my mom alone I asked her why she didn’t tell Brett that I didn’t like ballet anymore. She explained to me that she tried to tell him I didn’t like ballet as much as I used to. That made him sad; he thought that I still loved it. He told her that he’s spent a lot of time trying to find it and he thought I’d still like it because it had a dancer on it, and even if I didn’t like ballet I liked dance.

It came in the mail a week later. It was a hideous. The real deal wasn’t any better than the makeshift papers had been. It was made up of the ugliest shades and tints of browns and greens. People often comment on it and tell me they love my camouflage cover. When I let them take a closer look they realize it isn’t camouflage at all, it’s just an ugly blob of ballerina. At first I was reluctant to put it on, it would never come off and my iPod would be forever ugly. I finally came to term with it; it wasn’t ever going to look good to me. But I put in on out of the kindness of my heart. I didn’t want to hurt Brett’s feelings by not being grateful for his gift. I knew that he tried really hard to get me something I’d love. It’s supposed to be the thought that matters most any way, right? As time passed I grew accustomed to looking at the ugly ballerina, and it would make me chuckle. It would take me back and I’d think about how hard it was for me to let go of my pride and put it on my iPod. The sticker became a reminder of how much my brother loved me, and I grew to adore it. I couldn’t have received a better gift that Christmas morning. Some of the best gifts are unwrapped with time and not our hands.

            That is just the outside of my iPod. I love the inside just as much. One thing that my Nano couldn’t do that my new iTouch can is have applications. I use only use a few apps, my favorite being the photo app. It creates easy access to my photo albums. All my pictures are a simple touch away. They hold so many wonderful memories for me. There is one of me and my sister camping in the summer of 2007. I’m sitting on her shoulders and we’re both laughing, it’s clear that we were enjoying one another’s company. I can’t really remember what we did on that camping trip, and it’s ok because that’s not really the important thing. The significance of the picture is that you can tell my sister is my best friend just by looking at it. She’s the person I go to when I can’t trust anyone else. She’s taught me so much about myself and how to laugh things off. One time I came home from hanging out with some friends and I told her about this stupid boy that smashed my face into a plate of pancakes. I told her it was really upsetting to me and I just wanted to cry. She told me that in situations like that she just tries to laugh, and by laughing it puts things in perspective and she realizes it can be a funny thing instead of something to be mad about. I’ve really taken that advice to heart. I love that picture because it reminds me of the experiences that we’ve had that have brought us closer together and made us best friends.

Another picture that is important to me is from Fall 2009. It’s of me and the first boy I ever fell in love with. It was taken on the day we met. We are each holding a terribly carved pumpkin. The goal was to carve each other’s faces into the pumpkins. It was supposed to be a surprise but when I showed him my finished project utter shock was written all over his face. Neither of us are artists and our pumpkins were a little insulting, especially my pumpkin depicting his face. He laughed really hard at first, and then when he gained control of himself he frowned and said “you really think I’m that ugly?” One picture is of him holding “his face” and he’s frowning because of the hack job I did. The next picture is me holding “my face” I’m laughing partially from embarrassment of my artistic skill and partially because his pumpkin was almost as bad as mine. I’ve never laughed so much in my life as I did that day. Those pictures trigger the memory of falling in love for the first time. It only happens once. I wouldn’t ever want to forget the laughter and good times we shared, especially that first day.

            IPod’s are best known for the large number of songs they are able to hold. Nothing can make me nostalgic like hearing a song that takes me back to another time and place. Sometimes I like to go to my room all by myself and play my iPod on shuffle just to see where it will take me. Some songs make me gleeful while others can leave me feeling empty. “The Dance” by Garth Brooks always leaves me pondering life. I’ve often wondered what might have been in life, but that song always pulls me back to reality and makes me realize that I’m grateful for the way my life has played out. For example I have often wondered why my first love and I didn’t last. We were happy and we were perfect for each other. Sometimes in life the reasons are never apparent to us, but looking back now, I know that I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that dance for anything. “…If I`d only known how the king would fall, Hey who`s to say? You know I might have changed it all, And now I`m glad I didn`t know, The way it all would end the way it all would go, Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain, But I`d have had to miss the dance” (Brooks). Those words really put things in perspective for me, and I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end, or the way it all would go. If I did I never would have been brave enough to fall in love, and if falling in love was a mistake it was the best mistake I’ve ever made. Those memories have an infinite worth to me. Those moments shaped me.

