Driving Vern's Volvo

My grandfather has had a hip replacement, three surgeries on his back, his gallbladder removed, and several other operations over the course of his 78 year life. For my entire life he has been my grandfather, Rachel Simon’s grandfather. Just because he has had some alterations to his anatomy over time, does that no longer make him my grandfather? Of course not. He has not stopped being my grandfather throughout my life, even though every now and then he receives a modification of sorts.

In a similar fashion, Vern’s Volvo is the car Vern has been driving continuously for twenty years. With emphasis on ownership as well as the proper functioning of a car, Vern’s Volvo is the Volvo Vern is driving at the present time, not the heap of parts Grace has in the corner. One can argue that those parts were once the original parts of Vern’s original Volvo, however Vern made the decision to pay for those parts to be removed. His hard work allowed him to make the money necessary to purchase the parts that he willingly had replaced.

If Grace were to reassemble the parts she had taken out of Vern’s Volvo, Vern’s Volvo would still be the car he drives. Similarly, if my grandfather were to have every single bone in his body replaced, every organ transplanted, plastic surgery on every surface of his body such that he was unrecognizable, he would still be my grandfather. The reason for this is that my grandfather remains my grandfather because the one aspect of his being that cannot be changed is his “essence.” The “essence” of my grandfather, his heart (figuratively) and soul, as I see them, do not change with various anatomical procedures, and furthermore, I do not stop being my grandfather’s granddaughter. He remains my grandfather. The essence of Vern’s Volvo lies with Vern himself. Grace changes out every part of Vern’s Volvo except the Volvo’s driver: Vern. Therefore, because Vern’s relationship to the car does not change, one cannot say Grace’s reassembly of Vern’s old parts is Vern’s Volvo.

The old parts stopped being Vern’s parts the moment they were taken out of Vern’s Volvo. In fact, those parts were only “Vern’s parts” while they resided in Vern’s vehicle. Let’s take a look at the journey these parts have made. While those parts were being manufactured, they were not even a part of any car. Then, they found their place in a Volvo that would be sent to a dealer. Vern bought the Volvo from the dealer and for a while all of those parts could, in truth, be labeled the parts of “Vern’s Volvo” because they resided in the car Vern drove. However, as Grace replaced each part, the parts said goodbye to their temporary possessor, and now are no longer a part of Vern’s car.

Note that the parts of something do not define the whole: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. So long as Vern is driving a Volvo, Vern’s Volvo exists. The parts lose their identity as “Vern’s Volvo’s parts” the moment they are removed. But, because Vern’s Volvo never stopped existing while these parts were exchanged, Vern’s Volvo is the car he has been driving for twenty years.

In biology we learn that there are various levels of complexity to living things from smallest to largest. They go in this hierarchical order: cell, tissue, organ, organ system, organism. With each level, there are emergent properties, meaning the level below does not contain the current level’s properties. In addition, when a tissue is disassembled, it no longer retains the property of a tissue, but rather that of a cell. When a cell is disassembled, the matter is no longer termed living. This concept corresponds to the Vern’s Volvo situation on two levels. First, that Vern’s Volvo as a whole, the equivalent of an organism (highest level of organization) retains properties that the level below (parts) cannot express. Second, Vern’s Volvo was never disassembled all at once, therefore, it maintains, for argument’s sake, organism-level status. And thirdly, this concept proves that the heap of parts simply cannot be Vern’s Volvo because they cannot even be considered a functioning vehicle. As mentioned earlier, even if Grace were to reassemble them, the reassembled car would still not be Vern’s because Vern does not drive it.

The question is not “which is the the Volvo Vern bought?” If that were the question, the answer would be more difficult to answer, because the original parts of Vern’s car could be arguably the only plausible parts of the original Volvo, yet some might argue that considering Vern bought the car and it was never demolished entirely, the car he drives is the car he bought. A similar situation would even be if I were to make a clone of my sister, Kimberly, such that she would be genetically identical, which would be the real Kimberly? Without some kind of definition of Kimberly, we cannot say. So what defines us? Our relationships with other people and things define who we are. Thus, because the question is which is Vern’s Volvo, so long as Vern drives his current Volvo, he is driving Vern’s Volvo.

"Getting to know me, getting to know all about me...."

Tonight at the Amity Varsity Basketball game I glanced down at my Dance Team jacket and saw the number ‘12 on my right arm. I couldn’t help but think, “Oh, that’s this year.” 2012 is a very important year for me, and for everyone my age considering we are making an extremely large leap from a world of structured youth to a universe of boundless opportunities and maturity. For most of us, a welcoming institution, we hope, will soften the entryway to such a universe, where we can trim our topiaries of knowledge before really feeling “set free.” In order to get there, of course, there is an application process. This process is more than just a series of questions asking about extracurriculars and family members’ college educations. I believe the college application process serves as a mechanism to continue discovering who we are. We have been doing so all throughout high school, and will continue to do so, probably more intensely, in college. Thus, the application is a hurdle we must clear before entering such a dramatically different world. Schools design their questions so we are forced to learn about ourselves. It is a necessary process, nonetheless.

In order to be truly happy, one must know oneself. We must know our weaknesses, strengths, passions, likes, dislikes, flaws, habits, etc. Because, how in the world can we expect to try and learn about the world around us or try to understand the people we know and love unless we know ourselves first? Once we realize that, perhaps, we are not the type of person who likes to get drunk in the club dancing to ear-blasting techno music, but rather we enjoy reading Jane Austen novels by a fireplace and turning in at 9:30 pm, we can surround ourselves with people who share that preference. I think a large percentage of divorces occur not because the couple didn’t truly know each other, but probably because they didn’t know themselves well enough to realize they married the wrong person.

