I need to work on being publically honest. So I've decided to post my response papers for my autobiography class. Because if I hope to write painful things in my autobiography, I need to get comfortable with the discomfort of having the thoughts I have, and putting them into words. If you take offense, know that it was not intended, but that maybe you shouldn't read this anymore. To the rest, thanks.
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"We hated each other. We hated each other so much that other feelings didn't get enough light. It disfigured me. When I think of Chinook I have to search for the faces of my friends, their voices, the rooms where I was made welcome. But I can always see Dwight's face and hear his voice. I hear his voice in my own when I speak to my children in anger. They hear it too, and look at me in surprise. My youngest once said, “Don't you love me anymore?" (This Boy's Life, Tobias Wolff p223)

This quote from the book reminded me of a worry that a lot of people have.
Many girls are afraid that they will eventually become their mothers. And,
not to confound quotations, but I think it was Oscar Wilde who once said that
“All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does.
That's his”. And I have had experiences when, like Tobias, I’ve heard in my
own voice, the tone and words of my mother. And like Tobias, it always happens
when I’ve let my patience run down and am at my worst. And what a particularly jarring question to ask, out of innocence and trust, to wonder whether you’ve
really become unloved. Which I suppose adds weight to the realization on Tobias’
part, that he has the ugly capability to mimic someone who despite all his anger,
controls him still.

I also understand what he’s talking about when he recounts his difficulty in
imagining his life at Chinook because of the dominating presence of Dwight in his
memory. I’ve had both the same and opposite experiences. My immediate
recollection of this past summer does not take me to London or Paris, where I
went with my Aunt for two weeks, but to the week I spent in my house, with my
mother, while my boyfriend traveled cross-country with his lesbian friend. It is
the hurting that I so desperately wish to forget that continues to seer it’s mark
onto my recollection of this past summer.

Tobias’ relationship with Dwight was scarring to him, in a way that I’ve never

experienced first hand, but even if he hadn’t mentioned all the instances when
Dwight berated him or drove him around intoxicated, or refused to send in his
credentials for Eagle, or forced him to get a job and then refused to let him
spend any of his earnings; even if all of these instances had been left out, I
still would have understood from this quote the severity of Dwight’s harmful
influence on him. There is something we can all relate to, in his discomfort at
acting like Dwight. And it raises a question that would make anyone uncomfortable;
how much do the people who raise us, influence our character?

I enjoyed this book in conjunction with his brother’s book, though I wouldn’t be
able to say more or less so. Tobias’ way of illustrating his memories and concepts
was much more appealing to me than his brother’s more calculated style of writing,
and I think I’ll try to lean more in that direction when I run into trouble writing
my own autobiography.