My Family Story

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 walked in from school and I saw my mom and dad sitting at the table looking disappointed they told me the news about how we needed to move somewhere I didn't want to go.Why do we even need to go mom,please don't take this away from me please I Said.Mom said “No its for your grandmothers sake”.The short and athletic girl named Lindsay,she liked to play basketball,and she loved her friends at her old school in Calabasas.But one day her mom sat her down and said we are moving.To1`

History is defined as the study of the science of humanity in the past. It's a broad subject that spans over countless people groups throughout the years that the world has been around. Even before the times we have written word history was still being made, and it is still extremely important. We tend to forget that in our average day to day lives we are still making history. That all over the globe everyone is taking part in what might be in a history book someday.

The stories from our parents and grandparents always hold a special place in our hearts, for just an instance we get to see what the world was like from a more mature individual’s perspective, we get to live the days they did through the stories they share. My grandma, or what she is to me; my meme, has shared a variety of stories from her childhood that has allowed me to see some of the challenges and opportunities she had faced growing up. My favorite story she has shared with me would be about the time my memes parents decided to move states. The story tells about the trip on the way to move, the short amount of time they stayed, and lastly, the decision to moving back, to where they previously resided.

Hi my names Karlee Haase and I'm going to tell you about my crazy family.In my family I have a mom and dad a brother named Jarrod and a sister named Sophie, Jarrod's 16 and Sophie's 10. I'm going to tell you a story about when my siblings,cousins and I had a sleepover at our

was a tuesday and I had just gotten out of school. I was nervous and excited and my heart was beating 100 miles per hour. My sister was just born and I was anxious to see her. But I had to wait for my dad to pick me up from my mom’s house. I was taking the week off to spend time with her and to help my dad and his girlfriend with getting her situated at the house. After two hours he got to my house, The car ride was full of talk about the future and what she was gonna be like when she was older. When we arrived at the hospital we rushed down the hall to the room. When we walked in I saw my sister amaya. Her brown silver eyes lit my eyes and heart up. I knew at that moment that she would be my responsibility and I would take care of her with

Everything was about to change, we wouldn’t order take-out on Sundays, it was a big deal, I was losing my best friend, the only father figure I have ever had so far. I watched him taking all of his stuff out of the apartment, I was getting more and more mad. Wasn’t our beautiful relationship enough to make him stay? I even blame myself I thought I had done something wrong, maybe wearing his clothes and leaving them all messy, I apologize and swear not to do it again, but it didn’t matter the decision was already made.

wash the sweet potatoes and bake them in a 375 F oven for 30-35 minutes. When they are finished cooking slice them open and scrape out the flesh into a large bowl. Add one cup of sugar, 1 cup of milk 2 eggs, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and one teaspoon salt. with a potato masher mash them up. Now, in a separate bowl, add 1 cup brown sugar, one cup chopped pecans, 1/2 cup flour and 3/4 stick of butter. with a fork, mash together until thoroughly combined. Spread the sweet potato

During the period of 2008 -2011 my family went through a strong period of turmoil. My father was working in a city that was declared by the United Nations the “most dangerous city in the world, not officially declared under war.” This had many effects on us, in terms of loss from loved ones to the danger my father was in at a daily basis. This relentless violence was the sole reason why we relocated. Further, switching colleges several times as we finally settled in Tennessee. This rollercoaster of emotions and events is what affected me, I struggled with depression from the situation. This period of hardship most definitely was an obstacle to my learning. The initial part of my college career was cluttered with distractions, which took away

My immediate family includes my father Craig, mother Judy, younger sister Chloe, and myself. The heritage of my father’s family originates in Ireland and Denmark. His ancestors came to the United States around 1905. My mother’s family traveled from Germany to America in 1855. My parents married in 1994 in the Saint Patrick Catholic Church where they both grow up, in Montrose, South Dakota. Three years later, I was born at the Avera Mckennan Hospital in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Specifically, I entered the world on April 15, 1997. Six year later my family expanded by the addition of my sister. She was born in the same hospital on July 27, 2003.

