The Shock of WWII’s Lasting Impact

After traveling to London and Paris this Spring Break, I have learned a lot of things: the London Underground is much cleaner than the New York Subway, cheese from a specific town can be named uniquely and no one else can use that name, and Netflix releases different shows abroad than they do in America.

However, none of that actually matters to the world. Those facts all have a minimal impact on the world.

World War Two mattered to the world.

World War Two still matters to the world.

I was just unaware of how much European society was changed by World War Two.

London is beautiful. Most every building is unique, and has some characteristic that makes it stand out such as a green door, an oversized hand knob, or a building that has a bigger top floor (63rd floor) than first floor. When you go to London, one notices that the city expands on and on, much like New York City. Unlike New York, London’s skyscrapers are scattered around the city and not flustered together. As a curious kid, I questioned why London would not keep all of their skyscrapers together in a little bundle of power and significance to the city. After talking to some tour guides, I learned that 1. the architects liked to have their pieces shown off and be distinct form one another and 2. that the Blitz knocked down some of the places where the buildings are now.

The Blitz, also known as the Blitzkrieg or a Luftwaffe bombing, was a period of nine months where Nazi Germany would make bombing runs across England and unload not the towns.

Just sit and think about that.

For NINE MONTHS, people lived in fear.

For NINE MONTHS, people lived in an area that might not be there the next day.

In addition to bombing the city, Hitler and the commanding officers told their pilots to avoid certain areas (Chelsea (a burrow of London)) so that they could live in those houses when they invaded England. So in Chelsea, all of the buildings and townhouses were not bombed. They are all similar in structure. There are no skyscrapers or large buildings. They all follow one of the oldest rules in European architecture: the building cannot be taller than the church of its neighborhood. So the next time you go to London, think about the change Hitler brought to the city. That the magnificent buildings stretching towards the sky are because Hitler dropped bombs on England.

In Paris the story is a little different. Hitler not only successfully invaded France, but did so as France laid on its back and prayed for mercy. French people deem themselves better than any other country’s citizens. However, they had to be saved, twice. And while we saved France, their society was completely under Hitler’s Regime. France’s architecture has a few tall buildings, but mostly the buildings are four-five stories high. It all kinda looks the same.

It is interesting that such a big impact on these two countries disposed of two very different architectures. Also when you go visit these two cities and see the historical churches/towers/buildings, remember that they have not only survived time but have survived two full fledged world wars.

My mind was blown and I hope yours will be as well if you ever research this or go see it for yourself!

Threatened but Unfazed

I was recently told that if I was not going to be moved, I was going to be thrown over a balcony railing and onto the tile pool deck below.

All I had done was move a sweater off of a seat and sit down on the stadium benches at Princeton High School’s natatorium so that I could watch Mariemont’s Women’s Swim Team compete in the Sectional swim meet. After moving the bright teal sweater nearly a foot to the side, the 40+ year old man to my left confronted me.

(This is how I recount the events some words or phrases may be changed)

“Listen here you mother——, you are to have your a– out of that seat so the lady that was sitting there has a seat. If your there by the time she gets back, your s— a– will be over that railing right there. *proceeds to point to the glass and metal railing I can blatantly see*”

This man was in his 40’s, at a swim meet that his daughter was presumably swimming at, was tensed out of his mind, had long, black, greasy hair that waved down to his nipples, and looked like someone out of trash bin. This man had no fear of the consequence of sending me flying over a railing.

No matter how scary this situation was I wasn’t fazed. I had no thought of fear flash through my mind.

How I escaped fear:

Analyzing the situation
1. This man has just asked for not only a whooping from my 20 friends and teammates behind me, but has also asked to pay for medical and school bills if I do fly like a bird. Ian Mikesell, from behind me, asked the man to calm down. As I told this story at a Five Guy’s in Princeton, my teammates told of how badly they would beat that man if he touched anyone on our swim team. And because I knew my friends had my back, I had no fear of leaving my feet.
2. We are at a swim meet which is already a traditionally tense place. Taking someone’s spot is a serious offense. However, it was my spot that the women had taken in the first place. My team had camped out 50 minutes before the meet started and watched the crowd fill in. This man and women came out of nowhere and took these seats after we sat down. If I told the truth and never threatened the guy, I had no fear of this guy sending me airborne.
Experience with anger
1. As a soccer referee, I have incurred too many curse words thrown at me from the crowd. Hearing a-bombs and s-bombs don’t impact me. Comfortable hearing these words, I had no fear of flying like a bird.
2. My friends and I casually use curse words like most other teenagers. Hearing the f-bomb from a parent was not as unnerving as a fist raising could have been (which luckily didn’t happen). I’ve been called a mf countless times. This word, like most, just bounce off of me and therefore doesn’t scare me. To be honest, I almost laughed when the words came out of his mouth because they caught me so off guard.
Being 17
1. As a minor, I am safe from a lot of the punishments that could come from being an adult and administering self-defense. Also, this man would get in a lot more trouble if he did anything to me the minor.
2. The adults around me, who are sane, natural, caring adults, recognized the situation at a HIGH SCHOOL SWIM MEET and audibly told the man that “He is just a kid” and that the man was being unnecessary.

