Border Book Summary In this HW you have to read the story FIRST and then write a page about it, it will inclouds, First Paragraph – Summary about Thomas K

Border Book Summary In this HW you have to read the story FIRST and then write a page about it, it will inclouds,

First Paragraph – Summary about Thomas King’s story “Border” (characters,plot, and overview of the story) ( NOT SHORT )

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Border Book Summary In this HW you have to read the story FIRST and then write a page about it, it will inclouds, First Paragraph – Summary about Thomas K
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second Paragraph – Analysis. ( Your general understanding of the author meaning: The purpose for writing)

you have to use quotations. Bricklayer’s Son: The Birth and Clash of Values
Shorean
Working-class people mistrust eggheads, relying more on intuition,
conmon sense, and luck. The middle class is more analytical. depend-
ing on cultivated, logical thinking.
In a social setting, the working class may be more apt to show emo-
tion than the middle class. The working class may be tougher, flashier,
and louder:
Working-class people are overawed by doctors and lawyers. The
middle class knows how to talk to such folks and realizes they are just
as fallible and corrupt as the rest of us.
The middle class is burdened with the pressure to outachieve high-
achieving parents. Many working-class families are happy if their kids
get and keep a job and avoid being seen on America’s Most Wanted.
The working class will bowl: the middle class will play racquetball.
At Columbia, where physical education was a requirement for gradua-
tion. they taught us squash and racquetball, trying to tutor future
lawyers and leaders on the finer points of business leisure. I played it
like a neighborhood kid. diving into the walls and feeling a sense of
accomplishment when I nearly separated my shoulder. I was never that
good, because I played too blue-collar, 100 straight-ahead, and never
studied the angles and the corner shots. It was nothing like the stickball,
stoopball
, and handball we played in Brooklyn. In summer softball
games. I used to think I could play center field because our cement
parks were so small. Then I moved to Ohio and played in lovely subur-
ban fields, watching ball after bull get by me. I couldn’t cover the vast
territory, green and endless. I switched to first base,
The working class has traditionally expressed u my-country-right-
or-wrong patriotic atitude. while the middle class often has questioned
government. Jensen says. The obvious example is the Vietnam War eru,
when working-class kids died in jungles, and middle-class kids pro-
tested on campuses.
There’s a greater depth of acquiescence among working class peo-
ple, who tend to feel more powerless: You can’t fight city hall. The mid-
dle class says you can, and there’s more of a constant striving toward
self-bood and becoming something else. The working-class man or
woman says, “I am what I am. The middle-class person says, “I have
to do this (graduate from college, go to business school, pass the bar] to
become who I am.”
1
Bricklayer’s Son: The Birth and Clash of Values
the neighborhood.) I knew a young woman whose boyfriend gave her
whitewalls for her eighteenth birthday, and she squealed as if they were
opals. I got my first car when I was 23 and drove it to Ohio to work at
my first white-collar job. It broke down often, but I had no inclination
to figure out what was wrong and fix it. Somehow, growing up, I was
bere?t of any curiosity about how things worked how drywall was put
up or how pipes connected the very real working-class stuff that pre-
occupied the lives of most of the people around me. I just didn’t care. I
read books. That came from my mother, a latchkey child who was never
allowed to grow intellectually. She nevertheless became a book-a-week
reader and had determined that her sons would follow suit, then
advance to the higher education that had been denied her.
My mother was bucking a trend; many working-class people in the
1970s saw little need for college. The guys were encouraged to make
money in construction and similar tough fields, while the women were
expected to find men and breed. As a result, working-class kids from all
ethnic backgrounds reproduce their parents’ class standing with an
eerie Xeroxity-often more rags-to-rags than rags-to-riches, working-
class studies guru Jake Ryan says.
Navigating Social Relationthing
Straddlers remember how complicated life in the old neighborhood
could get after they realized they weren’t really part of the crowd. Their
inability to fully fit in made them uncomfortable and rendered them
quasi-outcasts.
Back in the day, I couldn’t compete for the attention of girls as long
as there were dark-haired high school dropouts with steady jobs prowl-
ing the neighborhood in cool cars. These guys had pocket money to
bestow Marlboros and birthday jewelry; they weren’t locked away
studying, and they had time to focus on showing girls a good time. In
Bensonhurst, I’d be at a bus stop after school, trying to get close to a
girl, reaching for whatever charm my heritage would provide. Just when
I’d be making progress, one of my fellow cugines (cousins) would show
up in his new white Cadillae with red-leather interior and a horu that
played the first 12 notes to the theme song from The Godfather “Yo,
Marie, want a ride?” he’d call out, and away my dark-haired lovely
13
father was more resourceful than Mr. Brady. He was provider and pro-
tector, concerned only with the basics: food and home, love, and prog-
eny. He’s also a generation closer to the heritage, a warmer spot nearer
the fire that forged and defined us. Does heat dissipate and light fade
farther from the source?
