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A Simple Vignette
The khaki shorts stuck to my legs as I rose from the antique vinyl seat lined with the cracks caused by years of use. The summer had just begun and already the weather was proving to be a challenge.
Air conditioners always seemed to be working just enough to cost the small town residents a fortune but not actually cool down the sweltering buildings. It was the type of heat where just getting to sleep at night was a test in the art of tossing and turning. Getting up in the mornings meant detaching the sheets from your skin with the skill of a magician performing the most intricate show.
But of course, there was always the late by Uncle Mitch’s cabin, and despite the unending stories of the dreaded ghosts and goblins that roamed the bountiful woods surrounding the little wooden building, the watering hole was the only place in the area where someone could cool off—to a degree. I wouldn’t be spending much time at the cabin this summer though.
These long summer days would be a brutal contract to my childhood memories. Beads of sweat ran down my back ran like eclectic currents, giving me chills as I thought of even staying in that empty house; home, at least it used to be.
As I walked off the one-‐way bus from the Big Apple my eyes scanned the little town, I was instantly struck by the similarities to Disney’s Main Street—except it looked as if no mice had bothered visiting or cleaning or killing a weed since Walt himself was alive. Standing in Disney’s Main Street with people buzzing all around and children screaming for the overpriced Minnie hats and glowing, spinning sibling attacking machines, couldn’t compare to this I thought. No, this was really never, never land.
The Essence of Ben and I
Benjamin Franklin believed that through hard, honest work people could achieve prosperity since “energy and persistence conquer all things.” As a full time professional and student working towards my masters at Franklin, I have always felt connected to and inspired by this great American hero. My motivation has been fueled by my desire to continue down a path of excellence in my professional and personal life. With the utmost dignity, I find myself being persistently disciplined as I tackle the challenges that come with this chapter of my life.
As a first generation Cuban-American, I have had to work hard throughout my life to honor my family’s sacrifices through personal growth and achievement. It comes as no surprise that I feel connected to Franklin, whose principles are so similar to those with which I was raised. Just like Franklin, I come from working class roots. I grew up hearing stories about my grandfather tackling three jobs when they first immigrated, just to put food on the table. I saw my mother’s tireless efforts as she fulfilled an American dream and opened her own business. I am part of a long legacy of hard work that started long before I drew first breath.
Throughout my life, I have been a natural leader, and I have never been afraid of the challenges that come along with those tasks. Starting in high school I was an officer for three years, ending my tenure as president. In college, I held positions in my sorority, was appointed Vice President of Panhellenic Council and took on countless roles in other organization of which I was a part. Since college, I have worked with non-profits, utilizing my skills to help build them up. Every day I strive to embody the American ideal, Franklin’s ideals by working hard at building a better life for myself and those around me.
This country was founded by immigrants, shaped by influxes of people for centuries. Franklin himself was a first generation American! I have often thought that my deep rooted desire for success stems from an understanding that prosperity is not a right, it is not handed to you, at least not for most people. Rather, living a fulfilled, prosperous life is a gift given to us by the founding fathers who established the freedoms we enjoy today. In America, we are given the freedom to pursue education, the freedom to have opinions and ideals and to stand by those. The freedom to work hard at whatever task we pursue in order to build ourselves up to be the best that we can. We have the freedom to live the life that Franklin fought so hard to help institute, a life that is filled with hard work, ingenuity, community spirit and independence.
Franklin’s ideals directly shaped my very own centuries ago when his principles helped shape the very ethos of this country’s spirit. Sometimes you hear our founding fathers discussed in a negative light, and doubtlessly they were flawed men, as all men are, but they were also great men. Men who held ideals and had honor, men who created the best society they could, and it turned out to be the greatest in the world. Considering how many people continue to join the great American nation, I think many would agree with that. So, you asked the question “how do I represent the essence of Franklin?” but I think perhaps a greater question is how do I represent the essence of America? Moreover, that is a simple answer, by believing in the power of freedom and hard work.
Moscow Travel Letter
Standing in the metro as it swayed perilously under the streets of Moscow, I stared at my new friend, who had just told me the most absurd thing my capitalistic infused mind had ever heard. Having lived on Long Island for five years, Alex had come back to the motherland for good. I never will understand a lot of the things he believed in and I don’t think a lot of Americans would. Generational gaps were something I expected in talking with Russians, especially with the veterans we met, but it was something of a surprise hearing it from my peer. Having met Alex was a really wonderful, and yet, somewhat random experience. I never expected to see some of the things that he showed us. I saw more contrasts between Soviet Russia, modern Russia and my own ideas in the one-‐day I spent with him, than during the entire trip.
