Growing up, my mother lived in a typical two-bedroom home, had a traditional family setting that included a mother, father, and younger sister in a small town. For those reading my story, it might be hard to imagine why a typical middle American family would move to a Commune in California. Let’s start at the beginning. Small town Boise, Idaho in 1953, a cold Sunday morning a church service was to begin at the Owyhee Plaza Hotel, in which like most Sundays, my mother (Barbara) and grandmother (Muriel) headed to church. At the time their church affiliation was with the Church of Religious Science, which they dearly loved. Sitting in hardback chairs and talking before the service, they noticed a visitor who had just walked in. It was out …show more content…
Krishna told how he had heard about their little gathering and decided to attend the service. Although Barbara did not feel a need to speak to him, Muriel seemed to be drawn to him because Muriel was sure there was something special about this man who seemed quite spiritual. Muriel was so thankful that this holy man was open to talking to anyone who wanted to listen. At 22-years-old Barbara had no intention of hanging around to meet this robe-wearing, barefoot stranger. However, Muriel had a personal motive to talk with him. You see, her husband, Merritt, who was my grandfather, had received a diagnosis of spleen cancer during his last medical appointment. This husband and father were the love of my Muriel's life, and the doctors gave him a prognosis of 6-months to live. She was desperate to do something – anything – to keep him alive. Muriel boldly and intentionally decided to speak with Krishna, and she came right out and asked him if he did any healing, and to her surprise and delight, he replied that he had done some healing. This statement gave her a faint glimmer of hope and ignited a small spark of excitement within her, and she may have found someone who could heal her husband. Therefore, Krishna encouraged her to bring grandfather to his motel room the following afternoon. She thanked him excitedly for
How could a family be shattered overnight in the most horrifying way imaginable and the next week a fore sale sign be the only remnant that a family once lived there? This is what started Lovenheim’s fascination with the associations we share with those who live around us. This brings to mind something expressed in the Catholic Update Guide to Faithful Citizenship. Under the Social Justice portion, Mary Carol Kendzia writes, “Equally fundamental is the principle of the human community. Nobody lives all alone in the world and nobody can survive without interacting with others” (Kendzia, p32). While we understand that it is possible to live isolated from others, what Kendzia is conveying is that the sense of community is innate and is what has helped us thrive as creatures of God. To go against this is not conducive to a healthy community. This innate sense of community was ignored by Lovenheim, and possibly all the residents in the neighborhood, until the tragic even that occurred snapped him out of his learned complacency. Now he was on a mission to get to know his neighbors, but not in a conventional
On the night of Saturday, February 1, 2014, I sat down with my grandfather, David Latta, to conduct an interview with him. He currently lives in Clarkston, Michigan, in the newly refurbished basement in my mother's house, along with my step-father, sister, and her son. One could say that my mother's household is quite the crowded nest, with four generation living under one roof. The perspective my grandfather obtains from living in such an atmosphere, is not only something I kept in mind while conducting this interview, but something that guided my questions.
Family was a place of gathering where people met to eat, drink and socialize. The people in the story were also religious as shown by Mrs. Knox as she prayed for her family. The narrator described th...
The family provides a dense web of social support from cradle to grave. […] Family members help each other during an emergency, a fire or flood, and, of course, at a death”. The Amish community would not have withstood the drastically shifting eras had it not been for their foundation built on solid family and community relationships. Within Amish homes, bonds between siblings, parents and their children, as well as potentially extended families ties including aging grandparents or other relatives, are of utmost importance. Importantly, these interrelationships are not left within the household as the Amish community holds an interconnectedness inclusive to the community that creates an additional support network. This patchwork community of benevolence is not a gift, but a reward. There are expectations and consequences, as the BBC reports “[…] Members are expected to believe the same things and follow the same code of behaviour (called the Ordnung). The purpose of the ordnung is to help the community lead a godly life. […] If a person breaks the rules they may be 'shunned', which means that no-one (including their family) will eat with them or talk to them”. Expectations must be met for an Amish individual to earn and maintain their spot within the community. Despite guidelines wavering depending on each community and their location, the Amish are expected to follow God and seek salvation in a preset and dictated manner. Punishments for breaking the ordnung are strictly enforced and the insubordinate individual is completely excommunicated as a result of their disobedience. Since family connectedness is universally valued amongst Amish communities, if an individual is shunned, they will lose not only their community status but communications will be severed between immediate family members. When applied to education, if prohibited by that particular Ordnung, pursing a higher
When interviewing my grandmother, she automatically told me how different things were back in the day. She mentioned that she was born in a bedroom rather than a hospital setting. She grew up on a farm with her mother and father, and all of her siblings; I think there was eight all together. Her parents did not have electricity growing up, and they did not have indoor plumbing for the longest time. Her parents were religious, but they did not have the time to go to church. Joyce has always been very dedicated Episcopalian, a form of Christianity. She would have to find ways of transportation herself since her parents could not afford to go. It was almost considered a luxury. She actually met her first husband by going to Church every weekend. She would get a ride to church from family friends, and they had a son who was a few years older than she was. My grandmother, Joyce had become pregnant at the young age of sixteen. This actually is not all that surprising, considering her family was very conservative and sheltered her for the majority of her life. Growing up on the farm she was not even allowed to go into the barn when the cows were giving birth to their
Dennis and her family moved to Arkansas. During the early 1900’s opportunities for better work. They had little choice but to attempt to achieve group advancement through economic initiatives and pursuit of better work. Dennis’s mom had become a nurse. This job was very common to have during this time. Instead of going to school she worked. Things were a lot different in the early 1900’s than it was in the 1930’s and 1940’s. Dennis more of a church going person. Church was very important to the family. They relied heavily on their churches. It made them retain their faith in God and found refuge in their churches even when it was
I grew up in Hemet, California in a neighborhood filled with friends that I grew up with. I remembered a lot about my home that I grew up in mostly because I remember details better than most people. I may remember details, but I love looking back on memories I had with my family and friends.