Blue-Collaz Valued
I idealized my dad as a kind of dawn-rising priest of labor, engaged in
holy ritual. Up at five every morning, my father made a religion of
responsibility. My brother Christopher, who has two degrees from
Columbia and is now an executive with the blue-collar sense to make a
great white-collar salary, says he always felt safe when he heard Dad stir
before him, “as if Pop were taming the day for us.” As he aged, my
father was expected to put out as if he were decades younger, slipping
on machine-washable vestments of khaki cotton without waking my
mother. He’d go into the kitchen and turn on the radio to catch the tem-
perature. Bricklayers have an occupational need to know the weather.
And because I am my father’s son, I can still recite the five-day forecast
at any given moment.
My dad wasn’t crazy about the bricklayer’s life. He had wanted to
be a singer and an actor when he was young, but that was frivolous doo-
dling to his immigrant father, who expected money to be coming in,
stoking the stove that kept the hearth fires ablaze. Dreams simply were
not energy-efficient. After combat duty in Korea, my dad returned
home, learned his father-in-law’s trade, and acquiesced to a life of
backbreaking routine. He says he can’t find the black-and-white pub-
licity glossies he once had made. So many limbo folk witnessed the
shelving of their blue-collar parents’ dreams. Most, like my dad, made
the best of it, although a few disappointed people would grow to resent
their own children’s chances, some Straddlers say.
As kids, Chris and I joked about our father’s would-be singing
career, wondering where we all would have been had le become rich
and famous. His name is Vincent, but everyone calls him Jimmy. So my
brother and I dubbed him “Jimmy Vincent,” or “Jimmy V. From Across
the Sea,” a Jerry Vale type with sharper looks and a better set of pipes.
As a young man, my father was tall and slender, with large brown eyes
16
their asses for everything they’ve got. They came equipped with helium
balloons to raise them to a higher stratosphere where things just come
10 you.
“But if you want a dirty job done, give it to me. I will do the hard
job. I’ll move 50 pieces of furniture up the stairs, take rocks out of the
garden. I will push until the job’s done or until I fall over. I don’t under-
stand letting others do things for you, or spending your social currency
to get favors. I have a scorn for that.”
The heritage of struggle, as writer and working-class academic
Janet Zandy puts it, develops a built-in collectivity in the working class,
a sense of people helping each other-you’re not going it alone, and you
have buddies to watch your back. It’s different in the middle class,
Zandy and others argue, where the emphasis is on individual achieve-
ment and personal ambition. The middle class, my Straddlers would
say, rarely had to pay working-class-type dues and were most likely
unaware of the help they got—the cultural capital—to ensure their
sinecures in life and business.
If
you
could get through college without having to work at some
outside job or take out loans, for example, that says you did not know
privation, and that, in turn, says something about you and your class. If
your parents gave you the down payment on your house (Straddlers
often hate hearing this one), that tells us something about you as well.
Straddlers tend to see the family dynamic as struggle, and they learn to
accept it. You never expect things to be
you
don’t whine when
they’re not. Nothing is promised, so nothing is expected. “My father’s
goal for me,” says Los Angeles Straddler Jeffrey Orridge, a Mattel exec-
utive, “was to be able to eat. Not to drive a Mercedes. Just to eat.” The
working class is told that anything you get you earu by hard work. “Our
lamily was pain and anguish.” says Sacramento Straddler Andrea
Todd, a freelance magazine writer and editor. “I saw my dada fire-
fighter-sacrifice his well-being to put food on the table. The middle-
class girls I knew didn’t see that didn’t know that.”
While middle-class kids are allowed some say and voice in their
upbringing (“David, would you prefer going to Crandma’s or to the
park?”), working-class kids develop within a strict, authoritarian world
(“David, if you don’t come with me to Grandma’s right now I’ll slap
your teeth out!”) Experts say that children raised in authoritarian
easy, and
??
19
LIMBO
Why?
youres
How do
3
f
spoken in a blue-collar home (especially the talk between parents and
kids), says pioneering working-class studies economist Charles Sackrey,
formerly of Bucknell University.
