Comment on the profiles

What should you comment on?

1. How well does the profile set the scene?
2. Does it give the kind of background that helps us make sense of who the person is?
3. Does it yield larger insights about the way we live?
4. Where is it successful in being vivid and concrete, and where could it be more so?
5. Does it paint a clear portrait of what the person looks or acts like, or could it be more specific?
6. Is it creative in the way it suggests the subject's personality?
7. Does it use physical details to suggest personality?
8. If the author uses dialogue or quotes the person, does their speech sound unique enough -- like them alone?
9. Should there be more scene instead of summary?
10. Is the scene-setting strong enough to not require so much explanation from the author? Or would some judicious explanation make something clearer?

Profile 1:
â€œJust finish the book! Itâ€™s not that difficult! Spell it Out!â€ My Grandfather, belted these words at me, accessing his deep, assertive voice that he used when he was angry. He grabbed me by the arm, with a grip slightly too strong to use on a six-year-old, and walked me towards the corner of the living room and told me to stay put as pushed part of the sofa towards my using it as a blockade to prevent me from leaving. â€œYouâ€™re not leaving until you finish reading that book!â€ He turned his back towards me as he spoke these words and walked away leaving me there crying hysterically, unable to comprehend why my typically warm and friendly Grandfather was acting this way. Looking back at the event now, I am still confused about the incident because it seems like such a trivial thing to get mad over. I was reading a dinosaur book and I had trouble pronouncing some of the dinosaur nameâ€¦ It was a complete overreaction on the part of My Grandpa. But over the last few years, Iâ€™ve been able to observe my Grandpaâ€™s interactions with my Uncleâ€™s children â€“ my cousins that are around ten years younger than me. In almost all situations, he expresses his love outwardly. He jokes around with them, brags about their achievements and always remembers their favorite activities to do. But when it comes to any sort of academic activity, he turns into a different person. My youngest cousin on my momâ€™s side, Connor, is seven years old, and he has dyslexia. In an unwanted moment of De Ja Vu, I saw my Grandpa shouting at him because he would consistently write his â€œEâ€™sâ€ backwards. I quickly ran over to console Connor who was bawling uncontrollably. Even though I knew it was wrong, I knew that it was not my place to go up to my Grandpa and criticize the way he chose to interact with his Grandchildren.

It is unfortunate that these images of my Grandpa are the ones that stick out in my mind. I think that it is because it is his most glaring and obvious flaw as a Grandpa. These types of interactions are memorable to me because it is almost as if it isnâ€™t the same person that I know so well. Some of my fondest childhood memories are from spending the summer at my Grandparents house in Los Altos, California. Growing up in Hong Kong, it was incredible for me and my two younger sisters to get to experience the beauty and openness of Northern California. Spending two month a year living with my Grandparents meant that I developed a very close relationship with both of them. Most memories are associated with happy family gatherings, amazing home-cooked Chinese food and awe-inspiring trips to Target. I remember always loving accompanying my Grandpa while he ran errands because he would always let me sit in the front seat and would always give me an â€œimportantâ€ task to do to help him. He was the coolest, most interesting man that I knew growing up. Before I even knew about his incredible backstory, I saw him as someone who could do anything and everything. He was an intellectual who loved to explain natural phenomena and scientific discoveries to his Grandchildren; a nature-lover who spent hours outside carefully manicuring his â€œbonsaiâ€ plants and taking care of his fish and turtles; and also and athlete who used to go the gym every day before his hip problems. I idolized my Grandfather because he didnâ€™t fit into any typical role or description. He dedicated himself to the things he loved and was able to do all of them with the highest success.

When I was younger, this was the side of my Grandpa that I saw and admired. But the more I got to know about his past and his journey to where he is today, the source of my admiration changed completely. My Grandpa came from nothing. He grew up on a small farm in Sichuan Province in China. His parents both passed away before he was eighteen and him and his two younger sisters had no one to provide for them. My Grandpa was somehow able to escape China during the violence of the Cultural revolution and ended up in Hong Kong where he worked a pet store during the day while going to school at night. To this day he has to sleep with an eye mask and ear plugs in because he got so used to doing so to drown out the sounds of barking dogs and hissing cats at night. A few years later he found his way to the States where he gradually made a living for himself. He received scholarships to multiple universities and worked night jobs at the same time. For years he told me that he would sleep 3 hours a night just to make ends meet and continue his studies. 40 years later, he is on the board of Caltech and recognized by Chinese American Association as one of the top 100 most influential Chinese Americans of the 21st century. His upbringing and the struggle that he endured to give his children a better life is something I canâ€™ t even fathom. His attitude towards studying and academics are so harsh because that is the attitude and expectation that he placed on himself. In all other aspects of being a Grandparent he is gentle, loving and caring â€“ I think that he just doesnâ€™t understand how to express that when it comes to learning.

