My Christmas And Christmas

I loved Mexico so much, but after suffering a kidnap attempt my parents decided that the best thing to do was to immigrate to America. Our life in Mexico was set and coming to the states was like starting all over again. Learning a new language, trying new foods, and adjusting to the American way of life was very difficult, but I fell in love with the country that witnessed my birth. During the migration from one country to the other, my family went from having everything to having nothing. I never thought that I would go very far in my academic achievements because I was always the kid who didn’t know English. I was that child who was once called a “Mojado” or “Wetback” only because I didn’t speak the language that everyone else did. Growing up in a neighborhood where drug smuggling was an everyday thing, I came to realize that the only way out of this cycle was through education. As a young boy, I decided that I was going to be bilingual and show everyone who made fun of me that I was capable of being educated in

I was borned in a small village call San Bartolome Quialana located in Southeastern Mexico. It is best known for its indigenous peoples and cultures. Here, in San Bartolome Quialana, women proudly cover their heads with multicolored chews and protect their satin dress with their gauze blouse and bib garments, each made with their own hands. The fabric is reserved for the women who also work in the fields. I mostly grew up with my mother Guadalupe,Smirna and Friedy. My brother being 14 years and my sister 12. In San Bartolome Quialana I grew up speaking an indigenous language call Zapoteco. I lived in a bigger house there but didn't have any warm water, nor a shower. Our kitchen didn't have a stove we made our own tortilla in a comal. My

It seems like just yesterday Mom was telling me to pack my bags. We were living in a small farming town just outside Catarina, Mexico. Times were really tough and Dad had lost his job. My family knew of people moving to the United States for work, but my family never considered it. Our entire family resides in Mexico; the thought of moving was unbearable.

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.

I was just a small town girl living in Grants, New Mexico. There is a saying that if you blink you will miss it driving down the highway. I was born and raised in Milan; it was just a little portion of Grants. My entire mom’s side of the family lived close by us and my dad’s side of the family was in Espanola, except for my grandma Yolie my dad’s mom. I grew up knowing almost everyone in that small town. The challenge in living in Grants was there were no available jobs. My parents had to drive back and forth to and from Albuquerque. As I was in kindergarten through second grade I would stay at my auntie’s house early in the morning or with my grandma while both my parents were in Albuquerque. Family was everything to me or at least what I

When I was a little boy my mom, dad, and three little siblings lived in a in a small dimly lit cabin owned by a white man. He owned the endless fields and all of the sharecropper cabins upon it. My dad was one of the many sharecroppers who worked the land the white man owned. He rented the small plot of land in return for a portion of the crops we harvested to be given to the landowner. Our lives were hard; we worked in the fields and had very little to live on. We were poor, and to make it worse we were black.

Way before I ever existed, my parents met in Etzatlan Jalisco, Mexico in the month of October. A small town located near the capital of Mexico, Guadalajara. They dated for about two years before my parents decided to come to the United States. When they moved to the United States, they lived in Mount Airy, North Carolina with my current Godparents for about a month. After a month passed by my parents had moved to Virginia, where they stayed living in their own trailer throughout the pregnancy stages my mother was experiencing. Meanwhile, each day both my mother and father worked outside at a field harvesting peaches and tomatoes.

This house was the best as a child it had a long drive way and big field of green grass and cows. I grew a big connection to my childhood house like roots to a tree. It was a little down the road from Mt.Peak and I would always going hiking because it was enjoying for me to be with nature. I remember elementary school and seeing the same faces in some of my classes tell this day. I met my best friend in kindergarten and I’m still really good friends. Growing up in a small town there was always the same faces and same people working at the local grocery store, it takes around a minute to walk through town, most of the time you can take a bike to your friend’s house, walking to school wasn’t that hard because it’s not far and of course the same old smell of

I grew up in Brownsville, one of the poorest cities in the Southern region of Texas. My parents didn’t get to go to college so they didn't earn much. Both my parents work for the school district I got to school in, my mother works as a lunch lady and my father works in the maintenance department changing air conditioning filters. Growing up there wasn’t enough money to buy extravagant items, but we always had what we needed. My family may not have all the riches in the world, but we do have each other. Sometimes my family may not handle things well, we may not be the picture of health, and we don’t have all the money in the world but we always have love. We always support each other and are always there no matter what.

Growing up in Mexico, I was blessed with the opportunity to have a good home and a good education in one of the best private schools available. In a city with very underdeveloped outskirts, I was able to notice the good and the bad in life side by side and it gave me a new perspective on what life is really like.

If you would have told me twenty years ago that I would be where I am today I would have probably laughed at you. Growing up I never wanted for nothing and I had everything a little girl like me could possibly want. My parents ran a lake and a small local bait shop. For sixteen years we ran this little lake and I had it all. I had over eighty acres to play on, five different playgrounds with different equipment at every one of them, fishing, plenty of kids to play with during the summer time, a golf cart that I learned how to drive, free soda pop and the promise of a five course breakfast every weekend from some of our campers, I had a dad that I idolized, a mom who tried to teach me the important lessons in life, a sister to drive crazy, and a brother whom I got to see once in a while. I had it all when I was growing up and some of my class mates would make fun of me for being big, for being in a lower class, or simply because I was different. On the worst of days I would seek refuge in a little hidden world. The pine trees canopied over a certain spot and make different patterns across your skin. I would lay there for hours until Mama called for supper and watch as the bugs made a home and sometimes a squirrel would skitter around me in a hurry to get home to his family. The wind would blow through the trees and the sweet perfume would fill the air. Sometimes I would lay there until the tears would dry on my face and other times I would doze off until the sun started to

My parents worked hard and strived for their success, people often thought because my mother dressed me very nice that I had money. I recall growing up in a one bedroom apartment, but as my parents worked to gain more knowledge through college and grad school that they would able to provide a better life for me as I grew older. My mother works as a social worker and dad a Veteran of the United States Army and currently possesses a degree in Business Administration society labeled us as stuck up rich girl. My grandparents often told me stories of days on the farm and working for ten cents a day to earn fifty cents a week. I was taught to be thankful for the small things and big things would come. My childhood often bring tears to my eyes as

I’m grateful for the many things I have. Although, there are some things that I did and sometimes still do take for granted. When I went to Mexico in July, I realized there, that easy access like water and electricity isn’t as much as an easy access as we believe it is. Electricity, water, food, and sleep. Those were the main things I took for granted, until I visited. When I went to Mexico, I went to my father's side, and where he grew up. La Cienega de Norogachi. His home is hidden, in the mountains and trees, there's only about 10 - 15 houses to where he grew up. I stayed at my grandma’s house, and her home was like a farm, but she only had pigs and chickens.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Christmas break in 2005. My family and I were celebrating Christmas Eve at my house. The smell of turkey, pine needles, and freshly wrapped presents were in the air, and boy was my 6 year old self excited. My cousins and I would always sneak to the living room to inspect the abundance of presents located under the tree. My cousin Lucas and I noticed that our presents were of similar size and weight.

The Christmas Carol ties sorrow and tense all together very nicely. Charles Dickens, the author of this story, creates unusual themes and characters throughout the book. Dickens was most commonly known for the number of books he wrote, including the Christmas Carol. The 1984 version of the movie changes and improves some important scenes and themes.