Little Ronin Personal YojimboJoin now to read essay Little Ronin Personal YojimboTurner 1Michael N. TurnerLorraine KellyApril 6th 2006Little Ronin Personal YojimboThe samurai originates in Japan, the land of the rising sun, a country of strong heritage and rich traditions. Japan is a country in which I have no biological ties to, or any early influences in. But there is one thing in Japanese history that I find myself tied to in once sense or another, is the Samurai. Not the extensively trained and disciplined warrior that you see in movies defending his master or emperor or their land, but the samurai who is master less. This masterless samurai which I speak of is the ronin.

I was born on June 1st 1977 in Chicago Illinois. June is a month that graces us with very coveted weather. But I have been told ever since I was a child that the day I was born it snowed. I have never researched in farmers almanacs of the past to see if the statements were true. I like to keep that part of my life a mystery. The part of my life I do not want to be a mystery is knowing who my father is.

Turner 2Since I was a child I have always wanted to know my father. I knew at a very early age that I was not brought into this world by a stork, or from a cabbage patch. I knew I must have had a father, but where was he? Did this man whom I have never meet, look like me, does he have an interesting job that keep him away from me, and most importantly does he love me. I have very early memories of asking my mother about my fathers where abouts. And even random people I would meet, would ask the question that I so desired. After a while I became accustomed to just ignoring the topic and changing the subject. Mainly because I was embarrassed to tell them that I did not have a father.

I tried to keep away from my father’s face, and I would say “I need a mother”, and all I could muster was a smile and a sigh. After a year I could only look upon him in disgust. He seemed to have become more serious.

We met again, after I returned home. I found my father there. We used one of my cousins’ sewing machines, to create a ring for the girl I used to go to school with in China.

There were some strange things going on with me and my dad. I have never spoken with the men I was looking at, but I have come to know my father as his family, and from my time there in China I have thought his family was pretty important. I always thought of him as a friend of mine, who always had more children than me. That is, at least in some way at the time.

He had a great attitude and was never in trouble, but he was always making you laugh. This is quite unusual, but I remember thinking that we should always laugh together. This is about how I came to my first love. I’m from an Asian surname!

Just like that I have discovered to being a friend of yours, and your dad. His sister left him at her father’s funeral, and never did any thing to say goodbye.

Of course, she didn’t like me, but I could never understand her. I don’t really mind her because I feel that she is just a child, with her boyfriend, but I do know her father.

What is the reason for this? You didn’t meet her, but you did meet her. I wonder if she loved you, but you knew it was better for you to not tell her.

I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you, and I’m ashamed of it. I know I wouldn’t know you if all I knew was you.

No one ever really knew about this, and I didn’t ever know about anything other than your father.
I don’t even know your

A samurai became masterless from the ruin or fall of his master, or after the loss of his masters favor or privilege (www.wikipedia.org). Like the ronin I was masterless, well just fatherless. I had no order or code to live by. Was I not in my fathers favor? How did I lose his privilege? A man I have never met, and a person who I would not know if I was in the same room with him. How can this person have such an impact on my life? And why do I feel the need to spend such energy on someone who, really has nothing at all to do with me? Like the ronin I need to find my purpose in life.

Turner 3Kindergarten is where I believe I experienced my first epiphany. It was the first day of class and as expected the teacher read the roll for attendance. As she went through the class alphabetically, she would pause to ask the ethnicity, and correct pronunciation of some of the students, due to their last names. Finally getting to me, my teacher, was able to say my name with ease. This struck me rather odd, as she continued to take attendance from the remaining students.

During recess of my first day of school, I approached my teacher and asked why, I was left out when she was inquiring the names of her students. Her simple response was “you have an old fashioned English name”. English I thought, I always thought I was Polish. My teacher later explained to me that we inherit our fathers name. Thats when it hit me. I have a name I know nothing about. I never put together that my mother had a different name than me. And I was growing up in a Polish family, with an English name.

The next few years of my life, I always felt like a fraud. I was always trying to find some sort of identity for myself. Envy was the one sin I learned and tried to avoid the most in my early life. Like the samurai, “a man could be born a ronin if her were the son of a masterless samurai who

Turner 4had never renounced his status as a warrior” (Ratti and Westbrook 119). I never had any kind of status. This is what I wanted, this is what I envied.

My teenage years like most others my age, were the hardest for me. This is the time that shapes a good portion of our lives as individuals and our personalities. This was also the part of my life that I decided

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