Guy Davenport describes his family's ritual of hunting for arrowheads as a way
to talk about his formation as an academic. Read this (smart, engaging) essay and think about the experiences that have shaped you as
someone who loves to learn. (After all, that is why you are here, right?)
This piece
is reprinted here (scroll down to
it, or read the intro) at Harper's.
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I love this essay because it helps me understand how my childhood also affected my philosophy and the way I go about things. I found it very interesting how he mentioned that childhood has no introspection; it is a time where worldviews and patterns are formed outside of conscious thought. As a child my favorite past times were reading and building legos, both of which have shaped the way I think. When you build things with small pieces, you have to search for a long time and try different solutions to get it just right, because you are creating something from scratch and you want it to be as good as possible. I would be willing to spend hours trying to get the smallest aspect built the way I liked it. As a young adult basically "building" my future, I can see the lasting affects of that lifestyle. I think it is good that I want to do the best things with my life, but it is incredibly stressful because I am always worrying about what I'm going to do and what classes and and major(s) to do. In high school I had to overcome social patterns that I had developed from reading so much; I was used to stories and adventures unfolding before me without having to think of what to say, and becoming a social person was very difficult for me. I also agree with Davenport's statement that it's more about the searching and the journey than the goal. I've really been feeling it in college; I've had some moments when I've stopped to think and realized that I often live like I'm just getting through the day so I can reach some eventual goals, but I realize that if I don't appreciate the here and now I'm wasting most of my life. It's about having joy and peace in the everyday moments. I think this essay is a insightful perspective on how our youth can deeply affect us.
ReplyDeleteImagination provides hope. Without curiosity, dreams and aspirations, human nature would be completely transformed. Hope may not even exist if those basics of humanity are removed. Davenport “learned from a whole childhood of looking in fields how the purpose of things ought perhaps to remain invisible, no more than half known,” yet human nature desires to have control and an understanding about everything. As a child, trying to control one's life and understand the inner workings of the universe does not even cross one's mind, but as each individual matures hope seems to diminish and the need for control and knowledge strengthens. Knowledge is vital to a successful life; however, the ignorance and imagination one has as a child, truly is a state of bliss. Likewise, babies embody hope, and, as a child, that hope is still present through one's imagination. The world is not nearly as corrupt as an adult would see the world through the eyes of a child. That's part of what makes growing up so difficult. One must move past his or her idealized view of the world and, in the process of growing up, accept the reality that there is corruption and hope is not an ever-present feature in the world. The little things one discovers as a child, like an arrowhead, is a herculean success and curiosity and hope thrives from such discoveries; where as, as an adult, success is typically defined by culture as riches and wealth. I agree with Davenport's point that “it took a while for [him] to realize that people can grow up without being taught to see, to search surfaces for all the details, to check out a whole landscape for what it has to offer” because, inevitably, as one matures one's innocence and ignorance is replaced by experiences of what the world is actually like. The dreams and imaginations become a memory instead of a way to view life. On a personal note, hope has been my foundation. I desire to learn because I am always striving toward my hope to mentor others and that is only possible through possessing knowledge. There have not been exact experiences that have been a catalyst for me to desire to learn, but seeing the impact others have made in other people's lives has inspired me to chase after that same achievement.
ReplyDeleteThe reminiscent mood and tone of Guy Davenport’s essay certainly set me up as a reader to reminisce about my own childhood, comparing my experiences with his. What really caught my eye was when Davenport said: “Childhood is spent without introspection, in unreflective innocence. Adolescence turns its back on childhood in contempt and sometimes shame. We find our childhood later, and what we find in it is full of–astounding surprises.” I find that I completely fit this description. As a child, I never really stopped to think back on things, including the times during my parents’ brief separation stages. I simply went along with the situation; not really questioning what was happening or feeling much sadness at all. As a younger teenager, when I began to develop the capabilities of reflection and slightly deeper thought, I would feel contempt about the separations, as Davenport said, and try to set blame on someone without further thought into specifically why the separations occurred. Nowadays, I have begun to think more into past events, questioning the hows and the whys this time instead of just the who, what, and when.
