Just a little overview for you:
So, I posted a draft of my paper; however, it doesn’t have a concrete ending yet. Although it sounds like an ending, it is not my intended ending. Also, I’m a little worried about how much content I included from the book. I’m not sure if I included enough.
The idea is that I am talking about my past with Ramage in the 60’s, even though I am an older woman in the present day. The narrative starts out with a scene from a protest and goes from there. In doing some simple research I found that the terms “doves” and “hawks” were used to describe people during that time, and I thought that it reflected what I wanted to say about Serious and Rhetorical people, in a 1960’s kind of spin. So, there it is. Please leave me comments because this is only my third draft, (it says second draft in the title because this is only the second time the CLASS saw what I wrote, but I did have a draft in between this and the one from last class).
Thanks! Here it is:
“Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go!”
I was surrounded by hippies. People wearing tie-dye t-shirts with signs that said “make love, not war” were everywhere. There had to be at least 1,000 people on the streets of Haight and Ashbury. Their chants were loud; you couldn’t hear anyone unless they were screaming in your ear. But I was so happy to know that we were making attempts to have our voices heard, no matter how hard they tried to shut us up.
“Hell no, we won’t go!”
I thrusted my sign into the air and marched forward. A few friends of mine came to protest as well.
“Hell no, we won’t go!”
I kept walking, chanting as loud as I could on this beautiful day while thinking about my brother and his love for the sun’s warmth. It was sad to know that thousands of our brothers, fathers, and friends were dying this very moment. And just as I was swimming in sadness, I accidentally bumped into someone.
“I’m so sorry,” I shouted.
“It’s okay, are you all right?”
“Fine. It’s nice to see a fellow friend supporting the cause. I’m Penny.”
“John. John Ramage.”
When I was in my 20’s it was a real crazy time to live, you know? The war was going on, everyone was messed up on drugs, and people were coming together but also separating. Everything was political: the music, lifestyles, you name it and I guarantee you it was making a statement. It was rough, so I decided to help people. I attended some protests to have my voice heard and helped transport my friends to them as well.
After the protest, John and I decided to sit on a stoop outside the bar. He told me the news was calling Vietnam “the war between the doves and hawks.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“The world is going bonkers, Penny.”
“I know, tell me about it. I wish this war would end so I could see Daniel again. I miss him so…”
“A friend?”
“My brother.”
“Ah, I’m so sorry to hear that. Don’t worry love, he’ll return soon.”
“I hope so.”
John showed up to a couple protests every now and then to support me and my friends, which was nice, but there was something I couldn’t place when it came to him. He was a little older than my friends and I, but not by much, probably in his 30’s. He drank lots of coffee and always had a pack of cigarettes on him. But it seemed John was confused when asked about his views concerning the war and all things government. It was sorta like an Independent living in a Democrat and Republican world. We weren’t sure where he stood on each individual issue, as opposed to knowing where he stood on a whole slew of issues.
John and I were really starting to get to know each other. Although I think I started understanding myself even better when I was around him. You see, John had a tendency of explaining things in a way that was confusing to me and my friends.
“Well I can’t help but question the government, John. They’re crazy for putting us in this mess.”
I didn’t understand why he was arguing against me and my beliefs when he had shown up to the protests just like the rest of us. I was beginning to think I had to defend myself to my own friend. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and gestured me one. I took a deep breath.
“No thanks.” I was afraid of being judged for who I was: a non-smoker, an anti-war supporter, a believer in love and peace. At this point I was scared of everything I was because John made me question myself.
“Don’t worry so much, darling. I won’t judge you. I’m not that type of person.” I gave him my best smile considering he was trying to be nice, but I was still worried. “Anyway, I agree. I mean, why can’t we discuss our options? Sometimes I wonder if they have brains.”
“Who?”
“The government, Penny. And the people that aren’t like us, who aren’t doing what we are—sitting around having a civil discussion regarding our options as a country, for every person involved.”
“The hawks?”
“Yeah.”
I smiled, I was so happy that I finally understood what John was talking about. He was right, why couldn’t we discuss our options? But why did he say options? We should never have even started the war.
“I would love to be a dove, John. Flying freely, living in a world of peace and harmony.”
“You and me both. But even if we were doves, Penny, we would still live amongst hawks. They don’t go away, no matter who or what you are.”
“Why do you keep challenging me? Maybe there will be a world where we can all live in peace someday. I can believe and hope.”
“That’s true, Penny, but nothing is concrete. We haven’t reached the future yet so how can we know?”
I didn’t know. But I did know that I believed the world was going to come together in the future. I had the right to believe whatever I wanted. And again, the weird thing was that I really thought John and I had the same beliefs. He was such a good friend, always there when I needed a shoulder to cry on when I started missing Daniel’s scent or his bright personality.
I was so sick of the war and missing Daniel. My parents were supportive of the crap they were putting us through. I was angry. I protested even more throughout the latter part of the ‘60s and was increasingly passionate.
One night I called John from a payphone crying hysterically outside the bar where we first talked. I asked him to meet me right away.
“I’ll be right there.”
John showed up 10 minutes later.
“What’s wrong?” John said as I cried hysterically, sitting on the stoop to his right.
“I just don’t know who I am anymore. This war has made me into someone I don’t even know. People are dying and getting hurt. We haven’t heard from Daniel in five days.”
John sat still, letting me spill.
“Who am I?”
“You’re Penny. You’re Penny, and I’m John. We’re pretty good friends.”
John Ramage taught me lots of things throughout the ‘60s. However, the best thing I ever learned while in his presence was who I really am. I am me: Penny.
The war was tough—but we got through it. Doves and hawks still exist today, both never stopped existing. I was young and stupid when John tried warning me that I’d forever live in a world full of both types of people. He was right.
