Ron Burgundy

My first car. He was a burgundy 2004 Chevy Trailblazer, complete with four wheel drive and non-leather seats. He was a beaut and man was he good to me. He went through more with me than any car, or person for that matter, should have to go through with a girl. I don't really have any great picture of him - but here is a nice one of his rear.

In high school, your car practically defines who you are, or at least where I'm from. So you might notice the four stickers on the back. It is fair to say that those also represented all the treasures that filled every inch of Ron. I'll start with the two typical high school stickers, my volleyball and theatre found on the right side.

With volleyball came the beautiful stench that developed in Ron during season; a mix between dirty feet and forced air freshener, occasionally mixed with Hawaiian Febreze. The emergency volleyball supplies Ron held handy at all times consisted of: one all-weather volleyball, a pair of athletic clothes incase a spontaneous sand volleyball game were to occur, knee-pads with a stench that carried for miles, water bottles for hydration and Gatorades if my electrolytes were to get low, a box of Mueller Pre-Wrap in forrest green to tend to my tendonitous and become an instant headband, and of course, socks. Socks of different heights, colors, patterns, and solids. Even though volleyball was my main squeeze, I could still get down on the tennis court. Because of that, my tennis racquet and a three pack of Wilson US Open tennis balls was always available in the trunk, along with a spare frisbee, hacky sack, baseball glove and bathing suite.

Well, if that isn't enough, we move onto the next sticker: theatre. Now with this, Ron was put to a challenge. See, this could include any prop, costume, or set piece you can think of. It has ranged from a pirate costume, tree branches, an Iron Man mask, fake flowers and fruit, a thrown, chainsaw, british hats, gogo boots, and any wig you can imagine. Mullet, Bieber, clown afro, 1970s afro, Repunzel hair, red bob, black goth, blonde locks, and even clip in colored hair pieces. I was known to have the miniature costume closet in my trunk, so when on the go, or even buying food in a drive-thru, we could always provide an interesting twist to an unfortunate stranger's night.

Anyway, if you direct your eyes to the left side of Ron's rear end, you will notice my Young Life sticker and "Earth/Art" sticker from the Modern. In high school I was miss Young Life, and I am still in love with the ministry. I would sport that sticker on on my car now if I still had one. With this, there weren't a lot of objects floating around, besides the flyers that would eventually cover my floor board. With this label came the obligation and opportunity to cart people everywhere. I would pick friends up for club on Monday night, drive my girls around to get snowcones, and stuff people in the trunk when all the seats were filled. And well, with the Modern sticker, I went through a big art phase, where all I wanted to do was go to plays and museums and really care about something, so that sticker really "spoke to me" when I saw it at the Modern. Impulse ya know? Better then a tattoo. 

Poor Ron got picked on by friends and the police more then he could help. He was pretty magical in the way that he could transform into a jungle gym, climbing wall, bed, canvas, and race car. Not only was he bullied by outside forces, but had to deal with a pretty crappy driver. I managed to get pulled over six times while with him, and pushed his max speed to 110 mph a few times when racing after church (luckily I never got pulled over during any of these races). Oh yeah, and he got banged into a mailbox, two stationary cars, and a lot of curbs. He took it like a man though; he was a man. 

Ron had a free spirit. He loved to drive around for hours with no final destination - just cruisin'. He would jam out hard, allowing the radio to blast and his antenna blow in the wind. He always came through whether it was just my daily drive to Starbucks, mudding through the trails, or a friend and I went to Oklahoma on impulse. He was down and ready for any adventure thrown his way. There are times that I see Ron's impostors on the road and find myself missing him; the easy turn of the wheel, the break that wasn't as sensitive as I needed it to be, the quiet purr of his engine starting so my parents couldn't hear when sneaking out, and the stick that would shift from drive to neutral with no command. He always came through when I needed him most, keeping me safe and happy. He provided my freedom, sparks of joy, and means of being spontaneous. He was there when I needed to cry, when I needed to scream, and most importantly, put up with my singing voice when no one else would.

"I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal" - Ron Burgundy 

Ron - you are a big deal in my eyes. Thanks for everything. 