ReplyDeleteTwo traditions that have faded in my family since my childhood are eating together for meals and prayers before meals. We were a Catholic family, and our prayer started with “In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, amen,” and as we said this, we touched our hands to our own foreheads, our heart, each shoulder, and then to the other hand in prayer. “Thank you God, for the food on our table tonight; thank you for the blessings on our family,” we would all say together, eyes closed and in unison. “Thank you for Chris, Anna, Stephanie, Mom, Dad, amen,” one selected person would say, in that exact order as habit. And we would repeat the first line again, touching the forehead, heart, shoulders, and then kissing our own praying hands. I found it bizarre, when I would eat meals with my Christian friends and their families, their specific family’s prayers less formal, somewhat shorter, and sometimes made up on the spot. “God is good, God is great; Thanks for the food, amen,” even today, this prayer still piques my curiosity with how brief it is, even though I understand that prayers simply vary. My family’s prayer was a soothing ritual, I realize now even though it was routine; and also sometimes was resented depending on my level of hunger. Eating and praying together at meals had kept our family close, but they occurred less and less due to the both of my parents having to work more often. Family mealtime ceased when the parental arguments started up, which only now I understand ties with the actual separation of my family. I find that dining together with people on a regular basis creates a sort of comforting relationship between us, and I believe it’s rather essential, for me at least, to develop close relationships.
Davenport stresses the value of simplicity in his essay describing a favorite childhood past time: looking for arrowheads. He talks about how looking for arrows was not like anything else, he points out that “I was with grown-ups, so it wasn’t play. There was no lecture, so it wasn’t school. All effort was willing, so it wasn’t work. No ideal compelled us, so it wasn’t idealism or worship or philosophy.” The idea of looking for arrows, for him, was free of any requirements or labels, it was simple, he was just looking for arrowheads. It is these activities that have no meaning that we learn the most from. Davenport says he learned more from those afternoons than he ever could in a schoolhouse. He learned to look for things, to see beneath the surface and analyze details that most would overlook. This constant searching of knowledge is more valuable than actual knowledge. When I apply this idea to myself and try to discern the exact experiences that shaped my own thirst for knowledge, I can only go back to my Parent’s influence. My favorite thing is stories, which is exactly why I am an English Major with a minor in History. My love of stories first started when my Mom would read to me and we would listen to books on tape. This evolved into me reading my own books and even sneaking them after bed time. However, the best memories that involved my love of stories and the “what happened next” curiosity was stories about murder and rape. My Dad is a defense attorney and on long car rides he would always tell me the stories of his cases. At 10 I was hearing about serial killers, which is probably pretty awful but yet my young mind was so intrigued. Admittedly this is far off from Davenport’s point but somehow it all comes together. His random and unique childhood experience created a keen eye for detail while my random and unique childhood story time gave me a love for the unexplainable human condition.
ReplyDeleteDavenports essay is one that focuses us in on what events make us who we are. I also firmly believe that it is not necessarily the destination that is important, but also the journey and challenges faced along the way. I’ve had a fantastic life, with many twists, turns, new beginnings, endings, and deep chasms as well as the highest of elations. I think it’s our experiences that define us more than our goals, because goals can change, the past can’t. I know one of the defining moments of my childhood, and of the beginning of a lifelong education was learning how to read. I read everything I could hold when I was younger, books on philosophy, novels, things way outside of my knowledge and way outside my understanding. But it was the simple drive to progress that got me into learning, I have never stopped reading, and I always have a book at close access or (god forbid) on my smart-phone now. Learning is a lifelong journey, and between reading, being inquisitive and building things as a young man, working in a remote control shop as an adult, and being encouraged to be creative, those have always inspired me to do more and to learn more about myself and how things work. Sometimes you can’t change what you’ve learned, and you certainly can’t change the past, but why should you want too? Everything happens to teach you something, and sometimes the hardest lessons are the ones you needed the most to be a better person. I build for fun, I enjoy seeing the works of my hands fly, or do some simple purpose that I designed them too. I love to write, I remember spending a weekend trying to write a book and failing miserably, but never quite put it out of my mind and have frequently returned to it in times of stress. But the point is, after all of the many terrible, and many joyous times in my life, I would not change a thing. They have made me who I am, and some of my most terrible memories are the most important. You’re a student for a lifetime, and I don’t think I can ever stop learning.
