It was roughly 6:30 PM.  My mom was behind the counter stirring mashed potatoes.  The sound of chicken cutlets sizzling in oil on the stove was the underlying sound throughout the house.  The microwave sounded its noise of completion and I helped my mom remove its contents and place it on the dining room table.  My Mom wanted to bring the potatoes to the table considering the danger it may have cause me.  By 6:40 PM, anything that was to be consumed was waiting on the table for my father to come home.  Sure enough, the sound of footsteps overpowered the remaining cutlets in the skillet and gradually grew louder as my father entered the kitchen.

I was sitting in my chair and my dad comes to sit at his seat at the head of the table, as usual.  My sister and my brother sat down in their seats, and at the point, I noticed my dad looked down at his hands.  I, along with his eyes, followed his notion and looked down at his hands.  They were covered in dirt and cut up from his hard day at work.  Just as he was about to get up to wash his hands, my Mom had caught on that I was looking at his hands.  It was at the point that she stated many different things in one tiny sentence: “Never come home with your hands looking like this.”

At that point, I just thought that it was time to eat, and that he needed to wash his hands before he devoured the meal.  However, I gradually realized that it was his long and hard day at work that caused him his dirty fingertips.  I never grasped that if those hands weren’t dirty, then there wouldn’t have been any food for him to sit down to.

As I grew up, my mother continued to keep this thought in my mind.  It seemed to be every night that I would find my eyes glancing towards his hands.  It got to the point where my mother no longer needed to remind me of his daily struggles that could have been avoided in the first place.

             I am in college because my parents want me to get an education.  They feel that an education is something that can never be taken away.  Neither of my parents went to college, and at that time, an education wasn’t as important or necessary to get a decent job.  They want things for me that they didn’t have the opportunity to have.  My father did his job to support my family and my mother was raised in an Italian-American household, which held that women take care of the home.  When my father would come home form work, my mother would make me look at my fathers hands – cut up and covered in dirt – and told me never to come home to my wife this way.  Nowadays, you can only get a job that makes a decent amount of money if you go to college and get a degree.  Aside from that fact, I’ve always liked school and I’ve always considered it to be a home away from home.  With out college, I can’t plan for a future.  It almost seems that life has certain steps in a guideline, and college is one of the most important ones.  Sometimes the work load can be difficult and traveling back and forth isn’t a piece of cake, but if it will get me a job that I like doing and would allow me to make a decent salary then so be it.  Back in my parent’s time, you got a job to make money.  It didn’t matter if you liked the job you did.  You did that job to provide for your family.  Now, people can choose a profession based on what they like doing.  Hopefully, I can find what I like to do and eventually make it my profession.  Without college, that would be impossible.

Work

            I think in this day and age, it is very important and necessary to start working at an early age.  I’ve had a job since I was 14 and I still have that job.  The majority of my family  said that every milestone birthday I have (e.g. 16, 18) that they couldn’t even tell me to gout and geta job, because I’ve always had one.  My Dad worked his whole life to ensure that we could live comfortably and Mom held a small job as well, just to help out.  I look down upon people who don’t feel the need to work and either use government help or live off of family or friends.  I understand in some situations that you are unable to work and that is perfectly fine, but when you are lazy, snap out of it and grow up.  Especially in this day and age where a decent salary will barely let you make it by.  It is impossible to keep up with the pace, never mind get ahead.

 

Money

            I work because I am an independent person.  I only rely on my parents for shelter and sometimes food.  I pay for all my own clothes, my phone bill, car insurance, gas, and I occasionally buy food for the house.  I feel like my parents have spent enough money on me as a child and that it’s time to grow up.  Since I’m 14, I have been eager to earn money and save it.  I usually save it and put it in CD’s to gain interest because I rarely find things that I’m willing to spend money on.  Sometimes there is the occasional pricey piece of clothing that I want, really, really want, and sometimes I tell myself no.  I feel like the more I pay for, the closer I am to being an adult and living on my own without assistance.

 

American Perspective

            I think that as much as the American people think the treatment of the Chinese workers is wrong, they really don’t care.  They feel that the Chinese lifestyle doesn’t affect them.  They have their own hardships with their jobs, why should they care about someone else in a different country that made the decision to work in that type of environment.  In China, they understand that amount of hours and work that goes into the creation of the beads whereas in America, the tradition involving the beads isn’t based on how they are made, but only the in-the-moment use of them.