My First Memories Of Talking With My Grandfather, Poppy

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner, “Joe,” my father hollered up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds upset.” As I came downstairs to pick up the phone, I was not happy. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Jackie.

“Mama?” Almost immediately I cannot detect her red curly hair anymore, I can only hear her cry my name, “Sonny!” My heart drops down to my feet the second I cannot hear her voice calling my name anymore. What do I do? Do I ask for help? How come when something finally goes right, something goes wrong? Mother and I just finished the Ellis Island inspection and become separated. With no clue where I stand, I have a mini panic attack. To make everything worse, it’s ice-cold out here.

The film ‘Thank you for Smoking’ is a dark comedy where the primary protagonist, Nick Naylor is a lobbyist. He talks for the cigarette industry and will not extra the American Authorities or even the press. At the in advance, the film prominently tackles all these topics but deep down it also portrays the partnership between a dad and a son.

The film ‘Thank you for Smoking’ is a dark comedy where the primary protagonist, Nick Naylor is a lobbyist. He talks for the cigarette industry and will not extra the American Authorities or even the press. At the in advance, the film prominently tackles all these topics but deep down it also portrays the partnership between a dad and a son.

I immediately rushed to my parents room; no matter what age I seem to reach, mother always knows best. I abruptly shook my mom awake, explaining the situation in-between sharp breathes of pain and anxiety. With her being a nurse, she immediately began to make calls; pacing back and fourth in the background, I awaited my fate.

I focused my attention back to my hand which held my cigarette. I shouldn't be smoking this. She didn't smoke and she was unfortunate enough to-- I halted my thoughts immediately. I felt my throat close up. I tried to swallow down my tears as I felt them surface. Remembering that the stranger was still here, I masked my face of any emotion and pulled my own shades down to cover my eyes. Better.

Typically, early morning phone calls on your birthday bring well wishes and kind words from friends and family, but that has not always been the case for my wife. Just before seven o’clock A.M. on her twenty-fourth birthday our telephone rang. It was not an old friend singing happy birthday, or our friends that we had plans with later that evening. The voice on the other end of the line was her father delivering news that would change Lisa’s life forever. Her mother was being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. She had collapsed in the kitchen while cooking their breakfast. Judy remained unresponsive for one week and the decision was made to remove life support. She passed within hours of this decision, but the impact those few days had

A few days after Christmas in 2013, my mom told me to go downstairs because she needed to talk to me, I was worried at first because I didn’t know what she was going to say. I sat on her bed, anxious to know what she was going to tell me.

It was my mom's older sister, Chas. All I could hear was the mumbling of my aunt on the other end of the phone. My mom did not say much, and the phone call did not last long. My mom's face showed fear and anxiety, and instantly I knew it wasn't good news. "Trent was in a terrible accident this morning with a couple of friends out in Plainville," my mom said in dismay. She walked out to her car to charge her slowly dying phone because almost every item we owned was packed away in boxes. The house was quiet; the sound of the heat pumping away was evident. I did not know what to think; my dad and I just hoped my cousin Trent was going to be okay. My mom was outside sitting in her car waiting for a call back from her sister. My brother stood outside with her. I sat in the packed living room full of unopened boxes. My dad was in his room trying to forget about the uneasiness of what might happen. My ten-month-old baby brother was sound asleep along with my two-year-old little sister. She laid in her crib peacefully with her blanket snuggled up to her face

Grandpa was the first to notice. No one else suspected anything different about me; nothing seemed to separate me from the other kids my age. But grandpa knew, ever since I looked up into his reassuring eyes with that innocent smile, that I was special. I acted the same as the other kids, always playing and climbing without a care in the world. Only when I got bigger and grew older did I begin to realize myself. Grandpa and I didn’t even have to say a word; we shared a unique connection. Those eyes, piercing blue but overcome by a sense of comfort, could communicate far beyond words. They took me to a place where I felt like I could stay a kid forever, and never have to worry about a thing. We were outcasts, Grandpa and I, but nobody knew.

Coming off the bus from my first full week of middle school, I vividly remember the abnormal absence of cars in the driveway. Using the spare key under the “welcome” mat, I opened the door only to find an empty house with the lights still on, TV running, and cold leftovers. As an eleven year-old coming home to an unusually vacant house, panic flooded my body. Immediately, I sprinted to the home phone and frantically dialed my mother. The dissonance rings that followed as I hit the call button seemed to last a lifetime; my breath drew still as those consistent buzzes stopped and my mother's comforting voice answered “hello”. The pounding in my chest ceased, yet worry still overpowered my conscience. She explained that she and my father had to abruptly leave to

Thinking I ought to start my day I walked into the quaint kitchen adjacent to our room and noted that by the sour expression Lucille wore that her mood had failed to improve. I ate breakfast in near silence, pausing over the morning paper too long and looking down to find my eggs had gone cold. The next few hours passed without incident but felt pleasantly serene in the way only a Sunday could. I was looking over some recent photographs when I heard the shrill ring of the telephone from the other room. Lucille answered it before I had the chance to stand up. “Hello! How have you been?” I heard her ask in that excited tone she uses when on the telephone. “Oh my, certainly. We will be

“Of course, but now I have to go I need to find a place to live, I will come tomorrow and everyday you wish, see you later” he said. Winnie hugged him and he

There is now a way to help smokers stay healthy and live in a better world, because of the addiction and the dangers of smoking; some people resorted to

On returning to Philadelphia, there was so much I wanted to tell Lori. I felt the need to talk to her about my father 's problems, and once again attempt to bring our families closer together. Before I had the chance to acquaint Lori with the situation in Wilkes-Barre, she went into a near-hysterical rage over the fact her mother was told she needed a hysterectomy.