Not knowing oneself at all is almost as bad as lying to oneself about who he or she is. We can try to deny what makes us strong (or what makes us weak), but this “un-realization” is a weakness itself. I suppose my weakness is not that I cannot confess my own weakness because I am about to tell you what it is, but I must say I believe my biggest flaw to be quite similar to lying to myself.

I worry far too much about other people’s opinions. I always have. People who know me know that I am probably the most ridiculously obsessed Harry Potter nerd ever. I have been an avid fan since the day my father began reading the books to me. However, during middle school, when the cool things to do were to straighten your hair, wear Abercrombie & Fitch, and constantly apply large amounts of lip-gloss, wearing my “Wizard-In-Training” Gryffindor t-shirt was quite frankly an unimaginable concept. I didn’t stop loving Harry Potter, I still read the books every night and highly (HIGHLY) anticipated the movies, but I began hiding my love for it. In sixth grade the day the fourth movie came out I came to school in my Hogwarts t-shirt, “Seeker” hat, and “Time Turner.” In middle school, I changed my screen name on AIM from hpdncr716 to xrachii16x. It makes me sad to think that I had to hide such an awesome part about me, that I was truly passionate about something (other than dance) because I wanted to be friends with the popular kids. Thankfully, as I mentioned, my weakness is not that I refuse to recognize my flaws. I did grow out of that phase somewhat…meaning I’m proud to flaunt my Harry Potter religion (I’ve met some pretty awesome closet Harry Potter nerds), however remnants of this weakness remain.

At the basketball game tonight, the Spartans were doing fantastically. With their score a whopping 64, the coach called a timeout. As a dance team member with a blessed affinity for turning, I usually “turn” the score, that is I do x number of fouette turns (turns where I spin on one leg, with the other whipping around to propel me) and the crowd counts them. 64 is a really big number, so I figure what if two of us do the turns and the crowd can count by two’s? We would only have to do 32 each! So, I convince one of our wonderful freshmen to do the turns with me. Around the number 56 I heard a thud and an “ohhh” from the crowd. My poor freshman had fallen on her rear end. And do you want to know my first reaction? “I hope people don’t think I’m cocky for continuing my turns after she fell. I hope it doesn’t seem as if I was showing her up.” I hate that that was my first thought instead of an “Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m so sorry I made you do the turns with me; you were awesome.”

This weakness is one that is really hard to fix because it involves an immense amount of courage and pride in being the person I truly am. Throughout high school, and now especially through the college application process, I’ve grown so much in that regard because I began doing some self-discovery. Only through knowing myself can I begin to grow out of such a limiting flaw.

Fortunately, through my college applications I haven’t only discovered my weaknesses, but also my strength, my best quality. I know it sounds really super cheesy, but sometimes my sisters and I have one of those cliché, sappy, “Full House” episode worthy bedroom chats. Nicole and I were sitting pretzel-style on my bed a few months ago and we were just talking about the three of us. For instance, the fact that Nicole and Kimberly can command a room’s attention just by walking in the door, but I’ve always been much too shy to do that. At one point, Nicole says to me, “Rach, you know what I don’t understand? Why do you have such an inherent need to be perfect? You never settle for anything less than the best.” To me, that was the best compliment I could have ever received. The people I know are frequently bothered by the fact that most of the endeavors I attempt work out in my favor. “You’re perfect, Rachel, shut up.” That’s the common comment I hear after landing a quadruple pirouette, or receiving an A on an AP Biology test. I honestly hate when people say that because they know it isn’t true. What they mean is that in me they see a truly instinctive desire to do my best, a motivation unparalleled by anything. I am proud to say that I love this attribute of myself the most.

I’ve learned an awful lot about myself during my teenage years, more than I could ever imagine. That’s because when I was a kid I had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a shy temperament. That’s what I saw in the mirror; that’s who I was. But adolescence brings about a plethora of experiences in which I, as an individual, get to make decisions for myself, find out who I want to be friends with, and, through these experiences I am almost forced to figure out who I am on the inside.

Reflecting inward can be hard for many reasons. Maybe you are scared of what you might find. Maybe you don’t want to believe that that is who you are, and you like hiding it because it makes life easier. Maybe, modesty overpowers your ability to boost your self-esteem and recognize your strengths. But, do you know what’s even harder than simply thinking about yourself? Writing about yourself. Writing something down turns something private into something public. Writing down a reflection of your strengths and weaknesses is like digging deep into your heart and soul and then displaying your findings on a jumbo-tron.

It takes courage to both reflect about oneself and to write it down. But perhaps, it is the act of writing it down that confirms the reflection. The act of writing down what I think of myself has been difficult; it feels real, like all of the abstract things I sometimes think about as I lie in bed at night are all of a sudden concrete. I found it difficult because I didn’t want to know my weaknesses…I think as humans we like to pretend we have none. Also, pondering my strengths felt more like bragging than it did self-rewarding. However, I have now written down what I think of myself. What is more, I wrote it down for colleges to see. I think that’s an added bonus for colleges: when they ask students to describe themselves they also get to see how comfortable they are with the tasks of looking inward and sharing what they discover.

It is 2012, and I am graduating high school this year. I feel at ease to know that I have already learned an incredible amount about the world around me and myself. “Know thyself” is perhaps some of the best advice I can follow. I hope to continue learning about myself as I enter an arena where the reason I am in school is for the sake of learning and expanding my knowledge for myself. “Knowing” myself leads to understanding what I want, which will lead to a life of happiness and fulfillment.