Christmas with the Fam

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year because of family. On the Walker side, there are forty-five of us total. Nana and pa, ten aunts and uncles, and now thirty-three cousins including spouses. There is always more food then you can possibly eat, more cookies than chocolate milk to accompany them, and if you think my laugh is bad - with the whole family we could supply energy for a small village with the noise we provide. 

Every christmas memory that pops into mind has two things in common. Setting: Nana and Pa's house. In the picture above we are sitting in a small portion of the front yard. This is their house in Beaumont, Texas, that we went to every year until I was a freshman in high school.  Theirs is the house to the right with the "Chester the Molester" van in the drive way. At the time my uncle Dave drove that beauty around, and had the thickest mustache a man could ask for - thus came his title as Chester. The second thing, cast: (from left to right) Becca (born in 1993), Kelsey (1989), Taylor (1990), and myself (1991). Other people play part, but they are the three cousins I have always been closest too, and thus manage to make it into everyone. 

Now ever since I can remember, the four of us have always received the same general gift. It has varied from Simba stuffed animals, indoor laser tag vests, Mary-Kate and Ashley movies, and easy-bake ovens. The one Christmas I will never forget is the year we all got a Razor scooter with green wheels and a Gameboy complete with Frogger and Pokemon games. 

Yes, yes, I know we look good. And I know I'm the coolest because I had a scooter pet. But seriously, we were obsessed. We missed the annual front yard football game to scoot around the neighborhood, refused to get a ride to the park to play hide-and-go-seak, but had to "drive" ourselves, and barely touched the back yard bounce house we had that year because we couldn't take our scooters inside of it. Once it got dark, and strangers and rabid dogs began to patrol the neighborhood, we would sit inside and play our gameboys. Nana and Pa have never been so good to us. Santa couldn't touch what Nana and Pa could do. 

Now as we continue to grow older, the gifts have changed, and our excitement to "play" with them has withered away. Yet, our excitement to see each other and play with each other will never go away. Even now when our lives look pretty different, Kels is about to start talking about marriage, Tay is partying away at Texas Tech, and Becs is just starting her college life in Austin, we are always kept close by the bonds of family, and particularly, Christmas. 

The Creek.

I grew up in suburbia twenty minutes north of Dallas. My front yard was in a city named Richardson, and my back yard resided in good ole' Garland. My backyard was my barbie dream house. Sure I played inside when I was younger, when I was at friend's houses we would play with barbies or play school. But when we were at my house, you couldn't drag us inside. We had a swing set, slide, hammock, huge trees perfect for climbing, a trampoline, and pool with primo diving ledge. However, the real adventure and fun came beyond the fence.

It was a four foot, black metal fence that held everything in, and kept everything I wanted out. The paint was chipping and it was beginning to lack stability. The door to adventure was old, rusted and virtually impossible to open unless you had the magic touch of an adult. Haley and I would tug at that handle every day one summer until we realized we could just jump the fence. We were in third grade, and once we got over, there was no keeping us away. Somehow, in the middle of suburbia, a thick stretch of land managed to stay populated with huge trees, poison ivy, dead logs, a winding creek, lake, and paths forged by kids before us. We had explored through this land before with our dads when we would go fishing on the dock, but it seemed so much bigger and exciting on our own.

The creek was our summer house. Once you hop the fence, it was a short two minute walk to the bridge that led across the creek, but where most continue forward with the lake as a final destination, we took a sharp right. The ground is all dirt, welcoming your footprints, guiding and misleading explorations. The creek is sunken into the ground, from the path it is probably a solid eight or ten feet under. After following the creek for a little, we would slide down to be creekside. It was shallow for the majority and only a few feet wide in places. Mossy rocks to step across, sand to sink your toes in, leaves for picking, empty water and beer bottles to fill with water, pieces of tile, part of a fence, and rocks to skip. Everybody else's trash that ended up in that small stretch of the creek was our treasure. The smell was a typical stench of dirty water and outside, but to us, it meant more. It meant freedom, creation, imagination, and adventure.

The best part was an old tree, it was our "bedroom". The trunk started up where the path was, but down creekside, where there should have been land that surrounded the roots, it was open air. Over time mother nature managed to push out all of the mud, dirt, rocks, and critters in a six foot area between the bottom of the trunk and where the ground was now to create the best fort a child could ask for. We managed to decorate and furnish it. Where you could easily fall into the creek between two roots, we posted the old fence piece up as a guard. We found an old tire, that became a chair. Golf balls and broken tile went in the bark to add a creative touch. We made ourselves a home.