ReplyDeleteI agree with what pretty much everyone else has said; that knowledge being continuously attained is the key to life. Davenport’s essay was an eye-opener in multiple ways. I guess It goes back to his saying that “Childhood is spent without introspection, in unreflective innocence,” which is completely true. As a child, you don’t pause after every major experience and think, ‘Hmm…what did I learn from this?” It seems the older people become, the less imaginative they are. I know when I was younger I used to write and tell stories, just because I liked to. Now, on the other hand, sitting down and making up stories seems impractical to me, when I have other work I should be doing. I guess that’s just the cynicism coming out in me. Getting older isn’t as nice to everyone, I suppose. As we age, we are forced to think about what’s really “important” in life. We learn our parents aren’t always going to be there to take care of us, and sometimes we have to sacrifice some things in order to save others. We’re taught that money can buy you happiness, and in order to have that money, we have to slave away at subjects we couldn’t care less about, so we can get a job that can support a certain way of living. I think what reading this essay has made me realize, is that happiness can’t be determined from how much money you make, or whether or not you’re passing all of your classes, or even if society deems you as ‘successful,’ or not. Happiness comes from exploration and discovering what you have a passion for, and continuing at it, like collecting arrowheads, for example. I think it’s cool that there are so many English majors. I think there’s just a stigma towards it, especially by others majoring in business or engineering, but who don’t feel passionate about it. I’m not saying that either one of those are bad, or good. I’m just saying that I’m not going to waste my life learning what I’m expected to learn so I can make money. I want to learn things I love, and my happiness won’t be judged by how much money I earned from it, but by who I will become by following my passions.
ReplyDeleteWe are shaped, in so many ways, by the influences of the cultures around us. While reading this essay, I was really struck with the beauty of the way that Davenport was able to convey the starting points of his love for scholarship: “I know that my sense of place, of occasion, even of doing anything at all, was shaped by those afternoons.” Looking “for Indian arrows” was the way that Davenport acquired an appreciation for careful foraging and a love for the journey itself, two things that are imperative if you are to enjoy learning and become an academic. While I thought this was very gorgeous, however, I wasn’t originally as appreciative of his rigid compartmentalization of his experiences. While Davenport recounted how he was “perfectly capable in Sunday school of believing all of the vicious bilge they wallowed in, and at home studying with glee the murders in the old Sunday American, and then spending the afternoon hunting arrowheads,” I wondered if that was really the way that we should go about living our lives. Yes, we are all influenced by the worlds we find ourselves in, but isn’t a part of being educated being able to synthesize our experiences across borders so that we can be self-aware individuals? Like Davenport (and like everyone else, for that matter), I belong to many entirely different cultures. Since I was five, my family has gone back to Ohio (where I was born) every year for Christmas. While we’re there, we spend one week with my father’s family, and one week with my mother’s family. My dad’s parents still live on a farm, and all of my cousins on that side spend their free time playing basketball, football, and volleyball. Everyone is tall and blonde and sporty, and we eat steak and potatoes every night for dinner. On the flip side, my mom’s family is Japanese and lives in suburban Toledo. Our days with them are spent discussing our favorite books, making traditional Japanese mochi, and playing strategy board games until 2:00 in the morning. When I was younger, it used to be such a culture shock to move back and forth between these two places, and it was difficult for me to know where I belonged in either one. It was only when I understood and accepted myself that I was able to feel comfortable in both contexts. My experiences in both shape who I am in every facet of my life: in school, in church, and at home.
ReplyDeleteBeing able to know myself and my past experiences and the ways that they affect the way I see the world have, in my opinion, been invaluable to my sense of learning and enjoyment in learning. Because of my relationship with my own experiences, I am constantly reacting in a personal way to the world around me, and I am constantly thinking about and changing the ways that I see the world. And I think that Davenport realizes this, too. After all, he acknowledges the universal ramifications his afternoons spent looking “for Indian arrows” has had on his psyche and the way he goes about seeking information. In the end, nothing can be truly compartmentalized, because everything that happens to you has a say in the way that you react to the world. I just think that it’s important that we realize this and make an effort to be ourselves, no matter what environment we find ourselves in. This way, we can experience new ideas and grow, while still being true to who we really are.
Depending in how individuals go about looking for such small things, such as arrow heads, can really describe one’s motivation and life style. It’s really the small things in life that eventually carry us to our success. The author referred back to his father many times, rephrasing how he would do an amazing job at finding stones/arrowheads and how his leadership skills gave him hope to find such collectibles. “It was then that arrowheads sat up on tees of red earth, a present to us all. A stone that has worked its way to the surface will remain on a kind of pedestal, surrounding topsoil having been washed away.” These findings were embedded and rare. Only dad had the ability to find these. This example gives us hope. As a child we look up to those who are better in the field and in this case, Kenner realized his father’s skill and then knew that these findings were possible. If dad never could have found the stones that were hidden, there would be no hope for anybody else to strive to find such a thing. Many of us today resemble this situation. Not many people try to do things that nobody else has done. People watch the NFL and realize that’s its possible to run that fast and hit that hard. People will follow and do everything they can to be like that role model. People realize that this act has been accomplished and it provides hope for all of the underdogs. If someone, all of the sudden learned how to fly, everybody else would follow and try to fly as well knowing it can be done. Kenner really elaborated on how hope can set people onto the correct path. People strive to be the best through hope and knowing that their hard work will pay off in years to come. If somebody has completed the task before, why can’t another do the same?