And just like that, I had no fear.

I did however need to solve the situation so that the lady could sit on the bench. Therefore, I told my team nicely to move down and scoot together, opening enough space to have a foot between me and the women.

Although we were looking at the same scene, the man and I were looking through different windows. He saw me, the punk kid in a gold velvet jacket and shorts come in and take a spot of his. I saw him take my spot and I moved a sweater to take it back. Realizing that I could have avoided this situation if I would have just asked the man if he could move his jacket, I may try my words before assuming something in the future.

There’s Something About Shoes

SO…

Shoes are pretty cool,

But why?

Why do we as a society worship shoes?

I have become recently fascinated with how shoes have influenced my society and life throughout the 18 years I have been on this earth.

How did this fascination begin you ask!

Well, I am not a super shy kid but I do tend to walk with my head down, kinda just making sure I don’t trip and embarrass myself even more than I normally do so. And what do I notice besides the tile patterns or stains on the carpets: SHOES.

They are everywhere. Which is a good thing, more a great thing.

Shoes are a necessity. Not fancy shoes, not comfortable shoes, just some sort of footwear to protect the soles and toes of your feet from that one pebble in the middle of the sidewalk or the lego hidden in the carpet.

In our society, shoes more often than a teenage girl saying “like” fall into the category of wants. We want the swoosh or three stripes. A double G or a man flying through air. We want that fur to bring our feet warmth, and we want the leather to bring us higher in society.

Now Jackson, How do we worship shoes in our society?

We worship religion, love, and disobedience through songs. Why not make a few songs about shoes! Listen to Wing$ by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Gucci Flip Flops by Bhad Babie (don’t listen to this song for it is incredibly poor), Dirt on my Boots by Jon Pardi, or Shoe Shopping by Old Dominion.

They all are about what makes this world go round (peep the Nike commercial https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLSaPpGQHII).

A bright, sparkly, ruby red pair brought a lost Kansas girl back to her home.

Hell there is even a fantastic musical just about how shoes change lives called Kinky Boots.

Although I have never owned Jordans (I WANT to though!) or a bright red pair of boots converted into heels (not as much a want), I have owned pairs of shoes that fit in with the style I have developed at each point of my life.

Age 3-6: Light up shoes. If you didn’t have a pair of these growing up as a kid, I feels super sorry for you. 3-6 year olds knew swag when it came down to shoes even if they chose to wear three different shades of blue elsewhere. Light shoes not only brought flair, but I swear they made sound every time you stomped around. People knew who you were even you were just down the hallway. And being the talk of the classroom was alway a good thing.

Age 7-11: Nikes/Adidas/Under Armour: Style did not matter as much as speed and comfort did at this age. It was like a switch. Whoever was the most athletic (meaning the fastest) on the playground was generally the most popular at this age. With your gym shoes, you gained +5 speed and +3 agility. Even if you knew you weren’t the fastest, you knew that these shoes would get you there someday.

Age 12-14: Sperry Boat Shoes: Style was back and fast. It took my entire class about a month to phase out of gym shoes (even though they were still pretty common) and into the leather of a light brown or dark brown Sperry. By the end of 6th grade, we all dressed to impress, favoring style over comfort and speed. This carried on throughout junior high, influencing my style to the date.

Age 15-16: Vans: The epitome of style and comfort. Not only one of the best pairs of shoes that I have worn, but definitely the best representative of my style. My vans were gray with old-fashioned Mickey mouses scattered around the top. As a Disney nerd, I thought these shoes allowed me to express the culture I loved: happiness, cheer, and smiles from ear to ear.

Age 17-18: The Nike Roshe: After owning two pairs (one gray and one black) until they were either riddled with holes, completely worn down on their soles, or, in the gray ones case, sprayed with paint and covered in concrete, it is safe to say that I have found a shoe that balances comfort, style, and the athletic features I need to be able to keep up with my friends. The Roshe not only serves me loyally but boosts my confidence with each step I take. And for this, I am grateful.

Now why does this all matter Jackson?

Readers, we as a society and as humans are constantly evolving. Like our shoes, we evolve over time. It takes the trends and styles of tomorrow to change who we are today.

I encourage all of you to be leaders.

Set those trends.

Change the style.

Be the one to set a new style, don’t be the one to follow it.