Despite the threat of bugs, coyotes, bobcats, poison ivy, snakes, and thorn bushes, we would stay down there until the sun set. It was our oasis, where we were free to make up our own world and live whatever life we wanted.

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been

Out of all the stories this year, this is the one that managed to keep my attention the best by keeping me on edge throughout the whole story. I read Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been two weeks before the class day for it since it was my groups presentation story, yet when my roommate walked in on me reading it she thought I was stress reading for class because I was that sucked into the story. 

So what about it had me that engaged? Really, I don't know. It was a very odd story, and really dark. It was sad watching Connie force herself to grow up much faster then a girl should. It was sad to watch her far-away dreams and romantic fantasy become a sad, crude reality.  Maybe it’s so heartbreaking because so many girls do that now. It is normal for girls to be pregnant and unmarried in high school, magazine’s sell sex, and youthful girls force themselves to be more sexually mature then they are physically, mentally, or spiritually. Maybe the story is so sad because it can be so convicting to our society.

It reminded me a lot of the Yellow Woman; the whole idea of dream versus awake and myth versus reality. For Connie, the music was her dream. She romanticized life using lyrics and rhythm from songs she loved. Yellow woman lived in a myth she had heard growing up, that myth became her reality. Connie’s myth of the music, became her reality, but in a very ugly way – in a way she never before intended or probably thought possible. Her coming of age was thrust upon her, because she put out the temptation. 

The Man Who Was Almost a Man

When it comes to the theme coming of age, this story exemplified it the best to me. It truly shows that not only the decisions you make can define your life, but more than that, the way you deal with your decisions and face the people affected by them. 

Life is about more then just actions, it is more then just a flip of a coin and choosing one way or another. Once you made your decision, the most important part is dealing with it. Being honest in word with friends and family, loving in actions towards all, and being mature and confident in what you are deciding. If there are consequences (and there always are), you must be a man and look them in the face to deal with them. Life is difficult, and is a constant learning process. No one will ever be perfect or learn it all, and everyone will make a bad or wrong choice somewhere along the road. I have made plenty, and in my climax of immature life in the past, I dealt with things the wrong way, and hurt people along the way. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but I wasn't able or willing to grow up and be mature at that point in my life. Yet, seeing the way it affected people, that the smallest things you do can leave a huge stamp on someone else's life, makes you realize that running away isn't the answer. I like to think I have matured in the last few years, but it is a process. I like to think I am going through my "coming of age"stage now, so who knows where I will end up. Only God. 

The Lottery

The second story that anyone could ask me about and I would immediately know what to say is The Lottery. Shirley Jackson did such a great job at keeping the ending hidden. I wasn't a big fan of the short story for the first four pages. It moved to slow, with more detail then I really cared for dealing with a box and rituals, after all - it's just a lottery. Well, around page five is when you start to get the hunch that something isn't right, that this lottery isn't normal. Before, I just wasn't quite sure what it was for, could have been money, or food, or no taxes, but definitely something pleasant none the less. Now you realize you don't want to win the lottery. My first reaction is death, but then I second guessed myself by saying there was no way.

Well - there was a way. By stoning her. It is a story that speaks volumes, because it seems to be in a whisper the whole time until you reach the plot twisting climax. I read this story and just assumed it was back in an earlier century. So when you look at the date it was intended for, 1948, it especially seems ridiculous. That is how our society is though. We don't go around randomly stoning one person each year, but when push comes to shove, you don't want to be the one shoved. It is amazing how quickly some people can throw friends "under the bus" when it means they advance further in life, or how so many people have a mindset to not truly care for neighbors and reach out. We are becoming a society where pure kindness and caring shown through face to face interactions of one reaching out to another is dwindling. Sure, maybe you would be sad if someone in your dorm got robbed, but as long as it wasn't you, some might even help the robber. Obviously The Lottery is an extreme example, but still.

Many of us aren't living our lives with the care and love we are called to do, and a huge factor is because it is normal not to. It was normal and expected to stone one person each year. It is normal for divorce to happen and it is expected by most here to receive presents Christmas morning. The society you grow up in has the serious ability to shape you, your beliefs, your expectations in and from life.

