My Autobiography Of My Family

For the past seventeen years of my life minus a few months, I have lived in the United States. I grew up skiing and bicycling in Grand Rapids, Michigan, until my family decided to move all the way out west to Flagstaff, Arizona. Many eleven-year-olds might become stubborn and defensive in response to such a massive, life-changing move, but I remember embracing it because I was with my family, and I was ready to face any obstacle that unveiled itself to me because I knew that my late comedic father, my worrisome mother, and my troublesome brother would be right by my side. As we made the two-day drive from Michigan to Arizona in our SUV together, we watched the numbers on the odometer crawl up more and more until there were 2,000 more miles on the car than there were when we started, and we

I was born in North Sioux City, Iowa. I grew up there till the time I was seven. From age five to age seven, all I would eat was peanut butter and jelly. I refused to eat anything else. My sister was a year younger than me and was always getting into things. Hospital visit after hospital visit thanks to her. Other than that, my childhood memories are faint. The only other thing I remember is not being able to read picture books with all the other kindergarteners and having to read with the, at the time, scary 2nd graders. My parents got divorced when I was seven and we finally moved to Milford, Iowa. I strongly disliked it at first, but I made some awesome friends in 4th grade that stood by my side.

My family history is a complicated one to say the least, however through this research I have learned more about them than I previously thought. Throughout the years I have spent many hours talking to both of my grandparents listening to their life journeys. My father’s mom Charlene had a rough childhood. She was born into complete poverty in the Central Valley in a town called Porterville, CA, as a field worker in during the depression. Her mother my great-grandmother was full blooded Cherokee Indian, and they experienced harsh discrimination. Living along the roads in ditches, or one room shacks they never really had much of nothing. When Charlene was 13 she got married and pregnant to an awful man, and before my Uncle David was born my grandma filed for divorce and began dating my grandfather Homer. She ended up marrying Homer and by the time she was 19 she had all four of her children, my father Don being the youngest.

My family has lived here in Oregon since the before the war between the states, and family tells us stories of the good times before all these japs started taking over. Around the turn of the century or so it started to seem like these people were everywhere. It all started with the building of the railroad. The companies brought in those people to build the railroad, and now that the railroad is completed they will not leave. To make matters even worse there is an effort by their leaders to get them to strike for the same pay as us white people that work for the railroad. There has been extremely little or no effort on their part to become like us Americans. I was walking through town the other day and what did I see, there was a huge Buddha statue in front of a new Buddhist temple. They can't even go to church like regular people.

My earliest memories of being read to were when I was five years of age and my

After the world war 2 my family from turkey (my grandma's parents) decided that they are going to immigrate to Israel because in this time a lot of Jewish people started to immigrate to Israel. They had a really good chance to move to Israel. All the Jewish people knew that the big ship coming to Israel and that’s their chance to start new life. They went into the big ship and they already knew that the british people (Who ruled Israel) might catch them, but they decided to take a risk. When they arrived in Israel the british people caught them and all the other people in the ship and took them to a really big labor camp in Cyprus for eight months, from their stories it sounds like a jail. They

Reading and writing are essential to any humans’ way of life. From the ages of 3 to 6 my mom had read to me every night before bedtime. The stories she had read to me ranged from fairytales to Dr. Seuss. The first chapter book I remember reading was in 1st grade. The teacher allowed us access to one book from her bookshelf. I chose Kristy’s Big Day from The Babysitters Club collection. I took such a huge liking to it that I begged my mom to buy me a collection of the books, which now reside at my aunt’s house. It took me the whole summer to a set of 15 books. While, I was in 3rd grade I began to write poetry. I showed my teacher some of the poems and she thought they were so incredible that she wanted me to write more,

    I am a seven-teen year old full time student who has spent most of my time secluded in my room; my upbringing and media exposure taught me to look for and enjoy details within art and literature.

My family legacy all started when my dad decided to immigrate to the United States. Life was tough back in China during the 1980’s. The government was corrupt and all the ideologies from the government failed resulting in a mass famine that was widespread throughout the country. Both of my grandparents died when my dad was only fifteen years old and was forced to work with his siblings to support the family. They worked for twelve hours a day with no sleep and barely any wage. Finally, my dad had enough of it and was ready to move to the land of opportunity. He was ready to bring his hard work and determination to the United States.

I was born in Rogers, Arkansas on October 4, 2000. At the time, my parents and two sisters lived in a little blue house on Honeysuckle Court in Bentonville. This was the house where I would grow up in, and make all my childhood memories. I would go to school at the same elementary and middle school as my sisters, and later graduate from Bentonville High School. Little did we know that this plan my family had made would change before my sisters and I were out of school.

How does a person begin to write a narrative of their own life, relating events and ideas back to their own culture? Well, first, I’d like to give some baseline information about myself. I am a white, middle-class, educated, mid-western, Christian female athlete. I come from a traditional family with a mother, father, one brother, and two sisters. Taking those characteristics into account, I would say that I am a privileged member of society, and being privileged has been part of my culture. In addition, the largest influences on my life and worldview were my family, school, church, and the area I grew up.

Tears streamed down my face as I watched my older brothers drag my beloved dolls behind their bikes. My four year old body was full of hate, and I thought to myself, I will never forgive them. Don’t get me wrong, family is the most important thing in my life. All my earliest memories revolve around my siblings, cousins, and all other family members. Being the youngest in my family, I looked up to my older siblings. Literally.

Music lyrics draw pictures in our minds to display a story; the playlist of my life describes my memories of growing up poor, and how I got on the right track to success. I was taught school at home until my parents divorced when I was 10 years old. My dad being out of the picture caused my mom, two sisters, and I a lot of stress and tough times. Affording to care for three kids and yourself is a big responsibility for one woman. To help my mom out, I taught myself independence at a young age. I tried my hardest to do everything myself. From the age of 10 to the age of 16 I made it a point to save every penny I ever earned. Throughout those years I did whatever I could to make money. I did yard work, cleaned houses and much more. I saved every dollar I received on my birthday’s. When I turned 16, I had saved enough to pay cash for my first car in full. I then got my first job to help pay for things; since then my life has been greatly impacted. I recently turned 17. I now work at least 40 hours a week, just about every week, and I am a senior in highschool enrolled in multiple college courses. To go into better detail, these lyrics tell how I felt throughout my childhood:

While growing up with a sister usually lives in the same home in my case I lived with my mother and my sister lived with her father. I grew up in New York City, and my sister was in Miami two separate locations. The outcome would be, I joined the military and currently attending school for Occupational Therapy Assistant and my sister became a housewife and a Nurse after her separation. How we are raised in two separate locations and one parent a piece can grow up in two different ways. How we turned out is two members of society that paid taxes, both own a home, and live to raise our children.

I was born and raised into a hardworking family that are the complete opposite of culture alienators. My siblings and I are all first generation in America on my mom's side and second generation on my dad's side. Life was very hard for my parents to raise all seven of us and depended on my grandparents for most of their help. Being that my grandparents brought all nine of their kids to America from Belize it was also very hard for them so survive and find stability. Most families that come to America from a third world country usually find it very difficult to keep up family traditions and sometimes lose all contact. My family found a way to stay very close and keep the Belizean culture very alive still to this day. As you can tell by now