(Watch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fq2CvmgoO7I to get inspired)

Shavasana Poem

Shavasana

By Jackson Comer

The studio

A haven for the peaceful

Defender from real

Keeping a losing Bengals game

A Cincinnati away

I enter

My mind ablaze

Corrupting tranquility

Shavasana makes the first move

Relaxing my tensed mind

From society

From school

With a flutter of flute

A melody to soothe

I descend deeper

Mind sifting through molasses

Turning slowly to amber

Trapping my mind in bliss

Guitars enter one a time

Filling my outstretched mind with

Familiarity and warmth

Creating no traffic

But an empty highway

Stretching at five miles per hour

Piano keys flirt with their strings

Guiding me towards a light

In a void darker than sleep

Muscles release as if

Cued by notes

Quarters free each finger

Quads liberated by half notes

Composing the body

A majors and C majors play

F and G majors twirl between

Each successive note

Rejuvenating the body

As I slowly enter the light while

Falling through another void

I fade

My mind blissful

Suppressing my ills

Music fades

Notes begin to stand still

Reality sets in

I think to myself

Yoga solves

Bengals football pain

The Jungle by Upton Sinclaire Synopsis

The Jungle Synopsis

By Jackson Comer

Novel by Upton Sinclaire

Video Form:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GL4syGW0pJ-Lto2hB3VhOKO_-juEPbdD/view?usp=sharing

Written Form:

Attempting an American Dream

The novel begins with the introduction and marriage of Jurgis Rudkus and Ona Lukoszaite in the terrible, disease-ridden stockyards of Chicago. These two Lithuanian natives, who struggle economically throughout the novel, find peace and happiness with each other. In addition to Jurgis and Ona, the reader meets Ona’s aunt, Ona’s stepmother, and a musician at the wedding. By the end of the wedding, Jurgis pledges that he will work hard enough, provide fully for the family, and Ona will never work a day in her life. Jurgis then ventures to the polluted and disgusting stockyards to find a job, noticing that people would risk their health to earn money. Jurgis soon finds a job on the killing beds of a meat making factory where he finds the process of turning, “eight to ten million live creatures into food,” sickening (34). After seeing an ad in the streets, Jurgis decides to buy a house for his family to live in; however, the real estate agent takes advantage of the family’s poor English and the monthly pay stubs become too much for Jurgis to pay. The large family finds jobs to pay for the monthly stubs. As Sinclaire goes into each job, one can see the horrific settings each character works in, whether it be next to a river of grease, feet deep in pigs’ blood, freezing in a cellar, looking at diseased meat, or smelling rancid butter. After months of working in the stockyards, Ona is forced by her boss to work as a prostitute downtown or she will lose her job. When Jurgis finds out, he fights the boss then gets sent away to jail for a month.

Abandoning the American Dream

After being released from the cozy and nourishing jail, Jurgis cannot find his family after they are evicted by the scheming real estate agent. Once he finds his family via tips from a relative, he learns that Ona is giving birth without medical help. Both Ona and the baby die, leaving Jurgis depressed. Jurgis can not find a new job after being put on the blacklist by Ona’s rapist. After meeting a social worker, Jurgis finds a job at a steel mill. Jurgis learns that his youngest son dies and flees the city. Jurgis leaves the mill on a train and goes to the countryside. After a living as a free spirit, Jurgis returns to Chicago to brave the winter. While in Chicago, Jurgis meets a rich drunk younger man who gives Jurgis dinner, a hundred dollar bill, and a cab ride home while intoxicated. Jurgis is robbed of the bill by a tavern tender who gives him change for a one dollar bill. Jurgis punches the tavern tender and gets sent to jail. While in jail, Jurgis runs into Jack Duane whom he served his time with the last time he was in jail. Duane convinces Jurgis to become his partner in crime post jail time and mug people. Switching from crime to politics, Jurgis is paid by the crime boss of Packingtown to make a politician of the other party beat their own Socialist candidate. After this successful job, Jurgis is hired at the packinghouse and becomes richer than ever as he becomes a foreman. After climbing up the ladder, Jurgis runs into Ona’s rapist once again and assaults him. Jurgis is fined three hundred dollars and must use all of his money to stay out of jail.

Turning to Socialism

Once on the street again, Jurgis soon asks around his old neighborhood, trying to find Cousin Marija. Jurgis, given the address of a prostitution house, listens to Marija who explains that she uses her wages to take care of the broken family and buy opium. Jurgis, who leaves and looks for warmth, goes into a meeting hall and listens to a women speak about socialist philosophies. Jurgis, who enjoyed the socialist theories, becomes an understudy to a party member who gives him readings and lessons. After acquiring a job at the hotel, Jurgis meets and listens the state’s biggest socialist party candidate. As socialist candidates across America gain large numbers of votes, Jurgis and the socialist party in Chicago celebrate in a meeting hall on the election night of 1904 as the book concludes.

