Do People Really Change?

I agree with Tim O’Brien that very little changes about a person from birth to death other than superficial attributes and physical things. Much of who we are as people is formed from early childhood lessons that stick with us forever. Physical things may change. Opinions may change. Friends may change, but a person’s values and key characteristics, what defines us, do not.

As a small child, I always wanted to keep up with my older sister. My Mom told me how I used to get out of my play area to follow my sister when she would leave the room because I wanted to play with her. I was fairly stubborn and determined then, and I still am today.

My parents taught me to be honest and work hard. They used to have to make me do my homework and do chores to earn my allowance. Now, I do all my school work on own and work for things that I want. Work is my addiction. I always take on a lot of responsibilities and commitments, and it does not appear that the status quo will be changing soon.

While my situation may not provide the most credibility because I have only lived seventeen years, a look at my grandfather’s life provides a much more convincing argument. My grandfather grew up on a farm and bought it from his parents. He grew up working hard every day and was taught not to waste anything. Even in his later life, after he sold the farm and took a job in industry, he still lived fairly simply an acted the same way. There were few occasions where he would buy frivolous items or take a day off, even when he could.

Someone can change their physical appearance, find new interests or friends, or even change an opinion, but they never truly change their basic values; as O’Brien writes, “But the essence remains the same,” (236). Values and characteristics that all people gain early in life become foundations for everything life presents. These characteristics and values become twisted into so many aspects of life that that to escape them is a near-impossible feat. Values are like the footings of a building; even after the building has been torn down, the evidence of where it stood still remains.

"Why I Write" by Frank McCourt

Angela’s Ashes was a way of purging the emotions I carried inside myself for the first nineteen years of my life. The memoir was not about making money; I lived most of my life without money so it is not a necessity now. I wrote because I needed to tell other people that poverty is real. We really did live in a shack infested with fleas that would flood during the winter. When I wrote that we had nothing to eat, we really were starving. The babies really would cry because they had nothing but sugar water. We only had the clothing on our backs and broken shoes. The smell from the lavatory was real. The sickness was real, and it affected us greatly.

I write because of my sister and brothers who died due to our poverty. I did not fully understand what had happened then, but I know it hurt me inside. It was painful to watch my brother as he waited for Ollie to come home. Knowing Margaret died was worse because Mulachy and I were jealous of her. Everyone paid so much attention to Margaret; my father even stopped drinking then. It was worse after she died because then Mam got so upset and we had to move to Ireland where most of our family hated us. I needed to let those bottled emotions out.

I write because of the mistakes my father made. I love the father that would tell me stories of Cucchulain. The father that would come home drunk and singing was even tolerable at first, but after years of his habit, it was too much. He drank the baby’s money, and Mam sent me to pull him out of the pub. No father should make his son have to drag him home from the pub and then leave his family. However, when my father left I was able to work and bring home wages that he never did. Walking home with a few shillings in my pocket gave me a sense of pride that I never dreamed of experiencing and best of all, working enabled me to come back to America.

Being in America has allowed me to escape the poverty and sins I committed; now I can let everything go. I can write everything out on paper and put it aside so that I can try to move on with a different part of my life. I write so that other people will know that the suffering they hear about is real, and I hope they will be thankful for their good situations or find hope if they are suffering. Writing is a process that allows me to look back at my life and analyze what has happened to me. Through writing I can look at what happened in my past and understand it with a sense that I did not have when I was nineteen years old. I did not understand everything that happened to me in New York and Ireland, but I can reflect back on it through writing and fill in the missing pieces. Completing Angela’s Ashes was like finishing the puzzle of my life, and now I can set the puzzle aside and be at peace. I write so that I can heal.