Blue-collar kids are taught by their parents and communities to
work hard to achieve, and that merit is rewarded. But no blue-collar
parent knows whether such things are true in the middle-class world.
Many professionals born to the working class report feeling out of place
and outmaneuvered in the office. Soon enough, Straddlers learn that
straight talk won’t always cut it in shirt-and-tie America, where people
rarely say what they mean. Resolving conflicts head-on and speaking
your mind don’t always work, no matter how educated the Straddler is.
In the working class, people perform jobs in which they are closely
supervised and are required to follow orders and instructions. That in
turn affects how they socialize their children, social scientists tell us.
Children of the working class are brought up in a home in which confor-
mity, obedience, and intolerance for back talk are the norm—the same
characteristics that make for a good factory worker. As Massachusetts
Straddler Nancy Dean says, “We’re raised to do what our mother says,
what the teacher says, what the boss says. Just keep your mouth shut, No
one cares what you have to say: Don’t ask, don’t question, do what
you’re told. Our mothers were all versions of Mrs. This Is My House.”
People moving from the working class to the middle class need a
strategy, a way to figure out the rules, the food, the language, and the
music, “It’s a new neighborhood,” Sackrey says, “and it has the danger
of a new neighborhood. It’s unfriendly territory. Upper-class people do
look down on us. So in your strategy for living, you have to figure out
how to make it from one day to the next. It’s an endless trek. You can fit
in; you can decide to overwhelm and be better than them; you can live
in the middle class but refuse to assimilate; or you can stand aside and
criticize, and never be part of things.
“But central to the whole thing is language. If you don’t talk like
them, they won’t give you the time of day.”
U
B
la
re
re
SE
le
di
AL
W
lat
in
ele
The Uneven Race
Americans have always embraced the notion that this is a land of
opportunity, with rags-to-riches possibilities. It’s true that there are
01]
??
10
Bricklayer’s Son: The Birth and Clash of Values
Shorean
Working-class people mistrust eggheads, relying more on intuition,
conmon sense, and luck. The middle class is more analytical. depend-
ing on cultivated, logical thinking.
In a social setting, the working class may be more apt to show emo-
tion than the middle class. The working class may be tougher, flashier,
and louder:
Working-class people are overawed by doctors and lawyers. The
middle class knows how to talk to such folks and realizes they are just
as fallible and corrupt as the rest of us.
The middle class is burdened with the pressure to outachieve high-
achieving parents. Many working-class families are happy if their kids
get and keep a job and avoid being seen on America’s Most Wanted.
The working class will bowl: the middle class will play racquetball.
At Columbia, where physical education was a requirement for gradua-
tion. they taught us squash and racquetball, trying to tutor future
lawyers and leaders on the finer points of business leisure. I played it
like a neighborhood kid. diving into the walls and feeling a sense of
accomplishment when I nearly separated my shoulder. I was never that
good, because I played too blue-collar, 100 straight-ahead, and never
studied the angles and the corner shots. It was nothing like the stickball,
stoopball
, and handball we played in Brooklyn. In summer softball
games. I used to think I could play center field because our cement
parks were so small. Then I moved to Ohio and played in lovely subur-
ban fields, watching ball after bull get by me. I couldn’t cover the vast
territory, green and endless. I switched to first base,
The working class has traditionally expressed u my-country-right-
or-wrong patriotic atitude. while the middle class often has questioned
government. Jensen says. The obvious example is the Vietnam War eru,
when working-class kids died in jungles, and middle-class kids pro-
tested on campuses.
There’s a greater depth of acquiescence among working class peo-
ple, who tend to feel more powerless: You can’t fight city hall. The mid-
dle class says you can, and there’s more of a constant striving toward
self-bood and becoming something else. The working-class man or
woman says, “I am what I am. The middle-class person says, “I have
to do this (graduate from college, go to business school, pass the bar] to
become who I am.”
1
Bricklayer’s Son: The Birth and Clash of Values
the neighborhood.) I knew a young woman whose boyfriend gave her
whitewalls for her eighteenth birthday, and she squealed as if they were
opals. I got my first car when I was 23 and drove it to Ohio to work at
my first white-collar job. It broke down often, but I had no inclination
to figure out what was wrong and fix it. Somehow, growing up, I was
bere?t of any curiosity about how things worked how drywall was put
up or how pipes connected the very real working-class stuff that pre-
occupied the lives of most of the people around me. I just didn’t care. I
read books. That came from my mother, a latchkey child who was never
allowed to grow intellectually. She nevertheless became a book-a-week
reader and had determined that her sons would follow suit, then
advance to the higher education that had been denied her.