Profile 2:
It was early afternoon on April 13th, 2016 when I got on the bus from school and checked my phone like I always did. Yet this day was different. An alert popped up from ESPN that Kobe Bryant would be playing his last NBA game ever. This game was extremely important to me as Kobe was my favorite player ever and I had idolized him for as long as I could remember. My love for him grew as each one of my four uncles were fans of him and during that time of my life basketball was my favorite sport. I tried to mimic everything Kobe did on and off the court, from hid fadeaway jump shots to his work ethic. After getting off the bus I sprinted a mile home from my bus stop and made sure I recorded the game, as most NBA games that were played on the west coast came on late in North Carolina and I didnâ€™t want to miss this. I even decided to finish my homework extra early so I wouldnâ€™t have any distractions while watching Kobe. At 7pm the pregame finally started to air and the whole Staple Center gave Kobe a standing ovation. The whole stadium was a wave of purple and gold number 24 jerseys. The game goes by and Kobe is literally making everything he throws up. By the end of halftime, he has 40 points, and at this point Iâ€™m thinking heâ€™s just had a good first half and is getting ready to slow down. To my surprise, out of the locker room comes this six-foot and six-inch brown skin man with a sweaty bald cut and a determined mean mug on his face. He rushed on to the court and I, along with everybody watching, knew that he was not finished yet. The game continues and Kobe is pumping with passion, playing his heart out. At the end of the game Kobe ended up with 81 points.

Following the game, everyone from both teams hugged and congratulated Kobe on his amazing career and he decided to give a speech. This speech is one that I will remember for the rest of my life. He starts off by thanking his family and the Lakers organization for believing in him, then continues by describing his mentality which is known around the world such as â€œMamba Mentalityâ€. Kobe explains how anyone can become successful, but the difference in those who do and donâ€™t is how bad you want to be this. You must want it more than anyone and do the work nobody else wants to do. I knew from the beginning how much I loved Kobe but learning so much about his mentality made me an even bigger fan. Looking back now that I am a college athlete, I understand the importance of every word he said in his last NBA game speechâ€¦you canâ€™t be great without an amazing work ethic. I knew he loved the game of basketball when he broke down into tears in front of thousands of people. This was a very emotional thing for me as I had watched a person who had literally given their all and continued to play games with a broken hand, meniscus and Achilles. He sacrificed a lot for the game of basketball. After the speech went off, ESPN showed all the amazing things Kobe had done for the community. He donated millions of dollars to all types of organizations, hosted basketball clinics all around the world, and even started a girls AAU basketball team for his daughter. At this point my goal was be able to meet Kobe Bryant. I found his mindset outstanding and elite; I knew if I did meet him, he could help me grow as a person and athlete.

My love grows each day for Kobe now that the world has lost him. I respected and idolized him and continue to do so to this day. He did everything right. He was a perfect role model to any and everyone. One thing I really love about Kobe is that you didnâ€™t have to play basketball to be impacted by him. His â€˜Mamba Mentalityâ€™ can help anyone for the simple fact that it doesnâ€™t just relate to basketball but teaches people to pursue greatness in whatever they do. On top of basketball, Kobe was a family man. I watched every single one of his interviews and in each one he talked about the importance of family. He showed tremendous amounts of love for all four of his girls and his wife. He was a prime example of a great man, and in my eyes he was perfect. Kobe Bryant is who your parents want you to grow up to be, athletically or not. It broke my heart knowing a person I had looked up to, learned from and respected for so long, died in a tragedy. The one thing that keeps me going is knowing how much of a positive impact he had on the world. Kobe motivated the world and seeing that I am not the only one who he had such a strong impact on is incredible. I wrote this paper to show the love and respect I possess for the man who gave me the instructions to succeed.

