Kurt Cobain: Collection Of Personal Accounts From Family Relatives :: essays research papers

Kurt Cobain: Collection of Personal Accounts From Family Relatives I would like to share some of the memories and perceptions I have concerning this unique, rare and original human being called Kurt Cobain. I knew Kurt during his teen-age years in the period from about 1979 to 1984. I was in my mid-30s and living in and near Montesano. My sister married Kurt's dad, Don, and also lived in Montesano. My grandfather comprehended the intelligence and individuality in Kurt at a time when Kurt was being beaten down mentally and physically. "Gramps" often told me of his respect for Kurt's tenacity and compassion even though he was in emotional pain. Shortly before Gramps died, he had been talking about Kurt. He looked at me and said words to the effect that he could see a nobility about Kurt that he had never seen in anyone in all his 70 years. One time, Gramps invited Kurt along on one of our steelhead fishing trips. We were spread out a few hundred feet apart along the Wynooche River. All of a sudden, we heard this horrendous combination of screaming, warbling and yodeling from Kurt, who was upstream and out of sight. Gramps told me to run up there and help Kurt, who must have hooked a big fish. When I reached Kurt, he didn't even have his line in the water. When I asked him what was going on, he just looked at me with those piercing eyes and huge grin. He said, "Oh, I'm just trying to thicken my vocal chords so I can scream better!" When I went back to Gramps to tell him, he just grinned and said, "It figures, We'll just let him be!" We can now say, "Thank you, Kurt, for thickening your vocal chords!" Kurt didn't fit the general mold of society in a logging town, and so he was beaten upon by people who didn't understand him. One day I heard that he was in a fight a few blocks away. When I ran to the scene, the fight was over. However, I heard from a friend that Kurt was assaulted by a burly, 250-pound logger type. Evidently, Kurt did not even fight; he just presented the bully with the appropriate hand gesture everytime he was knocked down until the bully gave up. To top it all off, Kurt just had that usual grin on his face! A final footnote to this small remembrance of Kurt: A wonderful picture comes to mind of a rare, sunny day when I peeked out the window into the yard. Kurt Cobain: Collection Of Personal Accounts From Family Relatives :: essays research papers Kurt Cobain: Collection of Personal Accounts From Family Relatives I would like to share some of the memories and perceptions I have concerning this unique, rare and original human being called Kurt Cobain. I knew Kurt during his teen-age years in the period from about 1979 to 1984. I was in my mid-30s and living in and near Montesano. My sister married Kurt's dad, Don, and also lived in Montesano. My grandfather comprehended the intelligence and individuality in Kurt at a time when Kurt was being beaten down mentally and physically. "Gramps" often told me of his respect for Kurt's tenacity and compassion even though he was in emotional pain. Shortly before Gramps died, he had been talking about Kurt. He looked at me and said words to the effect that he could see a nobility about Kurt that he had never seen in anyone in all his 70 years. One time, Gramps invited Kurt along on one of our steelhead fishing trips. We were spread out a few hundred feet apart along the Wynooche River. All of a sudden, we heard this horrendous combination of screaming, warbling and yodeling from Kurt, who was upstream and out of sight. Gramps told me to run up there and help Kurt, who must have hooked a big fish. When I reached Kurt, he didn't even have his line in the water. When I asked him what was going on, he just looked at me with those piercing eyes and huge grin. He said, "Oh, I'm just trying to thicken my vocal chords so I can scream better!" When I went back to Gramps to tell him, he just grinned and said, "It figures, We'll just let him be!" We can now say, "Thank you, Kurt, for thickening your vocal chords!" Kurt didn't fit the general mold of society in a logging town, and so he was beaten upon by people who didn't understand him. One day I heard that he was in a fight a few blocks away. When I ran to the scene, the fight was over. However, I heard from a friend that Kurt was assaulted by a burly, 250-pound logger type. Evidently, Kurt did not even fight; he just presented the bully with the appropriate hand gesture everytime he was knocked down until the bully gave up. To top it all off, Kurt just had that usual grin on his face! A final footnote to this small remembrance of Kurt: A wonderful picture comes to mind of a rare, sunny day when I peeked out the window into the yard.