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What comes first into your mind after looking at this picture? A traditional dessert, originating in the Southern United States? A blues album? A story?
Well, actually there's a short story entitled Sweet Potato Pie. Interested in spending a little time to read this story? You can visit this link.
It goes without saying that the title of a story shows its content. It is similar to this short story by Eugenia Collier, Sweet Potato Pie. Like its title, this story definitely tells us about sweet potato pie. Sweet potato pie is a traditional side dish in the Southern United States. It is often served during the American holiday season, especially at Thanksgiving. From the definition of sweet potato pie, we’ll see that sweet potato pie is family dish. I can predict that there are some conflicts about family life in this story. Those can be the relation between parents and their children or problems from each family member.
The history of sweet potato pie goes back a long way (to the African slave trade since yams were a produce in Africa). Sweet potato pie is especially popular in African-American homes. A stereotype that it reflects poverty may be the content of this story. Therefore, I can predict that this story also contains social status problem/conflict.
I loved school with a desperate passion, which became more intense when I began to realize what a monumental struggle it was for my parents and brothers and sisters to keep me there. The cramped, dingy classroom became a battleground where I was victorious. I stayed on top of my class. With glee I out-read, out-figured, and out-spelled the country boys who mocked my poverty, calling me “the boy with eyes in the back of his head”—the “eyes” being the perpetual holes in my hand-me-down pants.
Not every poor family can send their children to school, but this is the greatest thing when a poor family still has a will to see one of their children educated as well as the others. Buddy’s older brother thinks that education will break the chain of poverty. His sacrifice to send his younger brother to school can motivate Buddy to do his best in his school in spite of the fact that he loves school with a desperate passion because he is the only poor student in his class. He feels more desperate when he realizes that it is too hard for his family to keep him in the school. They must work hard to it. But finally he realizes that he must study hard to show to his family, to his parents and Charley that their hard-work is not useless. So, he can be the best in his class. He doesn’t care about his friends who laugh at his poverty.😁
That’s true that poverty can be break by education. However, reaching a best education must follow by a high-intention. There are many barriers to reach our purpose. Everyone can easily pass it when their hearts are strong. We should go on our own way, no matter what people say.
There is a big question out of my curiosity? What did the family do to pay Buddy’s tuition pay? It is not clearly stated in the story how they get money for Buddy. In the story, Charley told Buddy to go to school because education can break poverty, but Collier doesn’t show us. It will be a question for us, what did the family do to pay Buddy’s tuition pay? The cost to study high is not cheap, but Buddy can be a college student until his graduation without any problems with the cost.
Recommendation
This story is very interesting and gives us many lessons about life. It teaches us to have more appreciation to our family. Moreover, this story depicts the crucial point that love can be shown greater than words can. Charley took the pie and did not mind being a “nobody” for his brother Buddy and followed him; it was really touching and showed caring. Therefore, it is possible for English teachers to use this story as a material, but the language should be simplified so that the students understand.
Wait, I even write a possible ending. 😁
We stopped a bit down the street from my hotel. I invited him in, but he said he had to get on with his evening run. But as I opened the door to get out, he commanded in the old familiar voice, “Buddy, you wait!”
For a moment I thought my fly was open or something. “What’s wrong?”
“What you go there?”
I was bewildered. “That? You mean this bag? That’s a piece of sweet potato pie Bea fixed for me.”
“You ain’t going through the lobby of no big hotel carrying no brown paper bag.”
“Man, you crazy! Of course I’m going—Look, Bea fixed it for me— That’s my pie—”
Charley’s eyes were miserable. “Folks in that hotel don’t go through the lobby carrying no brown paper bags. That’s country. And you can’t neither. You somebody, Buddy. You got to be right.
Now, gimme that bag.”
“I want that pie Charley. I’ve got nothing to prove to anybody—“
I couldn’t believe it. But there was no point in arguing. Foolish as it seemed to me, it was important to him.
“You got to look right, Buddy. Can’t nobody look dignified carrying a brown paper bag.”
So, finally, thinking how tasty it would have been and how seldom I got a chance to eat anything that good, I handed over my bag of sweet potato pie. If it was that important to him— I tried not to show my irritation. “Okay, man—take care now.” I slammed the door harder than I had intended, walked rapidly to the hotel, and entered the brilliant, crowded lobby.
“That Charley!” I thought. Walking slower now, I crossed the carpeted lobby toward the elevator, still thinking of my lost snack. I had to admit that of all the herd of people who jostled each other in the lobby, not one was carrying a brown paper bag. Or anything but expensive attaché cases or slick packages from exclusive shops. I suppose we all operate according to the symbols that are meaningful to us, and to Charley a brown paper bag symbolizes the humble life he thought I had left. I was somebody.
I don’t know what made me glance back, but I did. And suddenly the tears and laughter, toil and love of a lifetime burst around me like fireworks in a night sky.
For there, following a few steps behind, came Charley, proudly carrying a brown paper bag full of sweet potato pie.
I stopped for a while, waiting for Charley. It seemed that Charley was taken aback. “Why do you bring it to me? I think that you will bring it back home and I get nothing.”
Charley answered with his low voice, “I know that Bea’s is your favorite. But I won’t let you bring it with your own hands on this lobby.”
From the front door suddenly a boy ran fast until bumped Charley. Charley looked at the boy’s face. It was the boy whom he had ever picked before.
“You are…”
“I'm so sorry, Sir.” He looked at Buddy than. “Sir, do you stay here?”
“Yes, good boy. Do you remember him?” Buddy smiled, looking at Charley. “He has ever picked you up with his taxi. Remember?”
“Yes, Sir. He asked about you.” Charley smiled. He thought that the boy still remembered him.
“He is my best brother,” Buddy smiled and took the brown paper bag from Charley’s hand. The boy was shocked, so did Charley. But then Charley smiled. He huddled up Buddy.
Semarang, someday in 2012
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