As the United States was expanding, so were the prospects for my family. My ancestors arrived in the United States with the hope of bettering themselves and taking advantage of the opportunities that the United States was said to hold. This made my family excited about coming to a new land, one where their future generations, with me included, would be able to progress and prosper. Upon arriving to the United States, my uncle Ben made the journey to the lands in the Far West. They were rumored to hold a great opportunity, and my uncle could not miss out on this chance to gain prosperity (Unruh, 1993). My cousin Michael arrived from Europe as an immigrant to Ellis Island, and was also able to establish his life and those of his family members in New York City (Behdad, 2005). In addition to the two family members mentioned, it was my aunt Carol that joined the Reform Movement of the United States and became a part of a turning point in American political history (Buechler, 1990). With such a rich historical background, I was able to compel together a historical representation of my family's growth and involvement from the beginning with America.

During my excessive research on my family background, I found that I had major complication learning about my history. The reason for this was because my family was brought to a country that totally wiped out my ancestor's culture. The only part I understand of my family history is slavery. We started out as slaves in when first brought to America. We were originally from West Africa. We lived in places such Nigeria, Congo, and Ghana. This was a time when we owned our land and freedom. However, around the late 1500s, the western European culture had finally discovered our deeply rooted heritage. They saw that beautiful land we had nourished, They saw the love within our community. They saw the resource we provided. They realized the strength we had as a people. Soon the western Europeans felt that needed to conquer us and our land. The wanted to prove that we're able to conquer because of the more industrialized military they had. They forced my people to move to a unformal land that conquered from another culture of people. So after arrival to the new world, the European immediately forced my ancestors to change their names. They gave us our names of our slave owners. This resulted in my ancestors to being someone's property. My ancestors worked day in and day out in the hot sun; picking cotton, building houses, growing crops and being housemaids. The European’s would soon transition into what we know today as Americans. For the next four hundred years, the Americans

In terms of ancestry, I know very little about where I come from. On my father's side, much of my linage were African-American slaves. On my mother's side there little information to help me orient myself on a map other than being a mix of European which would include, Italian, Welsh, German, and Irish.

Family tales are a great way to pass the time in my family. Every time were at a family gathering my mother will always bring up some child hood memories of the family. Like the time when I was three years old I was basically toothless but only had my k-9 teeth. So, my cousins who were all between the ages 5-6 got together and told my mom that they should kill me because, he has fangs just like a vampire, and they were scared if I woke up in the middle of the night and suck there blood out. Another, family tale that my mom likes to bring is when my cousin had just finished his first communion (ceremony which a person receives Eucharist) they had a big party to celebrate everyone was outside partying and my aunt was changing my diaper when she then went to go ask my mother for where she kept the baby wipes and, as soon as she walked to the other room I ran outside butt naked and started dancing to the music. My last family tale that my mom likes to bring up is how accurate she is with the chancla, and let me tell you from experience she can throw that thing and hit both me and my brother and somehow, make the chancla boomerang back to her. The chancla to her was her weapon of choice almost all the time if she didn’t get you with the first one best believe that she already has the second one primed and ready to go, she would even threaten by saying “alright cabrones” and when you heard those words you better be at least a mile away from her, because she is not the type of

My mother had mentioned to me that her family‘s story is longer than a book, however, it is so hard for me to ask the details of what had happened to her because all the stories in her life strike a chord in her heart. For example, almost all of my father’s friends in Hong Kong were the people who escaped from communist China. Their stories were soul stirring. Many of them left their families in China. Their vicissitudes of life contained joy, sorrows, partings and reunions. My father was considered very lucky because he survived. Many of them capsized in the rough sea; some of them simply spent all of their energy and died on the way to their dream; some of them were caught by the militias or the soldiers; some of them were extradited back to China by the British government. Their families left in China suffered numerous humiliations. However, more than thirty years having passed, their stories were dim without a voice in history. Either their stories were too bitter to bring up, or they did not want to be named as a traitor to their country. During Mao’s era, and even for a while after, anyone who escaped to Hong Kong was considered a traitor and turned over to the enemy. Escaping to Hong Kong was a very sensitive topic. Therefore, we would hear these stories all the time, but we hardly ever see anything written down about what they had been through. I have lived in the United States for more than thirty years, vivid memories of my childhood still