Moodle Journal Entry #1

January 30, 2012

The Glass Castle page 3-41

            In the beginning of The Glass Castle, Jeanette Walls introduced her mother as a homeless women digging through the trash. The impression I get from the mother is that she is happy the way she is and refuses to accept help from her daughter financially because she believes that Jeanette is the one that need help with her values. The mother seems very simple and happy with her lifestyle. I think the Jeanette begins the memoirs with this memory because it really sparked an epiphany. The entire beginning of the book portrays the mother in a negative way. The mother seems callus and only interested in her paintings and I believe that she wants people to see her mother in the same light she does.

            The “skedaddle” is explained differently by both parents but probably motivated by the same reason. The father explains the skedaddle as the FBI agents and etc. are after him and that he needs to constantly move in order to keep him and his family safe. The mother explains the “skedaddle” as running away from debt collectors and money issues and the their father just like to make is sound interesting by saying FBI agents were after them.. I think it is because of debt collectors that they needed to keep on the move. Jeanette and her siblings were never really on board with the “skedaddle” but they always listened to their parents and obeyed. The siblings were influence by the “skedaddle” because they had to leave stuff behind like their cat and toys.

            The only move that I had that I could remember was switching rooms with older brother James. I never wanted to switch rooms mainly because it seemed like a lot of work and I loved my room. It had all the memories that I shared with my friends. He wouldn’t let up so eventually I said yes and switch rooms with him. As we were cleaning out our rooms I would find little toys and books that I loved as a kid. It made me remember all the great times I had in that room. Even though my room is still there I still wish I was living in there. After all it was MY room. It’s where I slept, hung out with friends, and made memories. The markings and color of the room changed entirely when my brother decided to paint it. When my brothers and I were kids out parents would measure our height on the door frame on each of our rooms. When my brother moved into my room he painted over it, although I left his marks on the door frame because I didn’t feel I should. Moving in any situation is difficult. It’s hard to leave those memories.