Profile 3:
My Grandfather

Itâ€™s two oâ€™clock on a quiet Sunday afternoon in the summer. Weâ€™re in my grandparentsâ€™ medium-sized apartment in a working-class town in the small central European country of Slovakia, and my grandfather is absolutely in his element. I sit on the couch next to him as we are both watching TV in absolute silence, just as he likes it. The man who is relentlessly active and hard-working in all aspects of life has finally decided to allow himself a short break to indulge in some weekend television, most likely tennis, cycling, or Formula 1 racing. He has traded his handsome but plain work clothes, almost always some sort of khakis and a button-down shirt, for an equally complacent-looking gray T-shirt and some baggy gym shorts. Iâ€™ve spent enough weekend afternoons watching these sports, which most Americans donâ€™t get to see frequently, if ever, with my grandfather that Iâ€™ve developed somewhat of an appreciation for them. If I were with anyone else, I would ask a question or make some observation to show that I am just as interested as they are. However, I know my grandfather well enough to know that he would hate that, so I just keep my mouth shut and watch with him. The truth is, this is not a specific Sunday, but rather one of dozens that Iâ€™ve experienced in my life. My mother has told me several times that he would do the exact same thing on Sunday afternoons with her and her siblings many years ago; he would gather up the whole family to sit in the living room and watch whatever sport was on TV that day, and no one was allowed to interrupt. Still, I am certain that he is enjoying himself, because otherwise, he wouldnâ€™t be sitting here in the first place.

My grandfather is absolutely not a person of frivolity, meaning that everything he does is because he enjoys it, it is to help others, or he has to. He grew up in communist Czechoslovakia in the 1950s, and while I have not actually heard many first-hand stories about it, it undoubtedly played a major role in the person he became. He ended up choosing to go into medicine, despite the fact that doctors were not especially well-respected in that time, because he was so passionate about helping others. Him and my grandmother had 4 kids together and were model parents in every sense of the term, despite the fact that they also had to raise their children during the later years of communist rule in Czechoslovakia. Although he can sometimes come off as cold at first, once you get to know my grandfather, you can see how valuable human interaction is for him, especially with his family. As we continue to watch whatever sport my grandfather has chosen this particular Sunday, in the back of my head I also know that at some point soon he will ask, in the sort of way where itâ€™s more of a command than a question, my brother and I to go for a bike ride with him. He lives for these bike rides with his grandchildren because of what they mean to him. I also know that this ride will probably be upwards of 20 miles and leave the both my brother and I exhausted. Meanwhile, my grandfather will have barely broken a sweat, as he regularly rides double that or more on his own. Even at his much older age, there is a decent argument to be made that my grandfather is in even better shape than I am. He does hundreds of push-ups and sit-ups every morning after waking up and eats and incredibly healthy diet. I donâ€™t think he chose this way, but rather I think it is the only way he knows how to live his life.
Itâ€™s difficult to imagine communism in 20th century Europe as having been a positive development, but my grandfather shows that at least a few people were able to learn good lessons from it. Spending so much of oneâ€™s life in that time and place in history certainly serves as a great way of teaching what is important in life and what is not, and Iâ€™m not sure I know anyone in life who has their priorities as much in line as my grandfather. Nowadays, he could certainly afford to live somewhere much bigger and nicer than my grandparentsâ€™ current apartment, but he really only splurges for two things: a nice car and family vacations. His car is something that he takes immense pride in, so he hand-washes it on a weekly basis, and I think he uses it as the one physical symbol of where his hard work has gotten him in life. Family vacations, of course, he has no issue paying for because of how valuable his family is to him. Heâ€™s also now well in his 70s yet continues to work and run his own practice, with no sign of retirement anytime soon, and quite frankly, I couldnâ€™t imagine what he would do with himself without his job to go to. His hours are such that he always has time for family, and I see all the time the strong bond he has with his patients. Every time I go somewhere with him, we inevitably run into several of them, and I am always amazed by how much respect and admiration they have for him. When I was younger, I would always think of him as simply a grandfather like any other, but I later came to realize what a special person he really is.

Profile 4:
The Multipurpose Wingtips

I rang the doorbell as a courtesy. He didnâ€™t know I was coming over, but it didnâ€™t matter; the door is never locked. Itâ€™s probably not the safest idea, but he doesnâ€™t care. Everyone is welcome, itâ€™s just the way he is. I let out a bellowing â€œhelloooâ€ over the sound of the doorbell completing its age-old tune, despite already being halfway to the kitchen. â€œMegg-o!â€ he beamed as he came around the corner. His all-black wingtip shoes shuffled across the floor as he walked towards me with arms opened wide. He was sporting his everyday attire; a blue and white striped dress shirt, navy blue dress pants, with a cross pen in his shirt pocket and his wingtips on his feet. He locked me in a big bear hug, while I held the box that I had brought with me behind his back, and we walked to the kitchen. He glanced at it, but he didnâ€™t ask. He set down his morning mug of tea, of which he had several a day. He bustled around the kitchen asking me if he could get me anything, a soda, a water, a Klondike bar that he was hiding from Grammy. I said I was fine, but he poured me a glass of water anyway.

