From Here to Fredonia

By Georger, Kyle; Baier, Gary et al. | Papers on Language & Literature, Fall 2008 | Go to article overview

From Here to Fredonia


Georger, Kyle, Baier, Gary, Reilly, Owen, Papers on Language & Literature


Comfort We Know

COMPOSED BY KYLE GEORGER

Lots of woods, farm animals, corn, and the smell of manure define my home environment. Over the summer, I would wake up every morning at seven a.m., help with the cleaning of the barn, feed the animals, and take on any other projects my dad had for me. The one distinct thing my home environment has is its smell, can't go anywhere else for it, because it's yours, nobody else's and that's what makes it so authentic and rare.

Family, love, sense of belonging. I know whenever I have a bad day, home is right where I want to be. Home is a place so comfortable, a place I know, and a place I can trust and always rely on. The sense of love and belonging is there too. My parents, best in the whole wide world, give me everything I need to succeed, and are always there for me, through all the good and through the bad, I know I can go to them for anything. Being home, sitting on the couch, it's just that place, my own comfort zone. A place that is so describable, yet so indescribable because as much as you can try to describe it, you just can't, that's just the way it is.

Television. When I was younger I would wake up to Saturday morning cartoons; you know, the ones called "One Saturday Morning." Our society today relies so much on the media box for news, the big game, or another new episode of Desperate Housewives. At least, families that are fortunate to have one. They just sit there, not asking for anything from us, and we allow them to be the centerpiece of our family room.

Community, family. These things are one and the same for me. My town is a place where everyone knows everyone; but it's not one of the towns that you see in the movies where people everywhere are cheerful and you know everyone who brushes on by. You see, we aren't actors or characters. We are people who are more important and real than that. We are a tight community that, well if you mess up, everyone will know the next morning, and if you achieve something great, well they know, and you don't stop hearing congratulations for a few weeks, which I guess is sort of nice, flattering.

Zen-like, joyful, peaceful, loving and caring. That is my home. I have lived in three different places since I was seven years old, and now I call Fredonia home for right now. Moving around as a youngster, you learn a lot, the people the places, always changing. Like moving is fun, but just think about all the new roads you have to learn as a driver, it's the worst part. I remember when I was trying to go to the grocery store when I was in Poughkeepsie, and I was totally living in Fairport at the time, and when I pulled out of the driveway and realized what I was doing, well I realized I had no clue where I was going at all.

Materials and Memories

COMPOSED BY GARY BAIER

My excitement builds in anticipation of the unpaved path that lies ahead. My whole life has been leading up to this moment. I've always had a vision of me waving goodbye to all that I know in search of all that I want to know. Everyone says that Fredonia is a small town, but you don't know small until you've seen where I come from. I was born and raised in a town with no more than one thousand people. I had twenty-eight peers in my graduating class ... and that was large. No matter where I go I'll never be stripped of my roots, and I will always carry a love for small towns with me, but now I'm ready for change. I'm headed to Fredonia.

Every morning I awake and rollover to silence my alarm clock. On top of my alarm clock sits a framed snapshot--my mother holding me as a baby. I have friends here in Fredonia, but it's easy to feel alone sometimes. Snapshots remind me where I come from. I am a boy who fishes with his father, a friend who dines on pizza, a boyfriend who rides the rollercoaster of relationships. The memories that were packed away in my bags for travel sprinkle my walls, my bulletin board, my mind. …

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