Choice

        Studying, sitting in the comfort of an air conditioned classroom with an intelligent friendly teacher and clean students is much easier than studying, standing at attention, on a drill pad in the hot July heat of San Antonio, Texas, while in the Military, with a bunch of sweaty recruits and a drill Sergeant yelling at me.

          As a teenager growing up in New York City, in the 1970’s I couldn’t wait to leave there. I was much “cooler” than the average teen. I would look out the window of my classroom and think that I would rather be outside, traveling to far off places than sitting in this dilapidated school building, surrounded by barbed wire. The teachers there were just plain mean. I was informed many times that I wouldn’t amount to anything. The high school guidance counselor told me to try to get in the military, that it would give me the opportunity to travel and besides, the food was good.   So, a few months later I found myself standing on a drill pad in one of the hottest places on the planet Earth, standing at attention, with this crazy drill sergeant yelling at me.

          I found myself thinking that the teachers weren’t that mean, and that dilapidated school building surrounded by barbed wire seemed much nicer and safer than the old world war two barracks with no air conditioning in which I lived while I was being trained for war. The drill sergeant marched out to the middle of the drill pad in the 100 degree heat. He called us to attention. It was so hot my combat boots melted to the drill pad. It smelled like asphalt and an old high school gymnasium. I was trying not to lock my knees to prevent me from passing out. I wiggled my toes to increase the circulation to my feet. The drill sergeant yelled “I have the results of the written tests that qualify you for basic military training!” He stated that one person had scored 99 out of 100. Two people had scored 98. One person had scored 95. On and on he went reading off the scores, till he finally came to the lowest grade. He smirked one idiot scored 12 out of 100. We all knew who the idiot was. We had avoided him like the plague hoping his stupidity wouldn’t rub off on us. I never thought that getting the highest score was a bad thing, but now I did. The drill sergeant stared at me. He looked through my eyes, deep into my soul. He yelled at everyone to get out their notebooks. He had the first guy in line read the first sentence, “Welcome to basic military training.” Then he told us to write down that sentence in our notebooks. He had the next guy in line, read the next sentence and had us write it down. This went on for hours. I truly thought I might die from heat stroke, but I just kept on writing. I chose to persevere. The thought of giving up and returning to the hopeless situation in New York City was not an option. I had burnt all my bridges when I left. It would be a long time before I returned to New York City.

            It now seemed in our best interest to help the idiot pass the test so we wouldn’t have to stand in the sun all day “studying.” Over the next few weeks, the sergeant watched as I buddied up to Ralph who had been struggling with the test because he couldn’t read. Ralph was from New York as well and his situation was worse than mine. I tutored him night and day and he memorized the entire manual word for word. One day he finally passed the test that was administered to him verbally. The last day of training the drill sergeant came up to me and I snapped to attention. He stared at me again, looking deep into my soul. Then he said “Good job Harper!” Then he said  very sincerely “ you remember to keep your head down when they are shooting at you.” I smiled, something that was forbidden in boot camp. I thought that man was the smartest man I had ever met.

          Today, I am attending college studying for my Bachelor Of Science degree. The campus is beautiful. All the buildings are new with state of the art equipment. The climate control system is calculated perfectly for my maximum comfort. My peers are all friendly and clean. The professor is smart, kind, and very informative. The Academic and Career Enhancement Center is very helpful. They have tutors and instructors available to assist with all my academic needs. If I am stressed out, there is help available at the Student Veteran Resource Center. There are stress management services, mental health services, financial aid counseling, career services, and numerous general services available. There are many fun activities available. There are theatrical plays, live music, and informative seminars. The library is fully stocked with the latest text and information. There are numerous opportunities to volunteer in our communities. An example would be helping illiterate adults learn to read, something I am good at. The best of all is I have been afforded certain inalienable rights endowed by my creator that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.(US Declaration of Ind.)

          I look at my fellow students that don’t complete assignments exactly as the professor instructed or arrive late for class. I was trained to be the first to arrive and the last to leave if I want to succeed. I was taught to do the right thing and to concentrate on the task in front of me. I read a book entitled “The Greatest Miracle in the World,” that guided me to count my blessings, to proclaim my rarity, and to use wisely the power of choice. I see the student staring out the window thinking there is something better or easier out there and I think  just one afternoon with my drill sergeant would make this place seem like paradise. 

Timothy A. Harper

Professor Guneyli

English Composition 101-001

6 June 2012                                                Irish

          
        When you mention the word Irish, most people smile. They might think about Celtic music,

celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, or Irish Dancing. They may picture a lad with red hair and freckles.

