Essay OnAren, Come To Dinner?

When we arrived at the house, I stood there for about five seconds before knocking on the door. They didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again, harder, and then saw the handle start to move. My stomach filled with butterflies as I watched the door slowly open. The face that greeted was one of a two year old, and as I looked up I saw her father standing over her.

The day was dark. I could feel a storm approaching. The gentle sunlight glistening through the clouds, now covered by a heavy mist. Drop. Drop. Drop. The coldness of the water tinged my face. And the earth shook, as a large boom erupted from the sky followed by a light crackle. By now, I was soaked, like that night. I continued walking through the deserted streets when a large flash erupted from the sky. Oh, great lightning, today was getting better and better. A woman and her young child was running towards their car to seek shelter. The walk was a long and dreadful one, I found myself looking at the place I left 15 years ago. The house was still dark and foreboding as ever, the shutters hanging off its hinges and the roof in a state of disrepair.

On Thursday, October 20th, the 71st Annual Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation Dinner took place in New York. Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton took the stage, just like every other presidential candidate in the past, to entertain the audience with light humor. The purpose of this dinner is to raise money to help poor families in the Catholic Archdiocese of New York. This year, the dinner raised a record $6 million dollars, despite the behaviors of the candidates. This dinner is typically an opportunity for the candidates to show the country that they are only “temporary adversaries, not permanent enemies, and that leaders have shared values that help hold the system together” (Louis, 2016). Unfortunately, Trump and Clinton took this dinner as an opportunity to make malicious jabs at each other one more time.

“Don't listen to him,” her mother says, taking her hand and leading her inside the small house, closing the door on him. “He'll come around, Awen, you'll see. Please, sit down. We have so much to get caught up on, and I just put dinner in the oven.”

“Boys, dinner!” Ma yells. We all bound to the dining room, having barely eaten anything all day. We see the same dinner we have every night, lentil soup, but it never gets old. I guess when we’re this hungry anything tastes good. We say grace and dig in, although we are still a little sad because of Pa’s death. After dinner, we all gather around the radio and listen to the latest news. Then we hit the hay after a long day, ready to do the same thing

“Mama, cover doors and windows. Everyone go to the bedroom, and put your masks on,” I directed, calmly. When I got to the bedroom, everyone was huddled around each other, with a white cloth on their face. Suddenly, the room became dark. You could hear the heavy breathing of everyone in the room, yet you couldn’t see anyone. The storm felt like it lasted for days, but only really lasted a few minutes. When I got back to the dining room table, I saw a letter on the table from the bank.

Underneath her bare feet she could feel the coarse hail dig into her skin. She pushed through the pain and heard a branch snap behind her. Her hair whipped towards the sound and was met with piercing white eyes in the darkness. The slow, deep, heavy breathing began to chuckle and

“Time for dinner” her mom called, reluctantly she shuffled into the kitchen her golden hair rolling lazily off her shoulders, she sat down in a worn wooden chair, “fish again,” she thought, never the less she ate dinner as she always did saying little to her mom as they ate.

Lyndsey runs out of the building into the dark stormy night. She races to the park across the street as the rain cascades down like a 100-foot waterfall. The lighting strikes the ground all over in sync with the loud claps of thunder rearing its ugly voice. With blood pouring down her face, she runs until it hurts to breathe. Her lungs feel like a fire is raging in them. She stops next to a tree and falls to the ground.

“Maria! Maria where are you?” I look around the vast yard searching for my sister. I give up looking, she’ll eventually come in when she notices I’ve stopped looking for her. I pass my mother on our porch staring into the horizon waiting for something that’ll never happen. “A blizzard” the radio had crackled out last night. The reporter said that anyone in Oklahoma to leave if they still can. My father and I don’t believe that bogus, but it has Ma a bit rattled. I ran up the stairs of our rickety old house up to the attic. I heard the slamming of the door. It must be Maria, ‘cus it’s still light outside so Pa shouldn’t be home yet. I peek down stairs and Maria and ma are heading into the kitchen to cook supper. I know I should go and help but

He searched the house, checking around every corner, behind every door, even going so far as to boldly going through the dark, dank, cramped, moist basement that used to scare him from his childhood, though not anymore; nothing. The lovely, young woman he called “Mom,” with blonde hair cut into a short bob, eyes as beautiful and clear as the azure sky in the summer, not exactly thin, but also not overweight, so tall that she towered over him like a

“So, since your father and his father didn’t have a couch or extra blankets, Dad told me to sleep in his bed while he slept on the floor. I told him no, so he set up a divider; I took the wall, he took the edge.” Mom rested her arm on the counter and sucked in a gulp of air.

Don’t Judge Me By My Exterior Appearance Knock, knock. Who’s there? Guess. Guess, who? Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?!!!

My mother had left my dad’s house slippers by the coat rack behind the door. I was grateful to her as the floor felt like ice. Hanging up my coat, I slipped into my dad’s bathrobe, which was hanging on its peg. We had a fireplace in the living room and the chimney exited the west side of the roof. I smelled the smoke of the dying fire, and I knew my mom was in bed. The bedrooms were located on the second story. Her room was located at the end of the hallway, and my room was at the head of the stairs above the

For this Discussion I chose to view Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner starring Sidney Poiteir and Katherine Houghton. Sidney and Katherine met during a vacation in Hawaii and flew back to San Francisco together to inform her family about her new fiancé. The first person Katherine introduced Sidney to was the maid, Tillie. Tillie, a black female, seemed very disgusted to see Joanna with a black male. Katherine’s parents seemed to have the same reaction during introduction with the doctor. Her parents instilled in her the idea of racial equality, but in no way did they think she would be bringing one home to marry him. Throughout the film, Tillie continued to give Sidney the cold shoulder and during one scene confronted him discrediting him being