I know this post was kind of all over the place, sorry.

Yellow Wall-Paper

If you were to say the name of one of the short stories we read this year, it would take me a while to remember what it was about (if I could truly remember at all). However, there were a few that really stuck with me, proving that they meant something to me - so I will write the next few blogs about those stories.

The first of which is The Yellow Wall-Paper. I'm not clinically crazy, I've always been invited to express my feelings and thoughts, never experienced post-partum depression, and have never been locked in a room with bars on all windows. I don't know why I related to her, or to the story, but for some reason I did. The story was an extremely captivating one. It is easy to read, and you are intrigued to turn the page to hear her next thoughts. It is an extremely sad story, watching our narrator turn from almost innocent and lost, being told to not work and sit in this room. I can't imagine being cooped up all day - I would go crazy too. If you aren't aloud to socialize, to work, paint, create, live life, how can you ever be expected to go back to living a normal life. You can't. She was doomed from the start.

The think what really makes me think about this story is just how infatuated and obsessive she was the inanimate object. Trying to put myself in that state of mind is simply impossible. It really saddens my heart to see the poor state of mind she was in, and the lack of anyone truly helping, anyone asking her what she needs and really listening.

Conversation Partner: Hittin' the Gym

Apparently in Asia, they don't work out. My roommate, who is a pale white girl, has been to Asia, and has a lot of random friends from China and the Koreas, informed me of this fun fact once I got home from my gym date. They do Tai Chi (spelling?) and some other form of something to stay in the tiny form they have. This would have been good information to know before I left to meet with Yenyoung.

We met up outside the gym, and she was in something that would be the equivalent to an iconic Juicy jumpsuit. So I politely asked her if she still wanted to go to the gym, or just go grab some food. She responded that she was ready to work out, so we proceeded inside.

The few times she has been there it was only to do the running machines, so she wanted to learn how to do the weight machines. This is a simple enough task - just teach a few machines on arms, legs, and do some core exercises after. Everyone can handle the machines to some extent, right? Wrong. The first two leg machine we did, she could handle. And it was great - good bonding exercises. But then we did some arm lifting, and there was one machine she physically couldn't life five pounds on. I was completely shocked. I tried to motivate her and help as much as I could, but when it got down to it - I was shocked. I just never realized that there are people who have never intentionally done exercises to strengthen their muscles before. After that we did some core work out, and after a total of 50 crunches (a variety of sorts to give her credit) she was done.

The comment that caught me most off guard was, "I'm starting to sweat - no more." Sweat was a sign of being finished, where as here, sweat means your finally starting to get a work out. It was so interesting, and honestly, not what I was expecting.

After lifting weights we got smoothies and chatted about history. U.S. history in the 1940s and 1950s, and then I got to hear her point of view on Korea's history - particularly with the war between the North and the South and the affects that continue to remain in the two nations. It was extremely interesting to hear about. All in all, not the best work out I have ever partaken in, but a great day at the gym.

Conversation Partner: Pho

We planned to meet at a Vietnamese noodle restaurant called Pho at 1:05. Well my great direction skills plus the lack of help from my GPS with this new establishment, I was fashionably late.When I finally arrived, there was great conversation awaiting.

We talked about the Korean culture and how it is different from here. It was interesting that the first thing she mentioned was about transportation. She talked of how she was at first very intimidated and nervous about driving everywhere, because back home everyone walked or used public transportation. The conversation wove in and out from street life to holidays to family and relatives. It was fun. We laughed, and shared family anecdotes.

The most interesting part was to see how the waiters treated her. She was clearly the elder of the two of us, and very clearly asian. At first they turned to her for our orders, you could tell they were expecting a lot from her. Yet when her poor english came out, now being able to tell she wasn't Vietnamese or American, they turned to me in hope. Then for the rest of the meal they would turn to me for everything, wouldn't even acknowledge her barely. It was odd, and really sad to see happen honestly.

But by the end of the meal we had a really great time. Shared some tofu fried rice and edamame, and parted ways.

Conversation Partner: tired of meetings

Yenyoung and I met at Einstein's again this past Wednesday. We sat, I ate a bagel, and two interesting points of conversation arose.

