Imagine A Person Living Without Life Essentials In Their

“The gentle green hills which on either hand enclosed the village, tufted here and there with magnificent trees, the village itself, straggling and wide, each cottage being far apart from its neighbors and each ornamented with flower beds and shrubberies; these with a lovely stream which would through the valley, formed, as far as my memory may be trusted, one of the most exquisite panoramas, on which it has ever been my good fortune to

. I can’t help but feel out of place in this town, my every public move watched by people by the dozen. I feel like a complete foreigner in my own land, the townsfolk were bitter, cold and unwelcoming. It felt like there was something here, a spooky vibe radiating of every little thing. The town belonged in a book not a thing out of place, not a drunk to be scene, it was every preachers dream.

I walked around unsteadily all day like a lost baby, far away from its pack. Surrounded by unfamiliar territory and uncomfortable weather, I tried to search for any signs of similarities with my previous country. I roamed around from place to place and moved along with the day, wanting to just get away and go back home. This was my first day in the United States of America.

Now when I say tiny town I mean it. The population is about 1,400 people with one gas station, one grocery store, and 2 restaurants with some gift shops. The first time I saw Grand Marais we drove into town and in a blink of an eye it was gone. I’ve never seen anything like this other than in movies. We finally got to her cabin, and it was one of three houses on that entire road which at first seemed horrific. But something I’ll never forget is how bright the stars were. We stood outside and saw every star in that sky, since there wasn’t many neighbors with their lights on, or highways with a cluster of traffic. The first morning I was ther, Brooklyn started to show me some amazing spots such as Hurricane river, Tahquamenon Falls, Marquette Harbor, and so much more. I got to experience a place that most people don't even realize is on the map. When the vacation was finally over I asked my friends back at home what they did. Which you can probably guess was them glued to their phones and laptops all summer. I had an amazing summer that I’ll always remember, and I'm glad it didn't involve

During the summer after I turned thirteen, I went on a vacation that changed my entire perspective on life. “Americans are so spoiled.” I remember hearing my mother proclaim this numerous times growing up. I would shake my head or roll my eyes every time, since I never quite understood what it meant. Of course, I had nothing to compare it to. I grew up in the suburbs in a middle class family. I never wanted for anything. I heard the stories of my mother and her siblings growing up; they lived in filth, they occasionally skipped meals, all seven kids slept huddled together on concrete floors. I heard those stories as if she was saying, “…I walked a mile to school, uphill both ways…” I never could have imagined the reality of what the stories truly meant until I visited my birthplace, the Philippines, for the first time.

Circumstances, no matter how terrible, can be made better by knowing that there are people who care about you. The main focus of the articles "The Suitcase Lady" by Christie McLaren and "The Firewood Gatherers" by Thierry Mallet are the two old women the articles describe. One woman is homeless, forgotten by her family and the rest of the world. The other woman is blind and shriveled, gathering firewood with her grandchildren. While the two women are largely alike, both old and on the sidelines of society, their circumstances are made vastly different by their familial situations.

We have all seen the poor or homeless people on the streets. They look cold and lonely. We don't really think about what their life is really about. But have you ever realized that most of them had a good life before they became poor or homeless. The book Almost Home by Joan Bauer goes over this, that the people who are less fortunate are still people and that they had a good life too. This and many other good lessons are gone over in this book.

My mother gave me this book to write in before I left my entire family behind in Chiapas, Mexico. She told me not to be afraid and to write whenever I am feeling upset, anxious, or angry. I haven’t wanted to write this stuff down, but I do not want to say it out loud either. I moved to America last year to stay with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Brooklyn, New York; I was twelve then and perhaps very naive about what my life would be like in America. I didn’t know any English, but my parents told me that coming to America would help me become smarter. Better even. Unfortunately, America is not what I thought it would be and in recent times, the President is even threatening to make us leave. In Mexico, I felt that I had such an amazing life, where I was able to run around and be free. But here, I am stuck between four walls in a small one bed-room apartment. In the land of opportunity, I feel that I have none.

One’s family’s history, culture and environmental factors can influence a great deal of who they are. In fact, all three of these factors have influenced a great deal of the young woman I am today. To begin with, I am an African-American woman of Haitian descent. My family immigrated from Haiti years before I was born seeking a better life. I grew up in a close-knit family that worked odd jobs to reach ends meet. I remember fondly, my mother, a single mother working three jobs struggling to put food on the table, clothes on me and my three sibling’s backs, and electricity in the house. My mother never had time to rest, enjoy her day or spend time with me or my siblings. We often took cold showers, and had many hungry nights. Due to the amount

I was born and raised in remote Nepal. We didn’t have infrastructure such as electricity, transportations, and communication, amongst others. It was a whole day’s walk to reach the nearest health center from my village. I grew up walking for about 4 hours daily carrying a heavy bag of books just to go to school. Growing up in such hardship was difficult but I preserved.

Both of her parents were born in small towns, but got educated and then settled in big cities. They would tell their offspring that life in the city was far better than in the country. Little wonder their daughter Jane loved the urban life and its energy. Sadly, beginning

She reads and explores the experiences she once read and the horrors of the pollution, which ultimately influenced her decision in moving. It begins to bring back the concept of being a part of something that you love. She felt as if she was part of the nature around her after taking

In addition, the case studies illustrate the life changing processes. This is especially so, if you can pay particular attention to the Author’s conversations with Montana Zulu, who makes transformation in life look so real and practical. Further, Living Beyond Survival aligns our ideas on personalized cultural situations. Specifically, it compares the situation of those living in the developed and the developing world.

I would have never thought that I would grow up to love the country life. I went from growing up in a big, busy, and hectic city, to a small, slow-paced, and simple town. I was so used to having neighbors, and walking and biking on a side-walk. Now I live on a gravel road with almost no neighbors. A change in environment really influences a person's personality. I now love the silence and hearing the birds chirp and coyete’s howl. The corn fields go on for miles and the sunsets are breathtaking.

I had violent, grass-stained war games with my neighborhood friends, while my mother worked in her small vegetable garden among the honeybees, and watched things grow. An ever-present warming smell of knishes and hot dogs permeated around every inch of my block as the nearby concession pumped a constant flow of fresh food to hungry little leaguers and their families. Looking up, the summer sky looked like an Easter egg God had dipped in blue dye.