Max Schmeling Character Analysis

“Usually when people say that, they have good intentions, they think they’re giving you a compliment, but when you look at it…”

Jimmie said, “It’s an insult.”

“I can’t deny that, Jimmie,” Mother said, “but you learn you have to make allowances. You have to know which battles are worth fighting.”

Father said, “And ‘credit to your race’ and a lot of other sayings you’ll be running into are things that give you a warning about whoever it is who’s saying them. […] Think about a strange dog, Deza. They let you know if they’re friendly or not, right? […] Unless they’re rabid they give you signals that if you get any closer you’ll end up hurt. […] Think of ‘credit to your race’ as that first growl. Just be aware that that person is letting you know you need to keep an even sharper-than-normal eye on them.

Father said, “That’s what we’re hoping for, Jimmie. Joe knows he’s got to win this fight, he knows how important it is, he’ll come through.

“Some of the time life boils down to some pretty ridiculous things, Deza. This is one of them. I agree, it’s silly to put so much importance on one fight, but you have to keep in mind that this fight is the one chance we have to show the Nazis, we are people too. It’s ironic, but Joe will show we’re human by savagely beating the stuffing out of someone.”

I would have believed anything my father was saying because it was in his own strong voice. I was going to have faith in Father’s word. I was going to try to make a light come on for Clarice, because the more I thought about it the madder I got at myself for not seeing this on my own.

Father’s lisp was back. “I can’t believe it, Peg. It’th like that fog on the lake, I never thought I’d thee or eel anything like it again, but here it ith. Thith ith jutht ath heavy on my heart. Thith ith the thame feeling. Oh, God, Peg, won’t I ever get rid of thith? Ith thomething wrong with me?”

Mother wrapped an arm around Father’s shoulder.

Clarice was squeezing my left hand and Jimmie was squeezing my right as we walked.

Father said, “What ith going—”

I looked back and Mother shushed Father. “Wait till we get home, it will be OK.”

“Usually when people say that, they have good intentions, they think they’re giving you a compliment, but when you look at it…”

Jimmie said, “It’s an insult.”

“I can’t deny that, Jimmie,” Mother said, “but you learn you have to make allowances. You have to know which battles are worth fighting.”

Father said, “And ‘credit to your race’ and a lot of other sayings you’ll be running into are things that give you a warning about whoever it is who’s saying them. […] Think about a strange dog, Deza. They let you know if they’re friendly or not, right? […] Unless they’re rabid they give you signals that if you get any closer you’ll end up hurt. […] Think of ‘credit to your race’ as that first growl. Just be aware that that person is letting you know you need to keep an even sharper-than-normal eye on them.

Father said, “That’s what we’re hoping for, Jimmie. Joe knows he’s got to win this fight, he knows how important it is, he’ll come through.

“Some of the time life boils down to some pretty ridiculous things, Deza. This is one of them. I agree, it’s silly to put so much importance on one fight, but you have to keep in mind that this fight is the one chance we have to show the Nazis, we are people too. It’s ironic, but Joe will show we’re human by savagely beating the stuffing out of someone.”

I would have believed anything my father was saying because it was in his own strong voice. I was going to have faith in Father’s word. I was going to try to make a light come on for Clarice, because the more I thought about it the madder I got at myself for not seeing this on my own.

Father’s lisp was back. “I can’t believe it, Peg. It’th like that fog on the lake, I never thought I’d thee or eel anything like it again, but here it ith. Thith ith jutht ath heavy on my heart. Thith ith the thame feeling. Oh, God, Peg, won’t I ever get rid of thith? Ith thomething wrong with me?”

Mother wrapped an arm around Father’s shoulder.

Clarice was squeezing my left hand and Jimmie was squeezing my right as we walked.

Father said, “What ith going—”

I looked back and Mother shushed Father. “Wait till we get home, it will be OK.”