One of which was about religion. She asked me about places her daughters could do volunteer work - specifically libraries and churches. I gave her as much help as I could considering she resides in Keller. Then she asked me how much volunteer work I do per week. I was slightly taken off guard by this question, because I have never considered it myself. I gave her my high school average - which was maybe three hours on a good week. She asked about it now though, and I really had to think about it before I gave her the answer of at least 10 hours a week. Taken back, she asked what it was I did. From there I continued to tell her about Young Life, mainly making it sound like a mentor program with high school students, but she was still confused as to why I would give away so much of my time to simply mentor and get nothing in return. So it was there that I began to talk about God some, nervous of what the reaction would be, and to my surprise it was almost a joyful smile that spread across her face. She doesn't go to church, and isn't a Christian, but she is curious. She finds it intriguing and loved hearing about it. It was a great conversation that went from there.

Then after all our talking, the final thing she hit me with is that she didn't want to just meet anymore. She wanted to start doing things, going places, and experiences TCU and Fort Worth more. So next week we are meeting at a Vietnamese Restaurant were she is buying me lunch. I am a picky eater - so this will be interesting. Then as I am going to get my bike, she asked if I work out. And yes - you guessed it - she wants us to work out together in the gym. I'm down. So in two weeks you will be hearing anecdotes from our trip to the gym. Get excited.

Library Research 2

I looked at two articles from Life Magazine: December 20^th and 27^th 1968. Once again, me being a nerd when it comes to advertising, that is what stood out to me in the December 20^th issue, while the 27^th was a special issue highlighting Picasso’s life and artwork. Also being an art nerd, I found that fascinating. Thus, I took on both issues.

Starting with the December 20^th issue, it being right before Christmas, you would expect the majority of advertising to be geared towards last minute Christmas presents. When I think of Christmas presents (even what I would suspect to be given back then), I think of jewelry, electronics, toys, potentially a car or even house slippers. However, the majority of advertisements were for alcohol.  There were a few for camera flashes, one for televisions, a digital watch, Campbell’s Soup, Crest toothpaste, and Old Spice. Then nineteen for different alcoholic beverages.  Nineteen: Smirnoff, Four Roses, I.W.Harper, Calvert, Jim Beam, and Johnnie Walker Red, just to name a few. Most of the ads included slogans such as “overgive.”, “Christmas Whiskey”, “Gift of the month.” With the exception of “A Christmas Prayer” on page three (which you can only tell is a life insurance ad if you pay attention to the small font at the bottom of the page) the only other sign of Christmas cheer and spirit was in the advertisement, and as I stated above, mostly alcohol advertisement. It just makes me wonder, why? Why was there such a high magnitude of alcoholic advertisement? Because people drank more? Because it was more socially expected? Because that is truly what people wanted in 1968? Then it makes me further wonder, what was the root of their desire for it? And has that root been pulled from our society today? Or is it just more frowned upon? Or there are greater desires now that didn’t exist in the 1960s?

Nixon passed the Comprehensive Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism Prevention, Treatment, and Rehabilitation Act of 1970, and to many that marked a time when this alcohol abuse was being recognized by the nation, and finally helped to bring change to the problem. It is interesting though, because statistics show that in the 1960s, the United States was ranked number ten among countries for amount in liters per capita consumed. However, current day our rank has gone down to number twenty, yet our liters per capita have gone from 7.8 to 8.3. I don’t know what it all means, but it makes you think about what appeals to society, and what is socially acceptable, expected, frowned upon, or even old news.

The other thing that stood out to me in the December 20^th issue was the front cover article; an unpublished manuscript by Mark Twain, Huck Finn & Tom Sawyer: Among the Indians. In the middle of Life were the first and only nine chapters to this Mark Twain book. So, of course, I read them. It opened up with Huck addressing the reader about the previous book, and he briefly goes over what happened in it, and where the characters are now. Then begins the great adventures that children and adults a like love to read about. Twain takes us from Tom’s extraordinary arguing skills to show why they should go find the “Injuns”, to their adventure threw the woods with the Mills, murder, running from the Indians, hiding out, to chasing the Indians and their captives down. Twain has us trekking along with our protagonists, Tom, Huck, Jim, and Brace, on the trail of the Injuns, until he leaves us hanging mid-sentence in Chapter nine. No one really knows why Twain stopped writing, apparently Twain thought it was terrible and he “haven’t a paragraph to show for [his] three months’ working season.” Well Mr. Twain, I don’t know much about writing, but from what I read, you could have made a mighty fine novel and piece of literature from what you started.

