Sweet Home Alabama Analysis

As a kid going to southern Indiana for my family's weekend reunion in the middle of July seemed to be a stress-free heaven. Talking with family while eating all of the great food everyone made, and awesome fishing in the glistening pond served as a retreat from the textbooks, homework, and tests in school. Although I never did any reading, writing, or math at the reunion, I learned some of the most valuable lessons at that 50-acre property in the dog days of summer. My great uncle, who owned the pond, taught me the best fishing spots, my dad taught me how to set up a tent, and my uncle Vance taught me the great values of our family between old folk songs. It was from these stories that I developed a great sense of pride in my family.

Every Friday night before going off to our tents, all of the family gathered under the pavilion next to the pond. A group of musicians in my family strung guitars and led the family in singing accompanied by the bellow of bullfrogs in the background. After the final note of “Sweet Home Alabama” Vance put his guitar down. Vance served as a genealogist for our family and was always willing to tell a wonderful story of the bravery, adventures, and hardship that our family has endured. This story

began in the wilderness area of eastern Canada, where his great, great grandpa, Isaac lived. Vance described the cold and bitter winter Isaac suffered leading up to the War of 1812. Isaac’s lonely homestead was suddenly bustling with an invasion of troops, as Tecumseh and the British soldiers raided his property. Isaac was held captive for seventeen days, before sneaking away while the British forces were engrossed in preparation of war. Captivating the imagination of the entire family under the pavilion, Vance vividly described how Isaac’s efforts led to the defeat and death of Tecumseh at the Battle of Thames. As I looked around the pavilion, the entire family seemed mesmerized by this story. Everyone in the pavilion fell silent, I listened to the constant chant of the crickets as if they too were celebrating the bravery of Isaac. There was a sense of pride surrounding the pavilion that night, and each of us carried it away with us as we went back to our tents.
While none of the knowledge gained around that pavilion helped me pass any standardized test when I returned back to school that fall, I carry the values instilled in me by my uncle Vance and all of my family with me wherever I go.

Many of the adventures and memories around the secluded pond in southern Indiana faded away with the summer sun, but the wholesome values passed on to me are immensely more important than any formula will ever be. Through everything that my family has overcome, hardship and triumph, every summer we are able to gather under the pavilion. As we walk away on Sunday evening, we are inspired by the heroic tradition of our family, and also motivated to be as brave and courageous as the family members that came before

us.