Carl D. Hicks
Instructor Kelly
Anthony
English 101
10 April 2014
What is a place
What is a place?
And where do I want go? Where is it that I’ve been before that I
just have to get back to? This for me is hard being I want to go
everywhere at all times. The idea of places unseen with these eyes
and smelled I haven’t smelled with this nose excites me. If I had
to choose just one place with personal meaning to me, the closest
thing I can think of to one place to me is “the beach”. There is
one beach in particular that has special meaning being it was the
most recent memories I have of my father.
I’m from Chicago
Illinois, a place where silence is a sound all in its own. Where
people and objects seem to buzz by at the speed of life and light.
Colors, sounds, smells all intermingled with diversity of skin,
culture and gender. Different heights, weight and social classes,
some compasses made with morals others with murals. This jungle is
dense with concrete structure and the only patches of grass exist in
between each sectioned off maze of walk and alley ways. As a Child
being raised in the city, the buzz of the constant noise of
thousands of people moving at once all in different directions became
the normal. Everyday seeing the stuff people report on the news or
the theme behind the Sunday night specials via the corner store was
life in the big city. The lullabies at night believe it or not were
the songs of police sirens and the rhythm of gunshot noises. There
was no sleep when it was too quiet outside, just never really
happened. These things day after day, year after year you become
jaded into thinking this way of life is life. That smog and over
population of certain neighborhoods, segregation amongst
socialization, and only aspiring to continue on in this fashion was
all the norm.
This for me all
changed one summer I was set to visit my father in Virginia beach VA
Not only do I get to finally spend some real time with my dad, whom
I’ve spent time with before, but I spent more time learning of his
legend ,but I also get to see what these little eyes have only
dreamed of before. I remember the smell of the chicken frying and the
popcorn popping in the kitchen. The grease popping as she lightly
flours the wings, the white powder hits the air, and about the same
time the oil in the other pot is hot enough to drop in the popcorn
kernels. I recall the old suit case coming down from the top of the
closet, still dusty from the last time it was used. See we were
getting ready for a road trip. The idea of driving from Chicago to Va
as a child it just seemed so far. We didn’t have a thousand
McDonalds and Wendy’s along the route back when, and in our social
class you packed lunches and saved money accordingly. The only
entertainment I remember having as a child was claiming which car we
passed on the highway as ours. The bottles of beer song and annoying
all the adults with the” are we there yet” question. As a child
that question if posed at the right moment can get a wonderfully
aggravated response that leads to muffled chuckles cause you know
your sister is going to ask in t-minus 5 minutess. The songs of the
seventies blaring out of the tape deck, all foreign to us cause those
were moms jams. Songs that made her and my uncle groove as we punched
each other for touching or getting too close in the back all while
trying to remain quiet and still. Definitely didn’t want that hand
that reaches back without looking and just a swinging hitting what
and whoever all the while keeping that other hand on the wheel and
face forward to drive. Minutes turn to hours and songs turn to sleep,
the driving motion and seeing nothing but trees pass in the distance
is somewhat hypnotizing to a child and sleep isn’t an option you
choose, it chooses you. Awaking only to the oohs and ahhs as we get
ready to drive through a tunnel under the ocean. Trying to remain
calm while imaging a whale hitting the side of the tunnel of it
flooding for some reason the ways I would, as the 9 yr old man of the
family, get all my loved ones to safety with my super powers. The
coming out on the other side, literally seeing the light at the end
of the tunnel was the most magical.
Windows are down , the smell of the salt water hitting or nostrils
for the first time, The sun felt like it rested on our shoulders,
just beyond our reach it seemed. When all you see it tall buildings
and shade, seeing the sun in all its orange and bright glory is
amazing. We tried to get used to the humidity and heat all at the
same time, it being our first time we didn’t know what to expect,
and I’m sure my mom didn’t expect two half naked kids in her back
seat either, but you learn to adjust on the fly. All the while the
whispers of two little kids began to grow into questions like, what
is this place? Did we go to another country? Everything was different
from what we knew. There is something more than the city and the
places we see on TV are real, very real and my dad lives here.
From that point on,
something about putting your feet in the soft but gritty sand,
smelling the scent of water heavily salted. The breeze that comes off
the water ever so calmly, imagining how many other feet sank in the
same spot. Looking into the ocean and as far as you can see is more
ocean. Seagulls and other birds of the sea, swaying back and forth
in the wind. Wondering what brave soul in history looked at that and
thought to himself I will not be bound to this boundary because I
know it’s something else out there. It gives me the sense of
infinite options and opportunities. Goals and out comes, games and
endings and that the world is really round, so there isn’t an edge
that you can reach you cant overcome. Almost a metaphor of hope all
in itself.
Not knowing at the time we would only have one more summer with my
dad, being we got to have the last two together in such a wonderful
place made it even more special for me. Makes the thought of this
summer special as well, because I get to have that experience with my
kids. The car ride, the snacks the songs and the most of all, the
memories