Onto a different cover story on December 27^th, the special edition of Picasso. The entire 125 pages of Life were about him and his life. It walks the reader through his time in Spain, his work with cubism, his many women, and so much more. The article allows an insight to what inspired Picasso’s various masterpieces, and variety of styles. I absolutely loved reading and learning about it.

I loved learning about the women in his life, and seeing the different ways he portrayed them. Even though so many of his portraits look the same, and look as if they could be solely a figment of his imagination, it is fascinating to see where the inspiration came from for each piece. I began to notice the differences between each piece of artwork, in style, nose shape, the emotions behind the eyes. His artwork is truly an extravagant autobiography of his struggles, love, and experiences in life.

 “We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” That was my favorite line of the whole article. It is something I think I always knew, but that Picasso put into words perfectly. It adds such a new dimension to his artwork, to truly think of it with that on the forefront of your mind. What truth is he trying to portray? It speaks volumes for any piece of art, not to try to find what the artist is attempting to portray, but what truth comes from that portrayal. Every piece of art, and every interpretation of art, is biased. Yet there is a universal truth behind every piece, it is just finding it.

Fun Fact: Once I was done with this assignment I went online and ordered myself an old copy of the Picasso edition Life Magazine. 

Conversation Partner: round two

I arrived at Einstein's ten minutes early to grab some lunch and a table. I ran into a few friends and being a little bit of a social butterfly, I decided to stop by their table to chat. They asked me what I was doing there and I got the pleasure of telling them about our class assignment. After laying out all the details for them, they were intrigued and impressed that this was required for a class. Each of them wished that they got an experience like that while here, and their high appreciation for this aspect of class increased my own.

Anywho, I saw Yenyoung walk in and left them in order to greet her. Being caught up with my friends, I never got food before so I went through the line with her. She wouldn't take no as an answer today when purchasing our drinks and bagels, so I reluctantly accepted. I find it so fascinating how insistent she is when it comes to paying for drinks and meals. I suppose it is expected in South Korea, or a common gesture to do for someone. After our food came out, and she made her coffee just right, we sat down to talk.

The thing that stood out most to me in our conversation was her longing to improve her english, and how insistent she was with me to help her correct any sentence or pronunciation that wasn't perfect. It was challenging for me, because I don't know how to teach. I'm not sure what the proper way is to correct english, or even if my syntax is completely correct. Since she was putting such a challenge upon herself to do better, it challenged me as well so I can be there for her to help.

That day was all about how the conversation was spoken, not the subject of conversation. And I've never gone into a conversation with the goal or view before, so it was a new experience.

Conversation Partner: and so it begins

My conversation partner is great. If you asked me to describe her in five words: Has. Only. Experienced. South. Korea. Her name is Yenyoung. She is extremely enthusiastic about learning the English language and about American culture. I met her in the first floor of the BLUU, feeling like I was on a blind date because we exchanged information about our clothing color (I felt like I should have been holding a rose), I notice her stop talking to someone midsentence to come greet me. She insisted on buying me coffee, and I insisted otherwise. After an awkward pause, because she didn’t understand why I wouldn’t want someone to buy me something, we sat down and began to introduce ourselves.

She is married and has a family consisting of a fifth and seventh grader. They reside in Keller, TX, and will be there for a total of two years for her husband’s job transfer. She shops at the Asian market three times a month to stalk up. Her kids love spaghetti, but she doesn’t understand it.  Americans like bread. Her two kids, who’s names I can’t pronounce, are assimilating to America very well and have a lot of friends here. She was an elementary school teacher back home.

It is so much fun talking to her because even though she still isn’t super strong in the language, she is so confident in herself and anxious to learn. She fired questions at me: about school here, about the variety of cultures the US has in different regions, about the large portions of food served at restaurants, how to cook food, and if I had a boyfriend (not trying to stereotype, but she sounded exactly like Anjelah Johnson’s impersonation of “nail salon” lady on YouTube – it was awesome). She was incredibly personable and excited to talk more.