From Prince to Peasant

Dear Readers,

I have created three narratives: “From Prince to Peasant”, “An Ode to Standing”, and “Front Stairwell”. In “From Prince to Peasant”, I discuss what it feels like when siblings show up the oldest child from the oldest child’s point of view. I used an extended metaphor and humor to get the point that “the first child loses power over time” across to you the reader. “An Ode to Standing”, although can be created as a scientific paper, was created to tell teachers and students that sitting at desks for six hours a day is a terrible way for students to learn. Students should instead stand, which improves health, attention span, and energy. “Front Stairwell” is a narrative in the form of a poem. Although poetry is not my thing, it was fun to attempt to write about one of my favorite and most historic pieces of my newly built house.

Currently, I have been more stressed out than I have ever been before. With school, swim, colleges, and attempting to maintain a social life, I have been overwhelmed. This past four day weekend, although it could have been used for sleep, was busy with college visits and college essay writing. As I look back on writing my three pieces, I can see that they transitioned from two pieces about something I’m frustrated with to a piece about serenity and stability. “From Prince to Peasant” and “An Ode to Standing” were both pieces that allowed me to take my anger and stress out on ideas I believe should change; however, “Front Stairwell” was piece written as I entered a more peaceful state of time as seen in the more positive and colorful tone.

I have selected “From Prince to Peasant” for you to read today. As I examine the paper, It has come a long way from the first idea and has developed into a decent essay. As I continue to look at peer revisions and as more people read and comment on my narrative, I believe that I can fine tune and make this narrative great.

Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

-Jackson Comer

Links to my other two narratives:

“An Ode to Standing”: https://docs.google.com/document/d/14YvdW_Nfm7n7s11nhX9mFJiV8S4AT76EJHTpOoOyFsM/edit?usp=sharing

“Front Stairwell”:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dXxwiif5fRgJ3wokhGNPpjEQrOqwqnw5gopZe5LGDJo/edit?usp=sharing

From Prince to Peasant

By Jackson Comer

I was the only one for a quality 804,960 minutes. About one and a half years of bliss I once called my own. From April 3rd, 2001 to October 13th, 2002, I was the only one my parents cared about and for, at least in my eyes. I had the whole floor, house, Little Tikes playpen to myself in the Litchfield Manor palace in the land of Virginia. I was the prince of my kingdom and my subjects in the play box waited on me and my commands. Some days Gorilla, my beastly stuffed animal, would rule beside me, others it was Binky. Then my parents made their first mistake. They had another, completely inferior, me.

October 14th was the day I began to share. Sharing, to first borns, is something we not only despise, but avoid at all costs. I had to share bottles, food, toys, television time, and my parent’s love with diaper-drooling Nick. Also don’t forget about sharing clothes because the other prince’s fragrance could clear rooms faster than me bolting from chores. And I needed to pick up the ladies at daycare. As another plus, I had my first power struggle for the throne. The joke of a little prince hid daggers and blocks up his sleeve, waiting to dethrone me. Mom and Dad saw us both as princes but I regarded him of just a peasant dressed as fake royalty.

After countless battles on my home turf, the real people with power decided to get rid of my kingdom and forced me to move to a domain in the middle of nowhere: Cincinnati, Ohio. Knowing nothing about Cincinnati made it the perfect place for my brother to begin his campaign to overthrow my rule; however, my parents had other plans. This is when they made their second mistake. They had another one, but not like me.

No. Not as inferior as the last one but definitely here to cause trouble. They had made an evil queen. The hierarchy had been flipped on its head. The youngest two taking the roles of queen and prince respectively and I was left to play the joker, the one who makes the mistakes and whom they laughed at and mocked. I was the last one to eat, to sleep, to be loved. The two of them would team up against the previous prince and send me to time-out when they thought it was convenient for them. If thy laid a hand on the queen, boom, locked away in my tower. If thy played too much video games and the prince wanted a turn, boom, chores for an hour. If thy said a bad word and either the heir or the royal highness was around, boom, a frightening amount of hot sauce was to set my mouth ablaze. If thy did not share their afternoon snack, boom, no dessert was to be given.

After many years in the new palace, I deemed the time had come to retake the throne and the kingdom. However, the king and queen decided to desert the last palace and build a new, tricked out palace in the valley below. This kingdom was tricked out for the royal family rather than I the joker. I tried one last surge for power by asking repeatedly for a bigger domain or certain changes to domains shared by myself and the elevated persons. Like normal, my requests fell short and I was left with the smallest, worst domain.

As a first child, your life seems to be unlike any other, for you rule over everything. But as I progressed through my life, I can tell that I am just a pawn in the king’s and queen’s life.