Grandfather: A Fictional Narrative

My current plan as far as outlining where this thesis is going to go involves dividing Grandpa’s story whereby every part of it will fit into each among the five assigned milestones, starting with his earliest memory in 1941 of Christmas Day at 4 River Lane.

“You can go get that now.” I said as I walked back inside to go to sleep. He sighed and grabbed his jacket and

"I guess I'll just walk then..." I mumbled. I stood up and swung my backpack over my shoulder. I began to make my way down the street. It's dark only the dim light of the street lamps lights my way. The humming of a car engine startled me.

God created the traditional family because this is the way that works best for a family unit. A child needs both a mother and father to meet it’s emotional, mental and physical needs. Children should be able to rely on their parents for stability. Traditionally stable families are important because these family structures play a role in the security and emotional stability of the child.

The men in my platoon were dropping like flies. For a second time, I raced across the open field. There was a newbie laying in the dirt. The young man was open and exposed as rounds pounded into the surrounding dirt. Getting to him was the only thought filling my

American society is a complex and growing muscle, one that changes every couple of years, if one looks at society as a whole the only potential way of understanding society is by observing characteristics of an individual’s biography and history. My grandfather, Edwin Richard Constant was brought into American society being born in the District of Columbia, in 1943. At the time of his birth, World War II had just ended and my grandfather had moved back into the NY area where he was brought up in his grandfather’s house on the east side of Brooklyn along with his mother, father, and brother. Having little memory of his surrounding environment, my grandfather had little to say about growing up in Brooklyn. Though a critical aspect of his childhood which would later affect him in sever ways was being plagued by the lost of his brother. Towards the end of World War II, his oldest brother who served as a U.S Navy Medical Corpsman, was killed on the island of Okinawa while being assigned to a fleet of Marine forces. Unlike today’s society much of society at that time held strong ties to the catholic or Christian religion which resulted in my grandfather being raised religious. Every Sunday, my grandfather was brought to the local Episcopal Church trinity in Brooklyn resulting in the development of having an interest in the church’s sense of community later becoming an acolyte, singing for the church as a choir boy. At the time, my grandfather’s prominence in the religious

I face Flich and walk over to him. I would still be running around wildly if it wasn’t for him. “You should probably get back so they don’t think you had anything to do with my escape. Thank you, for everything.”

The last narrative Collection I choice to create was a rewrite. For the rewrite, I choice to rewrite a scene from Grandfather’s perspective. The scene is taken placed during Grandfather's eightieth birthday (Final Banquet, his death). Since this scene was originally written from Cassia’s perspective, someone with completely opposite thoughts and ways of thinking would be Grandfather. At this particular scene, Cassia has not rebelled yet. Her innocence for the Society is still present as she is still believing that The Society makes no mistake and is the perfect world. However, grandfather, on the other hand has lived much longer than Cassia. He knows the secrets behind the Society that Cassia is not aware of. Additionally, lies and deceit are

I’m doing wonderful in the big house we live in in California. Its amazing. Tommy acts like a dad to me and sometimes I catch myself calling him dad. When I do he seems to glow brighter and it makes me smile knowing I’m making him happy. I smile all the time now these days.

Imagine being in a dark, cramped silent tunnel, with only a flashlight, a M1911 pistol, and a bayonet. Well that’s what my Grandpa’s job was like, His job was called a Tunnel rat and that’s what he was. A Tunnel rat’s job was to crawl into small cramped tunnels and flush out the Japanese soldiers and then blow up the tunnels. The dangerous part about being a Tunnel rat is that there were booby traps around and in the cramped tunnels and the Japanese had tunnels above tunnels with hole vents in them so if the Japanese seen the men that were crawling, they would drop a grenade and try to kill them. I am grateful that my Grandpa fought in the vietnam war and served for our country.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

“I have to go or i’ll miss the bus,” I say to my grandpa. “Okay good luck at your game,” he says, “I love you.” The last words my grandpa would ever say to me. As I left his home to catch the basketball bus.

I have many amazing people in my family. I admire them, look up to them and inspire to be like them. There is one person in my family that I look up to and has been an inspiration to me for many years. That person is my grandfather. I call him grandpa Stout. He is my mother’s father. My grandpa Stout does not live near me. Unfortunately, he lives near Rochester, New York. So for this reason I do not get to see him very much. When I was little, I went to visit more often because I was not in school yet. However, when I started school and became involved in activities, I only go once or twice a year. This paper will demonstrate the extraordinary man that I know as my grandfather.

All my family knew that my grandpa Al was getting older and couldn't do as much. Over the next few weeks, he sounded like he was getting sick. He was getting slower. But because he is as stubborn as they come, he never tried to stop working. This all concluded with a life changing moment.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.