When leaving our first meeting, we were setting up a place to meet next time and she offered to pay me to bring friends, because she wanted to meet more people. I told her I would love to bring friends, but there was no need to pay. She still didn’t seem to understand that, and insisted she pay at least four more times. Finally plans were made, but the one problem was I couldn’t understand where she wanted to meet next time. It sounded like she was saying “Ace-staynce“ to me, and despite her repeating it three times, I couldn’t figure it out. I told her to text me the name and address, and I would make it there.  Today she texted me saying, “see you at Einstein’s on University”.  See you tomorrow Yenyoung! 

Library Research

Advertisement. The magazine is full of it. By looking at the advertisements of the time, you get a good sense of the people they are selling to. Life magazine has a very broad audience, thus their advertisement would be a good picture of the average consumer in America at the time.

The year is 1937, the October 4^th issue of Life. One of the first advertisements a reader would come upon is for the Remington Noiseless typewriter. The concept behind selling this typewriter is asking the question if parties and a job mix; well don’t fret, because the Remington can “handle both!” In reality, dancing at night has no effect on whether or not your typewriter is quiet and functioning well, nor vice versa. However, this ad campaign sold typewriters. This advertisement, along with one for Maxwell House coffee that “keeps them on top”, plays off the fear of public acceptance and different social anxieties many consumer Americans had in the late 1930s. Today, we would look at these ads and know that drinking Maxwell coffee is not the pivotal point of staying at the top of social hierarchy, even Starbucks for that matter. So it forces the question, have these social anxieties gone away, or are advertisers targeting them differently in today’s world?

The thought of social anxieties going away is almost laughable; I don’t think they ever will. People are always going to be concerned about what others think, about making a good impression, about being able to impress someone. It is in our faulty flesh to think that way.  In the 1930s, the main sources of these anxieties seem to come from what one owned and used to make them presentable. Where as today, that is still a factor, but in advertisement we see a lot more focused on body image. I read an advertisement in Life for Listerine’s treatment of dandruff. The advertisement was very scientifically driven making claims such as “76% got relief” and “kills pityrosporum ovale...” using language an average American wouldn’t understand. Listerine made claims that it was clinical proof, cured rabbits, and it provided relief in two weeks. When I first saw this ad, I thought it was ridiculous and over the top for dandruff relief. Yet looking at it a second time, I was quick to realize that it is very similar to weight-loss advertisements we see today. There are all sorts of new magic diets and pharmacy approved extreme weight loss pills. These use the exact same antics to target the same audience: the American consumer with social anxieties, probably one of the largest and most profitable targets.

So really, as different ads seem to be in different time eras, the means of our culture hasn’t changed. It is our culture the ads adapt to in order to speak to a different generation, but bottom line, it is always the same thing happening. Some ads make this point more clear. Coca-cola had an ad I found interesting in Life that closely resembles the Coke ads of today. It depicted a family drinking together declaring, “Happy moments make a happy family.” This Coca-Cola ad could have the logo blurred out, but I would still know it was for Coke. Different times, same message.

So all of this makes you wonder, is it our need to consume what motivates the advertisers, or is it the advertisements that instill a deeper want to consume? It is a chicken or egg question that we will probably never truly know the answer to.

On a slightly different note, I found it interesting how many of the articles were more consumed with pictures then words. I felt like the advertisements had more to say with their words then the articles did. Yet, two articles that really caught my eye based on content was an article talking about the “spectacular Nazi Congress” and another about the women of the KKK in a church in Washington. Of course there is a picture revealing the scene being talked about, and it was that picture that included a flaming cross at the front of a church, that really caught me off guard. I’ve learned about the KKK in school, and have seen it replicated in movies, but have never seen a true account. The image is shocking, especially in the fact that it is women that are part of the Klan. During this time men were still clearly seen above women (advertisement helps verify by targeting all vacuum cleaners and kitchen supplies to women), yet women were allowed in the Klan and seemed to play a significant role. It’s sad they would play such a large part in degrading a race, yet they themselves aren’t even considered equals in their own home. I found that article very eerie.

Overall, I really enjoyed looking at the 1937 edition of Life. It is cool to see how our generation relates to the people of that time and how our cultures overlap. It is interesting how true that is considering the vast difference of what was happening then compared with now. Even though we have evolved in many ways, there is always going to be a story to report and a product to sell.