My mother was bucking a trend; many working-class people in the
1970s saw little need for college. The guys were encouraged to make
money in construction and similar tough fields, while the women were
expected to find men and breed. As a result, working-class kids from all
ethnic backgrounds reproduce their parents’ class standing with an
eerie Xeroxity-often more rags-to-rags than rags-to-riches, working-
class studies guru Jake Ryan says.
Navigating Social Relationthing
Straddlers remember how complicated life in the old neighborhood
could get after they realized they weren’t really part of the crowd. Their
inability to fully fit in made them uncomfortable and rendered them
quasi-outcasts.
Back in the day, I couldn’t compete for the attention of girls as long
as there were dark-haired high school dropouts with steady jobs prowl-
ing the neighborhood in cool cars. These guys had pocket money to
bestow Marlboros and birthday jewelry; they weren’t locked away
studying, and they had time to focus on showing girls a good time. In
Bensonhurst, I’d be at a bus stop after school, trying to get close to a
girl, reaching for whatever charm my heritage would provide. Just when
I’d be making progress, one of my fellow cugines (cousins) would show
up in his new white Cadillae with red-leather interior and a horu that
played the first 12 notes to the theme song from The Godfather “Yo,
Marie, want a ride?” he’d call out, and away my dark-haired lovely
13
father was more resourceful than Mr. Brady. He was provider and pro-
tector, concerned only with the basics: food and home, love, and prog-
eny. He’s also a generation closer to the heritage, a warmer spot nearer
the fire that forged and defined us. Does heat dissipate and light fade
farther from the source?
Blue-Collaz Valued
I idealized my dad as a kind of dawn-rising priest of labor, engaged in
holy ritual. Up at five every morning, my father made a religion of
responsibility. My brother Christopher, who has two degrees from
Columbia and is now an executive with the blue-collar sense to make a
great white-collar salary, says he always felt safe when he heard Dad stir
before him, “as if Pop were taming the day for us.” As he aged, my
father was expected to put out as if he were decades younger, slipping
on machine-washable vestments of khaki cotton without waking my
mother. He’d go into the kitchen and turn on the radio to catch the tem-
perature. Bricklayers have an occupational need to know the weather.
And because I am my father’s son, I can still recite the five-day forecast
at any given moment.
My dad wasn’t crazy about the bricklayer’s life. He had wanted to
be a singer and an actor when he was young, but that was frivolous doo-
dling to his immigrant father, who expected money to be coming in,
stoking the stove that kept the hearth fires ablaze. Dreams simply were
not energy-efficient. After combat duty in Korea, my dad returned
home, learned his father-in-law’s trade, and acquiesced to a life of
backbreaking routine. He says he can’t find the black-and-white pub-
licity glossies he once had made. So many limbo folk witnessed the
shelving of their blue-collar parents’ dreams. Most, like my dad, made
the best of it, although a few disappointed people would grow to resent
their own children’s chances, some Straddlers say.
As kids, Chris and I joked about our father’s would-be singing
career, wondering where we all would have been had le become rich
and famous. His name is Vincent, but everyone calls him Jimmy. So my
brother and I dubbed him “Jimmy Vincent,” or “Jimmy V. From Across
the Sea,” a Jerry Vale type with sharper looks and a better set of pipes.
As a young man, my father was tall and slender, with large brown eyes
16
their asses for everything they’ve got. They came equipped with helium
balloons to raise them to a higher stratosphere where things just come
10 you.
“But if you want a dirty job done, give it to me. I will do the hard
job. I’ll move 50 pieces of furniture up the stairs, take rocks out of the
garden. I will push until the job’s done or until I fall over. I don’t under-
stand letting others do things for you, or spending your social currency
to get favors. I have a scorn for that.”
The heritage of struggle, as writer and working-class academic
Janet Zandy puts it, develops a built-in collectivity in the working class,
a sense of people helping each other-you’re not going it alone, and you
have buddies to watch your back. It’s different in the middle class,
Zandy and others argue, where the emphasis is on individual achieve-
ment and personal ambition. The middle class, my Straddlers would
say, rarely had to pay working-class-type dues and were most likely
unaware of the help they got—the cultural capital—to ensure their
sinecures in life and business.
If
you
could get through college without having to work …
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