Some people cringe. They think about all the violence in Northern Ireland, Politicians, Cops, and

strict Catholic beliefs. There are some that think all Irish people are drunkards, that fight all the

time, or they eat potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That the Irish throw garbage out of

their houses and are sloppy people. Some ignorant narrow minded people use an ethnic slur to

refer to my people. They use the ‘S’ word. They call us shanty Irish. What does it mean to be an

Irish American man, in today’s culture? Three men that I know that define the modern Irish

American man is my dad, my son and I.

         

          My father grew up in a catholic orphanage in Brooklyn, New York during the 1930’s. His Mother, who came from Ireland, at the turn of the 20th century, as an indentured servant, scrubbed floors for pennies. At age seventeen, my father went to war in Korea. He was wounded twice, and was taken prisoner of war. He escaped by kicking out the side of a barn where he was being held.  He was awarded the Bronze Star with the “V” insignia for valor. He had many friends and had a natural way of making a person feel like they had someone on their side. People would come up to me and say “your old man is alright.” My father married and had four sons. He was a successful businessman and owned an international textile firm. He was awarded a medal from Queen Elizabeth for bringing a large amount of business to the United Kingdom. He ran for political

office and won. He became the Housing Commissioner in northern New Jersey. He loved and played baseball. He stood 6 feet 1 inch and had a size 13 shoe. He was honest, smart, and fearless.

When he got emotional he talked in Gaelic. He was a very proud man, with a strong sense of fairness. He embraced his heritage. Whenever there was a St. Patrick’s Day parade, he would be wearing green clothes, march in the parade, smile and wave to the crowd. He loved corn beef and cabbage. He loved to eat, drink, and be merry. He was faithful to my mother till the day she died. He could make you cry when he sang “Ole Danny Boy.” He feared failure or being perceived as lower class. My Father was a great man.

          I on the other hand, hide my cultural heritage. I don’t drink alcohol. I am a sober person. I rarely show my emotions. I rarely sing in public even though I write songs and play the guitar, quite well. I dislike my heritage. I have three sons. I built a home overlooking a lake in a private gated community. I am a hard worker. I served in the military. I have worked as a paramedic and emergency department nurse. I am a pacifist. I am very sane. I heard someone say in the movie Spanglish “being to sane can drive you nuts” that fits me to a tee. I am quick witted and funny. I am faithful, kind, and religious (protestant). I am a family man. I have numerous friends. I was a campaign manager on a senatorial campaign. I am a good organizer. I am very tolerant of people different than me. I am a people watcher. I fear being perceived as stupid. I cringe every time my wife throws food scraps off the deck, for the raccoons. I can’t eat corn beef and cabbage it makes me sick. I feel most comfortable when the house is clean and everything is in its proper place. I am 5ft 11 inches tall, and have a size 11 ½ foot. I am a good person.

          My son on the other hand, has the word Irish tattooed across his abdomen, in big letters. He is a trained boxer. At sixteen, he wanted to be a gang member and emulated a hip hop singer

named slim shady. He dropped out of school and joined the army. He was a patriot missile operator on 9/11/2001. He obtained a GED and won a scholastic scholarship to Tufts University in Boston. Yikes! Boston is the Irish capital of the world. The ghetto housing projects in Boston are filled with poor lower class Irish Americans. He got in trouble with the police. The old Irish legal political machine went into motion, and he was found not guilty. He graduated with honors. He was recruited to a private international contracting firm. I have no idea what that means or what he does. He travels the world spreading his Irish charm to whoever deserves it. He is extremely intelligent. He converted to Catholicism. He has a very appealing personality. He is funny and quick witted. He loves corned beef and cabbage. He plays the harmonica, badly, but it doesn’t stop him. He is 5ft 11 inches tall. His shoe size is 10 ½ .He is honest. He has a deep sense of responsibility. He is a leader.

           You're probably wondering what shoe size has to do with defining the modern American Irish man. My father used that foot size to kick out the wall of that barn he escaped from during the Korean War. He kicked in the door of the neighbor's house, when in the early morning hours, he heard screams and ran out and saw the neighbor's house on fire. He was able to rescue the mother and three children, but the father had stumbled, got disoriented, and lost his way. With total disregard for his own life he ran back into the burning house and pulled the man to safety.

          Those are hard shoes to fill. I work in an emergency room and save people’s lives every day. I started a rescue program for heroin addicts called the McNod. My granddaughter looks up to my son in awe. She will have to have big feet to be able to walk in his shoes. I think these qualities define the modern Irish American man.

          As I reflex on this essay, I think you could probably substitute Irish with any ethnicity. I think a culture and a people are all these qualities and more. Some of these qualities are good and some of them are not so good.  Honesty, hard work, humor, faithfulness, and fairness, represents all cultures. I chose to see the good qualities in a culture.