I love music because it does something to me. It changes me. It can turn my cold heart warm. It makes it possible for me to feel pure emotion whether happy or sad. Music has a way of pulling my heart strings like nothing else can. There are a few artists who can break my heart or make me fall in love with a few chords and touching lyrics. Hearing the song “Forever and Always” by the band Parachute takes me back to the summer of 2011 to one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. My sister and I made it all the way up to the front of the stage. We had to push our way there and I remember exerting more energy in that single moment than I’d ever done before. It was more than worth it though, because I got to touch Will’s hand. Right after I touched him I felt all the energy drain from my body because the difficult task I’d just completed.  But the exhaustion didn’t last long, the crowd started to sing out at the top of their lungs and I remember feeling like I was a part of something bigger. As the words flowed from everyone’s lips I was energized with the feelings of unity and happiness. This world is huge and it seems like everyone wants something different from it. But right there in that moment we were all there for the same reason and the music united us in the same purpose. The feeling was invigorating. There was life in the crowd, and I was part of that life. I will never meet all the people that were in the crowd that day but I didn’t have to know them to feel a part of them. I remember the joy bubbled out of me and at times I wasn’t able to sing the words because my emotion was over flowing in the form of laughter. That song will always take me back to that time and that place where the music and the crowd filled me with life and energy.

            I love my iPod because every time I pick it up or turn it on it’s a trip down memory lane. In my opinion our memories are the greatest treasures we’ll ever have in life. “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose” (Kevin Arnold). I wouldn’t ever want to forget the experiences that have shaped me into who I am today. My iPod makes it possible for me to hold on to what I was, what I am, and what I can become.

Mashed Potatoes, Gravy, and Family Time

                In college sometimes you're asked to write papers about things you feel like you have no idea about. In my case I was supposed to write about a food item and connect it with my life. Not only that but the food item was supposed to tell something about me and the essay wasn't supposed to be focused on the food item. WHAT??? It made no sense to me; I had no idea where to begin so I just started writing. I thought my paper was complete BS, but how would my English professor know if the stories I told were true or not. I took my essay into the writing lab to make sure it was ready to turn in and my tutor had me read it aloud. As I did something very strange happened. I choked up a little and I could feel a lump in my throat. All of a sudden I realized how true everything I wrote about was and how much I love my family. This one is for you mama!“The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another’s desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together” (Emma Bombeck). Some families bond over relaxing hikes in the mountains or traveling together to far off lands. Not my family. We bond over Sunday dinner which consists of hot fluffy mashed potatoes, delicious savory brown gravy, and my mom’s specialty; lemon pepper roast.

            Dinner, by no means is a peaceful event, but it is a time we get together to eat mashed potatoes and bond. We bring our obnoxious ways with us to the table, and this is the one place where we feed off each other’s energy and laugh at the insanity of it all. Ang asks Brett to pass the potatoes and he takes it very literal. Mashed potatoes get clumped on my mom’s newly washed walls; she just sighs and says “you’re cleaning it up.” My question is who invented etiquette rules anyway? Did they really think it wise to use the football term “pass” to describe the motion of the food? I think it would be more proper to say “please deliver the potatoes to my place setting.” They really didn’t think that rule through, or they just didn’t have kids. Not to mention, the proper way to set a table includes several sets of utensils, which is just an invitation for kids to poke, stab, and prod the unfortunate person next to them. But that’s not all. Why use a napkin when you have a perfectly good table cloth right underneath your plate that is serving no specific purpose. Mom tries to explain that it is gross and bad manners to use the table cloth as a napkin, which gets us started on the topic of going green. Brett explains to her that he’s just trying to save mother earth; he’s willing to give up insignificant things such as napkins. Not only is he saving trees and preserving oxygen, but he’s also saving space in the landfills which is making someone somewhere very happy. Dinner topics consist of various debates such as that.

