Monday, May 23, 2011

Non-News Piece

No making fun. The first actually serious (well, as serious as I can get) article on SummerSalt. This one was actually for an assignment, so if you have a problem with it being worded funny.... There's a small x in the corner of the page for you to click. The assignment was to write about our hero, and this is mine:

Okay, so I know the instructions tell us that details about our hero’s life are unnecessary; however, I know you’re a huge fan of a good story. Well man oh man this is a good story. Once upon a time, in a small village in Hungary by the name of Veszprem, there lived two brothers: Anton and Josef. Now in this far away place in this far away time, arranged marriages were common. Josef was required to marry a girl he had never met from a village across Hungary. Equally as common as the marriages being arranged was the tradition of the brother fetching the bride. So Anton set out on his journey to bring back the lovely new bride Maria for Josef. I bet you can see where this is going. Yep, it’s a love story. On the journey back to Veszprem, Anton and Maria fell in love, fairytale kind of love. Now obviously they couldn’t go back to the village and tell Josef or his family, so they jumped aboard a moving train to run away together. After an unknown period of time, the tickets were requested. Careless train jumpers as they were, Maria and Anton had forgotten to buy tickets. Anton pushed Maria off of the moving train and jumped out after her. The two finally rolled to a stop in France. There they began working as cleaners in a hotel to make enough money to come to America. Then battabingbattaboom, my hero was born. He is my great grandfather: Frank Rezeli.

My Pop-Pop is now ninety-three years old, and he currently resides in an independent living home known as Quail Haven. There are a lot of reasons why Pop-Pop is my hero, but the ones that come to mind immediately are his bravery and independence, his world travels, and his natural humor.

Long ago, Pop-Pop was a colonel in World War II. His first and only minutes directly in battle were at the attack of Pearl Harbor. See, Pop-Pop was an airplane engineer, not a fighter. However, that didn’t stop him from rescuing a commanding officer from a burning tent during the attack. See what I mean? The guy’s like some supernatural superhero. So he’s brave, duh. He was in the army, and he lived to tell the tale. But he’s also independent. He still drives himself everywhere, even at his age. He cooks, he cleans, and he cares for himself. I should also mention that both he and his girlfriend are currently battling cancer. Looking at him, you’d hardly know it. He’s that brave of a guy. When I have the flu, I look like I might keel over at any moment. This guy keeps doing his cooking and cleaning and taking care of his girlfriend. He has to stay strong enough for the both of them, and I can’t even imagine having to go through that. I’m not necessarily saying I want to save anyone from a burning anything, but I want those kinds of guts. I want to have the strength in myself to know that if I were in that situation I would not run away, I would not cower, but I would help people. I’m not sure I’m up to that point yet, but I am working on my poker face. Pop Pop doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeves. If something is bugging him, you might never know. He just seems so… well not cheerful, but so him. I think you’ve noticed my Pop-Pop-esque masking abilities evolving over the past school year. I have a long way to go, but Pop-Pop makes me realize that in the midst of something so horrible, you can still keep your head.

Along with being in the war comes the inevitable traveling. I don’t know how many places Pop-Pop has been to, but believe you me it’s a lot. I have his old money collection stowed away in an old cigar box. In fact, I made earrings out of some coins. I can stare at that money for hours. It’s not its value that strikes me, but the history. Pop Pop was there. He didn’t live like an officer either; he blended in with the natives. Once in Africa he and his comrades had not had much to eat in a long time. They decided to go hunting for wild boars, and that night they chowed down on roast wild boar. Crazy; right? I want that! I want to love and experience those places as much as I do the old currency. I don’t want to dream about it, I want to live it. I don’t want to be one of those people who go to other countries just to stay in fancy resorts and not experience any of what the place is actually like. I want to climb the pyramids, I want to jump with the kangaroos, skip through the streets of Barcelona, dance to the beats of rhythmic African drums, I want to try strange foods no one has ever heard of, and I want to live. All of these verbs are mine to enjoy. They’re all out there waiting for me, just like they waited for Pop-Pop. There are people who dream, and then there are people that do. Pop Pop chose the latter. I intend to as well, and I can add to the collection of various bills and change.

You know those people who can just look at you and you’ll bust a gut? That’s my great-grandfather. Honestly, he’s like the male Betty White. Get them together in a room and I bet you only half the people would walk out with dry pants. We were talking about old TV shows he used to watch. One he brought up was the Lone Ranger. Of course, I had to contradict his and bring up Harry Potter. His response? “Who’s Harry Potter? Some guy with a mustache who does arts and crafts?” That’s my Pop-Pop. The greatest part is, he doesn’t even try. For him, making jokes is natural. It’s as if he was born with the first language of sarcasm. I love the way he can make a whole room crack up with no effort. If I try to be funny, I get a few chuckles and a lot of awkward confused stares. Pop Pop doesn’t let me do that though. When it’s him and me together, we just fire friendly insults back and forth. It’s so awesome. I admire the fact that even in his battle against an awful disease, he’ll still be the first one to break the ice with some hysterical joke. So he’s not just brave, but he’s funny. Maybe the two go hand in hand, who knows? Maybe you need to be brave in order to have a clear head to make room for snide remarks. Either way, I intend to be like that. Even if all I yield is those silent stares, I want to always have enough happiness tucked away somewhere that even in the worst of times I can be lighthearted.

1 comment:

  1. That's awesome. The only relative I have with that kind of history was kindof a nut. He was cool, but being a five-star general takes a toll on one's morality.

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