The Things They Carried passage

It's now 1990. I'm forty-three years old, which would've seemed impossible to a fourth grader, and yet when I look at photographs of myself as I was in 1956, I realize that in the important ways I haven't changed at all. I was Timmy then; now I'm Tim. But the essence remains the same. I'm not fooled by the baggy pants or the crew cut or the happy smile—I know my own eyes—and there is no doubt that the Timmy smiling at the camera is the Tim I am now. Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging. The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow. (236)


In this passage, Tim O’Brien states how the essence of an individual remains the same despite all the different stages he/she experiences in a lifetime. He describes how the Timmy he was in the past still lives in the Tim he is known as today. O’Brien acknowledges his own passing phases, “a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.” While the appearances, actions, and beliefs of O’Brien differ at these points in his life, he recognizes how all of them have an inner being that has always been present.

I agree with O’Brien on how people have an unchanging essence. There are many examples in the story to challenge this belief, such as the transformation of Marry Anne from the chapter called, “Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong” and Rat Kiley’s change from a brave medic to an overwhelmed soldier who has had enough. However, there are also examples that defend O’Brien’s position, like the love Jimmy Cross has for a girl named Martha. Cross loved her since before the war, and even after suffering from the horrors of Vietnam and Martha’s rejection for him, that love for Martha never died. But the problem with using any of these examples is the fact that O’Brien has called The Things They Carried a work of fiction, therefore the “happening-truth” in these examples may or may not have actually occurred. However, the variety of stages in my own life can serve as an example as to why O’Brien’s conviction is indeed true.

I have gone from a giddy child to a silent teen to a nonstop athlete to a faceless poet. Like anyone who has ever lived, there have been times of good and bad. I look different, I speak differently, and I no longer believe in many of the different things I used to, yet I am the same person. My memories are a web of who I was, with its intricate designs coding my existence. That web is still weaving a new pattern, even right now as I type these very words to send out for whoever wishes to see. And while the paths of silk may be completely different in length and shape and direction, in the end, it is still all the same web. As a little kid, I love to draw. As a young teenager with not much to do, I play videogames. As an obsessed athlete, I play whatever sport comes my way. As a seeking poet, I look out at the sleet and see a blurry clarity in its falling ambition. While all these identities are of the past and present, and are so different, they are all one in the essence of who I am and who I’ve always been.

“Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging.” This spirit, soul, or whatever you want to call it, is something people grow and thrive off of. It is a bud of who an individual is and who that individual will always be. Physically and mentally everyone changes, willingly or not, but that inner person in everyone is ever present. If this is not so, then why are there memories? If people could completely change, then they should be able to eliminate their past entirely. But this is impossible because even if one managed to erase his/her identity with the aid of some outside influence, there are still other people in the lives of that individual who can recall their recollection of him/her. As long as there are people to remember who a person was, then the essence of that individual is infinite.

“Why I Write” By Ishmael Beah

I write because when I hear people glorifying war, I know that they don’t know the truth. When I first came to America in 1998, I lived in New York City. At high school, my friends asked me about Sierra Leone and the war. They asked me if I actually, “saw people running around with guns and shooting each other?” “Yes, all the time,” I answered. But what really makes me feel that I need to write is their response, “Cool”. By writing, I hope that I can change those particular and naive perceptions.

I grew up in a village called Mogbwemo in Sierra Leone, Africa. Before the war, I had a very simple and remarkable childhood. I was very close to my family and had the opportunity then to just be a child. My friends and I enjoyed hip hop because the artists often times looked like us, and we were in total awe of how they could speak English so well and so quickly, while staying in beat with the music. I was very happy and innocent during these young years, but that quickly changed.
The war came to my home and destroyed villages and devastated the trust people had for one another, especially of young children. At twelve years old, my entire family was killed. Mothers ran with their shot babies on their backs without even knowing it because they were running from the rebels. Fathers held their dead sons in their arms. Men, women, and children were mercilessly murdered by the RUF and army alike. The RUF stands for Revolutionary United Front. They are a group in uprising against the government who claim they are obtaining freedom for the people, but really they just want power and are willing to go to whatever extremes are necessary to obtain that power. While the army is fighting against the RUF at this time, they too recruited child soldiers. At twelve years old, with no family or home, I was recruited as a child soldier.

I knew that I needed a home, a family, and a means to stop having to run. The army gave me a false sense of all of these things. After annihilating everything I had ever known to love including the very landscape of all my childhood memories, the army was able to easily manipulate me, along with all the other children they had recruited. They used our hate to fuel us. They brutally murdered people in front of us to desensitize us. They caused us to lose our humanity and innocence as children. Over and over again, we would watch Rambo movies; take drugs like marijuana, brown brown, and heroine in order to remove us from the very things that make us human. In a weird way, they became my surrogate family. The commanders were seen as our elders and the friends I made there were like my brothers. We were trained to ruthlessly pillage villages, burn homes, and kill as many people as we could without a second thought. This became my reality until I was taken for rehabilitation.

With utter selflessness and perseverance, the staff at the rehabilitation center was able to bring back the lost humanity in me. At first, I was so angry that I was there. The other boys and I would fight and stab the staff at the center, but they never gave up on us. Instead, they’d continue to use the phrase, “It’s not your fault.” It is thanks to them that I am alive and living the life I have now.

I write because I need to tell the world that the recruitment of child soldiers is absolutely wrong, no matter what side. Awareness is the message I need to send. There are currently twenty countries where children are being recruited as soldiers. I hope that my story can show the severity of this situation and all the devastation, disaster, and loss these children are victims of. I write because I need to tell the truth to what war really is. The common misconception of how war is romantic, glorious, and admirable for its violence needs to be shattered. Many people believe that a part of healing is to forget. I write because I will never be able to forget everything that has happened to me. Instead, I have come to learn how to live with these memories and how to transform them to help me appreciate my life. I hope that through my writing, others can too, learn to forgive because that is the only way to move forward.