"The Dead": The Schizophrenia of Sentimentality

One passage I found very interesting is when Gabriel gives his speech before the guests. He is, of course, very sentimental about Irish traditions and the like, despite the fact that only a little while earlier he had told Miss Ivors how he was "sick of his own country." This seems to be a contradiction, but, essentially, what Gabriel does in both instances is that he fails to share the completeness of how he feels. I think I have a sense of what he feels because I feel something similar myself, and it is a very hard feeling to describe: I honestly can't stand it when people blindly pledge their whole selves to America and only America, and of course America's always right, and when they talk about the future there's never any question of whether the rest of one's life is to be lived in America. At the same time, it's not as if I truly hate this country--all of my memories, friends, etc. to this point in my life are here. But the point is that there is a whole world to see, and you shouldn't be content to see one tiny portion of it if there's nothing stopping you from seeing more. I've heard it said that the world is like a book and those who don't travel have only read one page.

This idea of a complex relationship with place definitely ties in with our discussion about "Araby"--about how you have to leave the familiar place to learn about yourself. I've found this to be very true in my life. I've gone on a few missions trips through my chuch youth group to West Virginia, and I definitely feel like my perspective on things changed a ton after I got back from the first trip--I started to care less about stupid things that used to cause my sister and I to fight a lot.

The comment that Miss Ivors makes to Gabriel along the lines of "what about learning more about your own people/country/culture?" has validity, yet at the same time is short-sided. The same question arises when considering going on a service-oriented trip: do you really have to go somewhere to serve people? The answer is no; however, the learning experience is so much greater when you see things in a way that you're not used to seeing them.

In a way, it's kind of humorous when you consider how often people appeal to the spirit of tradition to gain their audience's favor. When I was a junior in high school, I read a book called Moral Politics by cognitive psychologist George Lakoff in AP Government. It's about the various metaphors that liberals and conservatives use in shaping their worldviews. Essentially, the only metaphor that both sides share is the metaphor of Nation As Family. However, within this metaphor, conservatives are much more concerned with the Family being rooted in tradition. Liberals, meanwhile, might like the idea of tradition, but kind of wish the tradition was a little different. So both liberals and conservatives (because most worldviews kind of essentially boil down to this, though it shouldn't have to be this way) try to use tales of our "fathers" when trying to reach out to a broad audience (think of the titles of John McCain's and Barack Obama's respective books: Faith of My Fathers and Dreams From My Father). The slight humor in my eyes (some may not really find it humorous) is the obvious fact that everything about Barack Obama, his fame, and his vision, is oriented the future and not really the past. Everyone always try to connect everything to the past, which Gabriel does as well, and feebly so, in his speech. Why? Because it's easy. Because it's hard to face the complexity of one's relationship with place.