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The Great Gatsby Essay, Research Paper
Henry C. Gatz
After two years I can still remember the rest of the day, and that night and the next day, as if it were a constant reminder of how a piece of my being was no longer going to live on in life. I woke up that morning in a dripping sweet after having a horrible nightmare that I had know recollection of what it was all about. I just couldn t remember any part of the dream, but I knew there was an importance in it. Eventually I just ignored it and went on with my regular morning schedule of mowing the grass, fixing up the house, and calmly sitting down for breakfast. A breakfast made up of bacon, eggs, and a tall glass of black coffee. My house was located in the eastern portion of Minnesota and was on its way to becoming a picturesque place to live in, until the happenings of this morning arose, which distracted me for the next few years I lived there.
As I sat there at the dining room table, I looked over the finely cut grass with an accomplished smile, but it soon turned when I noticed that a ferocious storm was slowly approaching. However, I just ignored it and went along eating my breakfast and reading the Chicago newspaper that I picked up the day before. I chose to read it this morning, because I didn t get home till late the night working and earning a living all day.
I picked up the newspaper and flipped to the sports section right away, because I just love sports and the cutting edge competition that each of the players shows each game. After reading up on sports I started flipping through the other sections, but then stopped suddenly as I sighted the mentioning of my son s name, Jay Gatsby, in one of the articles. As I read on my hands and my whole body began to go feeble along with my eyes widening into a distant vision of the occurrences that had arose to my realization. I soon collapsed to my knees with a helpless feeling and my eyes began to fill with a watery tension. The time passed wistfully as I reflected upon myself the transactions that had occurred in front of my eyes. The shock partially faded after a couple of hours, but all I could imagine was that only a mad man could do such a thing to such a indomitable and exceptional young man.
The rest of the day I took off work and decided to send a telegram to the town of West Egg where Jimmy had lived before being murdered. The telegram stated that I was leaving immediately and to postpone the funeral until I arrive, signed Henry C. Gatz. Then after the telegram was sent on its way, I packed up my things calmly and was on my way.
The train ride to West Egg was quite calm and soothing, and allowed me to reflect upon the situation. I reminisced about little jimmy s life and how he was a self-determined young man who would let nothing stand in his way to achieve that self-made goal. I concluded that Jimmy (Jay) did get what he aimed for in his life and that s what made me content with the dealing of his demise. He even displayed his wealth to me by buying me my house back in Minnesota, I was so exultant when I received that house. The feelings were ecstatic when I realized what kind of man he had become, and the life that he would pursue. It s just so distressing that all of it would come to an end so early in his life, which just shows how corrupt this world has become. (A single tear flows tenderly down the tanned complexion of Mr. Gatz s face).
Slowly and with the screeching of the steam engines, the train comes to a stop at the train station. I stepped off the train and began to make my way to my son s house. While walking down the street I noticed a man who reminded me of myself and how I was feeling. It was almost like looking into a mirror. He was a solemn old man, very helpless and dismayed, bundled in a long cheap ulster against the warm summer day. I stopped to say hello, but he just gave me a blank look and started sobbing uncontrollably. Confused and saddened I went on with my journey. The grass in front of Jimmy s house seemed as if it hadn t been mowed in weeks, but the mansion was still a stunning sight and it just heightened my satisfaction for his successfulness. I had arrived at the front door and gave a light tap on the door. When the door flung open my eyes leaked continuously with excitement and the man who answered the door took my bag and coat. For some reason I couldn t stop pulling incessantly on my sparse gray beard. Also by this point I was almost collapsed from exhaustion.
Mr. Gatsby, won t you sit down while I get you something to eat or drink, he said.
I ll have a glass of milk, I replied.
When he gave me the milk I spilled it all over the place because my hands were trembling so much.
I saw it all in the Chicago newspaper, I swear all of this was done by a mad man. He must have been mad in order to something like this.
Would you like some coffee? he asked.
No, I m fine Mr.
Carraway, Nick Carraway.
Where do they have Jimmy held? I want to see him one last time, I asked
He brought me into a drawing room; where upon a table in a casket laid Jimmy. I must of stood there for almost half an hour looking at the cold bloodless face of my son. A few tears started running down the side of my face uncontrollably and my hands kept trembling more and more. Finally I just decided to walk up to the casket.
I love you son, I always have. I m very proud of what you have become. You have worked hard all your life without one bit of help from me, it is because of this that I respect you. Good bye.
After saying my last words to Jimmy I left the room immediately. As I walked out my mouth was ajar, my face was flushed slightly, and my eyes were leaking with isolated punctuated tears. I guess I had reached an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise.
To calm myself down I took a walk around the house plundering about, looking at the height and splendor of the halls and the great rooms. My miserable grief soon evolved into awed pride as I viewed first hand what my son had achieved.
He had a big future ahead of himself, you know. He may have only been a young man but he had a lot of brain power here, I told Nick.
Mr. Carraway just nodded in response to my exclamation and showed me to my room where I dosed off immediately, feeling fairly content with the death of Jimmy.
The next few days I spent wondering around the house. I couldn t believe how big his house was. Everything was so extravagant and grand, I could see he had a good taste in design and wasn t afraid to spend a little money. When I went into the library I saw a book that I remembered from his childhood. It was called Hopalong Cassidy . As I was looking through the book someone walked in through the front door. I pocketed the book and scampered to the visitor. It was Mr. Carraway.
Hello, Mr. Carraway, have you seen the extravagance of this house? Can you believe how successful my son was? It s truly amazing, I exclaimed to him.
Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead, I suggested. After that my own rule is to let everything alone.
As I was saying all this I reached into my pocket and pulled out the book that I had pocketed after leaving the library. I showed it to Mr. Carraway and told him specifically to look at the back cover in the last flyleaf. On it was the word SCHEDULE, and the date September 12th, 1906.
Rise from bed 6.00 A.M.
Dumbbell exercise and wall-scaling . 6.15-6.30
Study electricity, etc . 7.15-8.15
Work . 8.30-4.30 P.M.
Baseball and sports 4.30-5.00
Practice elocution, poise and how to attain it 5.00-6.00
Study needed inventions 7.00-9.00
No wasting time at Shafters or [a name, indecipherable]
No more smokeing or chewing
Bath every other day
Read one improving book or magazine per week
Save $5.00 [crossed out] $3.00 per week
Be better to parents
This just shows you don t it. Jimmy was bound to get ahead. He strived for independence and wanted luxury and riches ever since he was a kid. He wanted to become successful and there was nothing this world that was going to stand in his way. He was always great for that.
Later that day, about five o clock our precession of three cars reached the cemetery for the funeral of Jimmy Gatz, or Jay Gatsby as many called him. I couldn t believe that hardly anyone came to the funeral, even after Gatsby had thrown all those amazing parties for hundreds of people. However, I didn t truly care whether anyone else came or not, the people who cared for him the most are here with him now.
Halfway through the procession a couple more tears fell down my eyes, but by the time it was all over and after Jimmy s body had been lowered down into the grave, I left proud of my son. I knew down in my heart that Jimmy Gatz was a great man who cared; a man wanted something out of life and achieved everything he deserved.
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