TLI (The Learning Institute) paper I did for school!
Thomas Hardy once said
“I am the family face; flesh perishes, I live on.”
Many people have taken a stab at what exactly this quote means. To me, it means a couple things. First of all, it could be speaking of someone who represents your family. An individual who the epitome of what your family name means. Secondly, it is obviously speaking of death. When it says that “flesh perishes”- on the contrary, “I live on.” To me, this is referring to the memories we have of people.
It’s also been said that we only cease to exist when we’re forgotten. Even after someone has passed, we remember them. People have an impact on our lives. I’m sure we can all think of a role-model, someone who taught us valuable life-lessons. Or perhaps, an older sibling, peer who took the wrong path and now advises us to do the opposite. For some, there are little memories, some so simple- yet we will never forget them.
With this being said, there are many memories from my childhood that I will never forget. I am the eldest of five children. Being raised around my younger siblings, all of us homeschooled until last year- we had much time to entertain ourselves and grow closer, with many mischevious acts.
I would like to list a couple memories that I will forever hold close to my heart- and in my mind for a rainy day.
We were always ready and beyond willing to find enjoyment in little things, or make games of the simplest tasks. I was usually the responsible one, organizing the fun- all for someone to come along and find loop-holes in my rules or layout of the games. Eventually, after I had my fit of not having the game “play out” as I would have liked, I would join in and have a good time doing whatever it was that time.
We especially enjoyed playing in our clubhouse. I’m not sure why now, looking back on it. I can still wander into my back yard to find it there, in the same state it once was (though sadly lacking in the mud-pie department. That didn’t use to be the case)
Possibly, the reason being we helped dad to build it. We thought it was so exciting to be a part of watching a building rise from a stack of boards. We were able to look at a shelf, or the front steps and say “I helped build that.” That was a lesson that dad was always trying to teach us. To make things on our own, appreciating hard work. Knowing it would take us far.
As I mentioned, we were mud-pie-makin’-fools. I couldn’t count with all our dirty fingers and toes together how many we made in a week. It was always a competition between my sister brenda and me (next to oldest) to see who could make the best pie. Obviously, we couldn’t judge based on taste- (though on some days, I wouldn’t have put it past us to try one) so we judged on other elements. I liked mine to be very smooth. Both in consistency and texture. I would carefully demolish all the “clumps” and mix well with water, which I would leave out in the sun in a bowl, to heat up. I found that the mud mixed better that way. We would also judge based on creativity. Sometimes I would make criss-cross designs in the pie with a fork, or other utensils. Overall, the pie baking experience, and competition was a very enjoyable and memorable moment in my childhood.
Our poor brother, being the only boy in a band of four girls- was often drug into many “girly” activities. I’m sure he would deny it now- but he was a barbie fanatic back in the day. He would save up his allowance to buy Kim new clothes. He was also known to strut-his-stuff down the makeshift runway in our front yard. Sporting a combination of mine and Brenda’s clothes. He was so cute! I often look back on those times and smile. I know that there comes a time for everyone to grow up, but I wish my brother had stayed in that innocent phase for much,much longer.
We would also role-play as Indians, pilgrims, Mennonites and the list goes on. The clubhouse out back was a decent place to “set the scene”, regardless of the storyline. We would always get very into our characters. Accents and marker mustaches to boot. (there’s only one boy, so many of us girls have played the role of boys a time-or-two)
We weren’t always manly-men-wannabee’s. There were times when grandma would make efforts to calm my sister Brenda and me down. She would hold “princess lessons” once a week. She lived only a hop, skip and a jump from our house, so walking was no big deal. We would show up with dirty, bare feet and stained shirts. Ready to be “princess-afied”..Really, we were just there for the cookies, and a chance to wear the plastic tiara that grandma had purchased at the $1 store. She kept everything in great condition, so it looked more like a real tiara- and it was the highest honor to wear it.
As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s been a significant amount of competition between Brenda and me, almost from day one. From mud pie competitions, to who got to wear the crown, to who could read the sight words the fastest.
We were homeschooled. Mom has five kids and dad worked during the day. Naturally, mom would try to do as much in a group effort as she could, to save her some time. (which can probably explain how the youngest ones know things that are beyond their years) among these things, was reading. We would have “sight words.” I didn’t much like reading, but I was good at it. And of course, if Brenda was doing it, I would be as well. Always trying to do my best.
We would practice at home, then when dad returned from work, while mom was finishing supper, we would go and read them. One flash card at a time. Whoever could read/say the word first, received a quarter. This was our allowance. Weird, I know. One-by-one the quarters would come out of the roll and into one of our hands. That is a fond memory to me. One that my sister and I can still joke about. We have gotten much better now about being competitive towards each other- but a subtle drive will always be inside us to one-up the other.
These are only a few memories, I’ve no doubt I could go on-and-on. I’ve jokingly said that someday I’ll write a book about the adventures of five children, random farm animals and the clubhouse in the Arkansas Mountains. Now, I’m thinking that it may not be a half-bad idea. There’s an endless amount of simple pleasures and adventures in life, if you’ll only look for them.
As Thomas Hardy said, “I live on.” Maybe I won’t, I don’t have much say in what happens after my “flesh perishes.” I can say that I will continue to re-live these moments with my siblings, for as long as I can. We may be competitive, or not always get along. My brother may be growing up too fast and changing into a much different person that I remember him being. Still, we have each other. And family is family. We will always love each other, despite our differences and shortcomings.