ReplyDeleteI thought it was interesting when Davenport talked about the rule of “everything in its place”. He explains that as a child, he led very different lives depending on where he was and who he was around. He wouldn’t ask any of his grandparents if he could go to the movies, he didn’t mention the archaeology expeditions to his teachers. Everything in his life seemed carefully sectioned and didn’t intersect. Interestingly, he goes on to say that even now he still doesn’t like different aspects of his life to have too much overlap, he describes how every room in his house serves a different purpose, and that he even has two rooms for reading: one for reading frivolous things, one for reading serious things. I can understand this attitude, because one’s surroundings often have a larger effect on one’s mood than we would think. There are days that I can’t possibly study alone in my dorm room, I can only concentrate once I go somewhere a bit noisier, like the coffee shop, so I can see that he has a point in that where you are greatly informs your attitude, mood, and many other things. However, he seems so absolute about it that I think he’s a bit ridiculous. He sort of reminds me here of the people who refuse to let any food on their plates touch another kind of food. If I had that attitude, I would never have accidentally discovered one day that strawberries taste surprisingly awesome with ranch dressing. Okay, that’s a weird analogy and a weird example, but here is my point: I think often when unexpected parts of our lives intersect, it makes everything far more interesting and exciting. Those days when what you learn in a history class happens to relate directly to a novel you’re reading, or when one of your favourite TV shows references another of your favourite TV shows. It’s certainly messier and sometimes more confusing to live life all meshed together like that, but I think it makes it that much more exciting, because honestly, if you could see the big picture, like really big, we would probably find out that everything in our lives intersects in sometimes tiny imperceptible ways, and other times in surprising and awesome ways.
ReplyDelete“And I learned from a whole childhood of looking in fields how the purpose of things ought perhaps to remain invisible, no more than half known. People who know exactly what they are doing seem to me to miss the vital part of any doing.” I found this to be the most interesting idea presented by Davenport. That the focus on any activity should be on the doing and not the “why.” Life is often just a means to an end, all of the focus is on the reward, what it takes to get it is irrelevant. And by doing so, much is lost. To know exactly what you are doing and why can take away the mysticism and power of action. When something is unexplained, it possess the possibility to be so much more than it is. When it is explained, it can mean nothing more than what it is. This was again highlighted by the fact that Davenport and his family did not particularly care for what they found after they found it. All of their emphasis was on the act of looking, thus the activity did not become monotonous and drab. When the doing stops being the reason for doing, or the reason for doing is all that can be seen, the meaning and substance of doing is lost. I also enjoyed the idea of a delayed impact when it comes to childhood activities. That what we did as children can have an non-immediate and often subtle impact on how we operate as learners and social creatures.
ReplyDeleteI found it interesting how Davenport talked about school, church, and houses being completely separate entities in his life. He mentions, “What went on in one never overflowed into the other”; almost like they were different worlds for him. Church was never mentioned on his hunting trips, and home never mixed with the religious beliefs. For me, this is completely opposite to the environment I grew up in. In my upbringing, religion and home values went hand in hand. My parents raised my sister and I in a home influenced by their Christian values and morals. We don’t see the aspects of our faith as “vicious bilge” but rather we’ve brought them into our lifestyle. Furthermore, he talks about how everything has a place; that he has sectioned off parts of his house for certain activities. He also states that he is someone different when he’s away from home; someone unrecognizable. Again, this portrays the opposite lifestyle as me. I go where I’m comfortable in my home and don’t change faces for the people I’m around or the places I go.
ReplyDeleteOn a separate note, looking at the essay as a whole I found it very scattered. It seems that Davenport, while I like his ideas and find his concept of reminiscing on childhood relatable, is anxious about the subject(s) he is discussing. From a psychological view, it may be that he has everything set in its place because it gives him some order in his life; it provides a sense of stability for him that he lost as his childhood slipped away. Contrary to this idea, however, he discusses how it’s not necessarily a bad thing to not have clear direction in your life. He notes that life is more about the journey and being focused only on the destination results in a less exciting and adventurous life. I find this interesting because he is so set in his ways at home and in everything having a place, but doesn’t believe in having a concrete plan for what’s ahead.
