Thronburg Family: Personal Narrative Analysis

In the beginning, a new life was started for the Thronburg family. Our motto: “plan, plan, plan” was developed. “Plan, plan, plan” means to create a plan for anything that you wish to go well. Trips, parties, and even holidays need to be well planned. When I plan things such as pool parties, Thanksgiving holidays, or vacation trips, I often find myself needing to plan, plan, and plan again, because life gets in the way and I have almost no short term memory. Therefore, being able to remember things is difficult unless I “plan, plan, plan.”
Some years ago, I had to plan a trip with a friend. My friend and I both had young daughters, around six or seven years old, now twenty and twenty one. Both girls were busy and into everything. My daughter

Even though a list is made and rechecked, it is a constant roar of laughter because my husband usually becomes my “go-fer” [gopher]. You know, the “go-fer” this and “go-fer” that, then off to the store he would go, again and again. When I used to plan pool parties every summer, no matter how much time I have to prepare for these events, something always got forgotten. The potatoes that I had planned for potato salad, turned out to be too old. So, I shouted out to my man, “Hunny…” Later, I discovered there was not enough ice. And as the word, “Hunny…” comes out of my mouth again, my guests would ask me if they could do something to help, but, I always replied with, “I’ve got everything under control, thank you though.” They would generally say ok and walk away. I was sure they all knew me so well, that they would walk away mumbling under their breath, how terrible I was to forget such things. Sometimes I even lost my list. Then, again, I would remember that I forgot something else. By this time, my husband, well into swimming, or chatting with friends, would hear me again, in a very quiet voice, “the rolls, hunny…” and with my head tilted down, a sheepish grin, and my hands clasped together in front of me, I tell him I need him to “go-fer” something else at the store. He grunts and groans, due to his having to stop swimming or socializing, and gives me a kiss as he saunters out the door to the store again. While he

I am just about to have the best Thanksgiving holiday dinner ever. My nearest best friend, geographically, will be here. She and her family are quiet speaking and kind in every way, we love the spirit they bring with them. The other guests, a plump man; boisterous, and outgoing, brought his two young men with him, my sons. I refer to them as my sons because I have known them their whole lives and they need a kind, loving mother. They brought food to share, and I, of course, made many lists for this holiday dinner, so as not to forget anything. I included horsdevores, dinner, and desserts, as part of the menu. And again… I forgot things that were needed. I made up another list for my hubby to take to the store, sang jubilantly, “Honey, I forgot to get…” He looks at me disdainfully, rolls his eyes, and says, “Give me a list.” I presented him with my list, wherein, he half-heartedly walked to get his keys and wallet. He turned and asks me, “Are you sure this is it?” And scurries through the door, for we know that this is the day the Cowboys play. As I made out the list, my guests questioned me about the list I made up. It was my second list. It only had a few things on it but the impact it made on my husband was that of sure madness, not because he was mad, but because I truly drive him crazy when he becomes my “go-fer.” On this particular Thanksgiving, he ended up missing part of his Cowboys football game,