            You never want to be the one to finish off the gravy because it gives you an automatic shun for the night. If we watch a movie, you’ll be the one pushed on the floor because there isn’t ‘enough room’ for you on the comfy couch. Rock paper scissors is a must to determine who gets that last piece of roast beef. If we ever had a houseguest over, which my mother would never allow with our behavior, they would think that we were going to go without food for the next week. All of the kids turn into professional taste testers at the dinner table and if mom gets the wrong ratios in the gravy, she’ll hear about it for the next three hours. We can always tell when there isn’t as much air in the potatoes as normal. If she uses a different brand of lemon pepper seasoning we know just by the smell of it. Sometimes my mom tries to change it up to add some variety, but it throws off the whole equilibrium of the home. For example if mom prepares a vegetable other than the regular super sweet white corn, everyone feels disappointed and let down. Often times I don’t know how to eat my mashed potatoes and gravy without the corn sprinkled on top. When she doesn't prepare the corn as normal, someone has to go down stairs to get some out of the freezer and then we all huddle around the microwave as it cooks. The moment the microwave beeps that wonderful sound it’s a fight to the death over who gets to dish up their corn first. By the time your plate is garnished with all the tasty flavors and textures your food is cold, again causing an upset. Rule of thumb; variety is a horrific thing. Everyone loves the traditional Sunday dinner just the way it is.

Yes, I know it sounds like a crazy time, but we also have some really touching moments during these dinners. We tell each other what’s going on in our lives, our successes and failures. We get to know each other over this special meal. Now that three of the kids have moved out, Sunday dinners are even more special to us because we aren’t able to be together every week. Ryan lives nearby and he comes home every Sunday; nothing can keep him away from good old family time and a delicious homemade dinner. My sister lives in Chicago so when she comes home for the holidays we really relish in the moment and enjoy our time together. Now that I am a college student and suffer from malnutrition, these dinners mean a great deal to me when I go home. My mom loves cooking for us and bringing the whole gang together. We are all very busy with our lives but we know that no matter where life takes us we can always go home to a heartwarming meal and hilarious dinner conversation. Sometimes the only way my mom can get us all together is to bribe us with this wonderful dreamy meal. It works every time. No one can resist it. I remember the first time my sister came home from college my mom prepared this meal on a weekday and we all gathered together to enjoy it together. People postponed their plans so this event could take place. This meal doesn’t just fill our tummies, it fills our hearts too. It helps us to step back and realize we do have something in common. We make each other laugh, although we have different senses of humor, we find that they complement each other very nicely. Witty banter flies across the table leaving warmth in the air. An eruption of laughter and joy always comes after one of Brett’s serious comments followed by a lighthearted remark from me. This dinner brings us together and despite our imperfections, we bond and we love each other very much. I wouldn’t change my crazy family for the world and I have Sunday dinners and my mom to thank for our strong bond.

Looking back on my life and the hundreds of family dinners I’ve been to, I realize that life lessons weren’t just confined to the table. Before I came to school, my mom taught me how to make her famous mashed potatoes. I learned how to whip them to peak perfection and exactly how much salt is required to bring out all the flavors. Sunday just wouldn’t be Sunday without homemade “real” potatoes, as we call them. But, in order to make them correctly the recipe calls for milk, cream, and butter; luxuries I don’t have as a college student. My mother, being as amazing as she is, gave me “fake” potatoes as a substitute. I made them for my Sunday dinner my second week of being on my own and until that moment I’d never tasted something so atrocious in my entire life. Instant potatoes are a shame to the whole potato family. It’s a complete embarrassment to take something so perfect and pure and taint it with that repulsive after taste and poor quality. Sure, making mashed potatoes takes a while. You have to peel the potatoes, boil them, add ingredients, and then mash them, but they blow that instant nonsense out of the water. My mom has always told me that things that take time are of greater value than things that require little effort, turns out she was right.

Now that I spend Sunday’s away from my family I have a lot of time for reflection. I think about how those meals changed my life. My brothers and sister became my best friends through those dinners. It was because of those bonds that I feel safe turning to my family in times of trials. They give me lots of good advice and when I don’t take it they loved me through my misjudgments and mistakes. I learned the real meaning of patience and love. Patience is more than refraining from yelling in someone’s ear to pass the salt when it takes more than 5 seconds to get to you, it is true acceptance of their differences. In fact, it is embracing those differences. Now that I am gone I miss all the annoying things my family used to do. They sure are different, but it’s because of their weird quirks that I enjoyed being with them. I appreciate these bonds now more than ever. I also realize how much my mom did for us and how exhausted we must have made her. She knew that even though it was very difficult to get everyone in the same room, it was important to have this time together. I’ve learned great life lessons and I have my mom and mashed potatoes to thank for that.