My Grampy is always putting everyone else first. Heâ€™s always asking about everyone elseâ€™s days, and lives, and finds genuine joy in hearing what others have to say. I donâ€™t think Iâ€™ve heard him complain a day in his life. This is, as my dad has told me, because no matter what he has to face, heâ€™s already faced worse. Even at 80 years old, he has no problem climbing up and down the steep flight of creaky wooden stairs in their old two-story home in Hyde Park, Boston. He practiced the art of resilience his whole childhood, and now in his old age he had perfected it. You would never be able to tell where he came from through just talking to him. You would instantly know that he came from Boston, of course, with an accent straight out of Good Will Hunting.

He came from practically nothing. With his father being an abusive alcoholic, he and his brother, Uncle Brendan, were inseparable, serving as each otherâ€™s rocks. His father and mother both died while he was very young, leaving him to try and fend for himself. The youngest of 12, he would move from house to house of his older siblings, many of whom were World War II vets, taking him in as they started families of their own. He was always so grateful to be surrounded by so much love, and people who cared for him. He would babysit their kids, his nieces and nephews, and scrape up money in jobs here and there so that he could afford to buy them presents on Christmas and their birthdays. Everyone loved â€œUncle Ricky.â€ His happiness and kindness are truly infectious. He always gives and never asks or expects anything in return. Heâ€™s a very simple man; he smiles easily, and seldom complains.

He began working for the MBTA, Bostonâ€™s subway system, at 20 years old. Constantly working through the night in the grimy tunnels, he would wear the same thing he wears every day, except this time switching his wingtips in for work boots. My dad could always smell the gas and oil that stained and seeped into the fabric when he returned home from a long nightâ€™s work, before he sent them off to school for the day. When theyâ€™d return home, theyâ€™d wake him up to start the cycle over again. He was never concerned with material things; he would find joy in family, and the happiness that he brought them whenever he could. Thoughtful gestures of bringing home my dadâ€™s favorite drink and bag of chips when heâ€™d come back from working a shift at the liquor store were characteristic of his everyday consideration for others.

His unwavering love and caring for others, however, can sometimes put himself in harmâ€™s way. He refuses to complain, and often will be very stubborn about seeing the doctor. He always insists that he can fix everything. Luckily, his wife and 5 children constantly remind him of how ridiculous this is, and ensure he always gets the help he needs. Even while heâ€™s in the hospital, he feels bad about people coming to visit him, as though heâ€™s inconveniencing us. He goes palms up, shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders and just says â€œeh I donâ€™t know,â€ and proceeds to explain how badly he wants to leave. I once gave him a unicorn stuffed animal when I was younger, after he got out of surgery. He was so genuinely happy that day, and still keeps it in his room.

Grampy is the type of man that would take deep offense if you were to hire a plumber, or electrician, to do anything in your home. Thatâ€™s his job. If there is something to be fixed, heâ€™ll drop everything and come to your aid, sporting his wingtips regardless of the task, of course. Climbing onto our roof to fix a leak: in his wingtips. Climbing the tree to help cut down some low hanging branches: in his wingtips. Jumping into the pool after helping us move into our house: in his wingtips. The sleeves of his dress shirt were always rolled to his elbows, so as to help anyone at a momentsâ€™ notice.

He asked about the box I had been toying with in my hand, and I told him it was an early birthday present, though his birthday wasnâ€™t for months. He shook his head and let out a slight chuckle, and sigh, as was typical of him whenever someone did anything for him. I watched intently as his hands, weathered from years of working long nights on the rails, slowly dismantled the wrapping around the box. He peered over his glasses, carefully peeling back the layers, with the look of insurmountable gratitude, over this small gift of which he still didnâ€™t know the content. When he finally got to the cardboard encompassing the gift, he peeled back the top, and looked up to be with full-toothed grin on his face, his deep crow lines in full force. He proceeded to take the University mug out of the cup. His hand stroked the scruff on his chin, and he looked back up at me again, this time with tears welling up in his deep blue eyes, and the smile of appreciation and pride across his lips. He just nodded, looking back down at the cup, and back up at me again. Without saying a word, he pushed back his seat from the table, walked over to me and embraced me. â€œOh, megg-o.â€ He laughed. â€œThank you.â€ We hugged for a few moments longer before he pulled away, and proceeded to transfer his tea into his new mug.

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