Keeping up with the Joneses: Tayari Jones Reading Reflection

Having already right an excerpt from one of her works, I was not really looking forward to hearing Tayari Jones read. As I entered the Foster Auditorium my thoughts were solely focused on myself, and how proud I was that I could find this hidden spot inside the library. This feeling quickly faded as I noticed the large number of empty seats in the auditorium. I always feel bad for anyone who is presenting infront of any room that is not full. The perfect example is for weddings: I'd rather be in a small church thats filled than a large church that looks almost empty. This empathy was receded as soon Ms. Jones made the transition from Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 of her newly released novel. I found the story very boring and not relatable at all to me. Luckily, her Q and A was able to capture me in a way that her story didn't come close to.

I didn't find any of the things that she said very profound or even useful, but it was nice to see how someone who is successful works. The only problem I had with her writing process was that or not having a final story set for before she starts her project. I am not saying that one must blindly adhere to what they plan before they start writing, but there should be a defined overall arch for the story. But, if it works for her then more power to her.

One of the most interesting parts of the night had nothing to do with what was said in Foster Auditorium that night, but rather how her personality and writing style contrasted with that of Jo Ann Beard. It was amazing to me how two authors can vary so much while at the same time producing works that certain audiences find entertaining. While I do not fall into any of those camps of the entertained, knowing that I can write with any style and make it mine made the night worth while. Overall, I enjoyed the night because it was a unique experience; I'm just happy I don't have to do it again.

Family Dynasty

"With the first selection in the two thousand NFL draft, the Pittsburgh Steelers pick Jerome Bettis!"
"No. I know you like "The Bus" but you can't draft someone already on your team," I slowly released to the words as to not sound too upset at my younger sister. I knew it wasn't her fault. Most 5 year old cheerleaders don't have a full grasp of the NFL draft. As she continued to sway behind the podium I had made out of a pile of telephone books, her long strawberry-blonde hair was barely able to frame the smile that filled up her face. We usually we're able to get along this well, and yes this was pretty good for us, but today was different. Today all my hours spent playing with Barbie and her obnoxious pink motor home had finally paid off. Today was the NFL draft and the entire Cunningham family knew. My mum let me go to church Saturday night so I could spend all Sunday on the draft and my dad let me use the living room, his TV room, for the whole day. I even woke up early so I could clean the living room up and I was so excited that I accidentally swept the entire first floor of the house. Everything was in its right place and today was going to be simply divine. I had my chalkboard directly under the TV which showed amazing college football clips, followed by middle aged men in suits arguing , followed by more college clips and this series continued on and on. And I loved it, I loved knowing that someone drafted by my team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, might be the one guy that finally gets us a championship.

As the start of the draft approached my younger sister had been replaced and now my best friend, my football knowledge equal, Eric was sitting beside me in the living room. Both sets of eyes were perfectly aligned with the TV as we had some pizzaburgers that my mum made. I’m sure that we both thanked her too, it wasn’t often that she allowed us to eat in the living room. I spent the whole day watching as young men walked on stage, shook hands with the commissioner and then held up a jersey with their name on it as the entire audience took pictures. Each prospect drafted looked at his career and saw the endless possibilities that the future held for them. Each and everyone could only see the positives that day and it filled those being drafted and their fans with a sense of hope for the next season.

Most players drafted in the first round expect to become pro-bowlers, win divisions, make the playoffs, win MVP, and then win the Super Bowl. The truth is, half of them only play about 3 years in the league, a quarter will be career journeymen moving from team to team, and of the rest only one or maybe two will be good. But on the day of their draft, anything is possible. I was obviously never drafted into the NFL, but I can’t help thinking that I too was unable to understand that nothing can be taken for granted.