Sneaking us in using stranger’s student passes, Alex’s took us on an unofficial tour of the 1950’s building housing the State University of Moscow. He had an admiration for the building that I would have never expected. As he took us floor by floor he warned us about the ceiling, as pieces have a tendency to fall, but he was nonetheless blatantly in love with the Soviet building. His friend’s university was newer, he said, but this building was worth so much more to him. Chalkboards lined the front of the classrooms and as we walked to see the view of Moscow from the window, we passed past solid wood desks chipped and worn with age, but otherwise pristine. He grabbed a book sitting on the desk and laughed as he told us it wasn’t uncommon to find books laying around referring to the great USSR. When Alex talked about his university, his nostalgia for Soviet times was apparent.
After wandering the halls of the famed Seven Sisters, we walked up to the little wooden house that separated us from a Fallen Monument sculpture garden, Alex shushed us and told us not to speak English. Once inside he told us about the astronomical price differences for the tickets he had bought, a Russian students ticket was equivalent to $0.40 while the foreigner’s ticket was $3.70. Laughing at the deception and ambled along the path around the graveyard of willingly forgotten statues, we came across one particular Soviet leader. Shocked at seeing this Russian
figure in the park instead of the square where it used to rest, Alex complained about the emptiness of the space it once occupied. It was better to have something to look
at in the square he said, and besides history was history.
I had to consider what this statue must have symbolized for those that had lived through the Soviet time. Being banished from the square after the fall of communism probably meant that he had not been favored and a quick look around the park opened my eyes to the many faces of communist leaders with similar fates. Yet, Alex’s mentality was directly unaffected by communism and that lead him to a simple acceptance of the past. Assuming that the majority of Russian youth share this viewpoint, is a stark contrast to the generations who grew up during
communism, like our tour guide Olga. Olga was always ready to share her opinion of Soviet Russia and her identity was firmly rooted in her Soviet past. When asked if she could lead our tour at the World War II museum she firmly, and probably a little sarcastically replied, “Of course I can. I am Soviet.” While it is safe to say that your past is embedded in you, in your mentality and viewpoints, you may not always want to be reminded of those things that shaped you.
At the WW II museum, we had a moment to speak with two officers who kept watch over the building. Clearing their throats and carefully taking a moment to compose themselves, as good officers would Nickoli and Ivan stood one after the other to answer our question. What did they think of Stalin? I am sure to the surprise of most of the group these men who had lived and served under the Communist leader praised him without hesitation. They talked about his good, thoughtful decisions and his strong leadership. “He was a great man and he was loved,” one of them said as he asked us to not talk to them about the attacks on Stalin. They talked about the sacrifices they had made, they had done it willingly “for our families, for our motherland, for Stalin.” They were proud of their leader, who had not abandoned Moscow in its most treacherous hour, giving them the inspiration to continue and eventually win the war. Olga continued to translate but our guide’s upbringing was evident when she slyly and contemptuously added, “I’ll
tell you what I think about Stalin later…” as the men continued to praise their leader. For Olga, her family and many other Russians, Stalin was not a good part of Russian history.
The middle generations, such as Olga and Vladimir’s parents, have more hesitation about the Communist leaders abilities and influence. While Olga did not flee the motherland, she had contempt for the political leadership her family endured. While Alex, even having been exposed to American capitalism, maintain a certain respect for the Soviet way. While he seemed to understand the struggles of the past generations, he seemed to hold close to his heart a rose-‐ colored view of communist life.
Getting an opportunity to talk to people who lived through such vastly different eras of the motherland was eye opening. Being able too look at it, as an outsider, relatively unaffected by the changes this proud country endured, really gave me an opportunity to understand the different mentalities and changes that people had gone through. I can say, it did not surprise me that even after the fall of communism the ideology and effects still linger steadily in its countrymen.
I will never forget being on that Metro car staring wide-‐eyed and mouth gaped at Alex as he stood there, plain as day, recounting a story about his families need for a new apartment during Soviet Russia. “It only took fifteen years,” he said with a big grin on his face, proud of his motherland and its history. After all, to this young man, history is history.
shutter and type 