Well that was odd depiction of childhood. I mean, seriously, Guy Davenport, in his essay, “Finding,” jumped around so much to illustrate his ideas that, at one point, he went from his grandmother telling stories of the South to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. By the end of the piece, all I could think was, “Well, that escalated quickly. I mean, that really got out of hand.”
ReplyDeleteBut, in all seriousness, Davenport provides an interesting perspective on childhood with his smorgasbord of anecdotes. Everything Davenport discusses––all centering around those elusive arrowheads––is related back to environment, or, if you like it better this way, how situation, surroundings, and setting all influenced his life. In one of his more poignant sentences, Davenport states: “It is now shocking to me that I realized so few connections between things as a child.” Remarkably true, this notion is.
It seems that, in his essay, Davenport is suggesting that those tiny moments we hold onto in our childhood––and even those tremendous moments we don’t quite understand––have an impact on our attitudes regarding a number of things. On a large scale, factors such as religion, socio-economic standing, and political ideology shape our person. Yet, the minute instances within these details––like wanting to claw your eyes out because a church service is so boring––leave more of an impression upon your speculations on your person. It’s easier for one to look back on their life and recount these occasions, rather than ponder on how an abstract idea has shaped them.
What with this being college, it is assumed that, for some reason, the students attending Whitworth want to, on some level, further their education and/or understanding of themselves or the world. I happen to be one of these individuals, as I came to college in order to build a foundation upon which I can write, in addition to discovering the role I want to fulfill in society.
Like any eccentric, introverted English major with slightly hermitic tendencies, I can trace my love of reading back to my childhood. Whether it be my mother reading Harry Potter to a 6-year-old, slightly smaller version of me, or that same kid sitting behind furniture––naturally, no one can see you there––to delve into a Magic Tree House paperback, I always enjoyed words. With words, you can create anything you want regarding any situation, surrounding, or setting, which I used to expand my knowledge of subjects ranging from history to theology––for some reason, math never caught on to this ploy.
In this, I suppose I am an example of exactly what occurred with Davenport, but, in my young age, I was unable to realize it.
I agree that he jumped around a lot, but it always seemed to flow naturally, it never felt like he forcefully took you someplace else, more like you gradually drifted to a new topic while always maintaining the idea of finding in the back of your mind. Davenport shows his mastery of the english language so completely with this Essay; I wish he'd written more fiction aimed at an older audience. I love your assessment of english, I have long delighted in learning new words.
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ReplyDeleteAs I read Guy Davenport’s article, three phrases really stood out to me. He held an interesting perspective on the topic of learning. I both agreed and disagreed with his statements.
The first phrase was: “The schoolroom was its own place, our home another...place determined mood and tone...school was school, as church was church and houses were houses. What went on in one never overflowed into any other.” I agree that this often occurs, but it is not ideal. When you can learn from various areas and intersect places, learning is optimized. For example, I learned about human trafficking this summer in my internship. I applied that knowledge when I gave a speech in a debate competition and in international relations when I wrote a critical review on an article dealing with human trafficking. Because I could intersect internship, debate, and college, my learning was much deeper. If I only viewed learning about human trafficking as possible in my internship, I would have missed out on making deeper connections that occurred in debate and class.
The next phrase was “the search was the thing, the pleasure of looking” I disagree. For me, the enjoyment is the discovery. For example, researching for a project is not fun. Spending time scanning through source after source to find credible information is dull. Finding what I seek, such as quality information for a project, is rewarding. The search is unfulfilling because it is not the final destination. The search is just a portion of the journey. Hiking up the mountain is not as rewarding as the view one sees at the end.
The final phrase was “All effort was willing, so it wasn’t work.” I agree with this statement. Partaking in activities that one is forced too, even if the activities are pleasurable, tends to be unenjoyable. When we were required by Core to watch a movie, it felt like work. We had to give up time on a Friday night to go watch this film. The story line was good and it showed two contrasting worldviews in an interesting way. But since it was required, it was not as enjoyable. On the flip side, I thoroughly enjoyed writing a critical review for international relations. I picked a topic that interested me and was able to research more about it. The effort was willing, and so it was enjoyable.
As a whole, Guy Davenport’s article on learning was enjoyable. At some points, I agreed with his statements. At other points, I disagreed. Overall, I enjoyed hearing his perspective.
