For Part One of the English 112 narrative project, I chose to do Option 2, the blog. This option required me to use a series of blog entries in Oskar’s voice to tell a story taking place sometime after where Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close left off. I was attracted to this option, because I wanted to do something that was unconventional and something that I would not usually do for an English paper. It seemed like an interesting approach to take. I created a new blog on WordPress that would be Oskar’s individual blog. The URL has Oskar’s name in it, but the title of the blog is “Stuff That Happened to Me”. I thought that was a perfect name that Oskar would entitle his blog, if he had one. I found that phrase in the novel and decided to use it. In each blog post, I used pictures that represent the clues Oskar finds that he scanned into his computer and put them in his blog. I felt this would connect it to the style of Foer’s novel. The blog begins at the bottom of the page with the older posts and works its way up. I found it challenging to write in Oskar’s voice, because he is an inquisitive young child who has a different thinking process and mindset than any character I have ever encountered while reading a book. I had to backspace because I was writing in my voice most of the time. But eventually, I turned into Oskar. I learned a lot about the character by writing in his own eyes and gave me personal insight into how he thinks. I tried to ask a lot of questions like Oskar did in the novel. Also, I used a lot of random French phrases in the blog posts, because I remember that Oskar was described as a Francophile and did use various French remarks. This is what I enjoyed most about this assignment. I was able to be the character for a short period of time, take on another role. I never had the opportunity to do this in anything that I had to do for school. It was the most enjoyable, yet challenging assignment I have had to write for an English class. It let me dig into my creativity. I was actually able to take on a dual role, other than being Oskar, I was the author of the novel as well. I decided to take the Beatles song, Penny Lane, as the main connector for the blog posts. In the story, Oskar and his father were frequently described as Beatles enthusiasts, and so am I. This is also what made it enjoyable for me to write, because it was something that interests me and something I know a lot about. I wanted to give a happy ending because I was dissatisfied with the ending that Foer provided in the novel. I thought that the novel led up to more than the conclusion given. Although, I do agree that it was the most realistic approach. Other than a different type of ending, I did stick to the story line of Oskar finding closure in his father’s death that Foer promoted in his novel. I did not change much after the first draft. I read over and proofread the posts. The comments I got from my revision group were all positive and there were no major structural problems with my project.
All Things Must Pass Tuesday, Jun 17 2003
Uncategorized 10:08 pm
I did it. I solved Dad’s final expedition. I feel very proud of myself. Sometime’s I wish that the clues were never-ending so that I can learn something new about my father every time I uncover one. I could escape to all places that my father once knew and that would make me feel home. If the clues were never-ending then eventually I could pass them down to my children and so on. It would be a Schell Expedition. What if my Dad were still alive? I think of this a lot. It used to give me heavy boots, but not so much anymore. The Beatles are right when they said “All Things Must Pass”. Grief can’t takeover your life. Grandma did not let it. I have come to accept it too. C’est la vie! Mom is calling me right now asking what she should make for dinner because Ron is coming over. I have to go be on my best behavior. But Adieu!
In Penny Lane There is a Barber Showing Photographs Monday, Jun 16 2003
Uncategorized 5:59 pm
“In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he’s had the pleasure to have known,
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello.”
Last night when I came back from my trip to the Bronx, my mom interrogated me where I had been. I told her that I was with Grandma all day visiting her friend. (Lie #1). She asked then why Grandma didn’t bring me back. I said because Grandma wanted to spend more time with her, but I was bored and took the subway back. (Lie #2). She asked what I’m doing tomorrow. I told her I was trying out for the local theatre’s production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (Lie #3).
Today I took the subway to Queens. I stopped into the nearest place where I could ask for directions. I went to McDonalds and asked where Mac’s Barbershop was located. The man behind the counter said it’s on Hillside Avenue right next to the old jazz club and the new 99 cents store. I thanked him and went on my way. Queens was an old town with a lot of history. Dad used to say that jazz greats like Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie got their start here. I finally got to the barbershop. I looked inside from the widows and it looked like nothing had been changed since 1920. Inside, photographs lined the walls of people who used to come to the shop. Two older men were getting their face shaved the old way on the side. I saw an even older man sitting behind the counter fiddling with an old record player. I approached him and asked him if he knew anything about my Dad, Thomas Schell. He looked up in shock and blinked a couple times before saying anything. Still not saying anything, he pointed to one of the photographs on the wall with his shaky hand.
