My Father: the Person I Admire Most Essays

What I learned and understood about my father through conversations with my older siblings was about the impact of the loss of my grandfather (my father’s father) at an early age, heavy responsibilities taken on at an early age (hardship of the Depression era) to help support his mother and younger siblings. This led him to a strong sense of responsibility and a deep faith. But it all made him seem emotionally unavailable. The hard times for black families dealing with racial discrimination and the horrors of Jim Crow led to strictness that he, in all likelihood, felt was necessary for the survival of his children. There simply was no place for lighthearted fun. This greater understanding led to a stronger connection with my father, and an appreciation for such things as his devotion to having taken care of his family, his integrity, compassion for those less fortunate than himself, and the commitment as a deacon and Sunday school teacher.

One event that defined a part of my life that involved literacy was when I had to write a

Growing up I was always attached to my mom. My mom was my rock, as moms usually are, and I couldn’t stand to be left without her. I would cry whenever she left me with my dad and brother, even if it was for the slightest bit of time. My dad worked full time at a big corporation, and my mom was a stay-at-home mom, which may explain why I was so used to her being around. When I got to about the middle school age, my bond with my dad began to develop; I began to enjoy my dad’s attention whenever I could and I appreciated being around him more.

People have others that they admire like a friend, teacher, coach, or family member. The people they look up to are very important and help influence them in their lives. One influential person in my life is Jim Dunman because he is hard working, respected, and talented.

My relationship with my father had shaped all my experiences with my friends, family, school and even careers.

As a toddler, I spent my time living with my grandparents and my mother in Honduras. My father had moved to the United States just a few months after I was born. My mother would work during the day and my uncle's wife would baby sit me. I was still quite young and all I knew was that my father moved because he wanted to provide the best he could for his family. I lived in a house where not only my mother and I resided, we shared a home with four of my cousins, two of my uncles, and their wives. Everything I received at that age came from what my dad sent my mom and the rest of his family and what my mom earned. In 2004, months after my 4th birthday, my mother told me we were finally going to be reunited with my dad. I was of course

My dad has always been my biggest motivator and the reason for growing up the way I did. We had a very tight relationship; I was definitely a "daddy's girl." I always wanted to be around him, he was someone I looked up to when I was younger. I always looked at him like he was so much more

Although my parents never had a lot of money, my father was very generous, “loaning” money to friends, knowing he’d never be repaid. He was very loyal and honest—blunt even—and sentimental. He believed it was important to treat people with respect, to give them a chance, and to always do the right thing.

I have been influenced by many people in my life. Being inspired by these people has helped shape me into the person that I am today. However, there are a few that I look up to more than anyone else. Three of these people are Steele Johnson, Audrey Hepburn and Neil Armstrong.

Without my father in my life, I would not have had the motivation to push forward with my goals and aspirations that I have had in my

Many people call me “Daddy’s Little Girl”. There’s quite a bit of truth in that because my dad has never failed to have my back through anything. He’s my dad; I confide in him about everything. He’s always there to talk to and the advice that he gives me works wonders. I don’t confide more in anyone else but my dad. He has my back through events that I don’t even think that I need help with.

mother met my step-father a couple years after. Since then, I could say he’s been the greatest father ever. I was growing up with him, and I always viewed him as being my real father. I never had that father figure till he came. I mean I love him because he had the guts to accept my mother with a child. He turned out to be a good role model for me. He taught me morals and values, something my other father never told me. My step-father loves my mother. Both of them struggled economically at first, but they worked hard to raise me right and become the person they want me to become. I remember my step-father telling me that everything will turn out right. He wasn’t like other step-fathers who abuse their children.

The quality that I admire the most about my father is how hard working he is. When my father was in high school he ran track. He worked hard everyday and night. He always fought the temptation of being lazy and giving into peer pressure. His hard work paid off and he made it to states his senior year. He also holds many records at his high school. If you ever walk through the hallway of Fairview High School, where the trophy case is you will see a picture of my father with his track records that still to this day have not been broken. His dedication has worn off on me with softball. Although, I do not possess any records, I still train hard in hopes of making my own records. I hope one day I can be the best, just like he was. My father will continue to make a positive impact on my life. His constant guidance and advice, always being there for me and his great qualities have influenced me and made me the person I am

Okay so, i was going to talk to him this morning cause we’ve never talked face to face. And that crashed and burned. Like really really bad.

The time in which I was born was very different than the one my parents had to live in when they were children. I was born in a small town in Colombia, where no more than a hundred families lived. The entire population of my hometown was Catholic. There was a small chapel next to my house and the priest went there once a month to celebrate Mass. He and the seminarians stayed at our home, when they went for the Holy Week and Christmas missions. On Saturdays, my brother and I went to a town an hour away afoot or 20 minutes on a horse, to have further studies. Ninety percent of that town’s population were Pentecostal and only 10 % were Catholic. There was a big Pentecostal Church in the middle of the town and a small Catholic church outside the village. My brother and I went to study there on Saturdays because the Pentecostals offered to us a couple of American godparents who sent us gifts twice a year from the US. Nonetheless, to get those gifts we had to attend school on Saturdays, take pictures with the gifts in our hands, and attend the Pentecostal service once a year. During that service, my brother and I laughed the whole time at the people dancing in the church. My aunt, the only Pentecostal member of a family of twelve siblings, got embarrassed for our behavior every time we attended the service.