“I am the family face; flesh perishes, I live on.”
Many people have taken a stab at what exactly this quote means. To me, it means a couple things. First of all, it could be speaking of someone who represents your family. An individual who the epitome of what your family name means. Secondly, it is obviously speaking of death. When it says that “flesh perishes”- on the contrary, “I live on.” To me, this is referring to the memories we have of people.
It’s also been said that we only cease to exist when we’re forgotten. Even after someone has passed, we remember them. People have an impact on our lives. I’m sure we can all think of a role-model, someone who taught us valuable life-lessons. Or perhaps, an older sibling, peer who took the wrong path and now advises us to do the opposite. For some, there are little memories, some so simple- yet we will never forget them.
With this being said, there are many memories from my childhood that I will never forget. I am the eldest of five children. Being raised around my younger siblings, all of us homeschooled until last year- we had much time to entertain ourselves and grow closer, with many mischevious acts.
I would like to list a couple memories that I will forever hold close to my heart- and in my mind for a rainy day.
We were always ready and beyond willing to find enjoyment in little things, or make games of the simplest tasks. I was usually the responsible one, organizing the fun- all for someone to come along and find loop-holes in my rules or layout of the games. Eventually, after I had my fit of not having the game “play out” as I would have liked, I would join in and have a good time doing whatever it was that time.
We especially enjoyed playing in our clubhouse. I’m not sure why now, looking back on it. I can still wander into my back yard to find it there, in the same state it once was (though sadly lacking in the mud-pie department. That didn’t use to be the case)
Possibly, the reason being we helped dad to build it. We thought it was so exciting to be a part of watching a building rise from a stack of boards. We were able to look at a shelf, or the front steps and say “I helped build that.” That was a lesson that dad was always trying to teach us. To make things on our own, appreciating hard work. Knowing it would take us far.
As I mentioned, we were mud-pie-makin’-fools. I couldn’t count with all our dirty fingers and toes together how many we made in a week. It was always a competition between my sister brenda and me (next to oldest) to see who could make the best pie. Obviously, we couldn’t judge based on taste- (though on some days, I wouldn’t have put it past us to try one) so we judged on other elements. I liked mine to be very smooth. Both in consistency and texture. I would carefully demolish all the “clumps” and mix well with water, which I would leave out in the sun in a bowl, to heat up. I found that the mud mixed better that way. We would also judge based on creativity. Sometimes I would make criss-cross designs in the pie with a fork, or other utensils. Overall, the pie baking experience, and competition was a very enjoyable and memorable moment in my childhood.
Our poor brother, being the only boy in a band of four girls- was often drug into many “girly” activities. I’m sure he would deny it now- but he was a barbie fanatic back in the day. He would save up his allowance to buy Kim new clothes. He was also known to strut-his-stuff down the makeshift runway in our front yard. Sporting a combination of mine and Brenda’s clothes. He was so cute! I often look back on those times and smile. I know that there comes a time for everyone to grow up, but I wish my brother had stayed in that innocent phase for much,much longer.
We would also role-play as Indians, pilgrims, Mennonites and the list goes on. The clubhouse out back was a decent place to “set the scene”, regardless of the storyline. We would always get very into our characters. Accents and marker mustaches to boot. (there’s only one boy, so many of us girls have played the role of boys a time-or-two)
We weren’t always manly-men-wannabee’s. There were times when grandma would make efforts to calm my sister Brenda and me down. She would hold “princess lessons” once a week. She lived only a hop, skip and a jump from our house, so walking was no big deal. We would show up with dirty, bare feet and stained shirts. Ready to be “princess-afied”..Really, we were just there for the cookies, and a chance to wear the plastic tiara that grandma had purchased at the $1 store. She kept everything in great condition, so it looked more like a real tiara- and it was the highest honor to wear it.
As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s been a significant amount of competition between Brenda and me, almost from day one. From mud pie competitions, to who got to wear the crown, to who could read the sight words the fastest.
We were homeschooled. Mom has five kids and dad worked during the day. Naturally, mom would try to do as much in a group effort as she could, to save her some time. (which can probably explain how the youngest ones know things that are beyond their years) among these things, was reading. We would have “sight words.” I didn’t much like reading, but I was good at it. And of course, if Brenda was doing it, I would be as well. Always trying to do my best.
We would practice at home, then when dad returned from work, while mom was finishing supper, we would go and read them. One flash card at a time. Whoever could read/say the word first, received a quarter. This was our allowance. Weird, I know. One-by-one the quarters would come out of the roll and into one of our hands. That is a fond memory to me. One that my sister and I can still joke about. We have gotten much better now about being competitive towards each other- but a subtle drive will always be inside us to one-up the other.
These are only a few memories, I’ve no doubt I could go on-and-on. I’ve jokingly said that someday I’ll write a book about the adventures of five children, random farm animals and the clubhouse in the Arkansas Mountains. Now, I’m thinking that it may not be a half-bad idea. There’s an endless amount of simple pleasures and adventures in life, if you’ll only look for them.
As Thomas Hardy said, “I live on.” Maybe I won’t, I don’t have much say in what happens after my “flesh perishes.” I can say that I will continue to re-live these moments with my siblings, for as long as I can. We may be competitive, or not always get along. My brother may be growing up too fast and changing into a much different person that I remember him being. Still, we have each other. And family is family. We will always love each other, despite our differences and shortcomings.
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