SACREBLEU! It was a picture, obviously from a long time ago, with the old man (not so old then) and my Dad when he was my age. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Dad really knew what he was doing in this journey he sent me on. I asked the man if I could see it and if he could tell me why he has it in the first place. He started the story of how he was and still is the neighborhood barbershop. He used to get famous people come in as well as locals. He said that he used to be my Dad’s barber back when he was about my age. I asked him why he put my Dad’s picture up on the wall. He said my Dad was one of his favorite customers. He was an inquisitive young boy who thought and talked way too old for his age. Sounds familiar I thought to myself. He told me more about my father as a boy and how a few weeks before the worst day ever, he came to tell him about the expedition that he had planned for his son. That would be me. I was thrilled at what I was hearing. I thought I knew everything about my Dad, but I guess I didn’t. I took the photograph out of its frame and on the back was a letter addressed to me.
It was from my Dad. A part of me did not want to read it in front of everyone, just in case I show any emotions. But, I started to read it anyways because I couldn’t resist this excitement. I was so proud of myself for figuring this out. I realized that the previous quest of mine prepared me for this one. Dad said in the letter that he is proud of me in everything that I do and said that I am so much like him when he was my age. It was a long letter. I told the barber about my entire journey and he told me that he has something for me. He went to the back room and brought another photograph in a more expensive frame. He showed it to me. I laughed to myself. It was a picture of the barber again with the four Beatles and their signatures. He said, “Who do you think gave them their famous haircuts?” We both laughed. I asked him if he could cut my hair, like he did my Dad’s when he was little.
I looked in the mirror after the cut, and I looked like the boy in the photograph. My Dad, of course, not Ringo, Paul, John, or George. I thanked the barber. He asked why my father didn’t come with me. I guess he did not know that my Dad died. I was the bearer of bad news and told him, “My Dad died in the World Trade Center on September 11th.” I was finally ok with saying it. I didn’t have to cover it up like I usually do. He got incredibly heavy boots and paid his respects. I left and told him that I will see him again when my hair grows out.
CLUE 3: PHOTOGRAPH
He Likes to Keep His Fire Engine Clean Sunday, Jun 15 2003
Uncategorized 9:18 pm
“In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It’s a clean machine.”
Grandma came over last night for a cup of coffee. That was her excuse to come and see how things are going. She told us that she was going to the Bronx tomorrow to meet an old friend. I soon became very interested in what she had to say because I was going to the Bronx tomorrow. Later, I asked her if I could join her, she agreed. This morning we took the subway over to the Bronx. Along the way, I informed Grandma of my new expedition. She seemed very pleased and asked if I needed help. I said no thank you because Dad wanted me to do it by myself. Grandma is the second person I love the most, under Dad of course. We parted ways at the stop.
The first Penny Lane that I went to intersected Washington street. I checked the lyrics again to see what I have to look out for. Key phrases were banker, fireman, barber and nurse. The only thing that these items had in common were that they are all occupations. I walked east down Penny Lane with my special field kit. It had things like a Magnum flashlight, ChapStick, some vegan snacks, the song lyrics, topographical map of New York, my cell phone, my white gloves, and iodine pills in case of a dirty bomb. Soon I found a Bank of America on the corner. I went inside and asked the teller if she knew a Thomas Schell point blank. I was used to asking this and learned quickly not to get disappointed if you do not hear the answer you want. She said she never heard of anyone by that name. Quell Dommage. I did not inquire further and set out to find a fireman, barber, or a nurse. I walked 10 blocks down Penny Lane and to my left stood a firehouse. There were two fire trucks parked, a Dalmatian running in the front lawn, and two off duty firemen standing taking outside. What if firemen had a detector on their uniform that could detect all the people who are stuck in a fire? This would make their job easier and no one would die from being unfound. This would have helped a lot on the worst day ever. More people could have been saved.
I went up to the firemen and introduced myself. Their names were Jim and Mitchell. I asked them the same question that I asked the teller. They gave me the same answer. I did not believe them. I told them that my Dad died in the World Trade Center. They looked at me different when I said that. Everyone looks at me different when say how Dad died. They feel more pity for me because I lost my Dad in such a horrible way. They said that they were one of the ladders called to help out on that sad day. I got heavy boots. I thought about Dad and how no one was able to help him. They asked me to come inside because they were having a barbeque soon and wanted me to join them. I told them I was vegan. They laughed. I asked them why they did not believe me. They did not think a child like myself would take on such a way of life. I told them that I act rarely act my age.
Five other firemen were inside. I asked them if any of them knew my Dad. Everyone shook their heads no, except one. One looked me straight in the eyes and nodded. He told me to follow him and we went upstairs. He introduced himself as Frank O’Donnell. He told me the story of how three weeks before the worst day, my Dad came to the firehouse to ask one of the firefighters a favor. He told them that he is planning an expedition for his son and he needed to hide a clue here. He said that my Dad was a wonderful man. He then showed me the box that my Dad gave him to give to me. I was excited, finally I was accomplishing something. I opened the box and there was a New York Times newspaper in it. I quickly flipped through it looking for more red marks. I found random words and phrases marked. (page 3) Historic Mac’s Barbershop in Queens……………………(page 4) ….photographs……..(page 7)….good luck. I was filled with excitement. I put the newspaper in my field kit. I thanked Frank and decided to go tomorrow to Queens to set out on my next journey. Au Revoir!