"And when I am away from home, I am somebody else. This may seem suspicious to the simple mind of a psychiatrist, but it seems natural enough. My cat does not know me when we meet a block away from home, and I gather from his expression that I’m not supposed to know him, either."Davenport's essay although quite fluid, illustrates a new world, an older time one that contrast with today's society. From the simple joy of picking indian arrow heads to the detailed family history or even the lands in the south, what caught my attention the most was the idea of separating the different aspects of his life and not allowing them to "overflow" into each other. What drew me most about this particular passage is the reference he makes between him and his cat and how the example is clear and relatable with the audience. Personally I agree with his ideology of separating the main influential aspects in your life such as your personal life, your career and your religious and or political beliefs. "But school was school, as church was church and houses were houses. What went on in one never overflowed into any other." The separation of entities that play a large part in our daily lives maintains an aurora of professionalism and I feel that even though it is important to bring perhaps church into every daily aspect of your life that in todays modern society with so many different religious viewpoints, it is important for all to distance themselves from religious ideologies if you're not in that particular setting. Although Davenport clearly grew up in a different time period, I agree with his ideologies wholeheartedly. Being able to have such a mindset in a time where there wasn't as much diversity as there is today is innovation in it's own way. As times are changing and as our population grows more diverse in different settings such as school, work, church and even in our homes we must learn to adapt and separate viewpoints which can conflict with other's and make them feel uncomfortable. Although I'm not quite sure this was Davenport's intention, for me this is the message it sends to be able to separate yourself from such major daily factors.
ReplyDeleteIt took me a little bit to get my thoughts wrapped around what Guy Davenport was sharing but once I understood his reflection on his childhood and how it shaped him I found it very fascinating. As a result I have valued the time to reflect on my childhood and in doing so realize how different Davenport’s experiences are from mine. I think of the impact of my experiences on my life today and I am keenly aware that every childhood (no matter the experiences) shapes who we are as adults. Davenport said, “The rule was: everything in its place.” I could connect with this on a certain level but not as absolute and inflexible it seemed from Davenport. I was privileged to grow up in a very strong, loving, traditional family. My parents had the conviction from before I was born that Sunday was a day set aside for church and family. I grew up knowing the seriousness for which this conviction was lived out and it was clear to me from as far back as I can remember that there was rarely if ever any variance from this behavior. Our friends and extended family knew that Sunday was set aside for our greatest values being God and family. At times friends tried to convince my parents otherwise to let me hang with them on Sunday for this reason or that and the answer was always no. So for me the quote mentioned above (The rule: everything in its place) was very true to my childhood when it came to Sunday. I look back and am very thankful for that value system because I find it still grounds me. As I grew and opportunities came to do otherwise on Sunday I found (and still find) it actually uncomfortable for me even though it may be fine for the rest of the world. The rest of the week there is certainly the freedom to pursue our individual goals and aspirations. Unlike Davenport I find that the rest of the week isn’t as strict as, “everything in its place” because much of what Sunday is about overflows into many of my ideals and efforts in pursuit of goals during the week. Sunday as a child was just a day that we did this and that but as I have grown I find in myself this same conviction to keep Sunday as it was in my childhood because it gives me the foundation to build on all week. I am very grateful for growing up with Sundays having, “The rule: everything in its place.” One of the things that always happened on Sundays was the keen awareness of “The big picture.” This has helped me so many times during the week when stresses are high and/or schooling and life are intense. I reflect on the values of Sunday I can let go of the intensity of the issues at hand and actually become more productive handling those issues. I will always value this foundation and believe it will forever remain a conviction in my life.
ReplyDeleteDavenport’s article, “A Difference of Imagination,” brings up many points about how the places that we live and what those places consist of really shape the people that we become. Often our childhood memories are identified with a place first, rather than with an activity or something of the sort. Something that I really found poignant, although minor, is when he talks about how when he was at his Grandma’s he knew not to speak of the movies. He says, “at Grannyport’s one never mentioned the moving pictures that played so great a part in my life, for Grannyport denied that pictures could move.” This is an idea that is developed as a child that we don’t even know is really happening; we begin to realize what we can talk about and who we can talk about it with and I think it happens pretty subconsciously. I really identify with Davenport is this specific way because movies are a really big deal in my family. They’re really important to my dad and I remember him showing my siblings and I “The Patriot” when I was only in the sixth grade because “it’s just one of those movies everyone has to see.” However, this was something I couldn’t really talk about with anyone outside of my family because if I tried to they wouldn’t understand. At the time I didn’t get why my dad would show us movies like this when I couldn’t talk about them with my friends, but now I realize that it was something that was important to him, and something that was meant to stay in the family and that made it even more important. Much like how Davenport’s family would collect arrowheads and other people couldn’t understand the significance; this was something that brought their family closer together. I think this is also the basics of propriety, learning when to talk, who to talk to, and what to talk about. This is all learned in the family, and really important lesson at that.
