Jessica Couch - A Very Small Ledge

.

.AUTHOR

Jessica Couch

I am a junior English major and Women's Studies minor. For the three semesters that I have been at UK, I have been on the Dean's List with a 4.0 average. Also, I just received a $1000 merit scholarship from the College of Arts and Sciences.

In this personal essay, "A Very Small Ledge," I reflect upon the alcoholism prevalent in my closest relatives, while also examining my own drinking habits. I juxtapose anecdotes of family members with my own experiences of alcohol. In the end, I conclude that my family's habits, however detrimental, do not curb my own. In this self examination, I realize that I choose to live on a very small ledge.

In the future, I hope to become a professor of both English and Women's Studies. As writing is one of my great loves - a love that I hope to share with my students one day - I find my personal reflections, such as this submission, a passionate yet necessary medium for my advancement. For this piece, I was forced to objectively analyze my family's use of alcohol as well as my own. Such honesty was greatly encouraged by my mentor, Erik Reece.

When I'm not writing or doing homework, I'm usually working. I work at a private company called "Patient Advocates" that helps find medication for people in Kentucky who otherwise could not afford it. Fortunately, it's a job that is both rewarding and fun.

Somewhere, spiraling in the tightened coils of my genetic code, a hidden culprit attaches with inexorable force to my x chromosomes like a rabid dog to a helpless child - the dominantly diseased inheritance of German and Swedish stock. This entity resides in each cell of my body, resting quietly and waiting for the ambush during that lowest valley of human emotion, the most stressful of deadlines, or any mundane moments of a long workweek. This being preys on its victim like a sucking parasite on the intestinal wall, extracting personality and nutrients until the real person only flickers in between red eyes and belligerent rantings. The person becomes this being, feeding it, nurturing this whining child and its insatiable belly. More. More. More. Unable and unwilling to realize the loss of will, the person, marked by a parched tongue and unseen driving force, looks into the fridge, the pantry, the linen closet, the marble top bar, and even the spice cabinet. Wherever it can be found, the main ingredient is constant: alcohol, the purer, the better.

Most people know where they come from by their connections with a region of the world, a warm home, and close relatives. For me, the story of my ancestors, my relatives, where I come from, and where I might end up is in my blood. My blood faintly whispers the family secrets of weak fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, and uncles so thirsty they would give their career, their life savings, and even the love of their family for just a drop of sweet oak bourbon, the froth of a dark beer, or the olive at the bottom of a dirty martini. No, that's not right. They'd settle for the worst beer, the cheapest vodka . . . even cooking sherry. Their quivering hands fumbling through the cabinets of the house for that drop, that fix, that smooth buzz, they sought a liquid filler for a void that wasn't just in their stomach but in their minds.

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Mentor:
Erik Reece,
Lecturer,
Department
of English

How many writers who come from a family of congenital alcoholism can face up to that brutal lineage - and face it down - with skill, honesty, and courage? Jessica Couch can. "A Very Small Ledge" is a collection of searing, unflinching portraits of a parent, grandparents, and uncles whose lives were hollowed out and ultimately cut short by alcohol. But be forewarned: this is not a morality tale. Jessica is looking for the truth; she isn't satisfied with easy answers or neat summations. That, after all, is not the essayist's job. Between each family portrait, Jessica turns the camera on herself to examine a complex series of events that lead to her own "very small ledge," From there, she must stave off her family's demons - even as she beckons them toward her. As the writing instructor who watched this piece develop, where would I rank it? Right beside Pete Hammil's The Drinking Life, Scott Russell Sanders' "Under the Influence," and Robert Stone's "Helping." Jessica brings poetry to a subject that could not sustain itself without that healing voice.

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. .AUTHOR	Jessica Couch
.	I am a junior English major and Women's Studies minor. For the three semesters that I have been at UK, I have been on the Dean's List with a 4.0 average. Also, I just received a $1000 merit scholarship from the College of Arts and Sciences. In this personal essay, "A Very Small Ledge," I reflect upon the alcoholism prevalent in my closest relatives, while also examining my own drinking habits. I juxtapose anecdotes of family members with my own experiences of alcohol. In the end, I conclude that my family's habits, however detrimental, do not curb my own. In this self examination, I realize that I choose to live on a very small ledge. In the future, I hope to become a professor of both English and Women's Studies. As writing is one of my great loves - a love that I hope to share with my students one day - I find my personal reflections, such as this submission, a passionate yet necessary medium for my advancement. For this piece, I was forced to objectively analyze my family's use of alcohol as well as my own. Such honesty was greatly encouraged by my mentor, Erik Reece. When I'm not writing or doing homework, I'm usually working. I work at a private company called "Patient Advocates" that helps find medication for people in Kentucky who otherwise could not afford it. Fortunately, it's a job that is both rewarding and fun.	Somewhere, spiraling in the tightened coils of my genetic code, a hidden culprit attaches with inexorable force to my x chromosomes like a rabid dog to a helpless child - the dominantly diseased inheritance of German and Swedish stock. This entity resides in each cell of my body, resting quietly and waiting for the ambush during that lowest valley of human emotion, the most stressful of deadlines, or any mundane moments of a long workweek. This being preys on its victim like a sucking parasite on the intestinal wall, extracting personality and nutrients until the real person only flickers in between red eyes and belligerent rantings. The person becomes this being, feeding it, nurturing this whining child and its insatiable belly. More. More. More. Unable and unwilling to realize the loss of will, the person, marked by a parched tongue and unseen driving force, looks into the fridge, the pantry, the linen closet, the marble top bar, and even the spice cabinet. Wherever it can be found, the main ingredient is constant: alcohol, the purer, the better. Most people know where they come from by their connections with a region of the world, a warm home, and close relatives. For me, the story of my ancestors, my relatives, where I come from, and where I might end up is in my blood. My blood faintly whispers the family secrets of weak fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, and uncles so thirsty they would give their career, their life savings, and even the love of their family for just a drop of sweet oak bourbon, the froth of a dark beer, or the olive at the bottom of a dirty martini. No, that's not right. They'd settle for the worst beer, the cheapest vodka . . . even cooking sherry. Their quivering hands fumbling through the cabinets of the house for that drop, that fix, that smooth buzz, they sought a liquid filler for a void that wasn't just in their stomach but in their minds. Top of Page \| Next Page
Mentor: Erik Reece, Lecturer, Department of English
How many writers who come from a family of congenital alcoholism can face up to that brutal lineage - and face it down - with skill, honesty, and courage? Jessica Couch can. "A Very Small Ledge" is a collection of searing, unflinching portraits of a parent, grandparents, and uncles whose lives were hollowed out and ultimately cut short by alcohol. But be forewarned: this is not a morality tale. Jessica is looking for the truth; she isn't satisfied with easy answers or neat summations. That, after all, is not the essayist's job. Between each family portrait, Jessica turns the camera on herself to examine a complex series of events that lead to her own "very small ledge," From there, she must stave off her family's demons - even as she beckons them toward her. As the writing instructor who watched this piece develop, where would I rank it? Right beside Pete Hammil's The Drinking Life, Scott Russell Sanders' "Under the Influence," and Robert Stone's "Helping." Jessica brings poetry to a subject that could not sustain itself without that healing voice.