CLUE 2: NEW YORK TIMES
It’s a Clean Machine Saturday, Jun 14 2003
Uncategorized 12:10 pm
“In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It’s a clean machine.”
Grandma came over last night for a cup of coffee. That was her excuse to come and see how things are going. Grandma left New York earlier this year, but is here visiting for a few weeks. She told us that she was going to the Bronx tomorrow to meet an old friend. I soon became very interested in what she had to say because I was going to the Bronx tomorrow. Later, I asked her if I could join her, she agreed. This morning we took the subway over to the Bronx. Subways worry me. Along the way, I tried to distract myself from the fear of being in a trapped subway underground. I informed Grandma of my new expedition. She seemed very pleased and asked if I needed help. I said no thank you because Dad wanted me to do it by myself. Grandma is the second person I love the most, under Dad of course. We parted ways at the stop.
The first Penny Lane that I went to intersected Washington Street. I checked the lyrics again to see what I have to look out for. Key phrases were banker, fireman, barber and nurse. The only thing that these items had in common was that they are all occupations. I walked east down Penny Lane with my special field kit. It had things like a Magnum flashlight, ChapStick, some vegan snacks, the song lyrics, topographical map of New York, my cell phone, my white gloves, and iodine pills in case of a dirty bomb. Soon I found a Bank of America on the corner. I went inside and asked the teller if she knew a Thomas Schell point blank. I was used to asking this and learned quickly not to get disappointed if you do not hear the answer you want. She said she never heard of anyone by that name. Quell Dommage. I did not inquire further and set out to find a fireman, barber, or a nurse. I walked 10 blocks down Penny Lane and to my left stood a firehouse. There were two fire trucks parked, a Dalmatian running in the front lawn, and two off duty firemen standing taking outside. What if firemen had a detector on their uniform that could detect all the people who are stuck in a fire? This would make their job easier and no one would die from being unfound. This would have helped a lot on the worst day ever. More people could have been saved.
I went up to the firemen and introduced myself. Their names were Jim and Mitchell. I asked them the same question that I asked the teller. They gave me the same answer. I didn’t believe them. I told them that my Dad died in the World Trade Center. They looked at me different when I said that. Everyone looks at me different when say how Dad died. They feel more pity for me because I lost my Dad in such a horrible way. They said that they were one of the ladders called to help out on that sad day. I got heavy boots. I thought about Dad and how no one was able to help him. They asked me to come inside because they were having a barbeque soon and wanted me to join them. I told them I was vegan. They laughed. I asked them why they did not believe me. They did not think a child like myself would take on such a way of life. I told them that I act rarely act my age.
Five other firemen were inside. I asked them if any of them knew my Dad. Everyone shook their heads no, except one. One looked me straight in the eyes and nodded. He told me to follow him and we went upstairs. He introduced himself as Frank O’Donnell. He told me the story of how three weeks before the worst day, my Dad came to the firehouse to ask one of the firefighters a favor. He told them that he is planning an expedition for his son and he needed to hide a clue here. He said that my Dad was a wonderful man. He then showed me the box that my Dad gave him to give to me. I was excited, finally I was accomplishing something. I opened the box and there was a New York Times newspaper in it. I quickly flipped through it looking for more red marks. I found random words and phrases marked. (page 3) Historic Mac’s Barbershop in Queens……………………(page 4) ….photographs……..(page 7)….good luck. I was filled with excitement. I put the newspaper in my field kit. I thanked Frank and decided to go tomorrow to Queens to set out on my next journey. Au Revoir!
CLUE 1: BEATLES ALBUM COVER
My Quest Friday, Jun 13 2003
Uncategorized 9:50 am
What about a key? What if a key opened anything that you wanted? I wanted that key that I found in my Dad’s closet to be a clue that Dad left me in our last game of Reconnaissance Expedition. He died before I solved the last riddle. Dad died on the worst day ever. What if that key from my Dad’s closet opened something extraordinary? But, it didn’t. I went to find someone with the name Black through the five Boroughs of New York. Dad used to tell me once upon a time there were six Boroughs in New York. I do no know if I believe him, but he was a smart man. I wanted to find someone who would have an idea about my Dad’s key. It turned out to be a key for a safety deposit box of some other man. That gave me heavy, heavy boots.
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