ReplyDeleteWhile I thought that Wendall Berry had some good insights, overall, I did not like this speech due to it's overwhelming cynicism.
ReplyDeleteI think the third of the speech that wasn’t attacking the STEM program or bigger universities was well-thought out, beautiful, and maybe even profound. I agree that it is crucial to not think of life in terms of the career one has, as we so often have a habit of doing. If we didn’t, why is one of the first questions we ask when meeting people, “What do you do for a living?”, and why is it that in order to define who we are as a person, we often hear the words, “Oh, I’m a doctor/teacher/nurse/etc.”. Your occupation is not what you are. You may teach, but you are more than just “a teacher”, and I liked that Wendall Berry touched on that.
I think my biggest problem with the article was how the author seemed to think that the idea that college is about job training is wrong. Yes, I would agree that universities are much more focused on teaching job skills than social skills, but that’s what makes universities universities as opposed to social clubs or finishing schools. Big universities do have a tone of clubs and activities on campus, however, you have to be more willing to go find them or put yourself out on a limb to meet people. But really, isn’t that a good attribute to learn in itself? When we graduate, we are not going to have a built-in community in our lives like we do here at Whitworth, and we will have to seek out places to meet new people and make new friends.
Overall, I was surprised that this speech was intended to be a commencement speech. There were a few key cliché phrases thrown in, but that was normally with the preface, “It is customary to tell you”, or something else of that nature. For the most part, it sounded more like a crotchety old man grumbling reasons the world has gone to hell than an esteemed professor congratulating the class and inspiring them to go forth into adulthood.
The idea that childhood influences your adult life is not new to me. Just being with people and listening to them open up and talk about their childhood has explained more about how they became the person that they are than anything else I have learned about those people. Our relationships with our parents, where we grew up, who our friends were, what we did for fun, all of it plays a huge role in who we become as adults, often without our realizing it, like Davenport said. A seemingly insignificant event in our childhood can traumatize us and change our lives and who we become, for better or worse. But what was really interesting to me was how Davenport described having “places” for everything. His “rule was: everything in its place. To this day I paint in one part of my house, write in another, read in another; read, in fact, in two others: frivolous and delicious reading such as Simenon and Erle Stanley Gardner in one room, scholarship in another. And when I am away from home, I am somebody else.” The social norms of the different places, like church and school, and the norms of his family, made it very clear how he was trained to act a certain way in each of the different places in his life. I really related to this. I know that I act differently when I am in different social situations: I have my close friends, my ballet friends, my church friends, and I act a bit differently with all of them. I have never really thought about how the social norms and situations I’ve been placed in have affected how I act with those people. At ballet, the environment was very strict and structured, so I was very quiet and respectful. My church had a different set of norms, so I acted differently there. Same with school and with my closer friends. Living in the same small town my entire life has given me a very structured way to act depending on the situation and where I am, and they have influenced me since my childhood. Reading this article made me realize how true this is, and how I do have “places” in my life, and that I keep a certain part of myself in each of those places.
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ReplyDeleteAs a child I was never surprised to find an inch or two of snow blanketing Easter morning. Finding brightly colored eggs was always much easier when the snow around them had absorbed blue or pink dye, and just because it was cold did not mean that we would not hike. Every Easter afternoon, and many clear Christmases of my childhood were spent scrambling along dirt tracks I knew by heart and tearing eternally patched holes in my green and purple snowsuit.
ReplyDeleteI have not been on a Christmas or Easter hike in years, though my mother still takes them without fail, often on her own. My sister and I preferred to lie in bed and watch movies on cold afternoons as we got older. But more often than not, my mother would return from her solitary excursion with a spring of bright smelling sage, or an early crocus, wilted and limp from the heat of her hands. I would breathe in the smell of fresh, cold life that crept in behind her and regret not going with her, only to forget by the next Easter how much I wished I would have gone too.
In his essay, “A Difference of Imagination,” Davenport says, “Childhood is spent without introspection, in unreflective innocence. Adolescence turns its back on childhood in contempt and sometimes shame. We find our childhood later, and what we find in it is full of astounding surprises.” It was difficult to imagine, as a child, that something I always took for granted will one day become something unforgettable. Then it disappeared and I will never experience it the same way again.
I wonder how often people feel this way. As I get older, how many more things I take for granted now will become something irretrievable from the past?
Davenport's essay examines his own childhood in the context of hunting for arrowheads, but he unearths a plethora of other long lost feeling and emotions tied to certain experiences or people that he can only remember. Remembering is an odd thing. It is a link back to the past, but never quite the same. Memories change over time; some details are forgotten and some are imagined. Personally, I never know how many of my early memories are real, and how many I have constructed using minute details, emotions, photographs, and the stories of others.
