ENG 110 To Be and Has Been
Chapter 1 A purpose and theme of “To Be and Has Been” well illustrates- for me- the complexity of juxtaposing myself between what is coming- Future Events- and what actually took place- my Past Events. When I look back it is a crafted result set to the tune of that which is remembered and perhaps unprovable, alongside that which is researched and often another person's interpretation. While forward, it partakes in imaging blends of fantasy with a plausible remembered reality to come. printed out in this particular format: a Memoir Essay.
It's important for me to sprinkle in my interpretations of occurrences, especially from extreme infancy (which doubtfully would ever hold up in any court of law!) But, it is my statement from a prime perspective of my earliest childhood, and first memories. The point is not to provoke my reader, and I am not intimating proof of a baby's possible precognitive perception- true or not- rather, I wish to indicate my earliest human images which I feel are truthful and factual to the best of my ability.
The telling of this tale is not intended to resurface, or polish up a tawdry sequence of events; make over myself for a more plausible past, or even forswear my long-gone, forever relationship with my parents. It is meant to portray research I acquired investigating some of my family memories, while I was growing up to be an adult human on this spaceship, planet Earth. Also, in discovering original sourcing for some of my adult personality traits- good or bad- I must acknowledge those as undisguised, personal expressions of my curious Id. More detailed recognition of my past seems irrelevant to the purposes of this essay, as this is not an autobiography. Too many details would appear repetitious anyway, and alter fact. I am concerned how I may have received environmental influences from infancy which manipulates my thinking as an old(er) adult male born in America. That which doubles as a family moment, I call Reality...and even, Life.
Actually, I recognize so little of those surroundings from being a newly born, five month old American male at the time. However, I dug into that family era of my birth- World War II- and obtained, on occasion, personal remembrances of that time from both my parents- of whom my mother is yet alive. Though, at ninety, she is getting quite senile from drugs she is given at a respite home in her North Dakota home town. Mom tells me in our short phone conversations that she still loves me and remembers who I am. I call to ask about flowers I've sent, or on special occasions. Sadly, i repeat myself too many times now for it to be fun.
The most significant thing I take away from that time in my life was the love my parents expressed towards me. Some of which was acquired from sticking together while trying to make sense during explosive, insensitive, worldwide societal developments. They cared for me then, and most certainly cared deeply for each other.
My time breastfeeding as an infant with my mother while my dad was in the middle of his WWII front line experiences on land and sea and in the air, is subjected to my now developed mind's eye viewpoint and interpretations of my parents' first hand recollections. Back then, it was a Life and Death, black and white time in their cognitive world- long range relationship accented with wartime postings; school, and conjugal visiting times. I have only an experimental, experiential research basis to draw current information from my parents during those developing childhood days. I say “experimental”, because I was always a bit shy to ask my dad tell me what went on in detail, or what he endured back then. I never did ask him how many he killed, or what was it about that human skull he had with a large hole in it on top?. My shyness lasted all through til he passed. He was