Not only was his father forcing a particular vision of masculinity on him, but much of that stiffness was reinforced by the macho culture that had surrounded him-the very culture that had probably drawn his father to East L.A. They went on talking for a long time and the boy gave him a vivid sense of what it must have been like to ride out his strange family life. He wondered if he could somehow establish an understanding between father and son that would be sure to get him back on the karma gravy train. Jack Liffey told him about Leon Krane’s hard time in college. Mom and I had a special bond and it protected me. They may be all right eventually, if other people love them enough, but they are very wounded people. My brothers and my sister Lula accepted everything he forced on them and built their lives around his obsessions. It was a bit spooky, Ramon’s sense of inner peace. The boy looked at Jack Liffey for validation or at least understanding. You must be strong, and strong has a very special meaning to him. “Oh, yes.” The boy shook his head sadly again. “He has a thing about weakness, doesn’t he?” Opening yourself up that way is weakness.” “You mean, in addition to everything? Maybe if 1 painted jet planes or tanks or just boxers, dad would have accepted it, though, honestly, he didn’t want me to be an artist of any kind. The boy puffed his cheeks and shook his head a little. “If the subjects were a little odder, they would call me a concept artist, but some people compare me to Sister Corita. His silk screens were already selling and he could support himself. In another year he could go to art school and in the meantime he could stay at the center. While Sister Erasmus kept a discreet distance, the boy walked him around the studio and explained how he had found exactly what he wanted to do in life, exactly where he fit comfortably in the world. Jack Liffey explained his ground rules: that he found errant children, he never did anything against anyone’s will, and right now he only wanted to talk. Liffey,” the boy advanced and held out his hand. Liffey glanced at the nearest poem, beside the stalk of a big water-spotted iris.Īlmost a haiku, he thought, and not at all the mawkish teenage twaddle he would have expected. As Sister Erasmus whispered to the boy, Jack Around the walls and leaning against furniture were similar big flowers, each with four or five lines of poetry inscribed on it in a cursive hand. After years of trying to catch up to my older sister, I have discovered that although I will never be as smart or artistic as her, I do not need to be and that we are two different people who have different talents and strengths.Ramon was dabbing at a watercolor of a giant hibiscus on an easel. Almost everyone who has a sibling will be compared to each other at some point in life, expected to be equal if not better than the other person in every single aspect. However, I know that this is not unique to me. She yells at me for having a sweet tooth despite my sister being the one who eats a dessert everyday after dinner. My mom always comments on how she’s too skinny and needs to eat more, while I am eating too many sweets and need to lose weight, even though we are the similar in weight, height and clothing size. Her response was something along the lines of shock at how bad I was compared to my sister who excelled at it.Įven my parents constantly compare me against her. Turns out, I failed pretty badly and had trouble figuring out major from minor, authentic from plagal, a perfect fourth from a perfect fifth. She started off saying, “This shouldn’t be too hard since your sister is really good at this,” but my sister has always had a sensitive ear and could discern what notes were played.Īfter playing a chord, she asked “Which one is it: major third or minor third?” Very confused, I guessed, “Major third?” We repeated this several more times, before finally stopping. One day my teacher tested me on ear training, where she plays a chord and I have to say what it is. I remember being jealous of her in elementary school, wanting to be just like her. She is also musically gifted and can play a song just by listening to it a few times. I get good grades, but she gets almost perfect grades. People commonly hint at or sometimes even say straight up ask “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” She has always been the star of the family. I am no longer just Laura, and now have pressure to live up to her reputation. I am forever known to others, especially teachers and upperclassmen as my older sister’s sibling. I love my sister, but it is never enjoyable to be in another person’s shadow and continuously compared to them. “Oh, I know your sister!” These are the words that I always hear but never really want to.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |