Eudora Welty structures her story, “The Little Store” by first giving a brief description of her town and her mother. Explaining her mother’s use of the nearby Grocer’s delivery service forms a good transition into the main part of her story, which is the young girl’s journey to “The Little Store”. When Welty comments, “she never set foot inside a grocery store” (Welty, 155) and then proceeds to detail the mother’s use of grocery delivery for her regular needs, she is providing a good transition into why the these trips to “The Little Store” are necessary.
Welty next begins to detail how well the little girl knows the sidewalk leading to “The Little Store” by stating, “I knew even the sidewalk to it as well as I knew my own skin” (Welty, 155). She reinforced this point by explaining the multitude of games that the young girl played. She commented on jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks, roller-skating, bike riding, and playing with her homemade steamboat. This provides the reader some insight into how well the little girl knows the area, background on the little girl, and also gives an idea as to the age range of the child. All of these statements are made with less detail as to add more emphasis to the main point of the story, which is “The Little Store”.
The author uses a lot of sensory description when explaining “The Little Store”. Welty writes, “There are almost tangible smells – licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek” (Welty, 157). Aside from evoking a connection with the smell of licorice this statement also evokes the taste of licorice. She also further details a smell of dill-pickle, ammonia, and mice.
Another sense that was used in the story was sight. The author provides a fairly detailed depiction of the store through the girl’s eyes when she begins to explain the large amount of stock that lines the store shelves. This gives the reader a mental image of the surroundings.
Welty’s comment, “Shelves climbed to high reach all the way around” (Welty, 157) provides a vantage point for the young girl. Through the girl’s eyes the shelves were high reaching as if almost too the roof. It made me think of how I may look at a stadium today with its high-reaching stands that wrap all the way around. I also noticed that the writer describes Mr. Sessions’s store cheese as being “as big as a doll’s house” (Welty, 157). These points reinforce the writers’ technique to create a childlike perspective.
Eudora Welty. “The Little Store” and excerpt from “Storekeeper, 1935.” From The Eye of the Story; Selected Essays and Reviews by Eudora Welty. Copyright 1978 by Eudora Welty. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Where Am I From?
“Where am I from?” This is a difficult question, since I have lived in several places for an extended period of time. I was born on Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, Louisiana. While I was still a baby, my parents moved to South Bend, Indiana. They separated a couple of years later and I stayed in Indiana with my father. At the age of nine, I moved to Georgia to live with my mother and I primarily lived there until the present. All of this relocating has made it difficult for me to identify myself with a given location.
Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my more formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.
South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish”. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more acclimated to be comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.
Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and High school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.
I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.
Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my more formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.
South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish”. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more acclimated to be comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.
Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and High school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.
I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Pantry
My wife and I decide to take a drive to our new house. The last couple of weeks, my stepfather and I have been working to get it ready for the “big move”. I was planning to sand some of the sheetrock and maybe add a little paint to some newly added walls, but I am too tired today. Regardless, it is nice to walk around and appreciate the progress of our new home.
Upon entering the front door, I smell the strong odor of paint and sheetrock. I see a light haze that coats everything. As my shoes slide across the hardwood floor, I see a faint mist of chalky white powder fill the air around my feet. Two sets of shoe treads detail our path throughout the house. My wife points to some minor imperfections that she would like me to address, but my focus is on a particular part of the house. I assure her that everything will get fixed and “If I can’t see the minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open.” She then draws her focus to the chandelier in the living room being too small, I reminded her of how short we are, and that it is okay if “we miss a great deal, because we perceive only things on our scale. The lights are out in the far corner of the room. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything”. I can still make out a floor that is littered with various saws, electric drills, and hand tools. All of which, share the same distinct haze. The kitchen is the main area of focus for this trip, so I continue through the house.
I flip the light switch and “I see what I expect”. The large white tiles show some signs of age, but mainly they are just dirty. That is my impression, but “sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.”” The counter top is beset with lunch debris and the occasional beer bottle from the weeks prior, but the intense white of the new appliances add some needed contrast to an area of such disarray. To my left is a new structure. It’s a walk-in pantry that we are working on. I see freshly painted sheet rock with a new white door, much whiter with the tile, but on par with the appliances. It’s the little things that I may overlook that remind me that, “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” The freshly nailed baseboards have not been puttied or painted, but it is what is inside that has my curiosity. I open the pantry door and I realized that, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” With a click that resonates in my ear, a fluorescent bulb above my head automatically illuminates. My stepfather had already completed the sheetrock inside and installed the pantry light. I see my wife’s eyes light up with enjoyment as she sees how this new addition has turned out. I see several spots of fresh sheetrock mud and a bright bulb that has a hodgepodge of wires hanging down from it. I start to contemplate the sanding that I will need to do inside of the pantry and how that haze that covers everything in the house will soon be covering my hands, face, and clothes. This will definitely be a job for another day.
After shutting the pantry door, I took a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship that was caught in my gaze. I went back into the living room, past the tools and across the dusty floor to the front door. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see”, but I am happy to say that this is going to turn out to be a great house. I locked the door and we went home.
Annie Dillard. “Seeing.” From Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Copyright 1974 by Annie Dillard. Reprinted by permission of Harper-Collins Publishers inc.
Upon entering the front door, I smell the strong odor of paint and sheetrock. I see a light haze that coats everything. As my shoes slide across the hardwood floor, I see a faint mist of chalky white powder fill the air around my feet. Two sets of shoe treads detail our path throughout the house. My wife points to some minor imperfections that she would like me to address, but my focus is on a particular part of the house. I assure her that everything will get fixed and “If I can’t see the minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open.” She then draws her focus to the chandelier in the living room being too small, I reminded her of how short we are, and that it is okay if “we miss a great deal, because we perceive only things on our scale. The lights are out in the far corner of the room. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything”. I can still make out a floor that is littered with various saws, electric drills, and hand tools. All of which, share the same distinct haze. The kitchen is the main area of focus for this trip, so I continue through the house.
I flip the light switch and “I see what I expect”. The large white tiles show some signs of age, but mainly they are just dirty. That is my impression, but “sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.”” The counter top is beset with lunch debris and the occasional beer bottle from the weeks prior, but the intense white of the new appliances add some needed contrast to an area of such disarray. To my left is a new structure. It’s a walk-in pantry that we are working on. I see freshly painted sheet rock with a new white door, much whiter with the tile, but on par with the appliances. It’s the little things that I may overlook that remind me that, “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” The freshly nailed baseboards have not been puttied or painted, but it is what is inside that has my curiosity. I open the pantry door and I realized that, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” With a click that resonates in my ear, a fluorescent bulb above my head automatically illuminates. My stepfather had already completed the sheetrock inside and installed the pantry light. I see my wife’s eyes light up with enjoyment as she sees how this new addition has turned out. I see several spots of fresh sheetrock mud and a bright bulb that has a hodgepodge of wires hanging down from it. I start to contemplate the sanding that I will need to do inside of the pantry and how that haze that covers everything in the house will soon be covering my hands, face, and clothes. This will definitely be a job for another day.
After shutting the pantry door, I took a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship that was caught in my gaze. I went back into the living room, past the tools and across the dusty floor to the front door. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see”, but I am happy to say that this is going to turn out to be a great house. I locked the door and we went home.
Annie Dillard. “Seeing.” From Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Copyright 1974 by Annie Dillard. Reprinted by permission of Harper-Collins Publishers inc.
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