A Memory

I have read the poem My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke twice this year.  The first time I encountered the poem was in Intro to Literature in the fall semester.  At the time, I wasn't sure what I thought about the poem.  I immediately came to the conclusion that the father of the narrator was a drunk as it was written, "the whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy...” I also thought the father was reckless with his child as the narrator recalls, "my right ear scraped a buckle..."  With these thoughts in mind, I simply closed my mind off to the idea that there was beauty behind the poem.

During my second reading of the poem, I was brought back to my own childhood memories of dancing with my father.  He began to teach me how to dance when I was about three or four years old; my feet would be atop of his and we would move around the living room.  For years my dad and I danced in this fashion.  At times it was easy and others I would slip and fall or sometimes get stepped on myself.  No matter what though, these will always be wonderful memories, despite getting stepped on every so often.  Having remembered this, I have been forced to rethink my initial reactions to the poem.

There are very few memories people hold onto from their youth.  Life eventually becomes difficult and we have to grow up and face the day-to-day worldly challenges.  The older I get, sometimes the harder it is to recall memories from my younger youth, particularly anytime before I was about 7 or 8.  When I reread My Papa's Waltz this semester, I asked myself whether or not the same was true for Roethke.  Perhaps the night he danced with his father was one significant memory he had of his father.  Although his father had been drinking whiskey, it simply made the memory more alive and real to him as an adult.  We all strive to hold onto memories when we're older hoping they don't slip away.  The language from this poem, the writing, the description, simply keeps the time spent with his father alive.