Before you begin reading the main narrative of my essay, I want to let you in on some details about my life and myself. I was born in Manhattan, New York and when I was about twenty two days old, I boarded a plane with my parents on a journey across the United States to the city of San Francisco, then to the town of Grass Valley. This is where my grandmother and grandfather resided. They had been telling my parents that the city of Manhattan was no place to raise a child and that we should move to California and live with them. Before making this life changing decision of leaving most of their friends and loved ones in New York to come to California, my parents sent me off to live in India with my uncle. Keep in mind, I was about the age of two when this all happened. The opportunity of leaving me with my uncle gave my parents about a year to think things over and pull themselves together, in efforts to properly raise a child in a country that was so
I looked around at everyone in the room and saw the sorrow in their eyes. My eyes first fell on my grandmother, usually the beacon of strength in our family. My grandmother looked as if she had been crying for a very long period of time. Her face looked more wrinkled than before underneath the wild, white hair atop her head. The face of this once youthful person now looked like a grape that had been dried in the sun to become a raisin. Her hair looked like it had not been brushed since the previous day as if created from high wispy clouds on a bright sunny day.
Many folks go their whole lives without having to move. For them it is easy; they know the same people, have loads of friends, and never have to move away from their families. As with me, I was in a different situation. I grew up my entire life, all eighteen years of it, in a small town called Yorktown, Virginia. In my attempt to reach out for a better life style, my girlfriend and I decided we were going to move to Shreveport, Louisiana. Through this course of action, I realized that not two places in this country are exactly alike. I struggled with things at first, but I found some comforts of home here as well.
The world I grew up in was small, a close-knit rural area without street lights or sidewalks. Doors were left unlocked and everyone knew each other and, more likely than not, was kin to each other. Men gathered at the store every morning for coffee and news, families went to church picnics and family reunions. Everyone was Catholic and (almost) everyone went to church on Sunday. When the neighbor’s son was arrested and when the school bus driver was diagnosed with cancer, everyone knew. When a family was faced with medical bills they couldn’t afford, there would be a benefit at the church gym; everyone would donate what they could and enjoy dancing, eating, and drinking into the night. Every Saturday my mom and grandma and I would ride 20 minutes into town; groceries from Kroger, a quick stop at the post office and the library, then to Wendy’s for fries and hamburgers. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this quiet little town and the people that lived there would forever influence me, and the person I would become.
Richardson, R. W. (2005). Bowen Family Systems Theory and congregational life. Review & Expositor, 102(3), 379-402.
Mrs. Mallard is an ill woman who is “afflicted with heart trouble” and had to be told very carefully by her sister and husband’s friend that her husband had died (1609). Her illness can be concluded to have been brought upon her by her marriage. She was under a great amount of stress from her unwillingness to be a part of the relationship. Before her marriage, she had a youthful glow, but now “there was a dull stare in her eyes” (1610). Being married to Mr. Mallard stifled the joy of life that she once had. When she realizes the implications of her husband’s death, she exclaims “Free! Body and soul free!” (1610). She feels as though a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and instead of grieving for him, she rejoices for herself. His death is seen as the beginn...
Mrs. Mallard’s repressed married life is a secret that she keeps to herself. She is not open and honest with her sister Josephine who has shown nothing but concern. This is clearly evident in the great care that her sister and husband’s friend Richard show to break the news of her husband’s tragic death as gently as they can. They think that she is so much in love with him that hearing the news of his death would aggravate her poor heart condition and lead to death. Little do they know that she did not love him dearly at all and in fact took the news in a very positive way, opening her arms to welcome a new life without her husband. This can be seen in the fact that when she storms into her room and her focus shifts drastically from that of her husband’s death to nature that is symbolic of new life and possibilities awaiting her. Her senses came to life; they come alive to the beauty in the nature. Her eyes could reach the vastness of the sky; she could smell the delicious breath of rain in the air; and ears became attentive to a song f...
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.