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Memoir Case

Essay by   •  March 2, 2012  •  Case Study  •  2,701 Words (11 Pages)  •  951 Views

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Who am I? Well for starters, I am Cassy Carter, a 17 year old girl who is a senior at Queen of Peace High School. That is great and all, but who am I really? There is more to me than meets the eye. You know, the whole "don't judge a book by its cover" thing. What you see, is the tip of the iceberg. But that is not all I am. Submerged deep below "eye" level is a whole other person just waiting to meet you. What you cannot see on the surface is what makes me tick, what I am fond of, or what I consider is important to me, whether they are objects like a book, painting, or a movie, or song lyrics bouncing around in my head. Looking back at them, I can see how certain things have helped me to evolve. Now, I think it is time for me to show you by taking a trip down memory lane through the space-time continuum.

Sitting in my chair during the summer before sophomore year, I am scrolling through the list of many multiple Disney movies on Wikipedia, trying to find a movie I would want to watch. I have scrolled past plenty of princess movies and ones with names that do not ring a bell in my memory. Then one pops out at me: "The Jungle Book, October 18, 1967." The first Disney movie I have ever watched. A smile forms on my face as the lyrics to "The Bare Necessities" start to flow through my head. I jump out of my seat and rush downstairs, trying to find the movie in a box of all my old Disney movies. I haphazardly throw every video in the box around me, trying to find the one I am in need of. As the last few videos fly out of the box, I spot the colorful artwork on the video sleeve, containing the well sought after videotape. Please tell me we still have a VCR I think as I run back upstairs. I spot the TV in the kitchen, the one connected to a conjoined DVD and VCR player. Happiness washes over me as I push the videotape into the slot and the opening credits begin to roll on the TV screen. I sit at the kitchen table in pure bliss as I watch my childhood play before me. As the credits finish and I catch my first glimpse of baby Mowgli, I remember thinking he was such a cute baby, not realizing at first that it was a cartoon. The movie continues just as I remember it, reaching the point of one of my favorite scenes of the movie: the one where Baloo the bear gets hit in the nose by a monkey shortly after his performance in "The Bare Necessities." I begin to laugh hysterically, as I always have done. As the movie ends, and Mowgli goes back to his own kind, I remember why I love this movie so much. It was not just the songs and the storyline, or the fact that animals were talking, but the subliminal message that did not seem so obvious at the time when I first watched it as a baby, barely reaching my one year mark: I do not need everything in the world to be happy. Enjoy the little things in life.

The Jungle Book means a lot to me, more than it just being a fun kid's movie with animals that talked, danced, and sang. Yes, I still know the lyrics to each song, and could probably quote it nearly word for word while watching it. But it allows me to still be a kid, no matter what age I am. I'm 17, and I have the soundtrack on my iPod. The joy on my face when the first few notes of "The Bare Necessities" and "I Wanna Be Like You" play through the headphones is evident. Being the first Disney movie I have ever seen, it opened the doors to the magical world of Walt Disney. If I had not seen this movie when I did, I feel like my childhood would have been a lot different, and I might not have loved this movie as much as I do now.

"I'm just trying to be a father, raise a daughter and a son..." The first few words of Toby Keith's "American Soldier" float through the speakers on my laptop. It is junior year of high school, and I am completing a project for my AP Lit class. Shortly after finishing The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, the class was assigned a project in which we choose one of three prompts. I had chosen to make a soundtrack, and I was going through a list of songs about war and soldiers. I searched a couple and listened to them before coming upon Toby Keith's song. Sitting on my bed with my laptop, I am watching the touching music video. As I watch the video with the lyrics to the song on one side of my computer screen, I begin to understand for the first time what it must like to be a soldier. As I watch the scenes of a family be gently torn apart by the father's duty, the children's faces pull at my heartstrings. Tears begin to fall gently at first as I connect the lyrics to the heartfelt video. When the video reaches the end and I see the children's faces, the tears fall freely as the video hits home.

I have always been one to support the military. At any football, baseball, or hockey games I go to when they honor servicemen in the crowd, I am one of the first to stand up and clap. When I see a man/woman in his/her military uniform, I thank them. I think these actions come from the knowledge that a lot of my family members were in the military: my dad, my grandpa, my great uncle, my dad's cousin, and now my uncle and cousin. I was not alive when my dad, grandpa, great uncle, and my dad's cousin were in the military. However, my cousin was just recently married and assigned to a marine base in San Diego, and my uncle has been deployed multiple times and is being sent off to Afghanistan from Colorado very soon. Watching this music video and listening to the song made me realize nearly firsthand what it's like to be a soldier, and be part of the immediate family of that soldier. It is hard enough for a soldier to put his life on the line and face unknown danger for their country, but it is even harder to leave their family behind. It is rough on the family because they do not know what is going on halfway around the world. This song is important to me because it really opened my eyes to serving in the military, and how it is more than just possibly giving up one's own life, but also leaving a family behind.

Scanning my bookshelves, I am searching for a book to read to cure my boredom. Every book in that bookcase, I have read at least three times. I pick up Twilight, flipping through the pages. I toss it on my bed, deciding against it. I run my fingers along the rows of books, slowing and eventually stopping when I reach a line of books with yellow binding with the titles blocked in blue letters. I tilt my head, reading the words: The Bungalow Mystery, The Hidden Staircase, and The Secret of the Old Clock, all written by an author(s) under the pseudonym Carolyn Keene. I smile as I remember my favorite book series ever: Nancy Drew. I remember tensing up when the action and suspense increased as teenage sleuth Nancy Drew was

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