Final Words

Jessica A. Tompkins was born September 14, 1985 in Glendale California, to Vanessa D. Chandler and Henry M. Tompkins II. Jessica loved life, she treasured her family and friends and enjoyed being of service to others. She was known as a hard worker and dedicated to the good of her community. During her younger years she traveled to Latin America where she spent two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Upon her return she worked with several non-profit organizations including the Make a Wish Foundation and the American Red cross. Jessica leaves 2 sisters, 1 brother, her husband Michael and a son Jeremiah. Jessica will be truly missed by 3 grandchildren, a host of nieces, nephews, grand nieces/nephews, as well as, many close relatives and friends.

Sort of dry, but I imagine part of my obituary will read a little something like that. Of course I am not dead, in fact I am very much alive as I sit here and type this Blog for you to read. Writing my own obituary reminds me that life is really like a book, that it moves in a linear sequence in which there is a definite beginning and a definite end. I suppose what is really important is everything that you do in-between. Yet, I wonder if in the end the reader of my story will listen to my experiences intently and with great consideration, or will they simply skim the first few pages and disregard the text as a bunch of insignificant mumble jumble.

Sort of like the way I nearly disregarded Bessie Heads Book a “Question of Power.” At first I found the book to be like a loud annoying sound- disturbing and hard to bear. It was book about a crazy woman, a woman living in South Africa experiencing the torments of schizophrenia. And as I reader we sat dead center of her broken fragmented mind. But I stuck with it; I gave it a chance and in the end came to learn a little something that I will forever take with me.

When I finished Bessie Heads book, I found myself walking around with an inward beam, and for an entire week nothing could disrupt or shake my cheerful spirit. Through Head’s writing I found that living in a physical world without frames of reference, without mental structures to help us shape the world can be very dangerous, even detrimental to ones sanity. However through Elizabeth’s frameless mind and through the midst of her struggle to find shape and order, I learned that perhaps there is a way to transcend the strict, static frames that sometimes inhibit our personal growth and that it to simply seek a greater good which is Love. You see Love has no boundaries, it exists without color, without race, without gender, without casts - it is a frame of reference that perhaps we may all adopt to become responsible citizens of the limitless, universal floating world.

“Don’t you love everyone? Remember what you said that day we first met in the vegetable garden? You said that if the garden had a big street down the middle with lots of side-streets people could come and look around at everything. You said you thought the Vegetables would like it too. And I thought to myself: “What do we have here- fish or fowl? This is one hell of a girl. How does she know what vegetables like?” Isn’t that love, not only for people but vegetables too? (p. 188)

There is often more to us than the limited frames that we are brought into the world with. Take Jasmine for example, the main character of Bharati Mukherjee’s novel. Jasmine was born into a feudal Indian society in which she was to become nothing more than an obedient, submissive wife. It wasn’t until she came to America that she began to invent herself in new and exciting ways. In America Jasmine learned more about herself than her home land would have ever allowed. Jasmine showed us the rewards of stepping out of our comfort zones; she showed us that it can be a healthy practice to take active control of our lives and to play with new exciting identities, to truly discover the stuff we are truly made of. After reading this book, we found that life isn’t about finding yourself- it’s about taking who you are and evolving- continuously inventing yourself to your greatest and fullest potential.

“Then there is nothing I can do. Time will tell if I am a tornado, rubble-maker, arising from nowhere and disappearing into a cloud. I am out the door and in the potholed and rutted driveway, scrambling ahead of Taylor, greedy with wants and reckless from hope.” (p. 241)

This class took us on a trip in which we visited a variety of cultures, ideas, and schools of thought- all from the comfort of HOLT 170. Each week was new and exciting adventure as we scrambled to record our new found insights on the web for the world to view. Now I believe that it’s time to put this “floating world” to the test. Now it’s time to do some traveling, and to experience life as a responsible citizen of the floating world. It’s time to float between cultures and mediate between the polar opposites of home vs. exile, local vs. global, familiar vs. other, insider vs. outsider (Burton, p 10). Now is the time to contribute ordinary gestures or generosity and compassion, and to self invent. It’s time to develop the pages of my life story. And I hope that in the end the reader of my story will read my obituary with a smile having received a glint of inspiration- and learn something that they may take with them forever.