Throughout life one is taught that the family is the pure substance of our occasionally cruel society. A family, therefore, is a shield or a bubble if you will, against hatred of the unmerciful world. But how genuine and benevolent are families? One can even argue that the family can be threatening and ungrateful. When examining an essay by Barbara Ehrenreich entitled "Are Families Dangerous?" we find ourselves drawn into her observations that a family can be a "personal hell" (Pg. 2203). In contrast, the poem by Robert Hayden entitled "Those winter Sundays" lets us examine a softer side of the family.
             Mostly in youth we are accustomed to feelings of ungratefulness because things are expected to be done for us. Throughout life people experience deeds of ingratitude that they themselves have displayed. However, as time passes and people mature, they look back on their acts of thanklessness with feelings of regret and sometimes even guilt. Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays" evokes emotions and memories, which help the reader, recall situations of ingratitude that he or she wishes could be changed.
             I can relate to the poem because my father has acted as both my parents since my mother passed years ago. Whether making dinner every night after a long, hard day of work or trying to pay our expenses minus a paycheck, I doubt that I have ever expressed my deep appreciation and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I was just a kid and adolescence comes hand in hand with ignorance. As Robert Hayden put it, "What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices? (Pg. 2204)."
             Examples of ingratitude had been plentiful toward my father since my mother had passed, but none that sit so deeply in my memory as Christmas Day 2000. You see, before my mother had passed one can say that my family was upper-middle class. After her p
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