Perhaps my tiny snowsuit was pink and blue, while the dye bleeding from the half frozen Easter eggs was green and purple. Perhaps the snow was never quite as deep as I imagine it. I can never know. Still, I will always remember certain details – the crisp air scorching the tip of my nose, and the same trail we traveled along every year, and the rock formations I would scramble up to see the whole world stretch out below me. It may be bittersweet to remember experiences lost forever, but I hope I will never forget them.
Davenport's talk of compartmentalizing his life based off location really resonated with me. I've long experienced a similar feeling, of behaving differently depending upon location, or more often the people I'm with. Also, I thought he accurately portrayed the difficulty of seeing others as real people; you never think of your teachers or professors as having lives outside of the classroom, once you leave they cease to exist. However, I disagree with his statement that young children aren't introspective but I have distinct memories of spending a lot time thinking about my thoughts and feelings before I had even turned five. I really enjoyed when Davenport mentioned the barbed wire fences, masterfully using it to show the change of times in a negative light, and I liked the implications of his sudden ending, it served to illustrate the abrupt ending of his childhood do to the war. All in all, Davenport's rambling style of writing was interesting and did a good job conferring the warm and happy feelings he had for his idyllic youth. This is not the sort of thing I would normally read, but it was interesting none the less, and I hope it helps me remember to create happy memories here at Whitworth so I can look back fondly for the rest of my life.
ReplyDeleteReading the comments for the article it seems that this essay has reminded us all of how important our early years and experiences are to our education. We all have our own different experiences that shape us into the individuals we are. My own experience managed to be both similar and different at the same time. While Davenport highlights his particular experience of collecting arrowheads, I cannot think of one particular event or action that had a significant impact upon my education. Rather I can identify with Davenport as he talks about drawing, building, and writing. This is how my childhood went. I grew up as a home schooled only child so I spent a lot of my time engaging in creative activities like these. These are the most memorable events of my childhood and the reasons as to why I am pursuing an english major. I am doing this so I can continue the creative activities I have grown to love. Reading this article has struck a chord of nostalgia in me, making me remember simple days before college. However, i realize that all my actions have in one way or another influenced my education in one way or another. It gives me both a new perspective on my childhood and about my actions now. Because I see that every action has an impact in one way or another and can have a meaning. Therefore there is no sense in wasting time or actions because it will come back around. Actions such as procrastinating a paper or studying when i could be socializing with friends. Overall, this was a very interesting essay to read. It definitely has had an impact upon me and upon everyone else here judging by the comments. Definitely a worthwhile read and a necessary reality check.
ReplyDeleteFrom reading this essay and my fellow classmates comments, there are two things I've learned: one, imagination is our greatest tool and should never bee taken for granted to. Lastly, our experiences as kids shaped us into the adults we are today. While reading about Davenports past, I couldn't help but remember my own childhood. As a young girl i loved to read and write. My mother always read, and she stressed the importance of it to me and my brother. I took this to heart. I can remember listening to my mother read Harry Potter to us, as i grew up i imagined it was her voice reading them to me. At the age of five my mother gave me my first diary. It was pink and had Hello Kitty all over it. She told me, it for my dreams, feelings and thoughts. I wrote in it evryday after that. I'd constanly let my imagination get the best of me. When i grew older my reading and writing skills became my greatest strenght. Like Davenport explains, what we do as children impact our education. I, as well as my teachers found that I had a nact for creative writing, i can contribute this to all the times I spent writing down what my imagination showed me. While Davenport was collecting arrowheads, i was in my room reading books about princesses and young girl in first grade. I guess I never really thought about who influentical my past had been. All those years of reading, finally payed in high school amd now college. Reading books for school isn't a challenge and I find I'm able to do it quite quickly. I'm glad to say I was goven this chance to read this essay, my eyes have definitly been opened. However i can't help but miss my childhood, it came and gone all too soon. I never fully appreciated it as a children but now at eighteen i realize how inportant and amazimg those years are. Davenpory describes those years as soon of his most important years and memories, amd i agree. Collecting arrowheads, writing, it may not seem as important when your young but as you get older it hits you, how important these activites can be. Sitting here, writing this blog, I begin to miss the days were I wrote for fun and now for a future. This essay is definitly one I shall never forget and like my childhood I won't be taking it for granted. Life goes by too fast, and death comes only to quickly, it's time we cherish the little things and celebrate the even bigger ones.
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