Who We Are. That's Just It.

Who are we?

I’m serious.

There’s a part in The Road where the boy happens to see a living human being and in turn asks his father, “Who is he?” only to have the father respond, “I don’t know. Who is anybody?”

It’s like in those interviews (god, how much I dislike interviews) when they ask you all the questions possible and then they come up with the five-star bonus question that will decide your fate: “Who are you?”

And God knows what to respond to that. ‘Is’ is a term that can be interpreted in different manners. By is do you mean the talents he obtains as in he is smart, musically-gifted, or artistically amazing? Or do you mean what is he in the character traits that make him selfish, resolute, and a hope-less romantic? Maybe. But ask someone who they are, and there are going to be some difficulties. Because, in reality, who are we?

Beats me.

And then I come upon the scene where they find this random guy who ends up scraping a knife against the boy’s throat only to be rewarded two bullets through his flesh by the protective father. And then I think:

We’re survivors.

But then I was like, “Dude, they are the ones that are making ends meet because they don’t have the sufficient amount of resources to live. They are survivors. People who live life with cash as an every-day commodity and whose biggest issues are whether their blackberry is stolen or if they’ll get a date to prom? We’re not survivors. We’re hopeless pawns that just follow the materialistic/uncaring trend to the finish line.”

So much for that dramatic statement.

Well.

I happen to come by the part where the man carves a flute from a piece of roadside cane and has the son play a tune. And I can’t help but think that maybe what they say about music is true. Like Jazz in Coming Through Slaughter the flute itself might be a harmless try at reaching peace. A type of comfort and hope. Like Kurt Vonnegut said in his novel A Man Without A Country (I highly recommend this book, by the way) :

“If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC"

And so maybe it makes no sense and isn’t supposed to mean this in the novel, but maybe the flute and the music is a symbol of hope and reassurance that God does, indeed, exist, and that they are there for a reason.

So who are we? I don’t know. Does anybody know? But what I do know is that life is not just placing things into categories and definitions. The son is all up on thinking this is worthless and they might as well just give up. But following though with that decision will define who he is, the definition being a coward.

Our actions make us who we are. That’s just it.

But the father pushes him on, and who knows?

Maybe hope and music mean something in the end.