Free Peaches and 25¢ Apples

Everyone had told him that college would be a challenge. That he would be pushed by his teachers. That he would be stressed out of his mind from hours and hours of work. Theodore Hollot had heard it all before his freshman year at Georgia Tech, but no one ever prepared him for this. As he trailed his lawyer into the Fulton County courtroom, he stood with his usually long flowing hair tight in a ponytail and his eyes full of disbelief in what was happening. Since he was never one to blindly follow every rule, he knew that he might run into a some slight trouble his freshman year. He was prepared to get an underage, he was prepared to get caught smoking pot. The 19 year old defendant was prepared for many things going into his freshman year, but this was not one of them.

Standing in court, his mind went back to his years of high school at Seton-La Salle. Theodore was seen by his classmates as just a normal, funny guy. Yes, he was a little out there but most found his eccentricities and self given nickname of "Peaches" amusing as seen by the title of Class Clown and Most Likely to Skip Class. Now he was Most Likely to be a Terrorist.

As he returned back in his mind, the judge was reading the felonies off like a starting line up of mischief: possession and manufacture of an explosive device, aggravated assault ,aggravated battery and a misdemeanor charge of reckless conduct to top it off. His lawyer, Sandra Michaels, tried her best to explain that he never meant to hurt anyone and the dry ice bombs he made were just to duplicate what he had seen in class. As she was trying to convey this message, Theodore knew that the injured worker who picked up the bomb right before it exploded was behind him in the courtroom and he knew that his presence spoke more than his lawyer could. Peaches took a moment to take in the odd grandeur this moment held. As he rose up to hear his sentence a smile flicked onto his face and fell off just as quickly. This was it.

*Source = http://gtalumni.org/buzzwords/nov05/article405.html

The Mitchell Shirt

As the camera was pointed at me, I titled my head until I was told I had the right angle and calmly stared off into the crowds of families walking in the distance. I normally would smile for pictures but I was normally not in front of a green screen.

A few seconds later and I looked over at the monitor and saw the picture that would follow me for the next 14 years of my life: the body of Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Neil O'Donnell with the face of the seven year old me. I instantly became captivated by this image and knew that I had made the right selection for my one gift from our family vacation to Sea World. I don't know what Neil O'Donnell has to do with Sea World, but I am happy the two are somehow related.

To this day I am still thankful that I chose to get this image on a shirt instead of a mouse pad, but at the time it seemed like a tough choice. In my many years of playing eeny meeny miny mo this selection from the miny mo divines has certainly been their best. The shirt fit loosely over my young frame, but I always wore bigger shirts back then. The shirt looked just like any poorly designed shirt you can make online now, but back then I thought it was amazing. The shirt was plain white with the image of the Neil/Mitchell hybrid just about throw the football down the field placed right in the center. My selection of the image stemmed from my love of football over the three seasons I had already played and I swore that day to wear this shirt for every football game I played in for the rest of my life; I assumed this shirt would last me until I retired from the NFL.

It looked very gimmicky but I made it my gimmick. The following football season for the Finley Bears, I wore what came to be known as the Mitchell shirt underneath by shoulder pads and my teammates loved it. I told most of them that yes, that was all me and I used to play for the Steelers and some believed my story and others just thought it looked good. The fact that I also played quarterback helped me persuade some people that my arms really used to be the size of the 30-some year old NFL starter. The shirt was with me for the rest of grade school and even made it through high school with me. In high school I had a few people who would give me a hard time for wearing the shirt and the once solid white now appeared almost see-through. As I became a starter by junior year, some teammates would actually make me double-check that yes, I did have the shirt with me. I knew the shirt wasn't truly lucky but I also knew the placebo affect is pretty amazing. Now that I no longer play football, I have the shirt hanging in my room with all my old jerseys. I treat most clothes as if they wronged me before but I treat the Mitchell shirt like it's been blessed.

Neil O'Donnell will always be remembered as the man who lost Super Bowl XXX for the Steelers, but I like to think of him as the guy who let a seven year old live out a dream if only for a second and then 14 years after that.